CHAPTER XIII.

"AS DYING, AND, BEHOLD, WE LIVE."

In the early dawn of a hot summer's day--the 6th of July, 1527--a woman hurried through the streets of Wittenberg, and knocked at the door of the town-preacher, Bugenhagen. With anxious haste she entered the study of the reverend gentleman.

"Dear Doctor, I beg of you, for Christ's sake, come with me; my dear husband is in great anguish, and I am sorely troubled. Perhaps you may be better able, than I, to comfort him."

Bugenhagen, greatly alarmed, inquired more particularly into the condition of his friend.

Mistress Katharine, still panting from her hurried walk--for the sick man was no other than Dr. Martin Luther--replied: "His head is confused, and frightful visions arise before him. He imagines that the Devil is besetting him, who seeks to put him to shame, and to destroy the work of his life. Although I have endeavored to soothe him with loving words, he seems not to hear me, and refuses food and drink. In January he suffered in a like manner, but a tea of herbs restored him. This time my simple remedies have been without effect."

Bugenhagen listened with painful interest. "Do not despair, dear Mistress Luther," he said; "it is not the Devil who is at work, but his sluggish blood, which rises to his head and produces these illusions. I can easily explain the cause. His body is taking its revenge for the sins committed against it, when in the convent, out of ignorance, and from mistaken piety, he undermined his health with watching, fasting and otherwise mortifying the flesh. He sits too closely over his books, denies himself the needed recreation, and tortures his brain with overmuch study and thought. The world's enmity against the truth causes him much sorrow; the miserable peasants' war has grieved his generous spirit, and the dispute with the Swiss sacramentarians is not yet ended. All these things have given him many sad hours. But with God's help, it will pass over. I will go with you, and do what I can."

They at once repaired to the convent. The servants stood about, in anxious fear, and regarded with dismay the town-preacher, who was also Luther's confessor.

Bugenhagen found the sick man reclining in a chair, his arms hanging listlessly at his side. His friendly greeting was received with a dreary smile.

"You are heartily welcome, dear Bugenhagen. I longed to see you, that I might unburden my heart, and receive absolution. Behold, whatsoever sins I have committed during my life, in thought, word and deed, rest like a weight upon my soul, and I pray God, for Christ's sake, to have mercy on a poor sinner. Dear Bugenhagen, give me God's assurance that I shall find grace with the ever-living Father of mercies."

Deeply moved, Bugenhagen gave him absolution, and then inquired into the nature of his malady.

"Dear Dr. Gommer," Luther replied, "the torments which are now besetting me remind me of St. Paul, when he was buffeted by the messengers of Satan; for such ills there seems to be no natural cause. Because I am usually of a cheerful countenance, many think that my path is strewn with roses; but God knows how it is with me."

Bugenhagen repeated the arguments, with which he had sought to reassure Mistress Kate, but they made little impression on the sick man.

Bugenhagen then reminded Luther of the invitation they had both received, to breakfast with the Elector's marshal, Hans Loser. "The society of these men, and the fresh air will do you good. I pray you, Martin, rouse yourself." Katharine's eloquence was added to that of Bugenhagen, and finally Luther yielded to their united persuasions.

At the inn, where the breakfast was served, a chosen company was assembled. Luther ate little, but forced himself to join in the conversation. At noon he left quietly, and went to his friend Justus Jonas, the provost of All Saints' School. He sat for two hours, pouring out his heart to his friend, for Jonas was a man of wise counsel and loving sympathy. Before leaving, Luther invited his friend to visit him in the evening. When Jonas arrived at the appointed time, he found the Doctor lying on his bed, complaining of great weakness, and a constant rushing and singing in his left ear. Feeling a sudden faintness, Luther called for water, which Jonas brought and dashed into his face. This seemed to revive the sufferer. He lay back among the pillows, with wide open eyes. But suddenly his face changed; his body grew cold, and shook as in an ague fit. With difficulty he folded his hands, and a fervent prayer rose from his lips:

"My God, if thou hast ordained this to be my last hour, I submit myself to Thy Will. O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure. Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak: O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed. My soul is also sore vexed: But Thou, O Lord, how long? Return, O Lord, deliver my soul: Oh save me, for Thy mercy's sake. For in death there is no remembrance of Thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks? I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears. Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old, because of all mine enemies. Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity, for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer. Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly. Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. Amen."

While he was praying, Katharine had entered the room, bringing with her Augustin Schurf, the family physician, who at once ordered the patient to be wrapped in heated cloths. Luther seemed to observe nothing of what was passing. His thoughts were with God, and his eyes were turned heavenward. Again he prayed, and all folded their hands in tearful reverence:

"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. I lay me down in peace and sleep; for Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety. Lord Jesus Christ receive my spirit. I take refuge in Thy wounds; Thy righteousness upholds me,--Thou art our only Mediator and High Priest, who bearest the sins of the world. Dear Lord, Thou hast not counted Thy servant worthy, after the manner of the blessed martyrs, to shed his blood for Thee; yet will I take comfort in the example of St. John, to whom also this boon was denied, albeit he wrote a book against the Antichrist, far more effective than any book of mine!"

Turning to his friends, he continued: "Dear, faithful friends; lest after my death the world should say I had recanted, I ask you to witness this my confession. I declare, with a clear conscience, that I have taught none but the true and wholesome doctrine, concerning faith, love, the cross, the sacraments, and other articles of the Christian religion, according to God's Word and at His command, Who alone has guided me in this matter, and has drawn and urged me forward, without any will of mine. I testify to those who have reproached me with too great sharpness against the papists and fanatics, that I have experienced no remorse in the matter, having never sought any man's hurt, but rather the conversion and salvation of my enemies. I would fain abide a little longer, inasmuch as many a word still remains to be said against the fanatics and the Sacramentarians. But God's Will be done. Christ is stronger than Belial, and can raise up servants out of stones, who will fight in His Name."

His eyes then sought his wife, who stood apart from the others, weeping bitterly. He beckoned her to come nearer, took her hand and said: "Dearest Kate, I pray you, if the dear Lord take me from hence, that you submit to His gracious Will. You are my true and lawful wife. Of that you shall have no doubt,--let the blind world say what it will. Be guided by the Word of God; cling to that, and you will have a never-failing support against the Devil and all evil tongues."

He lay back; his breath came hard, like that of a dying man. Then he turned and asked: "Where is my dear little son Hans?"

The child was brought, and greeted his sick father with a smile. Tenderly the cold hand caressed his warm, rosy cheeks, and the pallid lips pronounced a father's blessing: "O thou poor child! I commit my dear wife and my fatherless child into the hands of my loving, faithful God. You have nothing, for I leave you no earthly goods; but God has enough for all. Dear Lord, I thank Thee from my heart, that it hath pleased Thee to make me poor in worldly things; I can therefor leave to my wife and child neither house nor land, neither money nor goods. As Thou gavest me them, so I return them to Thee. Thou rich and faithful God, do Thou sustain, teach, and provide for them, even as thou didst sustain, teach and provide for me, O Thou Father of the fatherless, Thou Friend of the widow."

Katharine's heart was wrung with grief. God, in his unsearchable wisdom, was laying a heavy sorrow upon her. For two years she had enjoyed the blessedness of her union with this man; henceforth she and her child must stand alone, poor and defenceless; dependent upon the uncertain favor of human friendship; exposed to the scorn and hatred of enemies, who would make the living feel the insults they might no longer heap upon the dead!--When she thought of herself and the child, her heart seemed well-nigh breaking; but when she looked at her husband, and heard his prayer in her behalf, strength was given her, to endure in silence, and even to speak words of comfort to the sufferer. Bending over him, she said gently: "My dearest Doctor, if it be God's Will, I would rather you were with Him, than with me. I grieve not for myself and for my child only, but for the many good Christian people, who still have need of you. Do not, my dearest husband, trouble yourself about me. I commend you to God's holy Will, and hope and trust that He will graciously spare you."

It seemed as though her words inspired the others with renewed courage. The physician, who had given up all hope, ordered the cold limbs to be again warmed and rubbed. Love and friendship labored faithfully to restore the precious life, and prayer after prayer rose to heaven.

Then came the merciful answer: "Behold, he shall not die, but live!" It seemed like a miracle when the color returned to the pallid face, and the drops of moisture which appeared on the sick man's forehead seemed like dew from Heaven.

The physician exclaimed: "He lives! He lives!" As one intoxicated by the sudden change from despair to hope, the loving wife fell at the feet of him to whom God had revealed the means of preserving her husband's life.

* * * * * * * * * *

His life was out of danger, but his soul--as he said--was still tossed to and fro between Christ and Belial, and miserably bruised. He supposed that he would all his life long be compelled to wade through deep waters of tribulation, but would gladly submit, if it contributed to the glory of his God and Saviour.

Then God sent him an angel of consolation, which to others was an angel of terror. That which cast them down, raised up Dr. Martin. That which shook the faith of strong men, and drove them to despair, restored to him the vigor of his faith and his heroic trust in the living God.

He that sits upon the pale horse rode in at the gates of Wittenberg, holding in his hand the naked sword, to which all living things must succumb. It was that terror of terrors--the plague.

The citizens were panic-stricken, and a stubborn fatalism seemed to seize upon their minds. The Elector's command came from Torgau to the University: "Let teachers and students leave Wittenberg, and seek safety in Jena!" In the Augustinian Convent sat the foremost among the teachers of the University, and in holy defiance replied to the Elector's anxious demand: "I shall remain; I dare not go!" Another urgent request came to him from his sovereign, but his answer was the same: "I shall remain; I dare not go."

Fear, that most effective ally of the plague, had taken possession of the people. But Luther was unacquainted with fear. In his ears rang the Saviour's words: "The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep. But he that is an hireling seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth." With Bugenhagen and Roerer, who had also remained, he visited the plague-stricken houses, bringing help to the living and consolation to the dying. Many died in his arms, breathing pestilence into his face,--but he seemed steeled against contagion, guarded by his fidelity to his people and by his trust in God. And behold, the more lavishly the strength of his body was consumed in this loving service, the more abundantly streamed into his soul a new, God-given vigor. The shadows of melancholy vanished, the Devil's hold was loosed,--and clear in the heaven of his inner world shone his spiritual sun, Jesus Christ.

God enabled him, in many instances, to wrest from death its prey. With all the might of his influence he combated the false fears of the people, and directed them to seek help from God. He reassured the timid, and revived their sinking faith. He rebuked the foolhardy, who tempted God by refusing the necessary remedies. He battled with the superstitious notion that persons were cured by transmitting the disease to others, and thundered in holy indignation against such as in fiendish malice, forced their way into houses as yet uninfected.

Of his own danger he took no thought; nor that his precious life must be preserved to the Church. All his life long he had left the disposal of his affairs with God; with the same calm trustfulness he placed his life in the Father's hands, and his countenance wore the same peaceful serenity in the chambers of the dying, as it had formerly worn in the pulpit or lecture hall.

Not content with assuming the duties of pastor and physician among the sick, he wrote the Protestants in Halle a letter of condolence upon the death of Winkler, a preacher of the Gospel, who had been assassinated by the Romanists. He worked at his exposition of the prophet Zechariah, and made the necessary preparations for the approaching parish-visitation.

Thus he remained at his post, in unshaken fidelity,--as a good shepherd of the flock committed to his care. Silent and ashamed, his enemies beheld him enforcing his doctrine with his life.

Beside him, full of heroic courage, stood the wife whom God had given him. Ministering with the tenderest devotion to his wants, she assisted him in his labors among the sick, and with ready kindness opened her doors to all who came to her for help. The physician Schurf, with his family, had taken refuge in Luther's house. His wife fell ill, and plague spots appeared on her body. Margaret von Mochau, another member of Luther's household, fell sick. Unmindful of herself, Katharine nursed the sufferers, receiving strength from on high for the fulfilling of her Samaritan's work.

Then came news of the death of a dear friend, the young wife of the Chaplain Roerer, who, with her new-born child, fell a prey to the plague. Katharine's heart failed her at this fresh blow. Even Luther began to despair, and the storm of new trials threatened to overthrow the strong man. Bugenhagen, who, with his family, had moved into Luther's house, sought in vain to comfort his friend. Luther saw his wife growing daily weaker, and his little son Hans was beginning to droop.

But behold, God knew better than men, how to raise up the sinking hearts. On the 10th of December, Dr. Martin stood by the bedside of his beloved wife, giving thanks for the mother's life, and for the new life that had entered their house. Holding a new-born child in his arms, he bent down to little Hans and said: "See, Hans, God has given you a little sister!"

The Winter's storms scattered the last germs of the pestilence. The survivors breathed freely, and gave thanks for their deliverance, and by April the fugitives returned. Luther and his wife prayed:

"Thou art the God that doest wonders; Thou hast made known thy power and goodness towards us. In many a household, the members have been made less, but in ours there is one more."

Luther wrote to his friend, Justus Jonas: "The dear Lord has given me a daughter, my sweet, little Elizabeth, and has relieved me of all anxiety concerning my wife. The pestilence entered our house, but the Lord spared us. The plague took our pigs instead, of which five have fallen. I am happy, and thank the Lord, that the angel of death was content with such inferior prey. The plague is now dead and buried."

The returning friends flocked to his house, to convince themselves that the man of God still lived. They had left him bowed down and oppressed with care. They found him cured and, inspired with new strength, as with glowing eyes he welcomed them: "As dying, and, behold, we live."