Charles_Chronicles_of_the_Schoenberg-Cotta_Family.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
I.
FRIEDRICH wishes me to write a chronicle of my life.
Friedrich is my eldest brother. I am sixteen, and he
is seventeen, and I have always been in the habit
of doing what he wishes ; and therefore, although it seems to
me a very strange idea, I do so now. It is easy for Friedrich
to write a chronicle, or anything else, because he has thoughts.
But I have so few thoughts, I can only write what I see and
hear about people and things. And that is certainly very
little to write about, because everything goes on so much the
same always with us. The people around me are the same I
have known since I was a baby, and the things have changed
very little; except that the people are more, because there are
so many little children in our home now, and the things seem
to me to become less, because my father does not grow richer ;
and there are more to clothe and feed However, since Fritz
wishes it, I will try ; especially as ink and paper are the two
things which are plenttful among us, because my father is a
printer.
Fritz and I have never been separated all our lives until now.
Yesterday he went to the University at Erfurt. It was when I
was crying at the thought of parting with him that he told me
his plan about the chronicle. He is to write one, and I another.
He said it would be a help to him, as our twilight talk has been
^when always, ever since I can remember, we two have crept
away in summer into the garden, under the great pear-tree, and
in winter into the deep window of the lumber-room inside my
father's printing-room, where the bales of paper are kept, and
old books are piled up, among which we used to make ourselves
a seat.
It may be a help and comfort to Fritz, but I do not see how
it ever can be any to me. He had all the thoughts, and he
will have them still. But I what shall I have for his voice
and his dear face, but cold, blank paper, and no thoughts at
all ! Besides, I am so very busy, being the eldest ; and the
mother is far from strong, and the father so often wants me to
help him at his types, or to read to him while he sets them.
However, Fritz wishes it, and I shall do it I wonder what his
chronicle will be like !
But where am I to begin 1 What is a chronicle 1 Two of
the books in the Bible are called " Chronicles" in Latin ^at
least Fritz says that is what the other long word* means and
the first book begins with "Adam," I know, because I read it
one day to my father for his printing. But Fritz certainly
cannot mean me to begin as far back as that. Of course I
could not remember. I think I had better begin with the oldest
person I know, because she is the furthest on the way back to
Adam; and that is our grandmother Von Schonberg. She is
very old toore than sixty ^but her form is so erect, and her
dark eyes so piercing, that sometimes she looks almost younger
than her daughter, our precious mother, who is often bowed
down with ill-health and cares.
Our grandmother's father was of a noble Bohemian family, and
that is what links us with the nobles, although my father's
family belongs to the burgher class. Fritz and I like to look
at the old seal of our grandfather Von Schonberg, with all its
* Paralipomenon.
Elsi's Story, 1 1
quarterings, and to hear the tales of our knightly and soldier
ancestors of crusader and baron. My mother, indeed, tells us
this is a mean pride, and that my father's printing-press is a
symbol of a truer nobility than any crest of battle-axe or sword;
but our grandmother, I know, thinks it a great condescension
for a Schonberg to have married into a burgher family. Fritz
feels with my mother, and says the true crusade vnUX be waged
by our father's black types far better than by our great-grand-
father's lances. But the old warfare was so beautiful, with the
prancing horses and the streaming banners ! And I cannot help
thinking it would have been pleasanter to sit at the window of
some grand old castle like the Wartburg, which towers above
our town, and wave my hand to Fritz, as he rode, in flashing
armour, on his war-horse, down the steep hill side, instead of
climbing up on piles of dusty books at our lumber-room win-
dow, and watching him, in his humble buigher dress, with his
wallet (not too well filled), walk down the street, while no one
turned to looL Ah, well! the parting would have been as
dreary, and Fritz himself could not be nobler. Only I cannot
help seeing that people do honour the bindings and the gilded
titles, in spite of all my mother and Fritz can say; and I should
like my precious book to have such a binding, that the people
who could not read the inside, might yet stop to look at the
gold clasps and the jewelled back. To those who can read the
inside, perhaps it would not matter. For of all the old barons
and crusaders my grandmother tells us of, I know well none
ever were or looked nobler than our Fritz. His eyes are not
blue, like mine ^which are only German Cotta eyes, but dark
and flashing. Mine are very good for seeing, sewing, and helping
about the printing; but his, 1 think, would penetrate men's
hearts and conmiand them, or survey a battle-field at a glance.
Last week, however, when I said something of the kind to
him, he laughed, and said there were better battle-fields than
those on which men's bones lay bleaching; and then there came
that deep look into his eyes, when he seems to see into a world
beyond my reach.
But I began with our grandmother, and here I am thinking
about Friedrich again. I am afraid that he will be the beginning
12 Chronicles of tfie Sckbnberg-Cotta Family.
and end of my chronicle. Fritz has been nearly all the world
to me. I wonder if that is why he is to leave me. The monks
say we must not love any one too much; and one day, when we
went to see Aunt Agnes, my mother's only sister, who is a nun
in the convent of Nimptschen, I remember her saying to me
when I had been admiring the flowers in the convent garden,
" Little Elsfe, will you come and live with us, and be a happy,
blessed sister here 1 "
I said, " Whose sister, Aunt Agnes % I am Fritz's sister 1 May
Fritz come too?"
" Fritz could go into the monastery at Eisenach," she said.
" Then I would go with him," I said. " I am Fritz's sister,
and I would go nowhere in the world without him."
She looked on me with a cold, grave pity, and murmured,
^^ Poor little one, she is like her mother; the heart learns to idolize
early. She has much to unlearn. God's hand is against all idols. "
That is many years ago; but I remember as if it were yester-
day, how the fair convent garden seemed to me all at once to
grow dull and cheerless at her words and her grave looks, and I
felt it damp and cold like a church-yard; and the flowers looked
like made flowers ; and the walls seemed to rise like the walls of
a cave, and I scarcely breathed until I was outside again, and
had hold of Fritz's hand.
For I am not at all religious. I am afraid I do not even wish
to be. All the religious men and women I have ever seen do
not Seem to me half so sweet as my poor dear mother ; nor as
kind, clever, and cheerful as my father; nor half as noble and
good as Fritz. And the Lives of the Saints puzzle me exceedingly,
because it seems to me that if every one were to follow the ex-
ample of St Catherine, and even our own St Elizabeth of Hun-
gary, and disobey their parents, and leave their little children, it
would make everything so very wrong and confused. I wonder
if any one else ever felt the same, because these are thoughts I
have never even told to Fritz ; for he is religious, and I am
afraid it would pain him.
Our grandmother's husband fled from Bohemia on account
of religion; but I am afraid it was not the right kind of religion,
because no one seems to like to speak about it; and what Fritz
Elsi's Story. 13
and I know about him is only what we have picked up from time
to time, and put together for ourselves.
Nearly a hundred years ago, two priests preached in Bohemia,
called John Huss and Jerome of Prague. They seem to have
been dearly beloved, and to have been thought good men during
their life^time; but people must have been mist^Jcen about them,
for they were both burnt alive as heretics at Constance in two
following years ^in 141 5 and 1416 ; which of course proves that
they could not have been good men, but exceedingly bad.
However, their friends in Bohemia would not give up believing
what they had learned of these men, although they had seen what
end it led to. I do not think this was strange, because it is so
very difficult to make oneself believe what one ought, as it is,
and I do not see that the fear of being burned even would help
one to do it; although, certainly, it might keep one silent But
these friends of John Huss were many of them nobles and great
men, who were not accustomed to conceal their thoughts, and
they would not be silent about what Huss had taught them.
What this was, Fritz and \ never could find out, because my
grandmother, who answers all our other questions, never would
tell us a word about this. We are, therefore, afraid it must be
something very wicked indeed. And yet, when I asked one day
if our grandfather (who, we think, had followed Huss), was a
wicked man, her eyes flashed like lightning, and she said ve-
hemently,
" Better never lived or died ! "
This perplexes us, but perhaps we shall understand it, like so
many other things, when we are older.
Great troubles followed on the death of Huss. Bohemia was
dixided into three parties, who fought against each other. Castles
were sacked, and noble women and little children were driven
into caves and forests. Our forefathers were among the sufferers.
In 1458 the conflict reached its height; many were beheaded,
hung, burned alive, or tortured. My grandfather was killed as
he was escaping, and my grandmother encountered great dangers,
and lost all the little property which was left her, in reaching
Eisenach, a young widow with two little children, my mother
and Aunt Agnes.
14 Chronicles of tlie Scfionberg-Cotta Family,
Whatever it was that my great grandfather believed wrong, his
wife did not seem to share it She took refuge in the Augus-
tinian Convent where she lived until my Aunt Agnes took the
veil, and my motner was married, when she came to live with us.
She is as fond of Fritz as I am, in her way ; although she scolds
us all in turn, which is perhaps a good thing, because as she
says, no one else does. And she has taught me nearly all I
know, except the Apostles' Creed and Ten Commandments,
which our father taught us, and the Paternoster and Ave Mary
which we learned at our mother's knee. Fritz, of course, knows
infinitely more than I do. He can say the Cisio Janus (the
Church Calendar) through without one mistake, and also the
Latin Grammar, I believe ; and he has read Latin books of which
I cannot remember the names ; and he understands all that the
priests read and sing, and can sing himself as well as any of thenu
But the legends of the saints, and the multipUcation table, and
the names of herbs and flowers, and the account of the Holy
Sepulchre, and of the pilgrimage to Rome, all these our grand-
mother has taught us. She looks so beautiful, our dear old
gradmother, as she sits by the stove with her knitting, and talks
to Fritz and me, with her lovely white hair and her dark bright
eyes, so full of life and youth, they make us think of the fire on
the hearth when the snow is on the roof, all warm within, or,
as Fritz says,
'^ It seems as if her heart lived always in the summer, and
the winter of old age could only touch her body."
But I think the summer in which our grandmother's soul lives
must be rather a fiery kind of summer, in which there are light-
nings as well as sunshine. Fritz thinks we shall know her again
at the Resurrection Day by that look in her eyes, only perhaps
a httle softened. But that seems to me terrible, and very far
off; and I do not like to think of it We often debate which
of the saints she is like. I think St Anna, the mother of Mary,
mother of God, but Fritz thinks St Catherine of Egypt, because
she is so like a queen.
Besides all this, I had nearly forgotten to say I know the
names of several of the stars, which Fritz taught me. And I
can knit and spin, and do point stitch, and embroider a littie.
Elsi's Story, 1 5
I intend to teach it all to the children. There are a great many
children in our home, and more every year. If there had not
been so many, I might have had time to learn more, and also to
be more religious; but I cannot see what they would do at home
if I were to have a vocation. Perhaps some of the younger
ones may be spared to become saints. I wonder if this should
turn out to be so, and if I help them, if any one ever found
some little humble place in heaven for helping some one else
to be religious ! Because then there might perhaps be hope for
me after all.
Our father is the wisest man in Eisenach. The mother thinks,
perhaps, in the world. Of this, however, our grandmother has
doubts. She has seen other places besides Eisenach, which is
perhaps tlie reason. He certainly is the wisest man I ever
saw. He talks about more things that I cannot understand than
any one else I knbw. He is also a great inventor. He thought
of the plan of printing books before any one else, and had
almost completed the invention before any press was set up.
And he always believed there was another world on the other
side of the great sea, long before the Admiral Christopher Colum-
bus discovered America. The only misfortune has been that
some one else has always stepped in just before he had com-
pleted his inventions, when nothing but some little insignificant
detail was wanting to make everything perfect, and carried off
all the credit and profit It is this which has kept us from
becoming rich, ^this and the children. But the father's temper
is so placid and even, nothing ever sours it And this is what
makes us all admire and love him so much, even more than his
great abilities. He seems to rejoice in these successes of other
people just as much as if he had quite succeeded in making
them himself. If the mother laments a little over the fame that
might have been his, he smiles and says,
" Never mind, little mother. It will be all the same a hundred
years hence. Let us not grudge any one his reward. The
world has the benefit if we have not"
Then if the mother sighs a little over the scanty larder and
wardrobe, he replies,
1 6 Chronicles of the Sckonberg-Coita Family,
" Cheer up, little mother, there are more Americas yet to be
discovered, and more inventions to be made. In fact," he adds,
with that deep far seeing look of his, " something else has just
occurred to me, which, when I have brought it to perfection,
will throw all the discoveries of this and every other age into
the shade."
And he kisses the mother and departs into his printing-room.
And the mother looks wonderingly after him, and sa3rs,
" We must not dfaturb the father, children, with our little cares.
He has great things in his mind, which we shall all reap the
harvest of some day."
So, she goes to patch some little garment once more, and to try
to make one da/s dinner expand into enough for two.
What the father's great discovery is at present, Frit2 and I do
not quite know. But we think it has something to do, either
with the planets and the stars, or with that wonderful stone
the philosophers have been so long occupied about In either
case, it is sure to make us enormously rich all at once; and,
meantime, we may well be content to eke out our living as best
we can.
Of the mother I cannot think of anything to say. She is just
the mother our own dear, patient, loving, little mother unlike
every one else in the world; and yet it seems as if there was
nothing to say about her by which one could make any one
else understand what she is. It seems as if she were to other
people (with reverence I say it) just what the blessed Mother
of God is to the other saints. St. Catherine has her wheel and
her crown, and St. Agnes her lamb and her palm, and St. Ursula
her eleven thousand virgins; but Mary, the ever-blessed, has
only the Holy Child. She is the blessed woman, the Holy
Mother, and nothing else. That is just what the mother is.
She is the precious little mother, and. the best woman in the
world, and that is all. I could describe her better by saying
what she is not. She never says a harsh word to any one nor
of any one. She is never impatient with the father, like our
grandmother. She is never impatient with the children, like
me. She never complains or scolds. She is never idle. She
Elsi's Story, 17
never looks severe and cross at us, like Aunt Agnes. But I
must not compare her with Aunt Agnes, because she herself
once reproved me for doing so; she said Aunt Agnes was a
religious, a pure, and holy woman, far, far above her sphere
or ours; and we might be thankful, if we ever reached heaven
if she let us kiss the hem of her garment.
Yes, Aunt Agnes is a holy woman a nun; I must be careful
what I say of her. She makes long, long prayers, they say,
so long that she has been found in the morning fainting on the
cold flpor of the convent church. She eats so little that Father
Christopher, who is the convent confessor and ours, sa3rs he
sometimes thinks she must be sustained by angels. But Fritz
and I think that, if that is true, the angel's food cannot be very
nourishing; for, when we saw her last, through the convent
grating, she looked like a shadow in her black robe, or like
that dreadful pictiure of death we saw in the convent chapeL
She wears the coarsest sackcloth, and often, they say, sleeps on
ashes. One of the nuns told my mother, that one day when
she fainted, and they had to unloose her dress, they found scars
and stripes, scarcely healed, on her fair neck and arms, which
she must have inflicted on herself. They all say she will have
a very high place in heaven; but it seems to me, unless there
is a very great difference between the highest and lowest places
in heaven, it is a great deal of trouble to take. But, then, I
am not religious; and it is altogether so exceedingly difficult
to me to understand about heaven. Will every one in heaven
be always struggling for the high places 1 Because when every
one does that at church on the great festival days, it is not at all
pleasant; those who succeed look proud, and those who fail
look cross. But, of course, no one wiU be cross in heaven,
nor proud. Then how will the saints feel who do not get the
highest places] Will they be pleased or disappointed? If they
are pleased, what is the use of struggling so much to climb a
httle higher] And if they are not pleased, would that be saint-
like] Because the mother always teaches us to choose the
lowest places, and the eldest to give up to the little ones. Will
the greatest, then, not give up to the little ones in heaven! 01
2
1 8 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
one thing I feel sure : if the mother had a high place in heaven,
she would always be stooping down to help some one else up,
or making room for others. And then, what are the highest
places in heaven) At the emperor's court, I know, they are
the places nearest him; the seven Electors stand close around
the throne. But can it be possible that any would ever feel at
ease, and happy so very near the Almighty? It seems so ex-
ceedingly difficult to please Him here, and so very easy to
offend Him, that it does seem to me it would be happier to
be a little further off, in some little quiet comer near the gate,
with a good many of the saints between. The other day, Father
Christopher ordered me such a severe penance for dropping a
crumb of the sacred Host; although I could not help thinking
it was as much the priest's fault as mine. But he said God
would be exceedingly displeased; and Fritz told me the priests
fast and torment themselves severely sometimes, for only omit-
ting a word in the Mass.
Then the awful picture of the Lord Christ, with the lightnings
in his hand! It is very different from the carving of him on
the cross. Why did he suffer so? Was it, like Aunt Agnes,
to get a higher place in heaven? or, perhaps, to have the right to
be severe, as she is with us? Such very strange things seem to
offend and to please God, I cannot understand it at all; but that
is because I have no vocation for religion. In the convent, the
mother says, they grow like God, and so understand him better.
Is Aunt Agnes, then, more like God than our mother? That
face, still and pale as death; those cold, severe eyes; that voice,
so hollow and monotonous, as if it came from a metal tube or
a sepulchre, instead of from a heart! Is it with that look God
will meet us, with that kind (A voice he will speak to us ? Indeed,
the Judgment-day is very dreadful to think of; and one must
indeed need to live many years in the convent not to be afraid
of going to heaven.
Oh, if only our mother were the saint ^the kind of good
woman that pleased God ^instead of Aunt Agnes, how sweet
it would be to try and be a saint then; and how sure one would
feel that one might hope to reach heaven, and that, if one
reached it, one would be happy there!
Elsi*s Stoiy, 19
Aunt Ursula Cotta is another of the women I wish were the
right kind of saint She is my father's first cousin's wife; but
we have always called her aunt, because almost all little children
who know her do, ^she is so fond of chijdren, and so kind
to every one. She is not poor like us, although Cousin Conrad
Cotta never made any discoveries, or even nearly made any.
There is a picture of St. Elizabeth of Thuringia, our sainted
Landgravine, in our parish church, which always makes me
think of Aunt Ursula. St Elizabeth is standing at the gate
of a beautiful castle, something like our castle of the Wart-
burg, and around her are kneeling a crowd of veiy poor
people cripples, and blind, and poor thin mothers, with little
himgry-looking children all stretching out their hands to the
lady, who is looking on with such kindly, compassionate looks,
just like Aunt Ursula; except that St Elizabeth is very thin and
pale, and looks almost as nearly starved as the beggars around
her, and Aunt Ursula is rosy and fat, with the pleasantest
dimples in her round face. But the look in the eyes is the
same so loving, and true, and earnest, and compassionate.
The thinness and pallor are, of course, only just the difference
there must be between a saint who fasts, and does so much
penance, and keeps herself awake whole nights saying prayers,
as St Elizabeth did, and a prosperous burgher's ^e, who eats
and sleeps like other people, and is only like the good Land-
gravine in being so kind to every one.
The other half of the story of the picture, however, would not
do for Aunt Ursula. In the apron of the saint, instead of loaves
of bread are beautiful clusters of red roses. Our grandmother
told us the meaning of this. The good Landgravine's husband
did not quite like her giving so much to the poor; because
she was so generous she would have left the treasury bare. So
she used to give her alms unknown to him. But on this day
when she was giving away those loaves to the beggars at the
castle gate, he happened suddenly to return, and finding her
occupied in this way, he asked her rather severely what she had
in her apron. She said " roses !"
" Let me see," said the Landgrave.
And God loved her so much, that to save her from being
20 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
blamed, he wrought a miracle. When she opened her apron,
instead of the loaves she had been distributing, there were beauti-
ful flowers. And this is what the picture represents. I always
wanted to know the end of the story. I hope God worked
another miracle when the Landgrave went away, and changed
the roses back into loaves. I suppose He did, because the
starving people look so contented. But our grandmother does
not know. Only in this, I do not think Aunt Ursula would
have done the same as the Landgravine. I think she would
have said boldly if Cousin Cotta had asked her, * I have loaves
in my apron, and I am giving them to these poor starving
subjects of yours and mine," and never been afraid of what he
would say. And then, perhaps. Cousin Cotta I mean the
Landgrave's ^heart would have been so touched, that he would
have forgiven her, and even praised her, and brought her some
more loaves. And then instead of the bread being changed to
flowers, the Landgrave's heart would have been changed from
stone to flesh, which does seem a better thing. But when I
once said this to grandmother, she said it was very wrong to
fancy other ends to the legends of the saints, just as if they
were fairy tales; that St. Elizabeth really lived in that old
castle of the Wartburg, not more than three hundred years ago,
and walked through those very streets of Eisenach, and gave
alms to the poor here, and went into the hospitals, and dressed
the most loathsome wounds that no one else would touch, and
spoke tender loving words to wretched outcasts no one else
would look at. That seems to me so good and dear of her; but
that is not what made her a saint, because Aunt Ursula and
our mother do things like that, and our mother has told me
again and again that it is Aunt Agnes who is like the saint, and
not she.
It is what she suffered, I suppose, that has made them put
her in the Calendar; and yet it is not suffering in itself that
makes people saints, because I do not believe St. Elizabeth
herself suffered more than our mother. It is true she used to
leave her husband's side and kneel all night on th^ cold floor,
while he was asleep. But the mother has done the same as
that often and often. When any of the little ones has been ill.
Elsi's Story, 2i
how often she has walked up and down hour after hour, with
the sick child in her arms, soothing and fondling it, and quiet-
ing all its fretful cries with unwearying tender patience. Then
St. Elizabeth fasted until she was almost a shadow; but how
often have I seen our mother quietly distribute all that was nice
and good in our frugal meals to my father and the children,
scarcely leaving herself a bit, and hiding her plate behind a dish
that the father might not see. And Fritz and I often say
how wasted and worn she looks; not like the Mother of
Mercy as we remember her, but too much like the wan pale
Mother of Sorrows with the pierced heart. Then as to pain,
have not I seen our mother suffer pain compared with which
Aunt Agnes or St. Elizabeth's discipline must be like the prick of
a pin.
But yet all that is not the right kind of suffering to make a
saint Our precious mother walks up and down all night not to
make herself a saint, but to soothe her sick child. She eats
no dinner, not because she chooses to fast, but because we
are poor, and bread is dear. She suffers, because God lays
suffering upon her, not because she takes it on herself. And all
this cannot make her a saint. When I say anything to compas-
sionate or to honour her, she smiles and says,
" My Elsfe, I chose this lower life instead of the hign vocation
of your Aunt Agnes, and I must take the consequences. We
cannot have our portion both in this world and the next."
If the si2e of our mother's portion in the next worid were
to be in proportion to its smallness in this, I think she might
have plenty to spare ; but this I do not venture to say to her.
There is one thing St Elizabeth did which certainly our
mother would never do. She left her little fatherless children
to go into a convent Perhaps it was this that pleased God and
the Lord Jesus Christ so very much, that they took her up to
be so high in heaven. If this is the case, it is a great mercy
for our father and for us that our mother has not set her heart
on being a saint We sometimes think, however, that perhaps
although He cannot make her a saint on account of the rules
they have in heaven about it, God may give our mother some
little good thing, or some kind word, because of her being so
22 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
very good to us. She says this is no merit, however, because
of her loving us so mucL If she loved us less, and so found
it more a trouble to work for us ; or if we were little stranger
beggar children she chose to be kind to, instead of her own, I
suppose God would like it better.
There is one thing, moreover, in St Elizabeth's history which
once brought Fritz and me into great trouble and perplexity.
When we were little children, and did not understand things
as we do now, but thought we ought to try and imitate the
saints, and that what was right for them must be right for us,
and when our grandmother had been telling us about the holy
Landgravine privately selling her jewels, and erhptying her
husband's treasury to feed the poor, we resolved one day to
go and do likewise. We knew a very poor old woman in the
next street, with a great many orphan grandchildren, and we
planned a long time together before we thought of the way to
help her like St. Elizabeth. At length the opportunity came.
It was Christmas eve, and for a rarity there were some meat,
and apples, and pies in our store-room. We crept into the
room in the twilight, filled my apron with pies, and meat, and
cakes, and stole out to our old woman's to give her our booty.
The next morning the larder was found despoiled of half of
what was to have been our Christmas dinner. The children
cried, and the mother looked almost as distressed as tliey did.
The father's placid temper for once was roused, and he cursed
the cat and the rats, and wished he had completed his new
infallible rat trap. Our grandmother said very quietly,
" Thieves more discriminating than rats or mice have been
here. There are no crumbs, and not a thing is out of place.
Besides, I never heard of rats or mice eating pie-dishes.
Fritz and I looked at each other, and began to fear we had
done wrong, when little Christopher said
" I saw Fritz and Elsfe carry out the pies last night"
"Elsfe! Fritz!" said our fatiier, "what does this mean?"
I would have confessed, but I remembered St Elizabeth and
the roses, and said, with a trembling voice
" They were not pies you saw, Christopher, but roses."
" Roses," said the mother vciy gravely, "at Christmas !"
EUi's Story. 23
I almost hoped the pies would have reappeared on the
shelves. It was the veiy juncture at which they did in the
legend ; but they did not On the contrary, everything seemed
to turn against us.
"Fritz," said our father very sternly, *'tell the truth, or I
shall give you a flogging."
This was a part of the story where St Elizabeth's example
quite failed us. I did not know what she would have done if
some one else had been punished for her generosity; but I
felt no doubt what I must do.
" O father I" I said, "it is my fault ^it was my thought! We
took the things to the poor old woman in the next street for her
grandchildren."
"Then she is no better than a thief," said oiu: father, "to
have taken them. Fritz and Elsb, fooUsh children, shall have
no Christmas dinner for their pains; and lsb shall, moreover,
be locked into her own room, for telling a story."
I was sitting shivering in my room, wondering how it was
that things succeeded so differently with St Elizabeth and with
us, when Aunt Ursula's round pleasant voice sounded up the
stairs, and in another minute she was holding me laughing in
her arms.
"My poor little Elsfe! We must wait a little before we
imitate our patron saint; or we must begin at the other end.
It would never do, for instance, for me to travel to Rome with
eleven thousand young ladies like St Ursula."
My grandmother had guessed the meaning of our foray, and
Aunt Ursula coming in at the time, had heard the narrative,
and insisted on sending us another Christmas dinner. Fritz
and I secretly believed that St Elizabeth had a good deal to
do with the replacing of our Christmas dinner; but after that,
we understood that caution was needed in transferring the holy
example of the saints to our own lives, and that at present
we must not venture beyond the ten commandments.
Yet to think that St Elizabeth, a real canonized saint
whose picture is over altars in the churches ^whose good deeds
are painted on the chiuch windows, and illtmiined by the sun
sliining through them ^whose bones are laid up in reliquaries,
24 Chronicles of the Schdnherg-Cofta Family,
one of which I wear always next my heart actually lived and
prayed in that dark old castle above us, and walked along these
very streets ^perhaps even had been seen from this window of
Fritz's and my beloved lumber-room.
Only three hundred years ago I If only I had lived three
hundred years earlier, or she three hundred years later, I might
have seen her and talked to her, and asked her what it was
that made her a saint. There are so many questions I should
like to have asked her. I would have said, " Dear St Eliza-
beth, tell me what it is that makes you a saint % It cannot be
your charity, because no one can be more charitable than Aunt
Ursula, and she is not a saint; and it cannot be your suiferings,
or your patience, or your love, or your denying yourself for
the sake of others, because our mother is like you in all that,
and she is not a saint. Was it because you left your little chil-
dren, that God loves you so much? or because you not only did
and bore the things God laid on you, as our mother does, but
chose out other things for yourself, which you thought harder 1"
And if she were gentle (as I think she was), and would have
listened, I would have asked her, " Holy Landgravine, why are
things which were so right and holy in you, wrong for Fritz and
mel" And I would also have asked her, " Dear St. Elizabeth, my
patroness, what is it in heaven that makes you so happy there 1"
But I forgot she would not have been in heaven at all.
She would not even have been made a saint, because it was
only after her death, when the sick and crippled were healed
by touching her body, that they found out what a saint she
had been. Perhaps, even, she would not herself have known
she was a saint And if so, I wonder if it can be possible that
our mother is a saint after all, only she does not know it 1
Fritz and I are four or five years older than any of the
children. Two little sisters died of the plague before any more
were bom. One was baptized, and died when she was a year
old, before she could soil her baptismal robes. Therefore we
feel sure she is in paradise. I think of her whenever I look at
the cloud of glory aroimd the Blessed Virgin in St George's
Church. Out of the cloud peep a number of happy child-
Elsi's Story, 25
faces some leaning their round soft cheeks on their pretty
dimpled hands, and all looking up with such confidence at the
dear mother of God. I suppose the little children in heaven
especially belong to her. It must be verr happy, then, to have
died young.
But of that other little nameless babe who died at the same
time none of us ever dare to speak. It was not baptized, and
they say the souls of little unbaptized babes hover about for
ever in the darkness between heaven and hell. Think of the
horror of falling from the loving arms of our mother into the
cold and the darkness, to shiver and wail there for ever, and
belong to no one. At Eisenach we have a Foundling Hospital,
attached to one of the nunneries founded by St Elizabeth,
for such forsaken little ones. If St Elizabeth could only
establish a Foundling somewhere near the gates, of paradise
for such little nameless outcast child-souls ! But I suppose she
is too high in heaven, and too far from the gates to hear the
plaintive cries of such abandoned little ones. Or perhaps
God, who was so much pleased with her for deserting her own
little children, would not allow it I suppose the saints in
heaven who have been mothers, or even elder sisters like me,
leave their mother's hearts on earth, and that in paradise they
are all monks and nuns like Aunt Agnes and Father Christopher.
Next to that little nameless one came the twin girls Chriem-
hild (named after our grandmother), and Atlantis, so christened
by our father on account of the discovery of the great world
beyond the sea which he had so often thought of, and which
the great admiral Christopher Columbus accomplished about
that time. Then the twin boys Boniface Pollux and Christopher
Castor j their names being a compromise between our father,
who was struck with some remarkable conjunction of their stars
at their birth, and my mother, who thought it only right to
counterbalance such Pagan appellations with names written in
heaven. Then another boy, who only lived a few weeks ; and
then the present baby, Thekla, who is the plaything and darling
of us all.
These are nearly all the people I know well; except, indeed.
26 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
Martin Luther, the miner's son, to whom Aunt Ursula Cotta
has been so kind He is dear to us all as one of our own
family* He is about the same age as Fritz, who thinks there is
no one like him. And he has such a voice, and is so religious,
and yet so merry withal ; at least at times. It was his voice
and his devout ways which first drew Aunt Ursula's attention
to him. She had seen him often at the daily prayers at church.
He used to sing as a chorister with the boys of the Latin school
of the parish of St George, where Fritz and he studied. The
ringing tones of his voice, so clear and true, often attracted
Aunt Ursula's attention; and he always seemed so devout
But we knew little about him. He was very poor, and had a
pinched, half-starved look when first we noticed him. Often I
have seen him on the cold winter evenings singing about the streets
for alms, and thankfully receiving a few pieces of broken bread
and meat at the doors of the citizens; for he was never a bold
and impudent beggar as some of the scholars are. Our
acquaintance with him, however, began one day which I re-
member well. I was at Aunt Ursula's house, which is in
George Street, near the church and school I had watched the
choir of boys singing from door to door through the street No
one had given them anything: they looked disappointed and
hungry. At last they stopped before the window where Aunt
Ursula and I were sitting with her little boy. That clear, high,
ringing voice was there again. Aunt Ursula went to the door
and called Martin in, and then she went herself to the kitchen,
and after giving him a good meal himself, sent him away with
his wallet full, and told him to come again very soon. After
that, I suppose she consulted with Cousin Conrad Cotta, and
the result was that Martin Luther became an inmate of their
house, and has lived among us familiarly since then like one of
our own cousins.
He is wonderfully changed since that day. Scarcely any
one would have thought then what a joyous nature his is. The
only thing in which it seemed then to flow out was in his clear
true voice. He was subdued and timid like a creature that
had been brought up without love. Especially he used to be
shy with young maidens, and seemed afraid to look in a
Else's Story. 27
woman's face. I think they must have been very severe with
him at home. Indeed, he confessed to Fritz that he had often
as a child been beaten till the blood came for trifling offences,
such as taking a nut, and that he was afraid to play in his
parents' presence. And yet he would not hear a word reflecting
on his parents. He says his mother is the most pious woman
in Mansfeld, where his family live, and his father denies him-
self in every way to maintain and educate his children, especially
Martin, who is to be the learned man of the family. His
parents are inured to hardships themselves, and believe it to be
the best early discipHne for boys. Certainly poor Martin had
enough of hardship here. But that may be the fault of his
mother's relations at Eisenach, who, they hoped, would have
been kind to him, but who do not seem to have cared for him
at alL At one time he told Fritz he was so pinched and dis-
couraged by the extreme poverty he suffered, that he thought
of giving up study in despair, and returning to Mansfeld to
work with his father at the smelting furnaces, or in the mines
under the mountains. Yet indignant tears start to his eyes if
any one ventures to hint that his father might have done more
for him. He was a poor digger in the mines, he told Fritz, and
often he liad seen his mother carrying fire-wood on her shoul-
ders from the pine-woods near Mansfeld.
But it was in the monastic schools, no doubt, that he learned
to be so shy and grave. He had been taught to look on mar.ied
life as a low and evil thing; and, of coiurse, we all know it cannot
be so high and pure as the life in the convent I remember
now his look of wonder when Aunt Ursula, who is not fond
of monks, said to him one day, "There is nothing on earth
more lovely than the love of husband and wife, when it is in
the fear of God"
In the warmth of her bright and sunny heart, his whole nature
seemed to open like the flowers in summer. And now there is
none in all our circle so popular and sociable as he is. He
plays on the lute, and sings as we think no one else can. And
our children all love him, he tells them such strange, beautiful
stories about enchanted gardens and crusaders, and about his
own childhood, among the pine-forests and the mines.
28 Chronicles of the Schonbcrg-Cotta Family,
It is from Martin Luther, indeed, that I have heard more
than from any one else, except from our grandmother, of the
great world beyond Eisenach. He has lived already in three
other towns, so that he is quite a traveller, and knows a great
deal of the world, although he is not yet twenty. Our father
has certainly told us wonderful things about the great islands
beyond the seas which the Admiral Columbus discovered, and
which will one day, he is sure, be found to be only the other
side of the Indies and Tokay and Araby. Already the Spaniards
have found gold in those islands, and our father has little doubt
that they are the Ophir from which King Solomon's ships
brought the gold for the temple. Also, he has told us about
the strange lands in the south, in Africa, where the dwarfs
live, and the black giants, and the great hairy men who climb
the trees and make nests there, and the dreadful men-eaters,
and the people who have their heads between their shoulders.
But we have not yet met with any one who have seen all those
wonders, so that Martin Luther and our grandmother are the
greatest travellers Fritz and I are acquainted with.
Martin was born at Eisleben. His mother's is a burgher
family. Three of her brothers live here at Eisenach, and here
she was married. But his father came of a peasant race. His
grandfather had a little farm of his own at Mora, among the
Thuringian pine-forests; "but Martin's father was the second
son; their little property went to the eldest, and he became a
miner, went to Eisleben, and then settled at Mansfeld, near
the Hartz mountains, where the silver and copper lie buried in
the earth.
At Mansfeld Martin lived until he was nineteen. T should
like to see the place. It must be so strange to watch the great
furnaces, where they fuse the copper and smelt the precious
silver, gleaming through the pine-woods, for they bum all through
the night in the clearings of the forest When Martin was a
little boy he may have watched by them with his father, who
now has furnaces and a foundry of his own. Then there are
the deep pits under the hills, out of which come from time to
time troops of grim-looking miners. Martin is fond of the
miners ; they are such a brave and hardy race, and they have
Elsi's Story, ?g
fine bold songs and choruses of their own which he can sing,
and wild original pastimes. Chess is a favourite game with
them. They are thoughtful too, as men may well be who dive
into the secrets of the earth. Martin, when a boy, has often
gone into the dark, mysterious pits and winding caverns with
them, and seen the veins of precious ore. He has also often
seen foreigners of various nations. They come from all parts
of the world to Mansfeld for the silver,-^from Bavaria and
Switzerland, and even from the beautiful Venice, which is a city
of palaces, where the streets are canals filled by the blue sea,
and instead of waggons they use boats, from which people
land on the marble steps of the palages. All these things
Martin has heard described by those who have really seen
them, besides what he has seen himself. His father also fre-
quently used to have the schoolmasters and learned men at
his house, that his sons might profit by their wise conversation.
But I doubt if he can have enjoyed this so much. It must
have been difficult to forget the rod with which once he was
beaten fourteen times in one morning, so as to feel sufficiently
at ease to enjoy their conversation. Old Count Gunther of
Mansfeld thinks much of Martin's father, and often used to
send for him to consult him about the mines.
Their house at Mansfeld stood at some distance from the
school-house which was on the hill, so that, when he was little,
an older boy used to be kind to him, and carry him in his
arms to school. I daresay that was in winter, when his little
feet were swollen with chilblains, and his poor mother used to
go up to the woods to gather faggots for the hearth.
His mother must be a very good and holy woman, but not,
I fancy, quite like our mother ; rather more like Aunt Agnes.
I think I should have been rather afraid of her. Martin says
she is very religious. He honours and loves her very much,
although she was very strict with him, and once, he told Fritz,
beat him, for taking a nut from their stores, until the blood
came. She must be a brave, truthful woman, who would not
spare herself or others ; but I think I should have felt more at
home with his father, who used so often to kneel beside Martin's
bed at night, and pray God to make him a good and useful
30 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
man. Martin's father, however, does not seem so fond of the
monks and nuns, and is therefore, I suppose, not so religious
as his mother is. He does not at all wish Martin to become a
priest or a monk, but to be a great lawyer, or doctor, or pro-
fessor at some university.
Mansfeld, however, is a very holy place. There are many
monasteries and mmneries there, and in one of them two of the
countesses were nuns. There is also a castle there, and our St
Elizabeth worked miracles there as well as here. The devil
also is not idle at Mansfeld. A wicked old witch lived close to
Martin's house, and used to frighten and distress his mother
much, bewitching the children so that they nearly cried them-
selves to death. Once even, it is said, the devil himself got up
into the pulpit, and preached, of course in disguise. But in all
the legends it is the same. The devil never seems so busy as
where the saints are, which is another reason why I feel how
difficult it would be to be religious.
Martin had a sweet voice, and loved music as a child, and
he used often to sing at people's doors as he did here. Once,
at Christmas time, he was singing carols from village to village
among the woods with other boys, when a peasant came to the
door of his hut, where they were singing, and said in a loud
gruflf voice, "Where are you, boysl" The children were so
frightened that they scampered away as fast as they could, and
only found out afterwards that the man with a rough voice had
a kind heart, and had brought them out some sausages. Poor
Martin was used to blows in those days, and had good reason
to dread them. It must have been pleasant, however, to hear
the boys' voices carolling through the woods about Jesus bom
at Bethlehem. Voices echo so strangely among the silent pine-
forests.
When Martin was thirteen he left Mansfeld and went to
Magdeburg, where the Archbishop Ernest lives, the brother of
our Elector, who has a beautiful palace, and twelve trumpeters
to play to him always when he is at dinner. Magdeburg must
be a magnificent city, very nearly, we think, as grand as Rome
itself. There is a great cathedral there, and knights and princes
and many soldiers, who prance about the streets ; and touma-
Else's Story 31
ments and splendid festivals. But our Martin heard more than
he saw of all this. He and John Reineck of Mansfeld (a boy
older than himself^ who is one of his greatest friends), went to
the school of the Franciscan Cloister, and had to spend their
time with the monks, or sing about the streets for bread, or
in the church-yard when the Franciscans in their grey robes
went there to fulfil their office of burying the dead. But it was
not for him, the minef s son, to complain, when, as he says, he
used to see a Prince of Anhalt going about the streets in a
cowl begging bread, with a sack on his shoulders hke a beast
of burden, insomuch that he was bowed to the ground. The
poor prince, Martin said, had fasted and watched and mortified
his flesh until he looked like an image of death, with only skin
and bones. Indeed, shortly after he died.
At Magdeburg also, Martin saw the picture of which he has
often told us. " A great ship was painted, meant to signify the
Church, wherein there was no layman, not even a king or
prince. There were none but the pope with his cardinals and
bishops in the prow, with the Holy Ghost hovering over them,
the priests and monks with their oars at the side; and thus
they were sailing on heavenward. The laymen were swimming
along in the water around the ship. Some of them were drown-
ing ; some were drawing themselves up to the ship by means
of ropes, which the monks, moved with pity, and making over
their own good works, did cast out to them to keep them from
drowning, and to enable them to cleave to the vessel and to go
with the others to heaven. There was no pope, nor cardinal,
nor bishop, nor priest, nor monk in the water, but laymen
only."
It must have been a very dreadful picture, and enough to
make any one afraid of not being religious, or else to make one
feel how useless it is for any one, except the monks and nuns,
to try to be religious at all. Because however little merit any
one had acquired, some kind monk might still be found to
throw a rope out of the ship and help him in ; and, however
many good works any layman might do, they would be of no
avail to help him out of the flood, or even to keep him from
drowning, unless he had some friend in a cloister.
32 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
I said Martin was merry ; and so he is, with the children,
or when he is cheered with music or singing. And yet, on the
whole, I think he is rather grave, and often he looks very
thoughtful, and even melancholy. His merriment does not
seem to be so much from carelessness as from earnestness of
heart, so that whether he is telling a story to the little ones, or
singing a lively song, his whole heart is in it, ^in his play as
well as in his work.
In his studies Fritz says there is no one at Eisenach who
can come near him, whether in reciting, or writing prose or
verse, or translating, or church music.
Master Trebonius, the head of St. George's school, is a very
learned man and very polite. He takes off his hat, Fritz says,
and bows to his scholars when he enters the school, for he
says that "among these boys are future burgomasters, chan-
cellors, doctors, and magistrates." This must be very different
from the masters at Mansfeld. Master Trebonius thinks very
much of Martin. I wonder if he and Fritz will be burgomasters
or doctors one day.
Martin is certainly very religious for a boy, and so is Fritz.
They attend mass very regularly, and confession, and keep
the fasts.
From what I have heard Martin say, however, I think he is
as much afraid of God and Christ arid the dreadful day of
wrath and judgment as I am. Indeed I am sure he feels, as
every one must, there would be no hope for us were it not
for the Blessed Mother of God who may remind her Son how
she nursed and cared for him, and move him to have some
pity.
But Martin has been at the University of Erfurt nearly two
years, and Fritz has now left us to study there with him ; and
we shall have no more music, and the children no more stories
until no one knows when.
These are the people I know. I have nothing else to say
except about the things I possess, and the place we live in.
The things are easily described. I have a silver reliquary,
with a lock of the hair of St. Elizabeth in it. That is my
Elsies Story, 33
greatest treasure. I have a black rosary with a large iron
cross which Aunt Agnes gave me. I have a missal, and part
of a volume of the Nibelungen Lied ; and besides my every-day
dress, a black taifetas jacket and a crimson stufif petticoat, and
two gold ear rings, and a silver chain for holidays, which Aunt
Ursula gave me. Fritz and I between us have also a copy of
some old Latin hymns, with woodcuts, printed at Niimberg.
And in the garden I have two rose bushes; and I have a
wooden crucifix carved in Rome out of wood which came from
Bethlehem, and in a leather purse one gulden my godmother
gave me at my christening ; and that is all.
The place we live in is Eisenach, and I think it a beautiful
place. But never having seen any other town, perhaps I cannot
very well judge. There are nine monasteries and nunneries
here, many of them founded by St. Elizabeth. And there are
I do not know how many priests. In the churches are some
beautiful pictures of the sufferings and glory of the saints ; and
painted windows, and on the altars gorgeous gold and silver
plate, and a great many wonderful relics which we go to adore
on the great saints* days.
The town is in a valley, and high above the houses rises the
hill on which stands the Wartburg, the castle where St. Eliza-
beth lived. I went inside it once with our father to take some
books to the Elector. The rooms were beautifully furnished
with carpets and velvet'Covered chairs. A lady dressed in silk
and jewels, like St. Elizabeth in the pictures, gave me sweet-
meats. But the castle seemed to me dark and gloomy. I
wondered which was the room in which the proud mother of
the Landgrave lived, who was so dis.courteous to St. Elizabeth
when she came a young maiden from her royal home far away
in Hungary ; and which was the cold wall against which she
pressed her burning brow, when she rushed through the castle
in despair on hearing suddenly of the death of her husband.
I was glad to escape into the free forest again, for all around
the castle, and over all the hills, as far as we can see around
Eisenach, it is forest. The tall dark pine woods clothe the
hills; but in the valleys the meadows are very green beside
the streams. It is better in the valleys among the wild flowers
3
34 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
than in that stem old castle, and I did not wonder so much
after being there that St. Elizabeth built herself a hut in a lowly
valley among the woods, and preferred to live and die there.
It is beautiful in summer in the meadows, at the edge of the
pine woods, when the sun brings out the delicious aromatic
perfume of the pines, and the birds sing, and the rooks caw. I
like it better than the incense in St George's Church, and
almost better than the singing of the choir, and certainly better
than the sermons which are so often about the dreadful fires
and the judgment-day, or the confessional where they give us
such hard penances. The lambs, and the birds, and even the
insects, seem so happy, each with its own little bleat, or warble,
or coo, or buzz of content.
It almost seems then as if Mary, the dear Mother of God,
were governing the world instead of Christ, the Judge, or the
Almighty with the thunders. Every creature seems so blithe
and so tenderly cared for, I cannot help feeling better there
than at church. But that is because I have so little religion.
11.
(S'Xixndu from Jfrijebmj^'s Cj^ronixle.
Erfurt, 1503.
IT last I Stand on the threshold of the world I have so
long desired to enter. Elsh^s world is mine no longer;
and yet, never until this week did I feel how dear that
little home-world is to me. Indeed, Heaven forbid I should
have left it finally. I look forward to returning to it again, never
more, however, as a burden on our parents, but as their stay and
support, to set our mother free from the cares which are slowly
eating her precious life away, to set our father free to pursue his
great projects, and to make our Httle Elsb as much a lady as
any of the noble baronesses our grandmother tells us of.
Although, indeed, as it is, when she walks beside me to church
on holidays, in her crimson dress, with her round, neat, little
figure in the black jacket with the white stomacher, and the
silver chains, her fair hair so neatly braided, and her blue eyes
so full of sunshine, ^who can look better than Els^ 1 And I
can see I am not the only one in Eisenach who thinks so. I
would only wish to make all the days holidays for her, and
that it should not be necessary when the festival is over for my
little sister to lay aside all her finery so carefully in the great
chest, and put on her Aschpiittel garments again, so that if the
fairy prince we used to talk of were to come, he would scarcely
recognise the fair little princess he had seen at church. And
yet no fairy prince need be ashamed of our Elsb, even in her
working, everyday clothes; ^he certainly would not be the
right one if he were. In the twilight, when the day's work
is done, and the children are asleep, and she comes and sits
beside me with her knitting in the lumber-room or under the
36 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
pear tree in the garden, what princess could look fresher or
neater than Elsb, with her smooth fair hair braided like a
coronet? Who would think that she had been toiling all day,
cooking, washing, nursing the cliildren. Except, indeed, because
of the healthy colour her active life gives her face, and for that
sweet low voice of hers, which I think women learn best by
the cradles of little children.
I suppose it is because I have never yet seen any maiden to
be compared to our Elsb that I have not yet fallen in love.
And, nevertheless, it is not of such a face as Else's I dream,
when dreams come, or even exactly such as my mother^s. My
mother's eyes are dimmed with many cares ; is it not that very
worn and faded brow that makes her sacred to mel More
sacred than any saintly halo ! And Els^, good, practical little
Els^, she is a dear household fairy ; but the face I dream of
has another look in it. Else's eyes are good, as she says, for
seeing and helping ; and sweet, indeed, they are for loving
dear, kind, true eyes. But the eyes I dream of have another
look, a fire like our grandmother's, as if from a southern sun ;
dim, dreamy, far-seeing glances, burning into hearts, like the
ladies in the romances, and yet piercing into heaven, like St
Cecilia's when she stands entranced by her organ. She should
be a saint, at whose feet I might sit and look through her pure
heart into heaven, and yet she should love me wholly, passion-
ately, fearlessly, devotedly, as if her heaven were all in my love.
My love ! and who am I that I should have such dreams 1 A
poor burgher lad of Eisenach, a penniless student of a week's
standing at Erfurt ! The eldest son of a large destitute family,
who must not dare to think of loving the most perfect maiden,
in the world, when I meet her, until I have rescued a father,
mother, and six brothers and sisters from the jaws of biting
poverty. And even in a dream it seems almost a treachery to
put any creature above Elsb. I fancy I see her kind blue
eyes filling with reproachful tears. For there is no doubt
that in Elsfe's heart I have no rival, even in a dream. Poor,
loving, little Elsfe !
Yes, she must be rescued from the pressure of those daily
fretting cares of penury and hope deferred, which have made
Friedrich*s Story, jy
our mother old so early. If I had been in the father's place, I
could never have borne to see winter creeping so soon over
the summer of her life. But he does not see it Or if for a
moment her pale face and the grey hairs which begin to come
seem to trouble him, he kisses her forehead, and says,
"Little mother, it will soon be over; there is nothing want^
ing now but the last link to make this last invention perfect, and
then"
And then he goes into his printing-room; but to this day
the missing link has never been found. Elsb and our mother,
however, always believe it will turn up some day. Our grand-
mother has doubts. And I have scarcely any hope at all,
although, for all the world, I would not breathe this to any one
at home. To me that laboratory of my father's, with its furnace,
its models, its strange machines, is the most melancholy place
in the world. It is like a haunted chamber, haunted with the
helpless, nameless ghosts of infants that have died at their
birth, the ghosts of vain and fruitless projects ; like the ruins
of a city that some earthquake had destroyed before it was
finished, ruined palaces that were never roofed, ruined houses
that were never inhabited, ruined churches mat were never
worshipped in. The saints forbid that my life should be like
that ! and yet what it is which has made him so unsuccessful, I
can never exactly make out He is no dreamer. He is no
idler. He does not sit lazily down with folded arms and
imagine his projects. He makes his calculations with the most
laborious accuracy ; he consults all the learned men and books
he has access to. He weighs, and measures, and constructs
the neatest models possible. His room is a museum of exquisite
models, which seem as if they must answer, and yet never do.
The professors, and even the Elector's secretary, who has come
more than once to consult him, have told me he is a man of
remarkable genius.
What can it be, then, that makes his life such a failure ? I
cannot think ; unless it is that other great inventory and dis-
coverers seem to have made their discoveries and inventions as
it were by the way, in the course of their everyday life. As a
seaman sails on his appointed voyage to some definite port, he
38 Chronicles of the Schanberg-Cotta Family.
notices drift-wood or weeds which must have come from un-
known lands beyond the seas. As he sails in his calling from
port to port, the thought is always in his mind; everything he
hears groups itself naturally around this thought ; he observes
the winds and currents ; he collects information from mariners
who have been driven out of their course, in the direction where
he believes this unknown land to lie. And at length he per-
suades some prince that his belief is no mere dream, and like
the great admiral Christopher Columbus, he ventures across
the trackless unknown Atlantic and discovers the Western
Indies. But before he was a discoverer, he was a mariner.
Or some engraver of woodcuts thinks of applying his carved
blocks to letters, and the printing-press is invented. But it is
in his calling. He has not gone out of his way to hunt for
inventions. He has found them in his path, the path of his
daily calling. It seems to me people do not become great, do
not become discoverers and inventors by trying to be so, but
by determining to do in the very best way what they have to
do. Thus improvements suggest themselves, one by one, step
by step ; each improvement is tested as it is made by practical
use, until at length the happy thought comes, not like an elf
from the wild forests, but like an angel on the daily path ; and
the little improvements become the great invention. There is
another great advantage, moreover, in this method over our
father's. If the invention never comes, at all events we have
the improvements, which are worth something. Every one
cannot invent the printing-press or discover the New Indies ;
but every engraver may make his engravings a little better,
and every mariner may explore a little further than his pre-
decessors.
Yet it seems almost like treason to write thus of our father.
What would Elsb or our mother think, who believe there is
nothing but accident or the blindness of mankind between us
and greatness 9 Not that they have learned to think thus from
our father. Never in my life did I hear him say a grudging or
depreciating word of any of those who have most succeeded
where he has failed. He seems to look on all such men as
part of a great brotherhood, and to rejoice in another man
Friedrich's Story. 39
hitting the point which he missed, just as he would rejoice in
himself succeeding in something to-day which he failed in
yesterday. It is this nobleness of character which makes me
reverence him more than any mere successes could. It is
because I fear, that in a life of such disappointment my char-
acter would not prove so generous, but that failure would sour
my temper and penury degrade my spirit as they never have
his, that I have ventured to search for the rocks on which he
made shipwreck, in order to avoid them. All men cannot
return wrecked, and tattered, and destitute from an unsuccessful
voyage, with a heart as hopeful, a temper as generous, a spirit
as free from envy and detraction, as if they brought the golden
fleece with them. Our father does this again and again; and
therefore I trust his argosies are laid up for him as for those
who follow the rules of evangelical perfection, where neither
moth nor rust can corrupt I could not. I would never return
until I could bring what I had sought, or I should return a
miserable man, shipwrecked in heart as well as in fortune. And
therefore I must examine my charts, and choose my port and
my vessel carefully, before I sail.
All these thoughts came into my mind as I stood on (he last
height of the forest, from which I could look bapk on Eisenach,
nestling in the valley under the shadow of the Wartburg. May
the dear mother of God, St. Elizabeth, and all the saints, defend
it evermore !
But there was not much time to linger for a last view of
Eisenach. The winter days were short ; some snow had fallen
in the previous night The roofs of the houses in Eisenach
were white with it, and the carvings of spire and tower seemed
inlaid with alabaster. A thin covering lay on the meadows and
hill-sides, and light feather-work frosted the pines. I had nearly
thirty miles to walk through forest and plain before I reached
Erfurt. The day was as bright and the air as light as my heart.
The shadows of the pines lay across the frozen snow, over
which my feet crunched cheerily. In the clearings, the outline
of the black twigs were pencilled dark and clear against the
light blue of the winter sky. Every outline was clear, and
crisp, and definite, as I resolved my own aims in life should be.
40 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
I knew my purposes were pure and high, and I felt as if Heaven
must prosper me.
But as the day wore on, I began to wonder when the forest
would end, until, as the sun sank lower and lower, I feared I
must have missed my way ; and at last, as I climbed a height
to make a survey, to my dismay it was too evident I had taken
the wrong turning in the snow. Wide reaches of the forest lay
all around me, one pine-covered hill folding over another ; and
only in one distant opening could I get a glimpse of the level
land beyond, where I knew Erfurt must lie. The daylight was
fast departing; my wallet was empty. I knew there were
villages hidden m the valleys here and there ; but not a wreath
of smoke could I see, nor any sign of man, except here and
there faggots piled in some recent clearing. Towards one of
these clearings I directed my steps, intending to follow the
wood-cutters* track, which I thought would probably lead me
to the hut of some charcoal burner, where I might find fire and
shelter. Before I reached this spot, however, night had set in.
The snow began to fall again, and it seemed too great a risk to
leave the broader path to follow any unknown track. I re-
solved, therefore, to make the best of my circumstances. They
were not unendurable. I had a flint and tinder, and gathering
some dry wood and twigs, I contrived with some difficulty to
light a fire. Cold and hungry I certainly was, but for this I
cared little. It was only an extra fast, and it seemed to me
quite natural that my journey of life should commence with
difficulty and danger. It was always so in legend of the saints,
romance, or elfin tale, or when an5rthing great was to be done.
But in the night, as the wind howled through the countless
stems of the pines, not with the soft varieties of sound it makes
amidst the summer oak-woods, but with a long monotonous
wail like a dirge, a tumult awoke in my heart such as I had
never known before. I knew these forests were infested by
robber-bands, and I could hear in the distance the baying and
howling of the wolves ; but it was not fear which tossed my
thoughts so wildly to and fro, at least not fear of bodily harm.
I thought of all the stories of wild huntsmen, of wretched guilty
men, hunted by packs of fiends ; and the stories which had
Friedrich's Story, 41
excited a wild delight in Elsb and me, as our grandmother told
them by the fire at home, now seemed to freeze my soul with
horror. For was not I a guilty creature, and were not the
devils indeed too really around mel and what was to prevent
their possessing mel Who in all the universe was on my side?
Could I look up with confidence to God? He loves only the
holy. Or to Christ? He is the judge; and more terrible than
any cries of legions of devils will it be to the sinner to hear his
voice firom the aw^ful snow-white throne of judgment Then,
my sins rose before me my neglected prayers, penances im-
perfectly performed, incomplete confessions. Even that morning,
had I not been full of proud and ambitious thoughts even
perhaps, vainly comparing myself with my good father, and
picturing myself as conquering and enjoying all kinds of worldly
delights) It was true, it could hardly be a sin to wish to save
my family from penury and care; but it was certainly a sin to
be ambitious of worldly distinction, as Father Christopher had
so often told me. Then, how difficult to separate the two?
Where did duty end, and ambition and pride begin ? I deter-
mined to find a confessor as soon as I reached Erfurt, if ever I
reached it. And yet, what could even the wisest confessor do
for me in such difficulties? How could I ever be sure that I
had not deceived myself in examining my motives, and then
deceived him, and thus obtained an absolution on false pre-
tences, which could avail me nothing ? And if this might be so
with future confessions, why not with all past ones ?
The thought was horror to me, and seemed to open a fathom-
less abyss of misery yawning under my feet I could no more
discover a track out of my miserable perplexities tlian out of
the forest
For if these apprehensions had any ground, not only the sins
I had failed to confess were unpardoned, but the sins I had
confessed and obtained absolution for on false grounds. Thus
it might be that at that moment my soul stood utterly un-
sheltered, as my body from the snows, exposed to the wrath
of God, the judgment of Christ, and the exulting cruelty of
devils.
. It seemed as if only one thing could save me, and that could
42 Chronicles of tfie Schonberg-Cotta F/xmily,
never be had. If I could find an infallible confessor who could
see down into the depth of my heart, and back into every
recess of my life, who could unveil me to myself, penetrate all
my motives, and assign me the penances I really deserved, I
would travel to the end of the world to find him. The severest
penances he could assign, after searching the lives of all the
holy Eremites and Martyrs, for examples of mortification, it
seemed to me would be light indeed, if I could only be sure
they were the right penances and would be followed by a true
absolution.
But this it was, indeed, impossible I could ever find.
What sure hope then could I ever have of pardon or remis-
sion of sins? What voice of priest or monk, the holiest on
earth, could ever assure me I had been honest with myself?
What absolution could ever give me a right to believe that the
baptismal robes, soiled as they told me " before I had left off
my infant socks," could once more be made white and clean?
Then for the first time in my life the thought flashed on me,
of the monastic vows, the cloister and the cowl. I knew there
was a virtue in the monastic profession which many said was
equal to a second baptism. Could it be possible that the end
of all my aspirations might after all be the monk's frock ? What
then would become of father and mother, dear Elsb, and the
little ones? The thought of their dear faces seemed for an
instant to drive away these gloomy fears, as they say a hearth-
fire keeps off the wolves. But then a hollow voice seemed to
whisper, " If God is against you, and the saints, and your con-
science, what help can you render your family or any one else?**
The conflict seemed more than I could bear. It was so im-
possible to me to make out which suggestions were fi'om the
devil and which from God, and which from my own sinfiil
heart; and yet it might be the unpardonable sin to confound
them. Wherefore for the rest of the night I tried not to think
at all, but paced up and down reciting the Ten Commandments,
the Creed, the Paternoster, the Ave Maria, the Litanies of the
Saints, and all the collects and holy ejaculations I could think
of. By degrees this seemed to calm me, especially the Creeds
and the Paternoster, whether because these are spells the fiends
Friedrich's Story. 43
especially dread, or because there is something so comforting
in the mere words, " Our Father," and " the remission of sins,"
I do not know. Probably for both reasons.
And so the morning dawned, and the low sunbeams slanted
up through the red stems of the pines; and I said the Ave
Maria, and thought of the sweet mother of God, and was a
little cheered.
But all the next day I could not recover from the terrors of
that solitary night A shadow seemed to have fallen on my
hopes and projects. How could I tell that all which had
seemed most holy to me as an object in life might not be
temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil ; and that with
all my labouring for my dear ones at home, my sins might not
bring on them more troubles than all my successes could avert?
As I left the shadow of the forest, however, my heart seemed
to grow lighter. I shall always henceforth feel sure that the
wildest legends of the forests may be true, and that the fiends
have especial haunts among the solitary woods at night
It was pleasant to see the towers of Erfurt rising before me
on the plain.
I had only one friend at the University; but that is Martin
Luther, and he is a host in himself to me. He is already dis-
tinguished among the students here ; and the professors expect
great things of him.
He is especially studying jurisprudence, because his father
wishes him to be a great lawyer. This also is to be my pro-
fession, and his counsel, always so heartily given, is of the
greatest use to me.
His life is, indeed, changed since we first knew him at
Eisenach, when Aunt Ursula took compassion on him, a desti-
tute scholar, singing at the doors of the houses in St George
Street for a piece of bread. His father's hard struggles to
maintain and raise his family have succeeded at last; he is now
the owner of a foundry and some smelting-fumaces, and
supports Martin liberally at the university. The icy morning
of Martin's struggles seems over, and all is bright before him.
^ Erfurt is the first University in Germany. Compared with
it, as Martin Luther says, the other universities are mere
'44 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
private academies. At present we have from a thousand to
thirteen hundred students. Some of our professors have studied
the classics in Italy, under the descendants of the ancient
Greeks and Romans. The Elector Frederic has, indeed, lately
founded a new University at Wittemberg, but we at Erfurt have
little fear of Wittemberg outstripping our ancient institution.
The Humanists, or disciples of the ancient heathen learning,
are in great force here, with Mutianus Rufus at their head.
They meet often, especially at his house, and he gives them
subjects for Latin versification, such as the praises of poverty.
Martin Luther's friend Spalatin joined these assemblies; but he
himself does not, at least not as a member. Indeed, strange
things are reported of their converse, which make the names of
poet and philosopher in which they delight very much suspected
in orthodox circles. These ideas Mutianus and his friends are
said to have imported with the classical literature from Italy.
He has even declared and written in a letter to a friend, that
"there is but one God, and one goddess, although under various
forms and various names, als Jupiter, Sol, Apollo, Moses, Christ;
Luna, Ceres, Proserpine, Tellus, Mary." But these things he
warns his disciples not to speak of in public. " They must be
veiled in silence," he says, " like the Eleusinian mysteries. In
the affairs of religion we must make use of the mask of fables
and enigmas. Let us by the grace of Jupiter, that is, of the
best and highest God, despise the lesser gods. When I say
Jupiter, I mean Christ and the true God."
Mutianus and his friends also in their intimate circles speak
most slightingly of the Church ceremonies, calling the Mass a
comedy, and the holy relics ravens' bones;* speaking of the
service of the altar as so much lost time ; and stigmatizing the
prayers at the canonical hours as a mere baying of hounds, or
the humming, not of busy bees, but of lazy drones.
If you reproached them with such irreverent sayings, they
would probably reply that they had only uttered tiiem in an
esoteric sense, and meant nothing by them. But when people
deem it right thus to mask their truths, and explain away their
errors, it is difficult to distinguish which is the mask and which
* That is, dceletons left on the gallows Sat the ravens to peek at
FrUdrkh's Story. 45
the reality in their estimation. It seems to me also that they
make mere intellectual games or exercises out of the most pro-
found and awful questions.
This probably, more than the daring character of their
speculations, deters Martin Luther from numbering himself
among them. His nature is so reverent in spite of all the
courage of his character. I think he would dare or suffer any-
thing for what he believed true; but he cannot bear to have
the poorest fragment of what he holds sacred trifled with or
played with as a mere feat of intellectual gymnastics.
His chief attention is at present directed, by his father'^
especial desire, to Roman literature and law, and to the study
of the allegories and philosophy of Aristotle. He likes to have
to do with what is true and solid ; poetry and music are his
delight and recreation. But it is in debate he most excels. A
few evenings since, he introduced me to a society of students,
where questions new and old are debated j and it was glorious
to see how our Martin carried off the palm; sometimes swoop-
ing down on his opponents like an eagle among a flock of small
birds, or setting down his great lion's paw and quietly crushing
a host of objections, apparently unaware of the mischief he had
done, until some feeble wail of the prostrate foe made him
sensible of it, and he withdrew with a good-humoured apology
for having hurt any one's feelings. At other times he withers
an unfair aigument or a confused statement to a cinder by some
lightning-flash of humour or satire. I do not think he is often
perplexed by seeing too much of the other side of a disputed
question. He holds the one truth he is contending for, and he
sees the one point he is aiming at, and at that he charges with
a force compounded of the ponderous weight of his will, and the
electric velocity of his thoughts, crushing whatever comes in his
way, scattering whatever escapes right and left, and never heed^
ing how the scattered forces may reunite and form in his rear.
He knows that if he only turns on them, in a moment they will
disperse again.
I cannot quite tell how this style of warfare would answer for
an advocate, who had to make the best of any cause he is
engaged to plead. I cannot fancy Martin Luther quietly
46 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
collecting the arguments from the worst side, to the end that
eren the worst side may have fair play; which is, I suppose,
often the office of an advocate.
No doubt, however, he will find or make his calling in the
world. The professors and learned men have the most brilliant
expectations as to his career. And what is rare (they say), he
seems as much the favourite of the students as of the professors.
His nature is so social ; his musical abilities and his wonderful
powers of conversation make him popular with all.
And yet, underneath it all, we who know him well can
detect at times that tide of thoughtful melancholy which seems
to lie at the bottom of all hearts which have looked deeply into
themselves or into life.
He is as attentive as ever to religion, never missing the daily
mass. But in our private conversations, I see that his con-
science is anything but at ease. Has he passed through
conflicts such as mine in the forest on that terrible night 1
Perhaps through conflicts as much fiercer and more terrible, as
his character is stronger and his mind deeper than mine. But
who can telH What is the use of unfolding perplexities to
each other, which it seems no intellect on earth can solve?
The inmost recesses of the heart must always, I suppose, be
a solitude, like that dark and awful sanctuary within the veil of
the old Jewish temple, entered only once a year, and faintly
illumined by the light without, through the thick folds of the
sacred veil.
If only that solitude were indeed a holy of holies or, being
what it is, if we only need enter it once a year, and not cany
about the consciousness of its dark secrets with us ever3rwhere.
But, alas ! once entered we can never forget it It is like the
chill, dark crypts underneath our churches, where the masses
for the dead are celebrated, and where in some monastic
churches the embalmed corpses lie shrivelled to mummies, and
visible through gratings. Through all the joyous festivals of
the holidays above, the consciousness of those dark chambers
of death below seems to creep up; like the damps of the vaults
through the incense, like the muffled wail of the dirges through
the songs of praise.
Friedrich's Story, 47
Erfurt, A^ril 1503.
We are just returned from an expedition which might have
proved fatal to Martin Luther. Early in the morning, three
days since, we started to walk to Mansfeld on a visit to his
family, our hearts as full of hope as the woods were full of song.
We were armed with swords ; our wallets were full ; and spirits
light as the air. Our way was to lie through field and forest,
and then along the banks of the river Holme, through the
Golden Meadow where are so many noble cloisters and im-
perial palaces.
But we had scarcely been on our way an hour when Martin,
by some accident, ran his sword into his foot To my dismay
the blood gushed out in a stream. He had cut into a main
artery. I left him under the care of some peasants, and ran
back to Erfurt for a physician. When he arrived, however,
there was great difficulty in closing the wound with bandages.
I longed for Elsb or our mother's skilful fingers. We contrived
to carry him back to the city. I sat up to watch with him.
But in the middle of the night his wound burst out bleeding
afresh. The danger was very great, and Martin himself giving
up hope, and believing death was close at hand, committed his
soul to the blessed Mother of God. Merciful and pitiful,
knowing sorrow, yet raised glorious above all sorrow, with a
mother's heart for all, and a mother's claim on Him who is the
judge of all, where indeed can we so safely flee for refuge as to
Maryl It was edifying to see Martin's devotion to her, and no
doubt it was greatly owing to this that at length the remedies
succeeded, the bandages closed the wound again, and the blood
was stanched.
Many an Ave will I say for this to the sweet Mother of
Mercy. Perchance she may also have pity on me. O sweetest
Lady, "eternal daughter of the eternal Father, heart of the
indivisible Trinity," thou seest my desire to help my own care-
worn mother; aid me, and have mercy on me, thy sinful child.
Erfurt, June 1503.
Martin Luther has taken his first degree. He is a fervent
student, earnest in this as in everything. Cicero and Virgil are
48 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
his great companions among the Latins. He is now raised
quite above the pressing cares of penury, and will probably
never taste them more. His father is now a prosperous burgher
of Mansfeld, and on the way to become burgomaster. I wish
the prospects at my home were as cheering. A few years less
of pinching poverty for myself seems to matter little, but the
cares of our mother and ls^ weigh on me often heavily. It
must be long yet before I can help them effectually, and meantime
the bright youth of my little Elsfe, and the very life of our toil-
worn patient mother, will be wearing away.
For myself I can fully enter into what Martin says, " The
young should learn especially to endure suffering and want \ for
such suffering doth them no harm. It doth more harm for one
to prosper without toil than it doth to endure suffering." He
says also, " It is God's way, of beggars to make men of power,
just as he made the world out of nothing. Look upon the
courts of kings and princes, upon cities and parishes. You will
there find jurists, doctors, councillors, secretaries, and preachers
who were commonly poor, and always such as have been
students, and have risen and flown so high through the quill
that they are become lords."
But the way to wealth through the quill seems long; and lives
so precious to me are being worn out meantime, while I climb
to the point where I could help them ! Sometimes I wish I
bad chosen the calling of a merchant, men seem to prosper
so much more rapidly through trade than through study; and
nothing on earth seems to me so well worth working for as to
lift the load from their hearts at home. But it is too late.
Rolling stones gather no moss, I must go on now in the
track I have chosen. Only sometimes again the fear which
came over me on that night in the forest. It seems as if
heaven were against me, and that it is vain presumption for
such as I even to hope to benefit any one.
Partly, no doubt, it is the depression, caused by poor living,
which brings these thoughts. Martin Luther said so to me one
day when he found me desponding. He said he knew so well
what it was. He had suffered so much from penury at Magdc-
burg, and at Eisenach had even seriously thought of giving up
FriedricKs Story. 49
study altogether and returning to his father's calling. He is
kind to me and to all who need, but his means do not yet allow
him to do more than maintain himself. Or rather, they are not
his but his father s, and he feels he has no right to be generous
at the expense of his father's self-denial and toil.
I find life look different, I must say, after a good meal. But
then I cannot get rid of the thought of the few such meals they
have at home. Not that Els^ writes gloomily. She never
mentions a thing to sadden me. And this week she sent me
a gulden, which she said belonged to her alone, and she had
vowed never to use unless I would take it But a student who
saw them lately said our mother looked wan and ill. And to
increase their difficulties, a month since the father receivfed into
the house a little orphan girl, a cousin of our mother's, called
Eva von Schonberg. Heaven forbid that I should grudge the
orphan her crust, but when it makes a crust less for the mother
and the little ones, it is difficult to rejoice in such an act of
charity.
Effurt, July 1503.
I have just obtained a nomination on a foundation, which
will, I hope, for the present at least, prevent my being any
burden on my family for my own maintenance. The rules are
very strict, and they are enforced with many awful vows and
oaths which trouble my conscience not a little, because, if the
least detail of these rules to which I have sworn is even inad-
vertently omitted, I involve myself in the guilt of perjury.
However, it is a step onward in the way to independence; and
a far heavier yoke might well be borne with such an object
We (the beneficiaries on this foundation) have solemnly
vowed to observe the seven canonical hours, never omitting the
prayers belonging to each. This insures early rising, which is
a good thing for a student The most difficult to keep is
the midnight hour, after a day of hard study; but it is no more
than soldiers on duty have continually to go through. We have
also to chant the Miserere at funerals, and frequently to hear the
eulogy of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This last can certainly not
be called a hardship, least of all to me who desire ever hence*
forth to have an especial devotion to Our Lady, to recite daily
4
50 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
the Rosary, commemorating the joys of Mary, the Salutation,
the journey across the mountains, the birth without pain, the
finding of Jesus in the Temple, and the Ascension. It is only
the vows which make it rather a bondage. But, indeed, in
spite of all, it is a great boon. I can conscientiously write to
Elsb now; that I shall not need another penny of their scanty
store, and can even, by the next opportunity, return what she
sent, which, happily, I have not yet touched.
August 1503.
Martin Luther is very dangerously ill; many of the professors
and students are in great anxiety about him. He has so many
friends ; and no wonder ! He is no cold friend himself, and all
expect great honour to the University from his abilities. I
scarcely dare to think what his loss would be to me. But this
morning an aged priest who visited him inspired us with some
hope. As Martin lay, apparently in the last extremity, and
himself expecting death, this old priest came to his bed-side,
and said gently, but in a firm tone of conviction,
" Be of good comfort, my brother, you will not die at this
time; God will yet make a great man of you, who shall comfort
many others. Whom God loveth and proposeth to make a
blessing, upon him he early layeth the cross, and in that school,
who patiently endure learn much."
The words came with a strange kind of power, and I cannot
help thinking that there is a little improvement in the patient
since they were uttered. Truly, good words are like food and
medicine to body and soul.
Erfurt, August 1503.
Martin Luther is recovered ! The Almighty, the Blessed
Mother, and all the saints be praised.
The good old priesf s words have also brought some especial
comfort to me. If it could only be possible that those troubles
and cares which have weighed so heavily on Els^*s early life
and mine, are not the rod of anger; but the cross laid on those
God loveth ! But who can tell ] For Elsb, at least, I will try
to believe this.
The world is wide in those days, with the great New World
opened by the Spanish mariners beyond the Atlantic, and the
FriedricKs Story, 5 1
noble Old World opened to students through the sacred foun-
tains of the ancient classics, once more unsealed by the revived
study of the ancient languages; and this new discovery of
printing, which will, my father thinks, diffuse the newly unsealed
fountains of ancient wisdom in countless channels among high
and low.
These are glorious times to live in. So much already un-
folded to us! And who knows what beyond? For it seems as
if the hearts of men everywhere were beating high with expecta-
tion ; as if, in these days, nothing were too great to anticipate,
or too good to believe.
It is well to encounter our dragons at the threshold of life ;'
instead of at the end of the race at the threshold of death ;
therefore, I may well be content. In this wide and ever widen-
ing world, there must be some career for me and mine. What
will it be ?
And what will Martin Luther's be 7 Much is expected from
him. Famous every one at the University says he must be.
On what field will he win his laurels % Will they be laurels or
palms?
When I hear him in the debates of the students, all waiting
for his opinions, and applauding his eloquent words, I see the
laurel already among his black hair, wreathing his massive
homely forehead. But when I remember the debate which I
know there is within him, the anxious fervency of his devotions,
his struggle of conscience, his distress at any omission of duty,
and watch the deep melancholy look which there is sometimes
in his dark eyes, I think not of the tales of the heroes, but of
the legends of the saints, and wonder in what victory over the
old dragon he will win his palm.
But die bells are sounding for compline, and I must not miss
the sacred hour.
m.
ElSBNACH, Z504.
CANNOT say that things have prospered much with
us since Fritz left. The lumber-room itself is changed.
The piles of old books are much reduced, because we
have been obliged to pawn many of them for food. Some even
of the father's beautiful models have had to be sold. It went
terribly to his heart. But it paid our debts.
Our grandmother has grown a little querulous at times lately.
And I am so tempted to be cross sometimes. The boys eat so
much, and wear out their clothes so fast. Indeed, I cannot
see that poverty makes any of us any better, except it be my
mother, who needed improvement least of all.
Septetnber 1504.
The father has actually brought a new inmate into the house,
a little girl, called Eva von Schonberg, a distant cousin of our
mother.
Last week he told us she was coming, very abruptly. I
think he was rather afraid of wha^ our grandmother would say,
for we all know it is not of the least use to come round her
with soft speeches. She always sees what you are aiming at,
and with her keen eyes cuts straight through all your circumlo-
cutions, and obliges you to descend direct on your point, with
more rapidity than grace.
Accordingly, he said, quite suddenly, one day at dinner,
" I forgot to tell you, little mother, I have just had a letter
from your relations in Bohemia. Your great-uncle is dead.
His son, you know, died before him. A little orphan girl is
left with no one to take care of her. I have desired them to
send her to us. I could do no less. It was an act, not of
Else's Story. 53
charity, but of the plainest duty. And besides," he added,
apologetically, " in the end it may make our fortunes. There
is property somewhere in the family, if we could get it; and this
little Eva is the descendant of the eldest branch. Indeed, I do
not know but that she may bring many valuable family heir-
looms with her."
These last observations he addressed especially to my grand-
mother, hoping thereby to make it clear to her that the act was
one of the deepest worldly wisdom. Then turning to the
mother, he concluded,
" Little mother, thou wilt find a place for the orphan in thy
heart, and Heaven will no doubt bless us for it"
" No doubt about the room in my daughter's heart!" mur-
mured our grandmother; "the question, as I read it, is not
about hearts, but about larders and wardrobes. And, certainly,"
she added, not very pleasantly, " there is room enough there
for any family jewels the young heiress may bring."
As usual, the mother came to the rescue.
" Dear grandmother," she said, " Heaven, no doubt, will
repay us ; and besides, you know, we may now venture on a
little more expanse, since we are out of debt."
" There is no doubt, I suppose," retorted our grandmother,
" about Heaven repaying you ; but there seems to me a good
deal of doubt whether it will be in current coin."
Then, I suppose fearing the effect of so doubtful a sentiment
on the children, she added rather querulously, but in a gentler
tone,
" Let the little creature come. Room may be made for her
soon in one way or another. The old creep out at the church-
yard gate, while the young bound in at the front door."
And in a few days little Eva came ; but, unfortunately with-
out the family jewels. But the saints forbid I should grow
mercenary or miserly, and grudge the orphan her crust !
And who could help welcoming little Eva 1 As she lies on
my bed asleep, with her golden hair on the pillow, and the long
lashes shading her cheek, flushed with sleep and resting on her
dimpled white hand, who could wish her away 1 And when I
put out the lamp (as I must very soon) and lie down beside
54 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta FatnUy.
her, she will half awake, just to nestle into my heart, and mur-
mur in her sleep, " Sweet cousin Elsfe 1" And I shall no more
be able to wish her gone than my guardian angel Indeed I
think she is something like one.
She is not quite ten years old ; but being an only child, and
always brought up with older people, she has a quiet, con-
siderate way, and a quaint, thoughtful gravity, which sits with a
strange charm on her bright, innocent, child-like face.
At first she seemed a little afraid of our children, especially
the boys, and crept about everywhere by the side of my mother,
to whom she gave her confidence from the beginning. She did
not so immediately take to our grandmother, who was not very
warm in her reception ; but the second evening after her arrival,
she deliberately took her little stool up to our grandmother's
side, and seating herself at her feet, laid her two little, soft
hands on the dear, thin, old hands, and said,
" You must love me, for I shall love you very much. You
are like my great-aunt who died."
And, strange to say, our grandmother seemed quite flattered ^
and ever since they have been close friends. Indeed she com-
mands us all, and there is not one in the house who does not
seem to think her notice a favour. I wonder if Fritz would feel
the same !
Our father lets her sit in his printing-room when he is making
experiments, which none of us ever dared to do. She perches
herself on the window-sill, and watches him as if she imderstood
it all, and he talks to her as if he thought she did.
Then she has a wonderful way of telling the legends of the
saints to the children. When our grandmother tells them, I
think of the saints as heroes and warriors. When I try to relate
the sacred stories to the little ones, I am afraid I make them
too much like fairy tales. But when little Eva is speaking about
St. Agnes or St. Catherine, her voice becomes soft and deep, like
church music ; and her face grave and beautiful, like one of the
child-angels in the pictures ; and her eyes as if they saw into
heaven. I wish Fritz could hear her. I think she must be just
what the saints were when they were little children, except for
that strange, quiet way she has of making every one do what
Elsk's Story. 55
she likes. If our St Elizabeth had resembled our little Eva in
that, I scarcely think the Landgravine-mother would have ven-
tured to have been so cruel to her. Perhaps it is little Eva
who is to be the saint among us ; and by helping her we may
best please God, and be admitted at last to some humble place
in heaven.
Eisenach, December.
It is a great comfort that Fritz writes in such good spirits.
He seems full of hope as to his prospects, and already he has
obtained a place in some excellent institution, where, he says,
he lives like a cardinal, and is quite above wanting assistance
from any one. This is very encours^ng. Martin Luther, also,
is on the way to be quite a great man, Fritz says. It is difficult
to imagine this ; he looked so much like any one else, and we
are all so completely at home with him, and he talks in such a
simple, familiar way to us all not in learned words, or about
difficult, abstruse subjects, like the other wise men I know.
Certainly it always interests us all to hear him, but one can
understand all he says even I can ; so that it is not easy to
think of him as a philosopher and a great man. I suppose wise
men must be like the saints : one can only see what they are
when they are at some distance from us.
What kind of great man will Martin Luther be, I wonder 1
As great as our burgomaster, or as Master Trebonius % Perhaps
even greater than these ; as great, even, as the Elector's secre-
tary, who came to see our father about his inventions. But it
is a great comfort to think of it, especially on Fritz's account ;
for I am sure Martin will never forget old friends.
I cannot quite comprehend Eva's religion. It seems to make
her happy. I do not think she is afraid of God, or even of con-
fession. She seems to enjoy going to church as if it were a holi-
day in the woods ; and the name of Jesus seems not terrible,
but dear to her, as the name of the sweet Mother of God is to
me. This is very difficult to understand. I think she is not even
very much afraid of the judgment-day ; and this is the reason
. why I think so: The other night when we were both awakened by
an awful thunder-storm, I hid my face under the clothes, in
prder not to see the flashes, until I heard the children cr3dng in the
56 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
next room, and rose of course, to soothe them, because our
mother had been very tired that day, and was, I trusted, asleep.
When I had sung and talked to the little ones, and sat by them
till they were asleep, I returned to our room, trembling in every
limb ; but I found Eva kneeling by the bed-side, with her cruci-
fix pressed to her bosom, looking as calm and happy as if the
lightning flashes had been morning sunbeams.
She rose from her knees when I entered ; and when I was
once more safely in bed, with my arm around her, and the storm
had lulled a little, I said,
" Eva, are you not afraid of the lightning % "
"I think it might hurt us. Cousin Elsb," she said; "and that
was the reason I was praying to God"
"But, Eva," I said, "supposing the thunder should be the
archangel's voice ! I always think every thunder-storm may be
the beginning of the day of wrath the dreadful judgment-day.
What should you do then]"
She was silent a little, and then she said,
" I think 1 should take my crucifix and pray, and try to ask
the Lord Christ to remember that he died on the cross for us
once. I think he would take pity on us if we did. Besides,
Cousin Elsb," she addedL after a pause, " I have a sentence
which always comforts me. My father taught it me when I
was a very little girl, in the prison, before he died. I could not
remember it all, but this part I have never forgotten : * God so
loved the worlds that he gave his only Son,* There was more,
which I forgot ; but that bit I always remembered, because I
was my father's only child, and he loved me so dearly. I do
not quite know all it means; but I know they are God's
words, but I feel sure it means that God loves us very much,
and that he is in some way like my father."
"I know," I replied, "the Creed says, *God the Father
Almighty;' but I never thought that the Almighty Father meant
an)rthing like our own father. I thought it meant only that he
is very great, and that we all belong to him, and that we ought
to love him. Are you sure, Eva, it means he loves us ?"
" I believe so. Cousin Els^," said Eva.
" Perhaps it does mean that he loves you, Eva," I answered
Elsies Story. 57
" But you are a good child, and always have been, I should
think ; and we all know that God loves people who are good.
That sentence says nothing, you see, about God loving people
who are not good. It is because I am never sure that I am
doing the things that please him, that I am afraid of God and
of the judgment-day."
Eva was silent a minute, and then she said,
** I wish I could remember the rest of the sentence. Perhaps
it might tell."
"Where does that sentence come from, Eval" I asked.
"Perhaps we might find it. Do you think God said it to
your father fi-om heaven, in a vision or a dream, as he speaks
to the saints 1"
" I think not. Cousin Else," she replied thoughtfully ; " be-
cause my father said it was in a book, which he told me where
to find, when he was gone. But when I found the book, a
priest took it from me, and said it was not a good book for little
girls ; and I never had it again. So I have only my sentence,
Cousin Els^. I wish it made you happy, as it does me."
I kissed the dariing child and wished her good night ; but I
could not sleep. I wish I could see the book. But perhaps,
after all, it is not a right book ; because (although Eva does not
know it) I heard my grandmother say her father was a Hussite,
and died on the scaffold for believing something wrong.
In the morning Eva was awake before me. Her large dark
eyes were watching me, and the moment I woke she said,
" Cousin Elsb, I think tlie end of that sentence has some-
thing to do with the crucifix ; because I always think of them
together. You know the Lord Jesus Christ is God's only Son,
and he died on the cross for us."
And she rose and dressed, and said she would go to matins
and say prayers for me, that I might not be afraid in the next
thunder-storm. *
It must be true, I am sure, that the cross and the blessed
Passion were meant to do us some good ; but then they can
only do good to those who please God, and that is precisely
what it is so exceedingly difficult to find out how to do.
I cannot think, however, that Eva can in any way be believ-
58 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
ing wrong, because she is so religious and so good. She attends
most regularly at the confessional, and is always at church at
the early mass, and many times besides. Often, also, I find
her at her devotions before the crucifix and the picture of the
Holy Virgin and Child in our room. She seems really to en-
joy being religious, as they say St Elizabetii did.
As for me, there is so very much to do between the printing,
and the house, and our dear mothers ill health, and the baby,
and the boys, who tear their clothes in such incomprehensible
ways, that I feel more and more how utterly hopeless it is for
me ever to be like any of the saints ^unless, indeed, it is St
Christopher, whose legend is often a comfort to me, as our
grandmother used to t^U it to us, which was in this way :
Offerus was a soldier, a heathen, who lived in the land of
Canaan. He had a body twelve ells long. He did not like to
obey, but to command. He did not care what harm he did to
others, but lived a wild life, attacking and plundering all who
came in his way. He only wished for one thing to sell his ser-
vices to the Mightiest; and as he heard that the emperor was in
those days the head of Christendom, he said, "Lord Emperor,
will you have me ? To none less will I sell my heart's blood."
The emperor looked at his Samson strength, his giant chest,
and his mighty fists, and he said, " If thou wilt serve me for
ever, Offerus, I will accept thee."
Immediately the giant answered, " To serve you for ever is
not so easily promised ; but as long as 1 am your soldier, none
in east or west shall trouble you."
Thereupon he went with the emperor through all the land,
and the emperor was delighted with him. All the soldiers, in
the combat as at the wine-cup, were miserable, helpless creatures
compared with Offerus.
Now the emperor had a harper who sang from morning till
bed-time ; and whenever the emperor was weary with the
march this minstrel had to touch his harp-strings. Once, at
eventide, they pitched the tents near a forest The emperor
ate and drank lustily ; the minstrel sang a merry song. But as,
in his song, he spoke of the evil one, the emperor signed the
cross on his forehead. Said Offerus aloud to his comrades^
Elsi's Story. 59
" What is this 1 What jest is the Prince making now ?" Then
the emperor said, " Offerus, listen : I did it on account of the
wicked fiend, who is said often to haunt this forest with great
rage and fuiy." That seemed marvellous to Offerus, and he
said, scornfully, to the emperor, " I have a fancy for wild boars
and deer. Let us hunt in this forest" The emperor said softly,
" Offerus, no ! Let alone the chase in this forest, for in filHng
thy larder thou mightst harm thy soul." Then Oflferus made a
wry face, and said, " The grapes are som: ; if your highness is
afraid of the devil, I will enter the service of this lord, who is
mightier than you." Thereupon he coolly demanded his pay,
fook his departure, with no very ceremonious leave-taking, and
strode off cheerily into the thickest depths of the forest.
In a wild clearing of the forest he found the devil's altar, built
of black cinders; and on it, in the moonlight gleamed the white
skeletons of men and horses. Offerus was in no way terrified,
but quietly inspected the skulls and bones; then he called three
times in a loud voice on the evil one, and seating himself fell
asleep, and soon began to snore. When it was midnight, the
earth seemed to crack, and on a coal-black horse he saw a pitch-
black rider, who rode at him furiously, and sought to bind him
with solemn promises. But Offerus said, "We shall see." Then
they went together through the kingdoms of the world, and
Oflferus found him a better master than the emperor; needed
seldom to polish his armour, but had plenty of feasting and fun.
However, one day as they went along the high-road, three tall
crosses stood before them. Then the Black Prince suddenly
had a cold, and said, " Let us creep round by the bye-road."
Said Offerus, " Methinks you are afraid of those gallows trees,"
and, drawing his bow, he shot an arrow into the middle cross.
" What bad manners ! " said Satan, softly ; " do you not know
that he who in his form as a servant is the son of Mary, now
exercises great power 1 " If that is the case," said Offerus, " I
came to you fettered by no promise ; now I will seek further for
the mightiest, whom only I will serve." Then Satan went off
with a mocking laugh, and Offerus went on his way asking every
traveller he met for the Son of Mary. But, alas ! few bare Him
in their hearts; and no one could tell the giant where the Lord
6o Chronicles of the ScJwnOerg-Cotta Family.
dwelt, until one evening Oflferus found an old pious hermit, who
gave him a nighf s lodging in his cell, and sent him next morn-
ing to the Carthusian cloister. There the lord prior listened to
Oflferus, showed him plainly the path of faith, and told him he
must fast and pray, as John the Baptist did of old in the wilder-
ness. But he replied, " Locusts and wild honey, my lord, are
quite contrary to my nature, and I do not know any prayers. I
should lose my strength altogether, and had rather not go to
heaven at all than in that way." "Reckless man!" said the
prior. " However, you may try another way : give jrourself up
heartily to achieve some good work." " Ah ! let me hear," said
Oflferus; "I have strength for that." " See, there flows a mighty
river, which hinders pilgrims on their way to Rome. It has
neither ford nor bridge. Carry the faithful over on thy back."
" If I can please the Saviour in that way, willingly will I cany
the travellers to and fro," replied the giant. And thereupon he
built a hut of reeds, and dwelt thenceforth among the water-rats
and beavers on the borders of the river, carrying pilgrims over
the river cheerfully, like a camel or an elephant. But if any
one oflfered him ferry-money, he said, " I labour for eternal life."
And when now, after many years, Oflferus's hair had grown white,
one stormy night a plaintive little voice called to him, " Dear,
good, tall Oflferus, carry me across." Oflferus was tired and
sleepy, but he thought faithfully of Jesus Christ, and with weary
arms seizing the pine trunk which was his staflf when the floods
swelled high, he waded through the water and nearly reached
the opposite bank ; but he saw no pilgrim there, so he thought,
" I was dreaming," and went back and lay down to sleep again.
But scarcely had he fallen asleep when again came the little
voice, this time very plaintive and touching, " Oflferus, good,
dear, great, tall Oflferus, carry me across." Patiently the old
giant crossed the river again, but neither man nor mouse was to
be seen, and he went back and lay down again, and was soon
fast asleep ; when once more came the little voice, clear and
plaintive, and imploring, " Good, dear, giant Oflferus, carry me
across." The third time he seized his pine-stem and went
through the cold river. This time he found a tender, fair little
boy, with golden hair. In his left hand was the standard of the
Elsies Story, 6i
Lamb ; in his right, the globe. He looked at the giant with eyes
full of love and trust, and OfFerus lifted him up with two fingers;
but, when he entered the river, the little child weighed on him
like a ton. Heavier and heavier grew the weight, until the
water almost reached his chin ; great drops of sweat stood on
his brow, and he had nearly sunk in the stream with the little
one. However, he struggled through, and tottering to the other
side, set the child gently down on the bank, and said, " My
little lord, prithee, come not this way again, for scarcely have I
escaped this time with life." But the fair child baptized OfFerus
on the spot, and said to him, " Know all thy sins are forgiven ;
and although thy limbs tottered, fear not, nor marvel, but re-
joice ; thou hast carried the Saviour of the world ! For a token,
plant thy pine-trunk, so long dead and leafless, in the earth; to-
morrow it shall shoot out green twigs. And henceforth thou
shalt be called not OfFerus, but Christopher." Then Christopher
folded his hands and prayed and said, " I feel my end draws nigh.
My limbs tremble; my strength fails; and God has forgiven me
all my sins." Thereupon the child vanished in light; and Chris-
topher set his staff in the earth. And so on the morrow, it shot
out green leaves and red blossoms like an almond. And three
days afterwards the angels carried Christopher to Paradise.
This is the legend which gives me more hope than any other.
How sweet it would be, if, when I bad tried in some humble
way to help one and another on the way to the holy city, when
the last burden was borne, and the strength was failing, the holy
child should appear to me and say, " Little Els^, you have done
the work I meant you to do ^your sins are forgiven;" and then
the angels were to come and take me up in their arms, and carry
me across the dark river, and my life were to grow young and
bloom again in Paradise, like St. Christopher's withered staff !
But to watch all the long days of life by the river, and carry
the burdens, and not know if we are doing the right thing after
all ^that is what is so hard I
Sweet, when the river was crossed, to find that in fulfilling
some little, humble, everyday duty, one had actually been serv-
ing and pleasing the mightiest, the Saviour of the world ! But
if one could only know it whilst one was struggling through the
62 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
flood, how delightful that would be ! How little one would
mind the icy water, or the aching shoulders, or the tottering,
failing limbs !
Eisenach, yanumy 1505.
Fritz is at home with us again. He looks as much a man now
as ()ur father, with his moustache and his sword. How cheer-
ful the sound of his firm step and his deep voice makes the
house ! When I look at him sometimes, as he tosses the child-
ren and catches them in his arms, or as he flings the balls with
Christopher and Pollux, or shoots with bow and arrows in the
evenings at the city games, my old wish recurs that he had lived
in the days when our ancestors dwelt in the castles in Bohemia,
and that Fritz had been a knight, to ride at the head of his re-
tainers to battle for some good cause, against the Turks, for
instance, who are now, they say, threatening the empire, and all
Christendom. My little world at home is wide indeed, and full
enough for me, but this burgher life seems narrow and poor for
him. I should like him to have to do with men instead of books.
Women can read, and learn, and think, if they have time (al-
though, of course, not as well as men can) \ I have even heard
of women writing books. St Barbara and St Catherine under-
stood astronomy, and astrology, and philosophy, and could speak
I do not know how many languages. But they could not have
gone forth armed with shield and spear like St George of Cap-
padocia, to deliver the fettered princess and slay the great Afri-
can dragon. And I should like Fritz to do what women cannot
do. There is such strength in his light, agile frame, and such
power in his dark eyes ; although, certainly after all he had written
to us about his princely fare at the House at Erfurt, where
he is a beneficiary, our mother and I did not expect to have
seen his face looking so hollow and thin.
He has brought me back my godmother's gulden. He says
he is an independent man, earning his own livelihood, and quite
above receiving any such gratuities. However, as I devoted it
to Fritz I feel I have a right to spend it on him, which is a great
comfort, because I can provide a better table than we can usually
afford, during the few days he will stay with us, so that he may
never guess how pinched we often are.
Elsi's Story, 63
I am ashamed of myself, but there is something in this return
of Fritz which disappoints me. I have looked forward to it
day and night through all these two years with such longing. I
thought we should begin again exactly where we left off. I pictured
to myself the old daily life with him going on again as of old.
I thought of our sitting in the lumber-room, and chatting over
all our perplexities, our own and the family's, and pouring our
hearts into each other's without reserve or fear, so that it was
scarcely like talking at all, but like thinking aloud.
And, now, instead of our being acquainted with eveiy detail
of each other's daily life, so that we are aware what we are
feeling without speaking about it, there is a whole history of new
experience to be narrated step by step, and we do not seem
to know where to begin. None of the others can feel this as
I do. He is all to the ' children and our parents that he ever
was, and why should I expect more? Indeed, I scarcely know
what I did expect, or what I do want Why should Fritz be
more to me than to any one else % It is selfish to wish it, and
it is childish to imagine that two years could bring no change.
Could I have wished it? Do I not glory in his strength, and
in his free and manly bearing % And could I wish a student at
the great University of Erfurt, who is. soon to be a Bachelor of
Arts, to come and sit on the piles of old books in our lumber-
room, and to spend his time in gossiping with me? Besides,
what have I to say % And yet, this evening, when the twilight-
hour came round for the third time since he returned, and he
seemed to forget all about it, I could not help feeling troubled,
and so took refuge here by myself.
Fritz has been sitting in the family-room for the last hour,
with all the children round him, telling them histories of what
the students do at Erfurt; of their poetical club, where they meet
and recite their own verses, or translations of the ancient books
which have been unburied lately, and yet are fresher, he says,
than any new ones, and set every one thinking; of the debating
meeting, and the great singing parties where hundreds of voices
join,' making music fuller than any organ, in both of which
Martin Luther seems a leader and a prince ; and then of the
fights among the students, in which I do not think Martin Luther
64 Chronicles of the Sclmiberg-Cotta Family,
has joined, but which, certainly, interest Christopher and Pol-
lux more than anything else. The boys were standing on each
side of Fritz, listening with wide open eyes; Chriemhild and At-
lantis had crept close behind him with their sewing; little Thekla
was on his knee, playing with his sword-girdle; and little Eva
was perched in her favourite place on the window-sill, in front
of him. At first she kept at a distance from him, and said no-
thing; not, I think, from shyness, for I do not believe thatdiild
is afraid of any one or any thing, but from a quaint way she has
of observing people, as if she were learning them through like a
new language, or, like a sovereign making sure of the character
of a new subject befiwe she admits him into her service. The
idea of the little creature treating our Fritz in that grand style !
But it is of no use resisting it He has passed through his pro-
bation like the rest of us, and is as much fluttered as the grand-
mother, or any of us, at being admitted into her confidence.
When I left, Eva, who had been listening for some time with
great attention to his student-stories, had herself become the
chief speaker, and the whole party were attending with riveted
interest while she related to them her favourite Legend of St
Catherine. They had all heard it before, but in some way when
Eva tells these histories they always seem new. I suppose it is
because she believes them so -fervently; it is not as if she were
repeating something she had heard, but quietly narrating some-
thing she has seen, much as one would imagine an angel might
who had been watching unseen while it all happened. And,
meantime, her eyes, when she raises them, with their fringe of
long lashes, seem to look at once into your heart and into
heaven.
No wonder Fritz forgets the twilight-hour. But it is strange
he has never once asked about our chronicle. Of that, however,
I am glad, because I would not for the world show him the
narrative of our struggles.
Can it be possible I am envious of little Eva dear, little,
loving, orphan Eva? I do rejoice that all the world should
love him. Yet, it was so happy to be Fritz's only friend ; and
why should a little stranger child steal my precious twilight-houi
from mc]
Elsi's Story, 65
Well, I suppose Aunt Agnes was right, and I made an idol
of Fritz, and God was angry, and I am being punished. But
the saints seemed to find a kind of sacred pleasure in their
punishments, and I do not; nor do I feel at all the better for
them, but the worse ^which is another proof how hopeless it
is for me to try to be a saint.
EiSBNACH, February.-
As I wrote those last words in the deepening twilight, two strong
hands were laid very gently on my shoulders, and a voice said
" Sister Elsb, why can you not show me your chronicle 1"
I could make no reply.
" You are convicted," rejoined the same voice.
Do you think I do not know where that gulden came from?
Let me see your godmother's purse."
I began to feel the tears choking me ; but Fritz did not seem
to notice them.
" Elsfe," he said, " you may practise your little deceptive arts
on all the rest of the family, but they will not do with me. Do
you think you will ever persuade me you have grown thin by
eating sausages and cakes and wonderful holiday puddings
every day of your life? Do you think the hungry delight in the
eyes of those boys was occasioned by their everyday, ordinary
fare? Do you think," he added, taking my hands in one of his,
'* I did not see how blue and cold, and covered with chilblains,
these little hands were, which piled up the great logs on the
hearth when I came in this morning?"
Of course I could do nothing but put my bead on his shoul-
der and cry quietly. It was of no use denying anything. Then
he added rapidly, in a low deep voice
" Do you think I could help seeing our mother at her old
devices, pretending she had no appetite, and liked nothing so
much as bones and sinews?"
" O Fritz," I sobbed, " I cannot help it. What am I to do?"
"At least," he said, more cheerfully, "promise me, little
woman, you will never make a distinguished stranger of your
brother again, and endeavour by all kinds of vain and deceitful
devices to draw the whole weight of the family cares on your
own shoulders."
5
66 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
'' Do you think it is a sin I ought to confess, Fritzl" I said;
'^ I did not mean it deceitfully; but I am always making such
blunders about right and wrong. What can I dol"
" Does Aunt Ursula knowl" he asked rather fiercely.
"No; the mother will not let me tell any one. She thinks
they would reflect on our father; and he told her only last
week, he has a plan about a new way of smelting lead, which is,
I think, to turn it all into silver. That would certainly be a
wonderful discovery; and he thinks the Elector would take it
up at once, and we should probably have to leave Eisenach and
live near the Electoral Court Perhaps even the Emperor
would require us to communicate the secret to him, and then
we should have to leave the country altogether; for you know
there are great lead-mines in Spain ; and if once people could
make silver out of lead, it would be much easier and safer than
going across the great ocean to procure the native silver from
the Indian savages.''
Fritz drew a long breath.
"And meantime?" he said.
"Well, meantime?" I said, "it is, of course, sometimes a
httle difficult to get on."
He mused a little while, and then he said
" Little Elsfe, I have thought of a plan which may, I thinfc
bring us a few guldens until the process of transmuting lead
into silver is completed."
" Of course," I said, " after that we shall want nothing, but
be able to give to those who do want. And oh, Fritz ! how well
we shall understand how to help people who are poor. Do
you think that is why God lets us be so poor ourselves so long,
and never seems to hear our prayers 1"
" It would be pleasant to think so, Els^," said Fritz, gravely;
" but it is very difficult to understand how to please God, or how
to make our prayers reach him at all at least when we are so
often feeling and doing wrong."
It cheered me to see that Fritz does not despair of the great
invention succeeding one day. He did not tell me what his
own plan is.
Does Fritz, then, also feel so sinful and so perplexed how to
Else's Story, 6y
please God? Perhaps a great many people feel the same. It
is. very strange. If it had only pleased God to make it a little
plainer! I wonder if that book Eva lost would tell us anything!
After that evening the barrier between me and Fritz was of
course quite gone, and we seemed closer than ever. We had
delightful twilight talks in our lumber-room, and I love him
more than ever. So that Aunt Agnes would, I suppose, think
me more of an idolater than before. But it is very strange that
idolatry should seem to do me so much good. I seem to love
all the world better for loving Fritz, and to find everything
easier to bear, by having him to unburden everything on, so
that I had never fewer little sins to confess than during the two
weeks Fritz was at home. If God had only made loving
brothers and sisters and the people at home the way to please
him, instead of not loving them too much, or leaving them all
to bury one's self in a cold convent, like Aunt Agnes !
Little Eva actually persuaded Fritz to begin teaching her the
Latin grammar ! I suppose she wishes to be like her beloved
St. Catherine, who was so learned. And she says all the holy
books, the prayers and the hymns, are in Latin, so that she
thinks it must be a language God particularly loves. She asked
me a few days since if they speak Latin in heaven.
Of course I could not tell. I told her I believed the Bible
was originally written in two other languages, the languages of
the Greeks and the Jews, and that I had heard some one say
Adam and Eve spoke the Jews' language in paradise, which I
suppose God taught them.
But I have been thinking over it since, and I should not
wonder if Eva is right.
Because, unless Latin is the language of the saints and holy
angels in heaven, why should God wish the priests to speak it
everywhere, and the people to say the Ave and Paternoster in
iti We should understand it all so much better in German;
but of course if Latin is the language of the blessed saints and
angels, that is a reason for it. If we do not always imder-
stand, THEY do, which is a great comfort. Only I think it is a
very good plan of little Eva's to try and leam Latin; and when
I have more time to be religious, perhaps I may try also.
IV,
Erfurt, 1505.
|H university seems rather a cold world after the dear
old home at Eisenach. But it went to my heart to
see how our mother and Elsb struggle, and how worn
and thin they look. Happily for them, they have still hope in
the great invention, and I would not take it away for the world.
But meantime, I must at once do something to help. I can
sometimes save some viands from my meals, which are por-
tioned out to us liberally on this foundation, and sell them;
and I can occasionally earn a little by cop3ring themes for the
richer students, or sermons and postils for the monks. The
printing-press has certainly made that means of maintenance
more precarious; but printed books are still very dear, and also
very large, and the priests are often glad of small copies of
fragments of the postils, or orations of the fathers, written off in
a small, clear hand, to take with them on their circuits around
the villages. There is also writing to be done for the lawyers,
so that I do not despair of earning something: and if my
studies are retarded a little, it does not so much matter. It is
not for me to aspire to great things, unless, indeed, they can
be reached by small and patient steps. I have a work to do
for the family. My youth must be given to supporting them
by the first means I can find. If I succeed, perhaps Chris-
topher or Pollux will have leisure to aim higher than I can; or,
perhaps, in middle and later life I iziyself shall have leisure to
pursue the studies of these great old classics, which seem to
make the horizon of our thoughts so wide, and the world so
glorious and large, and life so deep. It would certainly be a
Friedr kit's Story. 69
great deKght to devote one's self, as Martin Luther is now able
to do, to literature and philosophy. His career is opening
nobly. This spring he has taken his degree as Master of Arts,
and he has been lecturing on Aristotle's physics and logic. He
has great power of making dim things clear, and old things
fresh. His lectures are crowded. He is also studying law, in
order to qualify himself for some office in the State. His parents
(judging from his father's letters) seem to centre all their hopes
in him; and it is almost the same here at the university. Great
things are expected of him; indeed there scarcely seems any
career that is not open to him. And he is a man of such heart,
as well as intellect, that he seems to make all the university,
the professors as well as the students, look on him as a kind of
possession of their own. All seem to feel a property in his
success. Just as it was with our little circle at Eisenach, so it
is with the great circle at the university. He is our Master
Martin; and in every step of his ascent we ourselves feel a little
higher. I wonder, if his fame should indeed spread as we an-
ticipate, if it will be the same one day with all Germany] if the
whole land will say exultingly by-and-by our Martin Luther?
Not that he is without enemies; his temper is too hot and
his heart too warm for that negative distinction of phlegmatic
negative natures.
yutUf 2505.
Martin Luther came to me a few days since, looking terribly
agitated. His friend Alexius has been assassinated, and he
takes it exceedingly to heart; not only, I think, because of the
loss of one he loved, but because it brings death so terribly
neiar, and awakens again those questionings which I know are
in the depths of his heart, as well as of mine, about God, and
judgment, and the dark, dread future before us, which we can-
not solve, yet cannot escape nor forget
To-day we met again, and he was full of a book he had dis-
covered in the university library, where he spends most of his
leisure hours. It was a Latin Bible, which he had never seen
before in his life. He marvelled greatly to see so much more
in it than in the Evangelia read in the churches, or in the Col-
lections of Homilies. He was called away to lecture, or, he
70 Chronicles of the Sckonberg-Cotta Family.
said, he could have read on for hour& Especially one history
seems to have impressed him deeply. It was in the Old Tes-
tament It was the story of the child Samuel and his mother
Hannah. " He read it quickly through," he said, " with hearty
delight and joy; and because this was all new to him, he began
to wish from the bottom of his heart that God would one day
bestow on him such a book for his own."
I suppose it is the thought of his own pious mother which
makes this history interest him so peculiarly. It is indeed a
beautiful history, as he told it me, and makes one almost wish
one had been bom in the times of the old Hebrew monarchy.
It seems as if God listened so graciously and readily then to
that poor sorrowful woman's prayers. And if we could only, each
of us, hear that voice from heaven, how joyful it would be to
reply, like that blessed child, "Speak, Lord, for thy servant
heareth;" and then to learn, without possibility of mistake,
what God really requires of each of us. I suppose, however,
the monks do feel as sure of their vocation as the holy child of
old, when they leave home and the world for the service of the
Church. It would be a great help if other people had voca-
tions to their various works in life, like the prophet Samuel and
(I suppose) the monks, that we might all go on fearlessly, with
a firm step, each in his appointed path, and feel sure that we
are doing the right thing, instead of perhaps drawing down
judgments on those we would die to serve, by our mistakes and
sins. It can hardly be intended that all men should be monks
and nuns. Would to Heaven, therefore, that laymen had also
their vocation, instead of this terrible uncertainty and doubt
that will shadow the heart at times, that we may have missed our
path (as I did that night in the snow-covered forest), and, like
Cain, be flying from the presence of God, and gathering on us
and ours his curse.
yufy 13, 1505.
There is a great gloom over the university. The plague is
among us. Many are lying dead who, only last week, were
full of youth and hope. Numbers of the professors, masters,
and students have fled to their homes, or to various villages in
the nearest reaches of the Thuringian forest The churches
Friedrich's Story, 71
are thronged at all the services. The priests and monks (those
who remain in the infected city) take advantage of the terror
the presence of the pestilence excites, to remind people of the
more awful terrors of that dreadful day of judgment and wrath
which no one will be able to flee. Women, and sometimes
men, are borne fainting from the churches, and often fall at
once under the infection, and never are seen again. Martin
Luther seems much troubled in mind. This epidemic, follow-
ing so clos6 on the assassination of his friend, seems to over-
whelm him. But he does not talk of leaving the city. Per-
haps the terrors which weigh most on him are those the
preachers recall so vividly to us just now, from which there is
no flight by change of place, but only by change of life.
During this last week, especially since he was exposed to a
violent thunder-storm on the high road near Erfurt, he has
seemed strangely altered. A deep gloom is on his face, and
he seems to avoid his old friends. I have scarcely spoken to
him.
To-day, to my great surprise, Martin has invited me and
several other of his friends to meet at his rooms on the day
after to-morrow, to pass a social evening in singing and feast-
ing. The plague has abated ; yet I rather wonder at any one
thinking of merry-making yet They say, however, that a
merry heart is the best safe-guard.
The secret of Martin Luther's feast is opened now. The
whole university is in consternation. He has decided on be-
coming a monk. Many think it is a sudden impulse, which
may yet pass away. I do not I believe it is the result of the
conflicts of years, and that he has only yielded, in this act, to
convictions which have been recurring to him continually dur-
ing all his brilliant university career.
Never did he seem more, animated than yesterday evening.
The hours flew by in eager, cheerful conversation. A weight
seemed removed from us. The pestilence was departing ; the
professors and students were returning. We felt life resuming
^ts old course, and ventured once more to look forward with
72 Chronicles of the Schofiberg-Cotta Family.
hope. Many of us had completed our academical course, and
were already entering the larger world beyond the university
of life. Some of us had appointments already promised, and
mosbof us had hopes of great things in the future; the less
definite the prospects, perhaps the more brilliant Martin
Luther did not hazard any speculations as to his future career ;
but that surprised none of us. His fortune, we said, was in-
sured already ; and many a jesting claim was put in for his
future patronage, when he should be a great man.
We had excellent music also, as always at any social gather-
ing where Martin Luther is. His clear, true voice was listened
to with applause in many a well-known song, and echoed in
joyous choruses afterward by the whole party. So the evening
passed, until the university hour for repose had nearly arrived ;
when suddenly, in the silence after the last note of the last chorus
had died away, he bid us all farewell ; for on the morrow, he
said, he purposed to enter the Augustinian monastery as a
novice 1 At first, some treated this as a jest ; but his look and
bearing soon banished that idea. Then all earnestly en-
deavoured to dissuade him from his purpose. Some spoke of
the expectations the university had formed of him others, of
the career in the world open to him ; but at all this he only
smiled. When, however, one of us reminded him of his father,
and the disappointment it might cause in his home, I noticed
that a change came over his face, and I thought there was
a slight quiver on his lip. But all, ^friendly remark, calm
remonstrance, fervent, affectionate entreaties, all were un-
availing.
"To-day," he said, "you see me; afler this you will see me
no more."
Thus we separated. But this morning, when some of his
nearest friends went to his rooms early, with the faint hope of
yet inducing him to listen, while we pressed on hin^ the
thousand unanswerable arguments which had occurred to us
since we parted from him, his rooms were empty, and he was
nowhere to be found. To all our inquiries we received no re-
ply but that Master Martin had gone that morning, before it
was light, to the Augustinian cloister.
FriedriMs Story, 73
Thither we followed him, and knocked loudly at the heavy
convent gates. After some minutes they were slightly opened,
and a sleepy porter appeared.
" Is Martin Luther here 1" we asked.
"He is here!" was the reply; not, we thought, without a
little triumph in the tone.
"We wish to spe^ with him," demanded one of us.
" No one is to speak with him," was the grim rejoinder.
" Until when ?" we asked.
There was a little whispering inside, and then came the de-
cisive answer, " Not for a month at least."
We would have lingered to parley further, but the heavy
nailed doors were closed against us, we heard the massive bolts
rattle as they were drawn, and all our assaults with fists or iron
staffs on the convent gates, from that moment did not awaken
another sound within.
"Dead to the world, indeed!" murmured one at length; "the
grave could not be more silent"
Baffled, and hoarse with shouting, we wandered back again
to Martin Luther's rooms. The old familiar rooms, where we
had so lately spent hours with him in social converse ; where I
and many of us had spent so many an hour in intimate, affec-
tionate intercourse, ^his presence would be there no mbre;
and the unaltered aspect of the mute, inanimate things only
made the emptiness and change more painful by the con-
trast
And yet, when we began to examine more closely, the aspect
of many things was changed. His flute and lute, indeed, lay
on the table, just as he had left them on the previous evening.
But the books ^scholastic, legal, and classical ^were piled up
carefully in one comer, and directed to the booksellers. In
looking over the well-known volumes, I only missed two, Virgil
and Plautus ; I suppose he took these with him. Whilst we
were looking at a parcel neatly rolled up in another place, the
old man who kept his rooms in order came in, and said, " That
is Master Martin's master's robe, his holiday attire, and his
master's ring. They are to be sent to his parents at Mans*
feld,"
74 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
A choking sensation came over me as I thought of the father
who had struggled so hard to maintain his son, and had hoped
so much from him, receiving that packet Not from the dead.
Worse than from the dead, it seemed to me. DeUberately self-
entombed; deliberately with his own hands building up a
barrier between him and all who love him best With the
dead, if they are happy, we may hold communion ^at least the
Creed speaks of the communion of saints; we may pray to
them ; or, at the worst, we may pray for them. But between
the son in the convent and the father at Mansfeld the barrier
is not merely one of stone and earth. It is of the impenetrable
iron of will and conscience. It would be a temptation now for
Martin Luther to pour out his heart in affectionate words to
father, mother, or friend.
And yet, if he is right, ^iif the flesh is only to be subdued, if
God is only to be pleased, if heaven is only to be won in this
way, ^it is of little moment indeed what the suffering may be
to us or any belonging to us in this fleeting life, down which the
grim gates of death which close it, ever cast their long shadow.
May not Martin serve his family better in the cloister than
at the emperor's court, for is not the cloister the court of a
palace more imperial? we may say, the very audience-
chamber of the King of kings. Besides, if he had a vocation,
what curse might not follow despising it ? Happy for those
whose vocation is so clear that they dare not disobey it;
or whose hearts are so pure that they would not if they
dared 1
These two days the university has been in a ferment at the
disappearance of Martin Luther. Many are indignant with
him, and more with the monks, who, they say, have taken ad-
vantage of a fervent impulse, and drawn him into their net.
Some, however, especially those of the school of Mutianus
the Humanists ^laugh, and say there are ways through the
cloister to the court, ^and even to the tiara. But those mis\in-
derstand Martin. We who know him are only too sure that he
will be a true monk, and that for him there is no gate from the
cloister back into the world.
Friedrich's Story, 75
It appears now that he had been meditating this step more
than a fortnight
On the first of this month (July) he was walking on the road
between Erfurt and Stotterheim, when a thunder-storm which
had been gathering over the Thuringian forest, and weighing
with heavy silence on the plague-laden air, suddenly burst over
his head. He was alone, and far from shelter. Peal followed
peal, succeeded by terrible silences; the forked lightning danced
wildly around him, imtil at length one terrific flash tore up the
ground at his feet, and nearly stunned him. He was alone,
and far from shelter; he felt his soul equally alone and un-
sheltered. The thimder seemed to him the angry voice of an
irresistible, offended God. The next flash might wither his
body to ashes, and smite his soul into the flames it so terribly
recalled ; and the next thunder-peal which followed might echo
like the trumpet of doom over him lying unconscious, deaf, and
mute in death. Unconscious and mute as to his body! but
who could imagine to what terrible intensity of conscious, ever-
lasting anguish his soul might have awakened ; what wailings
might echo around his lost spirit, what cries of unavailing en-
treaty he might be pouring forth? Unavailing then 1 not, per-
haps wholly unavailing now 1 He fell on his knees, ^he pros-
trated himself on the earth, and cried in his anguish and terror,
"Help, beloved St Anne, and I will straightway become a
monk."
The storm rolled slowly away; but the irrevocable words had
been spoken, and the peals of thunder, as they rumbled more
and more faintly in the distance, echoed on his heart like the
dirge of all his worldly life.
He reached Erfurt in safety, and, distrustful of his own stead-
fastness, breathed nothing of his purpose except to those who
would, he thought, sustain him in it This was no doubt the
cause of his absent and estranged looks, and of his avoiding us
during that fortnight
He confided his intention first to Andrew Staffelstein, the
rector of the university, who applauded and encouraged him,
and took him at once to the new Franciscan cloister. The
monks received him with delight, and urged his immediately
76 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family,
joining their order. He told them he must first acquaint his
father of his purpose, as an act of confidence only due to a
parent who had denied himself so much and toiled so hard to
maintain his son liberally at the university. But the rector and
the monks rejoined that he must not consult with flesh and
blood ; he must "forsake -father and mother, and steal away to
the cross of Christ." "Whoso putteth his hand to the plough
and looketh back," said they, "is not worthy of the kingdom of
God." To remain in the world was peril. To return to it was
perdition.
A few religious women to whom the rector mentioned Mar-
tin's intentions, confirmed him in them with fervent words of
admiration and encouragement
Did not one of them relent, and take pity on his mother and
his father 1 And yet, I doubt if Martin's mother would have
interposed one word of remonstrance between him and the
cloister. She is a very religious woman. To offer her son, her
pride, to God, would have been offering the dearest part of
herself; and women have a strength in self-sacrifice, and a mysteri-
ous joy, which I feel no doubt would have carried her through.
With Martin's father it would no doubt have been different
He has not a good opinion of the monks, and he has a veiy
strong sense of paternal and filial duty. He, the shrewd, hard-
working, successful peasant, looks on the monks as a company
of drones, who, in imagining they are giving up the delights of
the world, are often only giving up its duties. He was content
to go through any self-denial and toil that Martin, the pride of
the whole family, might have scope to develop his abilities. But
to have the fruit of all his counsel, and care, and work buried
in a convent, will be very bitter to him. It was terrible advice
for the rector to give a son. And yet, no doubt, God has the
first claim; and to expose Martin to any influence which might
have induced him to give up his vocation, would have been
perilous indeed. No doubt the conflict in Martin's heart was
severe enough as it was. His nature is so affectionate, his
sense of filial duty so strong, and his honour and love for his
parents so deep. Since the step is taken. Holy Maiy aid him
not to draw back !
Friedrich's Story. 77
December, 2505.
This morning I saw a sight I never thought to have seen.
A monk, in the grey frock and cowl of the Augustinians, was
pacing slowly through the streets with a heavy sack on his
shoulders. The ground was covered with snow, his feet were
bare; but it was no unfrequent sight, and I was idly and half-
unconsciously watching him pause at door after door, and
humbly receiving any contributions that were offered, stow them
away in the convent-sack, when at length he stopped at the
door of the house I was in, and then, as his face turned up
towards the window where I stood, I caught the eye of Martin
Luther 1
I hurried to the door with a loaf in my hand, and, before
oflGering it to him, would have embraced him as of old; but he
bowed low as he received the bread, until his forehead nearly
touched the ground, and, murmuring a Latin " Gratias," would
have passed on.
" Martin," I said, " do you not know me 1"
"I am on the service of the convent," he said. "It is against
the rules to converse or to linger,"
It was hard to let him go without another word^
" God and the saints help thee. Brother Martin ! " I
said.
He half turned, crossed himself, bowed low once more, as a
maid-servant threw him some broken meat, said meekly, " God
be praised for every gift he bestoweth," and ^ent on his toil-
some quest for alms with stooping form and downcast eyes.
But how changed his face was ! The flush of youth and health
quite faded from the thin, hollow cheeks; the fire of wit and
fancy all dimmed in the red, sunken eyes ! Fire there is indeed
in them still, but it seemed to me of the kind that consumes
not that warms and cheers.
They are surely harsh to him at the convent To send him
who was the pride and ornament of the university not six
months ago, begging from door to door, at the houses of fiiends
and pupils, with whom he may not even exchange a greeting !
Is there no pleasure to the obscure and ignorant monks in thus
humbling one who was so lately so far above themi The hands
yS Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
which wield such rods need to^ be guided by hearts that are
very noble or very tender. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that
Brother Martin inflicts severer discipline on himself than any
that can be laid on him from without It is no external con-
flict that has thus worn and bowed him down in less than half
a year.
I fear he will impose some severe mortification on himself
for having spoken those few words to which I tempted
him.
But if it is his vocation, and if it is for heaven, and if he is
thereby earning merits to bestow on others, any conflict could
no doubt be endured !
ynly, 1506.
Brother Martin's novitiate has expired, and he has taken the
name of Augustine, but we shall scarcely learn to call him by
it. Several of us were present a few days since at his taking
the final vows in the Augustinian Church. Once more we
heard the clear, pleasant voice which most of us had heard, in
song and animated conversation, on that farewell evening. It
sounded weak and thin, no doubt with fasting. The garb of
the novice was laid aside, the monk's frock was put on, and
kneeling below the altar steps, with the prior's hands on his
bowed head, he took the vow in Latin :
"I, Brother Martin, do make profession and promise
obedience unto Almighty God, unto Mary, ever virgin, and
unto thee, my brother, prior of this cloister, in the name and in
the stead of the general prior of the order of the Eremites of St
Augustine, the bishop and his regular successors, to live in
poverty and chastity after the rule of the said St Augustine
until death."
Then the burning taper, symbol of the lighted and ever-
vigilant heart, was placed in his hand. The prior murmured a
prayer over him, and instantly from the whole of the monks
burst the hymn, " Veni Sancte Spiritus."
He knelt while they were singing; and then the monks led
him up the steps into the choir, and welcomed him with the kiss
of brotherhood.
Within the screen, within the choir, among the holy brother-
Friedrich^s Story, 79
hood inside, who minister before the altar ! And we, his old
friends, left outside in the nave, separated from him for ever by
the screen of that irrevocable vow !
For ever 1 Is it for ever] Will there indeed be such a veil,
an impenetrable barrier, between us and him at the judgment-
day 1 And we outside % A barrier impassable for ever then,
but not now, not yet !
yanyaryt 1507.
I have just returned from another Christmas at home. Things
look a little brighter there. This last year, since I took my
masters degree, I have been able to help them a little more
effectually with the money I receive from my pupils. It was a
delight to take our dear, self-denying, loving Elsfe a new dress
for holidays, although she protested her old crimson petticoat
and black jacket were as good as ever. The child Eva has still
that deep, calm, earnest look in her eyes, as if she saw into the
world of things unseen and eternal, and saw there what filled
her heart with joy. I suppose it is that angelic depth of her
eyes, in contrast with the guileless, rosy smile of the childlike
lips, which gives the strange charm to her face, and makes one
think of the pictures of the child-angels.
She can read the Church Latin now easily, and delights
especially in the old hymns. When she repeats them in that
soft, reverent, childish voice, they seem to me deeper and more
sacred than when sung by the fiillest choir. Her great favourite
is St Bernard's "Jesu Dulcis Memoria," and his "Salve Caput
Cruentatum;" but some verses of the "Dies Irae" also are very
often on her lips. I used to hear her warbling softly about the
house, or at her work, with a voice like a happy dove hidden in
the depths of some quiet wood,
u
Querens me sedisti lassus,'
or
Jesu mi dulcissime, Domine ccelonun,
Conditor omnipotens, Rex miiversorum ;
Quis jam actiis sufficit mirari gestorom,
Quse te ferre compulit salus miserorum.
Te de coelo caritas traxit animaruni,
Pro quibus palatium deserens prscclanmi ;
8o Chronicles of the Schbnberg-Coita Family,
Misenun ingrediens vallem lacrymanim.
Opus dunun suscipis, et iter amanim.*
The sonorous words of the ancient imperial language sound
so sweet and strange, and yet so familiar from the fresh childish
voice. Latin seems from her lips no more a dead language.
It is as if she had learned it naturally in infancy from listening
to the songs of the angels who watched her in her sleep, or
from the lips of a sdnted mother bending over her pillow from
heaven.
One thing, however, seems to disappoint little Eva. She has
ti sentence taken from a book her fadier left her before he died,
but which she was never allowed to see afterwards. She is
always hoping to find the book in which this sentence was, and
has not yet succeeded.
I have little doubt myself that the book was some heretical
volume belonging to her father, who was executed for being a
Hussite. It is to be hoped, therefore, she will never find it
She did not tell me this herself, probably because Elsfe, to whom
she mentioned it, discouraged her in such a search. We all
feel it is a great blessing to have rescued that innocent heart
from the snares of those pernicious heretics, against whom our
Saxon nation made such a noble struggle. There are not very
many of the Hussites left now in Bohemia. As a national party
they are indeed destroyed, since the Calixtines separated from
them. There are, however, still a few dragging out a miserable
existence among the forests and mountains; and it is reported
that these opinions have not yet even been quite crushed in the
cities, in spite of the vigorous measures used against them, but
that not a few secretly cling to their tenets, although outwardly
conforming to the Church. So inveterate is the poison of
heresy, and so great the danger from which little Eva has been
rescued.
* " Jesu, Sovereign Lord of heaven, sweetest Friend to me.
King of all the universe, all was made by thee ;
Who can know or comprehend the wonders thou hast wrought.
Since the saving of the lost thee so low hath brought?
Thee the love of souls drew down from beyond the sky,
Drew thee from thy glorious home, thy palace bright and high I
To this narrow vale of tears thou thy footsteps bendest :
Hard the work thou tak'st on thee, rough the way thou wendest."
FrtedriMs Story,. 8i
Erfurt, May a, 1507.
To-day once more the seclusion and silence which have
enveloped Martin Luther since he entered the cloister have been
brojcen^ This day he has been consecrated priest, ^d has
celebrated his first mass. There was a great feast at the
Augustinian convent; offerings poured in abundance into the
convent treasury, and Martin's father, John Luther, came from
Mansfeld to be present at the ceremony. He is reconciled at
last to his son (whom for a long time he refused to see) ; al-
thocugh not, I believe, to his monastic profession. It is cer-
tainly no willing sacrifice on the father's part. And no wonder.
After toiling for years to place hi? favourite son in a position
^where his great abilities might have scope, it must have been
hard to see ever3rthing thrown away just as success was attained,
for what seemed to him st wilful, superstitious fancy. And
-without a word of dutiful consultation to prepare him for the
blowt
Having, however, at last made up his mind to forgive his
son, he forgave him like a father, and came in pomp with
precious gifts t6 do him honour. He rode to the convent gate
with an escort of twenty horsemen, and gave his son a present
'of twenty florins.
Brother Martin was so cheered by the reconciliation, that at
the ordination feast he ventured to try to obtain from his father
not only pardon, but sanction and approval. It was of the
deepest interest to me to hear his familiar eloquent voice again,
pleading for his father's approval. But he failed. In vain he
stated in his own fervent words the motives that had led to his
vow ; in vain did the monks around support and applaud all he
Baid. The old man was not to be moved.
"Dear father," said Martin, "what was the reason of thy
objecting to my choice to become a monk 1 Why wert thou
-then so displeased, and perhaps art not reconciled yet % It is
such a peaceful and godly life to live."
I cannot say that Brother Martin's worn and furrowed face
spoke much for the peacefulness of his life ; but Master John
Luther boldly replied in a voice that all at the table might
hear,
6
82 Chronicles of the ScJionberg-Cotta Family.
*^ Didst thou never hear that a son must be obedient to his
. parents 1 And, you learned men, did you never read the Scrip-
tures, 'Thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother)' God
grant that those signs you speak of may not prove to be lying
wonders of Satan."
Brother Martin attempted no defence. A look of sharp pain
came over his face, as if an arrow had pierced his heart; but he
remained quite silent.
Yet he is a priest ; he is endued with a power never com-
mitted even to the holy angels to transubstantiate bread into
God to sacrifice for the living and the dead.
He is admitted into the inner circle of the court of heaven.
He is on board that sacred ark which once he saw portrayed
at Magdeburg, where priests and monks sail safely amidst a
drowning world. And what is more, he himself may, from his
safe and sacred vessel, stoop down and rescue perishing men;
perhaps confer unspeakable blessings on the soul of that v^
father whose words so wounded him.
For such ends well may he bear that the arrow should pierce
his heart. Did not a sword pierce thine, O mournful modier of
consolations ?
And he is certain of his vocation. He does not think as we
in the world so often must, ** Is God leading me, or the devil 1
Am I resisting His higher calling in only obeying the humbler
call of everyday duty ) Am I bringing down blessings on those
I love, or curses V*
Brother Martin, without question, has none of these distract-
ing doubts. He may well bear any other anguish which may
meet him in the ways of God, and because he has chosen them.
At least he has not to listen to such tales as I have heard lately
from a young knight, Ulrich von Hutten, who is stud3dng here
at present, and has things to relate of the monks, priests, and
bishops in Rome itself which tempt one to think all invisible
things a delusion, and all religion a pretence.
V,
(ffiEe's Cferonitlf.
Eisenach, JoHtiaiy isza
|E have passed through a terrible time ; if, indeed, we
are through it !
The plague has been at Eisenach; and, alas! is
here still.
Fritz came home to as as usual at Christmas. Just before
he left Erfurt the plague had broken out in the University.
But he did not know it When first he came to us he seemed
q^ite well, and was full of spirits \ but on the second day he
complained of cold and shivering, with pain in the head,
which increased towards the evening. His eyes then began to
have a fixed, dim look, and he seemed unable to speak or think
long connectedly.
I noticed that the mother watched him anxiously that even-
ing ; and at its close, feeling his hands feverish, she said very
quietly that she should sit up in his room that night At first
he made some resistance, but he seemed too faint to insist on
anything ; and, as he rose to go to bed, he tottered a little,
and said he felt giddy, so that my mother drew his arm within
hers and supported him to his room.
Still I did not feel anxious ; but when Eva and I reached
our room, she said, in that quiet, convincing manner which she
had even as a child, fixing her large eyes on mine,
" Cousin Elsb, Fritz is very ill."
" I think not, Eva," I said ; '' and no one would feel anxious
about him as soon as I should. He caught a chill on his way
from Erfurt. You know it was late when he arrived, and snow-
ing fast, and he was so pleased to see us, and so eager in con-
84 Chronicles of the Sckonberg^Cotta Family.
versation that he would not change his things. It is only a s%ht
feverish cold Besides, our mother's manner was so calm when she
wished us good night I do not think she is anxious. She is
only sitting up with him for an hour or two to see that he sleeps."
" Cousin Elsfe," replied Eva, " did you not see the mother's
lip quiver when she turned to wish us good night T
" No, Eva," said I ; " I was looking at Fritz."
And so we went to bed. But I thought it strange that Eva,
a girl of sixteen, should be more anxious than I was, and I his
sister. Hope is generally so strong, and fear so weak, before
one has seen many fears realized, and many hopes disap-
pointed. Eva, however, had always a way of seeing into tiie
truth of things. I was very tired with the day's work (for I
always rise earlier than usual when Fritz is here, to get every-
thing done before he is about), and I must very spon have
fallen asleep. It was not midnight when I was roused by the
mothei^s touch upon my arm.
The light of the lamp she held showed me a paleness in her
face and an alarm in her eyes which a,woke qie thoroughly in
an instant
'^ Els^," she said, '' go into the boys' room and send Chris-
topher for a physician. I cannot leave Fritz. But do not
alarm your father !" she added, as she crept again out of the
room after lighting our lamp.
I called Christopher, and in five minutes he was dressed and
out of the house. When I returned to our room Eva was
fitting dressed on the bed. She had not been asleep, I saw. I
think she had been praying, for she held the crucifix in her clasped
hands, and there were traces of tears on her cheek, although,
when she raised her eyes to me, they were clear and tearless.
" What is it. Cousin Elsfe 1" she said. When I went for a
moment to the door of his room he was talking. It was his voice,
but with such a strange, wild tone in it I think he heard my
step, although I thought no one would, I stepped so softly, for he
:called ^ Eva, Eva !' but the mother came to the door and silently
motioned me away. But you may go, Els^," she added, with a
passionate rapidity very unusual with her. '^ Go and see him."
I went instantly. He was talking very rapidly and vehe
Elsi's Story. 8 J
inently, and in an incoherent way it was difficult to under*
stand. My mother sat quite stiU, holding his hand. His eyea
were not bright as in fever, but dim and fixed. Yet he was in?
a ra^ng fever. His hand, when I touched it, burned like fire,
and his face was flushed crimson. I stood diere quite silently
beside my mother until the physician came. At first Fritz'a
eyes followed me ; then they seemed watching the door for
some oxxt else ; but in a few minutes the dull vacancy came
over them again, and he seemed conscious of nothing.
At last the physician came. He paused a jnoment at the
door, and held a \xi% of m}Trh before him ; then advancing tQ
the bed, he drew aside the clothes and looked at Fritz's arm. ^
" Too plain I" he exclaimed, starting back as he perceived a
black swelling there. " It is the plaguei'r
My mother followed him to the door.
"Excuse me, madam," he said; "life is precious, and
might carry the infection into the city."
" Can nothing be done T she said.
" Not much 1" he said bluntly ; and then, after a moment's
hesitation, touched by the distress in her face, he returned to
the bedside. "I have touched him," he murmured, as if
apologizing to himself for incurring the risk ; " the mischief is
done, doubtless, already." And taking out his lancet he bled
my brother's arm.
Then, after binding up the arm, he turned to me and said,- f
" Get cypress and juniper wood, and bum them in a brazier
in this room,' with rosin and myrrh. Keep your brother asf
warm as possible do not let in a breath of air ! And," he
added, as I followed him to the door, " on no account suffer
him to sleep for a mxment,* and let no one come near him but
you and your mother."
When I returned to the bedside, after obeying these direc*
tions, Fritz's mind was wandering; and although we could
understand little that he said, he was evidently in great distress^
He seemed to have comprehended the physician's words, for
he frequently repeated, " The plague ! the plague ! I: have
brought ^ curse upon my house!" and then he wodd wander,
* An approved method of treatment of the plague 4n those tunef .' ^
86 Chronicles of the Schimberg-Cotta Family.
strangely calling on Martin Luther and Eva to intercede and
obtain pardon for him, as if he were invoking saints in heaven ;
and occasionally he would repeat fragments of Latin h)rmns.
It was dreadful to have to keep him awake ; to have to rouse
him^ whenever he showed the least symptom of slumber, to
thoughts which so perplexed and troubled his poor brain. But
on the second night the mother fainted away, and I had to
carry her to her room. Her dear thin frame was no heavy
weight to bear. I laid her on the bed in our room, which
was the nearest Eva appeared at the door as I stood beside
our mother. Her face was as pale as death. Before I could
prevent it, she came up to me, and taking my hands said,
" Cousin Elsfe, only promise me one thing ; ^if he is to' die,
let me see him once mdre."
" I dare not promise anything, Eva," I said ; " consider the
infection !"
" What will the infection matter to me if he dies T she said ;
" I am not afraid to die."
" Think of the father and the children, Eva," I said ; " if
our mother and I should be seized next, what would they do T
'* Chriemhild will soon be old enough to take care of them,"
she said very calmly ; " promise me, promise me, Elsfe, or I
will see him at once."
And I promised her, and she threw her arms around me,
and kissed me. Then I went back to Fritz, leaving Eva chafing
my mother^s hands. It was of no avail, I thought, to try to
keep her from contagion, now that she had held my hands in
hers.
When I came again to Fritz's bedside he was asleep 1 Bit-
terly I reproached myself; but what could I have done) He
was asleep sleeping quietly, with soft even breathing. I had
not courage to awake him ; but I knelt down and implored the
blessed Viigin and all the saints to have mercy on me and
spare him. And they must have heard me ; for, in spite of my
failure in keeping the ph3rsician's orders, Fritz began to recover
from that very sleep.
Our grandmother says it was a miracle ; " unless," she added,
" the doctor was wrong !"
Elsi's Story, 87
He awoke from that sleep refreshed and calm, but weak as
an infant
It was delightful to meet his eyes when first he awoke, with
the look of quiet recognition in them, instead of that wild,
fixed stare, or that restless wandering ;. to look once more into
his heart through his eyes. He looked, at me a long time with
a quiet content, without speaking, and then he said, holding
out his hand to me,
"Els^, you have been watching long here. You look tired j
go and rest"
"It rests me best to look at you," I said, "and see you
better."
He seemed too weak to persist, and after taking some food
and cooling drinks, he fell asleep again, and so did I; for the
next thing. I was conscious of was our mother gently placing a
pillow underneath my head, which had sunk on the bed where
I had been kneeling, watching Fritz. I was ashamed of being
such a bad nurse ; but our mother insisted on my going to oui^
room to seek rest and refreshment. And for the next few days
we took it in turns to sit beside him, until he began to regain
strength. Then we thought he might Hke to see Eva; but
when she came to the door, he eagerly motioned her away, and
said,
" Do not let her venture near me. Think if I were to bring
this judgment of God on her !"
Eva turned away, and was out of sight in an instant ; but
the troubled, perplexed expression came back into my brother's
eyes, and the feverish flush into his face, and it was long before
he seemed calm again.
I followed Eva. She was sitting with clasped hands in our
room.
" Oh, Elsb," she S2ud, " how altered he is ! Are you sure he
will live, even now 1"
I tried to comfort her with the hope which was naturally so
much stronger in me, because I had seen him in the depths from
which he was now slowly rising again to life. But something
in that glimpse of him seemed to weigh on her very life ; and
as Fitz recovered, Eva. seemed to grow paler and weaker, until
||8 Chronicles of the Schoaberg^Cotta Family.
t)ie tiune feverish symptoms came over her which we had beahted
s0 to dread} and then the terrible tokens, the plague-spots^
which could not be doubted, appeared on the fair, soft arms,
and Eva wai lying with those dim, fixed, pestilence-veiled eyes,
aqd the wandering brain.
T'or a day we were able to conceal it from Fritz, but no
longer.
On the second evenipg aiter Eva was stricken, I found him
standing by the window of his room, looking into the street
I shall never forget the expression of horror in his eyes as he
turned from the window to me.
* Elsfe," he said, " how long have those fires been burning id
th streets V
" For a week," I said. " They are fires of cypress-wood and
juniper, and myrrh and pine gums. The physicians say they
purify the air."
* I know too well what they are," he said. " And, Elsfe," he
si^id, " why is Master Biirer's house opposite closed T
*' He has lost two children," I said.
'^And why are those other windows closed all down the
street V he rejoined.
" The people have left, brother," I said ; " but the doctors
Jjope the worst is over now."
" O just God r he exclaimed, sinking on a chair and cover-
ing his face ; " I was flying from thee, and I have brought the
purse Qn my people l"
Then, after a minute's pause, before I could think of any word^
to comfort him, he looked up, and suddenly demanded,
" Who are dead in /his house, Elsfe 1"
" None, none," I said,
" Who are stricken ]" he asked.
" All the children and the father are well," I said, '' and the
motlier."
" Then Eva is stricken 1" he exclaimed " the innocent for
thft guilty 1 She will die and be a saint in heaven, and I, who
])avft murdered her, shall live, and shall see her no more, for
$Y9X and for ever." ,
I could not comfort him. The strength of (lis agony utterlK
Elsies Story. Sgr'
stunned me. I could only burst into tears, so that he had to
try to comfort me. But he did not speak ; he only took my
hands in his kindly, as of old, without saying another word*^
At length I said
" It is not you who brought the plague, dear Fritz ; it is God
who sent it!"
" I know it is God!" he replied, with such an intense bitter-
ness in his tone that I did not attempt another sentence.
That night Eva wandered much as I watched beside her; but-
her delirium was quite different from that of Fritz. Her spirit
seemed floating away on a quiet stream into some happy land
we could not see. She spoke of a palace, of a home, of
fields of fragrant lilies, of white-robed saints walking among
them with harps and songs, and of One who welcomed her.
Occasionally, too, she murmm-ed snatches of the same Latin
h3rmns that Fritz had repeated in his delirium, but in a tone so
different, so child-like and happy 1 If ever she appeared
troubled, it was when she seemed to miss some one, and be
searching here and there for them ; but then she often ended
with, " Yes, I know they will come j I must wait till they
come." And so at last she fell asleep, as if the thought had
quieted her.
I could not hinder her sleeping, whatever the physician said;
she looked so placid, and had such a happy smile on her lips.
Only once, when she had lain thus an hour quite still, while
her chest seemed scarcely to heave with her soft, tranquil
breathing, I grew alarmed lest she should glide thus from us
into the arms of the holy angels; and I whispered softly, " Eva,
dear Eva!"
Her lips parted slightly, and she murmured '
*^ Not yet; wait till they can come."
And then she turned her head again on the pillow, and
slept on.
She awoke quite collected and calm, and then she saidquietly^-^
' Where is the motherl"
" She is resting, darling Eva."
^ She gave a little contented smile, and then, in broken words
at intervals, she said ,1
90 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
'' Now, I should like to see Fritz. You promised I should
see him again; and now, if I die, I think he would like to see
me once more."
I went to fetch my brother. He was pacing up and down
his room, with the crucifix clasped to his breast At first, to
my surprise, he seemed very reluctant to come; but when I
said how much she wished it, he followed me quite meekly into
her room. va was resuming her old command over us all.
She held out her hand, with a look of such peace and rest on
her face.
'' Cousin Fritz," she said at intervals, as she had strength,
''you have taught me so many things; you have done so much
for me I Now I wish you to learn my sentence, that if I go, it
may make you happy, as it does me." Then very slowly and dis-
tinctly she repeated the words " * God so lov&i the worlds that
he gave his only SonJ Cousin Fritz," she added, " I do not
know the end of the sentence. I have not been able to find
it; but you must find it. I am sure it comes fi'om a good book,
it makes me love God so much to think of it Promise me you
will find it, if I should die."
He promised, and she was quite satisfied. Her strength
seemed exhausted, and in a few moments, with my arms round
her as I sat beside her, and with her hand in Fritz's, she fell
into a deep, quiet sleep.
I felt from that time she would not die, and I whispered very
softly to Fritz
''She will not die; she will recover, and you will not have
killed her; you will have saved her!"
But when I looked into his face, expecting to meet a thankful,
happy response, I was appalled by the expression there.
He stood immovable, not venturing to withdraw his hand,
but with a rigid, hopeless look in his worn, pale face, which
contrasted terribly with the smile of deep repose on the sleeping
face on which his eyes were fixed.
And so he remained until she awoke, when his whole coun-
tenance changed for an instant to return her smile.
Then he said softly, " God bless you, Eva I" and pressing her
hand to his lips, he left the room.
Elsk's Story, 91
When I saw him again that day, I said
^* Fritz, you saved Eva's life ! She rallied from the time she
saw you."
" Yes," he replied, very gently, but with a strange impassive-
ness in his face; " I think that may be true. I have saved her."
But he did not go into her room again; and the next day, to
our surprise and disappointment, he said suddenly that he must
leave us.
He said few words of farewell to any of us, and would not see
Eva to take leave of her. He said it might disturb her.
But when he kissed me before he went, his hands and his
lips were as cold as death. Yet as I watched him go down the
street, he did not once turn to wave a last good-bye, as he
always used to do; but slowly and steadily he went on till he
was out of sight
I turned back into the house with a very heavy heart; but
when I went to tell Eva Fritz was gone, and tried to account
for his not coming to take leave of her, because I thought it
would give her pain (and it does seem to me rather strange of
Fritz), she looked up with her quiet, trustful, contented smile,
and said
" I am not at all pained. Cousin Elsb. I know Fritz had
good reasons for it^ some good, kind reasons ^because he
always has; and we shall see him again as soon as he feels it
right to come."
VI.
St. SbbastiaNi Erpuxt, ytmmary 90 151a
[HE irrevocable step is taken. I have entered the
Augustinian cloister. I write in Martin Luther's cell
Truly I have forsaken father and mother, and all that
was dearest to me, to take refuge at the foot of the cross. I
have sacrificed everything on earth to my vocation, and yet the
conflict is not over. I seem scarcely more certain of my voca-
tion now than while I remained in the world. Doubts buzz
around me like wasps, and sting me on every side. The devil,
transforming himself into an angel of light, perplexes me with
the very words of Scripture. The words of Martin Luther's
father recur to me, as if spoken by a divine voice. " Honour
thy father and thy mother!" echoes back to me from the chants
of the choir, and seems written ever3nvhere on the white walls
of my cell.
And, besides the thunder of these words of God, tender
voices seem to call me back by every plea of duty, not to aban-
don them to fight the battle of life alone. Elsb calls me from
the old lumber-room, " Fritz ! brother ! who is to tell me now
what to dol" My mother does not call me back; but I seem
ever to see her tearful eyes, full of reproach and wonder which
she tries to repress, lifted up to heaven for strength; and her
worn, pale face, growing more wan every day. In one voice
and one face only I seem never to hear or see reproach or recall;
and yet. Heaven forgive me, those pure and saintly eyes which
seem only to say, " Go on. Cousin Fritz, God will help thee,
and I will pray!" those sweet, trustful, heavenly eyes, draw
me back to the world with more power than anything else.
Friedrich^s Story, 93
. I9 it, then, tod latel Have I lingered in the world so long
that my heart can never more be torn from it? Is this the
punishment of my guilty hesitation, that, though I have given
my body to the cloister, God will not have my soul, which ever-
rmore must hover like a lost spirit about the scenes it was too
-reluqtant to leave] Shall I evermore, when I lift my eyes to
heaven, see all that is pure and saintly there embodied for me
in a face which it is deadly sin for me to remember?
Yet I have saved her life ! If I brought the curse on my
people by my sin, was not my obedience accepted? From the
hour when, in my room alone, after hearing that Eva was
:stncken, I prostrated myself, before God, and not daring to
take His insulted name on my lips, approached him through
His martyred saint, and said, " Holy Sebastian, by the arrows
which pierced thy heart, ward off the arrows of pestilence from
my home, and I will become a monk, and* change mj own
guilty name for thine," ^from that moment did not Eva begin
to recover, and from that time were not all my kindred un-
scathed? *^ Cadent a latere tuo mille, et decem millia a dextris
tuis; ad te autem non approprinquabit" Were not the words
literally fulfilled; and while many still fell around us, was one
afterwards stricken in my home?
Holy Sebastian, infallible protector against pestilence, by thy
firmness when accused, confirm my wavering will; by thy double
death, save me from the second death; by the arrows which
could not slay thee, thou hast saved us from the arrow that
flieth by day; by the cruel blows which sent thy spirit from the
circus to paradise, strengthen me against the blows of Satan;
by thy body rescued from ignominious sepulture and laid in the
catacombs among the martyrs, raise me from the filth of sin;
by thy generous pleading for thy fellow-sufferers amidst thine
own agonies, help me to plead for those who suffer with me;
and by all thy sorrows, and merits, and joys, plead oh plead
/or me, who henceforth bear thy name 1
St. Scholastica, February xo.
I have been a month in the monastery. Yesterday my first
probation was over, and I was invested with the white garments
of the novitiate.
94 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
The whole of the brotherhood were assembled in the diurdi,
when, kneeling before the prior, he asked me solemnly whether
I thought my strength sufficient for the burden I purposed to
take on myself.
In a low, grave voice, he reminded me what those burdens
are the rough plain clothing; the abstemious living; the
broken rest and long vigils; the toils in the service of the order;
the reproach and poverty; the humiliations of the mendicant;
and, above all, the renunciation of self-will and individual glory,
to be a member of the order, bound to do whatever the supe-
riors command, and to go whithersoever they direct
" With God for my help," I could venture to say, " of this
will I make trial"
Then the prior replied,
"We receive thee, therefore, on probation for one year; and
may God, who has begun a good work in thee, carry it on unto
perfection."
The whole brotherhood responded in a deep amen, and then
all the voices joined in the hymn,
" Magna Pater Augustine, preces nostras susdpe,
Et per eas conditOri nos placare satage,
Atque rege gregem tuum, summum decus prssulmn.
Amatorein paupertatis, te coUaudant pauperes;
Assertorem veritatis amant veri judices ;
Frangis nobis favos mellis de Scripturis disserens.
Quae obsciura prius erant nobis plana faciens,
Tu de verbis Salvatoris dulcem panem confids,
t propinas potum vitae de psalmorum nectare.
Tu de vita clericorum sanctam scribis regulam,
Qiuun qui amant et sequuntiur viam tenent regiam,
Atque tuo sancto ductu redeunt ad patriam.
Regi regum salus, vita, decus et emi)erium:
Trinitati laus et honor sit per omne saeculum,
Qui concives nos ascribat supemorum civium."*
As the sacred words were chanted, they mingled strangely in
my mind with the ceremonies of the investiture. My hair was
shorn with the clerical tonsure; my secular dress was laid aside;
* " Great Father Augustine, receive our prayers,
And through them effectually reconcile die Creator;
And rule thy flock, the highest glory of rulers.
Friedrich's Story, 95
the garments of the novice were thrown on; and I was girded
with the girdle of rope, whilst the prior murmured softly to me,
that with the new robes I must put on the new man.
Then, as the last notes of the hymn died away, I knelt and
bowed low to receive the prior's blessing, invoked in these
words :
'' May God, who hath converted this young man from the
world, and given him a mansion in heaven, grant that his daily
walk may be as becometh his calling ; and that he may have
cause to be thankful for what has this day been done."
Versicles were then chanted responsively by the monks, who,
forming in procession, moved towards the choir, where we all
prostrated ourselves in silent prayer.
After this they conducted me to the great hall of the cloister,
where all the brotherhood bestowed on me the kiss of peace.
Once more I knelt before the prior, who reminded me that
he who persevereth to the end shall be saved; and gave me
over to the direction of the preceptor, whom the new Vicar-
General Staupitz has ordered to be appointed to each novice.
Thus the first great ceremony of my monastic life is over,
and it has left me with a feeling of blank and disappointment
It has made no change that I can feel in my heart It has not
removed the world further off from me. It has only raised
another impassable barrier between me and all that was dearest
to me; ^impassable as an ocean without ships, infrangible as
the strongest iron, I am determined my wUl shall make it; but
The poor praise thee, lover of poverty;
True judges love thee, defender of truth ;
Breaking the honeycomb of the honey of Scripturei^ thou distributest
it to us.
Making smooth to us what before was obscure ;
Thou, from the words of the Saviour, fumishest us with wholesome
bread,
And givest to drink draughts of life from the nectar of the psalms.
Thou writest the holy rule for the life of priests.
Which, whosoever love and follow, keep the royal road.
And by thy holy leading return to their fatherland.
Salvation to the King of kings, life, glory, and dominion ;
Honour and praise be to the Trinity throughout all ages,
To Him who declareth us to be fellow-dtizens with the citizens of
heaven."
96 Chronicles of the Sckonberg-Cotta Family.
to my heart J alas! thin as gossamer, since every faintest, wistiiil
tone of love, which echoes from the past, can penetrate it and
pierce me with sorrow.
My preceptor is very strict in enforcing the rules of the order.
Trespasses against the rules are divided into four dasses,
small, great, greater, and greatest, to each of which is assigned
a different degree of penance. Among the smaller are, iaiiing
to go to church as soon as the sign is given, forgetting to touch
the ground instantly with the hand and to smite the breast, if in
reading in the choir or in singing the least error is committed.;
looking about during the service; omitting prostration at/the
Annunciation or at Christmas; neglecting the benediction. in
coming in or going out; failing to return books or garments, to
their proper places; dropping food; spilling drink; forgetting
to say grace before eating. Among the great trespasses are.:
contending, breaking the prescribed silence at fasts, and looking
at women, or speaking to thiem, except in brief replies.
The minute rules are countless. It is difficult at first .to
learn the various genuflexions, inclinations, and prostrations
The novices are never allowed to converse except in presence
of the prior, are forbidden to take any notice of visitors, are
enjoined to .walk with downcast eyes, to read the Scriptures
diligently, to bow low in receiving every gift, and say, " The
Lord be praised in his gifts."
How Brother Martin, with his free, bold, daring nature, bore
those minute restrictions, I know not To me there is a kind
of dull, deadening relief in them, they distract my thoughts, or
prevent my thinking.
Yet it must be true, my obedience will aid my kindred more
than all my toil could ever have done whilst disobediently
remaining in the world. It is not a selfish seeking of my own
salvation and ease which has brought me here, whatever some
may think and say, as they did of Martin Luther. I think of
that ship in the picture at Magdeburg he so often told me of
Am I not in it, actually in it now ? and shall I not hereafter,
when my strength is recovered from the fatigue of reaching it,
hope to lean over and stretch out my arms to them, still strug-
gling in the waves of this bitter world? and save them!
FriedricKs Story. 97
Save them; yes, save their souls ! Did not my vow save
precious lives) And shall not my fastings, vigils, disciplines,
prayers be as effectual for their souls % And, then, hereafter, in
heaven, where those dwell who, in virgin purity, have followed
the Lamb, shall I not lean over the jasper-battlements and help
them from Puigatory up the steep sides of 'Paradise, and be
first at the gate to welcome them in ! And then, in Paradise,
where love will no longer be in danger of becoming sin, may
we not be together for ever and for everl And then, shall I
regret that I abandoned the brief polluted joys of earth for the
pure joys of eternity ? Shall I lament then that I chose, ac-
cording to my vocation, to suffer apart from them that their
souls might be saved, rather than to toil with them for the
perishing body ?
Then 1 then / I, a saint in the City of God ! I, a hesitating,
sinful novice in the Augustinian monastery at Erfurt, who,
after resisting for years, have at last yielded up my body to the
cioister, but have no more power than ever to yield up my
heart to God !
Yet I am in the sacred vessel ; the rest will surely follow.
Do all monks have such a conflict? No doubt the Devil fights
hard for every fresh victim he loses. It is, it must be, the
Devil who beckons me through those dear faces, who calls me
through those familiar voices; for they would nevet call me back.
They wonld hide their pain, and say, " Go to God, if he calls
thee; leave us and go to God." Elsb, my mother, all would say
that; if their hearts broke in trying to say it !
Had Martin Luther such thoughts in this very celH If they
are from the Evil One, I think he had, for his assaults are
strongest against the noblest; and yet I scarcely think he can
have had such weak doubts as those which haunt me. He was
not one of those who draw back to perdition; nor even of those
who, having put their hand to the plough, look back, as I, alas !
am so continually doing. And what does the Scripture say of
such ? ." They are not fit for the kingdom of God." No ex-
ception, no reserve ^monk, priest, saint; if a 102x1 look back, he
is not fit for the kingdom of God. Then what becomes of my
hopes of Paradise, or of acquiring merits which may aid others ?
7
98 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
Turn back, draw back, I will never, although all the devils were
to drive me, or all the world entice me; but look back, who can
help that 1 If a look can kill, what can save ? Mortification,
crucifixion, not for a day, but daily ; I must die daily; I must
be dead dead to the world. This cell must to me be as a
tomb, where all that was most living in my heart must die and
be buried. Was it so to Martin Luther 1 Is the cloister that
to those bands of rosy, comfortable monks, who drink beer
from great cans, and feast on the best of the land, and fast on
the choicest fish ? The Tempter ! the Tempter again ! Judge
not, and ye shall not be judged.
St. Eulalia, ErfurTj Ftbruary 13, 1510.
To-day one of the older monks came to me, seeing me, I
suppose, look downcast and sad, and said, " P ear not. Brother
Sebastian, the strife is often hard at first; but remember the
words of St Jerome : ' Though thy father should lie before thy
door weeping and lamenting, though thy mother should show
thee the body that bore thee, and the breasts that nursed thee,
see that thou trample them under foot, and go on straightway
to Christ' "
I bowed my head, according to rule, in acknowledgment of
his exhortation, and I suppose he thought his words comforted
and strengthened me; but Heaven knows the conflict they
awakened in my heart when I sat alone to-night in my cell
" Cruel, bitter, wicked words!" my earthly heart would say; my
sinful heart, that vigils, scourging, scarcely death itself, I fear,
can kill. Surely, at least, the holy father Jerome spoke of
heathen fathers and mothers. My mother would not show her
anguish to win me back; she would say, "My son, my first-
bom, God bless thee; I give thee freely up to God." Does
she not say so in this letter which I have in her handwriting,
which I have and dare not look at, because of the storm of
memories it brings rushing on my heart 1
Is there a word of reproach or remonstrance in her letter 1
If there were, I would read it ; it would strengthen me. The
saints had that to bear. It is because those holy, tender words
echo in my heart from a voice weak with feeble health, that
Friedrich's Story, 99
day by day, and hour by hour, my heart goes back to the home at
Eisenach, and sees them toiling unaided in the daily struggle for
bread, to which I have abandoned them, unsheltered and alone.
Then at times the thought comes, Am I, after all, a dreamer,
as I have sometimes ventured to think my father, neglecting
my plain daily task (or some Atlantis 1 and if my Atlantis is
in Paradise instead of beyond the ocean, does that make so
much difference ?
If Brother Martin were only here, he might understand and
help me ; but he has now been nearly two years at Wittemberg,
where he is, they say, to lecture on theology at the Elector's
new university, and to be preacher. The monks seem nearly
as proud of him as the University of Erfurt was.
Yet, perhaps, after all, he might not understand my per-
plexities. His nature was so firm and straightforward and
strong. He would probably have little s)anpathy with wavering
hearts and troubled consciences like mine.
March 7. SS. Perpetua and Fblicitas.
Erfurt, Augustinian Cloister.
To-day I have been out on my first quest for alms. It
seemed veiy strange at first to be begging at familiar doors,
with the firock and the convent sack on my shoulders; but
although I tottered a little at times under the weight as it grew
heavy (for the plague and fasting have left me weak), I returned
to the cloister feeling better and easier in mind, and more
hopeful as to my vocation, than I had done for some days.
Perhaps, however, the fresh air had something to do with it,
and, after all, it was only a littie bodily exultation. But cer-
tainly such bodily loads and outward mortifications are not the
burdens which weigh the spirit down. There seemed a luxury
in the half-scornful looks of some of my former fellow-students,
and in the contemptuous tossing to me of scraps of meat by
some grudging hands; just as a tight pressure^ which in itself
would be pain were we at ease, is relief to severe pain.
Perhaps, also, O holy Perpetua and Felicitas, whose day it is,
and especially thou, O holy Perpetua, who, after encouraging
thy sons to die for Christ,' wast martyred thyself, hast pleaded
100 Chronicles of the Schonberg-fotta Family.
for my forsaken mother and for me, and sendest me this day
some ray of hope.
St. Joseph. March 19.
AuGUSTiNiAN Cloister, Erfurt.
St Joseph, whom I have chosen to be one of the twenty-one
patrons whom I especially honour, hear and aid me to-day.
Thou whose glory it was to have no glory, but meekly to aid
others to win their higher crowns, give me also some humble
place on high; and not to me alone, but to those also whom I
have left still struggling in the stormy seas of this perilous world.
Here, in the sacred calm of the cloister, surely at length the
heart must grow calm, and cease to beat except with the life of
the universal Church, the feasts in the calendar becoming its
events. But when will that be to me 1
March 20.
Has Brother Martin attained this repose yet 1 An aged monk
sat with me in my cell yesterday, who told me strange tidings of
him, which have given me some kind of bitter comfort.
It seems that the monastic life did not at once bring repose
into his heart.
This aged monk was Brother Martin's confessor, and he has
also been given to me for mine. In his countenance there is
such a peace as I long for; not a still, death-like peace, as if
he had fallen into it after the conflict; but a living, kindly
peace, as if he had won it through the conflict, and enjoyed it
even while the conflict lasted.
It does not seem to me that Brother Martin's scruples and
doubts were exactly like mine. Indeed, my confessor says that
in all the years he has exercised his office he has never found
two troubled hearts troubled exactly alike.
I do not know that Brother Martin doubted his vocation, or
looked back to the world; but he seems to have suffered agonies
of inward torture. His conscience was so quick "and tender,
that the least sin wounded him as if it had been the grossest
crime. He invoked the saints most devoutly choosing, as I
have done from his example, twenty-one saints, and invoking
three every day, so as to honour each every week. He read
mass every day, and had an especial devotion for the blessed
FriedriMs Story, loi
Virgin. He wasted his body with fastings and watching. He
never intentionally violated the minutest rule of the order ; and
yet the more he strove, the more wretched he seemed to be.
Like a musician whose ear is cultivated to the highest degree,
the slightest discord was torture to hiiil. Can it then be God's
intention that the growth of our spiritual life is only growing sen-
sitiveness to paini Is this true growth? or is it that monstrous
development of one faculty at the expense of others, which is
deformity oi disease?
The confessor said thoughtfully, when I suggested this
" The world is out of tune, my son, and the heart is out of
tune. The more our souls vibrate truly to the music of heaven,
the more, perhaps, they must feel the discords of earth. At
least it was so with Brother Martin; until at last, omitting a
prostration or a genuflexion would weigh on his conscience like
a crime. Once, after missing him for some time, we went to
the door of his cell, and knocked. It was barred, and all our
knocking drew no response. We broke open the door at last,
and found him stretched senseless on the floor. We only suc-
ceeded in reviving him by strains of sacred music, chanted by
the choristers whom we brought to his cell. He always dearly
loved* music, and believed it to have a strange potency against
the wiles of the devil."
" He must have suffered grievously," I said. " I suppose it
is by such sufferings merit is acquired to aid others!"
" He did suff*er agonies of mind," replied the old monk.
" Often he would walk up and down, the cold corridors for nights
together."
" Did nothing comfort him?" I asked.
"Yes, my son; some words I once said to him comforted him
greatly. Once, when I found him in an agony of despondency
in his cell, I said, * Brother Martin, dost thou believe in " the
forgiveness of sins," as saith the Creed?* His face lighted up
at once."
"The forgiveness of sins!" I repeated slowly. "Father, I
also believe in that But forgiveness only follows on contrition^
confession, and penance. How can I ever be sure that I have
leen sufficiently contrite, that I have made an honest and
I02 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
complete confession, or that I have performed my penance
aright)
"Ah, my son," said the old man, " these were exactly Brother
Martin's perplexities, and I could only point him to the crucified
Lord, and remind him again of the forgiveness of sins. All we
do is incomplete, and when the blessed Lord says he forgiveth
sins, I suppose he means the sins of sinners^ who sin in their
confession as in everything else. My son. He is more compas-
sionate than you think, perhaps than any of us think. At least
this is my comfort; and if, when I stand before Him at last, I
find I have made a mistake, and thought Him more compas-
sionate than He is, I trust He will pardon me. It can scarcely,
I tliink, grieve Him so much as declaring Him to be a hard
master would."
I did not say anything more to the old man. His words so
evidently were strength and joy to him, that I could not venture
to question them further. To me, also, they have given a gleam
of hope. And yet, if the way is not rough and difficult, and if
it is not a hard thing to please Almighty God, why all those
severe rules and renunciations those heavy penances for trifling
offences?
Merciful we know He is. But the emperor may be mefciful ;
and yet, if a peasant were to attempt to enter the imperial
presence without the prescribed forms, would he not be driven
from the palace with curses, at the point of the sword? And
what are those rules at the court of heaven?
If perfect purity of heart and life, who can lay claim to that?
If a minute attention to the rules of an order such as this of St
Augustine, who can be sure of having never failed in this? The
inattention which caused the neglect would probably let it glide
from the memory. And then, what is the worth of confession?
Christ is the Saviour, but only of those who follow him.
There is forgiveness of sins, but only for those who make ade-
quate confession. I, alas ! have not followed him fully. What
priest on earth can assure me I have ever confessed fully?
Therefore I see Him merciful, gracious, holy a Saviour, but
seated on a high throne, where I can never be sure petitions of
mine will reach him; and, alas! one day to be seated on a great
FriedricVs Story. 103
white throne, whence it is too sure his summoning voice will
reach me.
Mary, mother of God, Virgin of virgins, mother of divine
grace holy Sebastian and all martyrs ^great father Augustine
and all holy doctors, intercede for me, that my penances may
be accepted as a satisfaction for my sins, and may pacify my
Judge.
March 25. Annunciation of the Holy Virgin.
My preceptor has put into my hands the Bible bound in red
morocco which Brother Martin, he says, used to read so much.
I am to study it in all the intervals which the study of the
fathers, expeditions for begging, the services of the Church, and
the menial offices in the house which fall to the share of novices,
allow. These are not many. I have never had a Bible in my
hands before, and the hours pass quickly indeed in my cell
which I can spend in reading it. The preceptor, when he comes
to call me for the midnight service, often finds me still reading.
It is very different from what I expected. There is nothing
oratorical in it, there are no laboured disquisitions, and no
minute rules, at least in the New Testament
I wish sometimes I had lived in the Old Jewish times, when
there was one temple wherein to worship, certain definite feasts
to celebrate, certain definite ceremouial rules to keep.
If I could have stood in the Temple courts on that great day
of atonement, and seen the victim slain, and watched till the
high priest cajne out from the holy place with his hands lifted up
in benediction, I should have known absolutely that God was
satisfied, and returned to my home in peace.. Yes, to my home!
There were no monasteries, apparently, in those Jewish times.
Family life was God's appointment then, and family affections
had his most solemn sanctions.
In the New Testament, on the contrary, I cannot find any of
those definite rules. It is all addressed to the heart; and who
can make the heart right? I suppose it is the conviction of this
which has made the Church since then restore many minute
rules and discipline, in imitation of the Jewish ceremonial; for
in the Gospels and Epistles I can find no ritual, ceremonial, or
definite external rules of any kind.
104 Chronicles of tJie Schonberg-Cotta Family,
What advantage, then, has the New Testament over the oldl
Christ has come. " God so loved the world, that he gave his
only begotten Son." This ought surely to make a great differ-
ence between us and the Jews. But how?
April ^%T. Gregory op Nyssa.
I have found, in my reading to-day, the end of Eva's sentence
" God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have ever-
lasting life"
How simple the words are ! " Believeth ;" that would mean,
in any other book, " trusteth," " has reliance" in Christ; ^simply
to confide in him, and then receive his promise not to perish.
But here ^in this book, in theology ^it is necessarily impossible
that believing can mean anything so simple as that; because, at
that rate, any one who merely came to the Lord Jesus Christ
in confiding trust would have everlasting life, without any further
conditions; and this is obviously out of the question.
For what can be more simple than to confide in one worthy
of confidence] and what can be greater than everlasting life!
And yet we know, from all the teaching of the doctors and
fathers of the Church, that nothing is more difficult than obtaining
everlasting life; and that, for this reason, monastic orders, pil-
grimages, penances, have been multiplied from century to
century; for this reason saints have forsaken every earthly joy,
and inflicted on themselves every possible torment; ^all to
obtain everlasting life, which, if this word " believeth" meant
here what it would mean anywhere but in theology, would be
offered freely to every petitioner.
Wherefore it is clear that " believeth," in the Scriptures,, means
something entirely different from what it does in any secular
book, and must include contrition, confession, penance, satis-
faction, mortification of the flesh, and all else necessary to
salvation.
Shall I venture to send this end of Eva's sentence to her?
It might mislead her. Dare I for her sake? dare I still
more for my own?
One hour I have sat before this question; and whither has my
Friedrich's Story, 105
heart wandered ? What confession can retrace the flood of bitter
' thoughts which have rushed over me in this one hour]
I had watched her grow from childhood into early woman-
hood; and until these last months, until that week of anguish,
I had thought of her as a creature between a child and an angel.
I had loved her as a sister who had yet a mystery and a charm
about her different from a sister. Only when it seemed that
death might separate us did it burst upon me that there was
something in my affection for her which made her not one
among others, but in some strange sacred sense the only one on
earth to me.
And as I recovered came the hopes I must never more recall,
which made all life like the woods in spring, and my heart like
a full river set free from its ice-fetters, and flowing through the
world in a tide of blessing.
I thought of a home which might be, I thought of a sacrament
which should transubstantiate sdl life into a symbol of heaven,
a home which was to be peaceful and sacred as a church, because
of the meek, and pure, and heavenly creature who should mini-
ster and reign there.
And then came to me that terrible vision of a city smitten by
the pestilence which I had brought, with the recollection of the
impulse I had had in the forest at midnight, and more than
once since then, to take the monastic vows. I felt I was like
Jonah flying from God ; yet still I hesitated until she was stricken.
And then I yielded. I vowed if she were saved I would become
a monk.
Not till she was stricken, whose loss would have made the
whole world a blank to me: not till the sacrifice was worthless,
did I make it! And will God accept such a sacrifice as thisi
At least Brother Martin had not this to reproach himself
with. He did not delay his conversion until his whole being
had become possessed by an image no prayers can erase; nay,
which prayer and holy meditations on heaven itself, only rivet on
the heart, as the purest reflection of heaven memory can recall.
Brother Martin, at least, did not trifle with his vocation until
too late.
VII,
January ay.
|T is too plain now why Fritz would not look back as he
went down the street. He thought it would be
looking back from the kingdom of God.
The kingdom of God, then, is the cloister, and the world, w^
are that ! ^father, mother, brothers, sisters, friends, home, that
is the world! I shall never understand it. For if all my
younger brothers say is true, either all the priests and monks
are not in the kingdom of God, or the kingdom of God is
strangely governed here on earth.
Fritz was helping us all so much. He would have been the
stay of our parents' old age. He was the example and admira-
tion of the boys, and the pride and delight of us all ; and to
pte/ My heart grows so bitter when I write about it, I seem to
hate and reproach every one. Every one but Fritz; I cannot,
of course, hate him. But why was all that was gentlest and
noblest in him made to work towards this last dreadful step]
If our father had only been more successful, Fritz need not
have entered on that monastic foundation at Erfurt, which made
his conscience so sensitive ; if my mother had only not been so
religious, and taught us to reverence Aunt Agnes as so much
better than herself, he might never have thought of the monastic
life; if I had been more religious he might have confided more
in me, and I might have induced him to pause, at least, a few
years before taking this unalterable step. If Eva had not been
so wilful, and insisted on braving the contagion from me, she
might never have been stricken, and that vow might not yt,
might never have been taken. If God had not caused him so
innocently to bring the pestilence among us ! But I must not
Elsi's Story, 107
dare to say another word of complaint, or it will become blas-
phemy. Doubtless it is God who has willed to bring all this
misery on us; and to rebel against God is a deadly sin. As
Aunt Agnes said, "The Lord is a jealous God," he will not
suffer us to make idols. We must love him best, first, alone.
We must make a great void in our heart by renouncing all
earthly affections, that he may fill it. We must mortify the
flesh, that we may live. What, then, is the flesh 1 I suppose
all our natural affections, lyhich the monks call our fleshly lusts.
These Fritz has renounced. Then if all our natural affections
are to die in us, what is to live in us % The " spiritual life,"
they say in some of the sermons, and " the love of God." But
are not my natural affections my heart; and if I am not to love
God with my heart, with the heart with which I love my father
and mother, what am I to love him with?
It seems to me, the love of God to us is something quite
different from any human being's love to us.
When human beings love us they like to have us with them ;
they delight to make us happy; they delight in our being happy,
whether they make us so or not, if it is a light happiness, a hap-
piness that does us good.
But with God's love it must be quite different He warns us
not on any account to come too near Him. We have to place
priests, and saints, and penances between us and Him, and
then approach Him with the greatest caution, lest, after all, it
should be in the wrong way, and He should be angry. And,
instead of delighting in our happiness, He is never so much
pleased as when we renounce all the happiness of our life, and
make other people wretched in doing so, as Fritz, our own
Fritz, has just done.
Therefore, also, no doubt, the love God requires we should
feel for Him is something entirely different from the love we
give each other. It must, I suppose, be a serious, severe, calm
adoration, too sublime to give either joy or sorrow, such as had
left its stamp on Aunt Agnes's grave impassive face. I cati
never, never even attempt to attain to it. Certainly at present
I have no time to think of it
Thank Heaven, thou livest still, mother of mercy! In thy
io8 CJtronicles of the Sckonberg-Cotta Family.
face there have been tears, real, bitter, human tears ; in thine
eyes there have been smiles of joy, real, simple, human joy.
Thou wilt understand and have pity. Yet oh, couldst not thou,
even thou, sweet mother, have reminded him of the mother he
has left to battle on alone? thou who art a mother, and didst bend
over a cradle, and hadst a little lowly home at Nazareth once f
But I know my own mother would not even herself have
uttered a word to keep Fritz back. When first we heard of it,
and I entreated her to write and remonstrate, although the
tears were streaming from her eyes, she said, "Not a word,
Elsfe, not a syllable. Shall not I give my son up freely to Him
who gave him to me. God might have called him away from
earth altogether when he lay smitten with the plague, and shall
I grudge him to the cloister? I shall see him again," she added,
" once or twice at least. When he is consecrated priest, shall
I not have joy then, and see him in his white robes at the altar,
and, perhaps, even receive my Creator from his hands 1"
"Once or twice! O mother!" I sobbed, "and in church,
amongst hundreds of others 1 What pleasure will there be in
that r
" Elsb," she said softly, but with a firmness unusual with her,
" ray child, do not say another word. Once I myself had some
faint inclination to the cloister, which, if I had nourished it,
might have grown into a vocation. But I saw your father, and
I neglected it. And see what troubles my children have to
bear ! Has there not also been a kind of fatal spell on all your
father's inventions ? Perhaps God will at last accept from me
in my son what I withheld in myself, and will be pacified to-
wards us, and send us better days; and then your father's great
invention will be completed yet. But do not say anything of
what I told you to him !"
I have never seen our father so troubled about anything.
"Just as he was able to understand my projects 1" he said,
" and I would have bequeathed them all to him ! "
For some days he never touched a model ; but now he has
crept back to his old folios and his instruments, and tells us
there was something in Fritz's horoscope which might have
prepared us for this, had he only understood it a little before.
Els^s Story, 109
However, this discovery, although too late to warn us of the blow,
consoles our father, and he has resumed his usual occupations.
Eva looks very pale and fragile, partly, no doubt, from the
effects of the pestilence ; but when first the rumour reached us,
I sought some sympathy from her, and said, " O Eva, how
strange it seems, when Fritz always thought of us before himself,
to abandon us all thus without one word of warning."
" Cousin Elsb," she said, " Fritz has done now as he always
does. He ?ias thought of us first, I am as sure of it as if I could
hear him say so. He thought he would serve us best by leaving
us thus, or he would never have left us.
She understood him best of all, as she so often does. When
his letter came to our mother, it gave just the reasons she had
often told me she was sure had moved him.
It is difficult to tell what Eva feels, because of that strange
inward peace in her which seems always to flow under all her
other feelings.
I have not seen her shed any tears at all ; and whilst I can
scarcely bear to enter our dear old lumber-room, or to do any-
thing I did with him, her great delight seems to be to read every
book he liked, and to learn and repeat every hymn she learned
with him.
Eva and the mother cling very closely together. She will
scarcely let my mother do any household work, but insists on
sharing every laborious task which hitherto we have kept her
from, because of her slight and delicate frame.
It is true I rise early to save them all the work I can, be-
cause they have neither of them half the strength I have, and I
enjoy stirring about. Thoughts come so much more bitterly on
me when I am sitting still.
But when I am kneading the dough, or pounding the clothes
with stones in the stream on washing-days, I feel as I were
pounding at all my perplexities ; and that makes my hands
stronger and my perplexities more shadowy, until even now J
find myself often singing as I am wringing the clothes by the
stream. It is so pleasant in the winter sunshine, with the brook
babbling among the rushes and cresses, and little Thekla pratt-
ling by my side, and pretending to help.
1 10 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
But when I have finished my day's work, and come into the
house, I find the mother and Eva sitting close side by side; and
perhaps Eva is silent, and my mother brushes tears away as
they fall on her knitting; but when they look up, their faces are
calm and peaceful, and then I know they have been talking
about Fritz.
Eisenach, February a.
Yesterday afternoon I found Eva translating a Latin hymn
he loved, to our mother, and then she sang it through in her
sweet clear voice. It was about the dear, dear country in
heaven, and Jerusalem the Golden.
In the evening I said to her
" O Eva, how can you bear to sing the hymns Fritz loved so
dearly ] I could not sing a line steadily of any song he had
cared to hear me sing ! And he delighted always so much to
listen to you. His voice would echo * never, never more ' to
every note I sung, and the songs would all end in sobs."
" But I do not feel separated from Fritz, Cousin Elsfe," she
said, " and I never shall. Instead of hearing that melancholy
chant you think of, ' never, never more ' echo from all the hymns
he loved, I always seem to hear his voice responding, *For
ever and for evermore.' And I think of the time when we shall
sing them together again."
" Do you mean in heaven, Eval" I said, " that is so very far
off, if we ever reach it "
" Not so very far off. Cousin Elsb," she said. " I often think
it is very near. If it were not so, how could the angels be so
much with us and yet with God]"
" But life seems so long, now Fritz is gone."
" Not so very long. Cousin Elsfe," she said. " I often think
it may be very short, and often I pray it may."
" Eva !" I exclaimed, "you surely do not pray that you may
die r
" Why not 1" she said, very quietly. " I think if God took
us to himself, we might help those we love better there than at
Eisenach, or perhaps even in the convent. And it is there we
shall meet again, and there are never any partings. My father
told me so," she added, " before he died"
Elsk's Story, 1 1 1
Then I understood how Eva mourns for Fritz, and why she
does not weep; but I could only say
" O Eva, do not pray to die. There are all the saints in
heaven : and you help us so much more here I"
February 8.
I cannot feel at all reconciled to losing Fritz, nor do I think
I ever shall. Like all the other troubles, it was no doubt
meant to do me good; but it does me none, I am sure, although,
of course, that is my fault. What did me good was being happy,
as I was when Fritz came back; and that is passed for
ever.
My great comfort is our grandmother. The mother and Eva
look on everything from such sublime heights ; but my grand-
mother feels more as I do. Often, indeed, she speaks very
severely of Fritz, which always does me good, because, of
course, I defend him, and then she becomes angry, and says
we are an incomprehensible family, and have the strangest ideas
of right and wrong, from my father downward, she ever heard
of ; and then I grow angry, and say my father is the best and
wisest man in the Electoral States. Then our grandmother
begins to lament over her poor, dear daughter, and the life she
has led, and rejoices, in a plaintive voice, that she herself has
nearly done with the world altogether; and then I try to com-
fort her, and say that I am sure there is not much in the world
to make any one wish to stay in it; and, having reached this
point of despondency, we both cry and embrace each other,
and she says I am a poor, good child, and Fritz was always the
delight of her heart, which I know very well ; and thus we
comfort each other. We have, moreover, solemnly resolved,
our grandmother and I, that, whatever comes of it, we will
never call Fritz anything but Fritz.
"Brother Sebastian, indeed !" she said; "your mother might
as well take a new husband as your brother a new name 1 Was
not she married, and was not he christened in church ? Is not
Friedrich a good, honest name, which hundreds of your ancestors
have borne ] And shall we call him instead a heathen foreign
name, that none of your kindred were ever known by?"
" Not heathen, grandmother," I ventured to suggest " You
112 Chronicles of tfie Sckonberg-Cotta Family,
remember telling us of the martyrdom of St Sebastian by the
heathen emperor?"
" Do you contradict me, child 1" she exclaimed. " Did I not
know the whole martyrology before your mother was bom 1 I
say it w a heathen name. No blame to the saint if his parents
were poor benighted Pagans, and knew no better name to give
him ; but that our Fritz should adopt it instead of his own is
fet disgrace. My lips at least are too old to learn such new
fashioned nonsense. I shall call him the name I called him
fet the font and in his cradle, and no other."
"Yes, Fritz! Fritz! he is to us, and shall be always. Fritz
in our hearts till death !
We have just heard that Fritz has finished his first month of
probation, and has been invested with the frock of the novice.
I hate to think of his thick, dark, waving hair clipped in the
circle of the tonsure. But the worst part of it is the effect of
his becoming a monk has had on the other boys, Christopher
and Pollux.
They, who before this thought Fritz the model of everything
good and great, seem repelled from all religion now. I have
difficulty even in getting them to church.
Christopher said to me the other day
" Els^, why is a man who suddenly deserts his family to
become a soldier called a villain, while the man who deserts
those who depend on him to become a monk is called a saint 1"
It is very unfortunate the boys should come to me with their
religious perplexities, because I am so perplexed myself, I have
no idea how to answer them. I generally advise them to ask
Eva.
This time I could only say, as our grandmother had so often
said to me,
" You must wait till you are older, and then you will under-
stand." But I added, "Of course it is quite different: one
leaves his home for God, and the other for the world."
But Christopher is the worst, and he continued,
" Sister Elsfe, I do not like the monks at all. You and Eva
and our mother have no idea how wicked many of them are.
Else's Story. 113
Reinhardt says he has seem them drunk often, and heard them
swear, and that some of them make a jest even of the mass, and
that the priests' houses are not fit for any honest maiden to
visit, and, "
"Reinhardt is a bad boy," I said, colouring; "and I have
often told you I do not want to hear anything he says."
" But I, at all events, shall never become a monk or a priest,"
retorted Christopher; "I think the merchants are better.
Women cannot tmderstand about these things," he added, loftily,
" and it is better they should not; but I know; and I intend to
be a merchant or a soldier."
Christopher and Pollux are fifteen, and Fritz is two-and-
twenty; but he never talked in that lofty way to me about
women not understanding !
It did make me indignant to hear Christopher, who is always
tearing his clothes, and getting into scrapes, and perplexing us
to get him out of them, comparing himself with Fritz, and look-
ing down on his sisters ; and I said, " It is only boys who talk
scornfully of women. Men, true men, honour women."
" The monks do not !" retorted Christopher. " I have heard
them say things myself worse than I have ever said about any
woman. Only last Sunday, did not Father Boniface say half
the mischief in the world had been done by women, from Eve
to Helen and Cleopatra?"
"Do not mention our mother Eve with those heathens,
Christopher," said our grandmother, coming to my rescue, from
her comer by the stove. " Eve is in the Holy Scriptures, and
many of these pagans are not fit for people to speak of. Half
the saints are women, you know very well. Peasants and
traders," she added sublimely, "may talk slightingly of women;
but no man can be a true knight who does."
"The monks do !" muttered Christopher doggedly.
" I have nothing to say about the monks," rejoined our grand-
mother tartly. And accepting this imprudent concession of our
grandmothers, Christopher retired from the contest.
March 35.
I have just been looking at two letters addressed to Father
Johann Braun, one of our Eisenach priests, by Martin Luther.
8
1 14 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
They were addressed to him as " the holy and venerable priest
of Christ and of Mary." So much I could understand, and also
that he calls himself Brother Martin Luther, not Brother
Augustine, a name he assumed on first entering the cloister.
Therefore certainly I may call our Fritz, Brother Friedrich
Cotta.
March 99, xsia
A young man was at Aunt Ursula Cotta's this evening, who
told us strange things about the doings at Annaberg.
Dr. Tetzel has been there two years, selling the papal indul-
gences to the people ; and lately, out of regard, he says, to the
great piety of the German people, he has reduced their price.
There was a great deal of discussion about it, which I rather
regretted the boys were present to hear. My father said indul-
gences did not mean forgiveness of sins, but only remission of
certain penances which the Church had imposed. But the
young man from Annaberg told us that Dr. John Tetzel
solemnly assured the people, that since it was impossible for
them, on account of their sins, to make satisfaction to God by
their works, our Holy Father the Pope, who has the control
of all the treasury of merits accumulated by the Church through-
out the ages, now graciously sells those merits to any who will
buy, and thereby bestows on them forgiveness of sins (even of sins
which no other priest can absolve), and a certain entrance into
eternal life.
The young man said, also, that the great red cross has been
erected in the nave of the principal church, with the crown of
thorns, the nails, and spear suspended from it, and that at times
it has been granted to the people even to see the blood of the
Crucified flow from the cross. Beneath this cross are the ban-
ners of the Church, and the papal standard, with the triple crown.
Before it is the large, strong iron money chest On one side
stands the pulpit, where Dr. Tetzel preaches daily, and exhorts
the people to purchase this inestimable favour while yet there is
time, for themselves and their relations in purgatory, ^and tran-
slates the long parchment mandate of the Lord Pope, with the
papal seals hanging from it On the other side is a table, where
sit several priests, with pen, ink, and writing-desk, selling the
Elsies Story, I15
indulgence tickets, and counting the money into boxes. Lately^
he told us, not only have the prices been reduced, but at the
end of the letter affixed to the churches, it is added, ^ Pauperis
bus dentur gratis''
"Freely to the poor!" That certainly would suit us! And
if I had only time to make a pilgrimage to Annaberg, if this is
the kind of religion that pleases God, it certainly might be
attainable even for me.
If Fritz had only known it before, he need not have made
that miserable vow. A journey to Annabeig would have more
than answered the purpose.
Only, if the Pope has such inestimable treasures at his dis-
posal, why could he not always give them "freely to the poor,"
always and everywhere?
But I know it is a sin to question what the Lord Pope does.
I might almost as well question what the Lord God Almighty
does. For He also, who gave those treasures to the Pope, is
He not everywhere, and could He not give them freely to us
direct] It is plain these are questions too high for me.
I am not the only one perplexed by those indulgences, how-
ever. My mother says it is not the way she was taught, and
she had rather keep to the old paths. Eva said, " If I were
the Lord Pope, and had such a treasure, I think I could not
help instantly leaving my palace and my beautiful Rome, and
going over the mountains and over the seas, into every city and
every village; every hut in the forests, and every room in the
lowest streets, that none might miss the blessing, although I had
to walk barefoot, and never saw holy Rome again.'*
" But then," said our father, " the great church at St Peter's
would never be built It is on that, you know, the indulgence
money is to be spent"
"But Jerusalem the Golden would be built, Uncle Cotta!"
said Eva; " and would not that be better?
"We had better not talk about it, Eva," said the mother.
"The holy Jerusalem is being built; and I suppose there are
many different ways to the same end. Only I like the way I
know best"
The boys, I regret to say, had made many irreverent gestures
1 16 Chronicles of the Sclionberg-Cotta Family,
during this conversation about the indulgences, and afterwards
I had to speak to them.
" Sister Elsfe, " said Christopher, " it is quite useless talking
to me. I hate the monks, and all belonging to them. And I
do not believe a word they say at least, not because they say
it. The boys at school say ^b Dr. Tetzel is a very bad man,
and a great liar. Last week Reinhardt told us something he did,
which will show you what he is. One day he promised to show
the people a feather which the devil plucked out of the wing of
the archangel Michael. Reinhardt says he supposes the devil
gave it to Dr. Tetzel. However that may be, during the night
some students in jest found their way to his relic-box, stole the
feather, and replaced it by some coals. The next day, when
Dr. Tetzel had been preaching fervently for a long time on the
wonders of this feather, when he opened the box there was no-
thing in it but charcoal. But he was not to be disconcerted.
He merely said, * I have taken the wrong box of relics, I per-
ceive; these are some inost sacred cinders the relics of the
holy body of St Laurence, who was roasted on a gridiron.' "
" Schoolboys* stories," said I.
" They are as good as monks* stories, at all events," rejoined
Christopher.
I resolved to see if Pollux was as deeply possessed with this
irreverent spirit as Christopher, and therefore this morning, when
I found him alone, I said, " Pollux, you used to love Fritz so
dearly, you would not surely take up thoughts which would pain
nim so deeply if he knew of it."
" I do love Fritz,** Pollux replied, " but I can never think he
was right in leaving us all; and I like the religion of the Creeds
and the Ten Commandments better than that of the monks.*'
Daily, hourly I feel the loss of Fritz. It is not half as much
the money he earned; although, of course, that helped us; we
can and do struggle on without that. It is the influence he
had over the boys. They felt he was before them in the same
race; and when he remonstrated with them about an)rthing, they
listened. But if I blame them, they think it is only a woman's
ignorance, or a woman's superstition, and boys, they say, can-
not be like women. And now it is the same with Fritz. He
Elsi's Story. 117
is removed into another sphere, which is not theirs; and if I
remind them of what he did or said, they Bay, "Yes, Fritz
thought so; but you know he has become a monk; but w6 do
not intend ever to be monks, and the religion of monks and
laymen are different things."
Aprils.
The spring is come again. I wonder if it sends the thrill of
joy into Fritz's cell at Erfurt that it does into all the forests
around us here, and into my heart !
I suppose there are trees near him, and birds little happy
birds making their nests among them, as they do in our yard,
and singing as they work.
But the birds are not monks. Their nests are little homes, and
they wander freely whither they will, only brought back by love.
Perhaps Fritz does not like to Hsten to the birds now, because
they remind him of home, and of our long spring days in the
forest. Perhaps, too, they are part of the world he has re-
nounced \ and he must be dead to the world !
April z.
We have had a long day in the forest, gathering sticks and
dry twigs. Every creature seemed so happy there! It was
such a holiday to watch the ants roofing their nests with fir
twigs, and the birds flying hither and thither with food for
their nestlings; and to hear the wood-pigeons, which Fritz
always said were like Ev^, cooing softly in the depths of the
forest.
At mid-day we sat down in a clearing of the forest, to enjoy
the meal we had brought with us. A little quiet brook prattled
near us, of which we drank, and the delicate young twigs on the
topmost boughs of the dark, majestic pines trembled softly, as
if for joy, in the breeze.
As we rested, we told each other stories. Pollux began with
wild tales of demon hunts, which flew with the baying of demon
. dogs through these very forests at midnight. Then, as the
children began to look fearfully around, and shiver, even at
mid-day, while they listened, Christopher delighted them witli
quaint stories of wolves in sheeps' clothing politely offiering
themselves to the fanner as shepherds, which, I suspect, were
1 18 Chronicles of tfte Schonberg-Cotta Family.
from some dangerous satirical book, but, without the applica*
tion, were very amusing.
Chriemhild and Atlantis had their stories of Kobolds, who
played strange tricks in the cow-stall; and of Riibezahl and
the misshapen dwarf gnomes, who guarded the treasures of gold
and silver in the glittering caves under the mountains; and of
the elves, who danced beside the brooks at twilight
"And I," said loving little Thekla, "always want to see poor
Nix, the water-sprite, who cries by the streams at moonlight,
and lets his tears mix with the waters, because he has no soul, and
he wants to live for ever. I should like to give him half mine."
We should all of us have been afraid to speak of these crea-
tures, in their own haunts among the pines, if the sun had not
been high in the heavens. Even as it was, I began to feel a
little uneasy, and I wished to turn the conversation from these
elves and sprites, who, many think, are the spirits of the old
heathen gods, who linger about their haunts. One reason
why people think so is, that they dare not venture within .the
sound of the church bells; which makes some, again, think
they are worse than poor, shadowy, dethroned heathen gods,
and had, indeed, better be never mentioned at all. I thought
I could not do better than tell the legend of my beloved giant
Offerus, who became Christopher and a saint by carrying the
holy child across the river.
Thekla wondered if her favourite Nix could be saved in the
same way. She longed to see him and tell him about it.
But Eva had still her story to tell, and she related to us her
legend of St Catharine.
"St Catharine,*' she said, "was a lady of royal birth, the
only child of the king and queen of Egypt Her parents were
heathens, but they died and left her an orphan when she was
only fourteen. She was more beautiful than any of the ladies
of her court, and richer than any princess in the world; but
she did not care for pomp, or dress, or all her precious things.
God's golden stars seemed to her more magnificent than all
the splendour of her kingdom, and she shut herself up in her
palace, and studied philosophy and the stars until she grew
wiser than all the wise men of the East
Elsi's Story. 119
" But one day the Diet of Egypt met, and resolved that their
young queen must be persuaded to marry. They sent a depu-
tation to her in her palace, who asked her, if they could find a
prince beautiful beyond any, surpassing all philosophers in wis-
dom, of noblest mind and richest inheritance, would she marry
himi The queen replied, ' He must be so noble that all men
shall worship him, so great that I shall never think I have
made him king, so rich that none shall ever say I enriched him,
so beautiful that the angels of God shall desire to behold
him. If ye can find such a prince, he shall be my husband
and the lord of my heart' Now, near the queen's palace there
lived a poor old hermit in a cave, and that very night the holy
Mother of God appeared to him, and told him the King who
should be lord of the queen's heart was none other than her
Son. Then the hermit went to the palace and presented the
queen with a picture of the Virgin and Child; and when St
Catharine saw it her heart was so filled with its holy beauty
that she forgot her books, her spheres, and the stars; Plato and
Socrates became tedious to her as a twice-told tale, and she
kept the sacred picture always before her. Then one night she
had a dream : She met on the top of a high mountain a glori-
ous company of angels, clothed in white, with chaplets of
white lilies. She fell on her face before them, but they said,
Stand up, dear sister Catharine, and be right welcome.* Then
they led her by the hand to another company of angels more
glorious still, clothed in purple with chaplets of red roses. Be-
fore these, again, she fell on her face, dazzled with their glory;
but they said, * Stand up, dear sister Catharine ; thee hath the
King delighted to honour.' Then they led her by the hand to
an inner chamber of the palace of heaven, where sat a queen
in state ; and the angels said to her, ' Our most gracious
sovereign Lady, Empress of heaven, and Mother of the King
of Blessedness, be pleased that we present unto you this our
sister, whose name is in the Book of Life, beseeching you to
accept her as your daughter and handmaid.' Then our blessed
Lady rose and smiled graciously, and led St. Catharine to her
blessed Son; but he turned from her, and said sadly, 'She is
not fair enough for Me' Then St Catharine awoke, and in
1 20 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
her heart all day echoed the words, * She is not fair enough for
Me;* and she rested not until she became a Christian and was
baptized. And then, after some years, the tyrant Maximin put
her to cruel torttures, and beheaded her because she was a
Christian. But the angels took her body, and laid it in a white
marble tomb on the top of Mount Sinai, and the Lord Jesus
Christ received her soul, and welcomed her to heaven as his
pure and spotless bride; for at last he had made her ^fair enough
for him* And so she has lived ever since in. heaven, and is
the sister of the angels."
After Eva*s legend we began our work again; and in the
evening, as we returned with our faggots, it was pleasant to
see the goats creeping on before the long shadows which even-
ing began to throw from the forests across the green valleys.
The hymns which Eva sang as we went, seemed quite in tune
with everything else. I did not want to understand the words;
everything seemed singing in words I could not help feeling,
" God is good to us alL He gives twigs to the ants, and
grain to the birds, and makes the trees their palaces, and teaches
them to sing ; and will He not care for you]"
Then the boys were so good ! They never gave me a mo-
ments anxiety, not even Christopher, but collected faggots
twice as large as ours in half the time, and then finished oiurs,
and then performed all kinds of feats in climbing trees and
leaping brooks, and brought home countless treasures for
Thekla.
These are the days that always make me feel so much better ;
even a little religious, and as if I could almost love God ! It
is only when I come back again into the streets, under the sha-
dow of the nine monasteries, and see the monks and priests in
dark robeS flitting silently about with dovncast eyes, that I re-
member we are not like the birds or even the ants, for they have
never sinned, and that, therefore, God cannot care for us and
love us as he seems to do the least of his other creatures, until
we have become holy, and worked our way through that great
wall of sin which keeps us from him and shadows all our life.
. Eva does not feel thus. As we returned she laid her basket
^ down on the threshold of St. George's Church, and crossing
/jlC.
Elsk's Story. 121
herself with holy water, went softly up to the high altar, and
there she knelt while the lamp burned before the Holy Sacra-
ment And when I looked at her face as she rose, it was beam*
ing with joy.
" You are happy, Eva, in the church and in the forest," I said
to her as we went home ; " you seem at home everywhere."
" Is not God everywhere?" she said ; "and has He not loved
the world 1"
" But our sins /" I said.
" Have we not the Saviour?" she said, bowing her head.
" But think how hard people find it to please him," I said.
" Think of the pilgrimages, the penances, the indulgences !"
" I do not quite understand all that," she said ; " I only quite
understand my sentence and the crucifix which tells us the Son
of God died for man. That must have been from love, and I
love him ; and all the rest I am content to leave."
" But to-night as I look at her dear childlike face asleep, on the
pillow, and see how thin the cheek is which those long lashes
shade, and how transparent the little hand on which she rests,
a cold fear comes over me lest God should even now be mak-
ing her spirit " fair enough for him," and so too fair for earth
and for us.
This afternoon I was quite cheered by seeing Christopher
and Pollux bending together eagerly over a book, which they
had placed before them on the window sill. It reminded me
of Fritz, and I went up to see what they were reading.
I found, however, to my dismay, it was no church-book or
learned Latin school-book; but, on the contrary, a German
book full of woodcuts, which shocked me very much. It was
called Reinecke Fuchs, and as far as I could understand made
a jest of everything. There were foxes with monk's frocks, and
even in cardinal's hats, and wolves in cassocks with shaven
crowns. Altogether it seemed to me a very profane and peril-
ous book ; but when I took it to our father, to my amazement
he seemed as much amused with it as the boys, and said there
were evils in the world which were better attacked by jests than
by sermons.
1 22 Chronicles of the Sckonberg-Cotta Family*
Apnl, SL MarVt Day.
I have just heard a sermon about despising the world, from
a great preacher, one of the Dominican friars, who is going
through the land to awaken people to religion.
He spoke especially against money, which he called " delu-
sion, and dross, and worthless dust, and a soul-destroying
canker." To monks no doubt it may be so ; for what could
they do with it 1 But it is not so to mc. Yesterday money
filled my heart with one of the purest joys I have ever known,
and made me thank God as I hardly ever thanked him before.
The time had come round to pay for some of the printing
materials, and we did not know where to turn for the sum we
needed. Lately I have been employing my leisure hours in
embroidering some fine Venetian silk Aunt Ursula gave me ;
and not having any copies, I had brought in some fresh leaves
and flowers from the forest and tried to imitate them, hoping to
sell them.
When I had finished, it was thought pretty, and I carried it
to the merchant, who took the father's precious models, long
ago.
He has always been kind to us since, and has procured us
ink and paper at a cheaper rate than others can buy it
When I showed him my work he seemed surprised, and in-
stead of showing it to his wife, as I had expected, he said smil-
ing,-
" These things are not for poor honest burghers like me.
You know my wife might be fined by the sumptuary laws if she
aped the nobility by wearing anything so fine as this. I am
going to the Wartbuig to speak about a commission I have
executed for the Elector-Frederick, and if you like I will take
you and your embroidery with me."
I felt dismayed at first at such an idea, but I had on the new
dress Fritz gave me a year ago, and I resolved to venture.
It was so many vears since I had passed through that massive
gateway into the great court-yard ; and I thought of St Eliza-
beth distributing loaves, perhaps, at that very gate, and in-
wardly entreated her to make the elector or the ladies of his
court propitious to me.
Elsi*s Story. 123
I was left standing what seemed to nie a long time, in an
ante-room. Some veiy gaily dressed gentlemen and ladies
passed me and looked at me rather scornfully. I thought the
courtiers were not much improved since the days when they
were so rude to St. Elizabeth.
But at last I was summoned into the Elector's presence. I,
trembled very much, for I thought If the servants are so
haughty, what will the master be? But he smiled on me quite
kindly, and said, " My good child, I like this work of thine ;
and this merchant tells me thou art a dutiful daughter. I will
purchase this at once for one of my sisters, and pay thee at
once.'*
I was so surprised and delighted with his kindness that I can-
not remember the exact words of what he said afterwards, but
the substance of them was that the elector is building a new
church at his new university town of Wittemberg which is to
have choicer relics than any church in Germany. And I am
engaged to embroider altar-cloths and coverings for the reli-
quaries. And the sum already paid me nearly covers our pre-
sent debt
No ! whatever that Dominican preacher might say, nothing
would ever persuade me that these precious guldens, which I
took home yesterday evening with a heart brimming over with
joy and thankfulness, which made our father clasp his hands in
thanksgiving, and our mother's eyes overflow with happy tears,
are mere delusion, or dross, or dust
Is not money what we make it 1 Dust in the miser's chests ;
canker in the proud man's heart ; but golden sunbeams, streams
of blessing earned by a child's labour and comforting a parent's
heart, or lovingly poured from rich men's hands into poor men's
homes.
Better days seem dawning at last Dr. Martin, who preaches
now at the elector's new university of Wittemberg, must, we
think, have spoken to the elector for us, and our father is ap-
pointed to superintend the printing-press especially for Latin
books, which is to be set up there.
And sweeter even than this, it must be from Fritz that this
124 Chronicles of the Scfionberg-Cotta Family,
boon comes to us. Fritz, dear unselfish Fritz, is the benefactor
of the family after all. It must have been he who asked Dr.
Martin Luther to speak for us. There, in his lonely cell at
Erfurt, he thinks then of us ! And he prays for us. He will
never forget us. His new name will not alter his heart And,
perhaps one day, when the novitiate is over, we may see him
again. But to see him as no more our Fritz, but Brother
Sebastian ! ^his home, the Augustinian cloister ! his mother,
the church ! ^his sisters, all holy women ! would it not be
almost worse than not seeing him at all %
We are all to move to Wittemberg in a month, except Pollux,
who is to remain with Cousin Conrad Cotta, to learn to be a
merchant.
Christopher begins to help about the printing.
There was another thing also in my visit to the Wartburg,
which gives me many a gleam of joy when I think of it If the
elector whose presence I so trembled to enter, proved so much
more condescending and accessible than his courtiers, oh, if
it could only be possible that we are making some mistake
about God, and that He after all may be more gracious and
ready to listen to us than His priests, or even than the saints
who wait on Him in His palace in heaven !
VIII.
Erfurt, Augustinian Convent, Ajhil x.
SUPPOSE conflict of mind working on a constitution
weakened by the plague, brought on the illness from
which I am just recovering. It is good to feel
strength returning as I do. There is a kind of natural irresist-
ible delight in life, however little we have to live for, especially
to one so little prepared to die as I am. As I write, the rooks
are cawing in the churchyard elms, disputing and chattering like
a set of busy prosaic burghers. But retired from all this noisy
public life, two thrushes have built their nest in a thorn just
under the window of my cell. And early in the morning they
wake me with song. He flies hither and thither as busy as a
bee, with food for his mate, as she broods secure among the
thick leaves, and then he perches on a twig, and sings as if he
had nothing to do but to be happy. All is pleasure to him,
no doubt ^the work as well as the singing. Happy the crea-
tures for whom it is God's will that they should live according
to their nature, and not contrary to it.
Probably in the recovering from illness, when the body is still
weak, yet thrilling with reviving strength, the heart is especially
tender, and yearns more towards home and former life than it
will when strength returns and brings duties. Or, perhaps, this
illness recalls the last, ^and the loving faces and soft hushed
voices that were around me then.
Yet I have nothing to complain of. My aged confessor has
scarcely left my bedside. From the first he brought his bed
into my cell, and watched over me like a father.
T 26 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
And his words minister to my heart as much as his hands to
my bodily wants.
If my spirit would only take the comfort he offers, as easily
as I receive food and medicine from his hands !
He does not attempt to combat my difficulties one by one.
He says
" I am little of a physician. I cannot lay my hand on the
seat of disease. But there is One who can." And to Him I
know the simple-hearted old man prays for me.
Often he recurs to the declaration in the creed, " I believe in
the forgiveness of sins." " It is the command of God," he said
to me one day, " that we should believe in the forgiveness of
sins; not of David^s or Peter*s sins, but of ours^ our own, the
very sins that distress our consciences." He also quoted a ser-
mon of St. Bernard's on the annunciation.
" The testimony of the Holy Ghost given in thy heart is this,
* Thy sins are forgiven thee.' "
Yes, forgiven to 2^ penitents I But who can assure me I am
a true penitent?
These words, he told me, comforted Brother Martin, and he
wonders they do not comfort me. I suppose Brother Martin
had "the testimony of the Holy Ghost in his heart;" but who
shall give that to me? to me who resisted the vocation of the
Holy Ghost so long ; who in my deepest heart obey it so im-
perfectly still I
Brother Martin was faithful, honest, thorough, single-hearted,
all that God accepts; all that I am not!
The aflfection and compassion of my aged confessor often,
however, comfort me, even when his words have little power.
They make me feel a dim hope now and then that the Lord he
serves may have something of the same pity in his heart.
Erfurt, April 15.
The Vicar-General, Staupitz, has visited our convent I have
confessed to him. He was very gentle with me, and to my
surprise prescribed me scarcely any penance, although I endea-
voured to unveil all to him.
Once he murmured, as if to himself, looking at me with a
^ritz^s Story. 1 27
penetrating compassion, " Yes, there is no drawing back. But
I wish I had known this before." And then he added to me
** Brother, we must not confuse suffering with sin. It is sin to
turn back. It may be anguish to look back and see what we
have renounced, but it is not necessarily sin, if we resolutely
press forward still. And if sin mingles with the regret, remem-
ber we have to do not with a painted, but a real Saviour; and
he died not for painted but for real sins. Sin is never overcome
by looking at it, but by looking away from it to Him who bore
our sins, yours and mine, on the cross. The heart is never
won back to God by thinking we ought to love him, but by
learning what he is, all worthy of our love. True repentance
begins with the love of God. The Holy Spirit teaches us to
know, and, therefore, to love God. Fear not, but read the
Scriptures, and pray. He will employ thee in his service yet,
and in his favour is life, and in his service is freedom."
This confession gave me great comfort for the time. I felt
myself understood, and yet not despaired of. And that even-
ing, after repeating the Hours, I ventured in my own words to
pray to God, and found it solemn and sweet.
But since then my old fear has recurred. Did I indeed con-
fess completely even to the Vicar-Generall If I had, would
not his verdict have been different 1 Does not the very mild-
ness of his judgment prove that I have once more deceived my-
self made a false confession, and, therefore, failed of the ab-
solution ! But it is a relief to have his positive command as my
superior to study the Holy Scriptures, instead of the scholastic
theologians, to whose writings my preceptor had lately been
exclusively directing my studies.
A^ril 25.
I have this day, to my surprise, received a command, issuing
from the Vicar-CJeneral, to prepare to set off on a mission to
Rome.
The monk under whose direction I am to journey I do not
yet know.
The thought of the new scenes we shall pass through, and the
wonderful new world we shall enter on, new and old, ^fills
me with an almost childish delight Since I heard it, my heart
1 28 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
and conscience seem to have become strangely lightened, which
proves, I fear, how little real earnestness there is in me.
Another thing, however, has comforted me greatly. In the
course of my confession I spoke to the Vicar-General about
my family, and he has procured for my father an appointment
as superintendent of the Latin printing press, at the Elector's
new University of Wittemberg.
I trust now that the heavy pressure of pecuniary care which
has weighed so long on my mother and Elsfe will be relieved.
It would have been sweeter to me to have earned this relief for
them by my own exertions. But we must not choose the shape
or the time in which divine messengers shall appear.
The Vicar-General has, moreover, presented me with a little
volume of sermons by a pious Dominican friar, named Tauler.
These are wonderfully deep and heart-searching. I find it diffi-
cult to reconcile the sublime and enrapt devotion to God which
inspires them, with the minute rules of our order, the details of
scholastic casuistry, and the precise directions as to the measure
of worship and honour, Dulia, Hyperdulia, and Latria to be
paid to the various orders of heavenly beings, which make
prayer often seem as perplexing to me as the ceremonial of
the imperial court would to a peasant of the Thuringian
forest
This Dominican speaks as if we might soar above all these
lower things, and lose ourselves in the One Ineffable Source,
Ground, Beginning, and End of all Being; the One who is all.
Dearer to me, however, than this, is an old manuscript in
our convent library, containing the confessions of the patron of
our order himself, the great father Augustine.
Straight from his heart it penetrates into mine, as if spoken
to me to-day. Passionate, fervent, struggling, wandering,
trembling, adoring heart, I feel its pulses through every line !
And was this the experience of one who is now a saint on
the most glorious heights of heaven]
Then the mother! Patient, lowly, noble, saintly Monica;
mother, and more than martyr. She rises before me in the
likeness of a beloved form I may remember without sin, even
here, even now. St. Monica speaks to me with my mother's
Fritz's Story, 129
voice ; and in the narrative of her prayers I seem to gain a '
deeper insight into what my mother's have been for me.
St Augustine was happy, to breathe the last words of com-
fort to her himself as he did, to be with her dwelling in one
house to the last. This can scarcely be given to me. " That
sweet habit of living together" is broken for ever between us;
broken by my deliberate act. " For the glory of God!" may
God accept it; if not, may he forgive !
That old manuscript is worn with reading. It has lain in the
convent library for certainly more than a hundred years. Gene-
ration after generation of those who now lie sleeping in the field
of God below our windows have turned over those pages.
Heart after heart has doubtless come, as I came, to consult the
oracle of that deep heart of old times, so nearly shipwrecked, so
gloriously saved.
As I read the old thumbed volume, a company of spirits seems
to breathe in fellowship around me, and I think how many,
strengthened by these words, are perhaps even now, Uke him
who penned them, amongst the spirits of the just made perfect.
In the convent library, the dead seem to live again around me.
In the fcemetery are the relics of the corruptible body. Among
these worn volumes I feel the breath of the living spirits of gen-
erations passed away.
I must say, however, there is more opportunity for solitary
communion with the departed in that library than I could wish.
The books are not so much read, certainly, in these days, as the
Vicar-General would desire, although the Augustinian has the
reputation of being among the more learned orders.
I often question what brought many of these easy comfor-
table monks here. But many of the faces give no reply to my
search. No history seems written on them. The wrinkles seem
mere ruts of the wheels of Time, not furrows sown with the seeds
of thought, Chappy at least if they are not as fissures rent by
the convulsions of inward fires.
I suppose many of the brethren became monks just as other
men become tailors or shoemakers, and with no further spiritual
aim, because their parents planned it so. But I may wrong even
the meanest in saying so. The shallowest human heart has
9
130 Chronicles of the Schbnberg-Cotta Family.
I
depths somewhere, let them be crusted over by ice ever so thick,
or veiled by flowers ever so fair.
And I I and this unknown brother are actually about to
journey to Italy, the glorious land of sunshine, and vines, and
olives, and ancient cities the land of Rome, imperial, saintly
Rome, where countless martyrs sleep, where St Augustine and
Monica sojourned, where St Paul and St Peter preached and
suffered, ^where the vicar of Christ lives and reigns?
May I.
The brother with whom I am to make the pilgrimage to Rome
arrived last night To my inexpressible delight it is none other
than Brother Martin Martin Luther! Professor of Theology
in the Elector^s new University of Wittemberg. He is much
changed again since I saw him last, toiling through the streets
of Erfurt with the sack on his shoulder. The hollow, worn look,
has disappeared from his face, and the Are has come back to
his eyes. Their expression varies, indeed, often from the
sparkle of merriment to a grave earnestness, when all their light
seems withdrawn inward; but underneath there is that kind of
repose I have noticed in the countenance of my aged confessor.
Brother Martin's face has, indeed, a history written on it, and
a history, I deem, not yet finished.
Heidelberg, May 35.
I wondered at the lightness of heart with which I set out on
our journey from Erfurt.
The Vicar-General himself accompanied us hither. We tra-
velled partly on horseback, and partly in wheeled carriages*
The conversation turned much on the prospects of the new
university, and the importance of finding good professors of the
ancient languages for it Brother Martin himself proposed to
make use of his sojourn at Rome, to improve himself in Greek
and Hebrew, by studying under the learned Greeks and rabbis
there. They counsel me also to do the same.
The business which calls us to Rome is an appeal to the Holy
Father, concerning a dispute between some convents of ouy
Order and the Vicar-General.
But they say business is slowly conducted at Rome, and will
leave us much time for other occupations besides those which
FrMs Stvry. 131
are most on our hearts, namely, paying homage at the tombs of
the holy apostles and martyrs.
They speak most respectfully and cordially of the Elector
Frederick, who must indeed be a very devout prince. Not many
years since, he accomplished a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and
took with him the painter Lucas Cranach, to make drawings of
the various holy places.
About ten years since, he built a chiurch dedicated to St.
Ursula, on the site of the small chapel erected in 1353, over the
Holy Thorn from the Crown of Thorns, presented to a former
elector by the king of France.
This church is already, they say, through the Elector Frederick's
diligence, richer in relics than any church in Europe, except that
of Assisi, the birthplace of St Francis. And the collection is
still continually being increased.
They showed me a book printed at Wittemberg a year or two
since, entitled " A Description of the Venerable Relics," adorned
with one hundred and nineteen woodcuts.
The town itself seems to be still poor and mean compared
with Eisenach and Erfurt; and the students, of whom there are
now nearly five hundred, are at times very turbulent. There is
much beer-drinking among them. In 1507, three years since,
the Bishop of Brandenburg laid the whole city under interdict
for some insult offered by the students to his suite, and now
they are forbidden to wear guns, swords, or knives.
Brother Martin, however, is full of hope as to the good to be
done among them. He himself received the degree of Biblicus
(Bible teacher) on the 9th of March last year; and every day he
lectures between twelve and one o'clock.
Last summer, for the first time, he was persuaded by the
Vicar-General to preach publicly. I heard some conversation
between them in reference to this, which afterwards Brother
Martin explained to me.
Dr. Staupitz and Brother Martin were sitting last summer in
the convent garden at Wittemberg together, under the shade of
a pear tree, whilst the Vicar-General endeavoured to prevail on
him to preach. He was exceedingly unwilling to make the
attempt. " It is no little matter," said he to Dr. Staupitz, " to
* 132 Chronicles of the SchbHberg-Cotta Family.
appear before the people in the place of God." " I had fifteen
arguments," he continued in relating it to me, " wherewith I
purposed to resist my vocation; but they availed nothing." At
the last I said, " Dr. Staupitz, you will be the death of me, for
I cannot live under it three months." " Very well," replied Dr.
Staupitz, " still go on. Our Lord God hath many great things
to accomplish, and he has need of wise men in heaven as well
as in earth."
Brother Martin could not further resist, and after making a
trial before the brethren in the refectory, at last, with a txemb
ling heart he mounted the pulpit of the little chapel of the
Augustinian cloister.
" When a preacher for the first time enters the pulpit," he
concluded, " no one would believe how fearful he is ; he sees so
many heads before him. When I go into the pulpit, I do not
look on any one. I think them only to be so many blocks
before me, and I speak out the words of my God."
And yet Dr. Staupitz says his words are like thunder-peals.
Yet! do I say] Is it not because? He feels himself nothing;
he feels his message everything; he feels God present What
more could be needed to make a man of his power a great
preacher]
With such discourse the journey seemed accomplished quickly
indeed. And yet, almost the happiest hours to me were those
when we were all silent, and the new scenes passed rapidly
before me. It was a great rest to live for a time on what I saw%
and cease from thought, and remembrance, and inward quest-
ionings altogether. For have I not been commanded this journey
by my superiors, so that in accordance with my vow of obedi-
ence, my one duty at present is to travel ; and therefore what
pleasure it chances to bring I must not refuse.
We spent some hours in Niiremberg. The quaint rich carvings
of many of the houses were beautiful. There also we saw
Albrecht Durer's paintings, and heard Hans Sachs, the shoe-
maker and poet, sing his godly German h3rmns. And as we
crossed the Bavarian plains, the friendliness of the simple
peasantry made up to us for the sameness of the country.
Near Heidelberg again I fancied myself once more in the
Fritz's Story, 133
Thiiringian forest, especially as we rested in the convent of
Erbach in the Odenwald. Again the familiar forests and green
valleys with their streams were around me. I fear Elsb and tlie
others will miss the beauty of the forest-covered hills around
Eisenach, when they remove to Wittemberg, which is situated
on a barren, monotonous flat. About this time they will be
moving!
Brother Martin has held many disputations on theological
and philosophical questions in the University of Heidelberg;
but I, being only a novice, have been free to wander whither I
would.
This evening it was delightful to stand in the woods of the
Elector Palatine's castle, and from among the oaks and delicate
birches rustiing about me, to look down on the hills of the
Odenwald folding over each other. Far up among them I traced
the narrow, quiet Neckar, issuing from the silent depths of the
forest; while on the other side, below the city, it wound on
through the plain to the Rhine, gleaming here and there with
the gold of sunset or the cold grey light of the evening. Beyond,
far off, I could see the masts of ships on the Rhine.
I scarcely know why, the river made me think of life, of mine
and Brother Martin's. Already he has lefl the shadow of the
forests. Who can say what people his life will bless, what sea
it will reach, and through what perils? Of this I feel suik^ it
will matter much to many what its course shall be. For me it
is otherwise. My life, as far as earth is concerned, seems closed,
ended; and it can matter little to any, henceforth, through
what regions it passes, if only it reaches the ocean at last, and
ends, as they say, in the bosom of God. If only we could be
sure that God guides the course of our lives as he does that of
rivers ! And yet, do they not say that some rivers lose them-
selves in sandwastes, and others trickle meanly to the sea
through lands they have desolated into untenantable marshes ?
Black Forest, May 14, 151a
Brother Martin and I are now fairly on our pilgrimage alone,
walking all day, begging our provisions and our lodgings, which
he sometimes repays by performing a mass in the parish church,
1 34 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
or by a promise of reciting certain prayers or celebrating masses
on the behalf of our benefactors, at Rome.
These are, indeed, precious days. My whole frame seems
braced and revived by the early rising, the constant movement
in the pure air, the pressing forward to a definite point.
But more, infinitely more than this, my heart seems reviving.
I begin to have a hope and see a light which, until now, I scarcely
deemed possible.
To encourage me in my perplexities and conflicts, Brother
Martin unfolded to me what his own had been. To the storm
of doubt, and fear, and anguish in that great heart of his, my
troubles seems like a passing spring shower. Yet to me they
were tempests which laid my heart waste. And God, Brother
Martin believes, does not measure his pity by what our sorrows
are in themselves, but what they are to us. Are we not all chil-
dren, little children, in his sight?
" I did not learn my divinity at once," he said, " but was con-
strained by my temptations to search deeper and deeper; for no
man without trials and temptations can attain a true understand-
ing of the Holy Scriptures. St Paul had a devil that beat him
with fists, and with temptations drove him diligently to study
the Holy Scriptures. Temptations hunted me into the Bible,
wherein I sedulously read; and thereby, God be praised, at length
attained a true understanding of it."
He then related to me what some of these temptations were;
the bitter disappointment it was to him to find that the cowl,
and even the vows and the priestly consecration, made no
change in his heart ; that Satan was as near him in the cloister
as outside, and he no stronger to cope with him. He told me
of his endeavours to keep every minute rule of the order, and
how the slightest deviation weighed on his conscience. It
seems to have been like trying to restrain a fire by a fence of
willows, or to guide a mountain torrent in artificial windings
through a flower-garden, to bind his fervent nature by these
vexatious rules. He was continually becoming absorbed in
some thought or study, and forgetting all the rules, and then
painfully he would turn back and retrace his steps; sometimes
spending weeks in absorbing study, and then remembering he
Fritz* s Story, 135
had neglected his canonical hours, and depriving himself of
sleep for nights to make up the missing prayers.
He fasted, disciplined himself, humbled himself to perform
the meanest offices for the meanest brother; forcibly kept sleep
from his eyes wearied with study, and his mind worn out with
conflict, until every now and then Nature avenged herself by
laying him unconscious on the floor of his cell, or disabling him
by a fit of illness.
But all in vain; his temptations seemed to grow stronger, his
strength less. Love to God he could not feel at all; but in his
secret soul the bitterest questioning of God, who seemed to tor-
ment him at once by the law and the gospel. He thought of
Christ as the severest judge, because the most righteous; and
the very phrase, " the righteousness of God," was torture to him.
Not that this state of distress was continual with him. At
times he gloried in his obedience, and felt that he earned re-
wards from God by performing the sacrifice of the mass, not
only for himself, but for others. At times, also, in his circuits,
after his consecration, to say mass in the villages around Erfurt,
he would feel his spirits lightened by the variety of the scenes
he witnessed, and would be greatly amused at the ridiculous
mistakes of the village choirs; for instance, their chanting the
" Kyrie" to the music of the " Gloria.
Then, at other times, his limbs would totter with terror when
he offered the holy sacrifice, at the thought that he, the sacri-
ficing priest, yet the poor, sinful Brother Martin, actually stood
before God " without a Mediator."
At his first mass he had difficulty in restraining himself from
flying from the altar so great was his awe and the sense -of his
unworthiness. Had he done so, he would have been excom-
municated.
Again, there were days when he performed the services with
some satisfaction, and would conclude with saying, " O Lord
Jesus, I come to thee, and entreat thee to be pleased with
whatsoever I do and suffer in my order; and I pray thee that
these burdens and this straitness of my rule and religion may
be a full satisfaction for all my sins."
Yet then again, the dread would come that perhaps he had
1 36 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
inadvertently omitted some word in the service, such as
"enim" or "aetemum," or neglected some prescribed genu-
flexion, or even a signing of the cross ; and that thus, instead
of offering to God an acceptable sacrifice in the mass, he had
committed a grievous sin.
From such terrors of conscience he fled for refuge to some of
his twenty-one patron saints, or oftener to Mary, seeking to
touch her womanly heart, that she might appease her Son. He
hoped that by invoking three saints daily, and by letting his
body waste away with fastings and watchings, he should satisfy
the law, and shield his conscience against the goad of the driver.
But it all availed him nothing. The further he went on in this
way, the more he was terrified.
And then he related to me how the light broke upon his
heart; slowly, intermittently, indeed; yet it has dawned on him.
His day may often be dark and tempestuous; but it is day, and
not night.
Dr. Staupitz was the first who brought him any comfort
The Vicar-General received his confession not long after he
entered the cloister, and from that time won his confidence,
and took the warmest interest in him. Brother Martin fre-
quently wrote to him; and once he used the words, in reference
to some neglect of the rules which troubled his conscience,
"Oh, my sins, my sins!" Dr. Staupitz replied, "You would
be without sin, and yet you have no proper sins. Christ for-
gives true sins, such as parricide, blasphemy, contempt of God,
adultery, and sins like these. These are sins indeed. You
must have a register in which stand veritable sins, if Christ is to
help you. You would be a painted sinner, and have a painted
Christ as a Saviour. You must make up your mind that Christ
is a real Saviour, and you a real sinner."
These words brought some light to Brother Martin, but the
darkness came back again and again; and tenderly did Dr.
Staupitz s)rmpathize with him and rouse him Dr. Staupitz, and
that dear aged confessor, who ministered also so lovingly to me.
Brother Martin's great terror was the thought of the righteous-
ness of God, by which he had been taught to understand his
inflexible severity in executing judgment on sinners.
Fritz's Story, 137
Dr. Staupitz and the confessor explained to him that the
righteousness of God is not against the sinner who believes in
the Lord Jesus Christ, but ^r him ^not against us to condemn,
but for us to justify.
He began to study the Bible with a new zest. He had had
the greatest longing to understand rightly the Epistle of St.
Paul to the Romans, but was always stopped by the word
" righteousness" in the first chapter and seventeenth verse,
where Paul says the righteousness of God is revealed by the
gospel. " I felt very angry," he said, " at the term, * righteous-
ness of God;' for, after the manner of all the teachers, I was
taught to understand it in a philosophic sense, of that righteous-
ness by which God is just and punisheth the guilty. Though
I had lived without reproach, I felt myself to be a great sinner
before God, and was of a very quick conscience, and had not
confidence in a reconciliation with God to be produced by any
work or satisfaction or merit of my own. For this cause t had
in me no love of a righteous and angry God, but secretly hated
him, and thought within myself. Is it not enough that God has
condemned us to everlasting death by Adam's sin, and that we
must suffer so much trouble and misery in this life? Over and
above the terror and threatening of the law, must he needs in-
crease by the gospel our misery and anguish, and, by the preach-
ing of the same, thunder against us his justice and fierce
wrath 1 My confused conscience ofttimes did cast me into fits
of anger, and I sought day and night to make out the meaning
of Paul; and at last I came to apprehend it thus: Through the
gospel is revealed the righteousness which availeth with God
a righteousness by which God, in his mercy and compassion,
justifieth us; as it is written, * The just shall live by faiths
Straightway I felt as if I were bom anew; it was as if I had
found the door of Paradise thrown wide open. Now I saw the
Scriptures altogether in a new light ^ran through their whole
contents as far as my memory would serve, and compared
them and found that this righteousness was the more surely
that by which he makes us righteous, because everything
agreed thereunto so well The expression, * the righteousness
of God,' which I so much hated before, became now dear and
138 Chronicles of the Scfionberg-Cotta Family,
precious my darling and most comforting word. That pas-
sage of Paul was to me the true door of Paradise."
Brother Martin also told me of the peace the words, " I be-
lieve in the forgiveness of sins," brought to him, as the aged
confessor had previously narrated to me; for, he said, the devil
often plucked him back, and, taking the very form of Christ,
sought to terrify him again with his sins.
As I listened to him, the conviction came on me that he had
indeed drunk of the well-spring of everlasting life, and it seemed
almost within my own reach; but I said
"Brother Martin, youi: sins were mere transgressions of
human rules, but mine are different" And I told him how I
had resisted my vocation. He replied
" The devil gives heaven to people before they sin; but after
they sin, brings their consciences into despair. Christ deals
quite in the contrary way, for he gives heaven after sins com-
mitted, and makes troubled consciences joyful."
Then we fell into a long silence, and from time to time, as I
looked at the calm which reigned on his rugged and massive
brow, and felt the deep light in his dark eyes, the conviction
gathered strength
" This solid rock on which that tempest-tossed spirit rests is
Truth!"
His lips moved now and then, as if in prayer, and his eyes
were lifted up from time to time to heaven, as if his thoughts
found a home there.
After this silence, he spoke again, and said
" The gospel speaks nothing of our works, or of the works of
the law, but of the inestimable mercy and love of God towards
most wretched and miserable sinners. Our most merciful
Father, seeing us overwhelmed and oppressed with the curse
of the law, and so to be holden under the same that we could
never be delivered from it by our own power, sent his only Son
into the world, and laid upon him the sins of all men, saying,
*Be thou Peter, that denier; Paul, that persecutor, blasphemer,
and cruel oppressor; David, that adulterer; that sinner that did
eat the apple in Paradise; that thief that hanged upon the cross;
and briefly, be thou the person that hath committed the sins of
Fritz's Story. 139
all men, and pay and satisfy for them.' For God trifleth not with
us, but speaketh earnestly and of great love, that Christ is the
Lamb of God who beareth the sins of us all. He is just, and
the justifier of him that belie veth in Jesus."
I could answer nothing to this, but walked along pondering
these words. Neither did he say any more at that time.
The sun was sinking low, and the long shadows of the pine
trunks were thrown athwart our green forest-path, so that we
were glad to find a charcoal-burner's hut, and to take shelter
for tlie night beside his fires.
But that night I could not sleep; and when all were sleeping
around me, I rose and went out into the forest.
Brother Martin is not a man to parade his inmost conflicts
before the eyes of others, to call forth their sympathy or their
idle wonder. He has suffered too deeply and too recently for
that. It is not lightly that he has unlocked the dungeons and
torture-chambers of his past life for me. It is as a fellow-
suffierer and a fellow-soldier, to show me how I also may escape
and overcome.
It is surely because he is to be a hero and a leader of men
that God has caused him to tread these bitter ways alone.
A new meaning dawns on old words for me. There is no-
thing new in what he says ; but it seems new to me, as if God
had spoken it first to-day ; and all things seem made new in its
light.
God, then, is more earnest for me to be saved than I am to
be saved !
" He so loved the world, that he gave his Son.
He loved not saints, riot penitents, not the religious, not
those who love him; but "the woridy^ secular men, profane
men, hardened rebels, hopeless wanderers and sinners !
He gave not a mere promise, not an angel to teach us, not a
world to ransom us, but his Son his Only-begotten !
So much did God love the world, sinners, me ! I believe
this ; I must believe it ; I believe on him who says it. How
can I then do otherwise than rejoice ?
Two glorious visions rise before me and begin to fill the
world and all my heart with joy.
140 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
I see the Holiest, the Perfect, the Son made the victim, the
lamb, the curse, willingly yielding himself up to death on the
cross for me.
I see the Father inflexible in justice yet delighting in mercy
accepting him, the spotless Lamb whom he had given ; raising
him from the dead ; setting him on his right hand. Just, beyond
all my terrified conscience could picture him, he justifies me
the sinner.
Hating sin as love must abhor selfishness, and life death, and
purity corruption, he loves me the selfish, the corrupt, the
dead in sins. He gives his Son, the Only-begotten, for me; he
accepts his Son, the spotless Lamb, for me ; he forgives me ; he
acquits me ; he will make me pure.
The thought overpowered me. I knelt among the pines and
spoke to Him who hears when we have no words, for words
failed me altogether then.
Munich, May x8.
All the next day and the next that joy lasted. Every twig,
and bird, and dew-drop spoke in parables to me ; sang to me
the parable of the son who had returned from the far country,
and as he went towards his father^s house prepared his confes-
sion; but never finished the journey, for the father met him
when he was yet a great way off; and never finished the con-
fession, for the father stopped his self-reproaches with embraces.
And on the father's heart what child could say, " Make me
as one of thy hired servants 1"
I saw His love shining in every dew-drop on the grassy forest
glades; I heard it in the song of every bird; I felt it in every
pulse.
I do not know that we spoke much during those days. Bro-
ther Martin and I.
I have known something of love; but I have never felt a love
that so fills, oven^'helms, satisfies, as this love of God. And
when first it is " thou and I" between God and the soul, for a
time, at least, the heart has little room for other fellow-
ship.
But then came doubts and questionings. Whence came they 1
Brother Martin said from Satan.
Fritz's Story, 141
" The devil is a wretched, unhappy spirit," said he, " and he
loves to make us wretched."
One thing that began to trouble me was, whether I had the
right kind of faith. Old definitions of faith recurred to me, by
which faith is said to be nothing unless it is informed with
charity and developed into good works, so that wlien it saith we
are justified by faith, the part is taken for the whole ^and it means
by faith, also hope, charity, all the graces, and all good works.
But Brother Martin declared it meaneth simply believing.
He said,
"Faith is an almighty thing, for it giveth glory to God,
which is the highest service that can be given to him. Now,
to give glory to God, is to believe in him ; to count him true,
wise, righteous, merciful, almighty. The chiefest thing God
requireth of man is, that he giveth unto him his glory and divi-
nity; that is to say, that he taketh him not for an idol, but for
God; who regardeth him, heareth him, showeth mercy unto him,
and helpeth him. For faith saith thus, * I believe thee, O God,
when thou speakest.*"
But our great wisdom, he says, is to look away from all these
questionings, ^from our sins, our works, ourselves, to Christ,
who is our righteousness, our Saviour, our all.
Then at times other things perplex me. If faith is so simple,
and salvation so free, why all those orders, rules, pilgrimages,
penances ?
And to these perplexities we can neither of us find any
answer. But we must be obedient to the Church. What we
cannot understand we must receive and obey. This is a monk's
duty, at least
- Then at times another temptation comes on me. " If thou
hadst known of this before," a voice says deep in my heart, " thou
couldst have served God joyfully in thy home, instead of pain-
fully in the cloister; couldst have helped thy parents and Elsfe, and
spoken with Eva on these things, which her devout and simple
heart has doubtless received already." But, alas I I know too
well what tempter ventures to suggest that name to me, and I
say, " Whatever might have been, malicious spirit, nmv I am a
religious, a devoted man, to whom it is perdition to draw back !''
142 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
Yet, in a sense, I seem less separated from my beloved ones
during these past days.
There is a brotherhood, there is a family, more permanent
than the home at Eisenach, or even the Order of St Augustine,
in which we may be united still. There is a home in which,
perhaps, we may yet be one household again.
And meantime, God may have some little useful work for me
to do here, which in his presence may make life pass as quickly
as this my pilgrimage to Rome in Brother Martin's company.
Benedictine Monastery in Lombaxdt.
God has given us during these last days to see, as I verily
believe, some glimpses into Eden. The mountains with snowy
summits, like the white steps of His throne; the rivers which
flow from them and enrich the land ; the crystal seas, like glass
mingled with fire, when the reflected snow-peaks bum in the
lakes at dawn or sunset ; and then this Lombard plain, watered
with rivers which make its harvests gleam like gold; this gamer
of God, where the elms or chestnuts grow among the golden
maize, and the vines festoon the trees, so that all the land seems
garlanded for a perpetual holy day. We came through the Tyrol
by Fiissen, and then struck across by the mountains and the
lakes to Milan.
Now we are entertained like princes in this rich Benedictine
abbey. Its annual income is 36,000 florins. " Of eating and
feasting," as Brother Martin says, " there is no lack ;" for 12,000
florins are consumed on guests, and as large a sum on building.
The residue goeth to the convent and the brethren.
They have received us poor German monks with much hon-
our, as a deputation from the great Augustinian Order to the
Pope.
The manners of these southern people are very gentle and
courteous ; but they are lighter in their treatment of sacred
things than we could wish.
The splendour of the furniture and dress amazes us ; it is
difficult to reconcile it with the vows of poverty and renuncia-
tion of the world. But I suppose they regard the vow of poverty
as binding nqt on the community, but only on the individual
Fritz's Story. 143
monk. It must, however, at the best, be hard to live a severe
and ascetic life amidst such luxuries. Many, no doubt, do not
try.
The tables are supplied with the most costly and delicate
viands ; the walls are tapestried ; the dresses are of fine silk ;
the floors are inlaid with rich marbles.
Poor, poor splendours, as substitutes for the humblest home !
Bologna, yune.
We did not remain long in the Benedictine monastery, for
this reason : Brother Martin, I could see, had been much per-
plexed by their luxurious living; but as a guest, had, I suppose,
scarcely felt at liberty to remonstrate, until Friday cape, when,
to our amazement, the table was covered with meats and fruits,
and all kinds of viands, as on any other day, regardless not only
of the rules of the Order, but of the common laws of the whole
thurch.
He would touch none of these dainties ; but not content with
this silent protest, he boldly said before the whole company,
"The Church and the Pope forbid such things !"
We had then an opportunity of seeing into what the smooth-
ness of these Itahan manners can change when ruffled.
The whole brotherhood burst into a storm of indignation.
Their dark eyes flashed, their white teeth gleamed with scornful
and angry laughter, and their voices rose in a tempest of
vehement words, many of which were unintelligible to us.
" Intruders," " barbarians," " coarse and ignorant Germans,"
and other biting epithets, however, we could too well under-
stand.
Brother Martin stood hke a rock amidst the torrent, and
threatened to make their luxury and disorder known at Rome.
When the assembly broke up, we noticed the brethren gather
apart in small groups, and cast scowling glances at us when we
chanced to pass near.
That evening the porter of the monastery came to us privately,
and warned us that this convent was no longer a safe resting-
place for us.
Whether this was a friendly warning, or merely a device of
144 Chronicles of the Sckdnberg-Cotta Family.
the brethren to gd. rid of troublesome guests, I know not; but
we had no wish to linger, and before the next day dawned we
crept in the darkness out of a side gate into a boat, which
we found on the river which flows beneath the walls, and
escaped.
It was delightful to-day winding along the side of a hill, near
Bologna, for miles, under the flickering shade of trellises covered
with vines. But Brother Martin, I thought, looked ill and weary.
Bologna.
Thank God, Brother Martin is reviving again. He has been
6n the very borders of the grave.
Whether it was the scorching heat through which we have
been travelling, or the malaria, which affected us with catarrh
one night when we slept with our windows open, or whether the
angry monks in the Benedictine Abbey mixed some poison with
our food, I know not ; but we had scarcely reached this place
when he became seriously ill.
As I watched beside him I learned something of the anguish
he passed through at our convent at Erfurt. The remembrance
of his sins and the terrors of God's judgment rushed on his mind,
weakened by suffering. At times he recognised that it was the
hand of the evil one which was keeping him down. "The
devil," he would say, " is the accuser of the brethren, not Christ
Thou, Lord Jesus, art my forgiving Saviour!" And then he
would rise above the floods. Again his mind would bewilder
itself with the unfathomable ^the origin of evil, the relation ot
our free will to God's almighty will.
Then I ventured to recall to him the words of Dr. Staupitz
he had repeated to me : " Behold the wounds of Jesus Christ,
and then thou shalt see the counsel of God clearly shining forth.
We cannot comprehend God out of Jesus Christ. In Christ
you will find what God is, and wliat he requires. You will find
him nowhere else, whether in heaven or on earth."
It was strange to find myself, untried recruit that I am, thus
attempting to give refreshment to such a veteran and victor as
Brother Martin; but when the strongest are brought into single
combats such as these, which must be single, a feeble hand may
Fritz's Story. 145
bring a draught of cold water to revive the hero between the
pauses of the fight
The victory, however, can only be won by the combatant
himself; and at length Brotlier Martin fought his way through
once more, and as so often happens, just when the fight seemed
hottest It was with an old weapon he overcame " The just
shall live by faiths
Once more the words which have helped him so often, which
so frequently he has repeated on this journey, came with power
to his mind. Again he looked to the crucified Saviour; again
he believed in Him triumphant and ready to forgive on the
throne of grace; and again his spirit was in the light
His strength also soon began to return; and in a few days we
are to be in Rome.
ROMB.
The pilgrimage is over. The holy city is at length
reached.
Across burning plains, under trellised vine-walks on the hill-
sides, over wild, craggy mountains, through valleys green with
chestnuts, and olives, and thickets of myrtle, and fragrant with
lavender and cistus, we walked, until at last the sacred towers
and domes burst on our sight, across a reach of the Campagna
^the city where St. Paul and St. Peter were martyred the
metropolis of the kingdom of God.
The moment we came in sight of the city Brother Martin
prostrated himself on the earth, and, lifting up his hands to
heaven, exclaimed
" Hail, sacred Romel thrice sacred for the blood of the mar-
tyrs here shed."
And now we are within the sacred walls, lodged in the Augus-
tinian monastery, near to the northern gate, tiirough which we
entered, called by the Romans the " Porta del Popolo."
Already Brother Martin has celebrated a mass in the convent
church.
And to-morrow we may kneel where apostles and mart5rr3
stood !
We may perhaps even see the holy father himself I
Are we indeed nearer heaven here 1
10
146 Chronicles of the SchUnberg-Cotta Family.
It seems to me as if I felt God nearer that night in the Black
Forest
There is so much tumult, and movement, and porop around
us in toe great city.
When, however, I feel it more ^miliar and home-like, perhaps
it wilt seem more heaven-like.
IX.
(gist's Storg,
EisBNACH, A^ril
HE last words I shall write in our dear old lumber-room,
Fritz's and mine ! I have little to regret in it now,
however, that our twilight talks are over for ever. We
leave early to-morrow morning for Wittemberg. It is strange to
look out into the old street, and think how all will look exactly
the same there to-morrow evening, ^the monks slowly pacing
along in pairs, the boys rushing out of school, as they are now,
the maid-servants standing at the doors with the baby in their
arms, or wringing their mops, ^and we gone. How small a
blank people seem to make when they are gone, however large
the space they seemed to fill when they were present, except,
indeed, to two or three hearts ! I see this with Fritz. It seemed
to me our little world must fall when he, its chief pillar, was
withdrawn. Yet now everything seems to go on the same as
before he became a monk, except, indeed, with the mother
and Eva and me.
The mother seems more and more like a shadow gliding in
and out among us. Tenderly, indeed, she takes on her all she
can of our family cares; but to family joys she seems spiritless
and dead. Since she told me of the inclination she thinks she
neglected in her youth towards the cloister, I understand her
better, ^the trembling fear with which she receives any good
thing, and the hopeless submission with which she bows to
every trouble, as to the blows of a rod always suspended over
her, and only occasionally mercifully withheld from striking.
In the loss of Fritz the blow has fallen exactly where she
would feel it most keenly. She had, I feel sure, planned another
life for him. I see it in the peculiar tenderness of the tie which
148 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
binds her to Eva. She said to me to-day, as we were packing
up some of Fritz's books, " The sacrifice I was too selfish to
make myself my son has made for me. O Els^, my child, give
at once, at once^ whatever God demands of you. What he
demands must be given at last; and if only wrung out firom us
at last, God only knows with what fearful interest the debt may
have to be paid."
The words weigh on me like a curse. I cannot help feeling
sometimes, as I know she feels always, that the family is under
some fatal spell.
But oh, how terrible the thought is that this is the way God
exacts retribution ! ^a creditor, exacting to the last farthing for
the most trifling transgression ; and if payment is delayed, taking
life or limb, or what is dearer, in exchange. I cannot bear to
think of it. For if my mother is thus visited for a mistake, for
neglecting a doubtful vocation, my pious, sweet mother, what
hope is there for me, who scarcely pass a day without having to
repent of saying some sharp word to those boys (who certainly
are often very provoking), or doing what I ought not, or omit-
ting some religious duty, or at least without envying some one
who is richer, or inwardly murmuring at our lot, even some-
times thinking bitter thoughts of our father and his discoveries!
Our dear father has at last arranged and fitted in all his
treasures, and is the only one, except the children, who seems
thoroughly pleased at the thought of our emigration. All day he
has been packing, and unpacking, and repacking his machines
into some specially safe comers of the great waggon which
cousin Conrad Cota has lent us for our journey.
Eva, on the other hand, seems to belong to this world as
little as the mother. Not that she looks depressed or hopeless.
Her face often perfectly beams with peace ; but it seems entirely
independent of ever3rthing here, and is neither ruffled by the
difficulties we encounter, nor enhanced when anything goes a
little better. I must confess it rather provokes me, almost as
much as the boys do. I have serious fears that one day she
will leave us, like Fritz, and take refuge in a convent And yet
I am sure I have not a fault to fina with her. I suppose that
is exactly what our grandmother and I feel so provoking'
Elsi's Story, 149
Lately she has abandoned all her Latin books for a German
book entitled " Theologia Teutsch," or "Theologia Germanica,"
which Fritz sent us before he left the Erfurt convent on his pil-
grimage to Rome. This book seems to make Eva very happy :
but as to me, it appears to me more unintelligible than Latin.
Although it is quite different from all the other religious books
I ever read, it does not suit me any better. Indeed, it seems
as if I never should find the kind of religion that would suit me.
It all seems so sublime and vague, and so far out of my reach ;
only fit for people who have time to climb the heights ; whilst
my path seems to lie in the valleys, and among the streets, and
amidst all kinds of little every-day secular duties and cares,
which religion is too lofty to. notice.
I can only hope that some day at the end of my life God will
graciously give me a little leisure to be religious and to prepare
to meet him, or that Eva's and Fritz's prayers and merits will
avail for me.
WiTTEMBKRG, May x^xo.
We are beginning to get settled into our new home, which is
in the street near the University buildings. Martin Luther, or
Brother Martin, has a great name here. They say his lectures
are more popular than any one's. And he also frequently
preaches in the city church. Our grandmother is not pleased
with the change. She calls the town a wretched mud village,
and wonders what can have induced the Electors of Saxony to
fix their residence and found a university in such a sandy desert
a-s this. She supposes it is very much like the deserts of
Arabia.
But Christopher and I think differently. There are several
very fine buildings here, beautiful churches, and the University,
and the Castle, and the Augustinian Monastery; and we have
no doubt that in time the rest of the town will grow up to them.
I have heard our grandmother say that babies with features too
large for their faces often prove the handsomest people when
they grow up to their features. And so, no doubt, it will be
with Wittemberg, which is at present certainly rather like an
infant with the eyes and nose of a full-grown man. The mud
walls and low cottages with thatched roofs look strangely out
ISO Chronicles of the Schimberg-Cotta Family,
of keeping with the new buildings, the Electoi^s palace and
church at the western end, the city church in the centre, and
the Augustinian cloister and university at the eastern extremity,
near the Elster gate, close to which we live.
It is true that there are no forests of pines, and wild hills,
and lovely green valleys here, as around Eisenach. But qui
grandmother need not call it a wilderness. The white sand-
hills on the north are broken with little dells and copses ; and
on the south, not two hundred rods from the town, across a
heath, flows the broad, rapid Elbe.
The great river is a delight to me. It leads one*s thoughts
back to its quiet sources among the mountains, and onwards to
its home in the great sea. VVe had no great river at Eisenach,
which is an advantage on the side of Wittemberg. And then
the banks are fringed with low oaks and willows, which bend
affectionately over the water, and are delightful to sit amongst
on summer evenings.
If I were not a little afraid of the people ! The father does
not like Eva and me to go out alone. The students are rather
wild. This year, however, they have been forbidden by the
rector to carry arms, which is some comfort. But the townV
people also are warlike and turbulent, and drink a great deal
of beer. There are one hundred and seventy breweries in the
place, although there are not more than three hundred and
fifty houses. Few of the inhabitants send their children to
school, although there are five hundred students fi'om all parts
of Germany at the university.
Some of the poorer people, who come from the country
around to the markets, talk a language I cannot understand.
Our grandmother says they are Wends, and that this town is
the last place on the borders of the civilized world. Beyond
it, she declares, there are nothing but barbarians and Tartars.
Indeed, she is not sure whether our neighbours themselves are
Christians.
St Boniface, the great apostle of the Saxons, did not extend
his labours further than Saxony; and she says the Teutonic
knights who conquered Prussia and the regions beyond us, were
only Christian colonists living in the midst of half-heathen
Elsi's Story, 151
savages. To me it is rather a gloomy idea, to think that
between Wittemberg and the Turks and Tartars, or even the
savages in the Indies beyond, which Christopher Columbus has
discovered, there are only a few half-civilized Wends, living in
those wretched hamlets which dot the sandy heaths around
the town.
But the father says it is a glorious idea, and that, if he were
only a little younger, he would organize a land expedition, and
traverse the country until he reached the Spaniards and the
Portuguese, who sailed to the same point by sea.
" Only to think," he says, " that in a few weeks, or months
at the utmost, we might reach Cathay, El Dorado, and even
Atlantis itself, where the houses are roofed and paved with
gold, and return laden with treasures!" It seems to make him
feel even his experiments with the retorts and crucibles in which
he is always on the point of transmuting lead into silver, to be
tame and slow processes. Since we have been here, he has for
the time abandoned his alchemical experiments, and sits for
hours with a great map spread before him, calculating in the
most accurate and elaborate manner how long it would take to
reach the new Spanish discoveries by way of Wendish Prussia.
" For," he remarks, " if I am never able to carry out the scheme
myself, it may one day immortalize one of my sons, and enrich
and ennoble the whole of our family !"
Our journey from Eisenach was one continual f^te to the
children. For my mother and the baby now two years old
we made a couch in the waggon, of the family bedding. My
grandmother sat erect in a nook among the furniture. Little
Thekla was enthroned like a queen on a pile of pillows, where
she sat hugging her own especial treasures, her broken doll,
the wooden horse Christopher made for her, a precious store of
cones and pebbles from the forest, and a very shaggy dis-
reputable foundling dog which she has adopted, and can by no
means be persuaded to part with. She calls the dog Nix, and
is sure that he is always asking her with his wistful eyes to
teach him to speak, and give him a soul. With these, her
household gods, preserved to her, she showed little feeling at
parting from the rest of our Eisenach world.
152 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
The father was equally absorbed with his treasures, his folios,,
and models^ and instruments, which he jealously guarded.
Eva had but one inseparable treasure, the volume of the
" Theologia Germanica," which she has appropriated.
The mother's especial thought was the baby. Chriemhild
was overwhelmed with the parting with Polux, who was left
behind with Cousin Conrad Cotta; and Atlantis was so wild
with delight at the thought of the new world and the new life,
from which she was persuaded all the cares of the old were to
be extracted for ever, that, had it not been for Christopher and
me, I must say the general interests of the fami y would have
been rather in the backgroimd.
For the time there was a truce between Christopher and me
concerning "Reinecke Fuchs," and our various diflferences.
All his faculties which have been so prolific for mischief-
seemed suddenly turned into useful channels, like the mis-
chievous elves of the farm and hearth, when they are capriciously
bent on doing some poor human being a good turn. He
scarcely tried my temper once during the whole journey. Since
we reached Wittemberg, however, I cannot say as much. I feel
anxious about the companions he has found among the students,
and often, often I long that Fritz's religion had led him to
remain among us, at least until the boys had grown up.
I had nerved myself beforehand for the leave-taking with the
old friends and the old home, but when the moving actually
began, there was no time to think of anything but packing in
the last things which had been nearly forgotten, and arranging
ever)' one in their places. I had not even a moment for a last
look at the old house, for at the instant we turned the comer,
Thekla and her treasures nearly came to an untimely end by
the downfall of one of the father's machines; which so dis
couraged Thekla, and excited our grandmother. Nix, and the
baby, that it required considerable soothing to restore every
one to equanimity; and, in the meantime, the comer of the
street had been turned, and the dear old house was out of sight
I felt a pang, as if I had wronged it, the old home which had
sheltered us so many years, and been the silent witness of so
many joys, and cares, and sorrows !
Elsk's Story. 153
We had few adventures during the first day, except that
Thekla's peace was often broken by the difficulties in which
Nix*s self-confident but not very courageous disposition fi-e-
quently involved him with the cats and dogs in the villages,
and their proprietors.
The first evening in the forest was delightfiil. We encamped
in a clearing. Sticks were gathered for a fire, round which we
arranged such beading and fiimiture as we could unpack, and
the children were wild with delight at thus combining serious
household work, with play, whilst Christopher foddered and
tethered the horses.
After our meal we began to tell stories, but our grandmother
positively forbade our mentioning the name of any of the forest
sprites, or of any evil or questionable creature whatever.
In the night I could not sleep. All was so strange and
grand around us, and it did seem to me that there were wailings
and sighings and distant meanings among the pines, not quite
to be accounted for by the wind. I grew rather uneasy, and al
length lifted my head to see if any one else was awake.
Opposite me sat Eva, her face lifted to the stars, her hands
clasped, and her lips moving as if in prayer. I felt her like a
guardian angel, and instinctively drew nearer to her.
"Eva," I whispered at last, "do you not think there are
rather strange and unaccountable noises around us ? I wonder
if it can be true that strange creatures haunt the forests."
"I think there are always spirits around us, Cousin Elsb,"
she replied, "good and evil spirits prowling around us, or
ministering to us. I suppose in the solitude we feel them
nearer, and perhaps they are."
I was not at all re-assured.
"Eva," I said, ^*I wish you would say some prayers; I feel
afraid I may not think of the right ones. But are you really
not at all afraid ?"
"Why should I bel" she said softly; "God is nearer us
always than all the spirits, good or evil, nearer and greater
than all. And he is the Supreme Goodness. I like the soli-
tude, Cousin Elsb, because it seems to lift me above all the
creatures to the One who is all and in all. And I like the wild
1 54 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
forests," she continued, as if to herself, "because God is the
only owner there, and I can feel more unreservedly, that we,
and the creatures, and all we most call our own, are His, and
only His. In the cities, the houses are called after the names
of men, and each street and house is divided into little plots,
of each of which some one says, ' It is mine.' But here all is
visibly only God's, undivided, common to all. There is but
one table, and that is His ; the creatures live as free pensioners
on His bounty."
" Is it then sin to call anything our own)" I asked
"My book says it was this selfishness that was the cause
of Adam's fall," she replied. " Some say it was because Adam
ate the apple that he was lost, or fell ; but my book sa3rs it
was 'because of his claiming something for his own; and
because of his saying, I, mine, me, and the like.' "
" That is very difficult to understand." I said, " Am I aot to
say, My mother, my father, my Fritz % Ought I to love every
one the same because all are equally God's % If property is sin,
then why is stealing sin? Eva, this religion is quite above and
beyond me. It seems to me in this way it would be almost as
wrong to give thanks for what we have, as to covet what we
have not, because we ought not to think we have anything.
It perplexes me extremely."
I lay down again, resolved not to think any more about it
Fritz and I proved once, a long time ago, how useless it is for
me, at least, to attempt to get beyond the Ten Commandments.
But trying to comprehend what Eva said so bewildered me, that
my thoughts soon wandered beyond my control altogether. I
heard no more of Eva or the winds, but fell into a sound
slumber, and dreamt that Eva and an angel were talking beside
me all night in Latin, which I felt I ought to understand, but
of course could not.
The next day we had not been long on our journey when, at
a narrow part of the road, in a deep valley, a company of
horsemen suddenly dashed down from a castle which towered
on our right, and barred our further progress with serried
lances.
" Do you belong to Erfurt 1" asked the leader, turning our
Elsi's Story. 155
horses' heads, and pushing Christopher aside with the butt end
of his gun.
" No," said Christopher, " to Eisenach,"
" Give way, men," shouted the knight to his followers ; " we
have no quarrel with Eisenach. This is not what we are wait-
ing for."
The cavaliers made a passage for us, but a young knight who
seemed to lead them rode on beside us for a time.
" Did you pass any merchandise on your road 1" he asked of
Christopher, using the form of address he would have to a
peasant
" We are not likely to pass anything," replied Christopher,
not very courteously, " laden as we are."
" What is your lading ]" asked the knight.
" All our worldly goods," replied Christopher, curtly.
"What is your name, friend, and where are you bound 1"
" Cotta," answered Christopher. " My father is the director
of the Electors printing press at the new University of
Wittemberg."
"Cotta!" rejoined the knight more respectfully, "a gopd
burgher name 3" and saying this he rode back to the waggon,
and saluting our father, surveyed us all with a cool freedom, as
if his notice honoured us, until his eye lighted on Eva, who was
sitting with her arm round Thekla, soothing the frightened
child, and helping her to arrange some violets Christopher had
gathered a few minutes before. His voice lowered when he saw
her, and he said,
" This is no buigher maiden, surely ? May I ask your name,
fair Fraiilein ?" he said, doffing his hat and addressing Eva.
She made no reply, but continued arranging her flowers,
without changing feature or colour, except that her hp curled
and quivered slightiy
"The Fraiilein is absorbed with her bouquet; would that we
were nearer our Schloss, that I might ofifer her flowers more
worthy of her handling."
" Are you addressing me ]" said Eva at length, raising her
large eyes, and fixing them on him with her gravest expression;
"I am no Fraiilein, I am a burgher maiden; but if I were a
156 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
queen, any of God's flowers would be fair enough for me. And
to a true knight," she added, " a peasant maiden is as sacred
as a queen."
No one ever could trifle with that earnest expression of Eva's
face. It was his turn to be abashed. His effrontery failed him
altogether, and he murmured, " I have merited the rebuke.
These flowers are too fair, at least for me. If you would bestow
one on me, I would keep it sacredly as a gift of my mother's,
or as the relics of a saint."
" You can gather them anywhere in the forest," said Eva ;
but little Thekla filled both her little hands with violets, and
gave them to him.
" You may have them all if you like," she said ; " Christopher
can gather us plenty more."
He took them carefully from the child's hand, and, bowing
low, rejoined his men who were in front He then returned,
said a few words to Christopher, and with his troop retired to
some distance behind us, and followed us till we were close to
Erfurt, when he spurred on to my father's side, and saying rapidly,
" You will be safe now, and need no further convoy," once more
bowed respectfully to us, and rejoining his men, we soon lost
the echo of their horse-hoofs, as they galloped back through the
forest.
"What did the knight say to you, Christopher?" I asked,
when we dismounted at Erfurt that evening.
" He said that part of the forest was dangerous at present,
because of a feud between the knights and the burghers, and if
we would allow him, he would be our escort until we came in
sight of Erfurt."
" That, at least, was courteous of him," I said.
" Such courtesy as a burgher may expect of a knight," re-
joined Christopher, uncompromisingly; "to insult us without
provocation, and then, as a favour, exempt us from their own
illegal oppressions! But women are always fascinated with
what men on horseback do."
" No one is fascinated with any one," I replied. For it
always provokes me exceedingly when that boy talks in that
way about women. And our grandmother interposed, " Don't
Elsi's Story. 157
dispute, children; if your grandfather had not been unfortunate,
you would have been of the knights' order yourselves, therefore
it is not for you to run down the nobles."
" I should never have been a knight," persisted Christopher,
" or a priest or a robber." But it was consolatory to my grand-
mother and me to consider how exalted our position would have
been, had it not been for certain little unfortunate hindrances.
Our grandmother never admitted my father into the pedi-
gree.
At Leipsic we left the children, while our grandmother, our
mother, Eva, and I wejit on foot to see Aunt Agnes at the con-
vent of Nimptschen, whither she had been transferred, some
years before, from Eisenach.
We only saw her through the convent grating. But it seemed
to me as if the voice, and manner, and face were entirely un-
changed since that last interview when she terrified me as a
child by asking me to become a sister, and abandon Fritz.
Only the voice sounded to me even more like a nuiffled bell
used only for funerals, especially when she said, in reference to
Fritz's entering the cloister, " Praise to God, and the blessed
Virgin, and all the saints. At last, then. He has heard my
unworthy prayers; one at least is saved !"
A cold shudder passed over me at her words. Had she then,
indeed, all these years been praying that our happiness should
be ruined and our home desolated] And had God heard herl
Was the fatal spell, which my mother feared was binding us,
after all nothing else than Aunt Agnes's terrible prayers ]
Her face looked as lifeless as ever, in the folds of white linen
which bound it into a regular oval. Her voice was metalUc
and lifeless; the touch of her hand was impassive and cold as
marble when we took leave of her. My mother wept, and said,
" Dear Agnes, perhaps we m.ay never meet again on earth."
" Perhaps not," was the reply.
" You will not forget us, sister?" said my mother.
" I never forget you," was the reply, in the same deep, low,
firm, irresponsive voice, which seemed as if it had never
vibrated to anything more human than an organ playing
Gregorian chants.
IS8 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
And the words echo in my heart to this instant, like a kneH
She never forgets us.
Nightly in her vigils, daily in church and cell, she watches
over us, and prays God not to let us be too happy.
And God hears her, and grants her prayers. It is too clear
He does ! Had she not been asking Him to make Fritz a
monk? and is not Fritz separated from us for ever?
"How did you like the convent, Eval" I said to her that
night when we were alone.
" It seemed very still and peaceful," she said. " I think
one could be very happy there. There would be so much
time for prayer. One could perhaps more easily lose self
there, and become nearer to God."
" But what do you think of Aunt Agnes ?"
" I felt drawn to her. I think she has suflfered."
" She seems to be dead alike to joy or suffering," I said.
" But people do not thus die without pain," said Eva very
gravely.
Our house at Wittemberg is small. From the upper windows
we look over the city walls, across the heath, to the Elbe, which
gleams and sparkles between its willows and dwarf oaks. Be-
hind the house is a plot of neglected ground, which Christopher
is busy at his leisure hours trenching and spading into an herb-
garden. We are to have a few flowers on the borders of the
straight walk which intersects it, daffodils, pansies, roses, and
sweet violets and gilliflowers, and wallflowers. At the end of the
garden are two apple trees and a pear tree, which had shed their
blossoms just before we arrived, in a carpet of pink and white
petals. Under the shade of these I carry my embroidery frame,
when the house work is finished; and sometimes little Thekla
comes and prattles to me, and sometimes Eva reads and sings
to me. I cannot help regretting that lately Eva is so absorbed
with that " Theologia Germanica." I cannot understand it as
well as I do the Latin h3rmns when once she has translated
them to me ; for these speak of Jesus the Saviour, who left the
heavenly home and sat weary by the way seeking for us; or of
Mary his dear mother; and although sometimes they tell of
wrath and judgment, at all events I know what it means. But
Elsi's Story. 159
this other hook is all to me one dazzling haze, without sun,
or moon, or stars, or heaven, or earth, or seas, or anything
distinct, ^but all a blaze of indistinguishable glory, which is
God; the One who is all a kind of ocean of goodness, in
which, in some mysterious way, we ought to be absorbed. But
I am not an ocean, or any part of one; and I cannot love an
ocean, because it is infinite, or unfathomable, or all-sufiicient,
or anything else.
My mother's thought of God, as watching lest we should be
too happy and love any one more than himself, remembering
the mistakes and sins of youth, and delaying to punish them
until just the moment when the punishment would be most
keenly felt, is dreadful enough But even that is not to me so
bewildering and dreary as this all-absorbing Being in Eva's book.
The God my mother dreads has indeed eyes of severest justice,
and a frown of wrath against the sinner; but if once one could
learn how to please him, the eyes might smile, the frown might
pass. It is a countenance; and a heart which might meet ours !
But when Eva reads her book to me, I seem to look up into
heaven and see nothing but heaven flight, space, infinity, and
still on and on, infinity and light; a moral Ught, indeed ^per-
fection, purity, goodness; but no eyes I can look into, no heart
to meet mine none whom I could speak to, or touch, or see I
This evening we opened our window and looked out across
the heath to the Elbe.
The town was quite hushed. The space of sky above us
over the plain looked so large and deep. We seemed to see
range after range of stars beyond each other in the clear air.
The only sound was the distant, steady rush of the broad river,
which gleamed here and there in the starlight.
Eva was looking up with her calm, bright look. "Thine!"
she murmured, " all this is Thine ; and we are Thine, and Thou
art here ! How much happier it is to be able to look up and feel
there is no barrier of our own poor ownership between us and
Him, the Possessor of heaven and earth ! How much poorer
we should be if we were lords of this land, like the Elector, and
if we said, 'All this is mine!' and so saw only I and mine in it
all, instead of God and God's!"
i6o Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
"Yes," I said, "if we ended in saying I iind mine; but I
should be very thankful if God gave us a little more out of his
abundance, to use for our wants. And yet, how much better
things are with us than they were! the appointment of my
father as director of the Elector's printing establishment, in-
stead of a precarious struggle for ourselves; and this embroidery
of minel It- seems to me, Eva, sometimes, we might be a
happy family yet."
" My book," she replied thoughtfully, " says we shall never
be truly satisfied in God, or truly free, unless all things are one
to us, and One is all, and something and nothing are alike. I
suppose I am not quite truly free, Cousin Els^, for I cannot
like this place quite as much as the old Eisenach home."
I began to feel quite impatient, and I said, " Nor can I or
any of us ever feel any home quite the same again, since Fritz
is gone. But as to feeling something and nothing are alike,
I never can, and I will never try. One might as well be dead
at once."
"Yes," said Eva gravely; "I suppose we shall never com-
prehend it quite, or be quite satisfied and free, until we die."
We talked no more that night; but I heard her singing one
of her favourite h)nims :*
In the fount of life perennial the parched heart its thirst would slake.
And the souU in flesh imprisoned, longs her prison-walls to break,
Exile, seeking, sighing, yearning in her Fatherland to wake.
When with cares oppressed and sorrows, only groans her grief can tell.
Then she contemplates the glory which she lost when first she fell :
Memory of the vanished good the present evil can but swell
Who can utter what the pleasures and the peace unbroken are
Where arise the pearly mansions, shedding silvery light afar
Festive seats and golden roofs, which glitter like the evening star?
Wholly of fair stones most piteious are those radiant structures made ;
With pure gold, like glass transparent, are those shining streets inlaid ;
Nothing that defiles can enter, nothing that can soil or fade.
* Ad perennis vitae fontem mens sitivit arida,
Claustra camis praestb frangi clausa quaerit anima,
Gliscit, ambit, electatur, extil fhii patrifi.
&c. &c. &c
The translation only is given above.
Elsi's Story, i6i
Stormy winter, burning summer, rage within those regions never ;
But perpetual bloom of roses, and unfading spring for ever :
Lilies gleam, the crocus glows, and dropping balms their scents deliver ;
Honey pure, and greenest pastures, this the land of promise is :
Liquid odoturs soft distilling, perfumes breathing on the breeze ;
Fruits immortal cluster always on the leafy, fadeless trees.
There no moon shines chill and changing, there no stars with tvdnkling ray,
For the Lamb of that blest city is at once the sun and day ;
Night and time are known no logger, day shall never fade away.
There the saints, like suns, are radiant^^-like the sun at daw^ they glow ;
CrownM victors after conflict, all their joys together flow ;
And, secure, they count the .battles where diey fought the prostrate foe.
Every stain of flesh is cleansed, every strife is left behind ;
Spiritual are their bodies, perfect unity of ;nind ;
Dwelling in deep peace for ever, no offence or grief they find.
Putting off their mortal vesture, in their Source their souls they steep,
Truth by actual vision learning, on its form their gaze they keep,
Drinking from the living Fountain draughts of living waters deep.
Time, with all its alternations, enters not those hosts among,
Glorious, vrakeful, blest, no shade of chance or diange o*er them is flung;
Sickness cannot touch the deathless, nor old age the ever young.
There their being is eternal, ^things that cease have ceased to be ;
All corruption there has perished, (there they flourish strong and free ;
Thus mortality is swallowed up kA life eternally.
Nought from them is hidden, knowing Him to whom all thiitgs are known
An the spirit's deep recesses, sinless, to each other shown,
Unity of will and pturpose, heart and mind for ever one.
Diverse as their varied labours the rewards to each that fall ;
But Love, what she loves in others evermore her own doth call :
Thus the several joy of each becomes the common joy of all
Where the body is, there ever are the eai^es gathered ;
For die saints and for the angels one most blessed feast is spread,
Citizens of either country living on the self-same bread.
Ever filled and ever seeking, what they have they still desire
Hunger there shall fret them never, nor satiety shall tire,
Still enjoying whilst aspiring, in their joy they still aspire.
There the new song, new for ever, those melodious voices sing,
Ceaseless streams of fullest music through those blessed regions ring !
CrownM victors ever bringing praises worthy of the King !
Blessed who the King of Heaven in his beauty thus behold.
And, beneath his throne rejoicing, see the imiverse imfold,
Sun and moon, and stars and planets, radiant in his light muroUed.
11
1 62 Chronicles of t/ie Sclwnberg-Cotta Family.
( Jhrist, the Pftlm of faithful victors ! of that city make me free :
When my waxfiue shall be ended, to its mansions lead thou me ;
Grant me, with its happy inmates, sharer of thy gifts to be I
Let thy soldier, still contending, still be with thy strength supplied :
Thou wilt not deny the quiet when the arms are laid asjde :
Make me meet with thee for ever in that country to abia) I
Pauwm }Vt^
Wittemberg has been very full this week. There have been
great mystery-plays in the City Church ; and in the Electoral
Church {Schloss Kirchi) all the relics have been solemnly ex-
hibited. Crowds of pilgrims have come from all the neighbour-
ing villages, Wendish and Saxon. It has been very unpleasant
to go about the streets, so much beer has been consumed; and
the students and peasants have had frequent encounters. It is
certainly a comfort that there are large indulgences to be ob-
tained by visiting the relics, for the pilgrims seem to need a
great deal of indulgence.
The sacred mystery-plays were very magnificent The Judas
was wonderfully hatefiU, ^hunchbacked, and dressed like a rich
Jewish miser; and the devils were dreadful enough to terrify the
children for a year. Little Thekla was dressed in white, with
gauze wings, and made a lovely angel ^and enjoyed it very
much. They wanted Eva to represent one of the holy women
at the cross, but she would not Indeed she nearly wept at the
thought, and did not seem to like the whole ceremony at alL
" It all really happened!" she said; "they really crucified Him!
And He is risen, and living in heaven; and I cannot bear to
see it performed, like a fable."
The second day there was certainly more jesting and satire
than I liked. Christopher said it reminded him of "Reinecke
Fuchs."
In the middle of the second day we missed Eva, and when
in a few hours I came back to the house to seek her, I found
her kneeling by our bed-side, sobbing as if her heart would
break. I drew her towards me, but I could not discover that
anything at all was the matter, except that the young knight
who had stopped us in the forest had bowed very respectfully
to her, and had shown her a few dried violets, which he said he
should always keep in remembrance of her and her words.
Elsi's Story. 163
It did not seem to me so unpardonable an offence, and I
said so.
'^ He had no right to keep anything for my sake !" she sobbed.
" No one will ever have any right to keep anything for my sake ;
and if Fritz Had been here, he would never have allowed it"
" Little Eva," I said, *' what has become of your * Theologia
Teutschi' Your book says you are to take all things meekly,
and be indifferent, I suppose, alike to admiration and reproach."
" Cousin Elsfe," said Eva very gravely, rising and standing erect
before me with clasped hands, "I have not learned the 'Theologia'
through well yet, but I mean to try. The world seems to me
very evil, and very sad. And there seems no place in it for an
orphan girl like me. There is no rest except in being a wife or
a nun. A wife I shall never be, and therefore, dear, dear Els^,''
she continued, kneeling down again, and throwing her arms
around me, "I have just decided I will go to the convent
where Aunt Agnes is, and be a nun."
I did not attempt to remonstrate; but the next day I told the
mother, who said gravely, "She will be happier there, poor
child! We must let her go."
But she became pale as death, her lip quivered, and she
added, "Yes, God must have the choicest of all. It is in
vain indeed to fight against Him!" Then, fearing she might
have wounded me, she kissed me and said, " Since Fritz left,
she has grown so very dear ! But how can I murmur when my
loving Elsfe is spared to us]"
" Mother," I said, " do you think Aunt Agnes has been pray-
ing again for this?"
"Probably!" she replied, with a startled look. "She did
look very earnestly at Eva."
" Then, mother," I replied, " I shall write to Aunt Agnes at
once, to tell her that she is not to make any such prayers for
you or for me. For, as to me, it is entirely useless. And if
you were to imitate St Elizabeth, and leave us, it would break
all our hearts, and the family would go to ruin altogether."
" What are you thinking of, Elsfel" replied my mother meekly.
" It is too late indeed for me to think of being a saint I can
never hope for anything beyond this, that God in his great
164 Oironicles of tJu Schonberg-Cotta Family.
mercy may one day pardon me my sins, and receive me as the
lowest of his creatures, for the sake of his dear Son who died
upon the cross. What could you mean by my imitating St
Elizabeth?"
I felt re-assured, and did not pursue the subject, fearing it
might suggest what I dreaded to my mother.
WlTTEMBERC, Juue X4.
And SO Eva and Fritz are gone, the two religious ones of the
family. They are gone into their separate convents, to be
made saints, and have left us all to struggle on in the world
without them, with all that helped us to be less earthly taken
from us. It seems to me as if a lovely picture of the Holy
Mother had been removed from the dwelling-room since Eva
has gone, and instead we had nothing left but family portraits,
and paintings of common earthly things; or as if a window
opening towards the stars had been covered by a low ceiling.
She was always like a little bit of heaven among us.
I miss her in our little room at night. Her prayers seemed
to hallow it. I miss her sweet, holy songs at my embroidery;
and now T have nothing to turn my thoughts from the arrange-
ments for to-morrow, and the troubles of yesterday, and the
perplexities of to-day. I had no idea how I must have been
leaning on her. She always seemed so child-like, and so above
my petty cares and in practical things I certainly understood
much more; and yet, in some way, whenever I talked an3rthing
over with her, it always seemed to take the burden away, ^to
change cares into duties, and clear my thoughts wonderfully,
just by lightening my heart. It was not that she suggested
what to do; but she made me feel things were working for good,
not for harm ^that God in some way ordered them ^and then
the right thoughts seemed to come to me naturally.
Our mother, I am afraid, grieves as much as she did for Fritz;
but she tries to hide it, lest we should feel her ungrateful for
the love of her children.
I have a terrible dread sometimes that Aunt Agnes will get
her prayers answered about our precious mother also, ^if not
in one way, in another. She looks so pale and spiritless.
Elsi's Story, 165
Christopher has just returned from taking Eva to the convent
He says she shed many tears when he left her; which is a com-
fort. I could not bear to think that something and nothing
were alike to her yet ! He told me also one thing, which has
made me rather anxious. On the journey, Eva begged him to
take care of our father^s sight, which, she said, she thought had
been failing a little lately. And just before they separated she
brought him a little jar of distilled eye-water, which the nuns
were skilful in making, and sent it to our father with Sister Ave's
love.
Certainly my father has read less lately; and now I think of
it, he has asked me once or twice to find things for him, and to
help him about his models, in a way he never used to do.
It is strange that Eva, with those deep, earnest, quiet eyes,
which seemed to look about so little always saw before any of
us what every one wanted. Darling child I she will remember
us, then, and our little cares. And she will have some eye-water
to make, which will be much better for her than reading all day
in that melancholy " Theologia Teutsch."
But are we to call our Eva, Ave ] She gave these lines of
the hymn in her own writing to Christopher, to bring to me.
She often used to sing it, and has explained the words to me :
** Ave, maris stella
Dei mater alma
Atque semper virgo
Felix coeli porta.
Snmens illud A vc
Gabrielis ore
Funda nos in pace
Mutans nomen Etce.**
It is not an uncommon name, I know, with nuns.
Well, dearly as I loved the old name, I cannot complain of
the change. Sister Ave will be as dear to me as Cousin Eva,
only a little bit further off, and nearer heaven.
Her living so near heaven, while she was with us, never seemed
to make her further off, but nearer to us all.
Now, however, it cannot, of course, be the same.
Our grandmother remains steadfast to the baptismal name.
1 66 Chronicles of the Sclionherg-Cotia Family.
" Receiving that Ave from the lips of Gabriel, the blessed
Mother transformed the name of our mother Eva ! And now
our child Eva is on her way to become Caint Ave, God's angel
Ave in heaven !
The young knight we met in the forest has called at our house
to-day.
I could scarcely command my voice at first to tell him where
our Eva is, because I cannot help partly blaming him for her
leaving us at last
"At Nimptschen ! " he said ; " then she was noble, after all.
None but maidens of noble houses are admitted there."
" Yes," I said, " our mother's family is noble."
** She was too heavenly for this world ! " he murmured. " Her
face, and something in her words and tones, have haunted me
like a holy vision, or a church hymn, ever since I saw her."
I could not feel as indignant with the young knight as Eva
did. And he seemed so interested in our father's models, that
we could not refuse him permission to come and see us again.
Yes, our Eva was, I suppose, as he says, too religious and too
heavenly for this world.
Only, as so many of us have, after all, to live in the world,
unless the world is to come to an end altogether, it would be a
great blessing if God had made a religion for us poor, secular
people, as well as one for the monks and nuns.
X.
Rome, Augustinian Comvent.
OLY as this dty necessarily must be, consecrated by-
relics of the church's most holy dead, consecrated
by the presence of her living Head, I scarcely think
reli^on is as deep in the hearts of these Italians as of our poor
Germans in the cold north.
But I may mistake; feeling of all kinds manifests itself in such
different ways with different characters.
Certainly the churches are thronged on all great occasions,
and the festas are brilliant. But the people seem rather to re-
gard them as holidays and dramatic entertainments, than as the
solemn and sacred festivals we consider them in Saxony. This
morning, for instance, I heard two women criticizing a proces-
sion in words such as these, as far as the little Italian I have
picked up enabled me to understand them :
"Ah, Nina mia, the angels are nothing to-day; you should
have seen our Lucia last year ! Every one said she was heavenly.
If the priests do not arrange it better, people will scarcely care
to attend. Besides, the music was execrable."
" Ah, the nuns of the Cistercian convent understand how to
manage a ceremony. They have ideas! Did you see their
Bambino last Christmas 1 Such lace ! and the cradle of tortoise-
shell, fit for an emperor, as it should be ! And then their robes
for the Madonna on her fetes ! Cloth of gold embroidered with
pearls and brilliants worth a treasury!"
" Yes," replied the other, lowering her voice, " I have been
told the history of tiiose robes. A certain lady who was power-
ful at the late Holy Father's court, is said to have presented the
1 68 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
dress in which she appeared on some state occasion to the nuns, *
just as she wore it."
" Did she become a penitent, then 1"
"A penitent 1 1 do not know; such an act of penitence would
purchase indulgences and masses to last at least for some time."
Brother Martin and I do not so much affect these gorgeous
processions* These Italians, with their glorious skies and the
rich colouring of their beautiful land require more splendour
in their religion than our German eyes can easily gaze on un-
dazzled.
It rather perplexed us to see the magnificent caparisons of
the horses of the cardinals; and more especially to behold the
Holy Father sitting on a fair palfrey, bearing the sacred Host
In Germany, the loftiest earthly dignity prostrates itself low be-
fore that Ineffable Presence.
But my mind becomes confused. Heaven forbid that I should
call the Vicar of Christ an earthly dignitary ! Is he not the re-
presentative and oracle of God on earth ?
For this reason, ^no doubt in painful contradiction to the
reverent awe natural to every Christian before the Holy Sacra-
ment, ^the Holy Father submits to sitting enthroned in the
church, and receiving the body of our Creator through a golden
tube presented to him by a kneeling cardinal.
It must be very difficult for him to separate between the office
and the person. It is difficult enough for us. But for the human
spirit not yet made perfect to receive these religious honours
must be overwhelming.
Doubtless, at night, when the holy father humbles himself in
solitude before God, his self-abasement is as much deeper than
that of ordinary Christians as his exaltation is greater.
I must confess that it is an inexpressible relief to me to retire
to the solitude of my cell at night, and pray to Him of whom
Brother Martin and I spoke in the Black Forest; to whom the
homage of the universe is no burden, because it is not mere pro-
stration before an office, but adoration of a person. " Holy,
holy, holy, I-ord God Almighty : heaven and earth are full of
thy glory."
Holiness^ to which almightiness is but an attribute, Holy
Fritz's Story. 169
One, who hast loved and given thine Holy One for a sinful
world, miserere nobis I
We have diligently visited all the holy relics, and offered
prayers at every altar at which especial indulgences are procured,
for ourselves and others.
Brother Martin once said he coidd almost wish his father
and mother (whom he dearly loves) were dead, that he might
avail himself of the privileges of this holy city to deliver their
souls from puigatory.
He says masses whenever he can. But the Italian priests are
often impatient with him because he recites the office so slowly.
I heard one of them say, contemptuously, he had accomplished
thirty masses while Brother Martin only finished one. And
more than once they hurry him forward, saying '' Passa ! passa ! ''
There is a strange disappointment in these ceremonies to me,
and, I think, often to him. I seem to expect so much more,
not more pomp, of that there is abundance; but when the cere-
mony itself begins, to which all the pomp of music, and proces-
sions of cavaliers, and richly-robed priests, and costly shrines,
are mere preliminary accessories, it seems often so poor ! The
kernel inside all this gorgeous shell seems to the eye of sense
like a little poor withered dust
To the eye ti sense/ Yes, I foiget. These are the splen-
dours oifaithy which faith only can behold.
To-day we gazed on the Veronica, ^the holy impression left
by our Sstviouf s face on the cloth St Veronica presented to him
to wipe his brow, bowed under the weight of the cross. We
had looked forward to this sight for da3rs; for seven thousand
^ years of indulgence from penance are attached to it
But when the moment x:ame Brother Martin and I could see
nothing but a black board hung with a cloth, before which another
white cloth was held. In a few minutes this was withdrawn,
and the great moment was over, the glimpse of the sacred thing
on which hung the fate of seven thousand years ! For some
time Brother Martin and I did not speak of it I feared there
had been some imperfection in my looking, which might affect
the seven thousand years; but observing his countenance rathet
I/O Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
downcast, I told my difficulty, and found that he also had seen
nothing but a white cloth.
The skulls of St Peter and St Paul perplexed us still more,
because they had so much the appearance of being carved in
wood. But in the crowd we could not approach very close;
and doubtless Satan uses devices to blind the eyes even of the
faithful
One relic excited my amazement much ^the halter with which
Judas hanged himself ! It could scarcely be termed a holy relic.
I wonder who preserved it, when so many other precious things
are lost Scarcely the apostles; perhaps the scribes, out of ma-
lice.
The Romans, I observe, seem to care little for what to us is
the kernel and marrow of these ceremonies ^the exhibition of
the holy relics. They seem more occupied in comparing the
pomp of one year, or of one church, with another.
We must not, I suppose, measure the good things do us by
our own thoughts and feelings, but simply accept it on the testi-
mony of the Chiurch.
Otherwise I might be tempted to imagine that the relics of
pagan Rome do my spirit more good than gazing on the sacred
ashes or bones 'of martyrs or apostles. When I walk over the
heaps of shapeless ruin, so many feet beneath which lies buried
the grandeur of the old imperial city; or when I wander among
the broken arches of the gigantic Coliseum, where the martyrs
fought with wild beasts, great thoughts seem to grow naturally
in my mind, and I feel how great truth is, and how little empires
are.
I see an empire solid as this Coliseum crumble into ruins as
undistinguishable as the dust of those streets, before the word
of that once despised Jew of Tarsus, " in bodily presence weak,"
who was beheaded here. Or, again, in the ancient Pantheon,
when the music of Christian chants rises among the shadowy
forms of the old vanquished gods painted on the walls, and the
light streams down, not from painted windows in the walls, but
from the glowing heavens above, every note of the service
echoes like a peal of triumph, and fills my heart with thankful*
ness.
Fritz^s Story, 171
But my happiest hours here are spent in the church of my
patron, St Sebastian, without the walls, built over the ancient
catacombs.
Countless martyrs, they say, rest in peace in these ancient
sepulchres. They have not been opened for centuries; but they
are believed to wind in subterranean passages far beneath the
ancient dty. In those dark depths the ancient Church took
refuge from persecution; there she laid her martyrs; and there,
over their tombs, she chanted hymns of triumph, and held com-
munion with Him for whom they died. In that church I spend
hours. I have no wish to descend into those sacred sepulchres,
and piy among the graves the resurrection trump will open soon
enough. I like to think of the holy dead, lying undisturbed
and quiet there; of their spirits in Paradise; of their faith trium-
phant in the city which massacred them.
No doubt they also had their perplexities, and wondered why
the wicked triumph, and sighed to God, " How long, O Lord,
how long!"
And yet I cannot help wishing I had lived and died among
them, and had not been bom in times when we see Satan appear,
not in his genuine hideousness, but as an angel of light
For of the wickedness that prevails in this Christian Rome,
alas, who can speak ! of the shameless sin, the violence, the pride,
the mockery of sacred things!
In the Coliseum, in the Pantheon, in the Church of St Sebas-
tian, I feel an atom ^but an atom in a solid, God-governed
world, where truth is mightiest; insignificant in myself as
the little mosses which flutter on these ancient stones; but yet
a little moss on a great rock which cannot be shaken the rock
of God's providence and love. In the busy city, I feel tossed
hither and thither on a sea which seems to rage and heave at its
own wild will, without aim or meaning ^a sea of human passion.
Among the ruins, I commune with the spirits of our great and
holy dead, who live unto God. At the exhibition of the sacred
relics, my heart is drawn down to the mere perishable dust,
decorated with the miserable pomps of the little men of the day.
And then I return to the convent and reproach myself for
censoriousness, and unbelief, and pride, and try to remember
172 Chronicles of tlte Schonberg-Cotta Family.
that the benefits of these ceremonies and exhibitions are only
to be understood by faith, and are not to be judged by inward
feeling, or even by their moral results.
The Church, the Holy Father, solemnly declare that pardons
and blessings incalculable, to ourselves and others, flow from so
many Paternosters and Aves recited at certain altars, or from
seeing the Veronica or the other relics. I have performed the
acts, and I must at my peril believe in their efficac}'.
But Brother Martin and I are often sorely discouraged at the
wickedness we see and hear around us. A few da3rs since he
was at a feast with several prelates and great men of the Church,
and the fashion among them seemed to be to jest at all that is
most sacred. Some avowed their disbelief in one portion of the
faith, and some in others; but all in a light and laughing way,
as if it mattered little to any of them. One present related how
they sometimes substituted the words /flf df, d panis manebis
in the mass, instead of the words of consecration, and then
amused themselves with watching the people adore what was,
after all, no consecrated Host, but a mere piece of bread.
The Romans themselves we have heard declare, that if there
be a hell, Rome is built over it. They have a couplet,
" Vivere qui sancte vultis, discedite Roma :
Omnia hie esse licent, non licet esse probum." *
O Rome ! in sacredness as Jerusalem, in wickedness as Babylon,
how bitter is the conflict that breaks forth in the heart at seeing
holy places and holy character thus disjoined ! How overwhel-
ming the doubts that rush back on the spirit again and again,
as to the very existence of holiness or truth in the universe, when
we behold the deeds of Satan prevailing in the very metropolis
of the kingdom of God !
RoMK, Anguxt.
Mechanically, we continue to go through every detail of the
prescribed round of devotions, believing against experience, and
hoping against hope.
To-day Brother Martin went to accomplish the ascent of the
r
[" Ve who would live holily, depart from Rome : all things are allowed here, except to
be upright."]
Fritz's Story, 173
Santa Scala the Holy Staircase ^which once, they say, formed
part of Pilate's house. I had crept up the sacred steps before,
and stood watching him as, on his knees, he slowly mounted
step after step of the hard stone, worn into hollows, by the knees
of penitents and pilgrims. An indulgence for a thousand years
indulgence from penance is attached to this act of devotion.
Patiently he crept half way up the staircase, when, to my
amazement, he suddenly stood erect, lifted his face heavenward,
and, in another moment, turned and walked slowly down again.
He seemed absorbed in thought when he rejoined me ; and
it was not until some time afterwards that he told me the
meaning of this sudden abandonment of his purpose.
He said that, as he was toiling up, a voice, as if from heaven,
seemed to whisper to him the old, well-known words, which had
been his battle-cry in so many a victorious combat, " The Just,
shall livi by faith,"
He seemed awakened, as if from a nightmare, and restored
to himself. He dared not creep up another step; but, rising
from his knees, he stood upright, like a man suddenly loosed
from bdnds and fetters, and, with the firm step of a freeman,
he descended the Staircase and walked from the place.
August Z51Z.
To-night there has been an assassination. A corpse was found
near, our convent gates, pierced with many wounds. But no one
seems to think much of it. Such things are constantly occurring,
they say; and the only interest seems to be as to the nature of
the quarrel which led to it.
"A prelate is mixed up with it," the monks whisper; " one of
the late Pope's family. It will not be investigated."
But these crimes of passion seem to me comprehensible and
excusable, compared with the spirit of levity and mockery which
pervades all classes. In such acts of revenge you see human
nature in ruins; yet in the ruins you can trace something of the
ancient dignity. But in this jesting, scornful spirit, which mocks
at sacredness in the service of God, at virtue in women, and at
truth and honour in men, all traces of God's image seem crushed
and trodden into shapeless, incoherent dust.
174 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
From such thoughts I often take refuge in the Campagna, and
feel a refreshment in its desolate spaces, its solitary wastes, its
traces of material ruin.
The ruins of empires and of imperial edifices do not depress
me. The immortality of the race and of the soul rises grandly
in contrast In the Campagna we see the ruins of imperial
Rome; but in Rome we see the ruin of our race and nature.
And what shall console us for that, when the presence of all that
Christians most venerate is powerless to arrest it?
Were it not for some memories of a home at Eisenach, on
which I dare not dwell too much, it seems at times as if the
very thought of purity and truth would fade from my heart
Rome, August.
Brother Martin, during the intervals of the business of his
Order, which is slowly winding its way among^the intricacies ot
the Roman courts, is turning his attention to the study of Hebrew,
under the Rabbi Elias Levita.
I study also with the Rabbi, and have had the great benefit,
moreover, of hearing lectures from the Byzantine Greek pro-
fessor, Argyropylos.
Two altogether new worlds seem to open to me through these
men, one in the far distances of time, and the other in those
of space.
The Rabbi, one of the race which is a by-word and a scorn
among us from boyhood, to my surprise seems to glory in his
nation and his pedigree, with a pride which looks down on the
antiquity of our noblest lineages as mushrooms of a day. I had
no conception that underneath the misery and the obsequious
demeanour of the Jews such lofty feelings existed. And yet,
what wonder is it! Before Rome was built, Jerusalem was a
sacred and royal city; and now that the empire and the people
of Rome have passed for centuries, this nation, fallen before
their prime, still exists to witness their fall.
I went once to the door of their synagogue, in the Ghetto.
There were no shrines in it, no altars, no visible symbols of
sacred things, except the roll of the Law, which was reverently
taken out of a sacred treasury and read aloud. Yet there seemed
Fritz* s Story, 175
something sublime in this symbolizing of the presence of God
only by a voice reading the words which, ages ago, He spoke to
their prophets in the Holy Land.
"Why have you no altar?' I asked once of one of the
Rabbis.
" Our altar can only be raised when our temple is built,"
wras the reply. " Our temple can only rise in the city and on
the hill of our God. But," he continued, in a low, bitter tone,
" when our altar and temple are restored, it will not be to offer
incense to the painted image of a Hebrew maiden."
I have thought of the words often since. But were they not
blasphemy) I must not dare recall them.
But those Greeks! they are Christians, and yet not of our
commimion. As Argyropylos speaks, I understand for the first
time that a Church exists in the East, as ancient as the Church
of Western Europe, and as extensive, which acknowledges the
Holy Trinity and the Creeds, but owns no allegiance to the
Holy Father the Pope.
The world is much larger and older than Elsb or I thought
at Eisenach. May not God's kingdom be much larger than
some think at Rome?
In the presence of monuments which date back to days before
Christianity, and of men who speak the language of Moses, and,
with slight variations, the language of Homer, oiu: Germany
seems in its infancy indeed. Would to God it were in its infancy,
and that a glorious youth and prime may succeed, when these
old, decrepit nations are worn out and gone 1
Yet Heaven forbid that I should call Rome decrepit Rome,
on whose brow rests, not the perishable crown of earthly do-
minion, but the tiara of the kingdom of God.
September,
The mission which brought Brother Martin hither is nearly
accomplished. We shall soon ^we may at a day's notice leave
Rome and return to Germany.
And what have we gained by our pilgrimage?
A store of indulgences beyond calculation. And knowledge;
eyes opened to see good and evil. Ennobling knowledge!
glimpses into rich worlds of human life and thought, which
176 Chronicles of the Schbnberg-Cotta Family,
humble the heart in expanding the mind. Bitter knowledge!
illusions dispelled, aspirations crushed. We have learned that
the heart of Christendom is a moral plague-spot; that spiritual
privileges and moral goodness have no kind of connection, be-
cause where the former are at the highest perfection, the latter
is at the lowest point of degradation.
We have learned that on earth there is no place to which the
heart can turn as a sanctuary, if by a sanctuary we mean not
merely a refuge from the punishment of sin, but a place in which
to grow holy.
In one sense, Rome may, indeed, be called the sanctuary of
the world! It seems as if half the criminals in the world had
found a refuge here.
When I think of Rome in future as a city of the living, I shall
think of assassination, treachery, avarice, a spirit of universal
mockety, which seems only the foam over an abyss of universal
despair; mockery of all virtue, based on disbelief in all
truth.
It is only as a city of the dead that my heart will revert to
Rome as a holy place. She has indeed built, and built beau-
tifully, the sepulchres of the prophets.
Those hidden catacombs, where the holy dead rest, far under
the streets of the city,^-too far for traffickers in sacred bones to
disturb them, among these the imagination can rest, lik^ those
beatified ones, in peace.
The spiritual life of Rome seems to be among her dead.
Among the living all seems spiritual corruption and death.
May Gkd and the saints have mercy on me if I say what is
sinful. Does not the scum necessarily rise to the surface) Do
not acts of violence and words of mockery necessarily make
more noise in the world than prayers % How do I know how
many humble hearts there are in those countless convents there,
that secretly offer acceptable incense to God, and keep the
perpetual lamp of devotion burning in the sight of God? .
How do I know what deeper and better thoughts lie hidden
under that veil of levityl Only I often feel that if God had not
made me a believer through his word, by the voice dl Brother
Martin in the Black Forest, Rome might too easily have made
Fritz* s Story, 177
me an infidel. And it is certainly true, that to be a Cliristian
at Rome as well as elsewhere, (indeed, more than elsewhere)
one must breast the tide, and must walk by faith, and not by
sight
But we have performed the pilgrimage. We have conscien-
tiously visited all the shrines; we have recited as many as
possible of the privileged acts of devotion. Paters and Aves, at
the privileged shrines.
Great benefits mtist result to us from these things.
But benefits of what kind? Moral? How can that be]
When shall I efface from my memory the polluting words and
works I have seen and heard at Rome? Spiritual? Scarcely;
if by spiritual we are to understand a devout mind, joy in God,
and nearness to him. When, since that night in the Black
Forest, have I found prayer so difficult, doubts so overwhelm-
ing, the thoughts of God and heaven so dim, as at Rome?
The benefits, then, that we have received, must be ecclesias-
tical, ^those that the Church promises and dispenses. ' And
what are these ecclesiastical benefits? Pardon? But is it not
written that God gives this freely to those who believe on his
Son? Peace? But is not that the legacy of the Saviour to all
who love him?
What then? Indulgences. Indulgences from what? From
the temporal consequences of sin? Too obviously not these.
Do the ecclesiastical indulgences save men from disease, and
sorrow, and death ? Is it, then, from the eternal consequences
of sin? Did not the Lamb of God, dying for us on the cross,
bear our sins there, and blot them out? What then remains,
which the indulgences can deliver from? Penance and purga-
tory. What then are penance and purgatory? Has penance
in itself no curative effect, that we can be healed of our sins by
escaping as well as by performing it? Have purgatorial fires
no purifying power, that we can be purified as much by repeat-
ing a few words of devotion at certain altars as by centuries of
agony in the flames?
All these questions rise before me from time to time, and I
find no reply. If I mention them to my confessor, he says,
" These are temptations of the DeviL You must not listen
12
1 7S Chronicles of the Sclionberg-Cotta Family.
to them. They are vain and presumptuous questions. There
are no keys on earth to open these doors."
Are there any keys on earth to lock them again, when once
they have been opened?
" " You Germans," others of the Italian priests say, " take
everything with such desperate seriousness. It is probably
owing to your long winters and the heaviness of your north-
ern climate, which must, no doubt, be very depressing to the
spirits." *
Holy Mary ! and these Italians, if life is so light a matter to
riiem, will not they also have one day to take death "with
desperate seriousness," and judgment and eternity, although
there will be no long winters, I suppose, and no heavy northem
climate, to depress the spirits in that other world.*
We are going back to Germany at last Strangely has the
world enlarged to me since we came here. We are accredited
pilgrims ; we have performed every prescribed duty, and availed
ourselves of every proffered privilege. And yet it is not because
of the regret of quitting the Holy City that our hearts are full
of the gravest melancholy as we turn away from Rome.
When I compare the recollections of this Rome with those of
a home at Eisenach, I am tempted in my heart to feel as if
Germany, and not Rome, were the Holy Place, and our pil-
grimage were beginning, instead of ending, as we turn our faces
nortliward I
XI.
Cistercian ConVbnt, Nimptschcn, 1511.
IFE cannot, at the. utmost, last very long, although at
seventeen we may be tempted to think the way
between us and heaven interminable.
For the convent is certainly not heaven; I never expected it
would be. It is not nearly so much like heaven, I think, as
Aunt Cotta's home; because love seems to me to be the essential
joy of heaven, and there is more love in that home than here.
I am not at all disappointed. I did not expect a haven of
rest, but only a sphere where I might serve God better, and, at
all events, not be a burden on dear Aurit Cotta. For I feel
sure Uncle Cotta will become blind; and they have so much
difficulty to struggle on, as it is.
And the world is full of dangers for a young orphan girl like
me; and I am afraid they might want me to many some one,
which I never could.
I have no doubt God will give me some work to do for him
here, and that is all the happiness I look for. Not that I think
there are not other kinds of happiness in the world which are
not wrong; but they are not for me.
I shall never think it was wrong to love them all at Eisenach
as much as I did, and do, whatever the confessor may say. I
shall be better all my life^ and all the life beyond, I believe, for
the love God gave them for me, and me for them, and for
having known Cousin Fritz. I wish very much he would write
to me ; and sometimes I think I will write to him. I feel sure
it would do us both good. He always said it did him good to
talk and read the dear old Latin hymns wiUi me; and I know
l8o Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
they never seemed more real and true than when I sang them
to him. But the father confessor says it would be exceedingly
perilous for our souls to hold such a correspondence; and he
asked me if I did not think more of my cousin than of the
hymns when I sang them to him, which, he says, would have
been a great sin. I am sure I cannot tell exactly how the
thoughts were balanced, or from what source each drop or
pleasure flowed. It was all blended together. It was joy to
sing the hymns, and it was joy for Fritz to like to hear them.;
and where one joy overflowed into the other I cannot tell. I
believe God gave me both; and I do not see that I need care
to divide one from the other. Who cares, when the Elbe is
flowing past its willows and oaks at Wittemberg, which part of
its waters was dissolved by the sun fixm the pure snows on the
mountains, and which came trickling from some little humble
spring on the sandy plains) Both springs and snows came
originally from the clouds above ; and both, as they flow blended
on together, make the grass spring and the leaf-buds swell, and
all the world rejoice.
The heart with which we love each other and with which we
love God, is it not the same? Only God is all good, and we
are all His, therefore we should love Him best I think I do,
or I should be more desolate here than I am, away from all but
him.
That is what I understand by my " Theologia Germanica,"
which Elsb does not like. I begin with my father's legacy
" God so loved the world, that he gave his Son;" and then I
think of the crucifix, and of the love of Him who died for us;
and, in the light of these, I love to read in my book of Him
who is the Supreme Goodness, whose will is our rest, and who
is himself the joy of all our joys, and our joy when we have no
other joy. The things I do not comprehend in the book, I
leave, hke so many other things. I am but a poor girl of
seventeen, and how can I expect to understand everything]
Only I never let the things I do not understand perplex me about
those I do.
Therefore, when my confessor told me to examine my heart,
and see if there were not wrong and idolatrous thoughts mixed
Eva's Story, i8l
ap with my love for them all at Eisenach, I said at once, look-
ing up at him
" Yes, father^ I did not love them half enough, for all their
love to me."
I think he must have been satisfied; for although he looked
perplexed, he did not ask me any more questions.
I feel very sorry for many of the nuns, especially for the old
nuns. They seem to me like children, and yet not child-like.
The merest trifles appear to excite or trouble them. They speak
of the convent as if it were the world, and of the world as if it
were hell. It is a childhood with no hope, no youth and
womanhood before it It reminds me of the stunted oaks we
passed on Diiben Heath, between Wittemberg and Leipsic, which
will never be full-grown, and yet are not saplings.
Then there is one. Sister Beatrice, whom the nuns seem to
think very inferior to themselves, because they say she was
forced into the convent by her relatives, to prevent her manying
some one they did not like, and could never be induced to take
the vows until her lover died, which, they say, is hardly worthy
of the name of a vocation at all.
She does not seem to think so either, but moves about in a
subdued, broken-spirited way, as if she felt herself a creature
belonging neither to the Church nor to the world.
The other evening she had been on an errand for the prioress
through the snow, and returned blue with cold. She had made
some mistake in the message, and was ordered at once, with con-
temptuous words, to her cell, to finish a penance by reciting
certain prayers.
I could not help following her. When I found her, she was
sitting on her pallet shivering, with the prayer-book before her.
I crept into the cell, and, sitting down beside her, began to chafe
her poor icy hands.
At first she tried to withdraw them, murmuring that she had
a penance to perform; and then her eyes wandered from the
book to mine. She gazed wonderingly at me for some moments,
and then she burst into tears, and said,-
" Oh, do not do that ! It makes me think of the old nursery at
home. And my mother is dead; all are dead, and I cannbt die."
1 82 Chronicles of this Schonberg-Cotta Family.
She let me put toy arms round her, however; and, in faint,
broken words, the whole history came out.
" I am not here from choice," she said. " I should never have
been here if my mother had not died; and I should never have
taken the vows if he had not died, whatever they had done to
me; for we were betrothed, and we had vowed before God we
would be true to each other till death. And why is not one vow
as good as another? When they told me he was dead, I took
the vows or, at least, I let them put the veil on me, and said
the words as I was told, after the priest; for I did not care what
I did. And so I am a nun. I have no wish now to be anything
else. But it will do me no good to be a nun, for I loved Eber-
hard first, and I loved him best; and now that he is dead, I love
no one, and have no hope in heaven or earth. I try, indeed,
not to think of him, because they say that is sin; but I cannot
think of happiness without him, if I try for ever."
I said, "I do not think it is wrong for you to think of him."
Her face brightened for an instant, and then she shook her
head, and said,
" Ah, you are a child; you are an angel. You do not know."
And then she began to weep again, but more quietly. " I wish
you had seen him; then you would understand better. It was
not wrong for me to love him once; and he was so different
from every one else so true and gentle, and so brave."
I listened while she continued to speak of him; and at last,
looking wistfully at me, she said, in a low, timid voice, " I can-
not help trusting you." And she drew from inside a fold of her
robe a little piece of yellow paper, with a few words written on
it, in pale, faded ink, and a lock of brown hair.
" Do you think it is very wrong?" she asked. " I have never
told the confessor, because I am not quite sure if it is a sin to
keep it; and I am quite sure the sisters would take it from me
if they knew. Do you think it is wrong?"
The words were very simple expressions of unchangeable
aflfection, and a prayer that God would bless her and keep them
for each other till better times.
I could not speak, I felt so sorry; and she murmured, ner-
vously taking her poor treasures from my hands, " You do not
Eva's Story, 183
think it right. But you will not tell? Perhaps one day I shall
be better, and be able to give them up; but not yet I have
nothing else."
Then I tried to tell her that she ^^/Z something else; that
God loved her and had pity on her, and that perhaps He was
only answering the prayer of her betrothed, and guarding them
in His blessed keeping until they should meet in better times.
At length she seemed to take comfort; and I knelt down with
her, and we said together the prayers she had been commanded
to recite.
When I rose, she said thoughtfully, " You seem to pray as if
some one in heaven really listened and cared"
"Yes," I said; "God does listen and care."
" Even to me/' she asked; " even for mel Will he not de-
spise me, like the holy sisterhood?"
"He scorns no one; and they say the lowest are nearest
Him, the Highest"
" I can certainly never be anything but the lowest," she said.
" It is fit no one here should think much of me, for I have only
given the refuse of my life to God. And besides, I had never
much power to think; and the little I had seems gone since
Eberhard died. I had only a little power to love; and I thought
that was dead. But since you came, I begin to think I might
y^ love a little."
As I left the cell she called me back.
" What shall I do when my thoughts wander, as they always
do in the long prayers f' she asked.
" Make shorter prayers, I think, oftener," I said. " I think
that would please God as much."
August 15 zz.
The months pass on very much the same here; but I do
not find them monotonous. I am permitted by the prioress to
wait on the sick, and also often to teach the younger novices.
This little world grows larger to me every week. It is a world
of human hearts, and what a world there is in every heart !
For instance. Aunt Agnes ! I begin now to know her. All
the sisterhood look up to her as almost a saint already. But I
do not believe she thinks so herself. For many months after I
1 84 Chronicles of ifte Sckonberg-Cotta Family,
entered the cloister she scarcely seemed to notice me; but last
week she brought herself into a low fever by the additional fasts
and severities she has been imposing on herself lately.
It was my night to watch in the infirmaty when she became
ill.
At first she seemed to shrink from receiving anything at m}'
hands.
" Can they not send any one elsef she asked sternly.
" It is appointed to me," I said, " in the order of the sister-
hood."
She bowed her head, and made no further opposition to my
nursing her. And it was very sweet to me, because in spite of
all the settled, grave impassiveness of her countenance, I could
not help seeing scnnething there which recalled dear Aunt
Cotta.
She spoke to me very little; but I felt her laige deep eyes
following me as I stirred little concoctions of herbs on die fire,
or crept softly about the room. Towards morning she said,
" Child, you are tired Come and lie down;" and she pointed
to a little bed bedside her own.
Peremptory as were the words, there was a tone in them differ-
ent from the usual metallic firmness in her voice which froze
Else's heart z. tremulousness which was almost tender. I could
not resist the command, especially as she said she felt much
better; and in a few minutes, bad nurse that I was, I fell asleep.
How long I slept I know not, but I was awakened by a slight
movement in the room, and looking up, I saw Aunt Agnes's bed
empty. In my first moments of bewildered terror I thought of
arousing the sisterhood, when I noticed that the door of the
infirmary which opened on the gallery of the chapel was slightly
ajar. Softly I stole towards it,, and there, in the front of the
gallery, wrapped in a sheet, knelt Aunt Agnes, looking more
than ever like the picture of death which she always recalled to
Elsfe. Her lips, which were as bloodless as her face, moved with
passionate rapidity; her thin hands feebly counted the black
beads of her rosary; and her eyes were fixed on a picture of the
Mater Dolorosa with the seven swords in her heart, over one of
the altars. There was no impassiveness in the poor sharp
Eva's Story. ' 185
features and trembling lips then. Her whole soul seemed going
forth in an agonized appeal to that pierced heart; and I heard
her murmur, " In vain ! Holy Virgin, plead for me 1 it has been
all in vain. The flesh is no more dead in me than the first day.
That child's face and voice stir my heart more than all thy
sorrows. This feeble tie of nature has more power in me than
idi the relationships of the heavenly city. It has been in vain,
^all, all in vain. I cannot quench the fires of earth in my
heart"
I scarcely ventured to interrupt her, but as she bowed her
head on her hands, and fell almost prostrate on the floor of the
chapel, while her whole frame heaved with repressed sobs, I
went forward and gently lifted her, saying, "Sister Agnes,
I am responsible for the sick to-night You must come
back."
She did not resist A shudder passed through her; then the
old stony look came back to her face, more rigid than ever, and
she suffered me to wrap her up in the bed, and give her a warm
drink.
I do not know whether she suspects that I heard her. She
is more reserved with me than ever; but to me those resolute,
fixed features, and that hard, firm voice, will never more be
what they were before.
No wonder that the admiration of the sisterhood has no power
to elate Aunt Agnes, and that their wish to elect her sub-prioress
had no seduction for her. She is striving in her inmost soul
after an ideal, which, could she reach it, what would she be?
As regards all human feeling and earthly life, dead/
And just as she hoped this was attained, a voice a poor,
friendly child's voice ^falls on her ear, and she finds that what
she deemed death was only a dream in an undisturbed slumber,
and that the whole work has to begin again.
It is a fearful combat, this concentrating all the powers of life
on producing death in life.'
Can this be what God means?
Thank God, at least, that my vocation is lower. The hum-
bling work in the infirmary, and the trials of temper in the
school of the novices, seem to teach me more, and to make me
1 86 Chronicles of the Schiinberg-Cotta Family,
feel that I am nothing and have nothing in myself, more than
all my efforts xofed nothing.
My " Theologia" says, indeed, that true self-abnegatioD is
freedom; and freedom cannot be attained until we are above
the fear of punishment or the hope of reward. Els^ cannot
bear this; and when I spoke of it the other day to poor Sister
Beatrice, she said it bewildered her poor brain altogether to
think of it But I do not take it in that sense. I think it must
mean that love is its own reward; and grieving Him we love,
who has so loved us, oui worst punishment And that seems to
me quite true.
XIL
kt'B Sterg*
WiTTEMBBRG, y$tlU Z5Z&
ga JR Eva seems happy at the convent. She has taken
imQ the vows, and is now finally Sister Ave. She has also
^21^(9 sent us some eye-water for the father. But in spite
of all we can do his sight seems failing.
In some way or other I think my father's loss of sight has
brought blessing to the family.
Our grandmother, who is very feeble now, and seldom leaves
her chair by the stove, has become much more tolerant of his
schemes since there is no chance of their being carried out,
and listens with remarkable patience to his statements of the
wonders he would have achieved had his sight only been con-
tinued a few years.
Nor does the father himself seem as much dejected as one
would have expected.
When I was comforting him to-day by saying how much less
anxious our mother looks, he replied,
" Yes, my child, the praeter pluperfect subjunctive is a more
comfortable tense to live in than the future subjunctive, for any
length of time."
I looked perplexed, and he explained,
" It is easier, when once one has made up one's mind to it,
to say, * Had I had this I might have done that,' than, * If I
can have this I shall do that/ at least it is easier to the anxious
and excitable feminine mind."
" But to you, father 1"
" To me it is a consolation at last to be appreciated. Even
your grandmother understands at length how great the results
i88 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
would have been if I could only have had eye-sight to perfect
that last invention for using steam to draw water."
Our grandmother must certainly have put great restraint on
her usually frank expression of opinion, if she has led our
father to believe she had any confidence in that last scheme ;
for, I must confess, that of all our father^s inventions and dis-
coveries, the whole family consider this idea about the steam
the wildest and most impracticable of all. The secret of per-
petual motion might, no doubt, be discovered, and a clock be
constructed which would never need winding up, I see no
great difficulty in that It might be quite possible to transmute
lead into gold, or iron into silver, if one could find exactly the
right proportions. My father has explained all that to me quite
clearly. The ehxir which would prolong life indefinitely seems
to me a little more difficult ; but this notion of pumping up
water by means of the steam which issues from boiling water
and disperses in an instant, we all agree in thinking quite
visionary, and out of the question ; so that it is, perhaps, as
well our poor father should not have thrown away any more
expense or time on it Besides, we had already had two or
three explosions from his experiments ; and some of the neigh-
bours were beginning to say very unpleasant things about the
black art, and witchcraft ; so that on the whole, no doubt, it is
all for the best
I would not, however, for the world, have hinted this to him ;
therefore I only replied, evasively,
" Our grandmother has indeed been much gentler and more
placid lately."
" It is not only that," he rejoined ; " she has an intelligence
far superior to that of most women, she comprehends. And
then," he continued, '^ I am not without hopes that that young
nobleman, UMch von Gersdorf, who comes here so frequently
and asks about Eva, may one day carry out my schemes. He
and Chriemhild begin to enter into the idea quite intelligently.
Besides, there is Master Reichenbach, the rich merchant to
whom your Aunt Cotta introduced' us ; he has money enough
to carry things out in the best style. He certainly does not
promise much, but he is an intelligent listener, and that is a
Elsi's Story. 189
great step, Gottfried Reichenbach is an enlightened man for
a merchant, although he is, perhaps, rather slow in comprehen-
sion, and a little over-caiitious/'
" He is not overcautious in his alms, father," I said ; " at
least Dr. Martin Luther says so."
"Perhaps not," he said. "On the whole, certainly, the
citizens of Wittemberg are very superior to those of Eisenach,
who were incredulous and dull to tJie last degree. It will be a
great thing if Reichenbach and Von Gersdorf take up this in-
vention. Reichenbach can introduce it at once among the
patrician families of the great cities with whom he is connected,
and Von Gersdorf would promote it among his kindred knights.
It would not, indeed, be such an advantage to our family as if
Pollux and Christopher, or our poor Fritz, had carried it out.
But never mind, Elsb, my child, we were children of Adam be-
fore we were Cottas. We must think not only of the family,
but of the world."
Master Reichenbach, indeed, may take a genuine interest in
my father's plans, but I have suspicions of Ulrich von Gersdorf.
He seems to me far more interested in Chriemhild's embroidery
than in our fathers steam-pump ; and although he continues to
talk of Eva as if he thought her an angel, he certainly sometimes
looks at Chriemhild as if he thought her a creature as interesting.
I do not hke such transitions; and, besides, his conversa.
tion is so very different, in my opinion, from Master Reichen-
bach's. Ulrich von Gersdorf has no experience of life beyond
a boar-hunt, a combat with some rival knights, or a foray on
some defenceless merchants. His life has been passed in the
castle of an uncle of his in the Thuringian forest ; yet I cannot
wonder that Chriemhild listens, with a glow of interest on her
face, as she sits with her eyes bent on her embroidery, to his
stories of ambushes and daring surprises. But to me this life
seems rude and lawless. Ulrich's uncle was unmarried ; and
they had no ladies in the castle except a widowed aunt of
U bach's, who seems to be as proud as Lucifer, and especially to
pride herself on being able to wear pearls and velvet, which no
burgher's wife may appear in.
Ulrich's mother died early. I fancy she was gentler and of
I go Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family,
a truer nobleness. He sa)rs the only book they have in the
castle is aft old illuminated Missal which belonged to her. He
has another aunt, Beatrice, who is in the convent at Nimpt-
schen with our Eva. They sent her there to prevent her mar-
rying the son of a family with whom they had a hereditary feud.
I begin to feel, as Fritz used to say, that the life of these petty
nobles is not nearly so noble as that of the burghers. They
seem to know nothing of the world beyond the little district
they rule by terror. They have no honest way of maintaining
themselves, but live by the hard toil of their poor oppressed
peasants, and by the plunder of their enemies.
Herr Reichenbach, on the other hand, is connected with the
patrician families in the great city of Niimberg ; and although
he does not talk much, he has histories to tell of painters and
poets, and great events in the broad field of the world. Ah, I
wish he had known Fritz ! He likes to hear me talk of him.
And then, moreover, Herr Reichenbach has much to tell me
about Brother Martin Luther, who is at the head of the Ere-
mite or Augustine Convent here, and seems to me to be the
great man of Wittemberg ; at least people appear to like him or
dislike him more than any one else here.
October xg, 15x3.
This has been a great day at Wittemberg. Friar Martin
Luther has been created Doctor of Divinity. Master Reichen-
bach procured us excellent places, and we saw the degree con-
ferred on him by Dr. Andrew Bodenstein of Carlstadt
The great bell of the city churches, which only sounds on
great occasions, pealed as if for a Church festival ; all the uni-
versity authorities marched in procession through the streets ;
and after taking the vow, Friar Martin was solemnly invested
with the doctor's robes, hat, and ring a massive gold ring
presented to him by the Elector.
But the part which impressed me most was the oath, which
Dr. Luther pronounced most solemnly, so that the words, in
his fine clear voice, rang through the silence. He repeated it
after Dr. Bodenstein, who is commonly called Carlstadt. The
words in Latin, Herr Reichenbach says, were these (he wrote
them for me to send to Eva)y .
Elsi's Story. 191
" Juro me veritatem evangelicam viriliter defensurum ;"
which Herr Reichenbach translated, " I swear vigorously to de-
fend tvangdical truth'*
This oath is only required at one other university besides
Wittemberg ^that of Tubingen. Dr. Luther swore it as if he
were a knight of olden times, vowing to risk life and limb in
some sacred cause. To me, who could not understand the
words, his manner was more that of a warrior swearing on his
sword, than of a doctor of divinity.
And Master Reichenbach says, " What he has promised he
will do !"
Chriemhild laughs at Master Reichenbach, because he has
entered his name on the list of university students, in order to
attend Dr. Luther's lectures.
" With his grave old face, and his grey hair," she says, " to
sit among those noisy student boys !"
But I can see nothing laughable in it I think it is a sign oi
something noble, for a man in the prime of life to be content
to learn as a little child. And besides, whatever Chriemhild
may say, if Herr Reichenbach is a little bald, and has a few
grey hairs, it is not on account of age. Grown men, who
think and feel, in these stormy times, cannot be expected
to have smooth faces and full curly locks, like Ulrich von
Gersdorf.
I am sure if I were a man twice as old as he is, there is no-
thing I should like better than to attend Dr. Luther's lectures.
I have heard him preach once in the City Church, and it was
quite different from any other sermon I ever heard. He spoke
of God and Christ, and heaven and hell, with as much convic-
tion and simplicity as if he had been pleading some cause of
human wrong, or relating some great events which happened on
earth yesterday, instead of reciting it like a piece of Latin
grammar, as so many of the monks do.
I began almost to feel as if I might at last find a religion that
would do for me. Even Christopher was attentive. He said
Dr. Luther called everything by such plain names, one could
not help understanding.
We have seen him once at our house. He was so respectful
192 Chronicles of the Schimberg-Cotta Family.
to our grandmother, and so patient with my father, and he
spoke so kindly of Fritz.
Fritz has written to us, and has recommended us to take Dr.
Martin Luther for our family confessor. He says he can never
repay the good Dr. Luther has done to him. And certainly he
writes more brightly and hopefully than he ever has since he
left us, although he has, alas 1 finally taken those dreadful, irre-
vocable vows.
March 15x3.
Dr. Luther has consented to be our confessor; and thank
God I do believe at last I have found the religion which may
make me, even me, love God. Dr. Luther says I have entirely
misunderstood God and the Lord Jesus Christ He seemed to
understand all I have been longing for and perplexing myself
about all my life, with a glance. When I began to falter out
my confessions and difficulties to him, he seemed to see them
all spread before him, and explained them all to me. He says
I have been thinking of God as a severe judge, an exactor, a
harsh creditor, when he is a rich Giver, a forgiving Saviour, yea,
the very fountain of inexpressible love.
" God's love," he said, " gives in such a way that it flows
from a Father's heart, the well-spring of all good. The heart
of the giver makes the gift dear and precious ; as among our-
selves we say of even a trifling gift, ' It comes from a hand we
love,' and look not so much at the gift as at the heart."
'^ If we will only consider him in his works, we shall learn
that God is nothing else but pure, unutterable love, greater and
more than any one can think. The shameful thing is, that the
world does not regard this, nor thank him for it, alUiough every
day it sees before it such countless benefits from him ; and it
deserves for its ingratitude that the sun should not shine another
moment longer, nor the grass grow; yet He ceases not, without
a moment's interval, to love us, and to do us good. Language
must fail me to speak of his spiritual gifts. Here he pours forth
for us, not sun and moon, nor heaven and earth, but his own
heart, his beloved Son, so that He suffered His blood to be
shed, and the most shameful death to be inflicted on Him, for
us wretched, wicked, thankless creatures. How, then, can we
Elsi's Story, 193
say anything but that God is an abyss of endless, unfathomable
lovel"
" The whole Bible," he says, " is full of this, that we should
not doubt, but be absolutely certain, that God is merciful,
gracious, patient, faithful, and true ; who not only will keep, his
promises, but already has kept and done abundantly beyond
what he promised, since he has given his own Son for our sins
on the cross, that all who believe on Him should not perish,
but have everlasting life."
" Whoever believes and embraces this," he added, " that God
has given his only Son to die for us poor sinners, to him it is no
longer any doubt, but the most certain truth, that God reconciles
us to himselff and is favourable and heartily gracious to us."
"Since the gospel shows us Christ the Son of God, who,
according to the will of the Father, has offered himself up for us,
and has satisfied for sin, the heart can no more doubt God*s
goodness and grace, is no more^ affrighted, nor flies from God,
but sets all its hope in his goodness and mercy."
" The apostles are always exhorting us," he says, "to continue
in the love of God, that is, that each one should entirely con-
clude in his heart Jhat he is loved by God; and they set before
our eyes a certain proof of it, in that God has not spared his
Son, but given him for the world, that through His death the
world might again have life.
" It is God's honour and glory to give liberally. His nature
is all pure love ; so that if any one would describe or picture
God, he must describe One who is pure love, the divine nature
being nothing else than a furnace and glow of such love that it
fills heaven and earth.
" Love is an image of God, and not a dead image, nor one
painted on paper, but the Hving essence of the divine nature,
which bums full of all goodness.
" He is not harsh, as we are to those who have injured us.
We withdraw our hand and close our purse, but he is kind to
the unthankful and the evil.
" He sees thee in thy poverty and wretchedness, and knows
thou hast nothing to pay. Therefore he freely forgives, and
gives thee all."
13
194 Chronicles of the Sclwnberg-Cotta Family.
**It is not to be borne," he said, "that Christian people
should say, We cannot know whether God is favourable to us
or not On the contrary, we should learn to say, I know that
I believe in Christ, and therefore that God is my gracious
Father."
"What is the reason that God gives]" he said, one day.
" What moves him to it 1 Nothing but unutterable love, be-
cause he delights to give and to bless. What does he give 1
Not empires merely, not a world full of silver and gold, not
heaven and earth only, but his Son, who is as great as himself,
that is, eternal and incomprehensible; a gift as infinite as the
Giver, the very spring and fountain of all grace; yea, the pos-
session and property of all the riches and treasures of God."
Dr. Luther said also, that the best name by which we can
think of God is Father. " It is a loving, sweet, deep, heart-
touching name ; for the name of father is in its nature full of
inborn sweetness and comfort. Therefore, also, we must con-
fess ourselves children of God; for by this name we deeply
touch our God, since there is not a sweeter sound to the father
than the voice of the child."
All this is wonderful to me. I scarcely dare to open my
hand, and take this belief home to my heart.
Is it then, indeed, thus we must think of God? Is he, indeed,
as Dr. Luther says, ready to listen to our feeblest cry, ready to
forgive us, and to help US'?
And if he is indeed like this, and cares what we think of him,
how I must have grieved him all these years !
Not a moment longer I I will not distrust Thee a moment
longer. See, heavenly Father, I have come back !
Can it, indeed, be possible that God is pleased when we trust
him, pleased when we pray, simply because he loves us %
Can it indeed be true, as Dr. Luther says, that love is our
greatest virtue; and that we please God best by being kind to
each other, just because that is what is most like himi
I am sure it is true. It is so good, it must be true.
Then it is possible for me, even for me, to love God. How
is it possible for me not to love him? And it is possible
for me, even for me, to be religious, if to be religious is to
Else's Story, 195
love God, and to do whatever we can to make those around us .
happy.
But if this is indeed religion, it is happiness, it is freedom,
it is life !
Why, then, are so many of the religious people I know of a
sad countenance, as if they were bond-servants toiling for a hard
master f
I must ask Dr. Luther.
A/n'i, 1513.
I have asked Dr. Luther, and he says it is because the devil
makes a great deal of the religion we see; that he pretends to
be Christ, and comes and terrifies people, and scourges them
with the remembrance of their sins, and tells them they must
not dare to lift up their eyes to heaven, because God is so holy,
and they are so sinful. But it is all because he knows that if
they would lift their eyes to heaven, their terrors would vanish,
and they would see Christ there, not as the Judge, and the hard,
exacting Creditor, but as the pitiful, loving Saviour.
I find it a great comfort to believe in this way in the devil.
Has he not been trying to teach me his religion all my life ?
And now I have found him out ! He has been telling me lies,
not about myself (Dr. Luther says he cannot paint us more sin-
ful than we are), but lies about God. It helps me almost as
much to hear Dr. I^uther speak about the devil as about God
" the malignant, sad spirit," he says, " who loves to make every
one sad."
With God's help, I will never believe him again. But Dr.
Luther said I shall, often; that he will come again and malign
God, and assail my peace in so many ways, that it will be long
before I learn to know him.
I shuddered when he told me this; but then he re-assured
me, by telling me a beautiful story, which, he said, was from the
Bible. It was about a Good Shepherd and silly, wandering
sheep, and a wolf who sought to devour them. " All the care
of the Shepherd," he said, " is in the tenderest way to attract the.
sheep to keep close to him; and when they wander, he goes and
seeks them, takes them on his shoulder, and carries them safe
home. All our wisdom," he says, "is to keep always near
196 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
this Grood Shepherd, who is Christ, and to listen to Hia
voice."
I know the Lord Jesus Chnst is called the Good Shepherd.
I have seen the picture of him carrying the lamb on his shoulder.
But until Dr. Luther explained it to me, I thought it meant
that he was the Lord and Owner of all the world, who are his
flock. But I never thought that he cared for me as his sheep,
sought me, called me, watched me, even me, day by day.
Other people, no doubt, have understood all this before. And
yet, if so, why do not the monks preach of it 1 Why should
Aunt Agnes serve Him in the convent by penances and self-
tormentings, instead of serving Him in the world by being kind
and helping all around % Why should our dear, gentle mother,
have such sad, self-reproachful thoughts, and feel as if she and
our family were under a curse?
Dr. Luther said that Christ was " made a curse for us ;" that
he, the unspotted and undefiled Lamb of God, bore the curse
for us on the cross ^ and that we, believing in him, are not under
the curse, but under the blessing that we are blessed.
This, then, is what the crucifix and the Agnus Dei mean.
Doubtless many around me have understood all this long ago.
I am sure, at least, that our Eva understood it.
But what inexpressible joy for me, as I sit at my embroidery
in the garden, to look up through the apple-blossoms and the
fluttering leaves, and to see God's love there; to listen to the
thrush that has built his nest among them, and feel God*s love,
who cares for the birds, in every note that swells his little throat ;
to look beyond to the bright blue depths of the sky, and feel
they are a canopy of blessing the roof of the house of my
Father; that if clouds pass over, it is the unchangeable light
they veil; that, even when the day itself passes, I shall see that
the night itself only unveils new worlds of light ; and to know
that if I could unwrap fold after fold of God's universe, I should
only unfold more and more blessing, and see deeper and deeper
into the love which is at the heart of all !
And then what joy again to turn to my embroidery, and as
my fingers busily ply the neddle, to think
"This is to help my father and mother; this, even this, is a
Elsi's Story, 197
little work of love. And as I sit and stitch, God is pleased with
me, and with what I am doing. He gives me this to do, as
much as he gives the priests to pray, and Dr. Luther to preach.
I am serving Him, and he is near me in my little comer of the
world, and is pleased with me even with me!"
Oh, Fritz and Eva! if you had both known this, need you
have left us to go and serve God so far away?
Have I indeed, like St Christopher, found my bank of the
river, where I can serve my Saviour by helping all the pilgrims
Icani
Better, better than St. Christopher; for do I not know the
voice that calls to me
"Elsfe! Elsb! do this for me?"
And now I do not feel at all afraid to grow old, which is a
great relief, as I am already six-and-twenty, and the children
think me nearly as old as our mother. For what is growing
old, if Dr. Martin Luther is indeed right (and I am sure he is),
but growing daily nearer God, and His holy, happy home ! Dr.
Luther says our Saviour called heaven his Fathers house.
Not that I wish to leave this world. While God wills we
should stay here, and is with us, is it not home-like enough for
us?
May, 1513.
This morning I was busy making a favourite pudding of the
father's, when I heard Herr Reichenbach's voice at the door.
He went into the dwelling-room, and soon afterwards Chriem-
hild, Atlantis, and Thekla, invaded the kitchen.
"Herr Reichenbach wishes to have a consultation," said
Chriemhild, " and we are sent away."
I felt anxious for a moment. It seemed like the old Eisenach
days; but since we have been at Wittemberg we have never
gone into debt; so that, after thinking a little, I was re-assured.
The children were full of speculations what it would be about.
Chriemhild thought it was some afifair of state, because she had
seen him in close confabulation with Ulrich von Gersdorf as he
came up the street, and they had probably been discussing
some question about the privileges of the nobles and burghers.
Atlantis believed it had something to do with Dr. Martin
198 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
. Luther, because Heir Reichenbach had presented the mother
with a new pamphlet of the Doctor's on entering the room.
Thekla was sure it was at last the opportunity to make use
of one of the father^s discoveries, ^whether the perpetual clock,
or the transmutation of metals, or the steam-pump, she could
not tell; but she was persuaded that it was something which
was to make our fortunes at last, because Herr Reichenbach
looked so very much in earnest, and was so very respectful to
our father.
They had not much time to discuss their various theories
when we heard Herr Reichenbach*s step pass hurriedly through
the passage, and the door closed hastily after him.
"Do you call that a consultation?" said Chriemhild, scorn-
fully; "he has not been here ten minutes."
The next instant our mother appeared, looking very pale,
and with her voice trembling as she said,
" Elsb, my child, we want you."
" You are to know first, Els^," said the children. " Well, it
is only fair; you are a dear good eldest sister, and will be sure
to tell us."
I scarcely knew why, but my fingers did not seem as much
under control as usual, and it was some moments before I could
put the finishing stroke to my pudding, wash my hands, pull
down the white sleeves to my wrists, and join them in the
dwelling-room, so that my mother re-appeared with an im-
patience very unusual for her, and 'led me in herself.
" Elsb, darling, come here," said my father. And when he
felt my hand in his, he added, "Herr Reichenbach left a
message for thee. Other parents often decide these matters for
their children, but thy mother and I wish to leave the matter to
thee. Couldst thou be his wifel"
The question took me by surprise, and I could only say,
" Can it be possible he thinks of mel"
"I see nothing impossible in that, my Elsb," said my father;
" but at all events Herr Reichenbach has placed that beyond
a doubt. The question now is whether our Elsfe can think of
him."
I could not say anything.
Elsi's Story. 199
"Think well before you reject him," said my father; "he is
a good and generous man, he desires no portion with thee; he
says thou wouldst be a portion for a king; and I must say he is
very intelligent and well-informed, and can appreciate scientific
inventions as few men in these days can."
" I do not wish him to be dismissed," I faltered.
But my tender-hearted mother said, la)dng my head on her
shoulder,
"Yet think well, darling, before you accept him. We are
not poor now, and we need no stranger's wealth to make us
happy. Heaven forbid that our child should sacrifice herself
for us. Herr Reichenbach is, no doubt, a good and wise man,
but I know well a young maiden's fancy. He is little, I know
^not tall and stalwart, like our Fritz and Christopher; and he
is a little bald, and he is not very young, and rather grave and
silent, and young girls "
" But, mother," I said, " I am not a young girl, I am six-and-
twenty; and I do not think Herr Reichenbach old, and I never
noticed that he was bald, and I am sure to me he is not silent."
" That will do, Elsb," said the grandmother, laughing from
her comer by the stove. "Son and daughter, let these two
settle it together. They will arrange matters better than we
shall for them."
And in the evening Herr Reichenbach came again, and
everything was arranged.
"And that is what the consultation was about!" said the chil-
dren, not without some disappointment. "It seems such an
ordinary thing," said Atlantis, " we are so used to seeing Herr
Reichenbach. He comes almost every day."
"I do not see that that is any objection," said Chriemhild;
*' but it seems hardly like being married, only just to cross the
street. His house is just opposite."
" But it is a great deal prettier than ours," said Thekla. " I
like Herr Reichenbach; no one ever took such an interest in
my drawings as he does. He tells me where they are wrong,
and shows me how to make them right, as if he really felt it of
some consequence; which it is, you know, Elsb, because one
day I mean to embroider and help the family, Uke you. And
200 Chronicles of the Schonherg-Cotta Family,
no one was ever so kind to Nix as he is. He took the dog on
his knee the other day, and drew out a splinter which had
lamed him, which Nix would not let any one else do but me.
Nix is very found of Herr Reichenbach, and so am I. He is
much wiser, I think, than Ulrich, who teases Nix, and pretends
never to know my cats from my cows; and I do not see that
he is much older; besides, I could not bear our Elsb to live a
step further off."
And Thekla climbed up on my lap and kissed me, while Nix
stood on his hind legs and barked, evidently thinking it was a
great occasion. So that two of the family at least have given
their consent
But none of the family know yet what Herr Reichenbach said
to me when we stood for a few minutes by the window, before
he lefl this evening. He said
" Elsfe, it is God who gives me this joy. Ever since the
evening when you all arrived at Wittemberg, and I saw you
tenderly helping the aged and directing the young ones, and
never flurried in all the bustle, but always at leisure to tiiank
any one for any little kindness, or to help any one out of any
little difficulty, I thought you were the light of this home, and
I prayed God one day to make you the light of mine."
Ah ! that shows how love veils people's faults ; but he did not
know Fritz, and not much of Eva. They were the true sunshine
of our home. However, at all events, with God's help, I will
do my very best to make Herr Reichenbach's home bright
But the best of all is, I am not afraid to accept this blessing.
I believe it is God, out of his inexpressible love, as Dr. Luther
says, who has given it me, and I am not afraid He will think
me too happy.
Before I had Dr. Luther for my confessor, I should never
have known if it was to be blessing or a curse; but now
I am not afraid. A chain seems to have dropped from my
heart, and a veil from my eyes, and I can call God Father, and
take everything fearlessly from him.
And I know Gottfried feels the same. Since I never had a
vocation for the higher religious life, it is an especial mercy for
me to have found a religion which enables a very poor every-
Elsies Story. 201
day maiden in the world to love God and to seek his bless*
ing.
Our mother has been full of little tender apologies to me this
week, for having called Gottfried (Herr Reichenbach says I am
to call him so) old, and bald, and little, and grave.
" You know, darling, I only meant I did not want you to
accept him for our sakes. And after all, as you say, he is
scarcely bald; and they say all men who think much lose their
hair early; and I am sure it is no advantage to be always
talking; and every one cannot be as tall as our Fritz and
Christopher."
" And after all, dear mother," said the grandmother, " Elsfe
did not choose Herr Reichenbach for your sakes ; but are you
quite sure he did not choose Elsfe for her father's sake 1 He
was always so interested in the steam-pump 1"
My mother and I are much cheered by seeing the quiet influ-
ence Herr Reichenbach seems to have over Christopher, whose
companions and late hours have often caused us anxiety lately.
Christopher is not distrustful of him, because he is no priest,
and no great favourer of monks and convents ; and he is not
so much afraid about Christopher as we timid, anxious women
were beginning to be. He thinks there is good metal in him ;
and he says the best ore cannot look like gold until it is fused.
It is so difficult for us women, who have to watch from our quiet
homes afar, to distinguish the glow of the smelting furnace from
the glare of a conflagration.
WiTTBMBBRG, September 15x3.
This morning, Herr Reichenbach, Christopher, and Ulrich
vop Gersdorf (who is studying here for a time) came in full
of excitement, from a discussion they had been hearing be-
tween Dr. Luther and some of the doctors and professors d"
Erfurt
I do not know that I quite clearly understand what it was
about; but they seemed to think it of great importance.
Our house has become rather a gathering-place of late;
partly, I think, on account of my father's blindness, which
always insures that there will be some one at home.
202 Chronicles of the Sckbnberg-Cotta Family,
It seems that Dr. Luther attacks the old methods of teaching
in the universities, which makes the older professors look on
him as a dangerous innovator, while the young delight in him
as a hero fighting their battles. And yet the authorities Dr.
Luther wishes to re-instate are older than those he attacks.
He demands that nothing shall be received as the standard of
theological truth except the Holy Scriptures. I cannot under-
stand why there should be so much conflict about this, because
I thought all we believed was founded on the Holy Scriptures.
I suppose it is not; but if not, on whose authority? I must
ask Gottfried this one day when we are alone.
The discussion to-day was between Dr. Andrew Bodenstein,
Archdeacon of Wittemberg, Dr. Luther, and Dr. Jodocus of
Eisenach, called Trutvetter, his old teacher. Dr. Carlstadt
himself, they said, seemed quite convinced ; and Dr. Jodocus
is silenced and is going back to Erfurt
The enthusiasm of the students is great The great point of
Dr. Luther's attack seems to be Aristotle, who was a heathen
Greek. I cannot think why these Church doctors should be
so eager to defend him ; but Herr Reichenbach says all the
teaching of the schools and all the doctrine of indulgences are
in some way founded on this Aristotle, and that Dr. Luther
wants to clear away everything which stands as a screen between
the students and the Bible.
Ulrich von Gersdorf said that our doctor debates like his
uncle,. Franz von Sickingen, fights. He stands like a rock
on some point he feels firm on; and then, when his opponents
are weary of trying to move him, he rushes suddenly down
on them, and sweeps them away like a torrent
" But his great secret seems to be," remarked Christopher,
" that ^^ believes every word he says. He speaks like other
men works, as if every stroke were to tell."
And Gottfried said, quietly, " He is fighting the battle of God
with the scribes and Pharisees of our days ; and whether he
triumph or perish, the battle will be won. It is a battle, not
merely against falsehood, but for truth, to keep a position he
}ias won."
" When I hear him," said Ulrich, " I wish my student days
Els^s Story. 203
over, and long to be in the old castle in the Thuringian Forest,
to give everything good there a new impulse. He makes me
feel the way to fight the world's great battles is for each to
conquer the enemies of God in his own heart and home. He
speaks of Aristotle and Augustine ; but he makes me think of
the sloth and tyranny in the castle, and the misery and oppres-
sion in the peasant's hut, which are to me what Aristotle and
the schoolmen are to him.''
" And I," said Christopher, " when he speaks, think of our
printing press, until my daily toil there seems the highest work
I could do ; and to be a printer, and wing such words as his
through the world, the noblest thing on earth."
"But his lectures fight the good fight even more than his
disputations," remarked Gottfried. " In these debates he clears
the world of the foe ; but in his explanations of the Psalms and
the Romans, he carries the battle within, and clears the heart
of the lies which kept it back from God. In his attacks on
Aristotle, he leads you to the Bible as the one source of truth ;
in his discourses on justification by faith he leads you to God
as the one source of holiness and joy."
" They say poor Dr. Jodocus is quite ill with vexation at his
defeat," said Christopher; "and that there are many bitter
things said against Dr. Luther at Erfiirt."
" What does that matter," rejoined Ulrich, " since Wittemberg
is becoming every month more thronged with students from all
parts of Germany, and the Augustinian cloister is already fiill
of young monks, sent hither from various convents, to study
under Dr. Luther 1 The youth and vigour of the nation are
with us. Let the dead bury their dead."
" Ah, children," murmured the grandmother, looking up fi-om
her knitting, " that is a fiineral procession that lasts long. The
young always speak of the old as if they had been bom old.
Do you think our hearts never throbbed high with hope, and
that we never fought with dragons) Yet the old serpent is not
killed yet Nor will he be dead when we are dead, and you
are old, and your grandchildren take their place in the old fight,
and think they are fighting the first battle the world has seen,
and vanquishing the last enemy."
204 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
" Perhaps not," said (Jottfried; " but the last enemy will be
overcome at last, and who knows how soon V
WiTTBMBBRC, OcUheT 15x3.
It is a Strong bond of union between Herr Reichenbach and
me, our reverence and love for Dr. Luther.
He is lecturing now on the Romans and the Psalms, and as I
sit at my spinning-wheel, or sew, Gottfried often reads to me
notes from these lectures, or tells me what they have been
about. This is a comfort to me also, because he has many
thoughts and doubts which, were it not for his friendship with
Dr. Luther, would make me tremble for him. They are so new
and strange to me; and as it is I never venture to speak of
them to my mother.
He thinks there is great need of reformations and changes in
the Church. He even thinks Christopher not far from right in
his dislike of many of the priests and monks, who, he says, lead
lives which are a disgrace to Christendom.
Buthis chief detestation is the sale of indulgences, now preached
in many of the towns of Saxony by Dr. Tetzel. He says it is
a shameless traffic in lies, and that most men of intelligence
and standing in the great cities think so. And he tells me that
a very good man, a professor of theology Dr. John Wesel
preached openly against them about fifty years ago at the Uni-
versity of Erfurt, and afterwards at Worms and Mainz; and
that John of Goch and other holy men were most earnest in
denouncing them.
And when I asked if the Pope did not sanction them, he said
that to understand what the Pope is one needs to go to Rome.
He went there in his youth, not on pilgrimage, but on mercan-
tile business, and he told me that the wickedness he saw there,
especially in the family of the reigning Pope, the Boigia, for
many years made him hate the very name of religion. Indeed,
he said it was principally through Dr. Luther that he had begun
again to feel there could be a religion, which, instead of being
a cloak for sin, should be an incentive to holiness.
He says also that I have been quite mistaken about " Rein-
eke Fuchs ;" that it is no vulgar jest-book, mocking at really
Elsi's Story. 205
sacred things, but a bitter, earnest satire against the hypocrisy
which practises all kinds of sin in the name of sacred things.
He doubts even if the Calixtines and Hussites are as bad as
they have been represented to be. It alarms me sometimes to
hear him say these things. His world is so much larger than
mine, it is difficult for my thoughts to follow him into it. If
the world is so bad, and there is so much hypocrisy in the
holiest places, perhaps I have been hard on poor Christopher
after alL
But if Fritz has found it so, how unhappy it must make him !
Can really religious people like Fritz and Eva do nothing
better for the world, but leave it to grow more and more corrupt
and unbelieving, while they sit apart to weave their robes of
sanctity in convents. It does seem time for something to be
done. I wonder who will do it?
I thought it might be the Pope; but Gottfried shakes his
head, and says, " No good thing can begin at Rome."
" Or the prelates 1" I asked one day.
" They are too intent," he said, " on making their courts as
magnificent as those of the princes, to be able to interfere with
the abuses by which their revenues are maintained."
"Or the princes 1"
" The friendship of the prelates is too important to them, for
them to interfere in spiritual matters."
" Or the emperor % "
" The emperor," he said, " has enough to do to hold his own
against the princes, the prelates, and the pope."
" Or the knights % "
"The knights are at war with all the world," he replied; " to
say nothing of their ceaseless private feuds with each other.
With the peasants rising on one side in wild insurrection, the
great nobles contending against their privileges on the other,
and the great burgher families throwing their barbarous splen-
dour into the shade as much as the city palaces do their bare
robber castles, the knights and petty nobles have little but
bitter words to spare for the abuses of the clergy. Besides,
most of them have relations whom they hope to provide for
with some good abbey."
2o6 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
"Then the peasants!" I suggested. "Did not the gospel
first take root among peasants % "
" Inspired peasants and fishermen 1 " he replied, thoughtfully.
" Peasants who had walked up and down the land three years
in the presence of the Master. But who is to teach our peasants
now 1 They cannot read ! "
" Then it must be the burghers," I said.
" Each may be prejudiced in favour of his order," he replied,,
with a smile \ " but I do think if better days dawn, it will be
through the cities. There the new learning takes root ; there
the rich have society and cultivation, and the poor have teachers ;
and men's minds are brightened by contact and debate, and
there is leisure to think and freedom to speak. If a reformation
of abuses were to begin, I think the burghers would promote it
most of all."
"But who is to begin it?" I asked. "Has no one ever
tried?"
"Many have tried," he replied sadly; "and many have
perished in trying. While they were assailing one abuse, others
were increasing. Or while they endeavoured to heal some
open wound, some one arose and declared that it was im-
possible to separate the disease from the whole frame, and that
they were attempting the life of our Holy Mother the Church."
" Who, then, will venture to begin 1 " I said. " Can it be
Dr. Luther? He is bold enough to venture anything ; and since
he has done so much good to Fritz, and to you, and to me, why
not to the whole Church?"
" Dr. Luther is faithful enough, and bold enough for any-
thing his conscience calls him to," said Gottfried; "but he is
occupied with saving men's souls, not with reforming ecclesias-
tical abuses."
" But if the ecclesiastical abuses came to interfere with the
salvation of men's souls," I suggested, " what would Dr. Luther
do then ? "
"We should see, Elsfe," said Gottfried. "If the wolves
attacked one of Dr. Luther's sheep, I do not think he would
care with what weapon he rescued it, or at what risk."
XIIL
(Izba's 5torg.
NiMPTSCHEN, 1517.
|REAT changes have taken place during these last three
years in Aunt Cotta's home. Elsfe has been married
more than two years, and sends me wonderful narra-
tives of the beauty and wisdom of her little Margarethe, who
begins now to lisp the names of mother, and father, and aunts.
lsb has also taught the little creature to kiss her hand to a
picture they have of me, and call it Cousin Eva. They will not
adopt ray convent name.
Chriemhild also is betrothed to the young knight, Ulrich von
Gersdorf, who has a castle in the Thuringian Forest ; and she
writes that they often speak of Sister Ave, and that he keeps
the dried violets still, with a lock of his mother's hair and a
relic of his patron saint. Chriemhild says I should scarcely
know him again, he is become so earnest and so wise, and so
full of good purposes.
And little Thekla writes that she also understands something
of Latin. Else's husband has taught her ; and there is nothing
Elsfe and Gottfried Reichenbach like so much as to hear her
sing the h)niins Cousin Eva used to sing.
They seem to think of me as a kind of angel sister, who was
early taken to God, and will never grow old. It is very sweet
to be remembered thus ; but sometimes it seems as if it were
hardly me they were remembering or loving, but what I was or
might have been.
Would they recognise Cousin Eva in the grave, quiet woman
of twenty-two I have become ? For whilst in the old home
Time seems to mark his course like a stream by growth and
life, here in the convent he seems to mark it only by the slow
2o8 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
falling of the shadow on the silent dial the shadow of death.
In the convent there is no growth but growing old.
In Aunt Cottars home the year expanded from winter into
spring, and summer, and autumn seed-time and harvest the
season of flowers and the season of fruits. The seasons grew
into each other, we knew not how or when. In the convent
the year is sharply divided into December, January, February,
March, and April, with nothing to distinguish one month from
another but their names and dates.
In our old home the day brightened from dawn to noon, and
then mellowed into sunset, and softly faded into night. Here
in the convent the day is separated into hours by the clock.
Sister Beatrice's poor faded face is slowly becoming a little
more faded ; Aunt Agnes*s a little more worn and sharp ; and
I, like the rest, am six yeu*s older than I was six years ago,
when I came here ; and that is all.
It is true, fresh novices have arrived, and have taken the
irrevocable vows, and fair young faces are around me ; but my
heart aches sometimes when I look at them, and think that
they, like the rest of us, have closed the. door on life, with all
its changes, and have entered on that monotonous pathway to
the grave whose stages are simply growing old.
Some of these novices come full of high aspirations for a
religious life. They have been told about the heavenly Spouse,
who will fill their consecrated hearts with pure, unutterable joys,
the world can never know.
Many come as sacrifices to family poverty or family pride,
because their noble parents are too poor to maintain them
suitably, or in order that their fortunes may swell the dower of
some married sister.
I know what disappointment is before them when they learn
that the convent is but a poor, childish mimicry of the world,
with its petty ambitions and rivalries, but without the life and
the love. I know the noblest will suffer most, and may, perhaps,
fall the lowest.
To narrow, apathetic natures, the icy routine of habit will
more easily replace the varied flow of life. They will fit into
their harness sooner, and become as much interested in the
Eva's Story. 209
gossip of the house or the order, the election of superiors, or the
scandal of some neighbouring nunnery, as they would have
become in the gossip of the town or village they would have
lived in in the world.
But warm hearts and high spirits these will chafe and
struggle, or (worse stiU !) dream they have reached depths of self-
abasement or soared to heights of mystical devotion, and then
awake, with bitter self-reproaches, to find themselves too weak
to cope with some small temptation, like Aunt Agnes.
These I will help all I can. But I have learned, since I
came to Nimptschen, that it is a terrible and perilous thing to
take the work of the training of our souls out of God's hands
into our own. The pruning knife in his hands must sometimes
-wound and seem to impoverish \ but in ours it cuts, and wounds,
and impoverishes, and does not prune. We can, indeed, inflict
pain on ourselves ; but God alone can make pain healing, or
suffering discipline.
I can only pray that, however mistaken many may be in
immuring themselves here. Thou who art the Good Physician
wilt take us, with all our useless self-inflicted wounds, and all
our wasted, self-stunted faculties, and as we are and as thou art,
still train us for thyself.
The infirmary is what interests me most Having secluded
ourselves from all the joys and sorrows and vicissitudes of
common life, we seem scarcely to have left anything in God's
hands, wherewith to try our faith and subdue our wills to his,
except sickness. Bereavements we cannot know who have
bereaved ourselves of all companionship with our beloved for
evermore on earth. Nor can we know the trials either of poverty
or of prosperity, since we can never experience either; but,
having taken the vow of voluntary poverty on ourselves, whilst we
can never call anything individually our own, we are freed firom
all anxieties by becoming members of a richly-endowed order.
Sickness only remains beyond our control; and, therefore,
when I see any of the sisterhood laid on the bed of suffering, I
think
" God has laid thee there r and I feel more sure that it ia the
right thing.
14
210 Chronicles of the Schonierg-Cotta Family,
I still instruct the novices; but sometimes the dreary question
comes to me
" For what am I instructing them? "
Life has no future for them only a monotonous prolonging
of the monotonous present
I try to feel, " I am training them for eternity." But who
can do that but God, who inhabiteth eternity, and sees the links
which connect every moment of the little circles of time with
the vast circumference of the everlasting future?
But I do my best Catharine von Bora, a young girl of six-
teen, who has lately entered the convent, interests me deeply.
There is such strength in her character and such warmth in her
heart But, alasl what scope is there for these here)
Aunt Agnes has not opened her heart in any way to me
True, when I was ill, she watched over me as tenderly as Aunt
Cotta could; but when I recovered, she seemed to repel all de-
monstrations of gratitude and afifection, and went on with that
round of penances and disciplines, which make the nuns
reverence her as so especially saintly.
Sometimes I look with longing to the smoke and lights in the
village we can see among the trees from the upper windows of
the convent I know that each little wreath of smoke comes
from the hearth of a home where there are father and mother
and little children; and the smoke wreaths seems to me
to rise like holy clouds of incense to God our Father in
heaven.
But the alms given so liberally by the sisterhood are given at
the convent-gate, so that we never form any closer connection
with the poor around us than that of beggars and almoners;
and I long to be ih^ir friend.
Sometimes I am afraid I acted in impatient self-will in leaving
Aunt Cotta's home, and that I should have served God better
by remaining there, and that, after all, my departure may have
left some little blank it would not have been useless to fiU. As
the girls many. Aunt Cotta might have found me a comfort;
and, as " Cousin Eva," I might perhaps have been more of a
help to Else's children than I can be to the nuns here as Sister
Ave. But whatever might have been, it is impatience and re-
Eva's Story. 2ii
bellion to think of that now; and nothing can separate me from
God and his love.
Somehow or other, however, even the "Theologia Germanica,"
and the high, disinterested communion with God it teaches,
seemed sweeter to me, in the intervals of an interrupted and
busy life, than as the business of this uninterrupted leisure.
The hours of contemplation were more blessed for the very
trials and occupations which seemed to hinder them.
Sometimes I feel as if my heart also were freezing, and
becoming set and hard. I am afraid, indeed, it would, were it
not for poor Sister Beatrice, who has had a paralytic stroke, and
is now a constant inmate of the infirmary. She speaks at times
very incoherently, and cannot think at any time connectedly.
But I have found a book which interests her; it is the Latin
Gospel of St. Luke, which I am allowed to take from the con-
vent library and translate to her. The narratives are so brief
and simple, she can comprehend them, and she never wearies
of hearing them. The very familiarity endears them, and to me
they are always new.
But it is veiy strange that there is nothing about penance or
vows in it, or the adoration of the blessed Virgin. I suppose
I shall find that in the other Gospels, or in the Epistles, which
were written after our Lady's assumption into heaven.
Sister Beatrice likes much to hear me sing the hymn by Ber-
nard of Clugni, on the perpetuity of joy in heaven:*
Here brief is the sighing,
And brief is the crying,
For brief is the life I
The life there is endless,
The joy there is endless,
And ended the strife.
What joys are in heaven?
To whom are they given ?
Ah! what? and to whom?
The stars to the earth-bom,
*' Best robes" to the sin-worn.
The crown for the doom !
O comitry the fairest !
Our country, the dearest !
We press towards thee '
O Sion the golden !
Our eyes now are holden.
Thy light till we see :
Thy crystalline ocean,
Unvexed by commotion.
Thy fountain of life ;
Thy deep peace imspoken.
Pure, sinless, unbroken,
Thy peace beyond strife :
* Hie breve vivitur, hie breve plangitur, hie breve fletur,
Non breve vivere, non breve plangere, retribuetur.
O retributio ! stat brevis actio, vita perennis,
O retributio ' coelica mansio stat lue plenia.
&c. &c. &c.
212 Chronicles of tlu Sckonberg-Cotta Family,
Thy meek saints all glorious,
lliy martyrs victorious,
Who suffer no more ;
Thy halls full of singing,
Thy hymns ever ringing
Along thy safe shore.
Like the lily for whiteness,
Like the jewel for brightness,
Thy vestments, O Bride !
The Lamb ever with thee,
The Bridegroom is with thee, -
With thee to abide !
We know not, we know not,
All human words show not;
The joys we may reach ;
The mansions preparing.
The joys for our sharing.
The welcome for each.
O Sion the golden !
My eyes still are holden.
Thy light till I see ;
And deep in thy glory.
Unveiled then before me,
My King, look on thee I
April 15x7.
The whole of the Augustinian Order in Saxony has been
greatly moved by the visitation of Dr. Martin Luther. He has
been appointed Deputy Vicar-General in the place of Dr. Stau-
pitz, who has gone on a mission to the Netherlands, to collect
relics for the Elector Frederick's new church at Wittemberg.
Last April Dr. Luther visited the Monastery of Grimma, not
far from us; and through our Prioress, who is connected with
the Prior of Grimma, we hear much about it
He strongly recommends the study of the Scriptures and of
St Augustine, in preference to every other book, by the brethren
and sisters of his Order. We have begun to follow his advice
in our convent, and a new impulse seems given to everything.
I have also seen two beautiful letters of Dr. Martin Luther^s,
written to two brethren of the Augustinian Order. Both were
written in April last, and they have been read by many amongst
us. The first was to Brother George Spenlein, a monk at
Memmingen. It begins, " In the name of Jesus Christ" After
speaking of some private pecuniary matters, he writes :
" As to the rest, I desire to know how it goes with thy soul ;
whether, weary of its own righteousness, it learns to breathe and
to trust in the righteousness of Christ For in our age the
temptation to presumption bums in many, and chiefly in those
who are trying with all their might to be just and good. Ignorant
of the righteousness of God, which in Christ is given to us richly
and without price, they seek in themselves to do good works, so
that at last they may have confidence to stand before God,
adorned with merits and virtues, ^which is impossible. Thou,
Eva's Story, 213
when with us, wert of this opinion, and so was I; but now I
contend against this error, although I have not yet conquered it.
" Therefore, my dear brother, learn Christ and him crucified;
learn to sing to him, and, despairing of thyself, to say to him,
* Lord Jesus, thou art my righteousness, but I am thy sin. Thou
hast taken me upon thyself, and given to me what is thine; thou
hast taken on thee what thou wast not, and hast given to me
what I was not' Take care not to aspire to such a purity that
thou shalt no longer seem to thyself a sinner; for Christ does
not dwell except in sinners. For this he descended from heaven,
where he abode with the just, that he might abide with sinners.
Meditate on this love of his, and thou shalt drink in his sweet
consolations. For if, by our labours and afflictions, we could
attain quiet of conscience, why did he die? Therefore, only in
Him, by a believing self-despair, both of thyself and of thy
works, wilt thou find peace. For he has made thy sins his, and
his righteousness he has made thine."
Aunt Agnes seemed to drink in these words like a patient in
a raging fever. She made me read them over to her again and
again, and then translate and copy them; and now she carries
them about with her everywhere.
To me the words that follow are as precious. Dr. Luther
says, that as Christ hath borne patiently with us wanderers, we
should also bear with others. " Prostrate thyself before the
Lord Jesus," he writes, " seek all that thou lackest He him-
self will teach thee all, even to do for others as he has done for
thee."
The second letter was to Brother George LeifFer of Erfiirt.
It speaks of affliction thus :
" The cross of Christ is divided throughout the whole world.
To each his portion comes in time, and does not fail. Thou,
therefore, do not seek to cast thy portion from thee, but rather
receive it as a holy relic, to be enshrined, not in a gold or silver
reliquary, but in the sanctuary of a golden, that is a loving and
submissive heart For if the wood of the cross was so conse-
crated by contact with the flesh and blood of Christ that it is
considered as the noblest of relics, how much more are injuries,
persecutions, sufferings, and the hatred of men, sacred leHcs,
2 14 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
consecrated not by the touch of his body, but by contact
with his most loving heart and Godlike will ! These we should
embrace, and bless, and cherish, since through him the curse is
transmuted into blessing, suffering into glory, the cross into
joy/'
Sister Beatrice delights in these words, and murmurs them
over to herself as I have explained them to her. " Yes, I un-
derstand; this sickness, helplessness, all I have lost and suf-
fered, are sacred relics from my Saviour; not because he forgets,
but because he remembers me; He remembers me! Sister Ave,
I am content."
And then she likes me to sing her favourite hymn,^^!;^!^ dulcis
memoria :
O Jesus ! thy sweet memory
Can fill the heart with ecstasy ;
But passing all things sweet tliat be.
Thy presence, Lord, to me.
What hope, O Jesus, thou canst render
To those who other hopes surrender !
To those who seek thee, O how tender !
But what to those who find !
With Mary, ere the morning break.
Him at the sepulchre I seek,
Would hear him to my spirit speak,
And see him with my heart
Wherever I may chance to be,
Thee first my heart desires to see :
How glad when I discover thee
How blest when I retain !
Beyond all treasures is thy grace :
O when wilt thou thy steps retrace.
And satisfy me with thy face.
And make me wholly glad ?
Then come, O come, thou perfect King,
Of boundless glory, boundless spring :
Arise, and fullest daylight bring,
Jesus, expected long! '
May 1517.
Aunt Agnes has spoken to me at last Abruptly and sternly,
as if more angry with herself than repenting or rejoicing, she
said to me this morning, " Child, those words of Dr. Luther's
have searched my heart I have been trying all my life to be a
saint, and so to reach God. And I have failed utterly. And
now I learn that I am a sinner, and yet that God's love reaches
me. The cross, the cross of Christ, is my pathway from hell to
heaven, I am not a saint I shall never be a saint Christ
is the only Saint, the Holy One of Gk)d; and he has borne my
sins, and he is my righteousness. He has done it all; and I
have nothing left but to give him all the gbry, and to love, to
love, to love him to all eternity! And I will do it," she added
Eva's Story. 215
fervently, " poor, proud, destitute, and sinful creature that I am,
I cannot help it; I must"
But strong and stem as the words were, how changed Aunt
Agnes's manner ! humble and simple as a child's. And as she
left me for some duty in the house, she kissed my forehead, and
said, "Ah, child, love me a little, if you can, not as a sdnt,
but as a poor, sinful old woman, who among her worst sins has
counted loving thee too much, which was certainly, after all,
among the least ; love me a litde, Eva, for my sister's sake, whom
you love so much."
XIV.
(flae's 5lor8.
Angusi X5X7.
|ES, our little Gretchen is certainly rather a remarkable
child. Although she is not yet two years old, she
knows all of us by name. She tyrannizes over us all,
except me. I deny her many things which she cries for; ex-
cept when Gottfried is present, who, unfortunately, cannot bear
to see her unhappy for a moment, and having (he says) had his
* temper spoilt in infancy by a cross nurse, has no notion of in-
fant education, except to avoid contradiction. Christopher, who
always professed a supreme contempt for babies, gives her rides
on his shoulder in the most submissive manner. But best of
all, I love to see her sitting on my blind father's knee, and strok-
ing his face with a kind of tender, pitiful reverence, as if she
felt there was something missing there. .
I have taught her, too, to say Fritz's name, when I show her
the little lock I wear of his hair; and to kiss Eva's picture. I
cannot bear that they should be as lost or dead to her. But I
am afraid she is perplexed between Eva's portrait and the pic-
ture of the Holy Virgin, which I teach her to bow and cross her
forehead before; because sometimes she tries to kiss the picture
of Our Lady, and to twist her little fingers into the sacred sign
before Eva's likeness. However, by-and-by she will distinguish
better. And are not Eva and Fritz indeed our family saints and
patrons ? I do believe their prayers bring down blessings on us
all.
For our family has been so much blessed lately ! The dear
mother's face looks so bright, and has regained something of its
old sweet likeness to the Mother of Mercy. And I am so
Elsi's Story. 217
happy, so brimfiil of happiness. And it certainly does make
me feel more religious than I did.
Not the home-happiness only I mean, but that best blessing
of all, that came first, before I knew that Gottfried cared for me,
the knowledge of the love of God to me, that best riches of
all, without which all our riches would be mere cares the riches
of the treasury of God freely opened to us in Christ Jesus our
Lord.
Gottfried is better than I ever thought he was. Perhaps he
really grows better every year j certainly he seems better and
dearer to me.
Chriemhild and Ulrich are to be married very soon. He is
gone now to see Franz von Sickingen, and his other relations in
the Rhineland, and to make arrangements connected with his
marriage. Last year Chriemhild and Atlantis stayed some weeks
at the old castle in the Thuringian Forest, near Eisenach. A
wild life it seemed to be, from their description, deep in the
heart of the forest, in a lonely fortress on a rock, with only a
few peasants' huts in sight ; and with all kinds of strange legends
of demon huntsmen, and elves, and sprites haunting the neigh-
bourhood. To me it seems almost as desolate as the wilder-
ness where John the Baptist lived on locusts and wild honey;
but Chriemhild thought it delightful. She made acquaintance
with some of the poor peasants, and they seemed to think her
an angel, an opinion (Atlantis says) shared by Ulrich's old
uncle and aunt, to say nothing of Ulrich himself At first the
aged Aunt Hermentrude was rather distant ; but on the Schon-
berg pedigree having been duly tested and approved, the old
lady at length considered herself free to give vent to her feel-
ings, whilst the old knight courteously protested that he had al-
ways seen Chriemhild's pedigree in her face.
And Ulrich says there is one great advantage in the solitude
and strength of his castle, ^he could offer an asylum at any time
to Dr. Luther, who has of late become an object of bitter hatred
to some of the priests.
Dr. Luther is most kind to our little Gretchen, whom he bap-
tized. He says little children often understand God better than
the wisest doctors of divinity.
2i8 Chronicles of t/ie Schonberg-Cotta Family,
Thekla has experienced her first sorrow. Her poor little
foundling, Nix, is dead. For some days the poor creature had
been ailing, and at last he lay for some hours quivering, as if with
inward convulsions; yet at Thekla's voice the dull, glassy eyes
would brighten, and he would wag his tail feebly as he lay on
his side. At last he died; and Thekla was not to be comforted,
but sat apart and shed bitter tears. The only thing which
cheered her was Christopher's making a grave in the garden for
Nix, under the pear tree where I used to sit at embroidery in
summer as now she does. It was of no use to try to laugh her
out of her distress. Her lip quivered and her eyes filled with
tears if any one attempted it Atlantis spoke seriously to her
on the duty of a little girl of twelve beginning to put away chil-
dish things; and even the gentle mother tenderly remonstrated
and said one day, when Dr. Luther had asked her for her favou-
rite, and had been answered by a burst of tears, '' My child, if you
mourn so for a dog, what will you do when real sorrows come?"
But Dr. Luther seemed to understand Thekla better than any
of us, and to take her part. He said she was a child, and her
childish sorrows were no more trifles to her than our sorrows
are to us; that from heaven we might probably look on the fall
of an empire as of less moment than we now thought the death
of Thekla*s dog; yet that the angels who look down on us from
heaven do not despise our little joys and sorrows, nor should
we those of the litde ones; or words to this effect. He has a
strange S3rmpathy with the hearts of children. Thekla was so
encouraged by his compassion, that she crept close to him and
laid her hand in his, and said, with a look of wistful earnestness,
" Will Nix rise again at the last day % Will there be dogs in the
other world?"
Many of us were appalled at such an irreverent idea; but Dr.
Luther did not seem to think it irreverent He said, " We know
less of what that other world will be than this little one, or than
that babe," he added, pointing to my little Gretchen, " knows of
the empires or powers of this world. But of this we are sure, the
world to come will be no empty, lifeless waste. See how full
and beautiful the Lord God has made all things in this passing,
perishing world of heaven and earth ! How much more beau-
Elsi's Story. 219
tiful, then, will he make that eternal incorruptible world 1 God
will make new heavens and a new earth. All poisonous, and
malicious, and hurtful creatures will be banished thence, all
that our sin has ruined. All creatures will not only be harm-
less, but lovely, and pleasant and joyful, so that we might play
with them. * The sucking child shall play on the hole of the
asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice'
den.' Why, then, should there not be little dogs in the new
earth, whose skin might be fair as gold, and their hair as bright
as precious stones?"*
Certainly, in Thekla's eyes, from that moment there has been
no doctor of divinity like Dr. Luther.
ToRGAU, November zo, zsi6.
The plague is at Wittemberg. We have all taken refuge here.
The university is scattered, and many, also, of the Augustinian
monks.
Dr. Luther remains in the convent at Wittemberg. We have
seen a copy of a letter of his, dated the 26th October, and ad-
dressed to the Venerable Father John Lange, Prior of Erfurt
Monastery.
" Health. I have need of two secretaries or chancellors,
since all day long I do nothing but write letters; and I know
not whether, always writing, I may not sometimes repeat the
same things. Thou wilt see.
"I am convent lecturer; reader at meals; I am desired to
be dually parish preacher ; I am director of studies, vicar of the
prior, (/.^., prior eleven times over,) inspector of the fish-ponds
at Litzkau, advocate of the cause of the people of Herzberg at
Toigau, lecturer on Paul and on the Psalms; besides what I have
said already of my constant correspondence. I have rarely
time to recite my Canonical Hours, to say nothing of my own
particular temptations from the world, the flesh, and the devil.
See what a man of leisure I am !
"Concerning Brother John Metzel I believe you have
already received my opinion. I will see, however, what I can
do. How can you think I can find room for your Sardana-
paluses and Sybarites? If you have educated them ill, you must
* Luther's Tischreden.
220 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
bear with those you have educated ill. I have enough useless
brethren; ^if, indeed, any are useless to a patient heart I am
persuaded that the useless may become more useful than those
who are the most useful now. Therefore bear with them for
the time.
" I think I have already written to you about the brethren
you sent me. Some I have sent to Magister Spangenbuig, as
they requested, to save their breathing this pestilential air.
With two from Cologne I felt such sympathy, and thought so
much of their abilities, that I have retained them, although at
much expense. Twenty-two priests, forty-two youths, and in
the university altogether forty-two persons are supported out of
our poverty. But the Lord will provide.
"You say that yesterday you began to lecture on the Sen-
tences. To-morrow I begin the Epistle to the Galatians;
although I fear that, with the plague among us as it is, I shall
not be able to continue. The plague has taken away already
two or three among us, but not all in one day; and the son of
our neighbour Faber, yesterday in health, to-day is dead; and
another is infected. What shall I sayl It is indeed here, and
begins to rage with great cruelty and suddenness, especially
among the young. You would persuade me and Master Bar-
tholomew to take refuge with you. Why should I fieel I hope
the world would not collapse if Brother Martin fell If the
pestilence spreads, I will indeed disperse the monks throughout
the land. As for me, I have been placid here. My obedience
as a monk does not suffer me to fly; since what obedience re-
quired once it demands still. Not that I do not fear death
(I am not the Apostle Paul but only the reader of the Apostle
Paul) ^but I hope the Lord will deliver me from my fear.
" Farewell; and be mindful of us in this day of the visitation
of the Lord, to whom be glory."
This letter has strengthened me and many. Yes, if it had
been our duty, I trust, iike Dr. Luther, we should have had
courage to remain. The courage of his act strengthens us; and
also the confession of fear in his words. It does not seem a
fear which hath torment, or which fetters his spirit It does
not even crush his cheerfulness. It is a natural fear of dying,
Elsk's Story. 22 1
which I also cannot overcome. From me, then, as surely from
him, when God sees it time to die, He will doubtless remove
the dread of death.
This season of the pestilence recalls so much to me of what
happened when the plague last visited us at Eisenach !
We have lost some since then, ^if I ought to call Eva and
Fritz lost But how my Hfe has been enriched ! My husband,
our little Gretchen; and then so much outward prosperity!
All that pressure of poverty and daily care entirely gone, and
so much wherewith to help others ! And yet, am I so entirely
free from care as I ought to be? Am I not even at times more
burdened with it?
When first I married, and had Gottfried on whom to unbur-
den every perplexity, and riches which seemed to me inexhaust-
ible, instead of poverty, I thought I should never know care
again.
But is it so 1 Have not the very things themselves, in their
possession, become cares? When I hear of these dreadful wars
with the Turks, and of the insurrections and disquiets in vari-
ous parts, and look round on our pleasant home, and gardens,
and fields, I think how terrible it would be again to be plunged
into poverty, or that Gretchen ever should be; so that riches
themselves become cares. It makes me think of what a good
man once told me : that the word in the Bible which is trans-
lated " rich," in speaking of Abraham, in other places is trans-
lated "heavy;" so that instead of reading, "Abraham left
Egypt rich in cattle and silver and gold," we might read ^^ heavy
in cattle, silver, and gold."
Yes, we are on a pilgrimage to the Holy City; we are in flight
from an evil world; and too often riches are weights which hin-
der our progress.
I find it good, therefore, to be here in the small, humble
house we have taken refuge in Gottfried, Gretchen, and I.
The servants are dispersed elsewhere; and it lightens my heart
to feel how well we can do without luxuries which were begin-
ing to seem like necessaries. Doctor Luthef s words come to
my mind : " The covetous enjoy what they have as little as
what they have not. They cannot even rejoice in the sunshine.
222 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
They tliink not what a noble gift the light iswhat an inex-
pressibly great treasure the sun is, which shines freely on all the
world."
Yes, God's common gifts are His most precious; and His
most precious gifts even life itself have no root in themselves.
Not that they are without root; they are better rooted in the
depths of His unchangeable love.
It is well to be taught, by such a visitation even as this pesti-
lence, the utter insecurity of everything here. " If the ship it-
self," as Gottfried says, " is exposed to shipwreck, who, then,
can secure the cargo 1" Henceforth let me be content with the
only security Doctor Luther says God will give us, ^the secu-
rity of His presence and care : " / will never leave thee'^
WlTTIMBBRG, JufU 15x7.
We are at home once more; and, thank God! our two house-
holds are undiminished, save by one death that of our young-
est sister, the baby when we left Eisenach. The professors and
students also have returned. Dr. Luther, who remained here
all the time, is preaching with more force and clearness than
ever.
The town is greatly divided in opinion about him. Doctor
Tetzel, the great Papal Commissioner for the sale of indul-
gences, has established his red cross, announcing the sale of
pardons, for some months, at Jiiterbok and Zerbst, not far from
Wittemberg.
Numbers of the townspeople, alarmed, I suppose, by the
pestilence into anxiety about their souls, have repaired to
Dr. Tetzel, and returned with the purchased tickets of indul-
gence.
I have always been perplexed as to what the indulgences
really give. Christopher has terrible stories about the money
paid for them being spent by Dr. Tetzel and others on taverns
and feasts; and Gottfried says, "It is a bargain between the
priests, who love money, and the people, who love sin."
Yesterday morning I saw one of the letters of indulgence for
the first time. A neighbour of ours, the wife of a miller, whose
weights have been a little suspected in the town, was in a state
Elsies Story, 223
*
of great indignation when I went to purchase some flour of
her.
"See!" she said; "this Dr. Luther will be wiser than the
Pope himself. He has refused to admit my husband to the
Holy Sacrament unless he repents and confesses to him,
although he took his certificate in his hand."
She gave it to me, and I read it. Certainly, if the doctors of
divinity disagree about the value of these indulgences. Dr.
Tetzel has no ambiguity nor uncertainty in his language.
" I," says the letter, " absolve thee from all the excesses, sins,
and crimes which thou hast committed, however great and enor-
mous they may be. I remit for thee the pains thou mightest
have had to endure in purgatory. I restore thee to participa-
tion in the sacraments. I incorporate thee afresh into the com-
munion of the Church. I re-establish thee in the innocence
and purity in which thou wast at the time of thy baptism. So
that, at the moment of thy death, the gate by which souls pass
into the place of torments will be shut upon thee; while, on
the contrary, that which leads to the paradise of joy will be
open to thee. And if thou art not called on to die soon, this
grace will remain unaltered for the time of thy latter end.
" In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost
. " Friar John Tetzel, Commissary, has signed it
with his own hand."
" To think," said my neighbour, " of the Pope promising my
Franz admittance into paradise; and Dr. Luther will not even
admit him to the altar of the parish church! And after spend-
ing such a sum on it! for the friar must surely have thought my
husband better off than he is, or he would not have demanded
gold of poor struggling people like us."
" But if the angels at the gate of paradise should be of the
same mind as Dr. Luther ]" I suggested. " Would it not be
better to find that out here than there 1"
"It is impossible," she replied; "have we not the Holy
Father's own word ? and did we not pay a whole golden florin 1
It is impossible it can be in vain."
" Put the next florin in your scales instead of in Dr. TetzeFs
224 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Fa7nily.
chest, neighbour/* said a student, laughing, as he heard her
loud and angry words ; " it may weigh heavier with your flour
than against your sins.'*
I left them to finish the discussion.
Gottfried says it is quite true that Dr. Luther in the confes-
sional in the city church has earnestly protested to many of his
penitents against their trusting to these certificates, and has
positively refused to suffer any to communicate, except on tlieir
confessing their sins, and promising to forsake them, whether
provided with indulgences or not.
In his sermon to the people last year on the Ten Command-
ments, he told them forgiveness was fireely given to the penitent
by God, and was not to be purchased at any price, least of all
with money.
WiTTBMBBRG, July x8.
The whole town is in a ferment to-day, on account of Dr.
Luther's sermon yesterday, preached before the Elector in the
Castle church.
The congregation was very large, composed of the court,
students, and townspeople.
Not a child or ignorant peasant there but could understand
the preacher's words. The Elector had procured especial in-
dulgences from the pope in aid of his church, but Dr. Luther
made no exception, in order to conciliate him. Hfe said the
Holy Scriptures nowhere demand of us any penalty or satis-
faction for our sins. God gives and forgives freely and without
price, out of his unutterable grace ; and lays on the forgiven no
other duty than true repentance and sincere conversion of the
heart, resolution to bear the cross of Christ, and to do all the
good we can. He declared also that it would be better to give
money freely towards the building of St. Petefs Church at
Rome, than to bargain with alms for indulgences ; that it was
more pleasing to God to give to the poor, than to buy these
letters, which, he said, would at the utmost do nothing more
for any man than remit mere ecclesiastical penances.
As we returned from the church together, Gottfried said,
" The battle-cry is sounded then at last ! The wolf has
assailed Dr. Luther's own flock, and the shepherd is roused
Elsi's Story, 225
"The battle-cry is sounded, Elsfe, but the battle is scarcely
begun."
And when we described tlie sermon to our grandmother, she
murmured,
"It sounds to me, children, like an old story of my child-
hood. Have I not heard such words half a century since in
Bohemia? and have I not seen the lips which spoke them
silenced in flames and blood ] Neither Dr. Luther nor any of
you know whither you are going. Thank God, I am soon
going to him who died for speaking just such words ] Thank
God I hear them again before I die ! I have doubted long
about them and about everything ; how could I dare to think a
few proscribed men right against the whole Church ? But since
these old words cannot be hushed, but rise from the dead
again, I think there must be life in them \ eternal life. Chil-
dren," she concluded, "tell me when Dr. Luther preaches
again ; I will hear him before I die, that I may tell your grand-
father, when I meet him, the old truth is not dead. I think it
would give him another joy, even before the throne of God."
WiTTBMBERG, AugUSt,
Christopher has returned from Jiiterbok. He saw there a
great pile of burning faggots, which Dr. Tetzel had caused to
be kindled in the market-place, " to burn the heretics," he said.
We laughed as he related this, and also at the furious threats
and curses that had been launched at Dr. Luther from the
pulpit in front of the iron money-chest. But our grandmother
said, "It is no jest, children; they have done it, and they will
do it again yet !"
WiTTEMBERG, November i, 1517.
All Saints' Day.
Yesterday evening, as I sat at the window with Gottfried in
the late twilight, hushing Gretchen to sleep, we noticed Dr.
Luther walking rapidly along the street towards the Castle
church. His step was firm and quick, and he seemed too full
of thought to observe anything as he passed. There was
something unusual in his bearing, which made my husband call
my attention to him. His head was erect and slightly thrown '
15
226 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
back, a^ when he preaches. He had a large packet of papers
in his hand, and although he was evidently absorbed with some
purpose, he had more the air of a general moving to a battle-
field than of a theologian buried in meditation.
This morning, as we went to the early mass of the festival,
we saw a great crowd gathered around the doors of the Castle
church; not a mob, however, but an eager throng of well-
dressed men, professors, citizens, and students; those within
the circle reading some writing which was posted on the door,
whilst around, the crowd was broken into little knots, in eager
but not loud debate.
Gottfried asked what had happened.
" It is only some Latin theses against the indulgences, by
Dr. Luther," replied one of the students, " inviting a disputation
on the subject"
I was relieved to hear that nothing was the matter, and
Gottfried and I quietly proceeded to the service.
" It is only an affair of the university," I said. " I was afraid
it was some national disaster, an invasion of the Turks, or some
event in the Elector's family."
As we returned, however, the crowd had increased, and the
debate seemed to be becoming warm among some of them.
One of the students was translating the Latin into German for
the benefit of the unlearned, and we paused to listen.
What he read seemed to me very true, but not at all remark-
able. We had oflen heard Dr. Luther say and even preach
similar things. At the moment we came up the words the
student was reading were,
" It is a great error for one to think to make satisfaction for
his sins, in that God always forgives gratuitously and from his
boundless grace, requiring nothing in return but holy living."
This sentence I remember distinctly, because it was so much
like what we had heard him preach. Other propositions fol-
lowed, such as that it was very doubtful if the indulgences could
deliver souls from purgatory, and that it was better to give alms
than to buy indulgences. But why these statements should
collect such a crowd, and excite such intense interest, I could
.not quite understand, unless it was because they were in Latin.
Elsk*s Story. 227
' One sentence, I observed, aroused very mingled feelings in
the crowd. It was the declaration that the Holy Scriptures
alone could settle any controversy, and that all the scholastic
teachers together could not give authority to one doctrine.
The students and many of the citizens received this announce-
ment with enthusiastic applause, and some of the professors
testified a quiet approval of it ; but others of the doctors shook
their heads, and a few retired at once, murmuring angrily as
they went
At the close came a declaration by Dr. Luther, that " what-
ever some unenlightened and morbid people might say, he was
no heretic."
" Why should Dr. Luther think it necessary to conclude with
a declaration that he is no heretic 9" I said to Gottfried as we
walked home. " Can anything be more full of respect for the
Pope and the fhurch than many of these theses are ) And
why should they excite so much attention ] Dr. Luther says no
more than so many of us think 1"
" True, Elsb," replied Gottfiied, gravely ; " but to know how
to say what other people only think, is what makes men poets
and sages ; and to dare to say what others only dare to think,
makes men martyrs or reformers, or both."
November 90.
It is wonderful the stir these theses make. Christopher
cannot get them printed fast enough. Both the Latin and
German printing-presses are engaged, for they have been trans-
lated, and demands come for them from every part of Ger-
many.
Dr. Tetzel, they say, is furious, and many of the prelates are
uneasy as to the result; the new bishop has dissuaded Dr.
Luther from publishing an explanation of them. It is reported
that the Elector Frederick is not quite pleased, fearing the effect
on the new imiversity, still in its infancy.
Students, however, are crowding to the town, and to Dr.
Luther's lectures, more than ever. He is the hero of the youth
of Germany.
But none are more enthusiastic about him than our grand-
mother. She insisted on being taken to church on All Saints'
228 Chronicles of the Schimberg-Cotta Family.
Day, and tottering up the aisle, took her place immediately
under Dr. Luther's pulpit, facing the congregation.
She had eyes or ears for none but him. When he cazne
down the pulpit stairs she grasped his hand, and faltered out a
broken blessing. And after she came home she sat a long time
in silence, occasionally brushing away tears.
When Gottfried and I took leave for the night, she held one
of our hands in each of hers, and said,
" Children ! be braver than I have been ; that man preaches
the truth for which my husband died. God sends him to 3roiL
Be faithful to him. Take heed that you forsake him not It
is not given to every one as to me to have the light they forsook
in yduth restored to them in old age. To me his words are like
voices from the dead. They are worth dying for."
My mother is not so satisfied. She likes what Dr. Luther
says, but she is afraid what Aunt Agnes might think of it She
thinks he speaks too violently sometimes. She does not like
any one to be pained. She cannot herself much like the way
they sell the indulgences, but she hopes Dr. Tetzel means well,
and she has no doubt that the Pope knows best ; and she is
convinced that in their hearts all good people mean the same,
only she is afraid, in the heat of discussion, every one will go
further than any one intends, and so there will be a great deal
of bad feeling. She thought it was quite right of Dr. Luther
quietly to admonish any of his penitents who were imagining
they could be saved without repentance ; but why he should
excite all the town in this way by these theses she could not un-
derstand; especially on All Saints* Day, when so many strangers
came from the country, and the holy relics were exhibited, and
every one ought to be absorbed with their devotions.
"Ah, little mother," said my father, "women are too tender-
hearted for ploughmen's work. You could never bear to break
up the clods, and tear up all the pretty wild flowers. But when
the harvest comes we will set you to bind up the sheaves, or to
glean beside the reapers. No rough hands of men will do that
so well as yours."
And Gottfried said his vow as doctor of divinity makes it as
much Dr. Luther's plain duty to teach true divinity, as his
Elsk's Story. 229
priestly vows oblige him to guard his flock from error and sin.
Gottfried says we have fallen on stormy times. For him that
may be best, and by his side all is well for me. Besides, I am
accustomed to rough paths. But when I look on our little
tender Gretchen, as her dimpled cheek rests flushed with sleep
on her pillow, I cannot help wishing the battle might not begin
in her time.
Dr. Luther counted the cost before he affixed these theses
to the church door. It was this which made him do it so
secretly, without consulting any of his friends. He knew there
was risk in it, and he nobly resolved not to involve any one else
-r-Elector, professor, or pastor ^in the danger he incurred
without hesitation ior himself.
Decemier 1517.
In one thing we are all agreed, and that is in our delight in
Dr. Luther's lectures on St Paul's Epistle to the Galatians.
Gottfried heard them and took notes, and reported them to us
in my father's house. We gather around him, all of us, in the
winter evenings, while he reads those inspiring words to us.
Never, I think, were words like them. Yesterday he was read-
ing to us, for the twentieth time, what Dr. Luther said on the
words, " Who loved me, and gave himself for me."
" Read with vehemency," he says, " those words * me,' and
* for me.' Print this * me * in thy heart, not doubting that thou
art of the number to whom this 'me' belongeth; also, that
Christ hath not only loved Peter and Paul, and given himself
for them, but that the same grace also which is comprehended
in this ' me,' as well pertaineth and cometh unto us as unto
them. For as we cannot deny that we are aU sinners, all lost ;
so we cannot deny that Christ died for our sins. Therefore,
when I feel and confess myself to be a sinner, why should I not
say that I am made righteous through the righteousness of
Christ, especially when I hear He loved me and gave himself
forme?"
And then my mother asked for the passages she most delights
in : " O Christ, I am thy sin, thy curse, thy wrath of God, thy
hell ; and contrariwise, thou art my righteousness, my blessing,
my life, my grace of God, my heaven."
230 Chronicks of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
And again, when he speaks of Christ being ^' made a curse
for us, the unspotted and undefiled Lamb of God wrapped in
our sins, God not laying our sins upon us, but upon his Son,
that he, bearing the punishment thereof, might be our peace,
that by his stripes we might be healed."
And again :
" Sin is a mighty conqueror, which devoureth all mankind,
learned and unlearned, holy, wise, and mighty men. This
t3rrant flieth upon Christ, and will needs swallow him up as he
doth all other. But he seeth not that Christ is a person of
invincible and everlasting righteousness. Therefore in this
combat sin must needs be vanquished and killed ; and righteous-
ness must overcome, live, and reign. So in Christ all sin is
vanquished, killed, and buried ; and righteousness remaineth
a conqueror, and reigneth for ever.
'^ In like manner Death, which is an omnipotent queen and
empress of the whole world, killing kings, princes, and all men,
doth mightily encounter with Life, thinking utterly to overcome
it and to swallow it up. But because the Life was immortal,
therefore when it was overcome, it nevertheless overcame, van-
quishing and killing Death. Death, therefore, through Christ,
'is vanquished and abolished, so that now it is but a painted
death, which, rotibed of its sting, can no more hurt those that
believe in Christ, who is become the death of death.
" So the curse hath the like conflict with the blessing, and
would condemn and bring it to nought ; but it cannot For
the blessing is divine and everlasting, therefore the curse must
needs give place. For if the blessing in Christ could be over-
come, then would God himself be overcome. But this is im-
possible; therefore Christ, the power of God, righteousness,
blessing, grace, and life, overcometh and destroyeth those mon-
sters, sin, death, and the curse, without war and weapons, in
this our body, so that they can no more hurt those that believe."
Such truths are indeed worth battling for; but who, save the
devil, would war against them? I wonder what Fritz would
think of it all
WiTTBMBBRC, February 15x8.
Christopher returned yesterday evening from the market-
Elsi's Sto%y. 231
place, where the students have been burning Tetzel's theses,
which he wrote in answer to Dr. Luther's. Tetzel hides behind
the papal authority, and accuses Dr. Luther of assailing the
Holy Father himself.
But Dr. Luther says nothing shall ever make him a heretic;
that he will recognise the voice of the Pope as the voice of
Christ himself. The students kindled this conflagration in the
market-place entirely on their own responsibility. They are
full of enthusiasm for Dr. Martin, and of indignation against
Tetzel and the Dominicans.
" Who can doubt," said Christopher, " how the conflict will
end, between all learning and honesty and truth on the one
side, and a few contemptible avaricious monks on the other ]"
And he proceeded to describe to us the conflagration and the
sayings of the students with as much exultation as if it had been
a victory over Tetzel and the indulgence-mongers themselves.
"But it seems to me," I said, "that Dr. Luther is not so
much at ease about it as you are. I have noticed lately that he
looks grave, and at times very sad. He does not seem to think
the victory won."
" Young soldiers," said Gottfried, "on the eve of their first
battle may be as blithe as on the eve of a toumay. Veterans
are grave before the battle. Their courage comes with the
conflict It will be thus, I believe, with Dr. Luther. For
surely the battle is coming. Already some of his old friends
fall off. They say the censor at Rome, Prierias, has condemned
and written against his theses."
" But," rejoined Christopher, " they say also that Pope Leo
praised Dr. Luthef s genius, and said it was only the envy of the
monks which found fault with him. Dr. Luther believes the
Pope only needs to learn the truth about these indulgence-
mongers to disown them at once."
" Honest men believe all men honest until they are proved
dishonest," said Gottfried drily; "but the Roman court is ex-
pensive and the indulgences are profitable."
This morning our grandmother asked nervously what was the
meaning of the shouting she had heard yesterday in the market-
place, and the glare of fire she had seen, and the crackling 1
232 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
" Only Tetzers lying theses," said Christopher. She seemed
relieved.
" In my early days," she said, "I learned to listen too eagerly
to sounds like that But in those times they burned other
things than books or papers in the market-places."
" Tetzel threatens to do so again," said Christopher.
" No doubt Ihey will, if tliey can," she replied, and relapsed
into silence.
XV.
AuGUSTiNiAN Convent, Main2, NcvemUr xsgj.
|EVEN years have passed since I have written anything
in this old chronicle of mine, and as in the quiet of
this convent once more I open it, the ink on the first
pages is already brown with time ; yet a strange familiar frag-
rance breathes from them, as of early spring flbwers. My
childhood comes back to me, with all its devout simplicity;
my youth, with all its rich prospects and its buoyant, ardent
hopes. My childhood seems like one of those green quiet
valleys in my native forests, like the valley of my native Eisenach
itself, when that one reach of the forest, and that one quiet town
with its spires and church bells, and that one lowly home with
its love, its cares, and jts twilight talks in the lumber-room,
were all the world I could see.
Youth rises before me like that first journey through tlic
forest to the University of Erfiirt, when the world opened to
me like the plains from the breezy heights, a battle-field for
glorious achievement, an unbounded ocean for adventure and
discovery, a vast field for noble work.
Then came another brief interval, when once again the lowly
home at Eisenach became to me dearer and more than all the
wide world beside, and all earth and all life seemed to grow
sacred and to expand before me in the light of one pure, holy,
loving maiden's heart I have seen nothing so heaven-like
since as she was. But then came the great crash which wrenched
my life in twain, and made home and the world alike forbidden
ground to me.
At first, after that, for years I dared not think of Eva. But
234 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family,
since my pilgrimage to Rome, I venture to cherish her memory
again. I thank God every day that nothing can erase that
image of purity and love from my heart. Had it not been for
that, and for the recollection of Dr. Luther's manly, honest
piety, there are times when the very existence of truth and holi-
ness on earth would have seemed inconceivable, such a chaos
of corruption has the world appeared to me.
How often has the little lowly hearth-fire, glowing from the
windows of the old home, saved me from shipwreck, when "for
many days neither sun nor stars appeared, and no small tem-
pest lay on me."
For I have lived during these years behind the veil of outward
shows, a poor insignificant monk, before whom none thought
it worth while to inconvenience themselves with masks or dis-
guises. I have spent hour after hour, moreover, in the confes-
sional. I have been in the sacristy before the mass, and at the
convent feast after it And I have spent months once and
again at the heart of Christendom, in Rome itself, where the
indulgences which are now stirring up all Germany are manu-
factured, and where the money gained by the indulgences is
spent; not entirely on the building of St Peter's or in holy wars
against the Turks !
Thank God that a voice is raised at last against this crying,
monstrous lie, the honest voice of Dr. Luther. It is ringing
through all the land. I have just returned from a mission
through Germany, and I had opportunities of observing the
effect of the theses.
The first time I heard of them was from a sermon in a church
of the Dominicans in Bavaria.
The preacher spoke of Dr. Luther by name, and reviled the
theses as directly inspired by the devil, declaring that their
wretched author would have a place in hell lower than all the
heretics, from Simon Magus downward. .
The congregation were roused and spoke of it as they dis-
persed. Some piously wondered who this new heretic could be
who was worse even than Huss. Others speculated what this
new poisonous doctrine could be ; and a great many bought a
copy of the theses to see.
Fritz's Story. 235:
In the Augustinian convent that evening they formed the
subject of warm debate. Not a few of the monks triumphed in
them as an eflfective blow against Tetzel and the Dominicans.
A few rejoiced and said these were the words they had been
longing to hear for years. Many expressed wonder that people
should make so much stir about them, since they said nothing
more than all honest men in the land had always thought.
A few nights afterwards I lodged at the house of Ruprecht
Haller, a priest in a Franconian village. A woman of quiet
and modest appearance, young in form but worn and old in
expression, with a subdued, broken-spirited bearing, was pre-
paring our supper, and whilst she was serving the table I began
to speak to the priest about the theses of Dr. Luther.
He motioned to me to keep silence, and hastily turned the
conversation.
When we were left alone he explained his reasons. " I gave
her the money for an indulgence letter last week, and she pur-
chased one from one of Dr. Tetzel's company," he said; "and
when she returned her heart seemed lighter than I have seen it
for years, since God smote us for our sins, and little Dietrich
died. I would not have her robbed of that little bit of comfort
for the world, bfe it true or false."
Theirs was a sad story, common enough in every town and
village as regarded the sin, and only uncommon as to the long-
ing for better things which yet lingered in the hearts of the
guilty.
I suggested her returning to her kindred or entering a.
convent
" She has no kindred left that would receive her," he said ;
" and to send her to be scorned and disciplined by a community
of nuns never!"
" But her soul !" I said, "and yours 1"
" The blessed Lord received such," he answered almost
fiercely, " before the Pharisees."
"Such received Him!" I said quietly, "but receiving Him
they went and sinned no more."
" And when did God ever say it was sin for a priest to marry]"
he asked; "not in the Old Testament, for the son of Elkanah-
236 Chronicles of the Sckdnherg^Cotta Family,
the priest and Hannah ministered before the Lord in the
temple, as perhaps our little Dietrich," he added in a low tone,
" ministers before Him in his temple now. And where in the
New Testament do you find it forbidden ]"
The Church forbids it" I said.
"Since wheni" he asked. "The subject is too near my
heart for me not to have searched to see. And five hundred
years ago, I have read, before the days of Hildebrand the pope,
many a village pastor had his lawfiil wife, whom he loved as I
love Bertha ; for God knows neither she nor I ever loved another."
"Does this satisfy her conscience?** I asked.
"Sometimes," he replied bitterly, "but only sometimes.
Oftener she lives as one under a curse, afraid to receive any
good thing, and bowing to every sorrow as her bitter desert,
and the foretaste of the terrible retribution to come."
" Whatever is not of faith is sin," I murmured.
" But what will be the portion of those who call what God
sanctions sin," he said, "and bring trouble and pollution into
hearts as pure as hers V*
The woman entered the room as he was speaking, and must
have caught his words, for a deep crimson fhished her pale
face. As she turned away, her whole frame quivered with a
suppressed sob. But afterwards, when the priest left the room,
she came up to me and said, looking with her sad, dark, lustreless
eyes at me, " You were saying that some doubt the efficacy of
these indulgences 1 But do you f I cannot trust him" she
added softly, "he would be afraid to tell me if he thought so."
I hesitated what to say. I could not tell an untruth ; and
before those searching, earnest eyes, any attempt at evasion
would have been vain.
" You do not believe this letter can do anything for me," she
said; "nor do /." And moving quietly to the hearth, she tore
the indulgence into shreds, and threw it on the flames.
"Do not tell him this," she said; "he thinks it comforts me."
I tried to say some words about repentance and forgiveness
being free to all.
"Repentance for me," she said, "would be to leave him,
would it not ]"
Fritds Story. 237
I could not deny it
" I will never leave him," she replied, with a calmness which
was more like principle than passion. "He has sacrificed life
for me; but for me he might have been a great and honoured
man. And do you think I would leave him to bear his blighted
life alone 1"
Ah ! it was no dread of scorn or discipline whidi kept her
from the convent
For some time I was silenced. I dared neither to reproach
nor to comfort At length I said, " Life, whether joyful or sorrow-
ful, is very short Holiness is infinitely better than happiness
here, and holiness makes happiness in the life beyond. If you
felt it would be for his good, you would do anything, at any
cost to yourself, would you noti"
Her eyes filled with tears. " You believe, then, that there is
some good left, even in me!" she said. ^*For this may God
bless you!" and silently she left the room.
Five hundred years ago these two lives might have been holy,
honourable, and happy; and now !
I left that house with a heavy heart, and a mind more
bewildered than before.
But that pale, worn face; those deep, sad, truthful eyes; and
that brow, that might have been as pure as the brow of a St
Agnes, have haunted me often since. And whenever I think of
it, I say,
"God be merciful to them and to me, sinners!"
For had not my own good, pure, pious mother doubts and
scruples almost as bitter 1 Did not she also live too often as if
under a curse ] Who or what has thrown this shadow on so
many homes } Who that knows the interior c^ many convents
dares to say they are holier than homes \ Who that has lived
with, or confessed many monks or nuns, can dare to say their
hearts are more heavenly than those of husband or wife, father
or mother % Alas ! the questions of that priest are nothing new
to me. But I dare not entertain them. For if monastic life is
a delusion, to what have I sacrificed hopes which were so ab-
sorbing, and might have been so pure ?
Regrets are burdens a brave man must cast off. For my little
i38 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
life what does it matter? But to see vice shamefully reigning
in the most sacred places, and sciniples, perhaps false, staining
the purest hearts, who can behold these things and not mourn ?
Crimes a pagan would have abhorred atoned for by a few florins;
sins which the Holy Scriptures scarcely seem to condemn, weigh-
ing on tender consciences like crimes ! What will be the end
of this chaos ?
The next night I spent in the castle of an old knight in the
Thuringian Forest, Otto von Gersdorf. He welcomed me very
hospitably to his table, at which a stately old lady presided, his
widowed sister.
** What is all this talk about Dr. Luther and his thesesi" he
asked; " only, I suppose, some petty quarrel between the monks!
And yet my nephew Ulrich thinks there is no one on earth like
this little Brother Martin. You good Augustinians do not like
the Black Friars to have all the profit; is that itl" he asked
laughing.
" That is not Dr. Luther's motive, at all events," I said ; " I
do not believe money is more to him than it is to the birds of
the air."
" No, brother," said the lady ; think of the beautiful words our
Chriemhild read us from his book on the Lord's Prayer."
" Yes ; you, and Ulrich, and Chriemhild, and Atlantis," re-
joined the old knight, " you are all alike ; the little friar has be-
witched you all."
The nahies of my sisters made my heart beat.
"Does the lady know Chriemhild and Atlantis Cottal" I
asked.
"Come, nephew Ulrich," said the knight to a young man who
just then entered the hall from the chase ; " tell this good brother
all you know of Fraiilein Chriemhild Cotta."
We were soon the best friends ; and long after the old knight
and his sister had retired, Ulrich von Gersdorf and I sat up dis-
coursing about Dr. Luther and his noble words and deeds, and
of names dearer to us both even than his.
" Then you are Fritz!" he said musingly after a pause ; " the
Fritz they all delight to talk of, and think no one can ever be
Fritz's Story, 239
equal to. You are the Fritz that Chriemhild says her mother
always hoped would have wedded that angel maiden Eva von
Schonberg, who is now a nun at Nimptschen ; whose h)ann-book
and * Theologia Teutsch ' she carried with her to the convent I
wonder you could have left her to become a monk," he continued;
** your vocation must have been very strong."
At that moment it certainly felt very we^. But I would not
for the world have let him see this, and I said, with as steady a
voice as I could command, " I believed it was God's will."
" Well," he continued, " it is good for any one to have seen
her, and to carry that image of purity and piety with him into
cloister or home. It is better than any painting of the saints,
to have that angelic, childlike countenance, and that voice sweet
as church music, in one's heart."
" It is," I said, and I could not have said a word more. Hap-
pily for me, he turned to another subject and expatiated for a
long time on the beauty and goodness of his little Chriemhild,
who was to be his wife,. he said, next year; whilst through my
heart only two thoughts remained distinct, namely, what my
mother had wished about Eva and me, and that Eva had taken
my " Theologia Teutsch " into the convent with her.
It took some days before I could remove that sweet, guile-
less, familiar face, to the saintly, unearthly height in my heart,
where only it is safe for me to gaze on it.
But I believe Ulrich thought me a very sympathizing listener,
for in about an hour he said,
" You are a patient and good-natured monk, to listen thus
to my romances. However, she is your sister, and I wish
you would be at our wedding. But, at all events, it will be
delightful to have news for Chriemhild and all of them about
Fritz."
I had intended to go on to Wittemberg for a few days, but
after that conversation I did not dare to do so at once. I re-
turned to the university of Tubingen, to quiet my mind a Httle
with Greek and Hebrew, under the direction of the excellent
Reuchlin, it being the will of our Vicar-General that I should
study the languages.
At Tubingen I found Dr. Luther's theses the great topic of
240 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
debate. Men of kaming rejoiced in the theses as an assault
on barbarism and ignorance ; men of straightforward integrity
hailed them as a protest against a system of lies and imposture;
men of piety gave thanks for them as a defence of holiness and
truth. The students enthusiastically greeted Dr. Luther as the
prince of the new age ; the aged Reuchlin and many of the pro-
fessors recognised him as an assailant of old foes from a new
point of attack.
Here I attended for some weeks the lectures of the young
doctor, Philip Melancthon (then only twenty-one, yet already a
doctor for four years), until he was summoned to Wittembeig,
which he reached on the 25th of August 15 18.
On business of the order, I was deputed about the same time
on a mission to the Augustinian convent at Wittemberg, so that
I saw him arrive. The disappointment at his first appearance
was great Could this little unpretending-looking youth be the
great scholar Reuchlin had recommended so warmly, and from
whose abilities the Elector Frederick expected such great results
for his new university %
Dr. Luther was among the first to discover the treasure hidden
in this insignificant frame. But his first Latin harangue, four
days after his arrival, won the admiration of all ; and very soon
his lecture-room was crowded.
This was the event which absorbed Wittemberg when first I
saw it.
The return to my old home was very strange to me. Such a
broad barrier of time and circumstance had grown up between
me and those most ^uniliar to me !
Els^, matronly, as she was, with her keys, her stores, her large
household, and her two children, the baby Fritz and Gretchen,
was in heart the very same to me as when we parted for my first
term at Erfiirt. Her honest, kind blue eyes, had the very same
look. But around her was a whole new world of strangers,
strange to me as her own new life, with whom I had no links
whatever.
With Chriemhild and the younger children, the recollection of
me as the elder brother seemed struggling with their reverence
for the priest. Christopher appeared to look on me with a mix-
Fritz's Story. 241
ture of pity, and respect, and perplexity, which prevented my
having any intimate intercourse with him at alL
Only my mother seemed unchanged with regard to me, although
much more aged and feeble. But in her affection there was a
clinging tenderness which pierced my heart more than the bit-
terest reproaches. I felt by the silent watching of her eyes how
she had missed me.
My father was little altered, except that his schemes appeared
to give him a new and placid satisfaction, in the very impossi-
bility of their fulfilment, and that the relations between him and
my grandmother were much more friendly.
There was at first a little severity in our grandmothers manner
to me, which wore off when we understood how much Dr. Luther's
teaching had done for us both ; and she never wearied of hear-
ing what he had said and done at Rome.
The one who, I felt, would have been entirely the same, was
gone for ever ; and I could scarcely regret the absence which
left that one image undimmed by the touch of time, and sur-
rounded by no barriers of change.
But of Eva no one spoke to me, except little Thekla, who
sang to me over and over the Latin h3rmns Eva had taught her,
and asked if she sang them at all in the same way.
I told her yes. They were the same words, the same melo-
dies, much of the same soft, reverent, innocent manner. But
little Thekla's voice was deep and powerful, and clear like a
thrush's ; and Eva's used to be like the soft murmuring of a dove
in the depth of some quiet wood ^hardly a voice at all an em-
bodied prayer, as if you stood at the threshold of her heart, and
heard the music of her happy, holy, childlike thoughts within.
No, nothing could ever break the echo of that voice to me.
But Thekla and I became great friends. She had scarcely
known me of old. We became friends as we were. There was
nothing to recall, nothing to efface. And Cousin Eva had been
to her as a star or angel in heaven, or as if she had been another
child sent by God out of some beautiful old legend to be her
friend.
Altogether, there was some pain in this visit to my old home.
I had prayed so eamesdy that the blank my departure had made
16
242 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
might be filled up ; yet now that I saw it filled, and the life of
my beloved running its busy course, with no-place in it for me,
it left a dreary feeling of exile on my heart If the dead could
thus return, would they feel anything of this 1 Not the holy
dead, surely. They would rejoice that the sorrow, having wrought
its work, should cease to be so bitter that the blank should,
not, indeed, l^e filled (no true love can replace another), but
veiled and made fruitful, as time and nature veil all ruins.
But the holy dead would revisit earth from a home, a Father's
house ; and that the cloister is not, nor can ever be.
Yet I would gladly have remained at Wittemberg. Compared
with Wittemberg, all the world seemed asleep. There it was
morning, and an atmosphere of hope and activity was around
my heart. Dr. Luther was there ; and, whether consciously or
not, all who look for better days seem to fix their eyes on him.
But I was sent to Mainz. On my journey thither I went out
of my way to take a new book of Dr. Luther's to my poor Priest
Ruprecht in Franconia. His village lay in the depths of a pine
forest. The book was the Exposition of the Lord's Prayer in
German, for lay and unlearned people. The priest's house was
empty ; but I laid the book on a wooden seat in the porch, with
my name written in it, and a few words of gratitude for his
hospitality. And as I wound my way through the forest, I
saw from a height on the opposite side of the valley a woman
enter the porch, and stoop to pick up the book, and then stand
reading it in the doorway. As I turned away, her figure still
stood motionless in the arch of the porch, with the white leaves
of the open book relieved against the shadow of the interior.
I prayed that the words might be written on her heart
Wonderful words of holy love and grace I knew were there,
which would restore hope and purity to any heart on which they
were written.
And now I am placed in this Augustinian monastery at Mainz
in the Rhine-land.
This convent has its own peculiar traditions. Here is a dun-
geon in which, not forty years ago (in 1481), died John of Wesel
^the old man who had dared to protest against indulgences,
and to utter such truths as Dr. Luther is upholding now.
Fritz's Story. ' 243
An aged monk of this monastery, who was young when John
of Wesel died, remembers him, and has often spoken to me
about him. The inquisitors instituted a process against him,
which was carried on, Hke so many others, in the secret of the
cloister.
It was said that he made a general recantation, but that two
accusations which were brought against him he did not attempt
in his defence to deny. They were these : " That it is not his
monastic life which saves any monk, but the grace of God;" and,
" That the same Holy Spirit who inspired the Holy Scriptures
alone can interpret them with power to the heart"
The inquisitors burned his books; at which, my informant
said, the old man wept
"Why," he said, should men be so inflamed against him]
There was so much in his books that was good, and must they
be all burned for the little evil that was mixed with the good?
Surely this was man's judgment, not God's not His who would
have spared Sodom, at Abraham's prayer, for but ten righteous,
had they been found there. O God," he sighed, "must the good
perish with the evill"
But the inquisitors were not to be moved. The books were
condemned and ignominiously burned in public; the old man's
name was branded with heresy; and he himself was silenced,
and left in the convent prison to die.
I asked the monk who told me of this, what were .the especial
heresies for which John of Wesel was condemned.
"Heresies against the Church, I believe," he replied. "I
have heard him in his sermons declare that the Church was
becoming like what the Jewish nation was in the days of our
Lord. * He protested against the secular splendours of the
priests and prelates against the cold ceremonial into which he
said the services had sunk, and the empty superstitions which
were substituted for true piety of heart and life. He said that
the salt had lost its savour; that many of the priests were thieves
and robbers, and not shepherds; that the religion in fashion
was little better than that of the Pharisees who put our Lord to
death ^a cloak for spiritual pride, and narrow, selfish bitterness.
He declared that divine and ecclesiastical authority were of very
244 * Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
different weight; that the outward professing Church was to be
distinguished from the true living Church of Christ; that the
power of absolution given to the priests was sacramental, and
not judicial. In a sermon at Worms, I once heard him say he
thought little of the Pope, the Church, or the Councils, as a
foundation to build our faith upon. ' Christ alone,' he declared,
* I praise. May the word of Christ dwell in us richly!'"
" They were bold words, " I remarked.
"More than that," replied the aged monk; "John of Wesel
protested that what the Bible did not hold as sin, neither could
he; and he is even reported to have said, * Eat on fast days, if
thou art hungry.* "
" That is a concession many of the monks scarcely need," I
observed. " His life, then, was not condemned, but only his
doctrine."
" I was sorry," the old monk resumed, " that it was necessary
to condemn him; for from that time to this, I never have heard
preaching that stirred the heart like his. When he ascended
the pulpit, the church was thronged. The laity understood and
listened to him as eagerly as the religious. It was a pity he
was a heretic, for I do not ever expect to hear his like again."
"You have never heard Dr. Luther preach 1" I said.
" Dr. Luther who wrote those theses they are talking so much
of?" he asked. " Do the people throng to hear his sermons,
and hang on his words as if they were words of lifel"
" They do," I replied. .
"Then," rejoined the old monk softly, "let Dr. Luther take
care. That was the way with so many of the heretical preachers.
With John of Goch at Mechlin, and John Wessel whom they
expelled from Paris, I have heard it was just the same. But,"
he continued, " if Dr. Luther comes to Mamz, I will certainly try
to hear him. I should like to have my cold, dry, old heart moved
like that again. Often when I read the holy Gospels John of
WeSel's words come back. Brother, it was like the breath of life."
The last man that ventured to say in the face of Germany
that man's word is not to be placed on an equality with God's,
and that the Bible is the only standard of truth, and the one
rule of right and wrong this is how he died!
Fritz's Story. 245
How will it be with the next with the man that is proclaim-
ing this in the face of the world nowl
The old monk turned back to me, after we had separated,
and said, in a low voice
** Tell Dr. Luther to take warning by John of Wesel. Holy
men and great preachers may so easily become heretics without
knowing it. And yet," he added, " to preach such sermons as
John of Wesel, I am not sure it is not worth while to die in
prison. I think I could be content to die, if I could hear one
such again! Tell Dr. Luther to take care; but nevertheless, if
he comes to Mainz I will hear him."
The good, then, in John of WeseFs words, has not perished,
in spite of the flames.
XVI.
WiTTEMBERG, ^ttfy X3, lS9a
ANY events have happened since last I wrote, both in
this little world and in the large world outside.
Our Gretchen has two little brothers, who are as
ingenious in destruction, and seem to have as many designs
against their own welfare, as their uncles had at their age, and
seem likely to perplex Gretchen, dearly as she loves them, much
as Christopher and Pollux did me. Chriemhild is married, and
has gone to her home in the Thuringian Forest. Atlantis is
betrothed to Conrad Winkelried, a Swiss student Pollux is
gone to Spain, on some mercantile affairs of the Eisenach house
of Cotta, in which he is a partner; and Fritz has been among
us once more. That is now about two years since. He was
certainly much graver than of old. Indeed he often looked
more than grave, as if some weight of sorrow rested on him.
But with our mother and the children he was always cheerful.
Gretchen and Uncle Fritz formed the strongest mutual at-
tachment, and to this day she often asks me when he will come
back; and nothing delights her more than to sit on my knee
before his picture, and hear me tell over and over again the
stories of our old talks in the lumber-room at Eisenach, or of
the long days we used to spend in the pine forests, gathering
wood for the winter fires. She thinks no festival could be so
delightful as that; and her favourite amusement is to gather
little bundles of willow or oak twigs, by the river Elbe, or on
the Diiben Heath, and bring them home for household use.
All the splendid puppets and toys her father brings her from
Nuremberg, or has sent from Venice, do not give her half the
Else's Story. 247
pleasure that she finds in the heath, when he takes her there,
and she returns with her little apron full of dry sticks, and her
hands as brown and dirty as a little wood-cutter^s, fancying she
is doing what Uncle Fritz and I did when we were children,
and being useful
Last summer she was endowed with a special apple and pear
tree of her own, and the fruit of these she stores with her httle
fagots to give at Christmas to a poor old woman we know.
Gottfried and I want the children to learn early that pure
joy of giving, and of doing kindnesses, which transmutes wealth
from dust into true gold, and prevents these possessions which
are such good servants from becoming our masters, and reduc-
ing us, as they seem to do so many wealthy people, into the
mere slaves and hired guardians of things,
I pray God often that the experience of poverty which I had
for so many years may never be lost. It seems to me a gift
God has given me, just as a course at the university is a gift
I liave graduated in the school of poverty, and God grant I
may never forget the secrets poverty taught me about the
struggles and wants of the poor.
The room in which I write now, with its carpets, pictures, and
carved furniture, is very different from the dear bare old lumber-
room where I began my Chronicle; and the inlaid ebony and
ivory cabinet on which my paper Hes is a different desk from
the piles of old books where I used to trace the first pages
slowly in a childish hand. But the poor man's luxuries will
always be the most precious to me. The warm sunbeams, shin-
ing through the translucent vine-leaves at the open window, are
fairer than all the jewel-like Venetian glass of the closed case-
ments which are now dying crimson the pages of Dr. Luther's
Commentary, left open on the window-seat an hour since by
Gottfried.
But how can I be writing so much about my own tiny world,
when all the world around me is agitated by such great fears
and hopes ?
At this moment, through the open window, I see Dr. Luther
and Dr. Philip Melancthon walking slowly up the street in close
conversation. The hum of their voices reaches me here,
248 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
although they are talking low. How different they look, and
are; and yet what friends they have become! Probably, in a
great degree, because of the difference. The one looks like a
veteran soldier, with his rock-like brow, his dark eyes, his vigor-
ous form, and his firm step; the other, with his high, expanded
forehead, his thin worn face, and his slight youthful frame, like
a combination of a young student and an old philosopher.
Gottfried says God has given them to each other and to Ger-
many, blessing the Church as he does the world by the union
of opposites, rain and sunshine, heat and cold, sea and land,
husband and wife.
How those two great men (for Gottfried says Dr. Melancthon
.is great, and I know that Dr. Luther is) love and reverence each
other 1 Dr. Luther says he is but the forerunner, and Melanc-
thon the true prophet; that he is but the wood-cutter clearing
the forest with rough blows, that Dr. Philip may sow the pre-
cious seed; and when he went to encounter the legate at Augs-
burg, he wrote, that if Philip lived it mattered little what became
of him.
But we do not think so, nor does Dr. Melancthon. "No
one," he says, " comes near Dr. Luther, and indeed the heart
of the whole nation hangs on him. Who stirs the heart of Ger-
many of nobles, peasants, princes, women, children ^as he
does \vith his noble faithful words V
Twice during these last years we have been in the greiatest
anxiety about his safety, once when he was summoned before
the legate at Augsburg, and once when he went to the great
disputation with Dr. Eck at Leipsic.
But how great the difference between his purpose when he
went to Augsburg, and when he returned from Leipsic !
At Augsburg he would have conceded anything, but the truth
about the free justification of every sinner who believes in
Christ. He reverenced the Pope ; he would not for the world
become a heretic I No name of opprobrium was so terrible to
him as that.
At Leipsic he had learned to disbelieve that the Pope had
any authority to determine doctrine, and he boldly confessed
that the Hussites (men till now abhorred in Saxony as natural
Elsi's Story, 249
enemies as well as deadly heretics) ought to be honoured for
confessing sound truth. And from that time both Dr. Luther
and Melancthon have stood forth openly as the champions of
the Word of God against the Papacy.
Now, however, a worse danger threatens him, even the bull
of excommunication which they say is now being forged at
Rome, and which has never yet failed to crush where it has
fallen. Dr. Luther has, indeed, taught us not to dread it as a
spiritual weapon, but we fear its temporal effects, especially if
followed by the ban of the empire.
Often, indeed, he talks of taking refuge in some other land ;
the good Elector, even himself, has at times advised it, fearing
no longer to be able to protect him. But God preserve him to
Germany !
June 23, 1520.
This evening, as we were sitting in my father's house, Chris-
topher brought us, damp from the press, a copy of Dr. Luther's
Appeal to His Imperial Majesty, and to the Christian Nobility
of the German Nation, on the Reformation of Christendom.
Presenting it to our grandmother, he said,
" Here, madam, is a weapon worthy of the bravest days of
the Schonbergs, mighty to the pulling down of strongholds."
"Ah," sighed our mother, "always wars and fightings! It is
a pity the good work cannot be done more quietly."
"Ah, grandmother," said my father, "only see how her
burgher life has destroyed the heroic spirit of her crusading
ancestors. She thinks that the Holy Places are to be won back
from the infidels without a blow, only by begging their pardon
and kissing the hem of their garments."
"You should hear Catherine Krapp, Dr. Melancthon's wife !"
rejoined our mother; "she agrees with me that these are terrible
times. She says she never sees the doctor go away without
thinking he may be immured in some dreadful dungeon before
they meet again."
" But remember, dear mother," I said, " your fears when first
Dr. Luther assailed Tetzel and his indulgences three years ago !
And who has gained the victory there 1 Dr. Martin is the
admiration of all good men throughout Germany; and poor
250 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
Tetzel, despised by his own party, rebuked by the legate, died,
they say, of a broken heart just after the great Leipsic disputation.'
" Poor Tetzel !" said my mother, " his indulgences could not
bind up a broken heart I shall always love Dr. Luther for
writing him a letter of comfort when he was djring, despised
and forsaken even by his own party. I trust that He who can
pardon has had mercy on his soul."
"Read to us, Christopher," said our grandmother; "your
mother would not shrink from any battle-field if there were
wounds there which her hands could bind."
"No," said Gottfried, "the end of war is peace, God's
peace, based on His truth. Blessed are those who in the
struggle never lose sight of the end."
Christopher read, not without interruption. Many things in
the book were new and startling to most of us :
"It is not rashly," Dr. Lutlier began, "that I, a man of the
people, undertake to address your lordships. The wretchedness
and oppression that now overwhelm all the states of Christen-
dom, and Germany in particular, force from me a cry of distress.
I am constrained to call for help; I must see whether God will
not bestow his Spirit on some man belonging to our country,
and stretch forth his hand to our unhappy nation."
Dr. Luther never seems to think he is to do ,the great work.
He speaks as if he were only fulfilling some plain humble duty,
and calling other men to undertake the great achievement; and
all the while that humble duty is the great achievement, and he
is doing it
Dr. Luther spoke of the wretchedness of Italy, the unhappy
land where the Pope's throne is set, her ruined monasteries, her
decayed cities, her corrupted people; and then he showed how
Roman avarice and pride were seeking to reduce Germany to a
state as enslaved. He appealed to the young emperor, Charles,
soon about to be crowned. He reminded all the rulers of
their responsibilities. He declared that the papal territory,
called the patrimony of St Peter, was the fiiiit of robbery.
Generously holding out his hand to the very outcasts his enemies
had sought to insult him most grievously by comparing him
with, he said,
Elsi's Story, 25 1
It is time that we were considering the cause of the Bohe-
mians, and re-uniting ourselves to them."
At these words my grandmother dropped her work, and
fervently clasping her hands, leant forward, and fixing her eyes
on Christopher, drank in every word with intense eager-
ness.
When he came to the denunciation of the begging friars, and
the recommendation that the parish priests should marry,
Christopher interrupted himself by an enthusiastic "vivat"
When, however, after a vivid picture of the oppressions and
avarice of the legates, came the solemn abjuration :
" Hearest thou this, O Pope, not most holy, but most sinful %
May God from the heights of his heaven soon hurl thy throne
into the abyss !" my mother turned pale, and crossed herself.
What impressed me most was the plain declaration :
" It has been alleged that the Pope, the bishops, the priests,
and the monks and nuns form the estate spiritual or ecclesias-
tical; while the princes, nobles, burgesses, and peasantry form
the secular estate or laity. Let no man, however, be alarmed
at this. All Christians constitute the spiritual estate; and the
only difference among them is that of the functions which they
discharge. We have all one baptism, one faith, and it is this
which constitutes the spiritual man."
If this is indeed true, how many of my old difficulties it
removes with a stroke ! All callings, then, may be religious
callings ; all men and women of a religious order. Then my
mother is truly and undoubtedly as much treading the way
appointed her as Aunt Agnes; and the monastic life is only one
among callings equally sacred.
When I said this to my mother, she said, " I as religious a
woman as Aunt Agnes 1 No, Els^ ! whatever Dr. Luther ven-
tures to declare, he would not say that. I do sometimes have
a hope that for His dear Son's sake God hears even my poor
feeble prayers ; but to pray night and day, and abandon all for
^ God, like my sister Agnes, that is another thing altogether."
But when, as we crossed the street to our home, I told Gott-
fried how much those words of Dr. Luther had touched me,
and asked if he really thought we in our secular calling were
252 Chronicles of t/ie Schonberg-Cotta Family.
not only doing our work by a kind of indirect permission, but
by a direct vocation from God, he replied,
" My doubt, Els^, is whether the vocation which leads men
to abandon home is from God at all ; whether it has either his
command or even his permission."
But if Gottfried is right, Fritz has sacrificed his life to a
delusion. How can I believe that? And yet if he could per-
ceive it, how life might change for him 1 Might he not even
yet be restored to us 1 But I am dreaming.
More and more burning words from Dr. Luther. To-day we
have been reading his new book on the Babylonish Captivity.
" God has said," he writes in this, " * Whosoever shall believe
and be baptized shall be saved.* On this promise, if we receive
it with faith, hangs our whole salvation. If we believe, our
heart is fortified by the divine promise ; and although all should
forsake the believer, this promise which he believes will never
forsake him. With it he will resist the adversary who rushes
upon his soul, and will have wherewithal to answer pitiless
death, and even the judgment of God." And he says in
another place, " The vow made at our baptism is sufficient of
itself, and comprehends more than we can ever accomplish.
Hence all other vows may be abolished. Whoever enters the
priesthood or any religious order, let him well understand that
the works of a monk or of a priest, however difficult they may
be, differ in no respect in the sight of God from those of a
countryman who tills the ground, or of a woman who conducts
a household. God values all things by the standard of faith.
And it often happens that the simple labour of a male or female
servant is more agreeable to God than the fasts and the works
of a monk, because in these faith is wanting."
What a consecration this thought gives to my commonest
duties ! Yes, when I am directing the maids in their work, or
sharing Gottfried's cares, or simply trying to brighten his home
at the end of the busy day, or lulling my children to sleep, can .
I indeed be serving God as much as Dr. Luther at the altar or
in his lecture-room 1 I also, then, have indeed my vocation
direct from God.
Elsi's Story, 253
How could I ever have thought the mere publication of a
book would have been an event to stir our hearts like the
arrival of a friend ! Yet it is even thus with every one of those
pamphlets of Dr. Luther's. They move the whole of our two
households, from our grandmother to Thekla, and even the
little maid, to whom I read portions. She says, with tears, "If
the mother and father could hear this in the forest !" Students
and burghers have not patience to wait till they reach home,
but read the heart-stirring pages as they walk through the
strees. And often an audience collects around some communi-
cative reader, who cannot be content with keeping the free,
liberating truths to himself.
Already, Christopher says, four thousand copies of the
"Appeal to the Nobility" are circulating through Germany.
I always thought before of books as the peculiar property of
the learned. But Dr. Luther's books are a living voice, a
heart God has awakened and taught, speaking to countless
hearts as a man talketh with his friend. I can indeed see now,
with my father and Christopher, that the printing-press is a
nobler weapon than even the spears and broadswords of our
knightly Bohemian ancestors.
WiTTBMBERG, Dectmber xo, xsaa
Dr. Luther has taken a great step to-day. He has publicly
burned the Decretals, with other ancient writings, on which the
claims of the court of Rome are founded, but which are now
declared to be forgeries; and more- than this, he has burnt the
Pope's bull of excommunication against himself.
Gottfried says that for centuries such a bonfire as this has not
been seen. He thinks it means nothing less than an open and
deliberate renunciation of the papal tyranny which for so many
hundred years has held the whole of western Christendom in
bondage. He took our two boys to see it, that we may remind
them of it in after years as the first great public act of free-
dom.
Early in the morning the town was astir. Many of the
burghers, professors, and students knew what was about to be
done; for this was no deed of impetuous haste or angry
vehemence.
254 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
I dressed the children early, and we went to my father's
house.
Wittemberg is as full now of people of various languages as
the tower of Babel must have been after the confusion of
tongues. But never was this more manifest than to-day.
Flemish monks from the Augustine cloisters at Antwerp;
Dutch students from Finland; Swiss youths, with their erect
forms and free mountain gait; knights from Prussia and Lithu-
ania; strangers even from quite foreign lands, all attracted
hither by Dr. Luther's living words of truth, passed under our
windows about nine o'clock this morning, in the direction of
the Elster gate, eagerly gesticulating and talking as they went
Then Thekla, Atlantis, and I mounted to an upper room, and
watched the smoke rising from the pile, until the glare of the
conflagration burst through it, and stained with a faint red the
pure daylight.
Soon afterwards the crowds began to return ; but there seemed
to me to be a gravity and solemnity in the manner of most,
different from the eager haste with which they had gone forth.
"They seem like men returning from some great Church
festival," I said.
" Or from lighting a signal-fire on the mountains, which shall
awaken the whole land to freedom," said Christopher, as they
rejoined us.
" Or from binding themselves with a solemn oath to liberate
their homes, like the Three Men at Griitli," said Conrad
Winkelried, the young Swiss to whom Atlantis is betrothed. *'
" Yes," said Gottfried, " fires which may be the beacons of a
world's deliverance, and may kindle the death-piles of those
who dared to light them, are no mere students' bravado."
"Who did the deed, and what was burned I" I asked.
" One of the masters of arts lighted the pile," my husband
replied, " and then threw on it the Decretals, the false Episdes
of St. Clement, and other forgeries, which have propped up the
edifice of lies for centuries. And when the flames which con-
sumed them had done their work and died away, Dr. Luther
himself, stepping forward, solemnly laid the Pope's bull of
excommunication on the fire, saying amidst the breathless
Else's Story. 255
silence, 'As thou hast'troubled the Lord's saints, may the eternal
fire destroy thee.' Not a word broke the silence until the last
crackle and gleam of those symbolical flames had ceased, and
then gravely but joyfully we all returned to our homes."
"Children," said our grandmother, "you have done well;
yet you are not the first that have defied Rome."
" Nor perhaps the last she will silence," said my husband.
" But the last enemy will be destroyed at last; and meantime
every martyr is a victor."
XVIL
HAVE read the whole of the New Testament through
to Sister Beatrice and Aunt Agnes. Strangely differ-
ent auditors they were in powers of mind and in
experience of life; yet both met, like so many in His days on
earth, at the feet of Jesus.
" He would not have despised me, even me," Sister Beatrice
would say. "Poor, fond creature, half-witted or half-crazed
they call me ; but He would have welcomed me."
"Does He not welcome you?" I said.
"You think sol Yes, I think I am sure he does. My
poor broken bits and remnants of sense and love, He will not
despise them. He will take me as I am."
One day when I had been reading to them the chapter in St
Luke with the parables of the lost money, the lost sheep, and
the prodigal. Aunt Agnes, resting her cheek on her thin hand,
and fixing her large dark eyes on me, listened with intense
expectation to the end; and then she said,
" Is that all, my child ? Begin the next chapter."
I began about the rich man and the unjust steward; but
before I had read many words,
" That will do," she said in a disappointed tone. " It is another
subject. Then not one of the Pharisees came after all ! If I
had been there among the hard, proud Pharisees as I might
have been when he began, wondering, no doubt, that he could
so forget himself as to eat with publicans and sinners if I
had been there, and had heard him speak thus, Eva, I must
have fallen at his feet and said, * Lord, I am a Pharisee no
more I am the lost sheep, not one of the ninety and nine
Eva's Story. 257
the wandering child, not the elder brother. Place me low, low
among the publicans and sinners ^lower than any; but only-
say thou earnest also to seek me, even tne,^ And, child, he
would not have sent me away ! But, Eva," she added, after a
pause, wiping away the tears which ran slowly over her withered
cheeks, " is it not said anywhere that one Pharisee came to
him r
I looked, and could find it nowhere stated positively that
one Pharisee had abandoned his pride, and self-righteousness,
and treasures of good works, for Jesus. It seemed all on the
side of the publicans. Aunt Agnes was at times distressed.
"And yet," she said, " I have come. I am no longer among
those who think themselves righteous, and despise others. But
I must come in behind all. It is I, not the woman who was a
sinner, who am the miracle of his grace; for since no sin so
keeps men fi:om him as spiritual pride, there can be no sin so
degrading in the sight of the pure and humble angels, or of the
Lord. But look again, Eva! Is there not one instance of
such as I being saved?"
I found the history of Nicodemus, and we traced it through
the Gospel from the secret visit to the popular Teacher at
night, to the open confession of the rejected Saviour before his
enemies.
Aunt Agnes thought this might be the example she sought,
but she wished to be quite sure.
"Nicodemus came in humility, to learn," she said. "We
never read that he despised others, or thought he could make
himself a saint."
At length we came to the Acts of the Apostles, and there,
indeed, we found the history of one, " of the straitest sect a
Pharisee," who verily thought himself doing God service by
persecuting the despised Nazarenes to death. And from that
time Aunt Agnes sought out and cherished every fragment of
St. Paul's history, and every sentence of his sermons and writ-
ings. She had found the example she sought of the " Pharisee
who was saved" in him who obtained mercy, "that in him
first God might show forth the riches of his long-suffering tei
those who thereafter, through his word, should helieve*"
17
258 Chf0ttcles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
She determined to leam Latin, that she might read these
divine words for herself. It was affecting to see her sitting
among the novices whom I taught, carefully spelling out the
words, and repeating the declensions and conjugations. I had
no such patient pupil; for although many were eager at first,
not a few relaxed after a few weeks' toil, not finding the results
very apparent, and said it would never sound so natural and
true as when Sister Ave translated it for them into German.
I wish some learned man would translate the Bible into Ger-
man. Why does not some one think of it? There is one Ger-
man translation from the Latin, the prioress says, made about
thirty or forty years ago; but it is very large and costly, and
not in language that attracts simple people. I wish the Pope
would spend some of the money from the indulgences on a new
translation of the New Testament. I think it would please God
much more than building St. Peter's.
Perhaps, however, if people had the German New Testa-
ment they would not buy the indulgences; for in all the Gos-
pels and Epistles I cannot find one word about buying pardons;
and, what is more strange, not a word about adoring the
Blessed Virgin, or about nunneries or monasteries. I cannot
see that the holy apostles founded one such community, or
recommended any one to do so.
Indeed, there is so much in the New Testament, and in what
I have read of the Old, about not worshipping any one but
God, that I have quite given up saying any prayers to the
Blessed Mother, for many reasons.
In the first place, I am much more sure that our Lord can
I'iear us always than his mother, because he so often sa3rs so.
And I am much more sure he can help, because I know all
power is given to him i heaven and in earth.
And in the next place, if I were quite sure that the Blessed
Virgin and the saiisut could hear me always, and could help
or would intercede, I am sure also that no one among them
not the Holy Motber herself- is half so compassionate and
full of love, or could understand us so well, as He who died
for us. In the Gospels, he was always more accessible than
the disciples. St. Peter might be impatient in the impetuosity
Eva^s Story, 259
of his zeaL Loving indignation might overbalance the forbear-
ance of St John the beloved, and he might wish for fire from
heaven on those who refused to receive his Master. All the
*
holy apostles rebuked the poor mothers who brought their
children, and would have sent away the woman of Canaan;
but he tenderly took the little ones into his arms from the
arms of the mothers the disciples had rebuked. His patience
was never wearied; He never misunderstood or discouraged
any one. Therefore I pray to Him and our Father in heaven
alone, and through Him alone. Because if he is more piti-
ful to sinners than all the saints, which of all the saints can be
beloved of God as he is, the well-beloved Son? He seems
ever3rthing, in every circumstance, we can ever want Higher
mediation we cannot find, tenderer love we cannot crave.
And very sure I am that the meek Mother of the Lord, the
disciple whom Jesus loved, the apostle who determined to know
nothing among his converts save Jesus Christ, and him crucified,
will not regret any homage transferred from them to Him.
Nay, rather, if the blessed Virgin, and the holy apostles have
heard how, through all these years, such grievous and unjust
things have been said of their Lord ; how his love has been
misunderstood, and he has been represented as hard to be en-
treated, He who entreats sinners to come and be forgiven;
has not this been enough to shadow their happiness, even in
heaven ?
A nun has lately been transferred to our convent, who came
originally from Bohemia, where all her relatives had been slain
for adhering to the party of John Huss, the heretic. She is
much older than I am, and she says she remembers well the
name of my family, and that my great-uncle. Aunt Agnes'
father, died a heretic/ She cannot tell what the heresy was, but
she believes it was something about the blessed sacrament and
the authority of the Pope. She had heard that otherwise he
was a charitable and holy man.
Was my father, then, a Hussite?
I have found the end of the sentence he gave me as his dying
legacy: "God so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish^
26o Chronicles of tlu Schonberg-Coita Family,
hut have everlasting life'* And instead of being ip a book not fit
for Christian children to read, as the priest who took it from me
said, it is in the Holy Scriptures!
Can it be possible that the world has come round again to
the state it was in when the rulers and priests put the Saviour
to death, and St. Paul persecuted the disciples as hereticsl
NiMPTSCHBN, zsao.
A wonderful book of Dr. Luther's appeared among us a few
weeks since, on the Babylonish Captivity; and although it was
taken from us by the authorities, as dangerous reading for nuns,
this was not before many among us had become acquainted
with its contents. And it has created a great ferment in the
convent. Some say they are words of impious blasphemy;
some say they are words of living truth. He speaks of the for-
giveness of sins being free; of the Pope and many of the priests
being the enemies of the truth of God; and of the life and call-
ing of a monk or nun as in no way holier than that of any
humble believing secular man or woman, a nun no holier than
a wife or a household servant !
This many of the older nuns think plain blasphemy. Aunt
Agnes says it is true, and more than true; for, from what I tell
her, there can be no doubt that Aunt Cotta has been a lowlier
and holier woman all her life than she can ever hope to be.
And as to the Bible precepts, they certainly seem far more
adapted to people living in homes than to those secluded in
convents. Often when I am teaching the young novices the
precepts in the Epistles, they say,
" But sister Ave, find some precepts for us. These sayings
are for children, and wives, and mothers, and brothers, and
sisters ; not for those who have neither home nor kindred on
earth."
Then if I try to speak of loving God and the blessed Saviour,
some of them say,
" But we cannot bathe his feet with tears, or anoint them
with ointment, or bring him food, or stand by his cross, as the
good women did of old. Shut up here, away from every one,
how can we show him that we love him V*
Eva^s Story. 261
And I can only say, " Dear sisters, you are here now; there-
fore surely God will find some way for you to serve him here."
But my heart aches for them, and I doubt no longer, I feel
sure God can never have meant ihese young, joyous hearts to
be cramped and imprisoned thus.
Sometimes I talk about it with Aunt Agnes; and we consider
whether, if these vows are indeed irrevocable, and these children
must never see their homes again, the convent could not one
day be removed to some city where sick and suffering men
and women toil and die ; so that we might, at least, feed the
hungry, clothe the naked, and visit and minister to the sick and
sorrowful. That would be life once more, instead of this mono-
tonous routine, which is not so much death as mechanism an
inanimate existence which has never been life.
Octeher, X59a
Sister Beatrice is very ill. Aunt Agnes has requested as an
especial favour to be allowed to share the attending on her
with me. Never was gentler nurse or more grateful patient
It goes to my heart to see Aunt Agnes meekly learning fi:om
me how to render the little services required at the sick-bed.
She smiles, and says her feeble blundering fingers had grown
into mere machines for turning over the leaves of prayer-books,
just as her heart was hardening into a machine for repeating
prayers. Nine of the young nuns. Aunt Agnes, Sister Beatrice,
and I, have been drawn very closely together of late. Among
the noblest of these is Catherine von Bora, a young nun, about
twenty years of age. There is such truth in her full dark eyes,
which look so kindly and frankly into mine, and such character
in the firmly-closed mouth. She declines learning Latin, and
has not much taste for learned books; but she has much clear
practical good sense, and she, with many others, delights greatly
in Dr. Luther's writings. They say they are not jbooks; they
are a living voice. Every firagment of information I can give
them about the doctor is eagerly received, and many rumours
reach us of his influence in the world. When he was near
Nimptschen, two years ago, at the great Leipsic disputation,
we heard that the students were enthusiastic about him, and
that the common people seemed to drink in his words almost
262 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
as they did our Lord's when he spoke upon earth; and what is
more, that the lives of some men and women at the court have
been entirely changed since they heard him. We were told he
had been the means of wonderful conversions; but what was
strange in these, conversions was, that those so changed did not
abandon their position in life, but only their sins, remaining
where they were when God called them, and distinguished from
others, not by veil or cowl, but by the light of holy works.
On the other hand, many, especially among the older nuns, have
received quite contrary impressions, and regard Dr. Luther as a
heretic, worse than any who ever rent the Church. These look
very suspiciously on us, and subject us to many annoyances, hin-
dering our conversing and reading together as much as possible.
We do, indeed, many of us wonder that Dr. Luther should
use such fierce and harsh words against the Pope*s servants.
Yet St. Paul even "could have wished that those were cut off"
that troubled his flock; and the very lips of divine love launched
woes against hypocrites and false shepherds severer than any
that the Baptist or Elijah ever uttered in their denunciations
from the wilderness. It seems to me that the hearts which are
tenderest towards the wandering sheep will ever be severest
against the seducing shepherds who lead them astray. Only
we need always to remember that these very false shepherds
themselves are, after all, but wretched lost sheep, driven hither
and thither by the great robber of the fold !
X52Z.
Just now the hearts of the little band among us who owe so
much to Dr. Luther are lifted up night and day in prayer to
God for him. He }s soon to be on his way to the Imperial
Diet at Worms; He has the Emperor's safe-conduct, but it is
said this did not save John Huss from the fldmes. In our
prayers we are much aided by his own Commentary on the
Book of Psalms, which I have just received from Uncle Cotta's
printing-press.
This is now Sister Beatrice's great treasure, as I sit by her
bed-side and read it to her.
He says that "the mere frigid use of the Psalms in the
canonical hours, though little understood, brought some sweet
Eva^s Story. 263
ness of the breath of life to humble hearts of old, like the faint
fragrance in the air not far from a bed of roses."
He says, '^ All other books give us the words and deeds of
the saints, but this gives us their inmost souls." He calls the
Psalter "the little Bible." "There," he says, "you may look
into the hearts of the saints as into Paradise, or into the opened
heavens, and see the fair flowers or the shining stars, as it werei
of their affections springing or beaming up to God, in response
to his benefits and blessings."
March, zsaz.
News has reached me tonlay from Wittembeig which makes
me feel indeed that the days when people deem they do God
service b^ persecuting those who love him, are too truly come
back. Thekla writes me that they have thrown Fritz into the
convent prison at Mainz, for spreading Dr. Luthef s doctrine
among the monk& A few lines sent through a friendly monk
have told them of this. She sent them on to me.
" My beloved ones," he writes, " I am in the prison where,
forty years ago, John of Wesel died for the truth. I am ready
to die if God wills it so. His truth is worth dying for, and his
love will strengthen me. But if I can I will escape, for the
truth is worth living for. If, however, you do not hear of me
again, know that the truth I died for is Christ's, and that the
love which sustained me is Christ himself. And likewise, that
to the last I pray for you all, and for va; and tell her that the
thought of her has helped me often to believe ii goodness and
truth, and that I look assuredly to meet her and all of you
again. Friedrich Schonberg Cotta."
In prison and in peril of life! Death itself cannot, I know,
more completely separate Fritz and me than we are separated
already. .Indeed, of the death even of one of us, I have often
thought as bringing us a step nearer, rending one veil between us.
Yet, now that it seems so possible, that perhaps it has already
come, I feel there was a kind of indefinable sweetness in being
only on the same earth together, in treading the same pilgrim
way. At least we could help each other by prayer; and now,
it he is indeed treading the streets of the heavenly city, so high
above, the world does seem darker.
264 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
But, alas! he may mt be in the heavenly city, but in some
cold earthly dungeon, suffering I know not what !
- I have read the words over and over, until I have almost lost
their meaning. He has no morbid desire to die. He will
escape if he can, and he is daring enough to accomplish much.
And yet, if the danger were not great, he would not alarm Aunt
Cotta with even the possibility of death. He alwa)rs considered
others so tenderly.
He says I have helped him, him who taught and helped m^,
a poor ignorant child, so much ! Yet I suppose it may be so.
It teaches us so much to teach others. And we always under-
stood each other so peifectly with so few words. I feel as if
blindness had fallen on me, when I think of him now. My
heart gropes about in the dark and cannot find him.
But then I look up, my Saviour, to thee. "To thee the
night and the day are both alike." I dare not think he is
suffering; it breaks my heart I cannot rejoice as I would in
thinking he may be in heaven. I know not what to ask, but
thou art with him as with me. Keep him close under the
shadow of thy wing. There we are safe^ and there we are
together. And oh, comfort Aunt Cotta ! She must need it sorely.
Fritz, then, like our little company at Nimptschen, loves the
words of Dr. Luther. I When I think of this I rejoice almost
more than I weep for him. These truths believed in our hearts
seem to unite us more than prison or death can divide. When
I think of this I can sing once more St. Bernard's hymn ;
SALVE CAPUT CRUENTATUM.
Hall ! thou Head, so bruised and wounded,
With the crown of thorns surrounded,
Smitten with the mocking reed,
Wounds which inay not cease to bleed
Trickling faint and slow.
Hdl I from whose most blessed brow
None can wipe the blood-drops now ;
All the bloom of life has fled,
Mortal paleness there instead ;
Thou before whose presence dread
Angels trembling bow.
All thy vigour and thy lifb
Fading in this bitter strife ;
Death his stamp on thee has set,
Hollow and emaciate.
Faint and drooping there.
Thou this agony and scorn
Hast for me a sinner borne !
Me, unworthy, all for me !
With those wounds of love on thee.
Glorious Face, appear I
Yet in this thine agony.
Faithful Shepherd, think o^me
From whose lips of love divine
Sweetest draughts of life are mine,
Purest hooey flows;
Eva's Story.
All uainntlir or thy thought.
Unto me thy head indioc
Let that dying hud of thine
Witli thee in Ihy tacred wi
IyinB with thu on thy on
soul, be near,
wthyielflomal
XVIIl.
WiTTBMBBltG, A/rl t, Z59t.
\JL LUTHER is gone. We all feel like a famUy be-
reaved of OUT fadier.
The professors and chief burghers, with numbers
of the students, gathered around the door of the Augustinian
Convent this morning to bid him farewell Gottfried Reichen-
bach was near as he entered the carriage, and heard him say,
as he tinned to Melancthon, in a faltering voice, " Should I not
return, and should my enemies put me to death, O my brother,
cease not to teach and to abide steadfastly in the truth. Lab-
our in my place, for I shall not be able to labour mysel If you
be spared it matters little that I perish.*'
And so he drove off. And a few minutes after, we, who were
waiting at the door, saw him pass. He did not forget to smile
at Els^ and her little ones, or to give a word of farewell to our
dear blind father as he passed us. But there was a grave
steadfastness in his countenance that made our hearts full of
anxiety* As the usher with the imperial standard who preceded
him, and then Dr. Luthef s carriage, disappeared round a comer
of the street, our grandmother, whose chair had been placed at
the door that she might see him pass, murmured, as if to her-
self,
" Yes, it was with just such a look they went to the scaffold
and the stake when I was young.*'
I could see little, my eyes were so blinded with tears ; and
when our grandmother said this, I could bear it no longer, but
ran up to my room, and here I have been ever since. My
toother and Elsh and all of them say I have no control over my
Thekla*s Story. 267
feelings; and I am afraid I have not But it seems to me as if
every one I lean my heart on were always taken away. First,
there was Eva. She always understood me, helped me to under-
stand myself; did not laugh at my perplexities as childish, did not
think my over-eagerness was always heat of temper, but met my
blundering efiforts to do right Different as she was from me
(different as an angel from poor bewildered blundering Giant
Christopher in Elsb's old legend), she always seemed to come
down to my level and see my difficulties from where I stood,
and so helped me over them ; whilst every one else sees them
from above, and wonders any on^ can think such trifles troubles
at all Not, indeed, that my dear mother and Elsb are proud,
or mean to look down on any one; but Elsb is so unselfish, her
whole life is so bound up in others, that she does not know
what more wilful natures have to contend with. Besides, she
is now out of the immediate circle of our everyday life at home.
Then our mother is so gentle ; she is frightened to think what
sorrows life may bring me with the changes that must come,
if little things give me such joy or grief now. I know she
feels for me often more then she dares let me see ; but she is
always thinking of arming me for the trials she believes must
come, by teaching me to be less vehement and passionate about
trifles now. But I am afraid it is useless. I think every crea-
ture must suffer according to its nature ; and if God has made
our capacity for joy or sorrow deep, we cannot fill up the
channel and say, " Hitherto I will feel; so far, and no further."
The waters are there, soon they will recover for themselves the
old choked-up courses; and meantime they will overflow. Eva
also used to say, " that our armour must grow with our growth,
and our strength with the strength of our conflicts ; and that
there is only one shield which does this, the shield of faith, a
living, daily trust in a living, ever-present God."
But Eva went away. And then Nix died. I suppose if I saw
any child now mourning over a dog as I did over Nix, I should
wonder much as they all did at me then. But Nix was not only
a dog to me. He was Eisenach and my childhood; and a
whole world of love and dreams seemed to die for me with
Nix.
268 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
To all the rest of the world I was a little vehement giil of
fourteen; to Nix I was mistress, protector, ever3rthing. It was
weeks before I could bear to come in at the front door, where
he used to watch for me with his wistful eyes, and bound with
cries of joy to meet me. I used to creep in at the garden gate.
And then Nix's death was the first approach of Death to me,
and the dreadful power was no less a power because its shadow
fell first for me on a faithful dog. I began dimly to feel that
life, which before that seemed to be a mountain-path alwa)rs
mounting and mounting through golden mists to I know not
what heights of beauty and joy, did not end on the heights, but
in a dark unfathomed abyss, and that however dim its course
might be, it has, alas, no mists, or uncertainty around the nature
of its close, but ends certainly, obviously, and universally in
death.
I could not tell any one what I felt I did not know myself.
How can we understand a labyrinth until we are through it f
I did not even know it was a labyrinth. I only knew that a
light had passed away from everything, and a shadow had fallen
in its place.
Then it was that Dr. Luther spoke to me of the other world,
beyond death, which God would certainly make more full and
beautiful than this; ^the world on which the shadow of death
can never come, because it lies in the eternal sunshine, on the
other side of death, and all the shadows fall on this side. That
was about the time of my first communion, and I saw much of
Dr. Luther, and heard him preach. I did not say much to him,
but he let down a light into my heart which, amidst all its wan-
derings and mistakes, will, I believe, never go out
He made me understand something of what our dear heavenly
Father is, and that willing but unequalled Sufferer that gracious
Saviour who gave himself for our sins, even for mine. And he
made me feel that God would understand me better than any
one, because love always understands, and the greatest love
understands best, and God is love.
Elsb and I spoke a little about it sometimes, but not much.
I am still a child to lsb and to all of them, being the youngest,
and so much less self-controlled than I ought to be. Frita
Thekla's Story. 269
understood it best; at least, I could speak to him more freely,
I do not know why. Perhaps some hearts are made to answer
naturally to each other, just as some of the furniture always
vibrates when I touch a particular string of the lute, while
nothing else in the room seems to feel it Perhaps, too, sorrow
deepens the heart wonderfully, and opens a channel into the
depths of all other hearts. And I am sure Fritz has known very
deep sorrow. What, I do not exactly know; and I would not
for the world txy to find out If there is a secret chamber in
his heart, which he cannot bear to open to any one, when J
think his thoughts are there, would I not turn aside my eyes
and creep softly away, that he might never know I had found
it outi
The innermost sanctuary of his heart is, however, I know, not
a chamber of darkness and death, but a holy place of daylight,
for God is there.
^ Hours and hours Fritz and I spoke of Dr. Luther, and what
he had done for us both; more, perhaps, for Fritz than even for
me, because he had suffered more. It seems to me as if we
and thousands besides in the world had been worshipping before
an altar-picture of our Saviour, which we had been told was
painted by a great master after a heavenly pattern. But all we
could see was a grim, hard, stem countenance of one sitting on
a judgment-throne; in his hands lightnings, and worse lightnings
buried in the cloud of his severe and threatening brow.'- And
then, suddenly we heard Dr. Luther's voice behind us saying,
in his ringing, inspiriting tones, " Friends, what are you doing 1
That is not the right painting. These are only the boards
which hide the master's picture." And so saying, he drew aside
the terrible image on which we had been hopelessly gazing,
vainly trying to read some traces of tenderness and beauty there.
And all at once the real picture was revealed to us, the picture
of the real Christ, with the look on his glorious face which he
had on the cross, when he said of his murderers, " Father, for-
give them ; they know not what they do ;" and to his mother,
" Woman, behold thy son ;" or to the sinful woman who washed
his feet, " Go in peace."
Fritz and I also spoke ver}' often of Eva. At least, he liked
2/0 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
me to speak of her while he listened. And I never weaiy of
speaking of our Eva.
But then Fritz went away. And now it is many weeks since
we have heard from him; and the last tidings we had were that
little note from the convent-prison of Mainz !
And now Dr. Luther is gone gone to the stronghold of his
enemies gone, perhaps, as our grandmother sa3rs, to martyr-
dom !
And who will keep that glorious revelation of the true, loving,
pardoning God open for us, ^with a steady hand keep open
those false shutters, now that he is withdrawn? Dr. Melancthon
may do as well for the learned, for the theologians ; but who
will replace Dr. Luther to us, to the people, to working men
and eager youths, and to women and to children % Who will
make us feel as he does that religion is not a study, or a pro-
fession, or a system of doctrines, but life in God ; that prayer is
not, as he said, an ascension of the heart as a spiritual exercisf
into some vague airy heights, but the lifting of the heart to God,
to a heart which meets us, cares for us, loves us inexpressibly?
Who will ever keep before us as he does that " Our Father,"
which makes all the rest of the Lord's Prayer and all prayer
possible and helpful 1 No wonder that mothers held out their
children to receive his blessing as he left us, and then went
home weeping, whilst even strong men brushed away tears from
their eyes.
It is true. Dr. Bugenhagen, who has escaped from persecution
in Pomerania, preaches fervently in his pulpit; and Archdeacon
Carlstadt is full of fire, and Dr. Melancthon full of light ; and
many good, wise men are left But Dr. Luther seemed the
heart and soul of all. Others might say wiser things, and he
might say many things others would be too wise to say, but it
is through Dr. Luther's heart that God has revealed His heart
and His word to thousands in our country, and no one can ever
be to us what he is.
Day and night we pray for his safety.
Christopher has returned from Erfurt, where he heard Dr.
Luther preach.
Thekld*s Story. 271
He told us that in many places his progress was like that of
a beloved prince through his dominions ; of a prince who was
going out to some great battle for his land.
Peasants blessed him ; poor men and women thronged around
him and entreated him not to trust his precious life among his
enemies. One aged priest at Nuremberg brought out to him a
portrait of Savonarola, the good priest whom the Pope burned
at Florence not forty years ago. One aged widow came to him
and said her parents had told her God would send a deliverer
to break the yoke of Rome, and she thanked God she saw him
before she died. At Erfurt sixty burghers and professors rode
out some miles to escort him into the city. There, where he
had relinquished all earthly prospects to beg bread as a monk
through the streets, the streets were thronged with grateful men
and women, who welcomed him as their Hberator from false-
hood and spiritual tyranny.
Christopher heard him preach in the church of the Augustin-
ian Convent, where he had (as Fritz told me) suffered such
agonies of conflict. He stood there now an excommunicated
man, threatened with death; but he stood there as victor, through
Christ, over the tyranny and lies of Satan. He seemed entirely
to forget his own danger in the joy of the eternal salvation he
came to proclaim. Not a word, Christopher said, about him-
self, or the Diet, or the Pope's bull, or the Emperor, but all
about the way a sinner may be saved, and a believer may be
joyfuL "There are two kind of works," he said; "external
works, our own works. These are worth little. One man
builds a church; another makes a pilgrimage to St Peter's; a
third fasts, puts on the hood, goes barefoot All these works
are nothing, and will perish. Now, I will tell you what is the
true good work. God hath raised again a man^ the Lord Jesus
Christy in order thai he may crush deaths destroy sin, shut the
gates ofhelL This is the work of salvation. The devil believed
he had the Lord in his power when he beheld him between
two thieves, suffering the most shameful martyrdom, accursed
both of Heaven and man. But God put forth his might, and
annihilated death, sin, and hell. Christ bath won the victpry.
This is the great news ! And we are saved by his work, not
272 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
by our works. The Pope says something very different I tell
you the holy Mother of God herself has been saved, not by her
virginity, nor by her maternity, nor by her purity, nor by her
works, but solely by means of fkith, and by the work of God."
As he spoke the gallery in which Christopher stood listening
cracked. Many were greatly terrified, and even attempted to
rush out Dr. Luther stopped a moment, and then stretching
out his hand said, in his clear, firm voice, " Fear not, there is
no danger. The devil would thus hinder the preaching of the
gospel, but he will not succeed." Then returning to his text,
he said, " Perhaps you will say to me, ' You speak to us much
about faith, teach us how we may obtain it* Yes, indeed, that
is what I desire to teach you. Our Lord Jesus Christ has said,
^ Peace he unto you. Behold my hands.* And this is as if he
said, ' O man, it is I alone who have taken away thy sins, and
who have redeemed thee, and now thou hast peace, saith the
Lord.* **
And he concluded,
" Since God has saved us, let us so order our works that he
may take pleasure therein. Art thou rich] Let thy goods be
serviceable to the poor. Art thou poor? Let thy services be
of use to the rich. If thy labours are useless to all but thyself,
the services thou pretendest to render to God are a mere lie.**
Christopher left Dr. Luther at Erfurt He said many tried
to persuade the doctor not to venture to Worms ; others reminded
him of John Huss, burned in spite of the safe-conduct And
as he went, in some places the papal excommunication was
affixed on the walls before his eyes ; but he said, " If I perish,
the truth will not**
And nothing moved him from his purpose. Christopher was
most deeply touched with that sermon. He says the text,
^^ Peace be unto you; and when he had so said Jesus showed unto
them his hands and his side,** rang through his heart all the way
home to Wittemberg, through the forests and the plain. The
pathos of the clear true voice we may never hear again writes
them on his heart; and more than that, I trust, the deeper
pathos of the voice which uttered the cry of agony X)nce on the
cross for us, the agony which won the peace.
Theklas Story, 273
Yes; when Dr. Luthei speaks he makes us feel we have to
do with persons, not with things, with the devil who hates us,
with God who loves us, with the Saviour who died for us. It
is not holiness only and justification, or sin and condemnation.
It is we sinning and condemned, Christ suffering for us, and
God justifjdng and loving us. It is all I and thou. He brings
us face to face with God, not merely sitting serene on a distant
imperial throne, frowning in terrible majesty, or even smiling
in gracious pity, but coming down to us close, seeking us, and
caring, caring unutterably much, that we, even we, should be
saved,
I never knew, until Dr. Luther drove out of Wittemberg, and
the car with the cloth curtains to protect him from the weather,
which the town had provided, passed out of sight, and I saw
the tears gently flowing down my mother's face, how much she
loved and honoured him.
She seems almost as anxious about him as about Fritz; and
she did not reprove me that night when she came in and found
me weeping by my bed. She only drew me to her and
smoothed down my hair, and said, " Poor little Thekla I God
will teach us both how to have none other gods but himself.
He will do it very tenderly; but neither thy mother nor tliy
Saviour can teach thee this lesson without many a bitter tear."
18
XIX.
Jfrii's 51org*
Ebbrnburg, April 2, 15^
CHASM has opened between me and my monastic
life.^ I have been in the prison, and in the prison
have I received at last, in full, my emancipation.
The ties I dreaded impatiently to break have been broken for
me, and I am a monk no longer.
I could not but speak to my brethren in the convent of the
glad tidings which had brought me such joy. It is as impossible
for Christian life not to diffuse itself as that living water should
not flow, or that flames should not rise. Gradually a little band
of Chrisfs freedmen gathered around me. At first I did not
speak to them much of Dr. Luthefs writings. My purpose
was to show them that Dr. Luthef s doctrine was nof his own,
but God's.
But the time came when Dr. Luther's name was on every
lip. The bull of excommunication went forth against him from
the Vatican. His name was branded as that of the vilest of
heretics by every adherent of the Pope. In many churches,
especially those of the Dominicans, the people were summoned
by the great bells to a solemn service of anathema, where the
whole of the priests, gathered at the altar in the darkened build-
ing, pronounced the terrible words of doom, and then, flinging
down their blazing torches extinguished them on the stone pave-
ment, as hope, they said, was extinguished by the anathema for
the soul of the accursed.
At one of these services I was accidentally present. And mine
was not the only heart which glowed with burning indignation
to hear that worthy name linked with tliose of apostates and
Fritz^s Story. Z7S
heretics, and held up to universal execratioa But^ perhaps, in
no heart there did it enkindle such a fire as in mine. Because
I knew the source from which those curses came, how lightly,
how carelessly those firebrands were flung; not fiercely, by the
fanaticism of blinded consciences, but daintily and deliberately,
by cruel, reckless hands, as a matter of diplomacy and policy,
by those who cared themselves neither for God'& curse nor his
blessing. And I knew also die heart which they were meant to
wound; how loyal, how tender, how true; how slowly, and with
what pain Dr. Luther had learned to believe the idols of his
youth a lie; with what a wrench, when the choice at last had to
be made between the word of God and the voice of the Churchy
he had clung to the Bible, and let the hopes, and trust, and
firiendships of earlier days be torn fi-om him; what anguish that
separation still cost him; how willingly, as a humble litde child,
at the sacrifice of anything but truth and human souls, he
would have flung himself again on the bosom of that Church to
which, in his fervent youth, he had offered up all that makes
life dear.
* 77iey curse, but Mess Thou:'
The words came unbidden into my heart, and almost uncon-
sciously from my lips. Around me I heard more than one
^Amen;" but at the same time I became aware that I was
watched by malignant eyes.
After the publication of the exconnxktmicaticni, they publicly
burned the writings of Dr. Luther in the great square. Mainz
was the first city in Germany where this indignity was offered
him.
Mournfully I returned to my convent In the cloisters of
our Order the opinions concerning Luther are much divided.
The writings of St Augustine have kept the truth alive in many
hearts amongst us; and besides this, there is the natural bias to
one of our own order, and the party opposition to the Domini-
cans, Tetzel and ck. Dr. Luther's enemies. Probably there
are few Augustinian convents in which there are not two oppo-
site parties in reference to Dr. Luther.
In speaking of the great truths, of God freely justifying the
sinner because Christ died, (the Judge acquitting because the
2^6 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
Judge himself had suffered for the guilty), I had endeavoured to
trace them, as I have said, beyond all human words to their
divine authority. But now to confess Luther seemed to me to
have become identical with confessing Christ It is the truth
which is assailed in any age which tests our fidelity. It is to
confess we are called, not merely to profess. If I profess, with
the loudest voice and the clearest exposition, every portion of
the truth of God except precisely that little point which the
world and the devil are at that moment attacking, I am not
confessing Christ, however boldly I may be professing Christi-
anity. Where the battle rages the loyalty of the soldier is
proved; and to be steady on all the battle-field besides is mere
flight and disgrace to him if he flinches at that one point
It seems to me also that, practically, the contest in every age
of conflict ranges usually round the person of one faithful, God-
sent man, whom to follow loyally is fidelity to God. In the
days of the first Judaizing assault on the early Church, that
man was St Paul. In the great Arian battle, this man was
Athanasius ^^Athanasius contra mundumy In our days, in
our land, I believe it is Luther ; and to deny Luther would be
for me who learned the truth from his lips, to deny Christ
Luther, I believe, is the man whom God has given to his
Church in Germany in this age. Luther, therefore, I will fol-
low not as a perfect example, but as a God-appointed leader.
Men can never be neutral in great religious contests; and if,
because of the little wrong in the right cause, or the little evil
in the good man, we refuse to take the side of right, we are, by
that very act, silently taking the side of wrong.
When I came back to the convent I found the storm gather-
ing. I was asked if I possessed any of Dr. Luther's writings.
I confessed that I did. It was demanded that they should be
given up. I said they could be taken from me, but I would
not willingly give them up to destruction, because I believed
they contained the truth of God. Thus the matter ended until
we had each retired to our cells for the night, when one of the
older monks came to me and accused me of secretly spreading
Lutheran heresy among the brethren.
I acknowledged I had diligently, but not secretly, done all I
Fritz's Story, 277
could to spread among the brethren the truths contained inDr,
Luther's books, although not in his words, but in St Paul's. A
warm debate ensued, which ended in the monk angrily leaving
the cell, saying that means would be found to prevent the fur-.
ther diffusion of this poison.
The next day I was taken into the prison where John of
Wesel died ; the heavy bolts were drawn upon me, and I was
left in solitude.
As they left me alone, the monk with whom I had the dis-
cussion of the previous night said, " In this chamber, not forty
years since, a heretic such as Martin Luther died."
The words were intended to produce wholesome fear : they
acted as a bracing tonic. The spirit of the conqueror who had
seemed to be defeated there, but now stood with the victorious
palm before the Lamb, seemed near me. The Spirit of the
truth for which he suffered was with me ; and in the solitude of
that prison I learned lessons years might not have taught me
elsewhere.
No one except those who have borne them knows how strong
are the fetters which bind us to a false faith, learned at our
mother's knee, and rivetted on us by the sacrifices of years.
Perhaps I should never have been able to break them. Por
me, as for thousands of others, they were rudely broken by hos-
tile hands. But the blows which broke them were the accolade
which smote me from 'a monk into a knight an4 soldier of my
Lord.
Yes ; there I learned that these vows which have bound me
for so many years are bonds, not to God, but to a lying tyranny.
The only true vows, as Dr. Luther says, are the vows of our
baptism to renounce the world, the flesh, and the devil, as
soldiers of Christ. The only divine Order is the common order
of Christianity. All other orders are disorder ; not confedera-
tions within the Church, but conspiracies against it If, in an
army, the troops chose to abandon the commander's arrange-
ment, and range themselves, by arbitrary rules, in peculiar uni-
forms, around self-elected leaders, they would not be soldiers
^thcy would be mutineers.
God's order is, I think, the State to embrace all men, the
2yS Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
Church to embrace all Christian men ; and the kernel of the
State and the type of the Church is the famfly*
He creates us to be infants, children ^sons, daughteis hus-
band, wife ^fiither, mother. He says, Obey your parents, love
your wife, reverence your husband, love your children. As
children, let the Lord at Nazareth be your model ; as married,
let the Lord, who loved the Church better than life, be jour
type ; as parents, let the heavenly Father be your guide. And
if we, abandoning every holy name of family love he has sanc-
tioned, and every lowly duty he has enjoined, choose to band
ourselves anew into isolated conglomerations of men or women,
connected only by a common name and dress, we are not only
amiable enthusiasts we are rebels against the Divine order of
humanity.
God, indeed, may call some e^ecially to forsake father and
mother, and wife and children, and all things for his dearer
love. But when he calls to such destinies, it is by the plain
voice of Providence, or by the bitter call of persecution; and then
the martyr's or the apostle's solitary path is as much the lowly,
simple path of obedience as the mother's or the child's. The
crown of the martyr is consecrated by the same holy oil which
anoints the head of the bride^ the mother, or the child, the
consecration of love and of ol)edience. There is none other.
All that is not duty is sin ; all that is not obedience is disobe-
dience ; all that is not of lore is of self; and self crowned with
thorns in a cloister is as selfish as self crowned with ivy at a
revel.
Therefore I abandon cowl and cloister for ever. I am no
more Brother Sebastian, of the order of the E^mites of St Au-
gustine. I am Friedrich Cotta, Margaret Cotta's son, Elsfe and
Thekla's brother Fritz. I am no more a monk. I am a Chris-
tian. I am no more a vowed Augustinian. I am a baptized
Christian, dedicated to Christ from the arms of my mother,
united to Him by the faith of my manhood. Henceforth I will
order my life by no routine of ordinances imposed by the will
of a dead man hundreds of years since. But day by day I
will seek to yield myself, body, soul, and spirit, to the living
will of my almighty, loving God, saying to him morning by
Fritz's Story, 279
morning, " Give me this day my daily bread. Appoint to me
this day my daily task." And he will never fail to hear, how-
ever often I may fail to ask.
I had abundance of time for those thoughts in my prison ;
for during the three weeks I lay there I had, with the exception
of the bread and water which were silently laid inside the door
every morning, but two visits. And these were from my friend
the aged monk who had first told me about John of Wesel.
The first time he came (he said) to persuade me to recant
But whatever he intended, he said little about recantation
much more about his own weakness, which hindered him from
confessing the same truth.
The second time he brought me a disguise, and told me he
had provided the naeans for my escape that very night When,
therefore, I heard the echoes of the heavy bolts of the great
doors die away through the long stone corridors, and listened
till the last tramp of feet ceased, and door after door of the
various cells was closed, and every sound was still throughout
X the building, I laid aside my monk's cowl and frock, and put
on the burgher dress provided for me.
To me it was a glad and solemn ceremony, and, alone in my
prison, I prostrated myself on the stone floor, and thanked Him
who, by his redeeming death and the emancipating word of his
free Spirit, had made me a free man, nay, infinitely better, his
frleedman.
The bodily freedom to which I looked forward was to me a
light boon indeed, in comparison with the liberty of heart
already mine. The putting on this common garb of secular
life was to me like a solemn investiture with the freedom of the
city and the empire of God. Henceforth I was not to be a
member of a narrow, separated class, but of the common family ;
no more to freeze alone on a height, but to tread the lowly path
of common duty ; to help my brethren, not as men at a sump-
tuous table throw crumbs to beggars and dogs, but to live
amongst them ^to share my bread of life with them ; no longer
as the forerunner in the wilderness, but, like the Master^ in the
streets^ and highways, and homes of men j assuming no nobler
name than man created in the image of God, bom in the image
28o Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
of Adam j aiming at no loftier title than Christian, redeemed by
the blood of Christ, and created anew, to be conformed to his
glorious image. Yes, as the symbol of a freedman, as the uniform
of a soldier, as the armour of a sworn knight, at once freeman
and servant, was that lowly burgher's dress to me ; and with a
joyful heart, when the aged monk came to me again, I stepped
after him, leaving my monk's frock lying in the comer of the
cell, like the husk of that old lifeless life.
In vain did I endeavour to persuade my liberator to accom-
pany me in my flight. " The world would be a prison to me,
brother," he said with a sad smile. " All I loved in it are dead,
and what could I do there, with the body of an old man and
the helpless inexperience of a child 1 Fear not for me," he
added; '' I also shall, I trust, one day dwell in a home; but not
on earth !"
And so we parted, he returning'.to the convent, and I taking
my way, by river and forest, to this castle of the noble knight
Franz von Sickengen, on a steep height at the angle formed by
the junction of two rivers.
My silent weeks of imprisonment had been weeks of busy life
in the world outside. When I reached this castle of Ebern-
burg, I found the whole of its inhabitants in a ferment about
the summoning of Dr. Luther to Worms. His name, and
my recent imprisonment for his faith, were a sufficient pass-
port to the hospitality of the castle, and I was welcomed most
cordially.
It was a great contrast to the monotonous routine of the con-
vent and the stillness of the prison. All was life and stir;
eager debates as to what it would be best to do for Dr. Luther ;
incessant coming and going of messengers on horse and foot
between Ebemburg and Worms, where the Diet is already sit-
ting, and where the good knight Franz spends much of his time
in attendance on the Emperor.
Ulrich Von Hutten is also here, from time to time, vehement
in his condemnation of the fanaticism of monks and the luke-
warmness of princes ; and Dr. Bucer, a disciple of Dr. Luther's,
set free from the bondage of Rome by his healthful words at
the great conference of the Augustinians at Heidelberg.
Fritzs Story, 281
A^ril 30, 1521.
The events of an age seem to have been crowded into the
last month. A few days after I wrote last, it was decided to
send a deputation to Dr. Luther, who was then rapidly
approaching Worms, entreating him not to venture into the
city, but to turn aside to Ebemburg. The Emperor's confes-
sor, Glapio, had persuaded the knight von Sickingen and
the chaplain Bucer, that all might easily be arranged, if
Dr. Luther only avoided the fatal step of appearing at the
Diet
A deputation of horsemen was therefore sent to intercept the
doctor on his way, and to conduct him, if he would consent, to
Ebemburg, the " refuge and hostelry of righteousness," as it
has been termed.
I accompanied the little band, of which Bucer was to be chief
spokesman. I did not think Dr. Luther would come. Unlike
the rest of the party, I had known him not only when he stepped
on the great stage of the world as the antagonist of falsehood,
but as the simple, straightforward, obscure monk. And I knew
that the step which to others seemed so great, leading him from
safe obscurity into perilous pre-eminence before the eyes of all
Christendom, was to him no great momentary effort, but simply
one little step in the path of obedience and lowly duty which
he had been endeavouring to tread so many years. But I
fear^. I distrusted Glapio, and believed that all this earnest-
ness on the part of the papal party to turn the doctor aside was
not for his sake, but for their own.
J needed not, at least, have distrusted Dr. Luther. Bucer
entreated him with the eloquence of affectionate solicitude ; his
faithful friends and fellow-travellers,. Jonas, Amsdorf, and
Schurff, wavered, but Dr. Luther did not hesitate an instant
He was in the path of obedience. The next step was as un-
questionable and essential as all the rest, although, as he had
once said, "it led through flames which extended from Worms
to Wittemberg, and raged up to heaven." He did not, how-
ever, use any of these forcible illustrations now, natural as they
were to him. He siiftply said,
" I continue my journey. If the Emperor's confessor has
282 Chronicles of the Sckonberg-Cotta Family.
m
anything to say to me, he can say it at Worms. / wiH go to
the place to which I have been summoned^
And he went on, leaving the friendly deputation to return
baffled to Ebemburg.
I did not leave him. As we went on the way, some of Uiose
who had accompanied him told me through what fervent greet-
ings and against what vain entreaties of tearful affection he had
pursued his way thus far; how many had warned him that he
was going to the stake, and had wept that they should see his
face no more ; how through much bodily weakness and suffeiing,
through acclamations' and tears, he had passed on simply and
steadfasdy, blessing little children in the schools he visited, and
telling them to search the Scriptures; comforting the timid and
aged, stirring up the hearts of all to faith and prayer, and by
his courage and trust more than once turning enemies into
friends.
"Are you the man who is to overturn the popedom]" said a
soldier, accosting him rather contemptuously at a halting-place;
"how will you accomplish thati"
"I rely on Almighty Grod," he replied, "whose orders I
have."
And the soldier replied reverently,
" I serve the Emperor Charles; your Master is greater than
mine."
One more assault awaited Dr. Luther before he reached his
destination. It came through friendly lips. When he arrived
near Worms, a messenger came riding rapidly towards us from
his faithful friend Spalatin, the Elector's chaplain, and implored
him on no account to think of entering the city.
The doctor's old fervour of expression returned at such a
temptation meeting him so near the goal
" Go tell your master," he said, "that if there were at Womis
as many devils as there are tiles on the roofs, yet would I
go in.**
And he went in. A hundred cavaliers met him near the
gates, and escorted him within the city. Two thousand people
were eagerly awaiting him, and pressed to see him as he passed
through the streets. Not all friends. Fanatical Spaniards were
Fritsls Story. 283
among thetn, who had torn his books in pieces from the book-
stalls, and crossed themselves ^en they looked at him, as if he
had been the devil; baffled partisans of the Pope: and on the
other hand, tamid Christians who hoped all from his courage;
men who had waited long for tiiis deUverance, had received life
from his words, and had kept his portrait in their homes and
hearts encircled like that of a canonized saint with a gloiy.
And through the crowd he passed, the only man, perhaps, in it
who did not see Dr. Luther through a mist of hatred or of
glory, but felt himself a solitary, feeble, helpless man, leaning
only, yet resting securely, on the arm of Almighty strength.
Those who knew him best perhaps wondered at him most
during those days which followed. Not at his courage that
we had escpected ^but at his calmness and moderation. It
was this which seemed to me most surely the seal of God on
that fervent impetuous nature, -stamping the work and the man
as of God.
We none of us knew how he would have answered before
that august assembly. At his first appeantnce some of us feared
he might have been too vehement. The Elector Frederick
could not have been more moderate and calm. When asked
whether he would retract his books, I think there were few
among us who were not suiprised at the noble self-restraint of
his reply. He asked for time.
"Most gracious Emperor, gracious princes and lords," he
said, "with regard to the first accusation, I acknowlege the
books enumerated to have been from me. I cannot disown
them. As regards the second, seeing that is a question of the
feith and the salvation of souls, and of God's word, the most
precious treasure in heaven or earth, I should act rashly were I
to reply hastily. I might affirm less than the case requires, or
more than truth demands, and thus offend against that word of
Christ, * Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also
deny before my Father who is in heaven.* Wherefore I beseech
your :mperial majesty, with all submission, to allow me time
that I may reply without doing prejudice to the word of
God.*'
He could afford to be thought for the time what many of his
284 Chronicles of the Schonberg^Cotta Family.
enemies tauntingly declared him, a coward, brave in the cell,
but appalled when he came to face the world.
During the rest of that day he was full of joy ; "like a child,"
said some, "who knows not what is before him ;" "like a veteran,"
said others, "who has prepared everything for the battle;" like
both, I thought, since the strength of the veteran in the battles
of God is the strength of the child following his Father's eye,
and trusting on his Father's arm.
A conflict awaited him afterwards in the course of the night,
which one of us witnessed, and which made him who witnessed
it feel no wonder that the imperial presence had no terrors for
Luther on the morrow.
Alone that night our leader fought the fight to which all
other combats were but as a holiday tournament. Prostrate on
the ground, with sobs and bitter tears, he prayed,
" Almighty, everlasting God, how terrible this world is ! How
it would open its jaws to devour me, and how weak is my trust
in thee! The flesh is weak, and the devil is strong! O thou
my God, help me against all the wisdom of this world. Do
thou the work. It is for thee alone to do it; for the work is
thine, not mine. I have nothing to bring me here. I have no
controversy to maintain, not I, with the great ones of the earth.
I too would that my days should glide sdong, happy and calm.
But the cause is thine. It is righteous, it is eternal. O Lord,
help me ; thou that art faithful, thou that art unchangeable. It
is not in any man I trust That were vain indeed. All that
is in man gives way; all that comes from man faileth. O God,
my God, dost thou not hear mel Art thou dead? No; thou
canst not die ! Thou art but hiding thyself. Thou hast chosen
me for this work. I know it. Oh, then, arise and work. Be
thou on my side, for the sake of thy beloved Son Jesus Christ,
who is my defence, my shield, and my fortress.
"O Lord, my God, where art thou? Come, come; I am
ready ^ready to forsake life for thy truth, patient as a lamb.
For it is a righteous cause, and it is thine own. I will not
depart from thee, now nor through eternity. And although the
world should be full of demons; although my body, which,
nevertheless, is tlie work of thine hands, should be doomed to
Frit^is Story. 285
bite the dust, to be stretched upon the rack, cut into pieces,
consumed to ashes, the soul is thine. Yes; for this I have the
assurance of thy word. My soul is thine. It will abide near
thee throughout the endless ages. Amen. O God, help thou
me ! Amen.''
Ah, how little those who follow know the agony it costs to
take the first step, to venture on the perilous ground no human
soul around has tried !
Insignificant indeed the terrors of the empire to one who had
seen the terrors of the Almighty. Petty indeed are the assaults
of flesh and blood to him who has withstood principalities and
powers, and the hosts of the prince of darkness.
At four o'clock the Marshal of the Empire came to lead him
to his trial. But his real hour of trial was over, and calm and
joyful Dr. Luther passed through the crowded streets to the
imperial presence.
As he drew near the door, the veteran General Freundsberg,
touching his shoulder, said
"Little monk, you have before you an encounter such as
neither I nor any other captains have seen the like of even in
our bloodiest campaigns. But if your cause be just, and if
you know it to be so, go forward in the name of God, and fear
nothing. God will not forsake you."
Friendly heart! he knew not that our Martin Luther was
coming from his battle-field, and was simply going as a con-
queror to declare before men the victory he had won from
mightier foes.
And so at last he stood, the monk, the peasant's son, before
all the princes of the empire, the kingliest heart among them
all, crowned with a majesty which was incorruptible, because in-
visible to worldly eyes; one against thousands who were bent
on his destruction; one,in front of thousands who leant on his
fidelity; erect because he rested on that unseen arm above.
The words he spoke that day are ringing through all Ger-
many. The closing sentence will never be forgotten
^^ Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise, God help me, Amen,^
To him these deeds of heroism are acts of simple obedience ;
every step inevitable, because every step is duty. In this path
286 Chronicles of the Schdnierg^Cotta Family,
he leans on God's help absolutely and only. And all &itfaful
hearts throughout the land respond to his Amen.
On the other hand, many of the polished courtiers and subtle
Roman diplomatists saw no eloquence in his word^ words
which stirred every true heart to its depths. " That man," said
they, "will never convince us.^ How ^ould he? His argu-
ments were not in their language, nor addressed to them, but
to true and honest hearts; and to such they spoke.
To men with whom eloquence means elaborate fandes^ de-
corating corruption or veiling emptiness, what coidd St. Paul
seem but a "babblcrl"
All men of earnest purpose acknowledged their force;
enemies, by indignant clamour that he should be silenced;
friends, by wondering gratitude to God who had stood by him.
It was nearly dark when the Diet broke up. As Dr. Luther
came out, escorted by the imperial officers, a panic spread
through the crowd collected in tiie street, and from eveiy lip to
lip was heard the cry,
" They are taking him to prison.'*
** They are leading me to my hotel,** said the calm vcHce of
him whom this day has made the great man of Germany. And
the tumult subsided.
Dr. Luther has disappeared! Not one that I have seen
knows at this moment where they have taken him, whether he
is in the hands of friend or foe, whether even he is still on earth!
We ought to have heard of his arrival at Wittembeig many
days since. But no inquiries can trace him beyond the village
of Mora in the Thuringian Forest There he went from Eise-
nach on his way back to Wittemberg, to visit his aged grand-
mother and some of his father's relations, peasant burners who
live on the clearings of the forest In his grandmother^s lowly
home he passed the night, and took leave of her the next morn-
ing ; and no one has heard of him since.
We are not without hope that he is in the hands of friends;
yet fears will mingle with these hopes. His enemies are so
many and so bitter; and no means would seem, ta many of
them, unworthy, to rid the world of siKh a heretic
^rit^s Stofy, 287
While be yet remained at Wonns the Romans strenuously
insisted that his obstinacy had made the safe-conduct invalid;
some even of the German princes urged that he should be
seized; nd it was only by the urgent remonstrances of others,
-who protested that they would never suffer such a Uot on Ger-
man honour, that he was saved
At the same time the most insidious efforts were made to
persuade him to retract, or to resign his safe-conduct in order
to show his willingness to abide by the issue of a fair discussion.
This last effort, appealing to Dr. Luther's confidence in the
truth for which he was ready to die, had all but prevailed with
him. But a knight who was present when it was made, seeing
through the treachery, fiercely ejected the priest who proposed
it from the house.
Yet through all assaults, insidious or open. Dr. Luther re-
mained calm and unmoved, moved by no threats, ready to listen
to any fair proposition.
Among all the polished courtiers and proud princes and pre-
lates, he seemed to me to stand like an ambassador from an
imperial court among the petty dignitaries of some petty pro-
vince. His manners had the dignity of one who has been
accustomed to a higher presence than any around bim,^givfaig-
to every one the honour due to him, indifferent to all perso
slights, but inflexible on every point that concerned the honour
of his sovereign.
Those of us who had known him in earlier days saw in him
all the simplicity, the deep earnestness, the childlike delight in
simple pleasures we had known in him of old. It was our
old friend Martin Luther, but it seemed as if our Luther had
come back to us from a residence in heaven, such a peace and
majesty dwelt in all he said. One incident especially struck
me. When the glass he was about to drink of at the feast given
by the Archbishop oi Treves, one of the papal party, shivered
in his hand as he signed the cross over it, and his friends
exclaimed " poison !" he (so ready usually to see spiritual agency
in all things) quietly observed that " the glass had doubtless
broken on account of its having been plunged too soon into cold
water when it wa* washed.*'
\
288 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
His courage was no effort of a strong nature. He simply
trusted in God, and really was afraid of nothing.
' And now he is gone.
Whether among friends or foes, in a hospitable refuge such
as this, or in a hopeless secret dungeon, to us for the time at
least he is dead. No word of sympathy or counsel passes be-
tween us. The voice which all Germany hushed its breath to
hear is silenced.
Under the excommunication of the Pope, under the ban of
the empire, branded as a heretic, sentenced as a traitor, reviled
by the Emperor's own edict as " a fool, a blasphemer, a devil
clothed in a monk's cowl," it is made treason to give him food
or shelter, and a virtue to deliver him to death. And to all
this, if he is living, he can utter no word of reply.
Meantime, on the other hand, every word of his is treasured
up and clothed with the sacred pathos of the dying words of a
father. The noble letter which he wrote to the nobles describ-
ing his appearance before the Diet is treasured in every home.
Yet some among us derive not a little hope from the last
letter he wrote, which was to Lucas Cranach, from Frankfort
In it he says,
" The Jews may sing once more their * lo ! lo ! * but to us
also the Easter-day will come, and then will we sing Alleluiah.
A little while we must be silent and suffer. *A little while,'
said Christ, ' and ye shall not see me ; and again a little while
and ye shall see me.' I hope it may be so now. But the will
of God, the best in all things, be done in this as in heaven and
earth. Amen."
Many of us think this is a dim hint to those who love him
that he knew what was before him, and that after a brief con-
cealment for safety, " till this tyranny be overpast," he will be
amongst us once more.
I, at least, think so, and pray that to him this time of silence
may be a time of close intercourse with God, from which he
may come forth refreshed and strengthened to guide and help
us all.
And meantime, a work, not without peril, but full of sacred
joy, opens before me. I have been supplied by the friends of
Fritz*s Story. 289
Dr. Luther's doctrine with copies of his books and pamphlets,
both in Latin and Grerman, which I am to sell as a hawker
through the length and breadth of Germany, and in any other
lands I can penetrate.
I am to start to-morrow, and to me my pack and strskp are
burdens more glorious than the armbut of a prince of the
empire; my humble pedlar's coat and staff are vestments
more sacred than the robes of a cardinal or the weeds of a
pilgrim.
For am I not a pilgrim to the city which hath foundations %
Is not my yoke the yoke of Christ 1 and am I not distributing,
among thirsty and enslaved men, the water of life and the truth
which sets the heart free %
Black Forest, May 152X.
The first week of my wandering life is over. To-day my way
lay through the solitary paths of the Black Forest, which, eleven
years ago, I trod with Dr. Martin Luther, on our pilgrimage to
Rome. Both of us then wore the monk's frock and cowl. Both
were devoted subjects of the Pope, and would have deprecated,
as the lowest depth of degradation, his anathema. Yet at that
very time Martin Luther bore in his heart the living germ of all
that is now agitating men's hearts from Pomerania to Spain.
He was already a freedman of Christ, and he knew it The
Holy Scriptures were already to hira the one living fountain of
truth. Believing simply on Him who died, the just for the
unjust, he had received the free pardon of his sins. Prayer was
to him the confiding petition of a forgiven child received to the
heart of the Father, and walking humbly by his side. Christ
he knew already as the Confessor and Priest; the Holy Spirit
as the personal teacher through His own Word.
The fetters of the old ceremonial were indeed still around
him, but only as the brown casings still swathe many of the
swelling buds of the young leaves; which others, this May morn-
ing, cracked and burst as I passed along in the silence through
the green forest paths. The moment of liberation, to the
passer-by always seems a great, sudden effort ; but those who
have watched the slow celling of the imprisoned bud, know
that the last expansion Of life whi^h bursts the scaly cereraente
19
290 Chronklis of the Sckonberg-Cotta Family,
is but one moment of the imperceptible but incessant growth,
of which even the apparent death of winter was a stage.
But it is good to live in the spring-time; and as I went on,
my heart sang with the birds and the leaf-buds, " For me also
the cerements of winter are burst, ^for me and for all the land!"
And as I walked, I sang aloud the old Easter hymn which
Eva used to love :
Pone luctum, Magdalena,
t Serena lacrymas ;
Non est jam sermonis coena,
Non cur fletiun exprimas ;
Causae mille simt Isetandi,
Causae mille exultandi,
Alleluia resonet !
Suma risum, Magdalena,
Frons nitescat lucida ;
Denigravit omnis poena,
Lux coruscat fulgida ;
Christus nondum liberavit,
t de morte triumphavit :
Alleluia resonet I
Gaude, plaude Magdalena,
Tumbi Christus exiit;
Tristis est peracta scena,
Victor mortis rediit ;
Quern deflebis morientem,
Nunc arride resurgentem :
Alleluia resonet!
ToUe vultum, Magdalena,
Redivivum obstupe :
Vide frons quam sit amoena,
Quinque plagas adspice ;
Fulgent sicut margaritae,
Omamenta novae vitae :
Alleluia resonet !
Vive, vive, Magdalena!
Tua lux reversa est;
Guadiis turgescit vena,
Mortis vis obstersa est;
Maesti procul stmt dolores,
L.aeti redeant amores :
Alleluia resonet!
Yes, even in the old dark times, heart after heart, in quiet
homes and secret convent cells, has doubtless learned this hidden
joy. But now the world seems learning it The winter has its
robins, with their solitary warblings; but now the spring is here, the
songs come in choruses, and thank God I am awake to listen!
But the voice which awoke this music first in my heart,
among these very forests and since then, through the grace of
God, in countless hearts throughout this and all lands ^what
silence hushes it now? The silence of the grave, or only of
some friendly refuge ? In either case, doubtless, it is not silent
to God.
I had scarcely finished my hymn, when the trees became
more scattered and smaller, as if they had been cleared not long
since; and I found myself on the edge of a valley, on the
slopes of which nestled a small village, with its spire and belfry
rising among the wooden cottages, and flocks of sheep and
Fritz* s Story. 291
goats grazing in the pastures beside the little stream which
watered it
I Hfled up my heart to God, that some hearts in that peace-
ful place might welcome the message of eternal peace through
the books I carried.
. As I entered the village, the priest came out of the parsonage
^an aged man, with a gentle, kindly countenance and courte-
ously saluted me.
I offered to show him my wares.
*' It is not likely there will be anything there for me,'* he said,
smiling. " My days are over for ballads and stories, such as I
suppose your merchandise consists of."
But when he saw the name of Luther on the title-page of a
volume which I showed him, his face changed, and he said in
a grave voice, " Do you know what you carry 1"
" I trust I do," I replied. " I carry most of these books in
my heart as well as on my shoulders."
"But do you know the danger 1" the old man continued.
" We have heard that Dr. Luther has been excommunicated by
the Pope, and laid under the ban of the empire; and only last
week, a travelling merchant,. such as yourself, told us that his
body had been seen, pierced through with a hundred wounds."
" That was not true three days since," I said. " At least, his
best friends at Worms knew nothing of it"
"Thank God 1" he said; "for in this village we owe that
good man much. And if," he added timidly, " he has indeed
fallen into heresy, it would be well he had time to repent"
In that village I sold many of my books, and left others with
the good priest, who entertained me most hospitably, and sent
me on my way with a tearful farewell, compounded of blessings,
warnings, and prayers.
Paris, July 1521.
I have crossed the French frontier, and have been staying
some da)rs in this great, gay, learned city.
In Germany, my books prociured me more of welcome than
of opposition. In some cases, even where the local authorities
deemed it their duty publicly to protest against them, they them-
selves secretly assisted in their distribution. In others, the
29^ Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
eagerness to purchase, and to glean any fragment of information
about Luther, drew a crowd around me, who, after satisfying
themselves that I had no news to give them of his present state,
lingered as long as I would speak, to listen to my narrative of
his appearance before the Emperor at Worms, while murmurs
of enthusiastic approval, and often sobs and tears, testified the
sympathy of the people with him. In the towns, many more
copies of his " Letter to the German Nobles " were demanded
than I could supply.
But what touched me most was to see the love and almost
idolatrous reverence which had gathered around his name in
remote districts, among the oppressed and toiling peasantry.
I remember especially, in one village, a fine-looking old
peasant farmer taking me to an inner room where hung a
portrait of Luther, encircled with a glory, with a curtain be-
fore it.
" See !" he said. " The lord of that castle " and he pointed
to a fortress on an opposite height) '^ has wrought me and mine
many a wrong. Two of my sons have perished in his selfish
feuds, and his huntsmen lay waste my fields as they choose in
the chase; yet, if I shoot a deer, I may be thrown into the castle
dungeon, as mine have been before. But their reign is nearly
over now. I saw that man at Worms. I heard him speak,
bold as a lion, for the truth, before emperor, princes, and pre-
lates. God has sent us the deliverer ; and the reign of righte-
ousness will come at last, when every man shall have his due."
"Friend," I said, with an aching heart, "the Deliverer came
fifteen hundred years ago, but the reign of justice has not come
to the world yet The Deliverer was crucified, and his followers
since then have suffered, not reigned."
" God is patient," he said, " and we have been patient long,
God knows ; but I trust the time is come at last."
" But the redemption Dr. Luther proclaims," I said, gently,
" is liberty from a worse bondage than that of the nobles, and
it is a liberty no tyrant, no dungeon, can deprive us of-^the
liberty of the sons of God ;" and he listened earnestly while I
spoke to him of justification, and of the suffering, redeeming
Lord. But at the end he said
Fritx's Story. 293
** Yes, that is good news. But I trust Dr. Luther will avenge
many a wrong among us yet They say he was a peasant's son
like me."
If I were Dr. Luther, and knew that the wistful eyes of the
oppressed and sorrowful throughout the land were turned to me,
I should be tempted to say
"Lord, let me die before these oppressed and burdened
hearts leara how little I can help them !''
For verily there is much evil done under the sun. Yet
as truly there is healing for every disease, remedy for every
wrong, and rest from every burden, in the tidings Dr. Luther
brings. But remedy of a different kind, I fear, from what too
many fondly expect !
It is strange, also, to see how, in these few weeks, the wildest
tales have sprung up and spread in all directicAis about Dr.
Luther's disappearance. Some say he has been secretly mur-
dered, and that his wounded corpse has been seen; others, that
he was borne away bleeding through the forest to some dread-
ful doom ; while others boldly assert that he will re-appear at
the head of a band of liberators, who will go through the length
and breadth of the land, redressing every wrong, and punishing
every wrong-doer.
Truly, if a few weeks can throw such a haze around facts,
what would a century without a written record have done for
Christianity; or what would that record itself have been without
inspiration 1
The country was in some parts very disturbed. In Alsace I
came on a secret meeting of the peasants, who have bound
themselves with the most terrible oaths to wage war to the death
against the nobles.
More than once I was stopped by a troop of horsemen near
a castle, and my wares searched, to see if they belonged to the
merchants of some city with whom the knight of the castle was
at feud ; and on one of these occasions it might have fared ill
with me if a troop of Landsknechts in the service of the empire
had not appeared in time to rescue me and my companions.
Yet everywhere the name of Luther was of equal interest
The peasants believed he would rescue them from the tyranny
294 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
of the nobles ; and many of the knights spoke of him as the
assertor of German liberties against a foreign yoke. More than
one poor parish priest welcomed him as the deliverer from the
avarice of the great abbeys or the prelates. Thus, in farm-house
and hut, in castle and parsonage, I and my books found many
a cordial welcome. And all I could do was to sell the books,
and tell all who would listen, that the yoke Luther's words were
powerful to break was the yoke of the devil, the prince of all
oppressors, and that the freedom he came to republish was free-
dom from the tyranny of sin and sel
My true welcome, however, the one which rejoiced my heart,
was when any said, as many did, on sick-beds, in lowly and
noble homes, and in monasteries
" Thank God, these words are in our hearts already. They
have taught us the way to God; ihtyhave brought us peace and
freedom."
Or when others said
'' I must have that book. This one and that one that I know
is another man since he read Dr. Luther's words."
But if I was scarcely prepared for the interest felt in Dr.
Luther in our own land, true German that he is, still less did I
expect that his fame would have reached to Paris, and even
further.
The night before I reached this city I was weary with a long
day's walk in the dust and heat, and had fallen asleep on a
bench in the garden outside a village inn, under the shade of a
trellised vine, leaving my pack partly open beside me. When
I awoke, a grave and dignified-looking man, who, from the rich-
ness of his dress and arms, seemed to be a nobleman, and, from
the cut of his slashed doublet and mantle, a Spaniard, sat be-
side me, deeply engaged in reading one of my books. I did
not stir at first, but watched him in silence. The book he held
was a copy of Luther's Commentary on the Galatians, in Latin.
In a few minutes I moved, and respectfiiUy saluted him.
'' Is this book for sale )" he asked.
I said it was, and named the price.
He immediately laid down twice the sum, saying, '' Give a
copy to some one who cannot buy."
It
Fritz's Story. 295
I ventured to ask if he had seen it before.
" I have," he said. " Several copies were sent by a Swiss
printer, Frobenius, to Castile. And I saw it before at Venice.
It is prohibited in both Castile and Venice now. But I have
always wished to possess a copy that I might judge for myself
Do you know Dr. Luther 1" he asked, as he moved away.
" I have known and reverenced him for many years," I said.
" They say his life is blameless, do they not 1" he asked.
" Even his bitterest enemies confess it to be so," I re-
plied.
He spoke like a brave man before the Diet," he resumed ;
gravely and quietly, as true men speak who are prepared to
abide by their words. A noble of Castile could not have spoken
with more dignity than that peasant's son. The Italian priests
thought otherwise; but the oratory which melts girls into tears
from pulpits is not the eloquence for the councils of men. That
monk had learned his oratory in a higher school If you ever
see Dr. Luther again," he added, " tell him that some Spaniards,
even in the Emperof s court, wished him well."
And here in Paris I find a little band of devout and learned
men, Lefevre, Farel, and BriQonnet, bishop of Meaux, actively
employed in translating and circulating the writings of Luther
and Melancthon. The truth in them, they say, they had learned
before from the book of God itself, namely, justification through
faith in a crucified Saviour leading to a hfe devoted to him.
But jealous as the French are of admitting the superiority of
anything foreign, and contemptuously as they look on us un-
polished Germans, the French priests welcome Luther as a
teacher and a brother, and are as eager to hear all particulars
of his life as his countrymen in every town and quiet village
throughout Germany.
They tell me also that the king's own sister, the beautiful and
learned Duchess Margaret of Valois, reads Dr. Luther's writings,
and values them greatly.
Indeed, I sometimes think if he had carried out the intention
he formed some years since, of leaving Wittemberg for Paris, he
would have found a noble sphere of action here. The people
are so frank in speech, so quick in feeling and perception; and
296 Chronicles of the Schonherg-Cotta Family,
their bright keen wit cuts so much more quickly to the heart of
a fallacy than our sober, plodding, Northern intellect
BasbXm
Before I left Ebemburg, the knight Ulrich von Hutten had
taken a warm interest in my expedition ; had especially recom
mended me to seek out Erasmus, if ever I reached Switzerland ;
and had himself placed some copies of Erasmus' sermons,
" Praise of Folly," among my books,
Personally I feel a strong attachment to that brave knight
I can never forget the generous letter he wrote to Luther bcfHt)
his appearance at the Diet : " The Lord hear thee in the day of
trouble: the name of the God offacoh defend thee* O my beloved
Luther, my revered father, fear not; be strong. Fight valiantly
for Christ As for me, I also will fight bravely. Would to God
I might see how they knit their brows May Christ pre-
serve you."
Yes, to see the baffled enemies knit their brows as they did
then, would have been a triumph to the impetuous soldier, but
at the time he was prohibited from approaching the Court
Luther's courageous and noble defence filled him with en-
thusiastic admiration. He declared the doctor to be a greater
soldier than any of the knights. When we heard of Dr. Luther's
disappearance he would have collected a band of daring spirits
like himself, and scoured the Country in search of him. Hutten's
objects were high and unselfish. He had no mean and petty
ambitions. With sword and pen he had contended against
oppression and hypocrisy. To him the Roman Court was de-
testable, chiefly as a foreign yoke ; the corrupt priesthood, as a
domestic usurpation. He had a high ideal of knighthood, and
believed that his order, enlightened by learning, and inspired by
a free and lofty faith, might emancipate Germany and Christen*
dom. Personal danger he despised, and personal aims.
Yet with all his fearlessness and high aspirations, I scarcely
think he hoped himself to be the hero of his ideal chivalry.
The self-control of the pure true knight was too little his. In
his visions of a Christendom fi"om which falsehood and avarice
were to be banished, and where authority was to reside in an
order of ideal knights, Franz von Sickingen, the brave good
Fritz's Story. 297
lord of Ebembuig, with his devout wife Hedwiga, was to raise
the standard, around which Ulrich and all the true men in th'
lane were to rally* Luther, Erasmus, and Sickingen, he thought
^the types of the three orders, learning, knighthood, and
priesthood, might regenerate the world.
Erasmus had began the work with unveiling the light in the
sanctuaries of learning. Luther had carried it on by diffusing
the light $mpng the people. The knights must complete it by
forcibly scattering the powers of darknes*. Conflict is Erasmus'
detestation. It is Luther's necessity, It is Hutten's d^*
Hght
I did not| however, expect much sympathy in my work from
Erasmus. It seemed to me that Hutten; admiring his cl^ar^
luminous genius, attributed to him the fire of his own warm and
courageous heart However, I intended to seek him out at
Basel.
Circumstances saved me the trouble.
As I was entering the city, with my pack nearly empty, hop-
ing to replenish it from the presses of Frobenius, an elderly
man, with a stoop in his shoulders, giving him the air of a
student, ambled slowly past me, clad in a doctor's gown and
hat, edged with a broad border of fur. The keen small dark
eyes surveyed me and my pack for a minute, and then reining
in his horse he joined me, and said, in a soft voice and courtly
accent, "We are of the same profession, friend. We manufac-
ture, and you sell. What have you in your packl"
I took out three of my remaining volumes. One was Luther's
"Commentary on the Galatiansj" the others, his "Treatise on
the Lord's Prayer," and his "Letter to the German Nobles,"
The rider's brow darkened slightly, and he eyed me su&
picipusly.
" Men who supply ammunition to the people in times of in
surreqtion seldom do it at their own risk," he said. " Young
man, you are on a perilous mission, and would do well tp count
the cost"
" I have counted the cost, sir," I said, "and I willingly brave
the peril,"
" Well, well," he replied, "some are bom for battle-fields, and
298 Chronicles of the Sckonberg-Cotta Family,
some for martyrdom; others for neither. Let each keep to his
calling,
' Nequiaiiinam paoem jiistissimo bello antifeio/
But 'those who let in the sea on the marshes little know where
it will spread.*"
This illustration from the Dutch dykes awakened my sus-
picions as to who the rider was, and looking at the thin, sensi-
tive, yet satirical lips, the delicate, sharply-cut features, the
pallid complexion, and the dark keen eyes I had seen represented
in so many portraits, I could not doubt with whom I was
speaking. But I did not betray my discovery.
" Dr. Luther has written some good things, nevertheless," he
said. "If he had kept to such devotional works as this,"
returning to me "The Lord's Prayer," "he might have served
his generation quietly and well; but to expose such mysteries
as are treated of here to the vulgar gaze, it is madness!" and he
hastily closed.the "Galatians." Then glancing at the " Letter to
the Nobles," he ahnost threw it into my hand, saying petulantly,
" That pamphlet is an insurrection in itself.
"What other books have youl" he asked after a pause.
I drew out my last copy of the "Encomium of Folly."
" Have you sold many of these 1" he asked coolly.
"All but this copy," I replied.
"And what did peoplfe say of iti"
" That depended on the purchasers," I replied. " Some say
the author is the wisest and wittiest man of the age, and if all
knew where to stop as he does, the world would slowly grow
into Paradise, instead of being turned upside down as it is now.
Others, on the contrary, say that the writer is a coward, who
has no courage to confess the truth he knows. And others,
again, declare the book is worse than any of Luther's, and that
Erasmus is the source of all the mischief in the world, since if
he had not broken the lock, Luther would never have entered
the door."
"And j'^w think?" he asked.
"I am but a poor pedlar, sir," I said; "but I think there is
a long way between Pilate's delivering up the glorious King he
knew was innocent ^perhaps began to see might be divine, and
Fritz^s Story, 299
St Peter's denying the Master he loved. And the Lord who
foigave Peter knows which is which; which the timid disciple,
and which the cowardly friend of His foes. But the eye of
man, it seems to me, may find it impossible to distinguish. I
would rather be Luther at the Diet of Worms, and under
anathema and ban, than either."
" Bold words 1" he said, "to prefer an excommunicated heretic
to the prince of the apostles 1"
But a shade passed over his, face, and coiuteously bidding
me farewell, he rode on.
The conversation seemed to have thrown a shadow and chill
over my heart
After a time, however, the rider slackened his pace again, and
beckoned to me to rejoin him.
" Have you friends in Basel 1" he asked kindly.
"None," I replied; "but I have letters to the printer Fro-
benius, and I was recommended to seek out Erasmus,"
"Who recommended you to do that?" he asked.
" The good knight Uliich von Hutten," I replied.
"The prince of all turbulent spirits 1" he murmured gravely.
" Little indeed is there in common between Erasmus of Rotter-
dam and that firebrand."
" Ritter Ulrich has the greatest admiration for the genius of
Erasmus," I said, "and thinks that his learning, ^^ith the swords
of a few good knights, and the preaching of Luther, might set
Christendom right"
" Ulrich von Hutten should set his own life right first," was
the reply. " But let us leave discoursing of Christendom and
these great projects, which are altogether beyond our sphere.
Let the knights set chivalry right, and the cardinals the papacy,
and the emperor the empire. Let the hawker attend to his
pack, and Erasmus to his studies. Perhaps hereafter it will be
found that his satires on the follies of the monasteries, and above
all his earlier translation of the New Testament, had their share
in the good work. His motto is, * Kindle the light and the
darkness will disperse of itself.'"
" If Erasmus," I said, "would only consent to share in the
result he has indeed contributed so nobly to bring about!"
300 Chronicles of the ScHonherg^Cotta Family.
** Share in whati" he replied quickly; "in the excommunica-
tion of Luther? or in the wild projects of Hutteni Have it
supposed that he approves of the coarse and violent invectives
of the Saxon monk, or the daring schemes of the adventurous
knight? No; St. Paul wrote courteously, and never returned
railing for railing. Erasmus should wait till he find a reformer
like the apostle ere he join the Reformation. But, friend," he
added, "I do not deny that Luther is a good man, and means
well. If you like to abandon your perilous pack, and take to
study, you may come to my house, and I will help you as far
as I can with money and counsel For I know what it is to be
poor, and I think you ought to be better than a hawker. And,"
he added, bringing his horse to a stand, "if you hear Erasmus
maligned again as a coward or a traitor, you may say that God
has more room in his kingdom than any men have in their
schools; and that it is not always so easy for men who see
things on many sides to embrace one. Believe also that the
loneliness of those who see too much or dare too little to be
partisans, often has anguish bitterer than the scaffolds of martyrs.
But," he concluded in a low voice, as he left me, "be careful
never again to link the names of Erasmus and Hutten. I
assure you nothing can be more unlike. And Ulrich von
Hutten is a most rash and dangerous man.
" I will be careful never to forget Erasmus," I said, bowing
low, as I took the hand h^ offered. And the doctor rode
on.
Yes, the sorrows of the undecided are doubtless bitterer than
those of the courageous; bitterer as poison is bitterer than
medicine, as an enemy's wound is bitterer than a physician's.
Yet it is true that the clearer the insight into difficulty and
danger, the greater need be the courage to meet them. The
path of the rude simple man who sees nothing but right on one
side, and nothing but wrong on Ae other, is necessarily plainer
than his who, seeing much evil in the good cause, and some
truth at the foundation of all error, chooses to suffer for the
right, mixed as it is, and to suffer side by side with men whose
manners distress him, just because he believes the cause is on
the whole that of truth and God Luther's school may not in
FritB^s Story.
3or
deed have room for Erasmus^ nor Erasmus's school for Luther;
but God may have compassion and room for both.
At Basel I replenished my pack from the stores of Frobenius,
and received veiy inspiriting tidings from him of the spread of
the truth of the gospel (especially by means of the writings of
Luther) into Italy and Spain* I did not apply further to
Erasmus.
NsAft Zurich, yufy.
My heart is full of resurrection hymns* Everywhere in the
-world it seems aster-tide This morning, as I left 2^rich, and^
climbing one of the heights on this side, looked down on the
lake, rippled with silver, through the ranges of green and forest-
covered hills, to the glorious barrier of &r-off mountains, purple,
and golden, and snow-crowned^ which encircles Switzerland,
and thought of the many hearts which, during these years, have
been awakened here to the liberty of the sons of God, the old
chant of Easter and Spring burst from my lips:
Plaudite coeli,
Rideat aether
Sommus M imui
Gaudeat orbis !
Transivit atrae
Turba proeeUop !
Subuit almse
Gloria palmsD I
SiHfgite venii,
Sargite flores,
Genmna pictfs
Sw^tacampisr
Teneris mistao
Violis rosae ;
Candida sparais
Liliacalthis!
Ovrite plenis ,
Cvmina venis,
Fundite laetum
Barbita metrum ;
Namque revixit
Sicuti dudt
Pius illaesus
Funere Jesus.
Plaudite montes,
r.udite fontes,
Kesonent valley
RepetantcoUes!
lo revixit,
Sicuti dixit
Pius illsBsus
Funere Jesus.*
And when I ceased, die mountam stream which dashed over
the rocks beside me, the whispering grasses, the trembling wild-
Smile praises, O sky !
Soft breathe thei, O air,
Below and on high,
And everywhere?
The black troop of strnins
Has jrielded to calm ;
Tufted blossoms are peeping,
And early palm.
Awake thee, O spring !
Ye flowers, come forth.
With thousand hues tinting
The soft green earth !
Ye violets tender.
And sweet roses bri^t,
Gay Lent-ltUes blended
With pure lilies whits.
302 Chronicles of the Schonberg^Cotta Family.
flowers, the rustling forests, the lake with its ripples, the green
hills and solemn snow-mountains beyond ^all seemed to take
up the chorus.
There is a wonderful, invigorating influence about Ulrich
Zwingle, with whom I have spent many days lately. It seems
as if the fresh air of the mountains among which he passed his
youth were always around him. In his presence it is impossible
to despond. While Luther remains immovably holding eveiy
step of ground he has taken, Zwingle presses on, and surprises
the enemy asleep in his strongholds. Luther carries on the
war like the Landsknechts, our own firm and impenetrable
infantry; Zwingle, like his own impetuous mountaineers, sweeps
down from the heights upon the foe.
In Switzerland I and my books have met with more sudden
and violent varieties of reception than anywhere else; the people
are so free and unrestrained. In some villages, the chief men,
or the priest himself, summoned all the inhabitants by the
church bell, to hear all I had to tell about Dr. Luther and his
work, and to buy his books; my stay was one constant^-?; and
the warm-hearted peasants accompanied me miles on my way,
discoursing of Zwingle and Luther, the broken yoke of Rome,
and the glorious days of freedom that were coming. The names
of Luther and Zwingle were on every lip, like those of Tell and
Winkelried and the heroes of the old struggle of Swiss liberation.
In other villages, on the contrary, the peasants gathered
angrily around me, reviled me as a spy and an intruding for-
eigner, and drove me with stones and rough jests from among
them, threatening that I should not escape so easily another
time.
In some places they have advanced much further than among
us in Germany. The images have been removed from the
churches, and the service is read in the language of the people.
Sweep tides of rich music
The new world along,
And pour in full measure.
Sweet lyres, your song !
Sing, sing, for He liveth !
He lives, as He said ;
The Lord has arisen,
Unharmed, from the dead !
Clap, clap your hands, motmtains!
Ye valleys, resound !
Leap, leap for joy, fountains !
Ye hills, catch the sound !
All triumph ; He liveth !
He lives, as He said ;
The Lord has arisen,
Unharmed, from the dead !
Fritz* s Story. 303
But the great joy is to see that the light has not been spread
only from torch to torch, as human illumination spread, but has
burst at once on Germany, France, and Switzerland, as heavenly
light dawns from above. It is this which makes it not an illu-
mination merely, but morning and spring ! Lefevre in France
and Zwingle in Switzerland both passed through their period of
storms and darkness, and both, awakened by Uie heavenly light
to the new world, found that it was no solitude ^that others also
were awake, and that the day's work had begun, as it should,
with matin songs.
Now I am tending northwards once more. I intend to renew
my stores at my father's press at Wittemberg. My heart yearns
also for news of all dear to me there. Perhaps, too, I may yet
see Dr. Luther, and find scope for preaching the evangelical
doctrine among my own people.
For better reports have come to us from Germany, and we
believe Dr. Luther is in friendly keeping, though where, is still
a mystery.
The Prison of a Dominican Convent,
Franconia, August.
All is changed for me. Once more prison walls are aroimd
me, and through prison bars I look out on the world I may not
re-enter. I counted this among the costs when I resolved to
give myself to spreading far and wide the glad tidings of redemp-
tion. It was worth the cost ; it is worth whatever man can
inflict for I trust that those days have not been spent in
vain.
Yesterday evening, as the day was sinking, I found my way
once more to the parsonage of Priest Ruprecht in the Franconian
village. The door was open, but I heard no voices. There
was a neglected look about the little garden. The vine was
hanging untwined around the porch. The little dwelling, which
had been so neat, had a dreary, neglected air. Dust lay thick
on the chairs, and the remains of the last meal were left on the
table. And yet it was evidently not unoccupied. A book lay
upon the window-sill, evidently lately read. It was the copy of
Luther's German Commentary on the Lord's Prayer which I
had left that evening many months ago in the porch.
304 Chronicles of the Sch^tberg^Cotta Family.
1 sat down on a window seat, and in a little while I saw the
priest coming slowly up the garden. His form was much bent
dnce 1 saw him last He did not look up as he approached
the house. It seemed as if he expected no welcome. But
when I went out to meet him, he grasped my hand cordially,
and his face brightened. When, however, he glanced at the
book in my hand, a deeper shade passed over his brow ; and,
motioning me to a chau*, he sat down opposite me without
speaking.
After a few minutes, he looked up, and said in a husky
^oiee, '' That book did what all the denunciations and terrors
of the old doctrine could not do. It separated us. She has
left me."
He paused for some minutes, and then continued, "The
evening that she found that book in the porch, when I returned
I found her reading it 'See V she said, 'at last some one has
written a religious book for me ! It was left here open, in the
porch, at these words : " If thou dost feel that in the sight of
God and all creatures thou art a fool, a sinner, impure, and con-
demned, .... there remaineth no solace for thee, and no salva-
tion, unless in Jesus Christ To know him is to understand
what the apostle says, ' Christ has of God been made unto us
wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption.'
He is the bread of God our bread, given to us as children of
the heavenly Father. To believe is nothing else than to eat
this bread from heaven." And look again. The book says,
"It touches God's heart when we call him Father," ^and again,
" Which art in heaven** "He that acknowledges he has a
Father who is in heaven, owns that he is like an orphan on the
earth. Hence his heart feels an ardent longing, like a child
living away from its father's country, amongst strangers, wretched
and forlorn. It is as if he said, " Alas I my Father, thou art in
, heaven, and I, thy miserable child, am on earth, far from thee
amid danger, necessity, and sorrow." Ah, Ruprecht,' she said,
her eyes streaming with tears, * that is so like what I feel,-^o
lost, and orphaned, and far away from home.' And then, fearing
she had grieved me, she added, * Not that I am neglected. Thou
knowest I could never feel that But oh, can it be possible
FrMs Story. 305
that God would take me back, not after long years of penance,
but naWy and here, to his very heart f
^' I could say little to teach her, but from that time this book
was her constant companion. She begged me to find out all
the passages in my Latin Gospels which speak of Jesus suffering
for sinners, and of God as the Father. I was amazed to see
how many there were. The book seemed full of them. And
so we went on for some days, until one evening she came to me,
and said, ' Ruprecht, if God is indeed so infinitely kind and
good, and has so loved us, we must obey him, must we not?'
I could not for the world say No, and I had not the courage to
say Yes, for I knew what she meant."
Again he paused.
" I knew too well what she meant, when, on the next mom
ing, I found the breakfast laid, and ever3rthing swept and pre-
pared as usual, and on the table, in printed letters on a scrap
of paper, which she must have copied from the book, for she
could not write, ' Farewell. We shall be able to pray for each
other now. And God will be with us, and will give us to meet
hereafter, without fear of grieving him, in oiu: Fathers house.' "
" Do you know where she is ?" I asked.
'^ She has taken service in a farm-house several miles away in
the forest," he rephed. " I have seen her once. She looked
very thin and worn. But she did not see me."
The thought which had so often suggested itself to me before,
came with irresistible force into my mind then, " If those vows
of celibacy are contrary to the will of God, can they be bind-
ing 1" But I did not venture to suggest them to my host I
only said, "Let us pray that God will lead you both. The
heart can bear many a heavy burden if the conscience is free !"
"True," he said. And together we knelt down, whilst I
spoke to God. And the burden of our prayer was neither more
nor less than this, " Our Father which art in heaven, not our
will, but thine be done."
On the morrow I bade him farewell, leaving him several
other works of Luther's. And I determined not to lose an hour
in seeking Melancthon and the doctors at Wittemberg, and
placing this case before them.
20
3o6 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
And now, perhaps, I shall never see Wittembeig again !
It is not often that I have ventured into the monasteries, but
to-day a young monk, who was walking in the meadows of this
abbey, seemed so interested in my books, that I foUowecl him
to the convent, where he thought I should dispose of many
copies. Instead of this, however, whilst I was waiting in the
porch for him to return, I heard the sound of angry voices in
discussion inside, and before I could perceive what it meant,
three or four monks came to me, seized my pack, bound my
hands, and dragged me to the convent prison, where I now am.
^' It is time that this pestilence should be checked," said one
of them. '^ Be thankful if your fate is not the same as that of
your poisonous books, which are this evening to make a bonfire
in the court"
And with these words I was left alone in this low, damp,
dark cell, with its one little slit high in the wall, which, imtil
my eyes grew accustomed to it, seemed only to admit just light
enough to show the iron fetters hanging from the widls. But
what power can make me a captive while I can sing :
Mortis portis fractis, fortis
Fortior vim sustulit ;
Et per crucem regem trucem,
Infemonun perculit.
Lumen clarum tenebrarum
Scdibus resplenduit ;
Dum salvare, recreare
Quod creavit, voluit.
Hinc Creator, ne peccator,
Moreretur, moritur:
Cujus morte, nova sorte.
Vita nobis oritur.*
Are not countless hearts now singing this resurrection hymn,
to some of whom my hands brought the joyful tidings] In the
lonely parsonage, in the forest and farm, hearts set free by love
from the fetters of sin in village and city, in mountain and
plain!
And at Wittemberg, in happy homes, and in the convent, are
not my beloved singing it too ]
* Lo, the gates of death are broken
And the strong man armed is spoiled
Of his armour, which he trusted.
By the stronger Arm despoiled.
Vanquished is the Prince of Hell ;
Smitten by the crossy he fclL
That the sinner might not perish,
For him the Creator dies ;
By whose death, our dark lot chang-
ing.
Life again for us doth rise.
Fritz^s Story. ' 307
Yet the time seems long to lie in inaction here. With these
tidings, " The Lord is risen," echoing through her heart, would
it not have been hard for the Magdalene to be arrested on her
way to the bereaved disciples before she could tell it )
October*
I have a hope of escape. In a comer of my prison I dis-
covered, some days since, the top of an arch, which I believe
must belong to a blocked-up door. By slow degrees working
by night, and covering over my work by day I have dug out
a flight of steps which led to it This morning I succeeded in
dislodging one of the stones with which the door-way had been
roughly filled up, and through the space surveyed the ground
outside. It was a portion of a meadow, sloping to the stream
which turned the abbey milU This morning two of the monks
came to summon me to an examination before the Prior, as to
my heresies ; but to-night I hope to dislodge the few more
stones, and this very night, before morning dawn, to be treading
with free step the forest covered hills beyond the valley.
My limbs feel feeble with insufficient food, and the damp,
close air of the cell ; and the blood flows with feverish, uncer-
tain rapidity through my veins ; but, doubtless, a few hours on
the fresh, breezy hills will set all this right
And yet once more I shall see my mother, and ls^, and
Thekla, and little Gretchen, and all, all but one, who, I fear,
is still imprisoned in convent walls. Yet once more I trust to
go throughout the land spreading the joyful tidings," The
Lord is risen indeed f the work of redemption is accomplished,
and He who once lived and suflered on earth, compassionate to
heal, now lives and reigns in heaven, mighty to save
mfim.
XX.
TimNBNBXXG, May xsn.
[S the world really the same t Was there really ever a
spring like this, when the tide of life seems overflow-
ing and bubbling up in leaf-buds, flowers, and songs,
and streams ?
It cannot be only that God has given me the great blessing
of Bertrand de Cr^qui's love, and that life opens in such bright
fields of hope and work before us two ; or Uiat this is the first
spring I ever spent in the country. It seems to me that God
is really pouring a tide of fresh life throughout the world.
Fritz has escaped firom the prison at Maintz, and he writes
as if he felt this an Easter-tide for all men. In all places, he
says, the hearts of men are opening to the glad tidings of the
redeeming love of God.
Can it be, however, that every May is such a festival among
the woods, and that this solemn old forest holds such fairy
holiday every year, garlanding its bare branches and strewing
every brown nook which a sunbeam can reach, with showers of
flowers, such as we strew on a bride's pathi And then, who
could have imagined that those grave old firs and stately birches
could become the cradles of all these delicate-tufled blossoms and
tenderly-folded leaflets, bursting on all sides firom their gummy
casings % And ^joy of all joys ! ^it is not unconscious vegetable
life only which thus expands around us. It is God touching
every branch and hidden root, and waking thein to beauty!
It is not sunshine merely, and soft breezes; it is our Father
smiling on his works, and making the world fresh and fair for
his children, it is the healing touch and the gracious Voice we
have learned to know. " We are in the world, and the world
Thekla^s Story, 309
was made by Thee /' and ^^TeDeum laudamus: we acknowledge
thee, O Saviour, to be the Lord."
Our Chriemhild certainly has a beautiful home. Bertrand's
home, also, is a castle in the country, in Flanders. But he says
their country is not like this forest-land. It has long been
cleared by industrious hands. There are long stately avenues
leading to his father's chateau ; but all around, the land is level,
and waving with grass and green or golden corn-fields. That,
also, must be beautiful. But probably the home he has gone
to prepare for me may not be there. Some of his family are
very bitter against what they call his Lutheran heresy, and
although he is the heir, it is very possible that the branch of the
family which adheres to the old religion may wrest the inherit-
ance from him. That, we think, matters little. God will find
tte right place for us, and lead us to it, if we ask him. And
if it be in the town, after all, the tide of life in human hearts
is nobler than that in trees and flowers. In a few months we
shall know. Perhaps he may return here, and become a pro-
fessor at Wittemberg, whither Dr. Luther's name brought him
a year since to study.
yune 1521..
A rumour has reached us, that Dr. Luther has disappeared
on his way back from Worms.
This spring, in the world as well as in the forest, will doubt-
less have its storms. Last night, the thunder echoed from hill
to hill, and the wind wailed wildly among the pines. Looking
out of my narrow window in the tower on the edge of the rock,
where I sleep, it was awful to see the foaming torrent below
gleaming in the lightning-flashes, which opened out sudden
glimpses into the depths of the forest, leaving it doubly mys-
terious.
I thought of Fritz's lonely night, when he lost himself in the
forest; and thanked God that I had learned to know the
thunder as His voice, and His voice as speaking peace and
pardon. Only, at such times I should like to gather all dear
to me around me ; and those dearest to me are scattered far
and wide.
The old knight Ulrich is rather impetuous and hot-tempered;
3 10 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
and his sister, Ulrich's aunt, Dame Hermentrud, is grave and
stately. Fortunately, they both look on Chriemhild as a wonder
of beauty and goodness ; but I have to be rather careful. Dame
Hermentrud is apt to attribute any over-vehemence of mine in
debate to the burgher Cotta blood; and although they both
listen with interest to Ulrich or Chriemhild's version of Dr.
Luther's doctrines, Dame Hermentrud frequently warns me
against unfeminine exaggeration or eagerness in these matters,
and reminds me that the ancestors of the Gersdorf &mily were
devout and excellent people long before a son was bom to Hans
Luther the miner.
The state of the peasants distresses Chriemhild and me ex-
tremely. She and Ulrich were full of plans for their good when
they came here to live ; but she is at present almost exclusively
occupied with the education of a little knightly creature, who
came into the world two months since, and is believed to con-
centrate in his single little person all the ancestral virtues of all
the Gersdorfs, to say nothing of the Schonbergs. He has not.
Dame Hermentrud asserts, the slightest feature of resemblance
to the Cottas. I cannot, certainly, deny that he bears un-
mistakable traces of that aristocratic temper and that lofty taste
for ruling which at times distinguished my grandmother, and,
doubtless, all the Gersdorfs from the days of Adam downward,
or at least from the time of Babel. Beyond that, I believe, few
pedigrees are traced, except in a general way to the sons of
Noah. But it is a great honour for me to be connected, even
in the humblest manner, with such a distinguished little being.
In time, I am not without hopes that it will introduce a little
reflex nobility even into my burgher nature ; and meantime
Chriemhild and I secretly trace remarkable resemblances in
the dear baby features to our grandmother, and even to our
beloved, sanguine, blind father. It is certainly a great consola-
tion that our father chose our names from the poems and the
stars and the calendar of aristocratic saints, instead of from the
lowly Cotta pedigree.
Ulrich has not indeed by any means abandoned his scheme
of usefulness among the peasantry who live on his uncle's
estates. But he finds more opposition than he expected. The
Thekla's Story, 311
old knight, although ready enough to listen to any denunciations
of the self-indulgent priests and lazy monks (especially those of
the abbey whose hunting-grounds adjoin his own), is very averse
to making the smallest change in anything. He says the boors
are difficult enough to keep in order as it is ; that if they are
taught to think for themselves, there will be no safety for the
game, or for anything else. They will be quoting the Bible in
all kinds of wrong senses against their rightful lords, and will
perhaps even take to debating the justice of the hereditary feuds,
and refuse to follow theu: knight's banner to the field.
As to religion, he is quite sure that the Ave and the Pater
are as much as will be expected of them ; whilst Dame Her-
mentrud has most serious doubts of this new plan of writing
books and reading prayers in the language of the common
people. They will be thinking themselves as wise as the priests,
and perhaps wiser than their masters.
But Ulrich's chief disappointment is with the peasants them-
selves. They seem as little anxious for improvement as the
lords are for them, and are certainly suspicious to a most irritat-
ing degree of any schemes for their welfare issuing from the
castle. As to their children being taught to read, they consider
it an invasion of their rights, and murmur that if they follow the
nobles in hunt and foray, and till their fields, and go to mass on
Sunday, the rest of their time is their own, and it is an usurpation
in priest or knight to demand more.
It will, I fear, be long before the dry, barren crust of their
dull hard life is broken ; and yet the words of life are for them
as much as for us ! And one great difficulty seems to me, that
if they were taught to read, there are so few German religious
books. Except a few tracts of Dr. Luther's, what is there that
they could understand % If some one would only translate the
record of the words and acts of our Lord and his apostles, it
would be worth while then teaching every one to read.
And if we could only get them to confide in us ! There
must be thought, and we know there is affection underneath all
this reserve. It is a heavy heritage for the long ancestry of the
Gersdorfs to have bequeathed to this generation, these recollec-
tions of tyranny and wrong, and this mutual distrust Yet
3 1 2 Chronicles of tJie Schonberg-Cotta Family.
Ulrich says it is too common throughout the land. Many of the
old privileges of the nobles were so terribly oppressive in hard
or careless hands.
The most promising field at present seems to be among the
household retainers. Among these there is strong personal at-
tachment ; and the memory of Ulrich's pious mother seems to
have left behind it that faith in goodness which is one of the
most precious legacies of holy lives.
Even the peasants in the village speak lovingly of her; of the
medicine she used to distil from the forest-herbs, and distribute
with her own hands to the sick. There is a tradition also in
the castle of a bright maiden called Beatrice who used to visit
the cottage homes, and bring sunshine whenever she came. But
she disappeared years ago, they say; and the old family nurse
shakes her head as she tells me how the Lady Beatrice's heart
was broken, when she was separated by family feuds from her
betrothed, and after that she went to the convent at Nimptschen,
and has been dead to the world ever since.
Nimptschen ! that is the living grave where our precious Eva
is buried. And yet where she is I am sure it can be no grave
of death. She will bring life and blessings with her. I will
write to her, especially about this poor blighted Beatrice.
Altogether the peasants seem much less suspicious of the
women of the Gersdorf family than of the men. They will often
listen attentively even to me. And when Chriemhild can go
among them a little more, I hope better days will dawn.
August X52Z.
This morning we had a strange encounter. Some days since
we received a mysterious intimation from Wittemberg, that Dr.
Luther is alive and in friendly keeping, not far from us. To-
day Ulrich and I were riding through the forest to visit an out-
lying farm of the Gersdorfs in the direction of Eisenach, when
we heard across a valley the huntsman's horn, with the cry of
the dogs in full chase. In a few moments an opening among
the trees brought us in sight of the hunt sweeping towards us up
the opposite slopes of the valley. Apart from the hunt, and
nearer us, at a narrow part of the valley, we observed a figure
Thekla's Story, 313
in the cap and plumes of a knight, apparently watching the
chase as we were. As we were looking at him, a poor be-
wildered leveret flew towards him, and cowered close to his
feet. He stooped, and gently taking it up, folded it in the long
sleeve of his tunic, and stepped quickly aside. In another
minute, however, the hunt swept up towards him, and the dogs
scenting the leveret, seized on it in its refuge, dragged it down,
and killed it.
This unusual little incident, this human being putting himself
on the side of the pursued, instead of among the pursuers, ex-
cited our attention. There was also something in the firm
figure and sturdy gait that perplexingly reminded us of some
one we knew. Our road lay across the valley, and Ubich rode
aside to greet the strange knight. In a moment he returned to
me, and whispered,
"It is Martin Luther!''
We could not resist the impulse to look once more on the
kind honest face, and riding close to him we bowed to him.
He gave us a smile of recognition, and laying his hand on
Ulrich's saddle said, softly, " The chase is a mystery of higher
things. See how, as these ferocious dogs seized my poor leveret
from its refiige, Satan rages against souls, and seeks to tear from
their hiding-place even those already saved. But the Arm which
holds them is stronger than mine. I have had enough of this
kind of chase," he added; "sweeter to me the chase of the
bears, wolves, boars, and foxes which lay waste the Church, than
that of these harmless creatures. And of such rapacious beasts
there are enough in the world."
My heart was full of the poor peasants I had been seeing
lately. I never could feel afraid of Dr Luther, and this oppor-
tunity was too precious to be thrown away. It always seemed
the most natural thing in the world to open one's heart to him.
He understood so quickly and so fully. As he was wishing us
good-bye, therefore, I said (I am afraid, in that abrupt blunder-
ing way of mine),
" Dear Dr. Luther, the poor peasants here are so ignorant !
and I have scarcely anything to read to them which they can
understand. Tell some ohe, I entreat you, to translate the
3 14 Chronicles of the Schmberg-Coita Family.
Gospels into German for them; such German as your ^ Discourse
on the Magnificat,' or *The Lord's Prayer/ for they all un-
derstand that''
He smiled, and said, kindly,
'^ It is being done, my child. I am trying in my Patmos
tower once more to unveil the Revelation to the common
people j and, doubtless, they will hear it gladly. That book
alone is the sun from which all true teachers draw their light
Would that it were in the language of every man, held in every
hand, read by every eye, listened to by every ear, treasured up
in every heart And it will be yet, I trust"
He began to move away, but as we looked reverently after
him he turned to us again, and said, " Remember the wilder-
ness was the scene of the temptation. Pray for me, that in the
solitude of my wilderness I may be delivered from the tempter."
And waving his hand, in a few minutes he was out of sight
We thought it would an intrusion to follow him, or to inquire
where he was concealed. But as the hunt passed away, Ulrich
recognised one of the huntsmen as a retainer of the Elector
Frederick at his castle of the Wartburg.
And now when eveiy night and morning in my prayers I add,
as usual, the name of Dr. Luther to those of my mother and
father and all dear to me, I think of him passing long days
and nights alone in that grim castle, looking down on the dear
old Eisenach valley, and I say, " Lord, make the wilderness to
him the school for his ministry to all our land."
For was not our Saviour himself led first into the wilderness,
to overcome the tempter in solitude, before he came forth to
teach, and heal, and cast out devils)
October,
Ulrich has seen Dr. Luther again. He was walking in the
forest near the Wartburg, and looked very ill and sad. His
heart was heavy on account of the disorders in the Church, the
falsehood and bitterness of the enemies of the gospel, and the
impetuosity or lukewarmness of too many of its friends. He
said it would almost have been better if they had left him to
die by the hands of his enemies. His blood might have cried
to God for deliverance. He was ready to yield himself to them
The k la *s Story. 3 1 5
as an ox to the yoke. He would rather be burned on live coals,
than sleep away the precious years thus, half alive, in sloth and
ease. And yet, from what Ulrich gathered further from him of
his daily life, his "sloth and ease" would seem arduous toil
to most men. He saw the room where Dr. Luther lives and
labours day and night, writing letters of consolation to his
friends, and masterly replies, they say, to the assailants of the
truth, and (belter than all) translating the Bible from Hebrew
and Greek into German.
The room has a large window commanding many reaches of
the forest; and he showed Ulrich the rookery in the tops of the
trees below, whence he learned lessons in politics from the grave
consultations of the rooks who hold their Diet there ; he also
spoke to him of the various creatures in rock and forest which
soothed his solitude, the birds singing among the branches, the
berries, wild flowers, and the clouds and stars. But he alluded
also to fearful conflicts, visible and audible appearances of the
Evil One ; and his health seemed much shattered.
We fear that noble loving heart is wearing itself out in the
lonely fortress. He seems chafing like a war-horse at the echo
of the distant battle; or a hunter at the sound of the chase; or,
rather, as a captive general who sees his troops, assailed by force
and stratagem, broken and scattered, and cannot break his
chains to rally and to lead them on.
Yet he spoke most gratefully of his hospitable treatment in
the castle; said he was living like a prince or a cardinal; and
deprecated the thought that the good cause would not prosper
without his presence.
" I cannot be with them in death," he said, " nor they with
me ! Each must fight that last fight, go through that passion
alone. And only those will overcome who have learned how
to win the victory before, and grounded deep in the heart that
word, which is the great power against sin and the devil, that
Christ has died for each one of us, and has overcome Satan for
ever."
He said also that if Melancthon lived it mattered little to the
Church what happened to him. The Spirit of Elijah came in
double power on Elisha.
3 16 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
And he gave Ulrich two or three precious fragments of his
translation of the Gospels, for me to read to the peasants.
I have gone with my precious bits of the German Bible that
is to be into many a cottage during this month, simple narra-
tives of poor, leprous, and palsied people, who came to the
Lord, and he touched them and healed their diseases; and of
sinners whom he forgave.
It is wonderful how the simple people seem to drink them
in; that is, those who care at all for such things. " Is this in-
deed what the Lord Christ is like?" they say; "then, surely,
we may speak to him in our own words, and ask just what we
want, as those poor men and women did of old. Is it true,
indeed, that peasants, women, and sick people could come
straight to the Lord himself] Was he not always kept off from
common people by a band of priests and saints? Was he in-
deed to be spoken to by all, and He such a great Lordl"
I said that I thought it was the necessity of human princes,
and not their glory, to be obliged to employ deputies, and not
let each one plead his own case. They look greatest afar off,
surrounded by the pomp of a throne, because in themselves
they are weak and sinful, like other men. But he needed no
pomp, nor the dignity of distance, because he is not like other
men, but sinless and divine, and the glory is in Himself, not in
the things around him.
Then I had a narrative of the crucifixion to read ; and many
a tear have I seen stream over rough cheeks, and many a smile
beam in dim aged eyes as I read this.
" We seem to understand it all at once," an old woman said;
and yet there always seems something more in it each time."
December.
This morning I had a letter from Bertrand, ^the first for
many weeks. He is full of hope; not, indeed, of recovering
his inheritance, but of being at Wittemberg again in a few weeks.
I suppose my face looked very bright when I received it and
ran with the precious letter to my own room; for Dame Her-
Thekla *s Story. 317
mentrud said much this evening about receiving everything with
moderation, and about the propriety of young maidens having
a very still and collected demeanour, and about the uncertainty
of all things below. My heavenly Father knows I do not for-
get that all things are uncertain; although, often, I dare not
dwell on it But He has given me this good gift He Himself
and I will thank him with an overflowing heart for it I
I cannot understand Dame Hermentrud's religion. She seems
to think it prudent, and a duty, to take everything God gives
coolly, as if we did not care very much about it, lest He should
think he had given us something too good for us, and grudge it
to us, and take it away again.
No ; if God does take away, He takes away as He gave, in
infinite love ; and I would not for the world add darkness to the
dark days, if they must come, by the bitter regret that I did not
enjoy the sunshine whilst He gave it For, indeed, I cannot
help fearing sometimes, when I think of the martyrs of old, and
the bitterness of the enemies of the good tidings now. But
tlien I try to look up, and try -to say, " Safer, O Father, in thy
hands than in mine." And all the comfort of the prayer de-
pends on how I can comprehend and feel that name, " Father!"
XXI.
CisTRRciAN Convent, NiiiFTSCMB]r
September a, t5az.
[HEY have sent me several sheets of Dr. Luther's trans-
lation of the New Testament, from Uncle Cotta's
press at Wittemberg.
Of all the works he ever did for God, this seems to me the
mightiest and the best None has ever so deeply stirred our
convent Many of the sisters positively refuse to join in any
invocation of the saints. They declare that it must be Satan
himself who has kept this glorious book locked up in a dead
language out of reach of women and children and the common
people. And the young nuns say it is so interesting, it is not
in the least like a book of sermons, or a religious treatise.
" It is like everyday life," said one of them to me, " with
what every one wants brought into it ; a perfect Friend, so in-
finitely good, so near, and so completely understanding our
inmost hearts. -A^, Sister Eva," she added, " if they could only
hear of this at home 1
October.
To-day we have received a copy of Dr. Luther's thesis against
the monastic life.
" There is but one only spiritual estate," he writes, " which is
holy and makes holy, and that is Christianity, the faith which
is the common right of all."
" Monastic institutions," he continues, " to be of any use
ought to be schools, in which children may be brought up until
they are adults. But as it is, they are houses in which men and
women become children, and ever continue childish."
Evcis Story. 319
Too welly alas I I know the truth of these last words ; tlie
hopeless, childish occupation with trifles, into which the majority
of the nuns sink when the freshness of youth and the bitter
conflict of separation from all dear to the heart has subsided,
and the great incidents of life have become the decorating the
church for a festival, or the pomp attending the visit of an In-
spector or Bishop.
It is against this I have striven. It is this I dread for the
young sisters; to see them sink into contented trifling with reli-
gious playthings. And I have been able to see no way of escape,
unless, indeed, we could be transferred to some city and devote
ourselves to the case of the sick and poor.
Dr. Luther, however, admits of another solution. We hear
that he has counselled the Prior of the Monastery at Erfurt to
sufifer any monks who wish it freely to depart. And many, we
have been told, in various monasteries have already left, and
returned to serve God in the world
Monks can, indeed, do this. The world is open before them,
and in some way they are sure to find occupation. But with us
it is difiierentl Tom away from our natural homes, the whole
world around us is a trackless desert
Yet how can I dare to say this % Since the whole world is
the work of our heavenly Father's hands, and may be the way
to our Father's house, will not He surely find a place for each
of us in it, and a path for us through it )
November xo.
Nine of the younger nuns have come to the determination,
if possible, to give iip the conventual life, with its round of
superstitious observances. This evening we held a consultation
in Sister Beatrice's cell. Aunt Agnes joined us.
It was decided that each should write to her relatives, simply
confessing that she believed the monastic vows and life to be
contrary to the Holy Scriptures, and praying to be received
back into her family.
Sister Beatrice and Aunt Agnes decided to remain patiently
where they were.
" My old home would be no more a home to me now than
the convent," sister Beatrice said. " There is liberty for me
320 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
to die here, and an open way for my spirit to return to
God."
And Aunt Agnes said,
" Who knows but that there may be some lowly work left for
me to do here yet 1 In the world I should be as helpless as a
child, and why should I return to be a burden on my kindred."
They both urged me to write to Elsfe or Aunt Cotta to re-
ceive me. But I can scarcely think it my dut}'. Aunt Cotta
has her children around her. Else's home is strange to me.
Besides, kind as every one has been to me, I am as a stray waif
on the current of this world, and have no home in it I think
God has enabled me to cheer and help some few here, and
while Aunt Agnes and Sister Beatrice remain, I cannot bear the
thought of leaving. At all events I will wait
November 92.
Fritz is in prison again. For many weeks they had heard
nothing from him, and were wondering where he was, when a
letter came from a priest called Ruprecht Haller, in Pranconia.
He says Fritz came to his house one evening in July, remained
the night, left next morning with his pack of Lutheran books,
intending to proceed direct to Wittemberg, and gave him the
address of Aunt Cotta there. But a few weeks afterwards a
young monk met him near the Dominican Convent, and asked if
he were the priest at whose house a pedlar had spent a night
a few weeks before. The priest admitted it ; whereon the young
monk said to him, in a low, hurried accent,
" Write to his friends, if you know them, and say he is in the
prison of the convent, under strong suspicion of heresy. I am
the young monk to whom he gave a book on the evening he
came. Tell them I did not intend to betray him, although I led
him into the net; and if ever they should procure his escape,
and you see him again, tell him I have kept his book." The
good priest says something also about Fritz having been his
salvation. And he urges that the most strenuous exertions should
be made to liberate him, and any powerful friends we have should
be entreated to intercede, because the Prior of the Dominican
Convent where he is imprisoned is a man of the severest temper,
and a mighty hater of heretics.
Eva's Story. 321
Powerful friends ! I know none whom we can entreat but
God.
It was in July, then, that he was captured, two months since.
I wonder if it is only my impatient spirit! but I feel as if I must
go to Aunt Cotta. I have a feeling she will want me now. I
think I might comfort her ; for who can tell what two months
in a Dominican prison may have done for himi
In our convent have we not a prison, low, dark, and damp
enough to weigh the life out of any one in six weeks ! From
one of the massive low pillars hang heavy iron fetters, happily
rusted now from disuse; and in a comer are a rack and other
terrible instruments, now thrown aside there, on which some of
the older nuns say they have seen stains of blood.
When he was in prison before at Mainz, I did not seem so
desponding about his deliverance as I feel now.
Are these fears God's merciful preparations for some dreadful
tidings about to reach usl or are they the mere natural en-
feebling of the power to hope as one grows older?
December^ i$n.
Many disappointments have fallen on us during the last fort-
night. Answer after answer has come to those touching entreaties
of the nine sisters to their kindred, in various tones of feeling,
but all positively refusing to receive them back to their homes.
Some of the relatives use the bitterest reproaches and the
severest menaces. Others write tenderly and compassionately,
but all agree that no noble family can possibly bring on itself
the disgrace of aiding a professed nun to break her vows. Poor
children I my heart aches for them, some of them are so young,
and were so confident of being welcomed back with open arms,
remembering the tears with which they were given up.
Now indeed they are thrown on GoA He will not fail them;
but who can say what thorny padis their feet may have to
tread?
It has also been discovered here that some of them have
written thus to their relations, which renders their position far
more difficult and painful.
Many of the older nuns are most indignant at what they con-
sider an act of tlie basest treachery and sacrilege. I also am
21
322 Chronicles of the Schmberg-Cotta Family.
forbidden to have any more intercourse with the suspected sisters.
Search has been made in every cell, and all the Lutheran books
have been seized, whilst the strictest attendance is required at all
the services.
February zo, 1533.
Sister Beatrice is dead, after a brief illness. The gentle,
patient spirit is at rest
It seems difficult to think of joy associated with that subdued
and timid heart, even in heaven. I can only think of her as
at rest.
One night after she died I had a dream, in which I seemed
to see her entering into heaven. Robed and veiled in white, I
saw her slowly ascending the way to the gates of the City. Her
head and her eyes were cast on the ground, and she did not
seem to dare to look up at the pearly gates, even to see if they
were open or closed. But two angels, the gentlest spirits in
heaven, came out and met her, and each taking one of her hands,
led her silently inside, like a penitent child. And as she enter-
ed, the harps and songs within seemed to be hushed to music
soft as the dreamy murmur of a summer noon. Still she did
not look up, but passed through the golden streets with her
hands trustingly folded in the hands of the angels, until she stood
before the throne. Then from the throne came a Voice, which
said, " Beatrice, it is I ; be not afraid." And when she heard
that voice, a quiet smile beamed over her face like a glory, and
for the first time she raised her eyes ; and sinking at His feet,
murmured, f' Home I" And it seemed to me as if that one word
from the low, trembling voice vibrated through every harp in
heaven ; and from countless voices, ringing as happy children's,
and tender as a mother's, came back, in a tide of love and music,
the words, " Welcome home."
This was only a dream; but it is no dream that she is there!
She said little in her illness. She did not suffer much. The
feeble frame made little resistance to the low fever which attack-
ed her. The words she spoke were mostly expressions of thank-
fulness for little services, or entreaties for forgiveness for any
little pain she fancied she might have given.
Aunt Agnes and I chiefly waited on her. She was uneasy if
Eva^s Story.
323
we were long away from her. Her thoughts often recurred to
her girlhood in the old castle in the Thuringian Forest; and she
liked to hear me speak of Chriemhild and Ulrich, and their
infant boy. One evening she called me to her, and said, '^ Tell
my ister Hermentrud, and my brother, I am sxure they all meant
kindly in sending me here; and it has been a good place
for me, especially since you came. But tell Chriemhild and
XJlrich," she added, "if they have daughters, to remember
plighted troth is a sacred thing, and let it not be lightly severed.
Not that the sorrow has been evil for me; only I would not
have another suffer. All, all has been good for me, and I so
unworthy of all !
Then passing her thin hands over my head as I knelt beside
her, she said, " Eva, you have been like a mother, a sister, a
child, everything to me. Go back to your old home when I
am gone. 1 like to think you will be there."
Then, as if fearing she might have been ungrateful to Aunt
Agnes, she asked for her, and said, " I can never thank you enough
for all you have done for me. The blessed Lord will remember
it; for did he not say, ' In that ye have done it unto the leasts "
And in the night, as I sat by her alone, she said, " Eva, 1
have dreaded very much to die. 1 am so very weak in spirit,
and dread everything. But I think God must make it easier for
the feeble such as me. For although I do not feel any stronger
I am not afraid now. It must be because He is holding me up."
She then asked me to sing; and with a faltering voice I sung,
as well as I could, the hymn, Astani angdorum chori:
High the angel-choirs are raising
Heart and voice in harmony :
The Creator King still praising,
Whom in beauty there they see !
Sweetest strains from soft harps stealing,
Tnunpets notes of triumph pealing ;
Radiant wings and white robes gleaming,
Up the steps of glory streaming,
Where the heavenly bells are ringing^
Holy holy, holy, singing
To the mighty Trinity I
For all earthly care and tiighing
In that city cease to be I
And two days after, in the grey of the autumn morning, she
died. She fell asleep with the name of Jesus on her lips.
It is strange how silent and empty the convent seems, only
because that feeble voice is hushed and that poor shadowy form
has passed awayl
324 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
February X59Z.
Sister Beadce has been laid in the convent churchyard with
solemn, mournful dirges and masses, and stately ceremonies,
which seemed to me little in harmony with her timid, shrink-
ing nature, or with the peace her spirit rests in now.
The lowly mound in the churchyard, marked by no memorial
but a wooden cross, accords better with her memory. The
wind will rustle gently there next summer, through the grass;
and this winter the robin will warble qtiietly in the old elm
above.
But I shall never see the grass clothe that earthy mound.
It is decided that I am to leave the convent this week. Aunt
Agnes and two of the young sisters have just left my cell, and
all is planned.
The petty persecutions against those they call the Lutheran
Sisters increase continually, whilst severer and more open pro-
ceedings are threatened. It is therefore decided that I am to
make my escape at the first favourable opportunity, find my
way to Wittemberg, and then lay the case of the nine nuns be-
fore the Lutheran doctors, and endeavour to provide for their
rescue.
February 30, 1593.
At last the peasant's dress in which I am to escape is in my
cell, and this very night, when all is quiet, I am to creep out of
the window of Katherine von Bora's cell, into the convent
garden. Aunt Agnes has been nervously eager about my going,
and has been busy secretly storing a little basket with provisions.
But to-night, when I went into her cell to wish her goodbye, she
quite broke down, and held me tight in her arms, as if she could
never let me go, while her lips quivered, and tears rolled slowly
over her thin, furrowed cheeks. " Eva, child," she said, " who
first taught me to love in spite of myself, and then taught me
that God is love, and that he could make me, believing in Jesus,
a happy, loving child again ! how can I part with theel"
" Thou wilt join me again," I said, " and ypur sister who loves
thee so dearly !"
She shook her head and smiled through her tears, as she
siad,
Eva's Story, 325
** Poor helpless old woman that I am, what would you all
do with me in the busy life outside?"
But her worst fear was for me, in my journey alone to Wittem-
berg, which seemed to her, who for forty years had never passed
the convent walls, so long and perilous. Aunt Agnes always
thinks of me as a young girl, and imagines every one must think
me beautiful, because love makes me so to her. She is sure
they will take me for some princess in disguise.
She forgets I am a quiet, sober-looking woman of seven-and
twenty, whom no one will wonder to see gravely plodding along
the highway.
But I almost made her promise to come to us at Wittemberg;
and at last she reproached herself with distrusting God, and said
she ought never to have feared that his angels would watch
over me.
Once more, then, the world opens before me; but I do not
hope (and why should I wish 1) that it should be more to me
than this convent has been, a place where God will be with
me and give me some little loving services to do for him.
But my heart does yearn to embrace dear Aunt Cotta and
Elsib once more, and little Thekla. And when Thekla marries,
and Aunt and Uncle Cotta are left alone, I think they may want
me, and Cousin Eva may grow old among Elsb's children, and
all the grandchildren, helping one and another a httle, and
missed a little when God takes me.
But chiefly I long to be near Aunt Cotta, now that Fritz is in
that terrible prison. She always said I comforted her more
than any one, and I think I may again.
XXII.
October 1521.
IjHRISTOPHER has just returned from a journey to
Halle. They have dared once more to establish the
sale of indulgences there, under the patronage of the
young and self-indulgent Archbishop Albert of Mainz. Many
of the students and the more thoughtful burghers are full of indig-
nation at seeing the great red cross once more set up, and the
heavenly pardons hawked through the streets for sale. This
would not have been attempted, Gottfried feels sure, had not
the enemy believed that Dr. Luther's voice is silenced for ever.
Letters from him are, however, privately handed about among
us here, and more than one of us know that he is in safe keep-
ing not very far from us.
November.
Gottfried has just brought me the letter from Luther to the
Archbishop of Mainz ; which will at least convince the indul-
gence-mongers that they have roused the sleeping lion.
He reminds the Archbishop-Elector that a conflagration has
already been raised by the protest of one poor insignificant monk
against Tetzel; he warns him that the God who gaVe strength
to that feeble human voice because it. spoke his truth, " is living
Still, and will bring down the lofty cedars and the haughty
Pharaohs, and can easily humble an Elector of Mainz although
there were four Emperors supporting him." He solemnly
requires him to put down that avaricious sale of lying pardons
at Mainz, or he will speedily publish a denunciation (which he
has already written) against " The New School at Halle." "For
Luther," he says, " is not dead yet"
Elsk's Story, 327
We are in great doubt how the Archbishop will bear such a
bold remonstrance.
Norember^o.
The remonstrance has down its work. The Prince Arch-
bishop has written a humble and apologetic letter to Dr. Luther,
and tJie indulgences are once more banished from Halle.
At Wittemberg, however, Dr. Luther's letters do not at all
compensate for his presence. There is great confusion here,
and not seldom there are encounters between the opposite
parties in the streets.
Almost all the monks in the Augustinian Convent refused
some weeks since to celebrate private masses or to adore the
host The gentle Dr. Melancthon and the other doctors at first
remonstrated, but were at length themselves convinced, and
appealed to the Elector of Saxony himself to abolish these
idolatrous ceremonies. We do not yet know how he will act.
No public alterations have yet been made in the Church
services.
But the great event which is agitating Wittemberg now is the
abandonment of the cloister and the monastic life by thirteen of
the Augustinian monks. The Pastor Feldkirchen declared
against priestly vows, and married some months since. But he
was only a secular priest; and the opinions of all good men
about the marriage of the priests of the parochial churches have
long been undivided amongst us.
Concerning the monks, however, it is diflferent For the
priests to marry is merely a change of state ; for the monks to
abandon their vows is the destruction of their order, and of the
monastic life altogether.
Gottfried and I are fully persuaded they are right; and we
honour greatly these men, who, disclaiming maintenance at
other people's expense, are content to place themselves among
the students at the university. More especially, however, I
honour the older or less educated brethren, who, relinquishing
the consideration and idle plenty of the cloister, set themselves
to learn some humble trade. One of these has apprenticed
himself to a carpenter; and as we passed his bench the other
day, and watched him perseveringly trying to train his unaccus-
328 Chronicles of tite Schonberg-Cotta Family.
tomed fingers to handle the tools, Gottfried took off his cap and
respectfully saluted him, saying,
" Yes, that is right Christianity must begin again with the
carpenters home at Nazareth."
In our family, however, opinions are divided. Our dear,
anxious mother perplexes herself much as to what it will all lead
to. It is true that Fritz's second imprisonment has greatly
shaken her faith in the monks; but she is distressed at the un-
settling tendencies of the age. To her it seems all destructive ;
and the only solution she can imagine for the difficulties of tlie
times is, that these must be the latter days, and that when every-
thing is pulled down, our Lord himself will come speedily to
build up his kingdom in the right way.
Deprived of the counsel of Fritz and her beloved Eva, and
of Dr. Luther ^in whom lately she had grown more to confide,
although she always deprecates his impetuosity of language
she cannot make up her mind what to think about anything.
She has an especial dread of the vehemence of the Archdeacon
Carlstadt; and the mild Melancthon is too much like herself in
disposition for her to lean on his judgment.
' Nevertheless, this morning, when I went to see them, I found
her busily preparing some nourishing soup ; which, when I asked
her, she confessed was destined for the recusant monk who had
become a carpenter.
" Poor creatures," she said apologetically, " they were accus-
tomed to live well in the cloister, and I should not like them to
feel the difference too suddenly."
Our grandmother is more than eighty now. Her form is still
erect, although she seldom moves from her arm-chair; and her
faculties seem little dimmed, except that she cannot attend to
anything for any length of time. Sometimes I think old age to
her is more like the tender days of early spring, than hard and
frosty winter. Thekla says it seems as if this life were dawning
softly for her into a better; or as if God were keeping her, like
Moses, with undimmed eyes and strength unabated, till she may
have the glimpse of the Promised Land, and see the deliverance
she has so long waited for close at hand.
With our children she is as great a favourite as she was with
Elsies Story, 329
us; she seems to have forgotten her old ways of finding fault;
either because she feels less responsibility about the third gene-
ration, or because she sees all their little faults through a
mellowed light I notice, too, that she has fallen on quite a
diflferent vein of stories from those which used to rivet us. She
seems to pass over the legendary lore of her early womanhood,
back to the experiences of her own stirring youth and childhood.
The mysteries of our grandfather's history, which we vainly
sought to penetrate, are all opened to Gretchen and the boys.
The saints and hermits, whose adventures were our delight, are
succeeded by stories of secret Hussite meetings to read the
Scriptures among the forests and mountains of Bohemia; of
wild retreats in caves, where whole families lived for months in
concealment; of heart-rending captures or marvellous escapes.
The heroes of my boys will be, not St. Christopher and St.
George, but Hussite heretics ! My dear mother often throws in
a warning word to the boys, that those were evil times, and
that people do not need to lead such wild lives now. But the
text makes far more impression on the children than the
commentary.
Our grandmother's own chief delight is still in Dr. Luther's
writings. I have lately read over to her and my father, I know
not how many times, his letter from the Wartburg, "to the little
band of Christ at Wittemberg," with his commentary accom-
panying it on the 37 th Psalm " Fret not thyself because of
evildoers."
Our dear father is full of the brightest visions. He is per-
suaded that the whole world is being rapidly set right, and that
it niatters little, indeed, that his inventions could not be com-
pleted, since we are advancing at full speed into the Golden
Age of humanity.
Thus, from very opposite points and through very diflferent
paths, he and my mother arrive at the same conclusion.
We have heard from Thekla that Ulrich has visited Dr. Luther
at the Wartburg, where he is residing. I am so glad to know
where he is. It is always so difficult to me to think of people
without knowing the scene around them. The figure itself
seems to become shadowy in the vague, shadowy, unknown
330 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
world around it It is this which adds to my distress about
Fritz. Now I can think of Dr. Luther sitting in thai large
room in which I waited for the Elector with my embroidery, so
many years ago ^looking down the steep over the folded hills,
reaching one behind another till the black pines and the green
waving branches fade into lovely blue beneath the golden
horizon. And at sunset I seem to see how the shadows creep
over the green valleys where we used to play, and the low sun
lights up the red stems of the pines.
Or in the summer noon I see him sitting with his books-
great folios, Greek, and Hebrew, and Latin ^toiling at that
translation of the Book of God, which is to be the blessing oi
all our people; while the warm sunbeams draw out the aromatic
scent of the fir-woods, and the breezes bring it in at the open
window.
Or at early morning I fancy him standing by the castle walls,
looking down on the towers and distant roofs of Eisenach, while
the bell of the great convent booms up to him the hour; and
he thinks of the busy life beginning in the streets, where once
he 'begged for bread at Aunt Ursula Cotta's door. Dear Aunt
Ursula, I wish she could have lived till now, to see the rich
harvest an act of loving-kindness will sometimes bring forth.
Or at night, again, when all sounds ate hushed except the
murmur of the unseen stream in the valley below, and the sigh-
ing of the wind through the forest, and that great battle begins
which he has to fight so often with the powers of darkness, and
he tries to pray, and cannot lift his heart to God, I picture him
opening his casement, and looking down on forest, rock, and
meadow, lying dim and lifeless beneath him, glance from these
up to God, and re-assiu-e himself with the truth he delights
to utter
" God lives still T feeling, as he gazes, that night is only
hiding the sun, not quenching him, and watching till the grey
of morning slowly steals up the sky and down into the
forest
Yes, Dr. Melancthon has told us how he toils and how he
suffers at the Wartburg, and how once he wrote, "Are my
friends forgetting to pray for me, that the conflict is so terrible?"
Elsi's Story. 331
No ; Gottfried remembers him always among our dearest names
of kith and kindred.
" But," he said to-day, "we must leave the training of our
chief to God"
Poor, tried, perplexed Saint Elizabeth ! another royal heart is
suffering at the Wartburg now, another saint is earning his
crown through the cross at the old castle home; but not to be
canonized in the Papal Calendar !
December 37. '
The Chapter of the Augustinian Order in Thuringia and
Misnia has met here within this last month, to consider the
question of the irrevocable nature of monastic vows. They
have come to the decision that in Christ there is neither layman
nor monk; that each is free to follow his conscience.
Christmas Day, 1531.
This has been a great day with us.
Archdeacon Carlstadt announced, some little time since, that
he intended, on the approaching Feast of the Circumcision, to
administer the holy sacrament to the laity under the two species
of bread and wine. His right to do this having been disputed,
he hastened the accomplishment of his purpose, lest it should
be stopped by any prohibition from the court
To-day, after his sermon in the City Church, in which he
spoke of the necessity of replacing the idolatrous sacrifice of
the mass by the holy supper, he went to the altar, and, after
pronouncing the consecration of the elements in German, he
turned towards the people, and said solemnly,
' " Whosoever feels heavy laden with the burden of his sins,
and hungers and thirsts for the grace of God, let him come and
receive the body and blood of the Lord."
A brief silence followed his words, and then, to my amaze-
ment, before any one else stirred, I saw my timid, retiring
mother slowly moving up the aisle, leading my father by the
hand. Others followed ; some with reverent, solemn demeanour,
others perhaps with a little haste and over eagerness. And as
the last had retired from the altar, the archdeacon, pronouncing
the general absolution, added solenmly,
332 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
" Go, and sin no more."
A few moments' pause succeeded, and then, from many
voices here and there, gradually swelling to a full chorus, arose
the Agnus Dei,
" Lamb of God, who takest away the sin of the world, have
mercy on us. Give us peace."
We spent the Christmas, as usual, in my father's house.
Wondering, as I did, at my mother's boldness, I did not like to
speak to her on the subject; but, as we sat alone in the after-
noon, while our dear father, Gottfried, Christopher, and the
children had gone to see the skating on the Elbe, she said to
me,
" Elsfe, I could not help going. It seemed like the voice of
our Lord himself saying to me, * Thou art heavy laden come!'
I never understood it all as I do now. It seemed as if I saw
the gospel with my eyes, saw that the redemption is finished,
and that now the feast is spread. I forgot to question whether
I repented, or believed, or loved enough. I saw through the
ages the body broken and the blood shed for me on Calvary;
and now I saw the table spread, and heard the welcome, and I
could not help taking your father's hand and going up at once."
" Yes, dear mother, you set the whole congregation the best
example!" I said.
" I !" she exclaimed. " Do you mean that I went up before
any one else 1 What ! before all the holy men, and doctors,
and the people in authority? Els^, my child, what have I
done] But I did not think of myself, or of any one else. I
only seemed to hear His voice calling me; and what could I
do but go] And, indeed, I cannot care now how it looked !
Oh, Elsb," she continued, " it is worth while to have the world
thus agitated to restore this feast again to the Church; worth
while," she added with a trembling voice, " even to have Fritz
in prison for this. The blessed Lord has sacrificed himself for
us, and we are living in the festival. He died for sinners. He
spread the feast for the hungry and thirsty. Then those who
feel their sins most must be not the last but the first to come.
I see it all now. That holy sacrament is the gospel for
me."
Elsi's Story. 333
Ffbruary lo, xsaa.
The whole town is in commotion.
Men have appeared among us who say that they are directly
inspired from heaven; that study is quite unnecessary indeed,
an idolatrous concession to the flesh and the letter; that it is
wasting time and strength to translate the Holy Scriptures,
since, without their understanding a word of Greek or Hebrew,
God has revealed its meaning to their hearts.
These men come from Zwickau. Two of them are cloth-
weavers; and one is Munzer, who was a priest. They also de-
clare themselves to be prophets. Nicholas Storck, a weaver,
their leader, has chosen twelve apostles and seventy-two disciples,
in imitation of our Lord. And one of them cried in awful
tones, to-day through the streets,
"Woe, woe to the impious govemers of Christendom!
Within less than seven years the world shall be made desolate.
The Turk will overrun the land. No sinner shall remain alive.
God will purify the earth by blood, and all the priests will be
put to death. The saints will reign. The day of the Lord is
at hand. Woe ! woe ! "
Opinions are divided throughout the university and the town
about them. The Elector himself says he would rather yield
up his crown and go through the world a beggar than resist the
voice of the Lord. Dr. Melancthon hesitates, and says we
must try the spirits, whether they be of God. The Archdeacon
Carlstadt is much impressed with them, and from his profes-
sorial chair even exhorts the students to abandon the vain pur-
suits of carnal wisdom, and to return to earn their bread, accord-
ing to God's ordinance, in the sweat of their brow. The
master of the boys' school called, from the open window of the
school-room, to the citizens to take back their children. Not a
few of the students are dispersing, and others are in an excitable
state, ready for any tumult. The images have been violently
torn from one of the churches and burnt. The monks of the
Convent of the Cordeliers have called the soldiers to their aid
against a threatened attack.
Gottfried and others are persuaded that these men of
Zwickau are deluded enthusiasts. He says, "The spirit
334 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
which undervalues the word of God cannot be the Spirit of
God"
But among the firmest opponents of ihese new doctrines is,
to our surprise, our charitable mother. Her gentle, lowly
spirit seems to shrink from them as with a heavenly instinct
She says, " The Spirit of God humbles does not puff up."
When it was reported to us the other day that Nicholas Storck
had seen the angel Gabriel in the night, who flew towards him
and said to him, "As for thee, thou shalt be seated on my
throne!" the mother said,
'' It is new language to the angel Gabriel, to speak of his
throne. The angels in old times used to speak of the throne
of God."
And when another said that it was time to sift the chaff from
the wheat, and to form a Church of none but saints, she
said,
" That would never suit me, then. I must stay outside, in
the Church of redeemed sinners. And did not St Paul him-
self say, as Dr. Luther told us, * Sinners, of whom I am chiefl'"
" But are you not afiraid," some one asked her, " of dishon-
ouring God by denying his messengers, if, after all, these pro-
phets should be sent from him ) "
"I think not," she replied quietly. 7 " Until the doctors are
sure, I think I cannot displease my Saviour by keeping to the
old message."
My father, however, is much excited about it; he sees no
reason why there should not be prophets at Wittemberg as well
as at Jerusalem ; and in these wonderful days, he argues, what
wonders can be too great to believe 1
I and many others long exceedingly for Dr. Luther. I
believe, indeed, Gottfried is right, but it would.be terrible to
make a mistake ; and Dr. Luther always seems to see straight
to the heart of a thing at once, and storms the citadel, while
Dr. Melancthon is going round and round, studying each point
of the fortifications.
Dr. Luther never wavers in opinion in his letters, but warns
us most forcibly against these delusions of Satan. But then
people say he has not seen or heard the " prophets." One letter
Elsies Story. 335
can be discussed and answered long before another comes,
and the living eye and voice are much in such a conflict as this.
Wliat chief could lead an army on to battie by letters ]
February a6, xsaa.
Our dove of peace has come back to our home; our Eva!
This evening, when I went over with a message to my mother,
to my amazement I saw her sitting with her hand in my father's,
quietly reading to him the twenty-third psalm, while my grand-
mother sat listening, and my mother was contentedly knitting
beside them.
It seemed as if she had scarcely been absent a day, so quietly
had she glided into her old place. It seemed so natural, and
yet so like a dream, that the sense of wonder passed from me
as it does in dreams, and I went up to her and kissed her fore-
head.
"Dear Cousin Elsfe, is it you!" she said. "I intended to
have come to you the first thing to-morrow."
The dear, peaceful, musical voice, what a calm it shed over
the home again !
"You see you have all left Aunt Cotta," she said, with a
slight tremulousness in her tone, ''so I am come back to be
with her always, if she will let me."
There were never any protestations of affection between my
mother and Eva, they understand each other so completely.
February 28.
Yes, it is no dream. Eva has left the convent, and is one of
us once more. Now that she has resumed all her old ways, I
wonder more than ever how we could have got on without her.
She speaks as quietly of her escape from the convent, and her
lonely journey across the country, as if it were the easiest and
most every-day occurrence. She says every one seemed anxious
to help her and take care of her.
She is very little changed. Hers was not a face to change.
The old guileless expression is on her lips the same trustful,
truthful light in her dark soft eyes; the calm, peaceful brow,
that always reminded one of a sunny, cloudless sky, is calm and
336 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
bright still; and around it the golden hair, not yet grown from
its conventual cutting, clusters in little curis which remind me
of her first days with us at Eisenach. Only all the character of
the face seems deepened, I cannot say shadowed, but penetrated
with that kind of look which I fancy must always distinguish
the faces of the saints above from those of the angels, ^those
who have suffered from those who have only sympathized ; that
deep, tender, patient, trusting, human look, which is stamped
on those who have passed to the heavenly rapturous " Thy will
be done" through the agony of " Not my will, but Thiner
At first Gretchen met her with the kind of reverent face she
has at church; and she asked me afterwards, "Is that really
the Cousin Eva in the picture ? " But now there is the most
familiar intimacy between them, and Gretchen confidingly and
elaborately expounds to Cousin Eva all her most secret plans
and delights. The boys, also, have a most unusual value for
her good opinion, and appear to think her judgment beyond
that of ordinary women ; for yesterday little Fritz was eagerly
explaining to her the virtues of a new bow that had been given
him, formed in the English fashion.
She is very anxious to set nine young nuns, who have em-
braced the Lutheran doctrine, free from Nimptschen. Gott-
fried thinks it very difficult, but by no means impracticable in
time.
Meanwhile, what a stormy world our dove has returned to !
the university well-nigh disorganized; the tovm in commotion;
and no German Bible yet in any one's hands, by which, as
Gottfried says, the claims of these new prophets might be
tested.
Yet it does not seem to depress Eva. She says it seems to
her like coming out of the ark into a new world; and, no doubt,
Noah did not find everything laid out in order for him. She is
quite on my mother's side about the prophets. She says, the
apostles preached not themselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord.
If the Zwickau prophets preach him, they preach nothing new;
and if they preach themselves, neither God nor the angel
Gabriel gave them that message.
Our great sorrow is Fritz's continued imprisonment At first
Elsi*s Story. 337
Ve felt sure he would esc^ape, but every month lessens our
hopes, until we scarcely dare speak of him except in our prayers.
Yet daily, together with his deliverance, Gottfried and I pray
for the return of Dr. Luther, and for the prosperous completion
of his translation of the German Bible, which Gottfried believes
will be the greatest boon Dr. Luther has given, or can ever
give, to the German people, and through them to Christendom.
Saiurdayt March 8, 1522.
The great warm neart is beating amongst us once more !
Dr. Luther is once more dwelling quietly in the Augustinian-
cloister, which he left for Worms a year ago. What changes
since then ! He left us amid our tears and vain entreaties not
to trust his precious life to the treacherous safe-conduct which
had entrapped John Huss to the stake.
He returns unscathed and triumphant ^the defender of the
good cause before emperor, prelates, and princes the hero of
our German people.
He left citizens and students for the most part trembling at
the daring of his words and deeds.
He returns to find students and burghers impetuously and
blindly rushing on in the track he opened, beyond his judgment
and convictions.
He left, the foremost in the attack, timidly followed as he
hurried forward, braving death alone.
He returns to recall the scattered forces, dispersed and
divided in wild and impetuous pursuit.
Will, then, his voice be as powerful to recall and re-organize
as it was to urge forward ]
He wrote to the Elector, on his way from the Wartburg, dis-
claiming his protection declaring that he returned to the flock
God had committed to him at Wittemberg, called and con-
strained by God himself, and under mightier protection than
that of an elector ! " The sword," he said, " could not defend
the truth. The mightiest are those whose faith is mightiest.
Reljdng on his master, Christ, and on him alone, he came."
Gottfried says it is fancy, but already it seems to me I see a
diflference in the town less bold;, loud talking, than, the day
22
33' Chronicles of the ScUmberg-Cotta Family.
before yesterday; as in a family of eager, noisy boys, wkose
fistther is amongst them again. But after to-moirow, we diall be
able to judge better. He is to preach in the city pulpit
Monday, Mfarch xo, 159X
We have heard him preach oAce morei Thank God, those
days io the wilderness, as he called it, have surely not bec^ lost
days for Dr. Luther.
As he stood again in the pulpit, many among the crowded
congregation could not refrain from shedding tears of joy. In
that familar form and truthful, earnest face, we saw the man
who had stood unmoved before the emperor and all the great
ones of the empire alone, upholding the truth of God.
Many of us saw, moreover, with even deeper emotion, the
sulOferer who, during those last ten months, had stood before an
enemy more terrible than pope or emperor, in the solitude of
the Wartburg; and while his own heart and flesh were often
well-nigh failing in the conflict, had never failed to carry on the
struggle bravely and triumphandy for us his flock; sending
masterly replies to the University of Paris; smiting the lying
traffic with indulgences, by one noble remonstrance, from the
tremblbg hands of the Archbishop of Mainz; writing letter after
letter of consolation or fatherly counsel to the little flock of
Christ at Wittembeig; and, through all, toiling at that translation
tiie Word of God, which is the great hope of our countr}^
But older, tenderer, more familiar associations, mastered all
the others when we heard his voice again ^the faithful voice
that had warned and comforted us so long in public and in
private. To others. Dr. Luther might be the hero of Worms,
the teacher of Germany, the St George who had smitten the
dragon of falsehood: to us he was the true, afiectionate pastor;
and many of us, I believe, heard little of the first words of his
sermon, for the mere joy of hearing his voice again, as the clear,
deep tones, vibrated through the silent church.
. He began with commending our faith. He said we had made
much progress during his absence. But he went on to say, " We
must have more than faith we must have lov^ If a man with
a sword in his hand happens to be alone, it matters little whether
Ehfs Story, 339
he keep it in the scabbard or not; but if he is in the midst
of a crowd, he must take care to hold it so as not to hurt any
one.
* A mother begins with giving her infant milk. Would it live
if she gave it first meat and wine?
'^ But, thou, my friend, hast, perhaps had enough of milk! It
may be well for thee. Yet let thy weaker, younger brother
take it The time was when thou also couldst have taken
nothing else.
" See the sun I It brings us two things light and heat The
rays of light beam directly on us. No king is powerful enough
to intercept those keen, direct,'swift rays. But heat is radiated
back to us from every side. Thus, like the light, faith should
ever be direct and inflexible; but love, like the heat, should
radiate on all sides, and meekly adapt itself to the wants of all.
" The abolition of the mass, you say," he continued, " is ac-
cording to Scripture. I agree with you. But in abolishing it,
what regard had you for order and decency? You should have
offered fervent prayers to God, public authority should have been
applied to, and every one would have seen then that the thing
came from God.
" The mass is a bad thing; God is its enemy; it ought to be
abolished; and I would that throughout the whole world it were
superseded by the supper of the gospel. But let none tear any
one away from it with violence. The matter ought to be com-
mitted to God. It is His Word that must act, and not we.
And wherefore 1 do you say? Because I do not hold the hearts
of men in my hand as the potter holds the clay in his. Our
work is to speak ; God will act Let us preach. The rest be-
longs to him. If I employ force, what do I gain? Changes in
demeanour, outward shows, grimaces, shams, hypocrisies. But
what becomes of sincerity of heart, of faith, of Christian love ?
All is wanting where these are wanting; and for the rest I would
not give the stalk of a pear.
" What we want is the heart; and to win that, we must preach
the gospel Then the word will drop to-day into one heart,
to-morrow into another, and will so work that each will forsake
the mass. God effects more than you and I and the whole world
340 Chronicles of the Schoftbefg-Cotta Family.
combined could attempt He secures the heart; and when that
is won, all is won.
" I say not this in order to re establish the mass. Since it has
been put down, in God's name let it remain so. But ought it to
have been put down in the way it has beeni St Paul, on arriv-
ing at the great city of Athens, found altars there erected to
false gods. He passed from one to another, made his own re-
flections on all, but touched none. But he returned peaceably
to the Forum, and declared to the people that all those gods
were mere idols. This declaration laid hold on the hearts of
some, and the idols fell without Paul's touching them. I would
preach, I would speak, I would write, but I would lay constraint
on no one ; for faith is a voluntary thing. See what I have
done 1 1 rose in opposition to the pope, to indulgences, and the
Papists; but I did so without tumult or violence. I pressed
before all things the word of God; I preached, I wrote; I did
nothing else. And while I was asleep, or seated at table in
conversation with Amsdorf and Melancthon, over our Wittem-
berg beer, that Word which I had been preaching was working,
and subverted the popedom as never before it was damaged by
assault of prince or emperor. I did nothing; all was done by
the Word. Had I sought to appeal to force, Germany might
by this time have been steeped in blood. And what would have
been the result? Ruin and desolation of soul and body. I
therefore kept myself quiet, and left the Word to force its own
way through the world. Know you what the devil thinks when
he sees people employ violence in disseminating the gospel
among menl Seated with his arras crossed behind hell fire,
Satan says, with a malignant look and hideous leer, ' Ah, but
these fools are wise men, indeed, to do my work for me I' But
when he sees the Word go forth and engage alone on the field
of battle, then he feels ill at ease; his knees smite against each
other, he shudders and swoons away with terror."
Quietly and reverently, not with loud debatings and noisy
protestations of what they would do next, the congregation
dispersed.
The words of forbearance came with such weight from that
daring, fearless heart, which has braved the wrath of popedom
Els^s Story. 341
and empire alone for God, and still braves excommunication
and ban I
Wednesday, March ix.
Yesterday again Dr. Luther preached. He earnestly warned
us against the irreverent participation in the holy sacrament
" It is not the external eating which makes the Christian," he
said; " it is the internal and spiritual eating, which is the work
of faith, and without which all external things are inere empty
shows and vain grimaces. Now this faith consists in firmly be-
lieving that Jesus Christ is the Son of Gkd ; that having charged
himself with our sins and our iniquities, and having borne them
on the cross, he is himself the sole, the all-sufficient expiation;
that he ever appears before God; that he reconciles us to the
Father, and that he has given us the sacrament of his body in
order to strengthen our faith in that unutterable mercy. If I
believe these things, God is my defender: with him on my side,
I brave sin, death, hell, and demons ; they can do me no harm,
nor even touch a hair of my head. This spiritual bread is the
consolation of the afflicted, the cure of the sick, the life of the
dying, food to the hungry, the treasure of the poor. He who
is not grieved by his sins, ought not, then, to approach this
altar. What would he do there] Ah, did our conscience
accuse us, did our heart feel crushed at the thought of our
shortcomings, we could not then lightly approach the holy sacra-
ment" '
There were more among us than the monk Gabriel Didymus
(a few days since one of the most vehement of the violent fac-
tion, now sobered and brought to his right mind), that could
say as we listened, " Verily it is as the voice of-an-angel."
But, thank God, it is not the voice of an angel, but a human
voice vibrating to every feeling of our hearts the voice of our
own true, outspoken Martin Luther, who will, we trust, now
remain with us to build up with the same word which has already
cleared away so much.
And yet I cannot help feeling as if his absence had done its
work for us as well as his return. If the hands of violence can
be arrested now, I cannot but rejoice they have done just as
much as they have.
342 Chronicles of the ScJionberg-Coita Family,
Now, let Dr. Luther's principle stand. Abolish nothing that
is not directly prohibited by the Holy Scriptures.
March 30
Dr. Luther's eight discourses are finished, and quiet is restored
to Wittemberg. The students resume their studies^ the boys
return to school; each begins with a lowly heart once more the
work of his calling.
No one has been punished. Luther would not have force
employed either against the superstitious or the unbelieving in-
novators. " Liberty," he says, " is of the essence of faith."
With his tender regard for the sufferings of others we do not
wonder so much at this.
But we all wonder far more at the gentleness of his words.
They say the bravest soldiers make the best nurses of their
wounded comrades. Luther's hand seems to have laid aside
the battle-axe, and coming among his sick and wounded and
perplexed people here, he ministers to them gently as the kindest
woman as our own mother could, who is herself won over to
love and revere him with all her heart
Not a bitter word has escaped him, although the cause these
disorders are risking is the cause for which he has risked his life.
And there are no more tumults in the streets. The frightened
Cordelier monks may carry on their ceremonies without terror,
or the aid of soldiery. All the warlike spirits are turned once
more from raging against small external things, to the great battle
beginning everywhere against bondage and superstition.
Dr. Luther himself has engaged Dr. Melancthon's assistance
in correcting and perfecting the translation of the New Testament,
which he made rn the solitude of the Wartburg. Their friend-
ship seems closer than ever.
Christopher's press is in the fullest activity, and all seem full
of happy, orderly occupation again.
Sometimes I tremble when I think how much we seem to
depend on Dr. Luther, lest we should make an idol of him ; but
Thekla, who is amongst us again, said to me when I expressed
this fear,-
" Ah, dear Elsfe, that is the old superstition. When God gives
us a glorious summer and good harvest, are we to receive it
Elsies Story, 343
coldly and enjojr it tremblingly, lest he should send us a bad
season next year to prevent our being too happy 1 If he sends
the dark days, will lUie not also give us a lamp for our feet through
them I"
And even oiu: gentle mother said,
'' I think if God gives us a staff, Elsb, he inUnds us to lean on it"
"And when he takes it tLWzy,'* said Eva, ^ I think He is sure
to give us his own hand instead 1 I think what grieves God is,
when we use his gifts for what he did no^ intend them to be ; as
jf^ for instance, we were to f/anf our staff, instead of leaning on
it ; or to set it up as an image and adore it, instead of resting on
it and adoring God. Then^ I suppose, we might have to learn
that our idol was not in itself a support, or a living thing at all,
but only a piece of lifeless wood."
"Yes/* said Thekla decidedly, "when God gives us friends,
I believe he means us to love them as much as we can. And
when he ^ves us happiness, I am sure he means us to enjoy
it as much as we can. And when he gives soldiers a good gene-
ral, he means them to trust and follow him. And when he gives
us back Dr. Lvther and Cousin Eva," she added, drawing Eva's
hand from her work and covering it with kisses, " I am quite
sure he means us to welcome them with ail our hearts, and feel
that we can never make enough of them. O Els^," she added,
smiling, "you will never, I am afraid, be set quite free from the
old fetters. Every now and then we shall hear them clanking
about you, like the chains of the family ghost of the Gersdorfs.
You will never quite believe, dear good sister, that God is not
better pleased with you when you are sad than when you are
happy."
" He is often nearest," said Eva softly, " when we are sad."
And Thekla's lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears as she
replied in a diflferent tone,
" I think I know that too. Cousin Eva."
Poor child, she has often had to prove it Her heart must
often ache- when she thinks of the perilous position of Bertrand
de Cr^qui among his hostile kindred in Flanders. And it is
therefore she cannot bear a shadow of a doubt to be thrown on
the certainty of their re-union.
344 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
The evangelical doctrine is enthusiastically welcomed at Ant-
werp and other cities of the Low Countries. But, on the other
hand, the civil and ecclesiastical authorities oppose it vehemently,
and threaten persecution.
May 153a. .
Dr. Luther has had an interview with Mark Stiibner, the
schoolmaster Cellarius, anid others of the Zwickau prophets and
their disciples. He told them plainly that he believed their
violent, self-willed, fanatical proceedings were suggested, not by
the Holy Spirit of love and truth, but by the spirit of lies and
malice. Yet he is said to have listened to them with quietness.
Cellarius, they say, foamed and gnashed his teeth with rage,
but Stiibner showed more self-restraint
However, the prophets have all left Wittemberg, and quiet is
restored.
A calm has come down on the place, and on every home in
it the calm of order and subjection instead of the restless-
ness of self-will. And all has been accomplished through the
presence and the words of the man whom God has sent to be
our leader, and whom we acknowledge. Not one act of violence
has been done since he came. He would suffer no constraint
either on the consciences of the disciples of the "prophets," or
on those of the old superstition. He relies, as we all do, on
the effect of the translation of the Bible into German, which is
now quietly and. rapidly advancing.
Every week the doctors meet in the Augustinian Convent,
now all but empty, to examine the work done, and to consult
about the difficult passages. When once this is accomplished,
they believe God will speak through those divine pages direct
to all men's hearts, and preachers and doctors may retire to
their, lowly subordinate places.
XXIII.
Atlantis' Si0rg.
HRIEMHILD and I have always been the least clever
of the family, and with much less that is distinctive
about us. Indeed, I do not think there is anything
particularly characteristic about us, except our being twins.
Thekla says we are pure Saxons, and have neither of us any-
thing of the impetuous Czech or Bohemian blood ; which may
so far be good for me, because Conrad has not a little of the
vehement Swiss character in him. Every one always spoke of
Chriemhild and me, and thought of us together ; and when they
called us the beauties of the family, I think they chiefly meant
that we looked pleasant together by contrast Thekla says God
sends the flowers into the world as twins ; contrasting with each
other just as we did, the dark-eyed violets with the fair prim-
roses ; golden gorse, and purple heather. Chriemhild she used
sometimes to call sister Primrose, and me sister Violet Chriem-
hild, however, is beautiful by herself without me, so tall, and
fair, and placid, and commanding-looking, with her large grey
eyes, her calm broad brow, and her erect full figure, which always
made her gentle manner seem condescending like a queen's.
But I am nothing without Chriemhild ; only people used to like
to see my small slight figure, and my black eyes and hair, beside
hers.
I wonder what Conrad Winkelried's people will think of me
in that far-off" mountainous Switzerland whither he is to take me !
He is sure they will all love me ; but how can I tell ? Sometimes
my heart flutters a great deal to think of leaving home, and
Elsfe and the dear mother, and all. It is true Chriemhild seemed
346 Chronicles of the Schonberg^CMtk Family,
to find it quite natural when the time came, but slie is so diffe-
rent Every one was sure to be pleased with Chriniibild.
And I am so accustomed to love and kindness. Th^ttBiknow
me so well here, and how much less clever I am than theomtfi
that they all bear with me tenderly. Even Thekla, who is often
a little vehement, is always gentle with me, although she may
laugh a little sometimes when I say anything more foolish than
usual I am so often making discoveries of things that every
one else knew long since. I do not think I am so much afraid
on my own account, because I have so little right to expect any-
thing, and always get so much more than I deserve from our
dear heavenly Father and from every one. Only on Conrad's
account I should like to be a little wiser, because he knows s6
many languages, and is so very clever. When I spoke to Elsfe
about it once, she smiled and said she had the same kind of fears
once, but if we ask him, God will always give us just the wisdom
we want day by day. It is part of the " daily bread," she said.
And certainly Elsfe is not learned, and yet every one loves her,
and she does so much good in a quiet way. But then, although
she is not learned, she seems to me wise in little things. And
she used to write a Chronicle when she was younger than I am.
She told me so, although I have never seen it I have been
thinking that perhaps it is writing the Chronicle that has made
her wise, and therefore I intend to try to write one. But as at
present I can think of nothing to say of my own, I will begin
by copying a narrative Conrad lent me to read a few days since,
written by a young Swiss student, a friend of his, who has just
come to Wittemberg from St Gall, where his family live. His
name is Johann Kessler, and Conrad thinks him very good and
diligent
" Copy of Johann Kessler' s Narrative.
"As we were journeying towards Wittemberg to study the
Holy Scriptures, at Jena we encountered a fearful tempest, and
after many inquiries in the town for an inn where we might pass
the night, we could find none, either by seeking or asking ; no
one would give us a night's lodging. For it was carnival time,
when people have little care for pilgrims and strangers. So we
Atlantis' Story. 347
went forth again from the town, to tiy if we could find a village
where he might rest for the night
" At the gate, however, a respectable-looking man met us, and
spoke kindly to us, and asked whither we journeyed so late at
night, since in no direction could we reach house or inn where
we could find shelter before dark night set in. It was, more-
over, a road easy to lose; he counselled us, therefore, to remain
all night where we were.
" We answered,
'^ ' Dear father, we have been at all the inns, and they sent
us firom one to another ; everywhere they refused us lodging; we
have, therefore, no choice but to journey further.*
'' Then he asked if we had also inquired at the sign of the
Black Bear.
" Then we said,
" * We have not seen it Friend, where is it 1 '
" Then he led us a little out of the town. And when we saw
the Black Bear, lo, whereas all the otlier landlords had refused
us shelter, the landlord there came himself out at the gate to
receive us, bade us welcome, and led us into the room.
^' There we found a man sitting alone at the table, and before
him lay a litde book. He greeted us kindly, asked us to draw
near, and to place ourselves by him at the table. For our shoes
(may we be excused for writing it) were so covered with mud
and dirt, that we were ashamed to enter boldly into the cham-
ber, and had seated ourselves on a little bench in a comer near
the door.
" Then he asked us to drink, which we could not refiisc. When
we saw how cordial and friendly he was, we seated ourselves
near him at his table as he had asked us, and ordered wine that
we might ask him to drink in retiuiL We thought nothing else
but that he was a trooper, as he sat there, according to the cus-
tom of the country, in hosen and tunic, without armour, a sword
by his side, his right hand on the pommel of the sword, his left
grasping its hilt His eyes were black and deep, flashing and
beaming like a star, so that they could not well be looked at.
" Soon he began to ask what was our native country. But
he himself replied,
348 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
" ' You are Switzers. From what part of Switzerland 1'
"We answered,
"* From St GalL'
" Then he said,
" * If you are going hence to Wittembeig, as I hear, you will
find good fellow-countrymen there, namely, Doctor Hieronymus
Schurf, and his brother. Doctor Augustin.'
" We said,
" * We have letters to them.' And then we inquired,
" * Sir, can you inform us if Martin Luther is now at Wittem-
berg, or if not where he is 1'
" He said,
"*I have reliable information that Luther is not now at
Wittemberg. He will, however, soon be there. Philip Melanc-
thon is there now; he teaches Greek, and others teach Hebrew.
I counsel you earnestly to study both ; for both are necessary
in order to understand the Holy Scriptures.'
"We said,
" * God be praised ! For if God spare our lives we will not
depart till we see and hear that man ; since on his account
have we undertaken this journey, because we understood that
he purposes to abolish the priesthood, together with the mass,
as an unfounded worship. For as we have from our youth
been destined by our parents to be priests, we would know
what kind of instruction he will give us, and on what authority
he seeks to effect such an object.'
" After these words, he asked,
" * Where have you studied hitherto V
" Answer, * At Basel.'
"Then said he, 'How goes it at Basel? Is Erasmus of
Rotterdam still there, and what is he doing?'
" * Sir,' said we, * we know not that things are going on there
otherwise than well Also, Erasmus is there, but what he is
occupied with is unknown to any one, for he keeps himself very
quiet, and in great seclusion.'
" This discourse seemed to us verj- strange in the trooper ;
that he should know how to speak of both the Schurfs, of Philip,
and Erasmus, and also of the study of Hebrew and Greek.
Atlantic Story, 349
** Moreover, he now and then used Latin words, so that we
deemed he must be more than a common trooper.
" 'Friend,' he asked, 'what do they think in Switzerland of
Luther/
" ' Sir, there, as elsewhere, there are various opinions. Many
cannot enough exalt him, and praise God that He has made
His truth plain through him, and laid error bare ; many, on the
other hand, and among these more especially the clergy, con-
demn him as a reprobate heretic'
" Then he said, * I can easily believe it is the clergy that
speak thus.'
" With such conversation we grew quite confidential, so that
my companion took up the little book that lay before him, and
looked at it It was a Hebrew Psalter. Then he laid it quickly
down again, and the trooper drew it to himself. And my com-
panion said, ' I would give a finger from my hand to understand
that language.'
" He answered, ' You will soon comprehend it, if you are
diligent: I also desire to understand it better, and practise
myself daily in it'
" Meantime the day declined, and it became quite datk, when
the host came to the table.
" When he understood our fervent desire and longing to see
Martin Luther, he said,
" ' Good fiiends, if you had been here two days ago, you
would have had your wish, for he sat here at table, and ' (point-
ing with his finger) ' in that place.'
" It vexed and fretted us much that we should have lingered
on the way; and we vented our anger on the muddy and
wretched roads that had delayed us.
" But we added,
" * It rejoices us, however, to sit in the house and at the table
where he sat'
" Thereat the host laughed, and went out at the door.
"After a little while, he called me to come to him at the door
of the chamber. I was alarmed, fearing I had done something
unsuitable, or that I had unwittingly given some ofifence. But
the host said to me,
350 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
** ' Since I perceive that you so much wish to see and hear
Luther, ^that is he who is sitting with you.*
** I thought he was jesting, and said,^
" * Ah, Sir Host, you would befool me and my wishes with a
false image of Luther !*
" He answered,
" It is certainly he. But do not seem as if you knew this.'
" I could not believe it ; but I went back into the room, and
longed to tell my companion what the host had disclosed to me.
At last I turned to him, and whispered softly,
" * The host has told me that is Luther.'
" He, like me, could not at once believe it, and said,
** * He said, perhaps, it was Hutten, and thou hast misunder-
stood him.'
" And because the stranger's bearing and military dress suited
Hutten better than Luther, I suffered myself to be persuaded
he had said, ' It is Hutten,' since the two names had a some-
what similar sound. What I said further, therefore, was on the
supposition that I was conversing with Huldrich ab Hutten, the
knight
^* While this was going on, two merchants arrived, who in-
tended also to remain the night ; and after they had taken off
their outer coats and their spurs, one laid down beside him an
unbound book.
" Then he the host had (as I thought) called Martin Luther,
asked what the book was.
" * It is Dr. Martin Luther's Exposition of certain Gospels
and Epistles, just published. Have you not yet seen itf
" Said Martin, * It will soon be sent to me.'
" Then said the host,
" * Place yourselves at table ; we will eat'
''But we besought him to excuse us, and give us a place
apart But he said,
" ' Good friends, seat yourselves at the table. I will see that
you are welcome.*
" When Martin heard that, he said,
** * Come, come, I will settle the score with the host by4ind
by.'
Atlanta Staty^ 351
** During the meal, Marda said many pioos and friendly
virords, so that the merchants and we were dumb bdfoie him,
and heeded his discourse far more than our food. Afliong
other things, he complained, with a sigh, how the princes ifid
nobles were gathered at the Diet at Niimbeig on account ^
God's word, many difficult matters, and the oppre^on of the
German nation, and yet seemed to have no purpose belt to
bring about better times by means of toimieys, sleigh-rides, and
all kinds of vain, courtly pleasures; whereas the fear of God and
Christian prayer would accotnplish so much more.
" * Yet these,' said he sadly, * are our Christian princes 1'
" Further, he said, * We must hope that the evangelical truth
will bring forth better firuit in our children and successors ^who
will never have been poisoned by papal error, but will be planted
in the pure truth and word of God than in their parents, in
whom these eirors are so deeply rooted that they are hard to
eradicate.'
" After this, the merchants gave their opinion, and the elder
of them said, -
" ' I am a simple, unlearned layman, and have no special
understanding of these matters j but as I look at the thing, I
say, Luther must either be an angel from heaven or a devil
from hell. I would gladly give ten florins to be confessed by
him, for I believe he could and would enlighten my conscience.'
^' Meantime the host came secretly to us and said,
" * Martin has payed for yom: supper.*
'^ This pleased us much, not on account of the gold or the
meal, but because that man had made us his guests.
"After supper, the merchants rose and went into the stable
to look after their horses. Meanwhile Martin remained in the
room with us, and we thanked him for his kindness and
generosity, and ventured to say we took him to be Huldrich ab
Hutten. But he said,
" * I am not he.'
" Thereon the host came, and Martin said,
"'I have to-night become a nobleman, for these Switzers
take me for Huldrich ab Hutten.'
" And then he laughed at the jest, and said^
352 Chronicles of the Schonherg-Cotta Family,
'' 'They take me for Hutten, and you take me for Lutfaer.
Soon I shall become Markolfiis the clown.'
''And after this he took a tall beer-glass, and said, according
to the custom of the country,
" ' Switzers, drink after me a friendly draught to each other's
welfare.'
" But as I was about to take the glass from him, he dianged
it, and ordered, instead, a glass of wine, and said^
"'Beer is a strange and unwonted beverage to you. Drink
the wine.'
" Thereupon he stood up, threw his mantle over his shoulder,
and took leave. He offered us his hand, and said,
"'When you come to Wittemberg, greet Dr. Hieronymus
Schurf from me.'
" We said,
'"Gladly would we do that, but what shall we call you, that
he m^ understand the greeting )'
" He said,
'" Say nothing more than, He who is coming sends you greet-
ing. He will at once understand the words.*
" Thus he took leave of us, and retired to rest.
"Afterwards the merchants returned into the room, and
desired the host to bring them more to drink, whilst they had
much talk with him as to who this guest really was.
"The host confessed he took him to be Luther; whereupon
they were soon persuaded, and regretted that they had spoken
so unbecomingly before him, and said they would rise early
on the following morning, before he rode off, and beg him not
to be angry with them, or to think evil of them, since they had
not known who he was.
"This happened as they wished, and they found him the
next morning in the stable.
" But Martin said,. ' You said last night at supper you would
gladly give ten florins to confess to Luther. When you confess
yourselves to him you will know whether I am Martin Luther
or not*
" Further than this he did not declare who he was, but soon
afterwards mounted and rode off to W.ittemberg,
Atlantis' Story, 353
" On the same day we came to Naumburg, and as we entered
a village (it lies under a mountain, and I think the mountain is
called Orlamunde, and the village Nasshausen), a stream was
flowing through it which was swollen by the rain of the previous
day, and had carried away part of the bridge, so that no one
could ride over it. In the same village we lodged for the night,
and it happened that we again found in the inn the two mer-
chants; so they, for Luthefs sake, insisted on making us their
guests at this inn.
" On the Saturday after, the day before the first Sunday in
Lent, we went to Dr. Hieronymus Schurf, to deliver our letters
of introduction. Wlien we were called into the room, lo and
behold ! there we found the trooper Martin, as before at Jena ;
and with him were Philip Melancthon, Justus Jonas, Nicolaus
Amsdorf, and Dr. Augustin Schurf, who were relating to him
what had happened at Wittemberg during his absence. He
greeted us, and, laughing, pointed with his finger and said,
'This is Philip Melancthon, of whom I spoke to you.'"
I have copied this to begin to improve myself, that I may be
a better companion for Conrad, and also because in after years
I think we shall prize anything which shows how our Martin
Luther won the hearts of strangers, and how, when returning to
Wittemberg an excommunicated and outlawed man, with all the
care of the evangelical doctrine on him, he had a heart at
leisure for little acts of kindness and words of faithful counsel.
What a blessing it is for me, who can understand nothing of
the "Theologia Teutsch," even in German, and never could
have learned Latin like Eva, that Dr. Luther's sermons are so
plain to me, great and learned as he is. Chriemhild and I
always understood them; and although we could never talk
much to others, at night in our bed-room we used to speak to
each other about them, and say how very simple religion
seemed when he spoke of it, just to believe in our blessed
Lord Jesus Christ, who died for our sins, and to love him, and
to do all we can to make every one around . us happier and
better. What a blessing for people who are not clever, like
Chriemhild and me, to have been born in days when we are
354 CItronkks of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
taught that religion is faith and love, instead of all of those com-
plicated rules and lofty supernatural virtues which people used
to call religion.
And yet they say faith and love and humility are more really
hard than all the old penances and good worlcs.
But that must be, I think, to people who have never heaTd,
as we have from Dr. Luther, so mucli about God to make us
love him ; or to people who have more to be proud of than
Chriemhild and I and so find it more difficult to think little of
themselves.
XXIV.
WiTTEMBERG, October ll'XA.
|0W strange it seemed at first to be moving freely about
in the world once more, and to come back to the old
home at Wittemberg! Very strange to find the
places so little changed, and the people so much. The little
room where Elsd and I used to sleep, with scarcely an article
of furniture altered, except that Thekla's books are there instead
of Els^s wooden crucifix; and the same view over the little
garden, with its pear-tree full of white blossom, to the Elbe with
its bordering oaks and willows, all then in their freshest deli-
cate early green, while the undulations of the level land faded
in soft blues to the horizon.
But, unlike the convent, all the changes in the people seemed
to have been wrought by the touch of life rather than by that
of death.
In Elsd's own home across the street, the ringing of those
sweet childish voices, so new to me, and yet familiar with
echoes of old tones and looks of our own well-remembered
early days ! And on Els^ herself the change seemed only such
as that which develops the soft tints of spring into the green of
shadowing leaves.
Christopher has grown from the self-assertion of boyhood
into the strength and protecting kindness of manhood. Uncle
Cotta's blindness seems to dignify him and make him the cen-
tral object of every one's tender, reverent care, while his visions
grow brighter in the darkness, and more placid on account of
his having no responsibility as to fulfilling them. He seems to
nie a kind of hallowing presence in the family, calling out every
3 S 6 Chronicles of the Schonberg- Gotta Family.
one's sympathy and kindness, and pathetically reminding us by
his loss of the preciousness of our common mercies.
On the grandmother's heart the light is more like dawn than
sunset so fresh, and soft, and full of hope her old age seems.
The marks of fretting, daily anxiety, and care have been
smoothed from dear Aunt Cotta's face; and although a deep
shadow rests there often when she thinks of Fritz, I feel sure
sorrow is not now to her the shadow of a mountain of divine
wrath, but the shadow of a cloud which brings blessing and
hides light, which the Sun of love drew forth, and the Rainbow
of promise consecrates.
Yet he has the place of the first-bom in her heart With the
others, though not forgotten, I think his place is partly filled
^but never with her. Els^*s life is very full Atlantis never
knew him as the elder ones did; and Thekla, dearly as she
learned to love him during his little sojourn at Wittemberg, has
her heart filled with the hopes of her future, or at times over-
whelmed with its fears. With all it almost seems he would
have in some measure to make a place again, if he were to
return. But with Aunt Cotta the blank is as utterly a blank,
and a sacred place kept free from all intrusion, as if it were a
chamber of her dead, kept jealously locked and untouched since
the last day he stood living there. Yet he surely is not dead ;
I say so to myself and to her when she speaks of it, a thousand
times. Why, then, does this hopeless feeling creep over me
when I think of him? It seems so impossible to believe he
ever can be amongst us any more. If it would please God only
to send us some little word ! But since that letter from Priest
Ruprecht Haller, not a syllable has reached us. Two months
since, Christopher went to this priest's village in Franconia, and
lingered some days in the neighbourhood, making inquiries in
every direction around the monastery where he is. But he
could hear nothing, save that in the autumn of last year, the
little son of a neighbouring knight, who was watching his
mother's geese on the outskirts of the forest near the convent,
used to hear the sounds of a man's voice singing from the win-
dow of the tower where the convent prison is. The child used
to linger near the spot to listen to the songs, which, he said,
Eva's Story. 357
were so rich and deep sacred, like church hymns, but more
joyful than an)rthing he ever heard at church. He thought they
were Easter h)rmns; but since one evening in last October he
has never heard them, although he has oHen listened. Nearly a
year since now 1
Yet nothing can silence those resurrection h3anns in his
heart!
Aunt Cotta's great comfort is the holy sacrament. Nothing,
she says, lifts up her heart like that Other s3anbols, or writ-
ings, or sermons bring before her, she says, some part of truth ;
but the Holy Supper brings the Lord Himself before her. Not
one truth about him, or another, but himself; not one act
of his holy life alone, nor even his atoning death, but his very
person, human and divine, himself living, dying, conquering
death, freely bestowing life. She has learned that to attend that
holy sacrament is not, as she once thought, to perform a good
work, which always left her more depressed than before with
the feeling how unworthily and coldly she had done it; but to
look off from self to Him who finished the good work of redemp-
tion for us. As Dr. Melancthon says,
" Just as looking at the cross is not the doing of a good
work, but simply contemplating a sign which recalls to us the
death of Christ ;
" Just as looking at the sun is not the doing of a good work,
but simply contemplating a sign which recalls to us Christ and
his gospel ;
" So participating at the Lord's table is not the doing
of a good work, but simply the making use of a sign which
brings to mind the grace that has been bestowed on us by
Christ."
" But here lies the difference ; S3nnbols discovered by man
simply recall what they signify, whereas the signs given by God
not only recall the things, but further assure the heart with
respect to the will of God."
'^ As the sight of a cross does not justify, so the mass does
not justify. As the sight of a cross is not a sacrifice, either
for our sins or for the sins of others, so the mass is not a
sacrifice."
3S8 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
" There is but one sacrifice, there is but one satisfaction
Jesus Christ Beyond him there is nothing of the kind."
I have been trying constantly to find a refuge for the nine
evangelical nuns I left at Nimptschen, but hitherto in vain. I
do not, however, by any means despair. I have advised them
now to write themselves to Dr. Luther.
October 1522.
The German New Testament is published at last.
On September the 21st it appeared \ and that day, happening
to be Aunt Cotta's birthday, when she came down among us in
the morning, Gottfried Reichenbach met her, and presented
her with two large folio volumes in which it is printed, in the
name of the whole family.
Since then one volume always lies on a tablq in the gene-
ral sitting-room, and one in the window of Aunt Cotta's bed-
room.
Oflen now she comes down in the morning with a beaming
face, and tells us of some verse she has discovered Uncle
Cotta calls it her diamond-mine, and says, " The little mother
has found the El Dorado after all ! "
One morning it was,
" Cast all your care on him, for he careth for you ; " and that
lasted her many days.
To-day it was,
" Tribulation worketh patience ; and patience, experience ;
and experience, hope ; and hope maketh not ashamed ; because
the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost,
which is given unto us." " Eva," she said, " that seems to me
so simple. It seems to me to mean, that when sorrow comes,
then the great thing we have to do is, to see we do not lose
hold of patience; she seems linked to all the other graces, and
to lead them naturally into the heart, hand in hand, one by one.
Eva, dear child," she added, " is that what is meant ] "
I said how often those words had cheered me, and how
happy it is to think that all the while these graces are illumining
the darkness of the heart, the dark hours are passing away,
until all at once Hope steals to the casement and withdraws the
shutters ; and the light which has slowly been dawning all the
Eva*s Story, 359
time, streams into the heart, " the love of God shed abroad by
the Holy Ghost"
" But," rejoined Aunt Cotta, " we cannot ourselves bring in
Experience, or reach the hand of Hope, or open tlie window to
let in the light of Love ; we can only look up to God, keep firm
hold of Patience, and she will bring all the rest^
"And yet," I said, ^^ peace comes before patience^ peace
with God through faith in Him who was delivered for our
offences. All these graces do not lead us up to God. We
have access to him first, and in his presence we learn the rest"
Yes, indeed, the changes in the Wittemberg world since I
left it, have been wrought by the hand of life, and not by that
of death, or time, which is his shadow. For have not the
brightest been wrought by the touch of the Life himself?
It is God, not time, that has mellowed our grandmother's
character ; it is God and not time that has smoothed the care-
worn wrinkles from Aunt Cotta's brow.
It is life and not death that has all but emptied the Augus-
tinian convent, sending the monks back to their places in the
world, to serve God and proclaim his gospel.
It is the water of life that is flowing through home after home
in the channel of Dr. Luther's German Te^ament, and bringing
forth fruits of love, and joy, and peace.
And we know it is life and not death which is reigning in
that lonely orison, wherein the child heard the resurrection
hymns, and that is triumphing now in the heart of him who
sang them, wherever he may be !
XXV.
Cj^ckltt's Stern.
Ocieher 1599.
oj^NCE more the letters come regularly from Flanders ;.
^9 J and in most ways their tidings are joyful. Nowhere
^SA^ throughout the world, Bertrand writes, does the evan-
gelical doctrine find such an eager reception as there. The
people in the great free cities have been so long accustomed to
judge for themselves, and to speak their mind freely. The
Augustinian monks who studied at Wittemberg, took back the
gospel with them to Antwerp, and preached it openly in their
church, which became so thronged with eager hearers, that
numbers had to listen outside the doors. It is true, Bertrand
says, that the Prior and one or two of the monks have been
arrested, tried at Brussels, and silenced ; but the rest continue
undauntedly to preach as before, and the effect of the persecu-
tion has been only to deepen the interest of the citizens.
The great new event which is occupying us all now, however,
is the publication of Dr. Luther's New Testament. Chriemhild
writes that it is the greatest boon to her, because being afraid
to trust herself to say much, she simply reads, and the peasants
seem to understand that book better than anything she can say
about it ; or even, if at any time they come to anything which
perplexes them, they generally find that by simply reading on
it grows quite clear. Also, she writes, Ulrich reads it every
evening to all the servants, and it seems to bind the household
together wonderfully. They feel that at last they have found
something inestimably precious, which is yet no " privilege " of
man or class, but the common property of all.
In many families at Wittemberg the book is daily read, for
Thcklas Story, 361
there are few of those who can read at all who cannot afford a
copy, since the price is but a florin and a half.
New hymns also are beginning to spring up among us. We
are no more living on the echo of old songs. A few days since
a stranger from the north sang before Dr. Luther's windows, at
the Augustinian convent, a hymn beginning,
" Es ist das Heil uns kommen her.
Dr. Luther desired that it might be sung again. It was a
response from Prussia to the glad tidings which have gone
forth far and wide through his words ! He said " he thanked
God with a full heart."
The delight of having Eva among us once more is so great!
Her presence seems to bring peace with it It is not what she
says or does, but what she is. It is more like the effect of
music than anything else I know. A quiet seems to come over
one's heart from merely being with her. No one seems to fill
so little space, or make so little noise in the world as Eva, when
she is there ; and yet when she is gone, it is as if the music
and the light had passed from the place. Everything about
her always seems so in tune. Her soft, quiet voice, her gentle,
noiseless movements, her delicate features, the soft curve of her
cheek, those deep loving eyes, of which one never seems able
to remember anything but that Eva herself looks through them
into your heart.
All so diflferent from me, who can scarcely ever come into a
room without upsetting something, or disarranging some person,
and can seldom enter on a conversation without upsetting some
one's prejudices, or grating on some one's feelings !
It seems to me sometimes as if God did indeed lead Eva, as
the Psalm says, " by His eye ; " as if he had trained her to what
she is by the direct teaching of his gracious voice, instead of by
the rough training of circumstances. And nevertheless, she
never makes me feel her hopelessly above me. The light is
not like a star, which makes one feel " how peaceful it must
be there, in these heights," but brings little light upon our path.
It is like a lowly sunbeam coming down among us, and making
us warm and bright
362 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
She always makes me think of the verse about the saint who
was translated silently to heaven, because he had " walked with
Godr Yes, I am sure that is her secret
Only I have a malicious feeling .that I should like to see her
for once thoroughly tossed out of her calm, just to be quite
sure it is God*s peace, and not some natural or fairy gift, or a
stoical impassiveness from the "Theologia Teutsch." Some-
times I fancy for an instant whether it is not a little too much
with Eva, as if she were " translated " already ; as if she had
passed to the other side of the deepest earthly joy and sorrow,
at least as regards herself. Certainly she has not as regards
others. Her sympathy is indeed no condescending alms, flung
from the other side of the flood, no pitying glance cast down
on grief she feels, but could never share. Have I not seen her
lip quiver, when I spoke of the dangers around Bertrand, even
when my voice was firm, and felt her tears on my face when she
drew me to her heart.
December 1522.
That question at last is answered 1 I have seen Cousiu Eva
moved out of her calm, and feel at last quite sure she is not
" translated " yet Yesterday evening we were all sitting in the
family-room. Our grandmother was dozing by the stove. Eva
and my mother were busy at the table, helping Atlantis in pre-
paring the dresses for her wedding, which is to be early in next
year. I was reading to my father from Dr. Melancthon's new
book, " The Common Places," (which all learned people say is
so much more elegant and beautifully written than Dr. Luther's
works, but which is to me only just a composed book, and not
like all Dr. Luther's writings, a voice from the depths of a heart.)
I was feeling like my grandmother, a little sleepy, and, indeed,
the whole atmosphere around us seemed drowsy and still, when
our little maid, Lottchen, opened the door with a frightened
expression, and before she could say anything, a pale tall man
stood there. Only Eva and I were looking towards the door.
I could not think who it was, until a low startled voice ex-
claimed " Fritz ! " and looking round at Eva, I saw she had
fainted.
In another instant he was kneeling beside her, lavishing every
Tkeckla^s Story, 363
tender name on her, while my mother stood on the other side,
holding the unconscious form in her arms, and sobbing out
Fritz's name.
Our dear father stood up, asking bewildered questions our
grandmother awoke, and rubbing her eyes, surveyed the whole
group with a puzzled expression, murmuring,
" Is it a dream ? Or are the Zwickau prophets right after all,
and is it the resurrection ] "
But no one seemed to remember that tfears and endearing
words and bewildered exclamations were not likely to restore
any one from a fainting fit, until to my great satisfaction our
good motherly Elsb appeared at the door, saying, " "What is it ?
Lottchen ran over to tell me she thought there were thieves."
Then comprehending everything at a glance, she dipped a
handkerchief in water, and bathed Eva's brow, and fanned her
with it, until in a few minutes she awoke with a short sobbing
breath, and in a little while her eyes opened, and as they rested
on Fritz, a look of the most perfect rest came over her face,
she placed her other hand on the one he held already, and
closed, her eyes again. I saw great tears falling imder the
closed eyelids. Then looking up again and seeing my mother
bending over her, she drew down her hand and laid it on
Fritz's, and we left those three alone together.
When we were all safely in the next room, we all by one
impulse began to weep. I sobbed,
"He looks so dreadfully ill. I think they have all but
murdered him."
And Elsfe said,
" She has exactly the same look on her face that came over
it when she was recovering from the plague, and he stood
motionless beside her, with that rigid hopeless tranquillity on
his face, just before he left to be a monL What will happen
next ] "
And my grandmother said in a feeble broken voice,
" He looks just as your grandfather did when he took leave
of me in prison. Indeed, sometimes I am quite confused in
mind. It seems as if things were coming over again. I can hai'dly
make out whether it is a dream, or a ghost, or a resurrection.
364 Chronicles of the Schonherg-Cotta Family,
Our father only did not join in our tears. He said what was
very much wiser.
" Children, the greatest joy our house has known since Fritz
left has come to it to-day. I^t us give God thanks." And
we all stood around him while he took the little velvet cap
from his bald head and thanked God, while we all wept out our
Amen. After that we grew calmer; the overwhelming tumult
of feeling, in which we could scarcely tell joy from sorrow,
passed, and we began to understand it was indeed a great joy
which had been given to us.
Then we hea!rd a little stir in the house, and my mother
summoned us back ; but we found her alone with Fritz, and
would insist on his submitting to an unlimited amount of family
caresses and welcomes.
" Come, Fritz, and assure our grandmother that you are alive^
and that you have, never been dead," said Elsfe. And then her
eyes filling with tears, she added, " What you must have suifered I
If I had not remembered you before you received the tonsure,
I should scarcely have known you now with your dark, long
beard, and your white thin face."
" Yes," observed Atlantis in the deliberate way in which she
usually announces her discoveries, " no doubt that is the reason
why Eva recognised Fritz before Thekla did, although they
were both facing the door, and must have seen him at the
same time. She remembered him before he received the
tonsure."
We all smiled a little at Atlantis' discovery, whereupon she
looked up with a bewildered expression, and said, " Do you
think, then, she did twt recognise him % I did not think of that.
Probably, then, she took him for a thief, like Lottchen ! "
Fritz was deep in conversation with our mother, and was not
heeding us, but Elsfe laughed softly as she patted Atlantis' hand,
and said,
" Conrad Winkelried must have expressed himself very plainly,
sister, before you understood him."
" He did, sister Elsb," replied Atlantis gravely. " But what
has that to do with Eva % "
When I went up to our room, Eva's and mine, I found her
Thekla^s Story. 365
kneeling by her bed. In a few minutes she rose, and clasping '
me in her arms, she said
" God is very good, Thekla. I have believed that so long,
but never half enough until to-night."
I saw that she had been weeping, but the old calm had come
back to her face, only with a little more sunshine on it
Then, as if she feared to be forgetting others in her own
happiness, she took my hand and said
'' Dear Thekla, God is leading us all through all the dark days
to the morning. We must never distrust Him any more ! "
And without saying another word we retired to rest In the
morning when I woke Eva was sitting beside me with a lamp
on the table, and the large Latin Bible open before her. I
watched her face for some time. It looked so piu-e, and good,
and happy, with that expression on it which always helped me
to understand the meaning of the words, " child of God," " little
children," as Dr. Melancthon says our Lord called his disciples
just before he left them. There was so much of the unclouded
trustfulness of the ^^ child ^' in it, and yet so much of the peace
and depth which are of God,
After I had been looking at her a while she closed the Bible
and began to alter a dress of mine which she had promised to
prepare for Christmas. As she was sewing, she hummed softly,
as she was accustomed, same strains of old church music. At
length I said
" Eva, how old were you when Fritz became a monk ? "
"Sixteen," she said softly; "he went away just after the
plague."
" Then you have been separated twelve long years," I said.
" God, then, sometimes exercises patience a long while."
" It does not seem long now," she said ; " we both believed
we were separated by God, and separated for ever on earth."
" Poor Eva," I said ; " and this was the sorrow which helped
to make you so good."
" I did not know it had been so great a sorrow, Thekla," she
said with a quivering voice, " imtil last night"
" Then you had loved each other all that time," I said, half
to myself.
366 Chronicles of the Scfwnherg-Cotta Family.
" I suppose so," she said in a low voice. " But I never knew
till yesterday how much."
After a short silence she began again, with a smile.
" Thekla, he thinks me unchanged during all those years ;
me, the matron of the novices I But, oh, how he is changed !
\Vliat a life-time of suffering on his face I How they must have
made him suffer ! "
" God gives it to you as your life-work to restore and help
him," I said. " O Eva, it must be the best woman's lot in the
world to bind up for the dearest on earth the wounds which
men have inflicted. It must be joy unutterable to receive back
from God's own hands a love you have both so dearly proved
you were ready to sacrifice for him."
" Your mother thinks so too," she said. " She said last night
the vows which would bind us together would be holier than
any ever uttered by saint or hermit."
" Did our mother say that ? " I asked.
" Yes," replied Eva. " And she said she was sure Dr. Luther
would think so also."
XXVL
December 31, isaa.
E are betrothed. Solemnly in the presence of our family
and friends Eva has promised to be my wife ; and in
a few weeks we are to be married. Our home, (at all
events, at first) is to be in the Thuringian forest, in the parson-
age belonging to Ulrich von Gersdorf s castle. The old priest
is too aged to do anything. Chriemhild has set her heart on
having us to reform the peasantry, and they all believe the quiet
and the pure air of the forest will restore my health, which has
been rather shattered by all I have gone through during these
last months, although not as much as they think. I feel strong
enough for anything already. What I have lost during all those
years in being separated from her ! How poor and one-sided
my life has been ! How strong the rest her presence gives me,
makes me to do whatever work God may give me !
Amazing blasphemy on God to assert that the order in which
he has founded human life is disorder, that the love which the
Son of God compares to the relation between himself and his
Church sullies or lowers the heart.
Have these years then been lost ] Have I wandered away
wilful and deluded from the lot of blessing God had appointed
me, since that terrible time of the plague, at Eisenach ? Have
' all these been wasted years 1 Has all the suffering been finiit-
less, unnecessary pain ? And, after all, do I return with precious
time lost and strength diminished just to the point I might have
reached so long ago 1
For Eva I am certain this is not so ; every step of her way,
the loving Hand has led her. Did- not the convent through her.
become a home or a way to the Eternal Home to many ? But
368 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
for mel No, for me also the years have brought more than
they have taken away ! Those who are to help the perplexed
and toiling men of their time, must first go down into the con-
flicts of their time. Is it not this which makes even Martin
Luther the teacher of our nation ? Is it not this which qualifies
weak and sinful men to be preachers of the gospel instead ot
angels from heaven]
The holy angels sang on their heavenly heights the glad
tidings of great joy, but the shepherds, the fishermen, and the
publican spoke it in the homes of men! The angel who
liberated the apostles from prison said, as if spontaneously, from
the fulness of his heart, " Go speak to the people the words oj
this life,"* But the trembling lips of Peter who had denied, and
Thomas who had doubted, and John who had misunderstood,
were to speak the life-giving words to men, denying, doubting,
misconceiving men, to tell what they knew, and how the Saviour
could forgive.
The voice that had been arrested in cowardly curses by the
look of divine pardoning love, had a tone in it the Archangel
Michael's could never have !
And when the Pharisees, hardest of all, were to be reached,
God took a Pharisee of the Pharisees, a blasphemer, a perse-
cutor, one who could say, " I might also have confidence in the
flesh," " I persecuted the Church of God."
Was David's secret contest in vain, when slaying the lion and
the bear, to defend those few sheep in the wilderness, he proved
the weapons with which he slew Goliath and rescued the hosts
of Israeli Were Martin Luther's years in the convent of Erfurt
lost ] Or have they not been the school-days of his life, the
armoury where his weapons were forged, the gymnasium in
which his eye and hand were trained for the battle-fieldl
He has seen the monasteries from within ; he has felt the
monastic life from within. He can say of all these external rules,
" I have proved them, and found them powerless to sanctify the
heart." It is this which gives the irresistible power to his speak-
ing and writing. It is this which by God's grace enables him
to translate the Epistles pf Paul the Pharisee and the Apostle as
he has done. The truths had been translated by the Holy
Fritz* s Story, 369
Spirit into the language of his experience, and graven on his
heart long before ; so that in rendering the Greek into German
he also testified of things he had seen, and the Bible from his
pen reads as if it had been originally written in German, for the
German people.
To me also in my measure these years have not been time
lost There are many truths that one only learns in their ful-
ness by proving the bitter bondage of the errors they contradict
Perhaps also we shall help each other and others around us
better for having been thus trained apart. I used to dream of
the joy of leading her into life. But now God gives her back
to me enriched with all those years of separate experience, not
as the Eva of childhood, when I saw her last, but ripened to
perfect womanhood ; not merely to reflect my thoughts, but to
blend the fulness of her life with mine.
24
XXVII.
kbit's 5t0rs.
WiTTEMBBRG, January isaj.
OW little idea I had how the thought of Fritz was inter-
woven with all my life ! He says he knew only too
well how the thought of me was bound up with every
hope and affection of his !
But he contended against it long. He said that conflict was
far more agonizing than all he suffered in the prison since. For
many years he thought it sin to think of me. I never thought
it sin to think of him. I was sure it was not, whatever my con-
fessor might say. Because I had always thanked God more than
for anything else in the world, for all he had been to me, and
had taught me, and I felt so sure what I could thank God for
could not be wrong.
But now it is dufy to love him best Of that I am quite sure.
And certainly it is not difficult. My only fear is that he will be
disappointed in me when he learns just what I am, day by day,
with all the halo of distance gone. And yet I am not really
afraid. Love weaves better glories than the mists of distance.
And we do not expect miracles from each other, or that life is
to be a Paradise. Only the unutterable comfort of being side
by side in every conflict, trial, joy, and supporting each other!
If I can say " only " of that ! For I do believe our help will be
mutual. Far weaker and less wise as I am than he is, with a
range of thought and experience so much narrower, and a force
of purpose so much feebler, I feel I have a kind of strength
which may in some way, at some times even help Friti. And
it is this which makes me see the good of these separated years,
in which otherwise I might have lost so much. With him the-
whole world seems so much larger and higher to me, and yet
Eva's Story. 371
during these years, I do feel God has taught me something, and
it is a happiness to have a little more to bring him than I could
have had in my early girlhood.
It was for my sake, then, he made that vow of leaving us for
ever!
And Aunt Cotta is so happy. On that evening when he
returned, and we three were left alone, she said, after a few
minutes' silence
" Children, let us all kneel down, and thank God that he has
given me the desire of my heart."
And afterwards she told us what she had always wished and
planned for Fritz and me, and how she had thought his aban-
doning of the world a judgment for her sins; but how she was
persuaded now that the curse borne for us was something in-
finitely more than anything she could have endured, and that it
had been all borne, and nailed to the bitter cross, and rent and
blotted out for ever. And now, she said, she felt as if the last
shred of evil were gone, and her life were beginning again in us
^to be blessed and a blessing beyond her utmost dreams.
Fritz does not like to speak much of what he suffered in the
prison of that Dominican convent, and least of all to n^e;
because, although I repeat to myself, " It is over over for ever 1 "
^whenever I think of his having been on the dreadful rack, it
all seems present again.
He was on the point of escaping the very night they came and
led him in for examination in the torture-chamber. And after '
that, they carried him back to prison, and seem to have left him
to die there. For two days they sent him no food; but then
the young monk who had first spoken to him, and induced him
to come to the convent, managed to steal to him almost every
day with food and water, and loving words of sympathy, until
his strength revived a littie, and they escaped together through
the opening he had dug in the wall before the examination.
But their escape was soon discovered, and they had to hide in
the caves and recesses of the forest for many weeks before they
could strike across the country and find their way to Wittem-
beig at last.
But it is over now. And yet not over. He who suffered will
372 Chronicles of tJu SchSnberg-Cotta Family.
never forget the suffering faithfully borne for him. And the
prison at the Dominican convent will be a fountain of strength
for his preaching among the peasants in the Thuringian Forest
He will be able to say, " God can sustain in all trials. He will
not suffer you to be tempted above that you are able to bear.
/ knew U, for J have proved it," And I think that will help him
better to translate the Bible to the hearts of the poor, than even
the Greek and Hebrew he learned at Rome and Ttibingea
XXVIII.
(list's ^lorg,
ILL our little world is in such a tumult of thankfulness
and joy at present, that I think I am the only sober
person left in it
The dear mother hovers around her two lost ones with quiet
murmurs of content, like a dove around her nest, and is as
absorbed as if she were marrying her first daughter, or were a
bride herself, instead of being the established and honoured
grandmother that she is. Chriemhild and I might find it
difficult not to be envious, if we had not our own private con-
solations at home.
Eva and Fritz are certainly far more reasonable, and instead
of regarding the whole world as centering in them, like our deax
mother, appear to consider themselves made to serve the whole
world, which is more Christian-like, but must also have itsdimits.
I cannot but feel it a great blessing for them that they have
Chriemhild and Ulrich, and more especially Gottfried and me,
to look after their temporal aifairs.
For instance, house linen. Eva, of course, has not a piece ;
and as to her bridal attire, I believe she would be content to be
married in a nun's robe, or in the peasant's dress she escaped
from Nimptschen in. However, I have stores which, as Gretchen
is not likely to require them just yet, will, no doubt, answer the
purpose. Gretchen is not more than eight, but I always think
it well to be beforehand ; and my maidens had already a stock
of linen enough to stock several chests for her, which, under the
circumstances, seems quite a special providence.
Gottfried insists upon choosing her wedding dress. And my
mother believes her own ancestral jewelled head-dress with the
374 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
pearls (which once in our poverty we nearly sold to a merchant
at Eisenach) has been especially preserved for Eva.
It is well that Atlantis, who is to be married on the same
day, is the meekest and most unselfish of brides, and that her
marriage outfit is already all but aiTanged.
Chriemhild and Ulrich have persuaded the old knight to re-
build the parsonage; and she writes what a delight it is to
watch it rising among the cottages in the village, and think of
the fountain of blessing that house will be to all.
Our grandmother insists on working with her dear, feeble
hands, on Eva's wedding stores, and has ransacked her scanty
remnants of former splendour, and brought out many a quaint
old jewel from the ancient Schonberg treasures.
Christopher is secretly preparing them a library of all Dr.
Luther's and Dr. Melancthon's books, beautifiilly bound, and I
do not know how many learned works besides.
And the melancholy has all passed from Fritz's face, or only
remains as the depth of a river to bring out the sparkle of its
ripples.
The strain seems gone from Eva's heart and his. They both
seem for the first time all they were meant to be.
Just now, however, another event is almost equally filling
our grandmother's heart
A few days since, Christopher brought in two foreigners to
introduce to us. When she saw them, her work dropped from
her hands, and half rising to meet them, she said some words
in a language strange to all of us.
The countenance of the strangers brightened as she spoke,
and they replied in the same language.
After a few minutes' conversation, our grandmother turned to
us, and said,
" They are Bohemians, they are Hussites. They know my
husband's name. The truth he died for is still living in my
country."
The rush of old associations was too much for her. Her
lips quivered, the tears fell slowly over her cheeks, and she
could not say another word.
The strangers consented to remain under my father's roof for
Eisi's Story, 375
the night, and told us the errand which brought them to Wittem-
berg.
PYom generation to generation, since John Huss was martyred,
they said, the truth he taught had been preserved in Bohemia,
always at the risk, and often at the cost of life. Sometimes it
had perplexed them much that nowhere in the world beside
could they hear of those who believed the same truth. Could
it be possible that the truth of God was banished to the moun-
tain fastnesses ? Like Elijah of old, they felt disposed to cry
in their wilderness, " I, only I, am left."
" But they could not have been right to think thus," said my
mother, who never liked the old religion to be too much re-
proached. " God has always had his own who have loved him, in
the darkest days. From how many convent cells have pious
hearts looked up to him. It requires great teaching of the Holy
Spirit and many battles to make a Luther ; but, I think, it re-
quires only to touch the hem of Chrisfs garment to make a
Christian.
" Yes," said Gottfried, opening our beloved commentary on
the Galatians, " what Dr. Luther said is true indeed, * Some there
were in the olden time whom God called by the text of the
gospel ar.d by baptism. These walked in simplicity and hum-
bleness of heart, thinking the monks and friars, and such only
as were anointed by the bishops, to be religious and holy, and
themselves to be profane and secular, and not worthy to be
compared to them. Wherefore, they feeling in themselves no
good works to set against the wrath and judgment of God, did
fly to the death and passion of Christ, and were saved in this
simplicity.* "
" No doubt it was so," said the Bohemian deputies. " But
all this was hidden from the eye of man. Twice our fathers
sent secret messengers through the length and breadth of Chris-
tendom to see if they could find any that did understand, that
did seek after God, and everywhere they found carelessness,
superstition, darkness, but no response."
"Ah," said my mother, " that is a search only the eye of God
can make. Yet, doubtless, the days were dark."
" They came back without having met with any response,"
376 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
continued the strangers, " and again our fathers had to toil and
suffer on alone. And now the sounds of life have reached us
in our mountain solitudes from all parts of the world ; and we
have come to Wittemberg to hear the voice which awoke them
first, and to claim brotherhood with the evangelical Christians
here. Dr. Luther has welcomed us, and we return to our
mountains to tell our people that the morning has dawned on
the world at last"
The evening passed in happy intercourse, and before we
separated, Christopher brought his lute, and we all sang to-
gether the hymn of John Huss, which Dr. Luther has published
among his own :
'* Jesus Christus nostra salus,"
and afterwards Luther's own glorious hymn in German:
" Nun freut euch lieben Christen gemein."
Dear Christian people, all rejoice,
Each soul with joy upspringing;
Pour forth one song with heart and voice,
With love and gladne singing.
Give thanks to God, our Lord above
Thanks for his miracle of love ;
Dearly he hath redeemed us !
The devil's captive bound I lay,
Lay in death's chains forlorn ;
My sins dbtressed me night and day
The sin within me bom ;
I could not do the thing I would,
In tdl my life was nothing good.
Sin had possessed me wholly.
My good MTorks could no comfort shed,
Worthless must they be rated ;
My free will to all good was dead,
And God's just judgments hated.
Me of all hope my sins bereft :
Nothing but death to me was left,
And death was hell's dark portal.
Then God saw with deep pity moved
My grief that knew no measure ;
Pitying he saw, and freely loved,
To save me was his pleasure.
The Father's heart to me was stirred.
He saved me with no sovereign word.
His very best it cost him.
He spoke to his beloved Son
With infinite compassion,
" Go hence, my heart's most precious crown.
Be to the lost salvation ;
Death, his relentless tyrant slay.
And bear him from his sins away,
With thee to live for ever."
Willing the Son took that behest.
Bom of a maiden mother.
To his own earth he came a guest.
And made himself my brother.
All secretly he went his way.
Veiled in my mortal flesh he lay,
And thus the foe he vanquished.
He said to me, "Cling close to me.
Thy sorrows now are ending ;
Freely I gave myself for thee.
Thy life with mine defending
For I am thine, and thou art mine.
And where I am there thou shalt shine,
The foe shall never reach us.
Tme, he will shed my heart's life blood.
And torture me to death ;
All this I suffer for thy good.
This hold with earnest faith.
Death dieth through my life divine ;
I sinless bear those sins of thine.
And so shalt thou be rescued.
Elsk's Story.
m
I rise again to heaven from hence,
High to my Father soaring,
Thy Master there to be, and thence,
My Spirit on thee pouring;
In every grief to comfort thee.
And teach thee- more and more of me,
Into all truth still guiding.
What I have done and taught on earth.
Do thou, and teach, none dreading;
That so God's kingdom may go forth,
And his high praise be spreading;
And gfuard thee from the words of men.
Lest the great joy be lost again ;
Thus my last charge I leave thee."
Afterwards, at our mother's especial desire, Eva a*nd Fritz
sang a Latin resurrection hymn from the olden time.*
The renewal of the world
Countless new joys bringeth forth :
Christ arising, all things rise
Rise with him from earth.
All the creatures feel their Lord
Feel his festal light outpotu*cd.
Fire springs up with motion free,
Breezes wake up soft and warm ;
Water flows abundantly.
Earth remaineth firm.
All things light now sky-ward soar.
Solid things are rooted more :
AU things are made new.
Ocean' waves, grown tranquil, lie
Smiling 'neath the heavens serene ;
All the air breathes light and fresh ;
Our valley groweth green.
Verdure clothes the arid plain,
Frozen waters gush again
At the touch of spring.
For the frost of death is melted
The prince of this world lieth low ;
And his empire strong among us.
All is broken now.
Grasping Him in whom alone
He could nothing claim or own*
His domain he lost.
Paradise is now regained.
Life has vanquished death ;
And the joys he long had lost,
Man recovereth.
The cherubim at God's own word
Turn aside the flaming sword ;
The long-lost blessing is restored.
The closed way opened free, f
The next morning the strangers left us ; but all the day our
grandmother sat silent and tranquil, with her hands clasped, in
an inactivity very unusual with her. In the evening, when we
had assembled again as we all do now every day in the old
house ishe said quietly, "Children, sing to me the *Nunc
Dimittis.' God has fulfilled every desire of my heart ; and, if
he willed it, I should like now to depart in peace to my dead.
For I know they live unto him."
Afterwards, we fell into conversation about the past. It was
the eve of the wedding-day of Eva and Fritz, and Atlantis and
Conrad, And we, a family united in one faith, naturally spoke
* Mundi renovatic
Nova parit gaudia,
Resurgente Domino
Conresurgunt omnia ;
The translation only is given above.
* Adam of St. Victor, twelfth century.
Elementa serviunt,
t auctoris sentiunt.
Quanta sint solemnia.
&c. &c. &c.
378 Chronicles of the Schdnberg'Cotta Family, .
together of the various ways in which God had led us to the
one end.
The old days rose up before me, when the ideal of holiness
had towered above my life, grim and stony, like the fortress of
the Wartburg (in which my patroness had lived), above the
streets of Eisenach ; and when even Christ the Lord seemed to
me, as Dr. Luther says, " a law maker giving more strait and
heavy commands than Moses himself" an irrevocable, unap-
proachable Judge, enthroned far up in thfe cold spaces of the
sky j and heaven, like a convent, with very high walls, peopled
by nuns rigid as Aunt Agnes. And then the change which
came over all my heart when I learned, through Dr. Luther's
teaching, that God is love is our Father ; that Christ is the
Saviour, who gave himself for our sins, and loved us better than
life ; that heaven is our Father's house ; that holiness is simply
loving God who is so good, and who has so loved us, and,
loving one another, that the service we have to render is simply
to give thanks and to do good ; ^when, as Dr. Luther said, that
word " our " was written deeply in my heart that for our sins
He died ^for mine, that for all, for us, for me, He gave him-
self.
And then Fritz told us how he had toiled and tormented
himself to reconcile God to him, until he found, through Dr.
Luther's teaching, that our sins have been borne away by the
Lamb of God the sacrifice not of man's gift, but of God's ;
" that in that one person, Jesus Christ, we had forgiveness of
sins and eternal life ;" that God is to us as the father to the
prodigal son entreating x to be reconciled to Him. And he
told us also, how he had longed for a priest, who could know
infallibly all his heart, and secure him from the deceitfulness
and imperfectness of his own confessions, and assure him that,
knowing all his sin to its depths, with all its aggravations, he
yet pronounced him absolved. And at last he had found that
Priest, penetrating to the depths of his heart, tracing every act
to its motive, every motive to its source, and yet pronouncing
him absolved, freely, fully, at once imposing no penance, but
simply desiring a life of thanksgiving in return. "And this
Priest," he added, " is with me always ; I make my confession
Elsi's Story, 379
to him every evening, or oftener, if I need it; and as often as I
confess, He absolves, and bids me be of good courage ^go in
peace, and sin no more. But He is not on earth. He dwells
in the holy of holies, which never more is empty, like the soli-
tary sanctuary of the old temple on all days in the year but one.
He ever liveth to make intercession for us !"
Then we spoke together of the two great facts Dr. Luther had
unveiled to us from the Holy Scriptures, that there is one sac-
rifice of atonement, the spotless Lamb of God, who gave him-
self once for our sins; and that there is but one priestly Medi-
ator, the Son of Man and Son of God; that, in consequence of
this, all Christians are a holy priesthood to offer up spiritual
sacrifices; and the feeblest has his offering, which, through
Jesus Christ, God delights to accept, having first accepted the
sinner himself in the Beloved.
Our mother spoke to us, in a few words, of the dreadful
thoughts she had of God picturing him rather as the lightning
than the light; of the curse which she feared was lowering like
a thunder-cloud over her life, until Dr. Luther began to show
her that the curse has been borne for us by Him who was made
a curse for us, and removed for ever from all who trust in him.
" And then," she said, " the Holy Supper taught me the rest.
He bore for us the cross; he spreads for us the feast We
have, indeed, the cross to bear, but never more the curse; the
cross from man, temptation from the devil, but from God
nothing but blessing."
But Eva said she could not remember the time when she did
not think God good and kind beyond all. There were many
other things in religion which perplexed her; but this had always
seemed clear, that God so loved the world, he gave his Son.
And she had always hoped that all the rest would be clear one
day in the light of that love. The joy which Dr. Luther's
writings had brought her was, she thought, like seeing the stains
cleared away from some beautiful painting, whose beauty she
had known but not fully seen or like having a misunderstand-
ing explained about a dear friend. She had always wondered
about the hard penances to appease One who loved so much,
and the many mediators to approach Him ; and it had been an
380 Chronicles of ttte Schonberg-Cotta Family.
inexpressible delight to find that these were all a mistake, and
that access to God was indeed open ^that the love and the sin,
life and death, ^had met on the cross, and the sin had been
blotted out, and death swallowed up of life.
In such discourse we passed the eve of the wedding-day.
And now the day has vanished like a bright vision ;. our little
gentle loving Atlantis has gone with her husband to their distant
home, the bridal crowns are laid aside, and Eva and Fritz in
their sober every-day dress, but with the crown of unfading joy
in their hearts, have gone together to their lowly work in the
forest, to make one more of those hallowed pastor's homes
which are springing up now in the villages of our land.
But Gretchen's linen-chest is likely to be long before it can
be stored again. We have just received tidings of the escape
of Eva's friends, the nine nuns of Nimptschen, from the con-
vent, at last ! They wrote to Dr. Luther, who interested himself
much in seeking asylums for them. And now Master Leonard
Koppe of Torgau has brought them safely to Wittemberg con-
cealed in his beer waggon. They say one of the nuns in their
haste left her slipper behind. They are all to be received into
various homes, and Gottfried and I are to have the care of
Catherine von Bora, the most determined and courageous, it is
said, of all, from whose cell they effected their escape.
I have been busy preparing the guest-chamber for her, strew-
ing lavender on the linen, and trying to make it home-like for
the young maiden who is banished for Christ's sake from her
old home.
I think it must bring blessings to any home to have such
guests.
ywu 1593.
Our guest, the noble maiden Catherine von Bora, has arrived.
Grave and reserved she seems to be, although Eva spoke of her
as very cheerful, and light as well as firm of heart I feel a
little afraid of her. Her carriage has a kind of majesty about it
which makes me offer her more deference than sympathy. Her
eyes are dark and flashing, and her forehead is high and calm.
This is not so remarkable in me, I having been always easily
appalled by dignified persons; but even Dr. Luther, it seems to
Elsk's Story, 381
me, is somewhat awed by this young maiden. He thinks her
rather haughty and reserved. I am not sure whether it is pride
or a certain maidenly dignity.
I am afraid I have too much of the homely burgher Cotta
nature to be quite at ease with her.
Our grandmother would doubtless have understood her better
than either oiu: gentle mother or I, but the dear feeble form
seems to have been gradually failing since that meeting with
the emissaries of the Bohemian Church. Since the wedding
she has not once left her bed. She seems to live more than
ever in the past, and calls people by the names she knew them
in her early days, speaking of our grandfather as " Franz," and
calling our mother " Greta " instead of " the mother." In the
past she seems to live, and in that glorious present, veiled from
her view by so thin a veil Towards heaven the heart, whose
earthly vision is closing, is as open as ever. I sit beside her
and read the Bible and Dr. Luther^s books, and Gretchen says
to her some of the new German hymns. Dr. Luther's, and his
translation of John Huss's hymns. To-day she made me read
again and again this passage, " Christian faith is not, as some
say, an empty husk in the heart until love shall quicken it; but
if it be true faith, it is a sure trust and confidence in the heart
whereby Christ is apprehended, so that Christ is the object of
faith; yea^ rather even^ in faith Christ himself is f resent. Faith
therefore justifieth because it apprehendeth and possesseth this
treasure, Christ present Wherefore Christ apprehended by
faith, and dwelling in the heart, is the true Christian right-
eousness."
It is strange to sit in the old house, now so quiet, with our
dear blind father downstairs, and only Thekla at home of all the
sisters, and the light in that brave, strong heart of our grand-
mother growing slowly dim; or to hear the ringing sweet childish
voice of Gretchen repeating the hymns of this glorious new time
to the failing heart of the olden time.
Last night, while I watched beside that sick-bed, I thought
much of Dr. Luther alone in the Augustinian monastery,
patiently abiding in the dwelling his teaching has emptied, send-
ing forth thence workers and teachers throughout the world ;
382 Chronicles of the ScfiSnberg-Coita Family,
and as I pondered what he has been to us, to Fritz and Eva in
their lowly hallowed home, to our mother, to our grandipother,
to the Bohemian people, to little Gretchen singing her hymns
to me, to the nine rescued nuns, to Aunt Agnes in the convent,
and Christopher at his busy printing-press, to young and old,
religious and secular ; I wonder what the new time will bring to
that brave, tender, warm heart which has set so many hearts
which were in bondage free, and made life rich to so many who
were poor, yet has left his own life so sohtary still.
XXIX.
Thuringian Forest, yttfy 1523.
is certainly very much happier for Fritz and me to
live in the pastor's house than in the castle ; down
among the homes of men, and the beautiful mysteries
of tins wonderful forest land, instead of towering high above all
on a fortified height. Not of course that I mean the heart may
not be as lowly in the castle as in the cottage; but it seems to
me a richer and more fruitful life to dwell among the people
than to be raised above them. The character of the dwelling
seems to symbolize the nature of the life. And what lot can be
so blessed as ours 1
Linked to all classes that we may serve our Master who came
to minister among all. In education equal to the nobles, or
rather to the patrician families of the great cities, who so far
surpass the country proprietors in culture, in circumstances the
pastor is nearer the peasant, knowing by experience what are
the homely trials of straitened means. Little offices of kindness
can be interchanged between us. Muhme Trudchen finds a
pure pleasure in bringing me a basket of her new-laid eggs as
an acknowledgment of Fritz's visits to her sick boy; and it
makes it all the sweeter to carry food to the family of the old
charcoal-burner in the forest-clearing that our meals for a day
or two have to be a little plainer in consequence. I think gifts
which come from loving contrivance and a little self-denial, must
be more wholesome to receive than the mere overflowings of a
full store. And I am sure they are far sweeter to give. Our
lowly home seems in some sense the father's house of the village;
and it is such homes, such hallowed centres of love and minis-
384 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
try, which God through our Luther is giving back to village after
village in our land.
But, as Fritz says, I must be careful not to build our parsonage
into a pinnacle higher than any castle, just to make a pedestal
for him, which I certainly sometimes detect myself doing. His
gifts seem to me so rich, and his character is, I am sure, so
noble, that it is natural I should picture to myself his vocation
as the highest in the world. That it is the highest, however,
I am secretly convinced; the highest as long as it is the
lowliest
The people begin to be quite at home with us now. There
are no great gates, no moat, no heavy drawbridge between us
and the peasants. Our doors stand open; and timid hands
which could never knock to demand admittance at castle or |
convent gate can venture gently to lift our latch. Mothers
creep to the kitchen with their sick children to ask for herbs,
lotions, or drinks, which I learned to distil in the convent
And then I can ask them to sit down, and we often naturally
begin to speak of Him who healed the sick people with a word,
and took the little children from the mothers' arms to His to
bless them. Sometimes, too, stories of wrong and sorrow come
out to me which no earthly balm can cure, and I can point to
Him who only can heal because He only can forgive.
Then Fritz says he can preach so diflferently from knowing
the heart-cares and burdens of his flock ; and the people seem
to feel so differently when they meet again from the pulpit with
sacred words and histories which they have grown familiar with
in the home.
A few of the girls come to me also to learn sewing or knitting,
and to listen or learn to read Bible stories. Fritz meanwhile
instructs tlie boys in the Scriptures and in sacred music, because
the schoolmaster is growing old and can teach the children little
but a few Latin prayers by rote, and to spell out the German
alphabet
I could not have imagined such ignorance as we have found
here. It seems, Fritz says, as if the first preachers of Chris-
tianity to the Germans had done very much for the heart of the
nation what the first settlers did for its forests, made a clearing
Eva's Story. 385
here and there, built a church, and left the rest to its original
state.
The bears and wolves which prowl about the forest, and
sometimes in winter venture close to the thresholds of our
houses, are no wilder than the wild legends which haunt the
hearts of the peasantSi On Sundays they attire themselves in
their holiday clothes, come to hear mass, bow before the sacred
host, and the crucifix, and image of the Virgin, and return to
continue' during the week their everyday terror-worship of the
spirits of the forest They seem practically to think our Lord
is the God of the church and the village, while the old pagan
sprites retain possession of the forest They appear scarcely
even quite to have decided St Christopher's question, " Which
is the strongesty that I may worship himl"
But, alas, whether at church or in the forest, the worship
they have been taught seems to have been chiefly one of fear.
The Cobolds and various sprites they believe will bewitch their
cows, set fire to their hay-stacks, lead them astray through the
forest, steal their infants fi-om the cradle to replace them by
fairy changelings. Their malignity and wrath they deprecate,
therefore, by leaving them gleanings of com or nuts, by speaking
of them with feigned respect, or by Christian words and prayer,
which they use as spells.
From the Almighty God they fear severer evil. He, they
think, is to sit on the dreadfiil day of wratli on the judgment
throne to demand strict adcount of all their misdeeds. Against
His wrath also they have been taught to use various remedies
which seem to us little better than a kind of spiritual spells ;
paters, aves, penances, confession, indulgences.
To protect them against the forest sprites they have secret
recourse to certain gifted persons, mostly shrivelled, solitary,
weird old women (successors, Fritz says, of the old pagan
prophetesses), who for money perform certain rites of white
magic for them ; or give them written charms to wear, or teach
them magic rhymes to say.
To protect them against God, they used to have recomrse to
the priest, who performed masses for them, laid ghosts, absolved
sins, promised to turn aside the vengeance of offended heaven.
25
386 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
But in both cases they seem to have the melancholy per-
suasion that the ruling power is hostile to them. In both cases,
religion is not so much a worship as a spell; not an approach
to God, but an interposing of something to keep off the weight
of his dreaded presence.
When first we began to understand this, it used to cost me
many t^ars.
" How can it be/' I said one day to Fritz, " that all the world
eems so utterly to misunderstand GodT'
" There is an enemy in the world," he sidd, solemnly, " sowing
lies about God in evexy heart''
'' Yet God is mightier than Satan," I said ; ^' how is it then
that no ray penetrates through the darkness from fruitful seasons,
from the beauty of the spring time, from the abundance of the
harvest, from the joys of home, to show the people that God
is love 1"
" Ah, Eva," he said sadly, " have you forjgotten that not only
is the devil in the world, but sin in the heart ? He lies, indeed,
about God, when he persuades us that God grudges us blessings;
but he tells the truth about ourselves when he reminds us that
we are sinners, under the curse of the good and loving law. The
lie would not stand for an instant if it were not founded on the
truth. It is only by confessing the truth, on which his false-
hood is based, that we can destroy it. We must say to the
peasants, " Your fear is well founded. See dn that cross what
your sin cost ! "
" But the old religion displayed the crucifix," I said.
" Thank God, it did it does 1 " he said. " Bpt, instead of
the crucifix, we have to tell of a cross from which the Crucified
is gone ; of an empty tomb and a risen Saviour ; of the curse
removed ; of God, who gave the Sacrifice, welcoming back the
Sufferer to the throne."
We have not made much change in the outward ceremonies.
Only, instead of the sacrifice of the mass, we have the Feast of
the Holy Supper ; no elevation of the host, no saying of private
masses for the dead; and all the prayers, thanksgivings, and
hymns, in German.
Dr. Luther still retains the Latin in some of the services of
Eva's Story. 387
Wittemberg, on account of its being an university town, that
the youth may be trained in the ancient languages. He said
he would gladly have some of the services in Greek and Hebrew,
in order thereby to make the study of those languages as
common as that of Latin. But here in the forest, among the
ignorant peasants, and the knights, who, for the most part,
forget before old age what little learning they acquired in boy-
hood, Fritz sees no reason whatever for retaining the ancient
language ; and delightful it is to watch the faces of the people
when he reads the Bible or Luther's hymns, now that some of
them begin to understand that the divine service is something
in which their hearts and minds are to join, instead of a kind
of magic external rite to be performed for them.
It is a great delight also to us to visit Chriemhild and Ulrich
von Gersdorf at the castle. The old knight and Dame Her-
mentnid were very reserved with us at first ; but the knight has
always been most courteous to me, and Dame Hermentrud,
now that she is convinced we have no intention of trenching on
her state, receives uS very kindly. ,
Between us, moreover, there is another tender bond, since
she has allowed herself to speak of her sister Beatrice, to me
known only as the subdued and faded aged nun ; to Dame
Hermentrud, and the aged retainers and villagers, remembered
in her bright, but early blighted, girlhood.
Again and again I have to tell her sister the story of her
gradual awakening from uncomplaining hopelessness to a lowly
and heavenly rest in Christ; and of her meek and peaceful
death.
" Great sacrifices," she said once, " have to be made to the
honour of a noble lineage, Frau Pastorin. I also have had my
sorrows ; " and she opened a drawer of a cabinet, and showed
me the miniature portraits of a nobleman and his young boy,
her husband and son, both in armour. "These both were
slain in a feud with the family to which Beatrice's betrothed
belonged," she said bitterly. " And should our lines ever be
mingled in one 1 "
" But are these feuds never to die outi" I said.
"Yes," she replied sternly, leading me to a window, from
388 Chronicles of the Schanberg-Cotta Family.
which we looked on a ruined castle in the distance. " Thai
feud has died out The family is extinct ! "
" The Lord Christ tells us to forgive our enemies," I said
quietly.
" Undoubtedly," she replied ; " but the Von Bemsteins were
usurpers of our rights, robbers and murderers. Such wrongs
must be avenged, or society would fall to pieces."
Towards the peasants Dame Hermentrud has very condes-
cending and kindly feelings, and frequently gives us food and
clothing for them, although she still doubts the wisdom of
teaching them to read.
" Every one should be kept in his place," she says.
And as yet I do not think she can form any idea of heaven,
except as of a well organized community, in which the spirits
of the nobles preside loftily on the heights, while the spirits of
the peasants keep meekly to the valleys; the primary distinction
between earth and heaven being, that in heaven all will know
how to keep in their places.
And no doubt in one sense she is right But how would she
like the order in which places in heaven are assigned ?
" T7te first shafl be last, and the last first:'
" He that is chief among you, let him be as he that doth served'
Among the peasants sometimes, on the other hand, Fritz is
startled by the bitterness of feeling which betrays itself against
the lords; how the wrongs of generations are treasured up, and
the name of Luther is chiefly revered from a vague idea that he,
the peasant's son, will set the peasants free.
Ah, when will God's order be established in the world, when
Bach, instead of struggling upwards in selfish ambition, and
pressing others down in mean pride looking up to envy, and
looking down to scorn shall look up to honour and look down
to help ! when all shall "by love serve one another]"
September x^i-^
We have now a guest of whom I do not dare to speak to
Dame Hermentrud. Indeed, the whole history Fritz and I
will never tell to any here.
A few days since a worn, grey-haired old man came to our
Evds Story, 389
house, whom Fritz welcomed as an old friend. It was Priest
Ruprecht Haller, from Franconia. Fritz had told me something
of his history, so that I knew what he meant, when in a quiver-
ing voice he said, abruptly, taking Fritz aside,
" Bertha is very ill perhaps dying. I must never see her
any more. She will not suffer it, I know. Can you go and
speak a few words of comfort to her ]"
Fritz expressed his readiness to do anything in his power,
and it was agreed that Priest Ruprecht was to stay with us that
night, and that they were to start together on the morrow for
the farm where Bertha was at service,, which lay not many miles
off through the forest.
. But in the night I had a plan, which I determined to set
going before I mentioned it to Fritz, because he will often con-
sent to a thing which is once begun^ which he would think quite
impracticable if it is ox^y proposed; that is, especially as regards
anything in which I am involved. Accordingly, the next morning
I rose very early and went to our neighbour. Farmer Herder, to
ask him to lend us his old grey pony for the day, to bring home
an invalid. He consented, and before we had finished breakfast
the pony was at the door.
"What is this?" said Fritz.
" It is Farmer Herder's pony to take me to the farm where
Bertha lives, and to bring her back," I said.
" Impossible, my love ! " said Fritz.
" But you see it is already all arranged, and begun to be
done," I said; "I am dressed, and the room is all ready to
receive her."
Priest Ruprecht rose from the table, and moved towards me,
exclaiming fervently,
" God bless you !" Then seeming to fear that he had said
what he had no right to say, he added, " God bless you for the
thought. But it is too much !" and he left the room.
"What would you do, Eval" Fritz said, looking in much
perplexity at me.
" Welcome Bertha as a sister," I said, " and nurse her until
she is well."
" But how can I suffer you to be under one roof?" he said.
390 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
I could not help my eyes filling with teats.
" The Lord Jesus suflfered such to anoint his feet," I said,
" and she, you told me, loves Him, has given up all dearest to
her to keep his words. Let us blot out the past as he does,
and let her begin life again from our home, if God wills it so."
Fritz made no further objection. And through the dewy
forest paths we went, we three; and with us, I think we all felt,
went Another, invisible, the Good Shepherd of the wandering
sheep.
Never did the green glades and forest flowers and solemn
pines seem to me more fresh and beautiful, and more like a
holy cathedral than that morning.
After a little meek resistance Bertha came back with Fritz
and me. Her sickness seemed to me to be more the decline
of one for whom life's hopes and work are over, than any
positive disease. And with care, the grey pony brought . her
safely home.
Never did our dear home seem to welcome us so brightly as
when we led her back to it, for whom it was to be a sanctuary
of rest, and refuge from bitter tongues.
There was a little room over the porch which we had set
apart as the guest-chamber ; and very sweet it was to me that
Bertha should be its first inmate; very sweet to Fritz and me
that our home should be what our Lord's heart is, a refuge for
the outcast, the penitent, the solitary, and the sorrowful.
Such a look of rest came over her poor, worn face, when at
last she was laid on her little bed !
" I think I shall get well soon," she said the next morning,
"and then you will let me stay and be your servant; when I
am strong I can work really hard, and there is something in you
both which makes me feel this like home."
"We will try," I said, "to find out what God would have
us do."
She does improve daily. Yesterday she asked for some spin-
ning, or other work to do, and it seems to cheer her wonderfully.
To-day she has been sitting in our dwelling-room with her spin-
ning-wheel. I introduced her to the villagers who come in as
a friend who has been ill. They do not know her history.
Eva's Story. 391
yanuary 2524.
It is all accomplished now. The little guest-chamber over
the porch is empty again, and Bertha is gone.
As she was recovering Fritz received a letter from Priest
Ruprecht, which he read in silence, and then laid aside until
we were alone on one of our expeditions to the old charcoal-
burner's in the forest.
" Haller wants to see Bertha once more," he said, dubiously.
"And why not, Fritz 1" I said; "why should not the old
wrong as far as possible be repaired, and those who have given
each other up at God's commandment, be given back to each
other by his commandment]''
" I have thought so often, my love," he said, " but I did not
know what you would think."
So after some little difficulty and delay. Bertha and Priest
Ruprecht Haller were married veiy quietly in our village church,
and went forth to a distant village in Pomerania, by the Baltic
Sea, from which Dr. Luther had received a request to send them
a minister of the gospel.
It went to my heart to see the two go forth together down
the village street, those two whose youth inhuman laws and
hunaan weakness had so blighted. There was a reverence about
his tenderness to her, and a wistful lowliness in hers for him,
which said, "All that thou hast lost for me, as far as may be I
will make up to thee in the years that remain !"
But as we watched her pale face ttnd feeble steps, and his
bent, though still vigorous form, Fritz took my hands as we
turned back into the house, and said,
" It is well But it can hardly be for long I"
And I could not answer him for tears.
XXX.
WXTTBMBBRG, A^HSi X594.
[HE slow lingering months of decline are over. Yes-
terday our grandmother died. As I looked for the
, last time on the face that had smiled on me from child-
hood, the hands which rendered so many little loving services
to me, none of which can evermore be returned to her, what a
sacred tenderness is thrown over all recollection of her, how
each little act of thoughtful consideration and self-denial rushes
back on the heart, what love I can see glowing through the
anxious care which sometimes made her a little querulous,
especially with my father, although never lately.
Can life ever be quite the same again 1 Can we ever forget
to bear tenderly with little infirmities such as those of hers,
which seem so blameless now, or to prize with a thankfulness
which would flood with sunshine our little cares, the love which
must one day be silent to us as she is nowl
Her death seems to age us all into another generation ! She
lived from the middle of the old world into the full morning of
the new; and a whole age of the past seiems to. die with her.
But after seeing those Bohemian deputies and knowing that
Fritz and Eva were married, she ceased to wish to live. She
had lived, she said, through two mornings of time on earth, and
now she longed for the daybreak of heaven.
But yesterday morning, one of us ! and now one of the heavenly
host I Yesterday we knew every tliought of her heart, every
detail of her life, and now she is removed into a sphere of which
we know less than of the daily life of the most ancient of the
patriarchs. As Dr. Luther says, an infant on its mother's breast
\
Els^s Story, 393
'Has as much understanding of the life before it, as we of the life
"before us after death. " Yet," he siaith also, " since God hath
made his world of earth and sky so fair, how much fairer that
imperishable world beyond I "
All seems to me clear and bright after the resurrection ; but
now ? where is that spirit now, so familiar to us and so dear, and
now so utterly separated 1
Dr. Luther said, " A Christian should say, I know that it is
thus I shall journey hence ; when my soul goes forth, charge is
given to God's kings and high princes, who are the dear angels,
to receive me and convoy me safely home. The Holy Scrip-
tures, he writes, teach nothing of purgatory, but tell us that the
spirits of the just enjoy the sweetest and most delightful peace
and rest. How they live there, indeed, we know not, or what
the place is* where they dwell. But this we know assuredly, they
are in no grief or pain, but rest in the grace of God. As in this
life they were wont to fall softly asleep in the guard and keep-
ing of God and the dear angels, without fear of harm, although
the devils might prowl aroimd them ; so after this life do they
xepose in the hand of God."
" To {iepart and be with Christ is far better^
" Tihday in Paradise with, me^
" Absent from the body^ at home with the Lord'*
' Everything for our peace and comfort concerning those who
are gone depends on what those words ^^with me" were to them
and are to us. Where and how they live, indeed, we know not ;
with Whom we know. The more then, O our Saviour and
theirs 1 we know of Thee, the more we know of them. With
Thee, indeed, the waiting-time before the resurrection can be no
cold drear ante-chamber of the palace. Where Thou art, must
be light, love, and home.
Precious as Dr. Luthefs own words are, what are they at a
time like this, compared with the word of God he has unveiled
to us ?
My mother, however, is greatly cheered by these words of
his, "Our Lord and Saviour. grant us joyfully to see each other
again hereafter. For our faith is sure, and we doubt not that
we shall see each other again with Christ in a little while; since
394 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
the departure from this life to be with Christ is less in God's
sight, than if I go from you to Mansfeld, or you took leave of
me to go from Wittemberg to Mansfeld. This is assuredly true.
A brief hour of sleep and all will be changed."
WiTTBMBKRG, SepitmbtT 1534.
During this month we have been able often to give thanks
that the beloved feeble fbrm is at rest The times seem very
troublous. Dr. Luther thinks most seriously of them. Rum-
ours have reached us for some time of an uneasy feeling among
the peasantry. Fritz wrote about it from the Thuringian Forest
The peasants, as our good Elector said lately, have suffered
many wrongs from their lords; and Fritz says they had formed
the wildest hopes of better days from Dr. Luther and his words.
They thought the days of freedom had come. And fitter and
hard it is for them to learn that the gospel brings freedom now
as of old by giving strength to suffer, instead of by suddenly re-
dressing wrong. The fanatics, moreover, have been among
them. The Zwickau prophets and Thomas Miinzer (silenced
last year at Wittemberg by Luthefs return from the Wartburg),
have promised them all they actually expected from Luther.
Once more, tiiey say, God is sending inspired men on earth, to
introduce a new order of things, no more to teach the saints how
to bow, suffer, and be patient; but how to fight and avenge
themselves of their adversaries, and to reign.
October Z524.
Now, alas, the peasants are in open revolt, rushing through
the land by tens of thousands. The insurrection began in the
Black Forest, and now it sweeps throughout the land, gathering
strength as it advances, and bearing everything before it by the
mere force of numbers and movement City after city yields
and admits them, and swears to their Twelve Articles, which in
themselves they say are not so bad, if only they were enforced
by better means. Castle after castle is assailed and falls. Ul-
rich writes in burning indignation at the cruel deaths they have
inflicted on noble men and women, and on their pillaging the
convents. Fritz, on the other hand, writes ^entreating us not to
Elsk's Story. 395
forget the long catalogue of legalized wrongs which had led to
this moment of fierce and lawless vengeance.
Dr. Luther, although sympathizing with the peasants by birth,
and by virtue of his own quick and generous indignation at in-
justice, whilst with a prophet's plainness he blames the nobles for ^
their exactions and tyranny, yet sternly demands the suppression
of the revolt with the sword. He says this is essential, if it were only
to free the honest and well-meaning peasantry from the tyranny
of the ambitious and turbulent men who compel them to join
their banner on pain of death. With a heart that bleeds at every
severity, he counsels the severest measures as the most merciful.
More than once he and others of the Wittemberg doctors have
succeeded in quieting and dispersing riotous bands of the peas-
ants assembled by tens of thousands, with a few calm and ear-
nest words. But bitter, indeed, are these times to him. The
peasants whom he pities, and because he pities condemns, call
out that he has betrayed them, and threaten his life. The pre-
lates and princes of the old religion declare all this disorder and
pillage are only the natural consequences of his false doctrine.
But between them both he goes steadfastly forward, speaking
faithful words to alL More and more, however, as terrible
rumours reach us of torture, and murder, and wild pillage, he
seems to become convinced that mercy and vigour are on the
same side. And now he, whose journey through Germany not
three years since was a triumphal procession, has to ride secretly
from place to place on his errands of peace-making, in danger
of being put to death by the people if he were discovered !
My heart aches for these peasants. These are not the Phari-
sees who were " not blind^^ but understood only too well what
they rejected. They are the " multitudes," the common people,
who as of old heard the voice of love and truth gladly; for whom
dying he pleaded, " They know not what they do."
A^rU 1525.
The tide has turned. The army of the empire, under Truch-
sess, is out Philip of Hesse, after quieting his own dominions,
is come to Saxony to suppress the revolt here. Our own gentle
and merciful Elector, who so reluctantly drew the sword, is, they
say, dying. The world is full of change !
39^ Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotia Family.
Meantime, in our little Wittembeig world, changes are in pro-
spect It seems probable that Dr. Luther, after settling the
other eight nuns, and endeavouring also to find a home for
Catherine von Bora, will espouse her himself. A few months
ince he tried to persuade her to many Glatz, pastor of Orla-
mund, but she refiised. And now it seems certain that the soli-
tary Augustinian convent will become a home, and that she will
make it so.
Gottfried and I cannot but rejoice. In this world of tumult
and unrest, it seems so needful that that warm, earnest heart
should have one place where it can rest, one heart that will un-
derstand and be true to him if all else should become estranged,
as so many have. And this, we trust, Catherine von Bora
will be to him.
Reserved, and with an innate dignity, which will b^fit the wife
of him whom God has called in so many ways to be the leader,
of the hearts of men, she has a spirit which will prevent her
sinking into the mere reflection of that resolute character, and a
cheerfulness and womanly tact which will, we hope, sustain him
through many a depressing hour, such as those who wear earth's
crowns of any kind must know.
December 1525.
This year has, indeed, been a year of changes. The peasant
revolt is crushed. At Frankenhausen, the last great victory was
gained. Thomas Miinzer was slain, and his undisciplined hosts
fled in hopeless confusion. The revolt is crushed, alas ! Gott-
fried says, as men too generally crush their enemies when once in
their power, exceeding the crime in the punishment, and la)dng
up a store of future revolt and vengeance for future generations .
The good and wise Elector Friedrich died just before the vic-
tory. It is well, perhaps, that he did not live to see the terrible
vengeance that has been inflicted, the roadsteads lined with gib-
bets, torture returned by torture, insult by cruel mocking. The
poor deluded people, especially the peasantry, wept for the good
Elector, and said, " Ah, God, have mercy on us ! We have lost
our father ! " He used to speak kindly to their children in the
fields, and was always ready to listen to a tale of wrong. He
died humbly as a Christian; he was buried royally as a prince.
Elsk's Story, 397
Shortly before his death, his chaplain, Spalatin, came to see
him. The Elector gave him his hand, and said, " You do well
to come to me. We are commanded to visit the sick."
Neither brother nor any near relative was with him when he
died. The services of all brave men were needed in those
stormy days. But he was not forsaken. To the childless, soli-
tary suflferer his faithful servants were like a family.
^' Oh, dear children," he said, " I suffer greatly!"
Then Joachim Sack, one of his household, a Silesian, said,
" Most gracious master, if God will, you will soon be better."
Shortly after the d)ring prince said,
" Dear children, I am ill indeed."
And Sack answered,
" Gracious lord, the Almighty God sends you all this with a
Father's love, and with the best will to you."
Then the prince repeatedly softly, in Latin, the words of Job,
" The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be
the name of the Lord."
And once more he said,
" Dear children, I am very ill."
And the faithful Joachim comforted him again, " My gra-
cious Master, the Almighty God, sends it all to your electoral
highness from the greatest love."
The prince clasped his hands, and said,
" For that I can trust my good GodT and added, " Help me,
help me, O my God."
And after receiving the holy communion in both kinds, he
called his servants around him, and said,
" Dear children, I entreat you, that in whatever I have done
you wrong, byword or deed, you will forgive me for God's sake,
and pray others to do the same. For we princes do much
wrong often to poor people that should not be."
As he spoke thus, all that were in the room could not restrain
their tears, and seeing that, he said,
" Dear children, weep not for me. It will not be long with
me now. But think of me, and pray to God for me."
Spalatin had copied some verses of the Bible for him, which
he put. on his spectacles to read for himself. He thought much
398 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
of Luther, whom, much as he had befriended him, be had never
spoken to, and sent for him. But it was in vain. Luther was
on the Hartz mountains, endeavouring to quell the peasants*
revolt That interview is deferred to the world where all earthly
distinctions are forgotten, but where the least Christian services
are remembered."
So, " a child of peace," as one said, " he departed, and rests
in peace, through the high and oiily merits of the only Son of
God," in whom, in his last testament, he confessed was " all his
hope."
It was a solemn day for Wittenberg when they laid him in
his grave in the Electoral Church, which he had once so richly
provided with relics. His body lying beneath it is the most
sacred relic it enshrines for us now.
Knights and burghers met the coffin at the city gate ; eight
noblemen carried it, and a long train of mourners passed
through the silent streets. Many chanted around the tomb the
old Latin hymns, " In media vitae," and " Si bona suscipimur,"
and also the German, "From deepest need I cry to Thee,"
and
" In Fried uud Freud fahr ich dahin."
" I journey hence in peace and joy."
The money which would in former times have purchased masses
for his soul, was given to the poor. And Dr. Luther preached
a sermon on that promise, " Those who sleep in Jesus, God will
bring with him," which makes it needless, indeed, to pray for
the repose of those who thus sleep.
Gretchen asked me in the evening what the hymn meant,
4
I joiuney hence in peace and joy."
I told her it was the soul of the prince that thus journeyed
hence.
" The procession was so dark and sad," she said, " the words
did not seem to suit."
" That procession was going to the grave," said Thekla, who
was with us. " There was another procession, which we could
not see, going to heaven. The holy angels, clothed in radiant
white, were carrying the happy spirit to heaven, and singing.
Else's Story. 399
as they went, anthems such as that, while we were weeping
here."
" I should like to see that procession of the dear angels, Aunl
Thekla," said Gretchen. " Mother says the good Elector had
no little children to love him, and no one to call him any ten-
derer name than * Your electoral highness* when he died. But
on the other side of the grave he will not be lonely, will he ?
The holy angels will have tender names for Him there, will
they not 1"
" The Lord Jesus willy at all events," I said. " He calleth his
own sheep by name."
And Gretchen was comforted for the Elector.
Not long after that day of mourning came a day of rejoicing
to our household, and to all the friendly circle at Wittemberg.
Quietly, in our house, on June the 23d, Dr. Luther and Cathe-
rine von Bora were married.
A few days afterwards the wedding feast was held on the
home-bringing of the bride to the Augustinian cloister, which,
together with " twelve brewings of beer yearly," the good Elec-
tor John Frederic has given Luther as a wedding present Brave
old John Luther and his wife, and Luther's pious mother came to
the feast from Mansfeld, and a day of much festivity it was to all.
And now for six months, what Luther calls " that great thing,
the union and communion between husband and wife," hath
hallowed the old convent into a home, whilst the prayer of
faith and the presence of Him whom faith sees, have consecrated
the home into a sanctuary of love and peace.
Many precious things hath Dr. Luther said of marriage. God,
he says, has set the type of marriage before us throughout all
creation. Each creature seeks its perfection through being blent
with another. The very heaven and earth picture it to us, for
does not the sky embrace the green earth as its bride 1 " Pre-
cious, excellent, glorious," he says, " is that word of the Holy
Ghost, * the heart of the husband doth safely trust in her.* "
He says also, that so does he honour the married state, that
before he thought of marrying his Catherine, he had resolved,
if he should be laid suddenly on his d3dng bed, to be espoused
400 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
before he died, and ^o give two silver goblets to the maiden as
bis wedding and dying gift And lately he counselled one who
was to be married, ^' Dear friend, do thou as I did, when I
would take my Kathe. I prayed to our Lord God with all my
heart. A good wife is a companion of life, and her husband's
solace and joy, and when a pious man and wife love each other
truly, the devil has little power to hurt them.
" All men," he said, " believe and understand that marriage
is marriage, a hand a hand, riches are riches ; but to believe
that marriage is of God, and ordered and appointed by God ;
that the hand is made by God, that wealth and all we have and
are is given by God, and is to be used as his work to his praise,
that is not so commonly believed. And a good wife," he said,
" should be loved and honoured, firstly, because she is God's
gift and present : secondly, because God has endowed women
with noble and great virtues, which, when they are modest,
faithful, and believing, far overbalance their little failings and
infirmities."
WiTTEMBERG, December xs^S'
Another year all but closed a year of mingled storm and
sunshine! The sorrow we dreaded for our poor Thekla is
come at last too surely. Bertrand de Crdquy is dead ! He
died in a prison alone, for conscience' sake, but at peace in
God. A stranger from Flanders brought her a few words of
farewell in his handwriting, and afterwards saw him dead, so
that she cannot doubt. She seems to move about like one
walking in a dream, performing every common act of life as
before, but with the soul asleep. We are afraid what will be
the end of it. God help her ! She is now gone for the Christ-
mas to Eva and Fritz.
Sad divisions have sprung up among the evangelical Christians.
Dr Luther is very angry at some doctrines of Itarlstadt and the
Swiss brethren concerning the holy sacraments, and says they
will be wise above what is written. We grieve at these things,
especially as our Atlantis has married a Swiss, and Dr. Luther
will not acknowledge them as brethren. Our poor Atlantis is
much perplexed, and writes that she is sure her husband
meaneth not to undervalue the Holy Supper, and that in very
Elsies Story. ^oxt
truth they find their Saviour pre?ent there as we do. But Dr.
Luther is very stem about it He fears disorders and wild
opinions will be brought in again, such as led to the slaughter
of the peasants' war. Yet -he himself is sorely distressed about
it, and saith often that the times are so evil the end of the world
is surely drawing nigh.
In the midst of all this perplexity, we who love him rejoice
that he has that quiet home in the Augustei, where "Lord
Kathe," as he calls her, and her little son Hanschen reign, and
where the dear, holy angels, as Luther says, watch over the
cradle of the child.
It was a festival to^ all Wittemberg when little Hans Luther
was bom.
Luther's house is like the sacred hearth of Wittemberg and
of all the land. There in the winter evenings he welcomes his
friends to the cheerful room with the large window, and some-
times they sing good songs or holy hymns in parts, accompanied
by the lute and harp, music at which Dr. Luther is siu-e King
David would be amazed and delighted, could he rise from his
grave, " since there can have been none so fine in his days."
" The devil," he says, " always flies from music, especially fi-om
sacred music, because he is a despairing spirit, and cannot bear
joy and gladness."^
And in the summer days he sits under the pear tree in his
garden, while Kathe works beside him ; or he plants seeds and
makes a fountain; or he talks to her and his fiiends about the
wonders of beauty God has set in the humblest flowers, and the
picture of the resurrection he gives us in every delicate twig that
in spring bursts from the dry brown stems of winter.
More and more we see what a good wife God has given him
in Catherine von Bora, with her cheerfiil, firm, and active spirit,
and her devoted affection for him. Already she has the manage-
ment of all the finance of the household, a very necessary ar-
rangement, if the house of Luther is not to go to min; for Dr.
Luther would give everything, even to his clothes and furniture,
to any one in distress, and he will not receive any payment
either for his books or for teaching the students.
She is a companion for him, moreover, and not a mere
26
403 Chronicles of the SchUnherg-Cotta Family.
listener, which he likes,- however mudi he may laugh at lier
eloquence, " in her own department surpassing Cicero*S|" and
sarcastically relate how when first they were married, not know-
ing what to say, but wishing to ''make conversation," she used
to say, as she sat at her work beside him, '' Herr Doctor, is not i
the lord high chamberlain in Prussia the brother of the mar-
grave ?" hoping ' that such high discourse would not be too
trifling for himl He says, indeed, that if he were, ta seek an
obedient wife, he would carve one for himself out of stone.
But the belief among us is, that there are few happier homes
than Dr. Luthei^s; and if at any time Catherine finds him
oppressed with a sadness too deep for her. ministry to reach, she
quietly creeps out and calls Justus Jonas, or some other friend,
to come and cheer the doctor, ^ften, also, she reminds him of
the letters he has to write; and he likes to have her sitting by
him while he writes, which is a proof sufficient that she can be
silent when necessary, whatever jests the Doctor may make
about her " long sermons, which she certainly never would have
made, if, like other preachers, she had taken the precaution of
beginning with the Lord's Prayer! *'
The Christian married life, as he says, '' is a humble and a
holy life," and well, indeed, is it for our German Reformation
that its earthly centre is neither a throne, nor a hermitage, but
a lowly Christian home.
Parsokagb op Gbrsdorf, yuiu X597.
I am sta}ang with Eva while Fritz is absent making a journey
of inspection of the schools throughout Saxohy at Dr. Luther's
desire, with Dr. Philip Melancthon, and many other learned
men.
Dr. Luther has set his heart on improving the education of
the children, and is anxious to have some of the revenues of the
suppressed convents appropriated to this purpose before all are
quietly absorbed by the nobles and princes for their own uses.
It is a renewal of youth to me, in my sober middle age, to
be here along with Eva, and yet not alone. For the terror of
my youth is actually under our roof with me. Aunt Agnes is
an inmate of Fritz's home I During the pillaging of the con-
vents and dispersing of the nuns, which took plaice in the dread
Elsk's Stary. 403
fUl peas^^nts' war, she was driven from Nimptschen, and after
spending a few weeks with our mother at Wittemberg, has finally
taken refuge with Eva and Eritz.
But Eva's little twin children, Heinz and Agnes, will asso-
ciate a very different picture 'with the name of Aunt Agnes fi:om
the rigid lifeless face and voice which used to haunt my dreams
of a religious life, and make me dread the heaven, of whose in-
habitants, I was told. Aunt Agnes was a type.
Perhaps the white hair softens the high but furrowed brow;
yet surely there was not that kindly gleam in the grave eyes I
remember, or that tender tone in Uie voice. Is it an echo of
the voices of the little ones she so dearly loves, and a reflection
of the sunshine in their eyesi No; better than that even, I
know, because Eva told me. It is the smile and the music of
a heart made as that of a little child through believing in the
Saviour. It is the peace of the Pharisee, who has won the pub-
lican's blessing by meekly taking the publican's place.
I confess, however, I do not think Aunt Agnes's presence im-
proves the discipline of Eva's household. She is exceedingly
slow to detect any traces of original sin in Eva's children, while
to me, on the contrary, the wonder is that any creature so good
and exemplary as Eva should have children so much like other
people's even mine. One would have thought that her infants
would have been a kind of half angels, taking naturally to all
good things, and never doing wrong except by mistake in a gentle
and moderate way. Whereas, I must say, I hear frequent little
wails of rebellion from Eva's nursery, especially at seasons of
ablution, much as from mine; and I do not think even our
Fritz ever showed more decided pleasure inmischief, or more
determined self-will, than Eva's little rosy Heinz.
One morning after a rather prolonged little battle between
Heinz and his mother about some case of oppression of little
Agnes, I suggested to Aunt Agnes
" Only to think that Eva, if she had kept to her vocation,
might have attained to the full ideal of the Theologia Teutsch,
have become a St Elizabeth, or indeed far better?"
Aunt Agnes looked up quickly
'. " And you mean to say she is not better now! You imagine
404 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Fofnify,
that spinning meditations all day long is more Christian work
for a woman than training these little ones for God, and help-
ing them to fight their first battles with the devil!"
"Perhaps not, Aunt Agnes," I said, " but then, you see, I know
nothing of the inside of a convent/*
" I do,'* said Aunt Agnes emphatically, " and also of the inside
of a nun's heart. And 1 know what wretched work we make of
it when we try to take our education out of our Heavenly
Fathei's hands into our own. Do you think," she continued,
" Eva did not learn more in the long nights when she watched
over her sick child than she could have learned in a thousand
self imposed vigils before any shrine? And to-night, when she
kneels with Heinz, as she will, and says with him, * Pray God
forgive little Heinz for being a naughty boy to-day,* and lays
him on his pillow, and as she watches him fall asleep, asks
God to bless and train the wilful little one, and then asks for
pardon herself, do you not think she learns more of what ' for-
giveness* means and 'Our Father' than from a year's study of
the Theologia Teutsch?"
I smiled and said, " Dear Aunt Agnes, if Fritz wants to hear
Eva's praises well sung, I will tell him to suggest to you whether
it might not have been a higher vocation for her to remain a
nun ! "
" Ah I child," said Aunt Agnes, with a little mingling of the
old sternness and the new tenderness in her voice^ " if you had
leamdd what I have from those lips, and in this house, you
could not, even in jest, bear to hear a syllable of reflection on
either."
Indeed, even Aunt Agnes cannot honour this dear home
more than 1 do. Open to every peasant who has a sorrow or
a wrong to tell, it is also linked with the castle; and linked to
both, not by any class privileges, but because here peasants and
nobles alike are welcomed as men and women, and as Christian
brothers and sisters.
Now and then we pay a visit to the castle, where our noble
sister Chriemhild is enthroned. But my tastes have always been
burgher like, and the parsonage suits me much better than the
castle. Besides, I cannot help feeling some little awe of Dame
Elsi's Story, 40$
Her mentrud, especially when my two boys axe with me, they
being apt to indulge in a burgher freedom in tteir demeanour.
The furniture and arrangements of the castle are a generation
behind our own at Wittemberg, and I cannot at all make the
boys comprehend the majesty of the Gersdorf ancestry, nor the
necessary inferiority of people who live in streets to those who
live in isolated rock fortresses. So that I am reduced to the
Bible law of " honour to grey hairs " to enforce due respect to
Dame Hermentrud.
Little Fritz wants to know what the Gersdorf ancestry are re-
nowned for. "Was it for learning 1" he asked.
I thought not, as it is only this generation who have learned
to read, and the old knight even is suspected of having strong
reasons for preferring listening to Ulrich's reading to using a
book for himself.
V " Was it then for courage?"
*^ Certainly, the Gersdorfs had always been brave."
"With whom, then, had they fought 1"
* At the time of the Crusades, I believed, against the infidels.'*
"And since then]"
I did not feel sure, but looking at the ruined castle of Bern-
Stein and the neighbouring height, I was afraid it was against
their neighbours.
And so, after much cross questioning, the distinctions of the
Gersdorf family seemed to be chiefly reduced to their having
been Gersdorfs, and having lived at Gersdorf for a great many
hundred years.
Then Fritz desired to know in what way his cousins, th^
Gersdorfs of this generation, are to distinguish themselves?
This question also was a perplexity to me, as I know it often is
to Chriemhild. They must not on any account be merchants ;
and now that in the Evangelical Church the great abbeys are
suppressed, and some of the bishoprics are to be secularized, it
is hardly deemed consistent with Gersdorf dignity that they
should become clergymen. The eldest will have the castle.'
One of them may study civil law. For the others nothing seems
open but the idling dependent life of pages and military atten-
dants in the castles of some of the greater nobles.
4o6 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
If the past is the inheritance of the knights, it seems to me
the future is far more likely to be the possession of the active
burgher families. I cannot but feel thankful for the lot which
opens to our boys honourable spheres of action in the great
cities of the empire. There seems no room for expansion in the
life of those petty nobles. While the patrician families of the
cities are sailing on the broad current of the times, encouraging
art, advancing learning, themselves sharing all the thought and
progress of the time, these knightly families in the country re-
main isolated in their grim castles ruling over a few peasants,
and fettered to a narrow local circle, while the great current of
the age sweeps by them.
Gottfried says, narrow and ill-used privileges always end ill
ruining those who bigotedly cling to them. The exclusiveness
which begins by shutting others out, commonly ends in shutting
the exclusive in. The lordly fortress becomes the narrow prison.
All these thoughts passed through my mind as I left the rush-
strewn floor of the hall where Dame Hermentrud had received
me and my boys, with a lofty condescension, while, in the course
of the interview, I had heard her secretly remarking to Chriem-
hild how unlike the cousins were; "It was quite singular how
entirely the Gersdorf children were unlike the Cottas ! "
But it was not until I entered Eva's lowly home, that I de-
tected the bitter root of wounded pride from which my deep
social speculations sprang. I had been avenging myself on the
Schonberg-Gersdorf past by means of the Cotta-Reichenbach
future. Yes ; Fritz and Eva's lowly home is nobler than Chriem-
hild*s, and richer than ours; richer and nobler just in as far as
it is more lowly and more Christian !
And I learned my lesson after this manner.
" Dame Hermentrud is very proud," I said to Eva, as I re-
turned from the castle and sat down beside her in the porch,
where she was sewing; "and I really cannot see on what
ground."
Eva made no reply, but a little amused smile played about
her mouth, which for the moment rather aggravated me.
" Do you mean to say she is not proud, Eva]" I continued
controversially.
Elsi's Story. . 407
^'I did not mean to say that any one was not proud,^ siaici
Eva.
. . t' Did you mean then to imply that she has anything to be
proud of 1"
"There are all the ghosts of all the Gersdorfs,'* said Eva;
"and there is the high ancestral privilege of wearing velvet and
pearls, which you and I dare not assume."
" Surely," said I, " the privilege of possessing Lucas Cranach's
pictures, and Albrecht-Diirer's carvings, is better than that"
"Perhaps it is," said Eva demurely; " perhaps wealth^is as
finn ground for pride to build on as ancestral rank. Those
who have neither, like Fritz and I, may be the- most candid
judges."
I laughed, and felt a cloud pass from my heart Eva had
dared to call the sprite which vexed me by his right name, and
like any other g^ome or cobold, he vanished instantly. /
Thank God our Eva is Cousin Eva again, instead of Sister
Ave; that her single heart is here among us to flash the light
on our consciences just by shining, instead of being hidden
under a sdntly canopy in the shrine of some distant convent '
yufyt 1527. :
Fritz is at home. It was delightful to see what a festival his
return was, not only in the home, but in the village-^the chil-?
dren running to the doors to receive a smile, the mothers stop-r
ping in their work to welcome him. The day after his return
was Sunday. As usual, the children of the village were as-
sembled at five o'clock in the morning to church. Among them
were our boys, and Chriemhild's, and Eva's twins, Heinz and
Agnd^ ^rosy, meny children of the forest as they are. All,
however, looked as good and sweet as if they had been childten
of Eden, as they tripped that morning after each other over the
village green, their bright little forms passing in and out of the
shadow of the great beech-tree which stands opposite the church.
The little company all stood together in the church before
the altar, while Fritz stood on the step and taught them. At
first they sang a hymn, the elder boys in Latin, and then all
together in German; and then Fritz heard them say Luther's
4o8 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
Catechism. How^ sweetly the lisping, childish voices answered
his deep, manly voice ; like the rustling of the countless summer
leaves outside, or the fall of the countless tiny cascades of the
village stream in the still summer morning.
. " My dear child, what art thoul** he said.
Answer from the score of little hushed, yet ringing voices
" I am a Christian."
" How dost thou know that]"
'^ Because I am baptized, and believe on my dear Lord Jesus
Christ"
'' Wliat is it needful that a Christian should know for his sal-
vation?"
Answer " The Catechism."
And afterwards, in the part concering the Christian faith, the
sweet voices repeated the Creed in German.
" I believe in God the Father Almighty."
And Fritz's voice asked gently
" What does that mean?"
Answer-^" I believe that God has created me and all crea-
tures; has given me body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my limbs,
reason, and all my senses, and still preserves them to me; and
that he has also given me my clothes and my shoes, and what-
soever I eat or drink; that richly and daily he provides me with
all needful nourishment for body and life, and guards me from
all danger and evil ; and all this out of pure fatherly divine
goodness and mercy, without any merit or deserving of mine.
And for all this I am bound to thank and praise him, and also
to serve and obey him. This is certainly true."
. Again
" I believe in Jesus Christ," &c.
: What does that mean t
" I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father
from eternity, and also true man, bom of the Virgin Maiy, is
my Lord, who has redeemed me, a lost and condemned human
creature, has purchased and won me from all sins, from death
and from the power of the devil, not with silver and gold, but
with his own holy precious blood, and with his innocent suffer-
ing and dying, that I may be his own, and live in his kingdom
Els^s Story, 409
under him, and serve him in endless righteousness, innocence,
and blessedness, even as he is risen from the dead, and lives
and reigns for ever. This is certainly true.
And again,
I believe in the Holy Ghost."
"What does that mean?"
" I believe that not by my own reason or power can I believe
on Jesus Christ my Lord, pr come to him ; but the Holy Ghost
has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with his gifts,
sanctified and kept me in the right faith, as he calls all Christian
people on earth, gathers, enlightens, sanctifies them, and through
Jesus keeps them in the right and only faith, among which
Christian people he daily richly forgives all sins, to me and all
believers, and at the last day will awaken me and all the dead,
and to me and all behevers in Christ will give eternal life. This
is certainly true."
And again, on the I-.ord*s Prayer, the children's voices
began,
" Our Father who art in heaven."
" What does that mean 1"
** God will in this way sweetly persuade us to believe that he
is our true Father, and that we are his true children; that cheer-
fully and with all confidence we may ask of him as dear children
ask of their dear fathers."
And at the end,
" What does Amen mean ?"
" That I should be sure such prayers are acqeptable to the
Father in heaven, and granted by him, for he himself has taught
us thus to pray, and promised that he will hear us. Amen,
amen that means, yes, yes, that shall be done^
And when it was asked,
" Who receives the holy sacrament worthily ?"
Softly came the answer,
" He is truly and rightly prepared who has faith in these
words, * Given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins.*
But he who doubts or disbelieves these words, is unworthy and
unprepared; for the words, ^ for you,' need simple beHeving
^hearts."
410 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
As I listened to the simple living words, I could not wonder
that Dr. Luther often repeats them to himself, or rather, as he
says, ^to Godj^zs an antidote to the fieiy darts of the wicked
one.
And so the childish voices died away in the morning stillness
of the church, and the shadow of the bell-tower feU silently
across the grassy mounds or wooden crosses beneath which
rest the village dead; and as we went home, the long shadow
of the beech-tree fell on the dewy village green.
Then, before eleven o'clock, the church bell began to ring,
and the peasants came trooping from the different clearings of
the forest One by one we watched the various groups in their
bright holiday dresses, issuing out of the depths of dark green
shade, among them, doubtless, many a branch of the Luther
family who live in this neighbourhood. Afterwards each door
in the village poured out its contributions, and soon the little
church was full, the men and women seated on the opposite
sides of the church, and the aged gathered around the pulpit
Fritz's text was Eva's motto, " God so loved the ivorld}^ Simply,
with illustrations such as they could understand, he spoke to
them of God's infinite love, and the infinite cost at which ' he
had redeemed us, and of the love and trust and obedience we
owe him, and, according to Dr. Luthei^s advice he did not speak
too long, but '' called black black, and white white, keeping to
one simple subject, so that the people may go away and say,
* The sermon was about this' " For, as I heard Dr. Luther
say, " We must not speak to the common people of high
difficult things, or with mysterious words. To the church come
little children, maid-servants, old men and women, to whom
high doctrine teaches nothing. For, if they say about it, * Ah,
he said excellent things, he has made a fine sermon I' And
one asks, * What about, then ]' they reply, ' I know not* Let
us remember what pains our Lord Christ took to preach simply.
From the vineyard, from the sheepfold, from trees, he drew his
illustrations, all that the people might feel and understand."
That sermon of Fritz's left a deep rest in my heart He
spoke not of justification, and redemption merely, but of the
living God redeeming and justifying us. Greater service can no
Eki's Story. 41 1
one render us than to recall to us what God has done for us,
and how he really and tenderly cares for usi.
In the afternoon, the children were gathered for a little while
in the school-room, and questioned about the sermon. At
sunset again we all met for a short service in the church, and
sang evening hymns in German, after which the pastor pro-
nounced the benediction, and the little community scattered
once more to their various homes.
With the quiet sunshine, and the light shed on the home
by Fritz's return, to-day seemed to me almost like a day in
Paradise.
Thank God again and again for Dr. Luther, and especially
for these two great benefits given back to us through him
first, that he has unsealed the fountain of God's word fi-om the
icy fetters of the dead language, and sent it flowing through the
land, everywhere wakening winter into spring; and secondly,
that he has vindicated the sanctity of marriage and the home
life it constitutes ; unsealing the grave-stones of the convent
gates, and sending forth the religion entranced and buried there
to bless the world in a thousand lowly, holy, Christian homes
such as this.
XXXI.
WiTTKMBERG, September xsvj-
HAVE said it from my heart at last ! yes, I am sure I
say it from my heart, and if with a broken heart, God
will not despise that.
" Our Father which art in. heaven, thy willy not mine be done'*
I thought I could bear an)rthing better than suspense ; but I
had no idea what a blank of despair the certainty would bring.
Then came dreadful rebellious thoughts, that God should let
him die alone 1 and then recurred to my heart all they had said
to me about not making idols, and I began to fear I had never
really loved or worshipped God at all, but only Bertrand ; and
then came a long time of blank and darkness into which no
light of human or divine love or voices of comfort seemed in
the least to penetrate. I thought God would never receive me
until I could say, " Thy will be done," and this I could not say.
The first words I remember that seemed to convey any mean-
ing at all to me were some of Dr. Luther's in a sermon. He
said it was easy to believe in God's pardoning love in times of
peace, but in times of temptation when the devil assailed the
soul with all his fiery darts, he himself found it hard, indeed, to
hold to the truth he knew so well, that Christ was not a severe
judge, or a hard exactor, but a forgiving Saviour, indeed love
itself, pure unalterable love.
Then I began to understand it was the devil, the malignant
exacting evil spirit that I had been listening to in the darkness
of my heart, that it was he who had been persuading me I must
not dare to go to my Father, before I could bring him a perfectly
submissive heart
Thekla*s Story. 415
And then I remembered the words, "Come unto me, ye
that are weary and heavy laden ;" and, alone in my room, I fell
on my knees, and cried, " O blessed Saviour, O heavenly
Father, I am not submissive; but I am weary, weary and
heavy-laden; and I come to thee. Wilt thou take^ me as I
am, and teach me in time to say, *Thy will be done !'" And
he received me, and in time he has taught me. At least I can
say so to-night To-morrow, perhaps, the old rebellion will
come back. But if it does, I will go again to our heavenly
Father and say again, " Not submissive yet, only heavy-laden !
Father, take my hand, and say, begin again !"
Because amidst all these happy homes I felt so unnecessary
to any one, and so unutterably lonely. I longed for the old
convents to bury myself in, away from all joyous sounds. But,
thank God, they were closed for me ; and I do not wish for
them now.
Dr. Luther began to help me by showing me how the devil
had been keeping me from God.
And now God has helped me by sending through my heart
again a glow of thankfulness and love.
The plague has been at Wittemberg again. Dr. Luther's
house has' been turned into an hospital; for dear as are his
Kathe and his little Hans to him, he would not flee from the
danger, any more than years ago, when he was a monk in the
convent which is now his home.
And what a blessing his strong and faithful words have been
among us, from the pulpit, by the dying bed, or in the house of
mourning.
But it is through my precious mother chiefly that God has
spoken to my heart, and made me feel he does indeed sustain,
and care, and listen. She was so nearly gone. And now she is
recovering. They say the danger is over. And never more will
I say in my heart, " To me only God gives no home," or fear to
let my heart entwine too closely round those God has lefl: me
to love, because of the anguish when that clasp is severed. I
will take the joy and the love with all its possibilities of sorrow,
and trust in God for both. ,
Perhaps, also, God may have some little work of love for me
414 Chronicles of the Schanberg-Cotta Family,
to do, some especial service even for me, to make me needed
in the world as long'as I am here. For to-day Justus Jonas,
who has lost his little son in the plague, came to me and said,
f' Thekla, come and see my wife. Sie says you can comfort
her, for you can comprehend sottow."
Of course I went I do not think I said anything to comfort
her. I could do little else but weep with her, as I looked on
the little, innocent, placid; lifeless face. But when I left her
she said I had done her good, and begged me to come again.
So, perhaps, God has some blessed services for me to^ender
him, which I could only have learned as he has taught me; and
when we meet hereafter, Bertrand and I, and hear th^t dear
divine and human voice that has led us through the world, we
together shall be glad of all this bitter pain that we endured aiid
felt, and give thanks for it for ever and for ever 1
XXXII.
WiTTBKBSRG, May Z59a
^S99F all the happy homes God has given to Germany through
KKS J Dr. Luther, I think none are happier than his own.
llSaB ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^ Augustine convent echo now with
the pattering feet and ringing voices of little children, and every
night the angels watch over the sanctuary of a home. The
birthdays of Dr. Luther's children are festivals to us all, and
more especially the birthday of little Hans the firstborn 'was so.
; Yet death also has been in that bright home. Their second
child, a babe, Elizabeth, was early taken from her parents. Dr.
Luther grieved over her much. A little while after her death
he wrote to his friend Hausmann :
" Grace and peace. My Johannulus thanks thee, best Nicho-
las, for the rattle, in which he glories and rejoices wondrously.
" I have begun to write something about ^he Turkish war,
.which will not, I hope, be useless.
" My little daughter is dead ; my darling little Elizabeth. It
is strange how sick and wounded she has left my heart, almost
as tender as a woman's, such pity moves me for that little one.
I never could have believed before what is the tenderness of a
father's heart for his children. Do thou pray to the Lord for
me, in Whom fare-thee-well."
Catherine von Bora is honoured and beloved by all. Some
indeed complain of her being too economical ; but what would
become of Dr. Luther and his family if she were as reckless in
giving as he is ] He has been known even to take advantage of her
illness to bestow his plate on some needy student He never will
, receive a kreuzer from the students he teaches ; and he refuses to
' 4 1 6 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
sell his writings, which provokes both Gottfried and me, noble as
it is of him, because the great profits they bring would surely be
better spent by Dr. Luther than by the printers who get them now.
Our belief is, that were it not for Mistress Luther, the whole
household would have long since been reduced to beggary, and
Dr. Luther, who does not scruple to beg of the Elector or of any
wealthy person for the needs of others (although never for his
own), knows well how precarious such a livelihood is.
His wife does not, however, always succeed in restraining his
propensities to give ever3rthing away. Not long ago, in defiance
of her remonstrating looks, in her presence he bestowed on a
student who came to him asking money to help him home firom
the university, a silver goblet which had been presented to him,
saying that he had no need to drink out of silver.
We all feel the tender care with which she watches over his
health, a gift to the whole land. His strength has never quite
recovered the strain on it during those years of conflict and
penance in the monastery at Erfurt. And it is often strained to
the utmost now. All the monks and nuns who have renounced
their idle maintenance in convents for conscience' sake; all
congregations that desire an evangelical pastor ; all people of all
kinds in trouble of mind, body, or estate, turn to Dr. Luther for
aid or counsel, as to the warmest heart and the clearest head
in the land. His correspondence is incessant, embracing and
answering every variety of perplexity, from counselling evange-
lical princes how best to reform their states, to directions to
some humble Christian woman how to find peace for her con-
science in Christ And besides the countless applications to
him for advice, his large heart seems always at leisure to listen
to the appeal of the persecuted far and near, or to the cry of the
bereaved and sorrowful.
Where shall we find the spring of all this activity but in the
Bible^ of which he says, " There are few trees in that garden
which I have not shaken for fruit ; " and in prayer^ of which he,
the busiest man in Christendom, (as if he were a contemplative
hermit) says, " Prayer is the Christian's business (Das Gebet est
des Christen Handwerk)."
Yes, it is the leisure he makes for prayer which gives him
Elsi's Story. 417,
leisure for all besides. It is the hours passed with the iife-giv-
ing word which make sermons, and correspondence, and teach- ^
ing of all kinds to him simply the outpouring of a full heart
Yet such a life wears out too quickly. More than once has
Mistress Luther been in sore anxiety about hiih during the four
years they have been married.
Once, in 1527, when little Han$ was the baby, and he believed .
he should soon have to leave her a yridow with the fatherless
little one, he said rather sadly he had nothing to leave her but
the silver tankards which had been presented to him.
" Dear doctor," she replied, " if it be God*s will, then I also
choose that you be with him rather than me. It is not so much
I and my child even that need you as the multitude of pious
Christians. Trouble yourself not about me."
What her courageous hopefulness and her tender watchfulness
have been to him, h$ showed when he said,
" I am too apt to expect more from my Kathe, and from Me-
lancthon, than X do from Christ my Lord. And yet I well know
that neither they nor any one on earth has suffered, or can suffer,
what he hath suffered for me."
But although incessant work may weigh upon his body, there
are severer trials which weigh upon his spirit. The heart so
quick to every touch of aflfection or pleasure cannot but be sen-
sitive to injustice or disappointment. It cannot therefore be
easy for him to bear that at one time it should be perilous for
him to travel on account of the indignation of the nobles, whose
relatives he has rescued from nunneries ; and at another time
equally unsafe because of the indignation of the peasants, for
whom, though he boldly and openly denounced their mad insur-
rection, he pleads fervently with nobles and princes.
But bitterer than all other things to him, are the divisions
among evangelical Christians. Every truth he believes flashes
on his mind with such overwhelming conviction, that it seems
to him nothing but incomprehensible wilfulness for any one else
not to see it. Every conviction he holds, he holds with the
f;rasp of one ready to die for it not only with the tenacity of
possession, but of a soldier to whom its defence has been in-
trusted. He would not, indeed, have any put to death or im
27
4 1 8 Chronicles of tlie Scfionberg- Cotta Family,
prisoned for their misbelief. But hold out the hand of fellow-
ship to those who betray any part of his Lord's trust, he thinks,
^how dare he % Are a few peaceable days to be purchased at
the sacrifice of eternal truth 1
And so the division has taken place between us and the Swiss.
My Gretchen perplexed me the other day, when we were
coming from the city church, where Dr. Luther had been preach-
ing against the Anabaptists and the Swiss, (whom he will persist
in classing together,) by saying,
" Mother, is not Uncle Winkelried a Swiss, and is he not a
good mani"
" Of course Uncle Conrad is a good man, Gretchen," rejoined
our Fritz, who had just returned from a visit to Atlantis and
Conrad. " How can you ask such questions 1"
'^ But he is a Swiss, and Dr. I^uther said we must take care
not to be like the Swiss, because they say wicked things about
the holy sacraments."
" I am sure Uncle Conrad does not say wicked things," re-
torted Fritz, vehemently. '^ I think he is almost the best man
I ever saw. Mother," he continued, "why does Dr. Luther
speak so of the Swiss]"
" You see, Fritz," I said, " Dr. Luther never stayed six months
among them as you did ; and so he has never seen how good
they are at home."
" Then," rejoined Fritz, sturdily, " if Dr. Luther has not seen
them, I do not think he should speak so of them."
I was driven to have recourse to maternal authority to close
the discussion, reminding Fritz that he was a little boy, and could
not pretend to judge of good and great men like Dr. Luther.
But, indeed, I could not help half agreeing with the child. It
was impossible to make him understand how Dr. Luther has
fought his way inch by inch to the freedom in which we now
stand at ease ; how he detests the Zwinglian doctrines, not so
much for themselves, as for what he thinks they imply. How
will it be possible to make our children, who enter on tiie peace-
ful inheritance so dearly won, understand the rough, soldierly
vehemence, of the warrior race, who re-conquered that inheri-
tance for them ]
I
Elsi's Story. 419
As Dr. Luther says, " It is not a little thing to change the
whole religion and doctrine of the Papacy. How hard it has
been to me, they will see in that Day. Now no one believes it 1"
God appointed David to fight the wars of Israel, and Solomon
to build the temple. Dr. Luther has had to do both. What
wonder if the hand of the soldier can sometimes be traced in
the work of peace !
Yet, why should I perplex myself about this? Soon, too
soon, death will come, and consecrate the virtues of our genera-
tion to our children, and throw a softening veil over our mistakes.
Even now that Dr. Luther is absent from us at Coburg, in
the castle there, how precious his letters are; and how doubly
sacred the words he preached to us last Sunday from the pulpit,
now that to-morrow we are not to hear him.
fie is placed in the castle at Coburg, in order to be nearer
the Diet at Augsburg, so as to aid Dr. Melancthon, who is there,
with his counsel. The Elector dare not trust the royal heart
and straightforward spirit of our Luther among the prudent
diplomatists at the Diet
Mistress Luther is having a portrait taken of their little Mag-
dalen, who is now a year old, and especially dear to the Doctor,
to send to him in the fortress.
Letters have arrived from and about Dr. Luther. His father
is dead the brave, persevering, self-denying, truthful old man,
who had stamped so much of his own character on his son.
"It is meet I should mourn such a parent," Luther writes, "who
through the sweat of his brow had nurtured and educated me,
and made me what I am." He felt it keenly, especially since
he could not be with his father at the last; although he gives
thanks that he lived in these times of light, and departed strong
in the faith of Christ Dr. Luthefs secretary writes, however,
that the portrait of his little Magdalen comforts him much.
He has hung it on the wall opposite to the place where he sits
at meals.
Dr. Luther is now the eldest of his race. He stands in the
foremost rank of the generations slowly advancing to confront
death.
420 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Coita Family.
To-day I have been sitting with Mistress Luther in the garden
behind the Augustei, under the shade of the pear-tree, where
she so often sits beside the Doctor. Our children were playing
around us ^her little Hanschen with the boys, while the little
Magdalen sat cooing like a dove over some flowers, which she
was pulling to pieces, on the grass at our feet
She talked to me much about the Doctor ; how dearly he
loves the little ones, and what lessons of divine love and wisdom
he learns from their little plays.
He says often, that beautiful as all God's works are, little
children are the fairest of all; that the dear angels especially
watch over them. He is very tender with them, and says some-
times they are better theologians than he is, for they trust God.
Deeper prayers and higher theology he never hopes to reach
than the first the little ones learn the Lord's Prayer and the
Catechism. Often, she said, he says over the Catechism, to
remind himself of all the treasures of faith we possess.
It is delightful too, she says, tq listen to the heavenly theology
he draws from birds and leaves and flowers, and the commonest
gifts of God or events of life. At table, a plate of fruit will open
to him a whole volume of God's bounty, on which he. will dis-
course. Or, taking a rose in his hand, he will say, "A man who
could make one rose like this would be accounted most wonder-
ful; and God scatters countless such flowers around us! But
the very infinity of his gifts makes us blind to them."
And one evening, he said of a little bird, warbling its last
little song before it went to roost, "Ah, dear little bird! he has
chosen his shelter, and is quietly rocking himself to sleep, with-
out 9 care for to-morrow's lodging; calmly holding by his little
twig, and leaving God to think for him."
In spring he loves to direct her attention to the little points
and tufts of life peeping everywhere from the brown earth or
the bare branches. " Who," he said, "that had never witnessed
a spring-time would have guessed, two months since, that these
lifeless branches had concealed within them all that hidden
power of life? It will be thus with us at the resurrection. God
writes his gospel, not in the Bible alone, but in trees, and
flowers, and clouds, and stars.'*
Elsys Story. 4^1^
And thus, to Mistress Luther, that little garden, with his
presence and his discourse, has become like an illuminated
Gospel and Psalter.
I ventured to ask her some questions, and, among odiers, if
she had ever heard him speak of using a form of words in
prayer. She said she had once heard him say "we might use
forms of words in private prayer until the wings and feathers of
our souls are grown, that we may soar freely upward into the
pure air of God's presence." But his prayers, she says, are
sometimes like the trustful pleadings of his little boy Hanschen
with him ; and sometimes like the wrestling of a giant in an
agony of conflict
She said, also, that she often thanks God for the Doctor^s love
of music. When his mind and heart have been strained to the
utmost, music seems to be like a bath of pure fresh water to his
spirit, bracing and resting it at once.
I indeed have myself heard him speak of this, when I have
been present at the meetings he has every week at his house for
singing in pjuts. " The devil," he says " that lost spirit^
cannot endure sacred songs of joy. Our passions and im-
patiences, our complainings and our cryings, our Alas ! and our
Woe is me! please him well; but our songs and psalms vex him
and grieve him sorely."
Mistress Luther told me she had many an anxious hour about
the Doctor's health. He is often so sorely pressed with work
and care; and he has never recovered the weakening effects of
his early fasts and confli:ts.
His tastes at table are very simple, his favourite dishes are
herrings and pease-soup. His habits are abstemious, and when
engrossed with any especial work, he would forget or go without
his meals altogether if she did not press him to take them.
When writing his Commentary on the Twenty-second Psalm^
he shut himself up for three days with nothing but bread and
salt; until, at last, she had to send for a locksmith to break
open the door, when they found him absorbed in medita-
tion.
And yet, with all his deep thoughts and his wide cares, like a
king's or an archbishop's, he enters into his children's games a9
422 Chronicles of the Schdnherg-Cotta Family.
if he were a boy; and never fails, if he is at a fair on his travels,
to bring the little ones home some gift for a fairing.
She showed me a letter she had just received from him from
Coburg, for his little son Hanschen. She allowed me to copy
it It is written thus :
" Grace and peace in Christ to my heartily dear little son.
" I see gladly that thou leamest well and prayest earnestly*
Do thus, my little son, and go on. When I come home I will
bring thee a beautiful fairing. I know a pleasant garden, wherein
many children walk about They have little golden coats, and
pick up beautiful apples under the trees, and pears, cherries,
and plums. They dance and are meny, and have also beautiful
little ponies, with golden reins and silver saddles. Then I
asked the man whose the garden is, whose children those were.
He said, ' These are the children who love to pray, who leam
their lessons, and are good' Then I said, ^ Dear man, I also
have a little son; he is called Hansichen Luther. Might not
he also come into the garden, that he might eat such apples and
pears, and ride on such beautiful little ponies, and play with
these children)' Then the man said, 'If he loves to pray,
learns his lessons, and is good, he also shall come into the
garden ^Lippus and Jost also (the little sons of Melancthou
and Justus Jonas); and when they all come together, they also
shall have pipes, drums, lutes, and all kinds of music; and shall
dance, and shoot with little bows and arrows.'
'^ And he showed me there a fair meadow in the garden, pre-
pared for dancing. There were many pipes of pure gold,
drums, and silver bows and arrows. But it was still early in the
day, so that the children had not had their breakfasts. There-
fore I could not wait for the dancing, and said to the man, 'Ah,
dear sir, I will go away at once, and write all this to my little
&on Hansichen, that he may be sure to pray and to leam well,
and be good, that he also may come into this garden. But he
has a dear aunt, Lena ; he must bring her with hinu' Then
said the man, ' Let it be so ; go and write him thus.'
" Therefore, my dear little son Hansichen, leam thy lessons,
and pray with a cheerful heart; ^d tell all this to Lippus and
Elsies Story, 4^3
Justus too, that they also may learn their lessons and pray. So
shall you all come together into this garden. Herewith I com-
mend you to the Almighty God; and greet Aunt Lena, and
give her a kiss from me. Thy dear father,
Martin Luther."
Some who have seen this letter say it is too trifling for such
serious subjects. But heaven is not a grim and austere, but a
most bright and joyful place ; and Dr. Luther is only telling
the child in his own childish language what a happy place it is.
Does not God our heavenly Father do even so with us ]
I should like to have seen Dr. Luther turn from his grave
letters to princes and doctors about the great Augsburg Con-
fession, which they are now preparing, to write these loving
words to his little Hans. No wonder " Catharine Lutherinn,"
** Doctoress Luther/' " mea dominus Ketha," " my lord Kathe,"
as he calls her, is a happy woman. Happy for Gprmany that
the Catechism in which our children learn the first elements of
divine truth, grew out of the fatherly heart of Luther, instead
of being put together by a Diet or a General Council.
One more letter I have copied, because my children were so
interested in it. Dr. Luther finds at all times great delight in
the songs of birds. The letter I have copied was written on
the 28th April to his friends who meet around his table at home.
'^ Grace and peace in Christ, dear sirs and friends ! I have
received all your letters, and understand how things are going
on with you. That you, on the other hand, may understand
how things are going on here, I would have you know that we,
namely, I, Master Veit, and Cyriacus, are not going to the
Diet at Augsburg. We have, however, another Diet of our
own here*
'^ Just under our window there is a grove like a little forest,
where the choughs and crows have convened a diet, and there
is such a riding hither and thither, such an incessant tumult,
day and night, as if they were all merry and mad with drinking.
Young and old chatter together, until I wonder how their breath
can hold out so long. I should like to know if any of those
424 Chronicles of the Scfionberg-Cotta Family,
nobles and cavaliers are with you ; it seems to me they must
be gathered here out of the whole world.
" I have not yet seen their emperor ; but their great people
are always strutting and prancing before our eyes, not, indeed,
in costly robes, but all simply clad in one uniform, all alike
black, all alike grey-eyed, and all singing one song, only with
the most amusing varieties between young and old, and great
and small They are not careful to have a great palace and
hall of assembly, for their hall is vaulted with the beautiful,
broad sky, their floor is the field strewn with fair, green branches,
and their walls reach as far as the ends of the world. Neither
do they require steeds and armour; they have feathered wheels
with which they fly from shot and danger. They are, doubtless,
great and mighty lords, but what they are debating I do not
yet know.
"As far, however, as 1 understand through an interpreter,
they are planning a great foray and campaign against the wheat,
barley, oats, and all kinds of grain, and many a knight will
win his spurs in this war, and many a brave deed will be
done.
" Thus we sit here in our Diet, and hear and listen with
great delight, and learn how the princes and lords, with all the
other estates of the empire, sing and live so merrily. But our
especial pleasure is to see how cavalierly they pace about, whet
their beaks, and furbish their armour, that they may win glory
and victory from wheat and oats. - We wish them health and
wealth, and that they may all at once be impaled on a quick-
set hedge I
** For I hold they are nothing better than sophists and Papists
with their preaching and writing; and I should like to have
these also before me in our assembly, that I might hear their
pleasant voices and sermons, and see what a useful people they
^re to devour all that is on the face of the earth, and afterw^ds
diatter no one knows how long !
" To-day we have heard the first nightingale ; for they would
not trust ApriL We have had delightful weather here, no rain,
Except a little yesterday. With you, perhaps, it is otherwise.
Herewith. I commend you to God. Keep house well Given
Elsi's Story, 425
'froni the Diet of the grain-Turks, the 28th of April, anno
1530. Martinus Luther."
Yet, peaceful and at leisure as he seems, Gottfried says the
whole of Germany is leaning now once more on the strength of
that faithful heart
The Roman diplomatists again and again have all but per-
suaded Melancthon to yield everything for peace ; and, but for
the firm and faithful words which issue from " this wilderness,"
as Luther calls the Coburg fortress, Gottfried believes all might
have gone wrong. Severely and mournfully has Dr. Luther been
constrained to write more than once to " Philip Pusillanimity,"
demanding that at least he should not give up the doctrine of
justification by faith, and abandon all to the decision of the
bishops !
It is faitii which gives Luther this clearness of vision. " It
is God's word and cause," he writes, " therefore our prayer is
certainly heard, and already He has determined and prepared
the help that shall help us. This cannot fail. For he says,
* Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not
have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget,
yet will I not forget thee. See, I have graven thee on the
palms of my hands.' I have lately seen two miracles," he con-
tinues ; " the first, as I was looking out of my window and saw
the stars in heaven, and all that beautiful vaulted roof of God,
and yet saw no pillars on which the Master Builder had fixed
this vault ; yet the heaven fell not, but all that grand arch stood
firm. Now, there are some who search for such pillars, and
want to touch and grasp them, and since they cannot, they
wonder and tremble as if the heaven must certainly fall, for no
other reason but because they cannot touch and grasp its pillars.
If they could lay hold on those, think they, then the heaven
would stand firm !
" The second miracle was I saw great clouds rolling over
us, with such a ponderous weight that they might be compared
to a great ocean, and yet I saw no foundation on which they
rested or were based, nor any shore which kept them back ;
yet they fell not on us, but frowned on us with a stem coun-
426 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
tenance, and fled. But when they had passed by, then shone
forth both their foundation and our roof which had kept them
back the rainbow! Truly a weak, thin, slight foundation
and roof, which soon melted away into the clouds, and was
more like a shadowy prism, such as we see through coloured
glass, than a strong and firm foundation ! ^o that, we might
well distrust that feeble dyke which kept back that terrible
weight of waters. Yet we found, in fact, that this unsubstan-
tial prism could bear up the weight of waters, and that it
guards us safely. But there are some who look rather at the
thickness and massy weight of the waters and clouds, than at
this thin, slight, narrow bow of promise. They would like to
fed the strength of that shadowy, evanescent arch, and because
they cannot do this, they are ever fearing that the. clouds will
bring back the deluge."
Heavenly Father, since one man who trusts thy word can
thus uphold a nation, what could not thy word do for each
of us if we would each of us thus trust it, and Thee who
speakest it I
XXXIII.
WiTTEMBERG, XS4a
HE time I used to dread most of all in my life, after
that great bereavement which laid it waste, is come.
I am in the monotonous level of solitary middle age.
The sunny heights of childhood, and even the joyous breezy
slopes of youth, are almost out of sight behind me ; and the
snowy heights of reverend age, from which we can look over
into the promised land beyond, are almost as far before me.
Other lives have grown from the bubbling spring into the broad
and placid river, while mine is still the little narrow stream it
was at first ; only, creeping slow and noiseless through the flats,
instead of springing gladly from rock to rock, making music
wherever it came. Yet I am content; absolutely, fully content.
I am sure that my life also has been ordered by the highest
wisdom and love ; and that (as far as my faithless heart does
not hinder it) God is leading me also on to the very highest and
best destiny for me.
I did not always think so. I used to fear that not only
would this bereavement throw a shadow on my earthly life, but
that it would stunt and enfeeble my nature for ever; that
missing all the sweet, ennobling relationships of married life,
even throughout the ages I should be but an undeveloped,
one-sided creature.
But one day I was reading in Dr. Luther's German Bible the
chapter about the body of Christ, the twelfth of First Corin-
thians, and great comfort came into my heart through it I
aw that we are not meant to be separate atoms, each complete
in itself, but members of a body, each only complete through
428 Chronicles of tfte Schonberg-Cotta Family.
union with all the rest And ^hen I saw how entirely unimportant
it is in what place Christ shall set me in his body; and how
impossible it is for us to judge what he is training us for, until
the body is perfected and we see what we are to be in it
On the DUben Heath also, soon after, when I was walking
home with Els^s Gretchen, the same lesson came to me in a
parable, through a clump of trees 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 various
directions, 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 of that beautiful clump 1 And
looking up through the green interwoven leaves to the blue sky
1 said,
" Heavenly Father, thou art wise ! I will doubt no more.
Plant me where thou wilt in thy garden, and let me grow as
thou wilt ! Thou wilt not let me fail of my highest end."
Dr. Luther also said many things which helped me from time
to time, in conversation or in his sermons.
" The barley," he said, " must suffer much from man. First,
it is cast into the earth that it may decay. Then, when it is
grown up and ripe, it is cut and mown down. Then it is crushed
and pressed, fermented and brewed into beer.
" Just such a martyr also is the linen or flax. When it is ripe
it is plucked, steeped in water, beaten, dried, hacked, spun, and
woven into linen, which again is torn and cut Afterwards it
is made into plaster for sores, and used for binding up wounds.
Then it becomes lint, is laid under 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 to us, must thus suffer. Thus also must good, godly
Christians suffer much fron;L the ungodly and wicked. Thus,
however, the barley, wine, and com are ennobled; in man be-
coming flesh, and in the Christian man's flesh entering into the
heavenly kingdom."
Thekld's Story, 429
Often he speaks of the " dear,holy cross, a portion of which
is given to all Christians."
" All the saints," he said once, when a little child of one of
his friends lay ill, " must drink of the bitter cup. Could Mary
even, the dear mother of our Lord, escapel All who are dear
to him must suffer. Christians conquer when they suflfer; only
when they reb^l and resist are they defeated and lose the day."
He, indeed, knows what triaLand temptation mean. Many
a bitter cup has he had to drink, he to whom the sins, and sel-
fishness, and divisions of Christians are personal sorrow and
shame. It is therefore, no doubt, that he knows so well how
to sustain and comfort Those, he says, who are to be the
bones and sinews of the Church must expect the hardest blows.
Well I remember his saying, when, on the 8th of August,
1529, before his going to Coburg, he and his wife lay sick of a
fever, while he suffered also from sciatica, and many other ail-
ments,
"God has touched me sorely. I have been impatient; but
God knows better than I whereto it serves. Our Lord God is
like a printer who sets the letters backwards, so that here we can-
not read them. When ive are printed off yonder, in the life to come,
we shall read all clear and straightforward. Meantime we must
have patience."
In other ways more than I can number he and his words
have helped me. No one 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 guarded against 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 to feel
rebellious. I did not understand that the malignant one who
tempted me to rebel also tempted me to think God would not
forgive. I had thought before of affliction as a kind of sanctuary
where naturally I should 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 near unseen. As Luther says, " The
devil torments us in the place where we are most 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
430 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
been tormenting me, and turfied to Him who vanquished the
tempter of old to banish him now from me. For terrible as Dr.
Luther knows that fallen angel to be, " the antithesis," as he
said, " of the Ten Commandments," who for thousands of years
has been studying with an angeVs intellectual power, " how most
effectually to distress and ruin man," ^he always reminds us
that, nevertheless, the devil is a vanquished foe, that the \'ictoiy
ha^ not now, to be won; that, bold as the evil one is to assail and
tempt the ungarded, a word or look of faith will compel him to
flee " hke a beaten hound." It is this blending of the sense of
Satan's power to tempt, with the conviction of his powerlessness
to injure the believing heart, which has so often sustained me
in Dr. Luther's words.
But it is not only thus that he has helped me. He presses
On us often the necessity of occupation. It is better, he says,
to engage in the humblest work, than to sit still alone and
encounter the temptations of Satan. " Oft in my temptations
I have need to talk even with a child, in order to expel such
thoughts as the devil possesses me with ; and this teaches me
not to boast as if of myself I were able to help myself, and to
subsist without the strength of- Christ. I need one at times to
help me who in his whole body has not as much theology as I
have in one finger." "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 wheat to flour ; if you put no wheat it
still grinds on, but then it is itself it grinds and wears away. So
the human heart, unless it be occupied with some 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 Els^ wanted little
help with her children, or only occasionally. At home the cares
of poverty were over, and my dear father and mother lived in
comfort, without my aid. I used discontentedly to wish some-
times that we were poor again, as in Elsb's girlish days, that I
might be needed, and really feel it of some use to spin and em-
broider, instead of feeling that I only worked for the sake of
Thekla 's Story. 43 1
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 life around, and half to reproach Dr. Luther in my heart
for causing the suppression of the convents. In a nunnery, at
least, I thought I ^ould have been something definite and re-
cognised, instead of the negative, undeveloped creature, I felt
myself to be, only distinguished firom those around by the
absence of what made their lives real and happy.
My mother's recovery from the plague helped to cure me of
that, by reminding me of the home blessings still left. I began,
too, to confide once more in God, and I was comforted by
thinking of what my grandmother said to me one day when I
was a little girl, crying hopelessly over a tangled skein and sob-
bing, **I shall never untangle it;" "Wind, dear child, wind on^
inch by inch, undo each knot one by one, and the skein will
soon disentangle itself." So I resolved to wind on my little
thread of life day by day, and undo one little knot after another,
imtil now, indeed, the skein has disentangled itself.
Few women, I think, have a life more full of love and interest
than mine. I have imdertaken the care of a school for little
girls, among whom are two orphans, made fatherless by the
peasants' war, who were sent to us; and this also I owe to Dr.
Luther. He has nothing more at heart than the education 01
the young; nothing gives him more pain than to see the covet-
ousness which grudges funds for schools; and nothing more joy
than to see the little ones grow up in all good knowledge. As
he wrote to the Elector John from Coburg twelve years ago :
" The merciful God shows himself indeed gracious in making
his Word so fiiiitful in your land. The tender little boys and
maidens are so well instructed in the Catechism and Scriptures,
that my heart melts when I see that young boys and girls can
pray, believe, and speak better of God and 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 like is not in the world. It is as if God said, ^ Courage,
dear Duke John, I commit to thee my noblest treasure, my
pleasant Paradise; thou shalt be father over it For under thy
432 Chronicles of tJu Sclionberg-Cotta Family,
guard and rule I place it, and give thee the honour that thou shalt.
be my gardener and steward.' This is assuredly true. It is
even as if our Lord himself were your grace's guest and ward,
siace his Word and his little ones are your perpetual guests and
wards."
For a little while a lady, a friend of his wife, resided in his
house in order to commence such a school at Wittemberg for
young girls ; and now it has become my charge. And often
Dr. Luther comes in and lays his hands on the heads of the
little ones, and asks God to bless them, or listens while they
repeat the Catechism or the Holy Scriptures.
December nit 1542.
Once more the Christmas tree has been planted in our homes
at Wittemberg. How many such happy Christian homes there
are among us 1 Our Elsfe's, Justus Jonas', and his gentle^ sym-
pathizing wife, who. Dr. Luther says, ^^ always brings comfort in
her kind pleasant countenance." We all meet at Elsfe's home
pn such occasions now. The voices of the children are better
than light to the blind eyes of my father, and my mother renews
her own maternal joys again in her grandchildren, without the
cares.
But of all these homes none is happier or more united than
Dr. Luther's. His childlike pleasure in little things makes
every family festival 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 the heavenly family, and of our relationship
to God. There are five children in his family now; Hans, the
first-bom; Magdalen, a lovely, loving girl of thirteen; Paul,
Martin, and Margaretha.
How good it is for those who are bereaved and sorrowful that
our Christian festivals point forward and upward as well as
backward-; that the eternal joy to which we are drawing ever
nearer is linked to the earthly joy which has passed away. Yes,
the old heathen tree of life, which that young gre^n fir from the
primeval forests of our land is said to typify, has been christened
into the Christmas tree. The old tree of Hfe 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 of human
T/iekla's Story. 433
life. Nature ever renewing herself contrasted mournfully with
the human 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 is not merely " a living soul, but
a life-giving spirit." In it the evanescence of Nature, immortal
as she seems, is contrasted with the true eternal life of mortal
man. In the joy of the little ones, once more, thank God, my
whole heart seems to rejoice ; for I also have my face towards
the dawn, and I can hear the fountain of life bubbling up which-
ever way I turn. Only, before me it is best and freshest! for it
is springing up to life everlasting.
December xsiz.
A shadow has fallen on the peaceful home of Dr. Luther:
Magdalen, the unsejfish, obedient, pious, loving child the
darling of her fathers heart is dead; the first-bom daughter,
whose portrait, when she was a year old, used to cheer and
delight him at Cobuig.
On the 5th of this last September she was taken ill, and then
Luther wrote at once to his friend Marcus Crodel to send his
son John from Torgau, where he was studying, to see his sisten
He wrote,
" Grace and peace, my Marcus Crodel. I request that you
will conceal from my John what I am writing to you. My
daughter Magdalen is literally almost at the point of death soon
about to depart to her Father in heaven, unless it shpuld yet
seem fit to God to spare her. But she herself so sighs to see
her brother, that I am constrained to send a carriage to fetch
him. They indeed loved one another greatly. May she sur-
vive to his coming ! I do what I can, lest afterwards the sense
of having neglected anything should torture me. Desire him,
therefore, without mentioning the cause, to return hither at once
with all speed in this carriage; hither, ^where she will either
sleep in the Lord or be restored. 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
take her hence, I am content to know that she will be with thee."
28
I
434 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Famify,
And as she lay in the bed, he said to her,
" Magdalenchen, my little daughter, thou wouldst like to stay
with thy father ; 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 spirit be]"
And among other things he said,
" For a thousand years God has given no bishop such great
gifts as he has given me ; and we should rejoice in his gifts. I
am angry with myself that I cannot rejoice in my heart over
her, nor give thanks; although now and then I can sing a little
song to our God, and thank him a little for all this. But let us
take courage; living or dying, we are the Lord's. * Sive vivimus,
sive moremur, Domini sumus.* This is true, whether we take
* Domini ' in the nominative or the genitive : we are the Lord's,
and in him we are lords over death and life."
Then said Master George Rorer,
"I once heard your reverence say a thing which often
comforts me ^namely, * I have prayed our Lord God that he
will give me a happy departure 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 ever so brief a space.'
I fear sometimes," continued Master Rorer, " that I shall de-
part hence suddenly, in silence, without being able to speak a
word."
Then said Dr. Martin Luther,
" Living or dying, we are the Lord's. It is equally so whether
you were killed by falling down stairs, or were sitting and
writing, and suddenly should die. It would not injure me if I
fell from a ladder and lay dead at its foot; for the devil hates us
grievously, and might even bring about such a thing as that"
When, at last, the little Magdalen lay at the point of death,
lier father fell on his knees by her bed-side, wept bitterly, and
T/iekld's Story. . 435
prayed that God would receive her. Then she departed, and
fell asleep in her father's arms. Her mother was also in the
room, but further off, on account of her grief. This happened
a little after nine o'clock on the Wednesday after 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 leave her with me; for I love her very dearly. But
His will be done; for nothing 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 to him."
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 race is as great as that of parents to their
children, it is indeed great and fervent"
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 l)dng there, he said,
^' Ah, thou sweet Lenichen, thou shalt rise again, and shine
like a star; yes, like the sunl"
They had made the coffin too narrow and too short, and he
said,
** The bed is too small for thee 1 I am indeed joyful in spirit,
but after the flesh I am very sad; this parting is so beyond
measure trpng. Wonderful it is that I should know she is
certainly at peace, and that all is well with her, and yet should
be so sad."
And when the people who came to lay out the corpse, accord-
ing to custom, spoke to the Doctor, and said they were sorry
for his. affliction, he said,
" 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 very hour,"
Then said one, "That is true indeed; yet every one would
wish to keep his own,"
Doctor Martin answered.
43^ Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
** Flesh is flesh, and blood is blood, t am glad that she iar
yonder. There is 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 such thither!" alluding to his infant Elizabeth.
As they were chanting by the corpse, " Lord, remember not
our former sins, which are of old," he said,
" I say, O Lord, not our former sins only, nor only those of
old, but our present sins; for we are usurers, exactors, misers.
Yea, the abomination of the mass is still in the world!"
When the coffin was closed, and she was buried, he said,
" There is indeed a resurrection of the body!^
And as they returned from the foneral, he said,
" My daughter is now provided for in body and soul. We
Christians have nothing to complain of; we know it must be so.
We are more certain of eternal life than of anjrthing else; for
God who has promised it to us for his dear Son*s sake, can
never lie. Two saints of my flesh our Lord God has taken, but
not of my blood. Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom."
Among other things, he said,
" We must take great care for our children, and especially for
the poor little maidens; we must not leave it to others to care
for them. I have no compassion on the boys. A lad can
maintain himself wherever he is, if he will only work; and if he
will not work, he is a scoundrel But the poor maiden-kind
must have a staff to lean on.*'
And again,
" I gave this daughter very willingly to our God. After the
flesh, I would indeed have wished to keep her longer with me;
but since he has taken her hence, I thank him."
The night before M^dalen Luther died, her mother had a
dream, in which she saw two men clothed in fair raiment, beautiful
and young, come and lead her daughter away to her bridal
When, on the next morning Philip Melancthon 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
Thekla's Story,
437
lead this maiden into 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 to me the Turkish kingdom, I would not have it
Oh, she is well cared for ; * Beati mortui qui in Domino moriuntur.'
Who dies thus, certainly has eternal life. I would that I, and
my children, and ye all could thus all depart; for evil days are
coming. There is neither help nor counsel more on earth, I
see, until the Judgment Day. I hope, if God will, it will not
be long delayed; for covetousness and usury increase."
And often at supper he repeated, '' t multipicata sunt mala
in terris."
He himself made this epitaph, and had it placed on his Mag-
dalen's tomb :
" Dormio cum Sanctis hie Magdalena Lutheri
Filta, et hoc strato tecta quiesco meo.
Filia mortis eram, peccati semine nata,
Sanguine sed vivo, ChristCf redempta tuo." *
In German,-
" Here sleep I. Lenichen, Dr. Luther's little daughter,
Rest with all the saints in my little bed ;
I who was bom in sins.
And must for ever 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 and deeply himself, as many of his letters show.
To Jonas he wrote,
'^I think you will have heard that my dearest daughter
Magdalen is bom 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
* A friend has translated it thus :
I, Luther's daughter Magdalen,
Here slumber with the blest ;
Upon this bed I lay my head,
Aud 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,
^d now I live in heaven.
438 Chronicles of the Schohberg-Cotta Family.
devil; yet such is the strength of natural affection, that we can^
not part with her without sobs and groans of heart They cleave
to our heart, they remain fixed in its depths ^her face, her
woids 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 glori
fies our flesh ! She was, as thou knowest, gentle and sweet ia
disposition, and was altogether lovely. Blessed be the Lord
Jesus Christ, who called, and chose, and has thus magnified
her 1 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 vehemendy.
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 gende 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 depar-
ture 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"
Thekla's Story. 439
So moumfiilly and tenderly he writes and speaks, the shadow
of that sorrow at the centre of his life overspreading the whole
world with darkness 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 and darkened hearth, and sees the
world as it is; the covetousness of the rich; the just demands,
yet insurrectionary attempts of the poor; the war with the Turks
without, the strife ia the empire within; the fierce animosities
of impending religious war; the lukewarmness and divisions
among his frieiids. For many years God gave that feeling
heart a refuge from all these in the bright, unbroken circle of
his home. But now the next look to him seems beyond this
life; to death, which unveils the kingdom of truth and righteous-
ness, and love, to each, one by one; or still more, to the glorious
Advent which will manifest it to all. Of this he delights to
speak. The end of the world, he feels sure, is near ; and he
says aU preachers should tell their peopl6 to pray for its coming,
as the beginning of the golden age. He said once " O gracious
God, come soon again 1 I am waiting ever for the. day the
spring morning, when day and night are equal, and the clear,
bright rose of that dawn shall appear. From that glow of
morning I imagine a thick, black cloud will issue, forked with
lightning, and then a crash, and heaven and earth will falL
Praise be to God, who has taught us to long and look for that
day. In the Papacy, they sing
' Dies irx, dies ilia ;'
but we look forward to it with hope; and I trust it i^ not far
distant''
Yet he is no dreamer, listlessly clasping his hands in the
night, and watching for the dawn. He is of the day, a child of
the light; and calmly, and often cheerfully, he pursues his life
of ceaseless toil for others, considerately attending to tlie wants
and pleasures of all, from the least to the greatest; affection-
ately desirous to part with his silver plate, rather than not give
a generous reward to a faithful old servant, who was retiring
from his service; pleading the cause of the helpless ; writing
letters of consolation to the humblest who need his aid; caring
440 Chronicles of the Schonherg-Cotta Family.
for all the churches, yet steadily disciplining his children when
they need it, or ready to enter inta any scheme for their plea-
sure.
WiTTBMBBKG, 1545.
It seems as if Dr. Luther were as necessary to us now as
Vheti he gave the first impulse to better things, by affixing his
theses to the doors of Wittembeig, 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 many lives, and the des-
tinies of so many lands. He has been often ailing lately, and
sometimes yery seriously. The selfish luxuiy of the rich burghers
and i)obles troubles him much. He almost forced his way one
day into the Elector's' cabinet, to press on him the appropria-
tion of some of the confiscated church revenues to the payment
of pastors and schoolmasters; and earnestly, again and again,
from the pulpit, does he denounce covetousness.
"All other vices," he says, "bring their pleasures; but the
wretched avaricious man is the slave of his goods, not their
master; he enjoys neither this world nor the next Here he
has purgatory, and there hell; while faith and content bring
rest to the soul here, and afterwards bring the soul to heaven.
For the avaricious lack what they have, as well as what they
have not."
Never was a heart more free from selfish interests and aims
than his. His faith is alwa3rs seeing the invisible God; and to
him it seems the most melancholy folly, as well as sin, that
people should build their nests in this forest, on all whose trees
he sees " the forester's mark of destruction."
The tone of his preaching has often lately been reproachful
and sad.
Elsb's Gretchen, now a thoughtful maiden of three -and-
twcnty, said to me the other day,
'* Aunt Thekla, why does Dr. Luther preach sometimes as
if his preaching had done no good) Have not many of the
evil things he attacked been removed? Is not the Bible in
every homel Our mother says we cannot be too thankful for
living in these times, when we are taught the truth about God,
and are given a religion of trust and love, instead of one of dis-
Thekla*s Story, 441
- trust and dread Why does Dr. Luther often speak as if nothing
had been done?
And I could only say,
" We see what has been done ; but Dr. Luther only knows
what he hoped to do. He said one day * If I had known at
first that men were so hostile to the Word of God, I should have
held my peace. I imagined that they sinned merely through
ignorance.' "
" I suppose, Gretchen," I said, " that he had before him the
vision of the whole of Christendom flocking to adore and serve
his Lord, when once he. had shown them how good He is.
We see what Dr. Luther has done. He sees what he hoped,
and contrasts it what is left undone."
XXXIV.
DO not think there is another old man and woman in
Christendom who ought to be so thankful as my hus-
band and I.
No doubt all parents are inclined to look at the best side of
their own children; but with ours there is really no other side
to look at, it seems to me. Perhaps Elsb has sometimes a little
too much of my anxious mind; but even in her tender heart, as
in all the others, there is a large measure of her father's hope-
fulness. And then, although they have, perhaps, none of them
quite his inventive genius, yet that seems hardly a matter of
regret; because, as things go in the world, other people seem
so often, at the very goal, to step in and reap the fruit of these
inventions, just by adding some insignificant detail which makes
the invention work, and gives them the appearance of having
been the real discoverers.
Not that I mean to murmur for one instant against the people
who have this little knack of just putting the finishing touch
and making things succeed; that also, as the house-father says,
is God's gift, and although it cannot certainly be compared to
those great, lofty thoughts and plans of my husband's, it has
more current value in the world. Not, again, that I would for
an instant murmur at the world. We have all so much more in
it than we deserve (except, perhaps, my dearest husband, who
cares so little for its rewards !) It has been quite wonderful
how good every one has been to us. Gottfried Reichenbach,
and all our sons-in-law, are like sons to us ; and certainly
could not have prized our daughters more if they had had the
dowry of princesses; although I must candidly say I think our
The Mother's Story. 443
dear daughters without a kreutzer of dowry are worth a fortune
to any man. I often wonder how it is they are such house*
wives, and so sensible and wise in every way, when I never
considered myself at all a clever manager* To be sure their
fathers conversation was always very improving; and my dear
blessed mother was a store-house of wisdom and experience.
However, there is no accounting for these things. God is won-
derfully good in blessing the humblest efforts to train up the
little ones for him. We often think the poverty of their early
years was quite a school of patience and household virtues for
them all. Even Christopher and Thekla, who caused us more
anxiety at first than the others, are the very stay and joy of our
old age; which shows how little we can foresee what good things
God is preparing for us.
How I used at one time to tremble for them both I It shocked
lsb and me so grievously to see Christopher, as we thought,
quite turning his back on religion, after Fritz became a monk ;
and what a relief it was to see him find in Dr. Luther's sermons
and in the Bible the truth which bowed his heart in reverence,
yet left his character free to develop itself without being com-
pressed into a mould made for other characters. What a relief
it was to hear that he turned, not from religion, but from what
was false in the religion then taught, and to see him devoting
himself to his calling as a printer with a feeling as sacred as
Fritz to his work as a pastor 1
Then our Thekla, how anxious I was about her at one time !
how eager to take her training out of God's hands into my own,
which I thought, in my ignorance, might spare her fervent, en-
thusiastic, loving heart some pain.
I wanted to tame down and moderate everything in her by
tender warnings and wise precepts. I wanted her to love less
vehemently, to rejoice with more limitation, to grieve more
moderately. I tried hard to compress her character into a nar-
rower mould. But God would not have it so. I can see it all
now. She was to love and rejoice, and tlien to weep and lament,
according to the full measure of her heart, that in the heights and
depths to which God led her, she might learn what she was to
learn of the heights and depths of the love which extends beyond
444 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
all joy and below all sorrow. Her character, instead of becom-
ing dwarfed and stunted, as my ignorant hand might have made
it, was to be thus braced, and strengthened, and rooted, that
others might find shelter beneath her sympathy and love, as so
many do now. I would have weakened in order to soften ;
God's providence has strengthened and expanded while softening,
and made her strong to endure and pity as well as strong to feel.
No one can say what she is to us, the one left entirely to us,
to whom we are still the nearest and the dearest, who binds our
years together by the unbroken memory of her tender care, and
makes us young in her childlike love, and brings into our fail-
ing life the activity and interest of mature age by her own life
of active benevolence.
Elsfe and her household are the delight of our daily life ; Eva
and Fritz are our most precious and consecrated treasures, and
all the rest are good and dear as children can be ; but to all the
rest we are the grandmother and the grandfather. To Thekla
we are "father" and "mother" still, the shelter of her life and
the home of her affections. Only, sometimes my old anxious
fears creep over me when I think what she will do when we are
gone. But I have no excuse for these now, with all those pro-
mises of our Lord, and his word about the lilies and the birds,
in plain German in my Bible, and the very same lilies and birds
preaching to me in colours and songs as plain from the eaves
and from the garden outside my window.
Never did any woman owe so much to Dr. Luther and the
Reformation as I. Christopher's rehgion ; Fritz and Eva's mar-
riage ; Thekla's presence in bur home, instead of her being a
nun in some convent-prison ; all the love of the Ikst months my
dear sister Agnes and I spent together before her peaceful
death; and the great weight of fear removed from my own
heart!
And yet my timid, ease-loving nature, will sometimes shrink,
not so much from what has been done, as from the way in which
it has been done. I fancy a little more gentleness might have
prevented so terrible a breach between the new and the old re-
ligions ; that the peasant war might have been saved ; and some-
how or other (how, I cannot at all tell) the good people on both
The Mother's Stary. 445.
sides might have been kept at one. For that there are good
people on both sides, nothing will ever make me doubt In-:
deed, is not one of our own sons our good and sober-minded
Pollux still in the old Church 1 And can I doubt that he and
his devout, affectionate little wife, who visits the poor and nurses
the sick, love God and try to serve him ?
In truth, I cannot help half counting it among our mercies
that we have one son still adhering to the old religion ; although
my children, who are wiser than I, do not think so j nor my hus-
band, who is wiser than they ; nor Dr. Luther, who is, on the"
whole, I believe, wiser than any one. Perhaps I should rather
say, that great as the grief is to us and the loss to him, I cannot
help seeing some good in oxur Pollux remaining as a link be-
tween us and the religion of our fathers. It seems to remind
us of the tie of our common creation and redemption, and our
common faith, however dim, in our Creator and Redeemer. It
prevents our thinking all Christendom which belongs to the old
religion quite the same as the pagans or the Tiurks; and it also
helps a little to prevent their thinking us such hopeless infidels.
Besides, although they would not admit it, I feel sure that
Dr. Luther and the Reformation have taught Pollux and his wife
many things. They also have a German Bible ; and although
it is much more cumbrous than Dr. Luther's, and, it seems to
me, not half such genuine, hearty German, still he and his wife
can read it ; and I sometimes trust we shall find by-and-by we
did not really diflfer so very much about our Saviour, although
we may have differed about Dr. Luther.
Perhaps I am wrong, however, in thinking that great changes
might have been more quietly accomplished. Thekla says the
spring must have its thunder-storms as well as its sunshine and
gentle showers, and that the stone could not be rolled away
from the sepulchre, nor the veil rent in the holy place, without
an earthquake.
Else's Gottfried says the devil would never suffer his lies about
the good and gracious God to be set aside without a battle ; and
that the dear holy angels have mighty wars to wage, as well as
silent watch to keep by the cradles of the little ones. Only I
cannot help wishing that the Reformers, and even Dr. Luther
446 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
himself, would follow the example of the archangel Michael in
not returning railing for railing.
Of one thing, however, I am quite sure, whatever any one
may say ; and that is, that it is among our great mercies that
our Atlantis married a Swiss, so that through her we have a link
with our brethren the evangelical Christians who follow the
Zwinglian Confession. I shall always be thankful for the months
her father and I passed under their roof If Dr. Luther could
only know how they revere him for his noble work, and how one
they are with us and him in faith in Christ and Christian love !
I was a little perplexed at one time how it could be that such
good men should separate, until Thekla reminded me of that
evil one who goes about accusing God to us, and us to one
another.
On the other hand, some of the Zwinglians are severe on Dr.
Luther for his "compromise with Rome," and his "unscriptural
doctrines," as some of them call his teaching about the sacra-
ments.
These are things on which my head is not clear enough to
reason. It is always so much more natural to me to look out
for points of agreement than of difference 3 and it does seem to
me, that deep below all the differences good men often mean
the same. Dr. Luther looks on holy baptism in contrast with
the monastic vows, and asserts the common glory of the baptism
and Christian profession which all Christians share, against the
exclusive claims of any section of priests or monks. And in the
holy Supper, it seems to me simply the certainty of the bless-
ing, and the reality of the presence of our Saviour in the sacra-
ment, that he is really vindicating, in his stand on the words,
" This is my body." Baptism represents to him the consecra-
tion and priesthood of all Christians, to be defended against all
narrow privileges of particular orders; the holy Supper, the as-
sured presence of Christ, to be defended against all doubters.
To the Swiss, on the other hand, the contrast is between faitli
and form, letter and spirit This is, at all events, what my hus-
band thinks.
I wish Dr. Luther would spend a few months with our Atlan-
tis and her Conrad. I shall always be thankful we did.
The Mother's Story. 447
Lately, the tone of Dr. Luther's preaching has often been re-
proachful and full of warning. These divisions between the
evangelical Christians distress him so much. Yet he himself,
with that resolute will of his, keeps them apart, as he would keep
his children from poison, saying severe and bitter things of the
Zwinglians, which sometimes grieve me much, because I know
Conrad Winkelried's parish and Atlantis' home.
Well, one thing is certain : if Dr. Luther had been like me,
we should have had no Reformation at all. And Dr. Luther
and the Reformation have brought peace to my heart and joy
to my life, for which I would go through any storms. Only, to
leave our dear ones behind in the storms is another thing !
But our dear heavenly Father has not, indeed, called us to
leave them yet When he does call us, he will give us the strength
for that And then we shall see everything quite clearly, be-
cause we shall see our Saviour quite clearly, as He is, know his
love, and love him quite perfecdy. What that will be we know
not yet 1
But I am quite persuaded that when we do really see our
blessed Lord &ce to face, and see all things in his light, we shall
all be veiy much surprised, and find we have something to un-
learn, as well as infinitely much to learn ; not Pollux, and the
Zwinglians, and I only, but Dr. Philip Melancthon, and Dr.
Luther, and all 1
For the Reformation, and even Dr. Luthef s German Bible,
have not taken all the clouds away. Still, we see through a
glass darkly.
But they have taught us that there is nothing evil and dark
behind to be found out ; only, much to be revealed which is toe
good for us yet to understand, and too bright for us yet to see.
XXXV.
ElSLBBBN, X54S.
|UNT ELSE sa)rs no one in the world ought to present
more thanksgivings to God than Heinz and I, and I
am sure she is right.
In the first place, we have the best father and mother in the
world, so that whenever from our earliest years they have spoken
to us about our Father in heaven, we have had just to think of
what they were on earth to us, and feel that all their love and
goodness together are what God is ; only (if we can conceive
such a thing) much more. We have only had to add to what
they are, to learn what God is, not to take anything away ; to
say to ourselves, as we think of our parents, so kind in judging
others, so loving, so true, " God is like that only the love is
greater and wiser than our father's, tenderer and more sympathiz-
ing than our mother's (difficult as it is to imagine). And then
there is just one thing in which he is unlike. His power is un-
bounded. He can give to us every blessing he sees it good to
give.
With such a father and mother on earth, and such a Father
in heaven, and with Heinz, how can I ever thank our God
enough %
And our mother is so young still ! Our dear father said the
other day, " her hair has not a tinge of grey in it, but is as gol-
den as our Agnes's." And her face is so fair and sweet, and
her voice so clear and full in her own dear hymns, or in talking !
Aunt Elsb says, it makes one feel at rest to look at her, and that
her voice always was the sweetest in the world, something be-
tween church music and the cooing of a dove. Aunt Elsfe says
Eva^s Agnes' s Story. 449
also, that even as a child she had just the same way she has
now of seeing what you are thinking about oi coming into yoxxr
heart, and making everything that is good in it feel it is under-
stood, and all that is bad in it feel detected and slink away.
Our dear father does not, indeed, look so young ; but I like
men to look as if they had been in the wars as if their hearts
liad been well ploughed and sown. And the grey in his hair, and
the furrows on his forehead those two upright ones when he is
thinking ^and the firm compression of his mouth, and the hollow
on his cheek, seem to me quite as beautifiil in their way as our
mothers placid brow, and the dear look on her lips, like the dawn
of a smile, as if the law of kindness had moulded every curve.
Then, in the second place (perhaps I ought to have said in the
first), we have " the Catechism." And Aunt Elsfe says we have
no idea, Heinz and I, what a blessing that is to us. We cer-
tainly did not always think it a blessing when we were learning
it But I begin to understand it now, especially since I have
been staying at Wittemberg with Aunt Elsfe, and she has told me
about the perplexities of her childhood and early youth.
Always to have learned about God as the Father who " cares
for us every day" ogives us richly all things to enjoy, and
" that all out of pure, fatherly, divine love and goodness ; and
of the Lord Jesus Christ, that he has redeemed me from all sin,
from death, and from the power of the devil, to be his own
redeemed me, not with gold and silver, but with his holy,
precious blood ;" and of the Holy Spirit, that "he dwells with
us daily, calls us by his gospel, enlightens, and richly forgives;"
all this, she says, is the greatest blessing any one can know.
To have no dark, suspicious thoughts of the good God, uncon-
sciously drunk in from infancy, to dash away from our hearts
Dr. Luther himself says we have little idea what a gift that is
to us young people of this generation.
It used to be like listening to histories of dark days centuries
ago, to hear Aunt Els^ speak of her childhood at Eisenach,
when Dr. Luther also was a boy, and used to sing for bread at
our good kinswoman Ursula Cotta's door ^when the monks
and nuns from the many high-walled convents used to walk
demurely in their dark robes about the streets ; and Aunt Elsd
2Q
450 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
used to tremble at the thought of heaven, because it might be like
a convent garden, and all the heavenly saints like Aunt Agnes.
Our dear Greit-Aunt Agnes, how impossible for us to under-
stand her being thus dreaded . she who was the playmate of
our childhood ; and used to spoil us, our mother said, by doing
everything we asked, and making us think she enjoyed being
pulled about, and made a lion or a Turk of, as much as we en^
joyed it How well I remember now the pang that came over
Heinz and me when we were told to speak and step softly, be-
cause she was ill, and then taken for a few minutes in the day
(o sit quite still by her bed-side with picture-books, because she
loved to look at us, but could not bear any noise. / And at last
the day when we were led in solemnly, and she could look at
us no more, but lay quite still and white, while we placed our
flowers on the bed, and we both felt it too sacred and too much
like being at church tp cry until our evening prayer-time came,
and our mother told us that Aunt Agnes did not need our prayers
any longer, because God had made her quite good and happy
in heaven. And Heinz said he wished God would take us all,
and make us quite good and happy with her. But I, when we
were left in our cribs alone, sobbed bitterly, and could not sleep.
It seemed so terrible to think Aunt Agnes did not want us any
more, and that we could do nothing ftiore for her she who
had been so tenderly good to us ! I was so afraid, also, that
we had not been kind enough to her, had teased her to play
with us, and made more noise than we ought; and that that was
the reason God had taken her away. Heinz could not under-
stand that at all. He was quite sure God was too kind ; and,
although he also cried, he soon fell asleep. It was a great
relief to me when our mother came round, as she always did the
last thing to see if we were asleep, and I could sob out my
troubles on her heart, and say
" Will Aunt Agnes never want us any more 1"
" Yes, darling," said our mother ; " she wants us now. She
is waiting for us all to come to her."
" Then it was not because we teased her, and were noisy, she
was taken away ] We did love her so very dearly I And can
we do nothing for her nowl"
Eva's Agnes' s Story, 45 1
Then she told me how Aunt Agnes had sufiered much here,
and that our heavenly Father had taken her home^ and that,
although we could not do an3rthing for her now, we need not
leave her name out of our nightly prayers, because we could
always say, " Thank God for taking dear Aunt Agnes home 1
And so two things were written on my heart that night, that there
was a place like home beyond the sky, where Aunt Agnes was wait-
ing for us, loving us quite as much as ever, with God who loved
us more than any one ; and that we must be as kind as possible
to people, and not give any one a moment's pain, because a time
may come when they will not need our kindness any more.
It is very difficult for me who always think of Aunt Agnes
waiting for us in heaven, with the wistful loving look she used
to have when she lay watching for Heinz and me to come and
sit by her bed-side, to imagine what different thoughts Aunt
Els^ had about her when she was a nun.
But Aunt Els^ says that she has no doubt that Heinz and I,
with our teasing, and our noise, and our love, were among the
chief instruments of her sanctification. Yes, those days of Aunt
Else's childhood appear almost as far away from us as the days
of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, who lived at the Wartburg, used
to seem from Aunt Els^. It is wonderful to think what that
miner's son, whom old John Reineck remembers carrying on his
shoulders to the school-house up the hill, here at Eisleben, has
done for us all. So completely that grim old time seems to
have passed away. There is not a monastery left in air Saxony,
and the pastors are all married, and schools are established in
every town, where Dr. Luther says the young lads and maidens
hear more about God and Christianity than the nuns and monks
in all the convents had learned thirty years ago.
Not that all the boys and maidens are good as they ought to
be. No ; that is too plain from what Heinz and I feel and
know, and also from what our dear father preaches in the pulpit
on Sundays. Our mother says sometimes she is afraid we of
this generation shall grow up weak, and self-indulgent, and
ease-loving, unlike our fathers who had to fight for every inch
of truth they hold, with the world, the flesh, and the devil.
But our dear father smiles gravely, and says, she need not
452 Chronicles of the Scttonberg-Cotta Family,
fear. These three enemies are not slain yet, and will give the
young generation enough to do. Besides, the Pope is still
reigning at Rome, and the Emperor is even now threatening us
with an army, to say nothing of the Turks, and the Anabaptists,
of whom Dr. Luther says so much.
I knew very little of the world until two years ago, and not
much, I am afraid, of myself. But when I was about fifteen I
went alone to stay with Aunt Chriemhild and Aunt Els^, and
then I learned many things which in learning troubled me not a
little, but now that they are learned make me happier than before,
which our mother says is the way with most of God^s lessons.
Before these visits I had never left home ; and although Heinz
who had been away, and was also naturally more thrown with
other people as a boy than I was, often told me I knew no more
of actual life than a baby, I never understood what he meant
I suppose I had always unconsciously thought our father and
mother were the centre of the world to every one as well as to
us ; and had just been thankful for my lot in life, because I
believed in all respects no one else had an3rthing so good ; and
entertained a quiet conviction that in their hearts every one
thought the same. And to find that to other people our lot in
life seemed pitiable and poor, was an immense surprise to me,
and no little grief !
We left our old home in the forest many years since, when
Heinz and I were quite children ; and it only lingered in our
memories as a kind of Eden or fairy-land, where amongst wild
flowers, and green glades, and singing birds, and streams, we
made a home for all our dreams, not questioning, however, in
our hearts that our new home at Eisl'eben was quite as excellent
in its way. Have we not a garden behind the house with
several apple-trees, and a pond as large as any of our neigh-
bours, and an empty loft for wet days the perfection of a loft
^for telling fairy tales in, or making experiments, or preparing
surprises of wonderful cabinet work with Heinz's tools 1 And
has not our Eiskben valley also its green and wooded hills, and
in the forests around are there not strange glows all night from
the great miner's furnaces to which those of the charcoal burners
in the Thuringian forest are mere toys % And are there not,
Eva's Agnes's Story, 453
moreover, all kinds of wUd caverns and pits from which at in-
tervals the miners come forth, grimy and independent, and sing
their wild songs in chorus as they come home from work] And
is not Eisleben Dr. Luther's birth-place ? And have we not a
high grammar-school which Dr. Luther founded, and in which
our dear father teaches Latin % And do we not hear him preach
once every Sunday]
To me it always seemed, and seems still, that nothing can
be nobler than our dear father's office of telling the people the
way to heaven on Sundays, and teaching their children the way
to be wise and good on earth in the week. It was a great shock
to me when I found every one did not think the same.
Not that every one was not always most kind to me ; but it
happened in this way.
One day some visitors had been at Uncle Ulrich*s castle.
They had complimented me on my golden hair, which Heinz
always says is the colour of the princess' in the fair}' tale. I
went out at Aunt Chriemhild*s desire, feeling half shy and half
flattered, to play with my cousins in the forest. As I was
sitting hidden among the trees, twining wreaths from the forget-
me-nots my cousins were gathering by the stream below, these
ladies passed again. I heard one of them say,
" Yes, she is a well-mannered little thing for a schoolmaster's
daughter."
" I cannot think whence a buigher itaaiden the Cottas are
all burghers, are they not] ^should inherit those little white
hands and those delicate features," said the other.
"Poor, too, doubtless, as they must be!" was the reply, "one
would think' she had never had to work about the house, as no
doubt she must"
" Who was her grandfather ]"
" Only a printer at Wittemberg !"
" Only a schoolmaster !" and " only a printer !"
My whole heart rose against the scornful words. Was this
what people meant by paying compliments] Was this the
estimate my father was held in in the world he, the noblest
man in it, who was fit to be the Elector or the Emperor] A
bitter feeling came over me, which I thought was affection and
454 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
an aggrieved sense of justice. But love is scarcely so bitter, or
justice so fiery.
I did not tell any one, nor did I shed a tear, but went on
weaving my forget-me-not wreaths, and forswore the wicked
and hollow world. Had I not promised to do so long since,
through my godsponsers, at my baptism % Now, I thought, I
was learning what all that meant.
At Aunt Elsfe's, however, another experience awaited me.
There was to be a fair, and we were all to go in our best holi-
day dresses. My cousins had rich Oriental jewels on their
bodices; and although, as burgher maidens, they might not,
like my cousins at the castle, wear velvets, they had jackets and
dresses of the stiffest, richest silks, which Uncle Reichenbach
had sent for from Italy and the East.
My stuff dress certainly looked plain beside them, but I did
not care in the least for that ; my own dear mother and I had
made it together ; and she had hunted up some old precious
stores to make me a taffetas jacket, which, as it was the most
magnificent apparel I had ever possessed, we had both looked
at with much complacency. Nor did it seem to me in the least
less beautiful now. The touch of my mother's fingers had been
on it, as she smoothed it round me the evening before I came
away. And Aunt Elsfe had said it was exactly like my mother.
But my cousins were not quite pleased, it was evident ; espe-
cially Fritz and the elder boys. They said nothing ; but on the
morning of the f^te, a beautiful new dress, the counterpart of my
cousins*, was laid at my bedside before I awoke.
I put it on with some pleasure, but, when I looked at myself
in the glass ^it was very unreasonable I could not bear it.
It seemed a reproach on my mother, and on my humble life
and my dear, poor home at Eisleben, and I sat down and cried
bitterly, until a gentle knock at the door aroused me ; and
Aunt Elsfe came in, and found me sitting with tears on my
face and on the beautiful new dress, exceedingly ashamed of
myself.
" Don't you like it, my child % It was our Fritz's thought. I
was afraid you might not be pleased."
" My mother thought the old one good enough," I said in a
Eva's Agnes' s Story. 455
very faltering tone. " It was good enough for my home. I
had better go home again."
Aunt Elsb was carefully wiping away the tears from my dress,
but at these words she began to cry herself, and drew me to her
heart, and said it was exactly what she should have felt in her
young days at Eisenach, but that I must just wear the new dress
to the fSte, and then I need never wear it again unless I liked ;
and that I was right in thinking nothing half so good as my
mother, and all she did, because nothing ever was, or would be,
she was sure.
So we cried together, and were comforted ; and I wore the
green taffetas to the fair.
But when I came home again to Eisleben, I felt more ashamed
of myself than of the taffetas dress or of the flattering ladies at
the Castle. The dear, precious old home, in spite of all I could
persuade myself to the contrary, did look small and poor, and
the furniture worn and old. And yet I could see there new
traces of care and welcome ever3rwhere fresh rushes on the
floors; a new white quilt on my little bed, made, I knew, by
my mother's hands.
She knew very soon that I was feeling troubled about some-
thing, and soon she knew it all, as I told her my bitter expe-
riences of life.
"Your father *only a schoolmaster!'" she said, "and you
yourself presented with a new taffetas dress ! Are these all your
grievances, little Agnes'?"
^^ Ally mother!" I exclaimed; "and onlyT
" Is your father anything else but a schoolmaster, Agnes?" she
said.
"I am not ashamed of that for an instant, mother," I. said;
" you could not think it I think it is much nobler to teach
children than to hunt foxes, and buy and sell bales of silk and
wool. But the world seems to me exceedingly hollow and
crooked ; and I never wish to see any more of it Oh, mother,
do you think it was all nonsense in me?"
"I think, my child, you have had an encounter with, the
world, the flesh, and the devil ; and I think they are no con-
temptible enemies. And I think you have not left them behind."
4S6 Chronicles of the Sckdnberg-Cotta Family.
" But is not our father^s calling nobler than any one's, and
our home the nicest in the world?" I said ; " and Eisleben
really as beautiful in its way as the Thuringian forest, and as
wise as Wittemberg?"
" All callings may be noble," she said ; " and the one God calls
us to is the noblest for us. Eisleben is not, I think, as beauti-
ful as the old forest-covered hills at Gersdorf ; nor Luther's
birth-place as great as his dwelling-place, where he preaches and
teaches, and sheds around him the influence of his holy daily
life. Other homes may be as good as yours, dear child, though
none can be so to you."
And so I learned that what makes any calling noble is its
being commanded by God, and what makes anything good is
its being given by God ; and that contentment consists not in
persuading ourselves that our things are the very best in the
world, but in believing they are the best for us, and giving God
thanks for them.
That was the way I began to learn to know the world. And
also in that way I began better to understand the Catechism,
especially the part about the Lord's Prayer, and that on the
second article of the Creed, where we learn of Him who suffered
for our sins and redeemed us with his holy precious blood.
I have just returned from my second visit to Wittemberg,
which was much happier than my first ^indeed, exceedingly
happy.
The great delight of my visit, however, has been seeing and
hearing Dr. Luther. His little daughter, Magdalen, three
years younger than I am, had died not long before, but that
seemed only to make Dr. Luther kinder than ever to all young
maidens " the poor maidenkind," as he calls them.
His sermons seemed to me like a father talking to his children ;
and Aunt Elsfe says he repeats the Catechism often himself "to
God" to cheer his heart and strengthen himself the great Dr.
Martin Luther !
I had heard so much of him, and always thought, of him as
the man nearest God on earth, great with a majesty surpassing
infinitely that of the Elector or the Emperor. And now it was
a great delight to see him in his home, in the dark wainscoted
Eva's Agnes*s Story, 457
room looking on his garden, and to see him raise his head from
his writing and smile kindly at us as he sat at the gieat table in
the broad window, with Mistress Luther sewing on a lower seat
beside him, and little Margaretha Luther, the youngest child,
quietly pla3ring beside them, contented with a look now and
then from her father.
I should like to have seen Magdalen Luther. She must
have been such a good and loving child. But that will be here-
after in heaven !
I suppose my feeling for Dr. Luther is different from that of
my mother and father. They knew him during the conflict.
We only know him as the conqueror, with the palm, as it were,
already in his hand.
But my great friend at Wittemberg is Aunt Thekla. I think,
on the whole, there is no one I should more wish to be like.
She understands one in that strange way, without telling, like
my mother. I think it is because she has felt so much. Aunt
Elsfe told me of the terrible sorrow she had when she was
young.
Our dear mother and father also had their great sorrows,
although they came to the end of their sorrow in this life, and
Aunt Thekla will only come to the end of hers in the other
world. But it seems to have consecrated them all, I think, in
some peculiar way. They all, and Dr. Luther also, make me
think of the people who, they say, have the gift, by striking on
the ground, of discovering where the hidden springs lie that
others may know where to dig for the wells. Can sorrow only
confer this gift of knowing where to find the hidden springs in
the heart ? If so, it must be worth while to suffer. Only there
are just one or two sorrows which it seems almost impossible
to bear !
But, as our mother says, our Saviour has all the gifts in His
hands; and "the greatest gift" of all (in whose hands the
roughest tools can do the finest work) " is loveT And that is
just the gift every one of us may have without limit
XXXVI.
Cl^ehla's Slarg.
WiTTBMBBRG, 33// January 1546.
(R. LUTHER has left Wittemberg to-day for Eisleben,
his birth-place, to settle a dispute between the
Counts of Mansfeld concerning certain rights of
church patronage.
He left in good spirits, intending to return in a few days.
His three sons, John, Martin, and Paul, went with him.
Mistress Luther is anxious and depressed about his departure,
but we trust without especial cause, although he has often of
late been weak and suffering.
The dulness and silence which to me always seem to settle
down on Wittemberg in his absence are increased now doubt-
less by this wintry weather, and the rains and storms which
have been swelling the rivers to floods. He is, indeed, the true
father and king of our little world ; and when he is with us all
Germany and the world seem nearer us through his wide-seeing
mind and his heart that thrills to every touch of want or sorrow
throughout the world.
February.
Mistress Luther has told me to-day that Dr. Luther said
before he left he could "lie down on his deathbed with joy if
he could first see his dear Lords of Mansfeld reconciled." She
says also he has just concluded the Commentary on Genesis,
on which he has been working these ten years, with these words
" / am weak and can do no more. Pray God he may grant me
a peaceful and happy decUhr
She thinks his mind has been dwelling of late more than
usual, even with him, on death, and fears he feels some inward
premonition or presentiment of a speedy departure.
Thekla's Story, 459
. So long he has spoken of death as a thing to be desired !
Yet it always makes our hearts ache to hear him do so. Of
the Advent, as the end of all evil and the beginning of the
Kingdom, we can well bear to hear him speak, but not of that
which if the end of all evil to him, would seem like the begin-
ning of all sorrows to us.
Now, however, Mistress Luther is somewhat comforted by
his letters, which are more cheerful than those she received
during his absence last year, when he counselled her to sell all
their Wittemberg property, and take refuge in her estate at
Zollsdorf, that he might know her safe out of Wittemberg that
"haunt of selfishness and luxury" before he died.
His first letter since leaving Wittemberg this time is
addressed
" To my kind and dear Kathe Lutherin, at Wittembei^, grace
and peace in the Lord.
" Dear Kathe," ^To-day at half-past eight o'clock we reached
Halle, but have not yet arrived at Eisleben ; for a great ana-
baptist encountered us with water-floods and great blocks of
ice, which covered the land, and threatened to baptize us all
again. Neither could we return, on account of the Mulda.
Therefore we remain tranquilly here at Halle, between the two
streams. Not that we thirst for water to drink, but console
ourselves with good Torgau beer and Rhine wine, in case the
Saala should break out into a rage again. For we and our servants,
and the ferrymen, would not tempt God by venturing on the
water; for the devil is fiirious against us, and dwells in the
water-floods; and it is better to escape him than to complain of
him, nor is it necessary that we should become the jest of the
pope and his hosts. I could not have believed that the Saala
could have made. such a brewing, bursting over the causeway
and all. Now no more ; but pray for us and be pious. I hold,
hadst thou been here, thou hadst counselled us to do precisely
what we have done. So for once we should have taken thy advice.
Herewith I commend you to God. Amen. At Halle, on the day
of the Conversion of St Paul. Martinus Luther."
Four other letters she has received, one dated on the 2d of
February, addressed
460 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family.
"To my heartily beloved consort Katherin Lutherin, the
ZoUsdorfian doctoress, proprietress of the Saiimarkt, and what-
ever else she may be, grace and peace in Christ; and my old
poor (and, as I know, powerless) love to thee !
" Dear Kathe, I became very weak on the road close to
Eisleben, for my sins; although, wert thou there, thou wouldst
have said it was for the sins of the Jews. For near Eisleben
we passed through a village where many Jews reside, and it is
true, as I came through it, a cold wind came through my Baret
(doctor's hat), and my head, as if it would turn my brain to
ice.
" Thy sons left Mansfeld yesterday, because Hans von Jene
so humbly entreated them to accompany him. I know not
what they do. If it were cold, they might help me freeze
here. Since, however, it is warm again, they may do or suflfer
anything else they like. Herewith I commend you and all the
house to God, and greet all our friends. Vigilia purificationis."
And again
ElSLBBBK.
" To the deeply learned lady Katherin Lutherin, my gracious
consort at Wittemberg, grace and peace.
" Dear Kathe, ^We sit here and suffer ourselves to be tor-
tured, and would gladly be away; but that cannot be, I think,
for a week. Thou mayest say to Master Philip that he may
correct his exposition ; for he has not yet rightly understood
why the Lord called riches thorns. Here is the school in
which to learn that" (i., the Mansfeld controversies about
property). " But it dawns on me that in the Holy Scriptures
thorns are always menaced with fire ; therefore I have all the
more patience, hoping, with God's help, to bring some good out
of it all It seems to me the devil laughs at us; but God laughs
him to scorn ! Amen. Pray for us. The messenger hastes.
On St Dorothea's day. M. L. (thy old lover)."
Dr. Luther seems to be enjoying himself in his own simple
hearty way, at his old home. Nobles and buighers give him
the most friendly welcome.
The third letter Mistress Luther has received is full of play-
ful tender answers to her anxieties about him.
Thekla^s Story. 461
" To my dear consort Katherin Lutherin, docloress and self-
tormentor at Wittembergy my gracious lady, grace and peace in
the Lord.
" Read thou, dear Kathe, the Gospel of John, and the smaller
Catechism, and then thou wilt say at once, 'All that in the book
is said of me.' For thou must needs take the cares of thy God
upon thee, as if He were not almighty, and could not create
ten Doctor Martins, if the one old Doctor Martin were drowned
in the Saala. Leave me in peace with thy cares ! I have a
better guardian than thou and all the angels. It is He who
lay in the manger, and was fondled on a maiden's breast ; but
who sitteth also now on the right hand of God the Almighty
Father. Therefore be at peace."
And again
" To tiie saintly anxious lady, Katherin Lutherin, Doctorin
Zulsdorferin at Wittemberg, my gracious dear wife, grace and
peace in Christ.
" Most saintly lady Doctoress, ^We thank your ladyship kindly
for your great anxiety and care for us which prevented your
sleeping ; for since the time that you had this care for us, a fire
nearly consumed us in our inn, close by my chamber door; and
yesterday (doubtless by the power of your care), a stone almost
fell on our head, and crushed us as in a mouse-trap. For in
our private chamber during more than two days, lime and
mortar crashed above us, until we sent for workmen, who only
touched the stone with two fingers, when it fell, as large as a
large pillow two hand-breadths wide. For all this we should
have to thank your anxiety; had not the dear holy angels been
guarding us also ! I begin to be anxious that if your anxieties
do not cease, at last the earth may swallow us up, and all the
elements pursue us. Dost thou indeed teach the Catechism
and the creed? Do thou then pray and leave God to care, as
it is promised. *Cast thy burden on the Lord, and he shall
sustain thee.'
" We would now gladly be free and journey homewards, if
God willed it so. Amen. Amen. Amen. On Scholastica's
Day. The willing servant of your holiness,
" Martin Luther."
462 Chronicks of the Schonberg-Coita Family.
Tfik.
Good news for us all at ^Vittembeig! Mistress Luther has
leceired a letter fixim the docUx^ dated the i4tfa Febroaiy,
annoancuig his speedy letiuu :
** To 1117 kind dear wife Katharin Lotheini von Bora, at Wit-
teinbei)g^
** Grace and peace in the Lord, dear Kathe ! We hope this
week to come home again, if God wiH God has shown us
great grace; Ux the lords have arranged aU through didr
l e fi gee s, except two ot three articles one of whidi is that
Count Gebhard and Count Albrecht should again become
brothers, which I undertake to-da j, and will invite them to be
my guests, that they may ^eak to each other, for hitherto they
have been dumb, and have embittered one another with severe
letters.
^ The young men are all in the best qnrits, make excursions
with fools' beUs on sledges die young ladies also and amuse
themselves together; and among them also Count Gebhaid^s
son. So we must undeistand God is exaadtor precumL.
** I send to thee some game whidi the Countess Albrecht
has presented to me. She rejoices with all her heart at the
peace. Thy sons are still at Mansfeld. Jacob Luther will
take good care of theoL We have food and drink here like
noblemen, and we are waited on well too well, indeed ^so
that we might foiget you at Wittemberg. I have no ailments.
** This thou canst show to Master Philip, to Doctor Pomer,
and to Doctor Creuzer. The report has reaidied this place that
Doctor Martin has been * snatdied away' (/.&, by the devil), as
they say at Magdebuig and at Leipzig. Such fictions diese
countiymen compose, who see as fiir as their noses. Some say
the emperor is thirty miles from this, at Soest, in Westphalia;
some that the Frenchman is c^tive, and also the Landgrave
But let at sing and say, we will wut what God die Lord will
do. ^Eisleben, on the Sunday ValentinL M. Luther, D."
So the work of peace-making is done, and Dr. Luther is to
return to us this week long, we trust, to enjoy among us the
peace-makei's beatitude.
vzc
XXXVII.
ElSLBBBN, 1546.
|T has been quite a festival day at Eisleben. The child
who, sixty-three years since, was bom here to John
Luther the miner, returns to-day the greatest man in
the empire, to arbitrate in a family dispute of the Counts of
Mansfeld.
As Eva and I watched him enter the town to-day from the
door of our humble happy home, she said,
" He that is greatest among you shall be as he that doth
serve."
These ten last years of service have, however, aged him
much!
I could not conceal from myself that they had. There are
traces of suflfejing on the expressive face, and there is a touch of
feebleness in the form and step.
" How is it," I said to Eva, " that Ehh or Thekla did not
tell us of this 1 He is certainly much feebler."
" They are always with him," she said, " and we never see
what Time is doing, love ; but only what he has done."
Her words made me thoughtful Could it be that such
changes were passing on us also, and that we were failing to
observe them]
When Dr. Luther and the throng had passed, we returned
into the house, and Eva resumed her knitting, while I recom-
menced the study of my sermon ; but secretly I raised my eyes
from my books and surveyed her. If time had indeed thus
been changing that beloved form, it was better I should know
it, to treasure more the precious days he was so treacherously
stealing.
464 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
Yet scarcely, with the severest scrutiny, could I detect the
trace of age or suffering on her face or form. The calm brow
was as white and calm as ever. The golden hair, smoothly
braided unde^; her white matronly cap, was as free from grey as
even our Agnes', who was flitting in and out of the winter sun-
shine, busy with household work in the next room. There was
a roundness on the cheek, although, perhaps, its curve was a
little changed; and when she looked up, and met my eyes, was
there not the very same happy, childlike smile as ever, that
seemed to overflow from a world of sunshine within)
"No 1" I said; " gva, thank God, I have not deluded my-
self I Time has not stolen a march on you yet"
" Think how I have been shielded, Fritz," she said. ** What
a sunny and sheltered life mine has been, never encountering
any storm except under the shelter of such a home and such
love. But Dr. Luther has been so long the one foremost and
highest, on whose breast the first force of every storm has
burst"
Just then our Heinz came in.
" Your father is trying to prove I am not growing old," she
said.
" Who said such a thing of our motherl" asked Heinz, turn-
ing fiercely to Agnes.
" No one," I said; "but it startled me to see the change in
Dr. Luther, and I began to fear what changes might have been
going on unobserved in our own home.*'
" Is Dr. Luther much changed?" said Heinz. " I think I
never saw a nobler face, so resolute and true, and with such a
keen glance in his dark eyes. He might have been one of the
emperor's greatest generals ^he looks so like a veteran."
" Is he not a veteran, Heinz?" said Eva. " Has he not
fought all our battles for us for years? What did you think of
him, Agnes?"
" I remember best the look Jie gave my father and you," she
said. "His face looked so full of kindness; I thought how
happy he must make his home."
That evening was naturally a time, with Eva and me, for
going over the past And how much of it is linked with Dr.
Fritz's Story. 465
L.uther! That our dear home exists at all is, through God, his
work. And more even than that: the freedom and peace of
our hearts came to us chiefly at first through him. All the past
came back to me when I saw his face again ; as if suddenly
flashed on me from a mirror. The da)rs when he sang before
Aunt Ursula Cotta*s door at Eisenach ^when the voice which
has since stirred all Christendom to its depths sang carols for a
piece of bread. Then the gradual passing away of the outward
trials of poverty, through his father's prosperity and liberality
the brilliant prospects opening before him at the university
his sudden, yet deliberate closing of all those earthly schemes
the descent into the dark and bitter waters, where he fought
the fight for his age, and, all but sinking, found the Hand that
saved him, and came to the shore again on the right side ; and
not alone, but upheld evermore by the hand that rescued him,
and which he has made known to the hearts of thousands.
Then I seemed to see him stand before the emperor at
Worms, in that day when men did not know whether to wonder
most at his gentleness or his daring ^in that hour which men
thought was his hour of conflict, but which was in truth his
hour of triumph, after the real battle had been fought and the
real victory won.
And now twenty years more had passed away; the Bible has
been translated by him into German, and is speaking in count-
less homes ; homes hallowed, (and, in many instances, created)
by his teaching.
" What then," said Eva, " has been gained by his teaching
and his worki"
" The yoke of tradition, and of the Papacy, is broken," I said.
" The gospel is preached in England, and, with more or less
result, throughout Germany. In Denmark, an evangelical pastor
has consecrated King Christian III. In the low countries, and
elsewhere, men and women have been martyred, as in the pri-
mitive ages, for the faith. In France and in Switzerland evan-
gelical truth has been embraced by tens of thousands, although
not in Dr. Luther's form, nor only from his lips."
" These are great results," she replied ; " but they are external
at least, we can only see the outside of them. What fruit is
30
466 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
there in this little world, around us at Eisleben, of whose heart
we know something]"
" The golden age is, indeed, not come," I said, " or the
Counts of Mansfeld would not be quarrelling about church
patronage, and needing Dr. Luther as a peace-maker. Nor
would Dr. Luther need so continually to warn the rich against
avarice, and to denounce the selfishness which spent thousands
of florins to buy exemption from future punishment, but grudges
a few kreuzers to spread the glad tidings of the grace of God.
If covetousness is idolatry, it is too plain that the Reformation
has, with many, only changed the idoL"
"Yet," replied Eva, "it is certainly something to have the
idol removed from the Church to the market, to have it called
by a despised instead of by a hallowed name, and disguised in
any rather than in sacred vestments."
Thus we came to the conclusion that the Reformation had
done for us what sunrise does. It had wakened life, and
ripened real fruits of heaven in many places, and it had revealed
evil and noisome things in their true forms. The world, the
flesh, and the devil remain unchanged ; but it is much to have
learned that the world is not a certain definite region outside
the cloister, but an atmosphere to be guarded against as around
us everywhere; that the flesh is not the love of kindred or of
nature, but oi self in these, and that the devil's most fiery dart is
distrust of God. For us personally, and ours, how infinitely
much Dr. Luther has done; and if for us and ours, how much
for countless other hearts and homes unknown to us !
Monday f Febrtuiry 15, 1543.
Dr. Luther adminstered the communion yesterday, and
preached. It has been a great help to have him going in and
out among us. Four times he has preached; it seems to us,
with as much point and fervour as ever. To-day, however,
there was a deep solemnity about his words. His text was in
Matt xi., "Fear not, therefore; for there is nothing covered
that shall not be revealed, and hid that shall not be known.
What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light; and what
ye hear in the ear, that preach ye on the house-tops. And fear
Fritz's Story, ^6j
not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul;
but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body
in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing] And one
of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But
the very hairs of your head are all numbered." He must have
felt feebler than he seemed, for he closed with the words
"This, and much more, may be said from the passage; but
I am too weak, and here we will closed
Eva seemed very grave all the rest of the day; and when I
returned from the school on this morning, she met me with an
anxious face at the door, and said
"Is the doctor better]"
" I have not heard that he is ill," I said. " He was engaged
with the arbitration again to-day.
" I cannot get those words of his out of my head," she
said; "they haunt me ^ Here we wUl dose! I cannot help
thinking what it would be never to hear that faithful voice
again."
" You are depressed, my love," I said, " at the thought of
Dr. Luther's leaving us this week. But by-and-by we will stay
some little time at Wittemberg, and hear him again there."
" If God will I " she said gravely. " What God has given us,
through him, can never be taken away."
I have inquired again about him, however, frequently to-day,
but there seems no cause for anxiety. He retired from the
Great Hall where the conferences and the meals take place, at
eight o'clock; and this evening, as often before during his visit,
Dr. Jonas overheard him praying aloud at the window of his
chamber.
Thursday t xZih February.
The worst the very worst ^has come to pass 1 The faithful
voice is, indeed, silenced to us on earth for ever.
Here where the life began it has closed. He who, sixty three
years ago, lay here a little helpless babe, lies here again a life-
less corpse. Yet it is not with sixty-three years ago, but with
three days since that we feel the bitter contrast. Three days
ago he was among us the counsellor, the teacher, the messenger
of God, and now that heart, so open, so tender to sympathize
468 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family,
with sorrows, and so strong to bear a nation's burden, has
ceased to beat
Yesterday it was observed that he was feeble and ailing.
The Princes of Anhalt and the Count Albert of Mansfeld, with
Dr. Jonas and his other friends, entreated him to rest in his own
room during the morning. He was not easily persuaded to
spare himself, and probably would not have yielded then, had
he not felt that the work of reconciliation was accomplished, in
all save a few supplementary details. Much of the forenoon,
therefore, he reposed on a leathern couch in his room, occasion-
ally rising, with the restlessness of illness, and pacing the room,
or standing in the window prajdng, so that Dr. Jonas and
Coelius, who were in another part of the room, could hear him.
He dined, however, at noon, in the Great Hall, with those as-
sembled there. At dinner he said to some near him, " If I can,
indeed, reconcile the rulers of my birth-place with each other,
and then, with God's permission, accomplish the journey back
to Wittemberg, I would go home and lay myself down to sleep
in my grave, and let the worms devour my body."
He was not one weakly to sigh for sleep before night; and
we now know too well from how deep a sense of bodily weari-
ness and weakness that wish sprang. Tension of heart and
mind, and incessant work, the toil of a daily mechanical
labourer, with the keen, continuous thought of the highest
thinker, ^working as much as any drudging slave, and as
intensely as if all he did was his delight, at sixty-three the
strong, peasant frame was worn out as most men's are at eighty,
and he longed for rest.
In the afternoon he complained of painful pressure on the
breast, and requested that it might be rubbed with warm cloths.
This relieved him a little; and he went to supper again with his
friends in the Great Hall. At table he spoke much of eternity,
and said he believed his own death was near; yet his con-
versation was not only cheerful, but at times gay, although it
related chiefly to the future world. One near him asked
whether departed saints would recognise each other in heaven.
He said. Yes, he thought they would.
When he left the supper-table he went to his room.
Fritz's Story, 469
In the night, ^last night, ^his two sons, Paul and Martin,
thirteen and fourteen years of age, sat up to watch with him,
with Justus Jonas, whose joys and sorrows he had shared
through so many years. Coelius and Aurifaber also were with
him. The pain in the breast returned, and again they tried rub-
bing him with hot cloths. Count Albert came, and the Countess,
with two physicians, and brought him some shavings from the
tusk of a sea-unicorn, deemed a sovereign remedy. He took it,
and slept till ten. Then he awoke, and attempted once more
to pace the room a little; but he could not, and returned to
bed. Then he slept again till one. During those two or three
hours of sleep, his host Albrecht, with his wife, Ambrose, Jonas,
and Luther's son, watched noiselessly beside him, quietly keep-
ing up the fire. Everything depended on how long he slept,
and how he woke.
The first words he spoke when he awoke sent a shudder of
apprehension through their hearts.
He complained of cold, and asked them to pile up more fire.
Alas ! the chill was creeping over him which no effort of man
could remove.
Dr. Jonas asked him if he felt very weak.
"Oh," he replied, "how I suffer! My dear Jonas, I think I
shall die here, at Eisleben, where I was bom and baptized."
His other fiiends were awakened, and brought in to his bed-
side.
Jonas spoke of the sweat on his brow as a hopeful sign, but
Dr. Luther answered
" It is the cold sweat of death. I must }aeld up my spirit,
for my sickness increaseth."
Then he prayed fervently, saying
" Heavenly Father ! everlasting and merciful God ! thou hast
revealed to me thy dear Son, our Lord Jesus Christ Him have
I taught; Him have I experienced; Him have I confessed;
Him I love and adore as my beloved Saviour, Sacrifice, and
Redeemer Him whom the godless persecute, dishonour, and
reproach. O heavenly Father, though I must resign my body,
and be borne away fi*om this life, I know that I shall be with
Him for ever. Take my poor soul up to Thee !"
470 Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family.
Afterwards he took a little medicine, and, assuring his friends
that he was dying, said three times
"Father, into thy hands do I commend my spirit Thou
hast redeemed me, thou faithful God. Truly God hath so loved
the world r
Then he lay quite quiet and motionless. Those around
sought to rouse him, and began to rub his chest and limbs, and
spoke to him, but he made no reply. Then Jonas and Coelius,
for the solace of the many who had received the truth from his
lips, spoke aloud, and said
" Venerable father, do you die trusting in Christ, and in the
doctrine you have constantly preached T'
He answered by an audible and joyful " Yes ! "
That was his last word on earth. Then turning on his right
side, he seemed to fall peaceably asleep for a quarter of an hour.
Once more hope awoke in the hearts of his children and his
friends; but the physician told them it was no favourable symptom.
A light was brought near his face ; a death-like paleness was
creeping over it, and his hands and feet were becoming cold.
Gently once more he sighed ; and, with hands folded on his
breast, yielded up his spirit to God without a struggle.
This was at four o'clock in the morning of the i8th of February.
And now, in the house opposite the church where he was
baptized, and signed with the cross for the Christian warfare,
Martin Luther lies ^his warfare accomplished, his weapons laid
aside, his victory won at rest beneath the standard he has
borne so nobly. In the place where his eyes opened on this
earthly life his spirit has awakened to the heavenly life. Often
he used to speak of death as the Christian's true birth, and of this
life as but a growing into the chrysalis-shell in which the spirit
lives till its being is developed, and it bursts the shell, casts off
the web, struggles into life, spreads its wings and soars up to God.
To Eva and me it seems a strange, mysterious seal set on his
faith, that his birth-place and his place of death the scene of
his nativity to earth and heaven should be the same.
We can only say, amidst irrepressible tears, those words
often on his lips, " O death I bitter to those whom thou leavest
in life 1" and " Fear not, God liveth stills
XXXVIII.
March 1546.
i|T is all over. The beloved, revered form is with us
again, but Luther our father, our pastor, our friend,
will never be amongst us more. His ceaseless toil
and care for us all have worn him out, the care which wastes
life more than sorrow, care such as no man knew since the
apostle Paul, which only faith such as St Paul's enabled him
to sustain so long.
This morning his widow, his orphan sons and daughter, and
many of the students and citizens went out to the Eastern Gate
of the city to meet the funeral procession. Slowly it passed
through the streets, so crowded, yet so silent, to the city church
where he used to preach.
Fritz came with the procession from Eisleben, and Eva, with
Heinz and Agnes, are also with us, for it seemed a necessity to
us all once more to feel and see our beloved around us, now
that death has shown us the impotence of a nation's love to
retain the life dearest ana most needed of all.
Fritz has been telling us of that mournful funeral journey
from Eisleben.
The Counts of Mansfeld, with more than fifty horsemen, and
many princes, counts, and barons, accompanied the coffin. In
every village through which they passed the church-bells tolled as
if for the prince of the land ; at every city gate magistrates,
clergy, young and old, matrons, maidens, and little children,
thronged to meet the procession, clothed in mourning, and
chanting funeral hymns German evangelical hymns of hope
and trust, such as he had taught them to sing. In the last
church in which it lay before reaching its final resting-place at
4/2 Ckronicles of the Scltonberg-Cotta Family,
Wittemberg, the people gathered around it, and sang one of his
own hymns, "I journey hence in peace," with voices broken
by sobs and floods of tears.
Thus day and night the silent body was borne slowly through
the Thuringian land. The peasants once more remembered
his faithful affection for them, and ever)rwhere, from village and
hamlet, and from every little group of cottages, weeping men
and women pressed forward to do honour to the poor remains
of him they had so often misunderstood in life.
After Pastor Bugenhagen*s funeral sermon from Luther's pul-
pit, Melancthon spoke a few words beside the coffin in the city
church. They loved each other well. When Melancthon heard
of his death he was most deeply affected, and said in the lecture-
room,
" The doctrine of the forgiveness of sins and of faith in the
Son of God, has not been discovered by any human understand-
ing, but has been revealed unto us by God through this man
whom he has raised up."-
In the city church, beside the coffin, before the body was
lowered into its last resting-place near the pulpit where he
preached. Dr. Melancthon pronounced these words in Latin,
which Caspar Creutziger immediately translated into German,
" Every one who truly knew him, must bear witness that he
was a benevolent, charitable man, gracious in all his discourse,
kii/dly and most worthy of love, and neither rash, passionate,
self-willed, or ready to take oflfence. And, nevertheless, there
were also in him an earnestness and courage in his words and
bearing such as become a man like hinL His heart was true
and faithful, and without falsehood. The severity which he used
against the foes of the doctrine in his writings did not proceed
from a quarrelsome or angry disposition, but from great earnest-
ness and zeal for the truth. He always showed a high courage
and manhood, and it was no little roar of the enemy which could
appal him. Menaces, dangers, and terror dismayed him not
So high and keen was his understanding, that he alone in com-
plicated, dark, and difficult affairs soon perceived what was to
be counselled and to be done. Neither, as some think, was he
regardless of authority, but diligently regarded the mind and
Els^s Story. 473
will of those with whom he had to do. His doctrine did not
consist in rebellious opinions made known with violence ; it is
rather an interpretation of the divine will and of the true worship
of God, an explanation of the word of God, namely of the gospel
of Christ. Now he is united with the prophets of whom he
loved to talk. Now they greet him as their fellow-labourer, and
with him praise the Lord who gathers and preserves his Church.
But we must retain a perpetual, undying recollection of this our
beloved father, and never let his memory fade frofti our hearts."
His effigy will be placed in the city church, but his living
portrait is enshrined in countless hearts. His monuments are
the schools throughout the land, every hallowed pastor^s home,
and above all, " the German Bible for the German people ! "
WiTTEMBERG, April 1547.
We stand now in the foremost rank of the generations of our
time. Our father's house on earth has passed away for ever.
Gently, not long after Dr. Luther's death, our gentle mother
passed away, and our father entered on the fulfilment of those
never-failing hopes to which, since his blindness, his buoyant
heart has learned more and more to cling.
Scarcely separated a year from each other, both in extreme
old age, surrounded by all dearest to them on earth, they fell
asleep in Jesus.
And now Fritz, who has an appointment at the university,
lives in the paternal house with his Eva and our Thekla, and
the children.
Of all our family I sometimes think Thekla's life is the most
blessed. In our evangelical church, also, I perceive, God by
his providence makes nuns ; good women, whose wealth of love
is poured out in the Church ; whose inner as well as whose outer
circle is the family of God. How many whom she has trained
in the school and nursed in the seasons of pestilence or adver-
sity, live on earth to call her blessed, or live in heaven to receive
her into the everlasting habitations !
And among the reasons why her life is so high and loving, no
doubt one is, that socially her position is one not of exaltation
but of lowliness.
474 Chronicles of the Schdnberg-Cotta Family,
She has not replaced, by any conventional dignities of tlic
cloister, God's natural dignities of wife and mother. Through
life hers has been the loivest place ; wherefore, among other rea-
sons, I oft think in heaven it may be the highest But we shall
not grudge it her, Eva and Chriemhild and Atlantis and I.
With what joy shall we see those meek and patient brows
crowned with the brightest crowns of glory and immortal
joy!
The little garden behind the Augustei has become a sacred
place. Luther's widow and children still live there. Those who
knew him, and therefore loved him best, find a sad pleasure in
lingering under the shadow of the trees which used to shelter
him, beside the fountain and the little fish-pond which he made,
and the flowers he planted, and recalling his words and his fami-
liar ways ; how he used to thank God for the fish from the pond,
and the vegetables sent to his table from the garden ; how he
used to wonder at the providence of God, who fed the sparrows
and all the little birds, " which must cost him more in a year
than the revenue of the king of France ; " how he rejoiced in the
" dew, that wonderful work of God," and the rose, which no
artist could imitate, and the voice of the birds. How living
the narratives of the Bible became when he spoke of them 1
of the great apostle Paul whom he so honoured, but pictured as
" an insignificant-looking, meagre man, like Philip Melancthon ;"
or of the Virgin Mary, " who must have been a high and noble
creature, a fair and gracious maiden, with a kind sweet voice ; "
or of the lowly home at Nazareth, " where the Saviour of the
world was brought up as a little obedient child."
And not one of us, with all his vehemence, could ever remem-
ber a jealous or suspicious word, or a day of estrangement, so
generous and trustful was his nature.
Often, also, came back to us the tones of that rich, true voice,
and of the lute or lyre, which used so frequently to sound hovsx
the dwelling-room with the large window, at his friendly enter-
tainments, or in his more solitary hours.
Then, in twilight hours of quiet, intimate converse, Mistress
Luther can recall to us the habits of his more inner home life
how in his sicknesses he used to comfort her, and when she was
Else's Story, 475
weeping would say, with irrepressible tears, " Dear Kathe, our
children trust us, though they cannot understand ; 'so must we
trust God. It is well if we do ; all comes from him." And his
prayers morning and evening, and frequently at meals and at
other times in the day his devout repeating of the Smaller
Catechism "to God" ^his frequent fervent utterance of the
Lord's prayer, or of psalms from the Psalter, which he always
carried with him as a pocket prayer-book. Or, at other times,
she may speak reverently of his hours of conflict, when his
prayers became a tempest z torrent of vehement supplication
a wrestling with God, a son in agony at the feet of a father.
Or, again, of his sudden wakings in the night, to encounter the
unseen devil with fervent prayer, or scornful defiance, or words
of truth and faith.
More than one among us knew what reason he had to believe
in the efficacy of prayer. Melancthon, especially, can never
forget the day when he lay at the point of death, half unconsci-
ous, with eyes growing dim, and Luther came and exclaimed
with dismay,
" God save us ! how successfully has the devil misused this
mortal frame ! "
And then turning from the company towards the window, to
pray, looking up to the heavens, he came (as he himself said
afterwards), "as a mendicant and a suppliant to God, and pressed
him with all the promises of the Holy Scriptures he could re-
call ; so that God must hear me, if ever again I should trust his
promises."
After that prayer, he took Melancthon by the hand, and said,
" Be of good cheer, Philip, you will not die." And from that
moment Melancthon began to revive and recover consciousness,
and was restored to health.
Especially, however, we treasure all he said of death and the
resurrection, of heaven and the future world of righteousness and
joy, of which he so delighted to speak. A few of these sayings
I may record for my children.
" In the Papacy, they made pilgrimages to the shrines of the
saints to Rome, Jerusalem, St. Jago to atone for sins. But
now, we in faith can make true pilgrimages, which really please
4/6 Chronicles of the Sdidnberg-Cotta Family.
God. When we diligently read the prophets, psalms, and evan-
gelists, we journey towards God, not through cities of the saints,
but in our thoughts and hearts, and visit the true Promised Land
and Paradise of everlasting life.
" The devil has sworn our death, but he will crack a deaf nut.
The kernel will be gone."
He had so often been dangerously ill that the thought of death
was very familiar to him. In one of his sicknesses he said, " I
know I shall not live long. My brain is like a knife worn to the
hilt ; it can cut no longer."
" At Coburg I used to go about and seek for a quiet place
where I might be buried, and in the chapel under the cross I
thought I could lie well But now I am worse than then. God
grant me a happy end ! I have no desire to live longer."
When asked if people could be saved under the Papacy who
had never heard his doctrine of the gospel, he said, " Many a
monk have I seen, before whom, on his death-bed, they held
the crucifix, as was then the custom. Through faith in His
merits and passion, they may, indeed, have been saved."
" What is our sleep," he said, " but a kind of death 1 And
what is death itself but a night sleep % In sleep all weariness is
laid aside, and we become cheerful again, and rise in the morn-
ing fresh and well. So shall we awake from our graves in the
last day, as though we had only slept a night, and bathe our
eyes and rise fresh and well.
" I shall rise," he said, " and converse with you again. This
finger, on which is this ring, shall be given to me again. All
must be restored. ' God will create new heavens and a new
earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.' There all will be pure
rapture and joy. Those heavens and that earth m^ill be no dry,
barren sand. When a man is happy, a tree, a nosegay, a flower,
can give him gladness. Heaven and earth will be renewed, and
we who believe shall be ever)rwhere at home. Here it is not so ;
we are driven hither and thither, that we may have to sigh for
that heavenly fatherland."
" When Christ causes the trumpet to peal at the last day, all
will come forth like the insects which in winter lie as dead, but
when the sun comes, awake to life again ; or as the birds who
Else's Story. 477
lie all the winter hidden in clefts of the roclcs, or in hollow banks
by the river sides, yet live again in the spring."
He said at another time, " Go into the garden, and ask the
cheny-tree how it is possible that from a dry, dead twig, can
spring a litde bud, and from the bud can grow cherries. Go
into the house and ask the matron how it can be that from the
eggs under the hen living chickens will come forth. For if God
does thus with cherries and birds, canst thou not honour him
by trusting that if he let the winter come over thee suffer thee
to die and decay in the ground he can also, in the true sum-
mer, bring thee forth again from the earth, and awaken thee
from the dead J "
"O gracious God !" he exclaimed, "come quickly, come at
last ! I wait ever for that day that morning of spring ! "
And he waits for it still. Not now, indeed, on earth, " in
what kind of place we know not," as he said ; " but most surely
free from all grief and pain, resting in peace and in the love and
grace of God."
We also wmt for that Day of Redemption, still in the weak
flesh and amidst the storm and the conflict ; but strong and
peaceful in the truth Martin Luther taught us, and in the God
he trusted to the last.