CHAPTER XXXVII.

HE DIES.

A cloud of the noblest champions and witnesses of God had already departed to that place where we rest after the battle, and where the confessor receives the reward of grace. Melanchthon had long before this desired to lay aside his arms, and to celebrate a Sabbath, in which he might sing the new song to him that sitteth upon the throne, with his friends Luther, Cruciger, Veit Dietrich, Sturm, Bucer, Bugenhagen, and all the company of the saints made perfect. He had also expressed this longing towards the eternal home in many of his letters. The most ancient account, that of the University, says in regard to this: "When he had now become worn out, and weary of this life, he prepared himself for death for several years; even as he wrote concerning himself, that he was tired of this life, and was therefore directing his thoughts to another world, and towards his beloved Lord Jesus Christ. That he had done as much as he could in this life, and would leave the rest with God. He comforted himself with the reflection that he had always meant well, and his conscience did not accuse him on this account. And with this clear conscience, he trusted to go "into the presence of his Lord Jesus, with God's help, no matter what an ungrateful world might say about it." Whenever his opponents attacked him at this time, he would say: "Let them write until they are satisfied, and do whatever they please, I shall not trouble them much longer. But I, with God's help, will continue to teach diligently, and present a simple exposition of truth to the young, as long as I live, and will pray God to grant me a joyful departure." To this mental weariness, bodily infirmities were added. He began to experience great difficulty in writing letters, which he had done with much ease formerly; and his eyes, too, grew weaker.

On the 30th of March, 1560, he departed for Leipzig, in order to examine the stipendiaries of the Elector. After he had finished his labors, he left Leipzig on the 4th of April. His journey affected him very unfavorably, for the air was inclement and cold, and they were riding against a cutting north wind. He said, even while in the carriage, "that he had not felt the coldness so much during the whole winter, as he did now." He was able to sleep very little during the night from the 7th to the 8th of April; towards morning he was affected with fever, accompanied by a cough and shortness of breath, and his eyes appeared so sunken, that his friends were terrified. But notwithstanding all this, he roused himself from his couch to attend to his duties, but found himself so much exhausted by his efforts, that he was repeatedly obliged to totter to his couch, to refresh himself. During this day, he yet wrote a short letter to Moller, and apologized for its brevity on account of the severe pain he was suffering. His son-in-law, Doctor Peucer, thought that the affection of the stone, with which his father-in-law had suffered severely before, was again making its appearance, and had a bath and warm poultices prepared for him.

After wishing him good night, the invalid said: "If it is the will of God that I shall die, I am heartily willing to die, and I only pray God to grant me a joyful dismission." He felt that death was approaching; and as he was fond of reading and interpreting the stars, he observed intimations of his death in the planets. He rose shortly before 8 o'clock, in order to deliver his usual lecture. His friends, Esrom (Rüdiger) and Sturm, in vain endeavored to dissuade him from doing so. He said, "I will lecture for a half hour, and then use a bath." But when he was about to set his foot upon a little stool which he used when he washed his hands, he became so weak that he was not able to lift up the other foot, so that he almost fell back. Upon this he said, "I shall go out like a lamp." He went to the lecture-room, accompanied by his two friends; but it was not yet 8 o'clock, and but few students were present. He then remarked: "What is the use of our being here?" On the way back to his house, he said to his companions: "If I could reach Königsberg, I might become better." When he reached the house, he felt somewhat better, and his friends did not venture to give notice that the lecture would be omitted. Esrom departed, in order to seal the letter in which he had communicated Melanchthon's illness to Camerarius.

At 9 o'clock, he again went out to deliver his lecture. It only lasted a quarter of an hour. He spoke of the _ransom_ of Christ, which he offered as Mediator, not silver and gold, but his precious blood, by which he fulfilled the law, and satisfied justice. He spoke with his usual animation. Upon his return home, he took a bath. He took but very little food, and then slept soundly for three hours. At supper, he spoke distinctly, but feebly. On the following night the fever returned, and Peucer found that he had been mistaken as to his disease.

On the 9th and 10th of April, Melanchthon was lively and cheerful; and at a meeting of the faculty, spoke very earnestly against the parties among the students. In the afternoon, he corrected several funeral orations in honor of Duke Philip, of Pomerania, who died on the 24th of February, and said: "I am now only engaged upon funeral matters. This worthy Prince of Pomerania was also named Philip. Perhaps I shall be the next Philip, from the common herd, who shall follow this pious prince." On the same day he delivered a very animated lecture upon Christ's prayer (John xvii.), and also made preparations to read a meditation suitable to the festival of Good Friday, in the morning at 6 o'clock (April 12th). It was based upon the 53d chapter of the Prophet Isaiah. In this he remarks: "Our diligence and valor is also needed." He had indeed spent a bad night, but this did not deter him. When he was told that in the evening they had seen clouds resembling bound rods, he spoke very earnestly of the judgments of God. "The people," he said, "are becoming secure, and care for no warnings; and whenever this is the case, punishment is not far off. May God Almighty be gracious unto us, whom we heartily pray to remember mercy in the midst of his wrath." The following night he enjoyed good rest, and slept very quietly. He awoke whilst he was singing an old hymn, which, when a boy, he had frequently sung in Church: "With desire have I desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer." He wrote an Easter Meditation on the great Sabbath, the day before Easter, and carried it to the printing-office himself. He then went to church, confessed his sins, received absolution, and together with others, in true faith received the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ with thanksgiving and fervent prayer. In the afternoon at 2 o'clock, he went to look after his manuscript in the printing-office. This was his last walk in the street.

At 4 o'clock in the afternoon, his dear friend Camerarius, of Leipzig, who had been informed of his friend's precarious condition, through Peucer, entered the house, and found his friend Melanchthon upon the lowest step of the stairway that led to his study, resting his head upon his hand. He arose and welcomed him, and they continued to converse for some time. At 5 o'clock, he expressed a wish to go to bed, for a severe chill had come upon him. He did not eat anything. He could not sleep during the night after Easter; the heat of the fever was rapidly consuming his strength; but notwithstanding all this, he could not be persuaded to omit his customary annual Easter Meditation. He had already put on his coat to go out. But the good man was so feeble that he was barely able to stand. Some one had informed the students that the Master would not lecture, upon which they all departed. When his son Philip came in to inform his father that there were no auditors there, his father replied, in a tone of displeasure, "So you have told them to go away." But when his son apologized, he said, in a milder tone, "To whom shall I lecture, if there is no one present?" He then took off his coat. He proceeded to write several letters, while Camerarius remained with him, and the rest went to church. The excellent and pious prince Joachim, of Anhalt, who had heard of his illness, sent him a moor-hen, and several partridges. He partook of some of these, and also of some Hungarian plums. He also drank some Rhenish wine, and remarked that he liked it. He also conversed very pleasantly with his friends.

When he arose from the table, he went up into his room and rested for a while upon his couch. He had also commenced writing a letter to Prussia, which he now continued, without however finishing it. He was not able to write any more; he rested, and thought of his deceased friend, Dr. Pommer.[27] He said, "Doctor Pommer, that good, and now sainted man, died of nothing but old age;" and continued: "no one ought to wish to live so long that his age and feebleness would render him altogether useless to men."

On one of the following days, he prayed to God in a very fervent manner, in the hearing of many persons, that he would graciously remove him from this life, if he was not to serve the Church and Christian youth any longer." And God heard this prayer, which he repeated several times.

During the night he slept tolerably well. When he arose, therefore, he continued to write. However, his friends persuaded him not to lecture on this day, (Easter Monday.) Before going to table, he said: "If it is God's will, I am willing to die. I have a desire to depart, and to be with Christ." He then spoke of the original Greek word in the New Testament, which does not properly signify to _depart_, but "to journey or prepare for a journey." He also recollected a remark made by the worthy and pious Dr. Milichius: "It might be that a person would be very anxious to leave this life; but at the same time, no man could earnestly think of death, without shuddering." Melanchthon coincided with this, and said: "The great misery and troubles of life are not able to give a man joy in the hour of death. Something more is needful before a man can feel this." He retired to his bed, and rested for about three hours. When he had risen at one time, and Camerarius and Peucer were again placing him upon his couch, he began to sink under their hands. But they restored him by rubbing him. He spent a very restless night; his cough was quite troublesome, and he slept little. This was the fifth attack of the fever. He remarked that at Weimar, Doctor Sturtz had applied a cardiac of corals, which relieved him, and that he had thought of the word of the prophet in his sleep: "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord." He requested them to apply corals in the present instance, and they did so.

In the morning of the 16th of April, at 4 o'clock, he was heard praying very earnestly. After his prayer he completed the letter to Prussia. On this day Camerarius wished to go home, intending to return at a more convenient time. All entertained hopes that the fever would leave him after the seventh attack. As Melanchthon had not eaten anything the day before, a meal was prepared earlier than usual, in order that he and his friend might eat together. Before going down, they sat on a bench surrounded by some other friends. And now Melanchthon quite unexpectedly said to Camerarius, as if giving him his blessing: "My dear Dr. Joachim, we have been joined in the bonds of friendship about forty years, and we have loved each other with a sincere and disinterested affection. We have been teachers of youth and faithful colleagues, each in his proper place, and I hope to God that our labors have not been useless, but have done much good. If it is God's will that I must die, we will perpetuate our unalterable friendship in the world to come." They then both sat down to table. Melanchthon then turned to Camerarius's son-in-law, ESROM, whose wife had died a year and a half before, and said: "I to-day dreamed of your wife, as if I had seen her die." He said of this pious and virtuous woman, that he heard her remark: "I know that God will not forsake me." "I can never forget that word," he said. When something was said of the hurtful doctrine of doubt, he said to Esrom: "Your sainted wife did not speak so." He also referred again to the hymn, which he sung in his sleep three days ago, and said that it sounded so sweetly. He ate and drank very little, and grew weaker and weaker. He expressed a wish to retire to his room, and tried to go to sleep. Camerarius felt very anxious in regard to him, and determined not to depart that day. The sick man fell asleep, lying upon his back, with his eyes half-open.

He was the very picture of a corpse. His friends were filled with fear, and tears filled their eyes as they gazed upon him. The servants wept and cried aloud, as if their master were already dead. But it had not come to this yet; and when he turned upon his side in his sleep, his countenance assumed a more natural appearance, and he slept soundly. He awoke after three hours, and said that he had slept exceedingly well. Cheerfulness and animation seemed to return. During this day, a Danish Theologian, on his way to his own country, entered his room. Melanchthon was very much pleased with the visit of this gentleman, and gave him several books, which had been printed at Wittenberg, in order that he might present them to the King of Denmark. The invalid requested him to apologize for him to the king, because he had not written; that he was prevented by illness; however, God willing, he hoped to write soon, and faithfully and humbly to thank his majesty for all his gracious favors. He also prayed that the king and his entire kingdom might continue to enjoy happiness and prosperity.

He was so refreshed by his sleep, that he wrote letters, walked through his room and the house, and was more cheerful and animated than during the whole time of his illness. All began to entertain a hope of his recovery. At the supper-table, he was very cheerful. When the conversation turned upon those men who had brought discord into the Church, and still continued to foment it, he was greatly moved, and with unusual passion remarked: "They are knaves, and will remain knaves, and God will yet make it manifest that they are knaves." He remained at table until about 8 o'clock. It was the last meal he ever received in the lower part of his house. His sleep was refreshing. In his sleep his spirit was impressed with the words of the Apostle Paul, "If God be for us, who can be against us?"

On the following day, April 17th, he sealed the letter to Prussia, wrote something upon some small pamphlets, and sent them to his friends, and a few of them to the Duke. When he felt some fatigue, and the fever was about attacking him again, Camerarius came to bid him farewell. Philip said: "The Son of God, who sitteth at the right hand of his heavenly Father, and giveth gifts to men, preserve you and yours, and all of us. Give my warmest regards to your dear wife!" This was the last interview of these affectionate friends. Camerarius mounted his horse before Melanchthon's door, and went to Leipzig to attend to some important matters, intending to return afterwards. Prince Joachim, of Anhalt, on the same day sent one of his attendants to inquire in regard to the good man's health. Melanchthon conversed with him in a very friendly manner, and expressed his affection towards the prince in such moving blessings and wishes for his welfare, that every eye was filled with tears. Several letters also arrived from Switzerland, which spoke of the prospects of a General Council, which the Pope intended to convene. He said: "It is far better for me to die, than to be obliged to attend this Council." For every one could easily imagine what shameful dissensions would arise there, even on the side of the Protestants. At 8 o'clock, the fever made its appearance for the sixth time. To some one standing at his bedside, he remarked: "I was to-night thinking of the foolish dispute that some pretend, that Christ was not afraid of death. But he understood what it is to die, far better than we do, or can do. Therefore he no doubt was more afraid of death than we are." He also said, "How does the will of the Lord Jesus Christ agree with the will of his Heavenly Father, when he was afraid of death!" But he did not give any further intimation of his views in regard to this. He again spoke of Esrom's wife: "What a fine young woman your beloved wife was! She had a strong constitution, too; and yet she died very easily, and had a disease very much like mine. For she had pains in her left side, and I have them too. But the great weakness of my body is owing to other causes, which I do not understand." And shortly before retiring, he said: "If this is not death, it is indeed a very severe scourge." A large map hung near his bed, which he regarded very attentively. He turned round, and with a smile remarked: "Virdungus once foretold to me, by astrology, that I would be shipwrecked upon the ocean, and now I am not far from it." He had reference to the painted ocean upon the map. When the heat of the fever came upon him, and he was about to uncover his extremities, a feeling of modesty led him to say to those who were surrounding his bed: "What are you standing here for? Can't you go home?" This frightened many so much that they retired, and fewer persons were present during that day. At 2 o'clock, the fever left him; it had not been as severe as before. He rose, and took some food, but his stomach would not retain it. He again retired, and slept until 5 o'clock. He was lying all night in his chamber, his slumbers being very slight and restless. His friends feared that the returning fever would consume his remaining strength. Philip himself said, "The end is not far distant;" and prayed, "O Lord, make an end!"

On the 18th of April he rose early in the morning at 4 o'clock, and was conveyed down into his study. He requested them to remove the sofa, which felt uncomfortable, and to put up his travelling-bed. When he was taken down, he said: "This is called a travelling-bed; suppose I should be obliged to travel in it?" While the physicians became convinced, from a number of signs, that he would not recover, he felt it himself, and said, "he was perfectly satisfied, if it was God's will." At 8 o'clock, pastor Paul Eber, and several other persons, entered the room, and approached the death-bed. Melanchthon frequently repeated that he had subjected his own will to the will of God, and that life and death were altogether in his hands. He would be perfectly satisfied with whatever he should do; and he also remarked, "by the blessing of God I have no particular anxieties now; for although my daughter's children, whom I tenderly love, are now passing before my eyes, I comfort myself with the thought that they are in the hands of pious and godly parents, whom I love also. They will be solicitous for their welfare, and carefully train them, as I have done hitherto, and God will also add his blessing. But I feel for the common calamities, and am greatly troubled because a cavilling and perverse world acts so wilfully, and troubles the Holy Christian Church so shamefully. However, let them do whatever they please, through the goodness of God our doctrine is correct and clear for all that." He then said to some persons present, "You are young, and have received sufficient talents through the goodness of God; but see to it that you use them aright. May Almighty God preserve you, and give you strength and wisdom, that you may be of service to him and his Church."

When, on the same day, he saw one of his granddaughters, Peucer's eldest child, passing before his bed, he called her to him, and said: "Dear daughter, I have loved you most affectionately: see that you reverence your parents, and always obey them, and fear God, who will never forsake you. May God Almighty protect you, and give you his blessing. Amen!"

He also spoke in the same friendly manner to the other children, who were younger, and exhorted them to pray and to be pious. To his daughter he said: "Dear daughter, God has given you a pious husband. Love, honor, and obey him. And raise your children in the fear of God, and God will be with you, and will not forsake you." He spoke like one who was taking leave.

Camerarius was written to on the following day, and informed that he must make haste, if he wished to find his Philip alive. But it was impossible for him to arrive before the death of his friend. At 8 o'clock on the 18th of April he had some food prepared for himself, and partook of a little broth, and a few slices of lemon. Soon after he asked his son-in-law, "What hopes he entertained in regard to him, and that he should not hide anything from him." Peucer replied: "God is your life, and the length of the days of your life. But as you request me to tell the whole truth, there is indeed very little hope, as far as I am able to judge from natural causes, for you are very weak, and your weakness is increasing every moment." Upon this he said: "Yes, I feel my weakness, and understand what it imports very well. I have commended the whole matter to God, whom I pray to deal mercifully with me!"

He had before commenced his will, which opened with a short declaration of all the articles of his doctrine and faith. He now ordered them to look for it, in order that he might finish it. But it could not be found, and it was supposed some one had stolen it. At 2 o'clock he seated himself at his desk, to write another. We will insert a part of what he wrote: "In the year 1560, on the eighteenth day of April, I have written this will in my sickness, briefly in reference to the humble possessions which God has bestowed upon me. I have twice before written the confession of my faith, and gratitude to God and our Lord Jesus Christ, but this has been lost. But I wish my answer to the Bavarian articles to be looked upon as my confession against the Papists, Anabaptists, the followers of Flacius, and others like them."

He then expressed his wishes in regard to the division of his property among his heirs; but his weakness prevented him from concluding it, which he intended to do on the following day, but it was never done. He was in full possession of all his mental faculties, and remained so to the end. As he felt no pain in his head at all, some supposed that he would die very painfully. He also conversed with his son-in-law in regard to the affairs of the University, what subjects should be taught there, and also pointed out his successor. At three o'clock, he expressed a wish to retire to his room again. He slept soundly until six. In the meantime, letters had arrived from Frankfort, in which his friends informed him how terribly the pious were being persecuted in France. He said: "Well, I am weak, and do not feel well; but all my sickness does not pain me as much as the great misery of the holy Christian Church, which arises from the unnecessary separation, wickedness, and wilfulness, of those who have departed from us without cause; and these mad people are not able to stop, but must still go on and make this misery worse than it is; for they do not spare any one. But you will see that God will punish this wantonness, and we shall be punished along with them. However, our punishment shall be that which a father inflicts. But they shall be compelled to suffer severer punishment. I deeply commiserate the poor people who are so wretchedly deceived." He continued to utter his complaints thus for a long time, and it affected him very much. His friends also read other letters to him, of more cheering character. Thus the conversation was turned into a different channel, he thought of several friends and acquaintances, and even uttered a few words in jest. His friends conversed with him until about eight o'clock, and entertained the best hopes in regard to his condition. Before retiring to rest, he ate a few preserved cherries, and drank a little wine, to strengthen himself for sleep.

It was his last night, for the _19th of April_ was the day of his death. His sleep was very much disturbed. At two o'clock at night, he rose in the bed, and said to the physician who was present, that he had slept very little. He had again thought of the word of Paul, "If God be for us, who can be against us?" He thought of the misery and troubles of the Church with great sorrow; and his complaints were finally changed into fervent prayers for the whole Christian Church. He spoke with his son-in-law until about three o'clock, and was then led into his study. After walking up and down for some time, he laid himself upon his travelling-bed, and fell asleep, breathing very easily. When he awoke about 6 o'clock, he requested his son-in-law to cut off his hair. This was done. He had three clean linen shirts brought to him, which he put on, one over the other, as he had been in the habit of doing for years, in order to keep his body warm. He also placed a clean night-cap upon his head, for he was in the habit of always wearing one at home; and he remarked that he had learned this of the celebrated Dr. Reuchlin. In this manner he adorned himself for his departure. Soon after, the minister of Torgau, together with his chaplain, Fisher, and the physician Kentman, of Torgau, came to pay a visit to the sick man. He conversed with these friends for about half an hour. He said that he did not feel particularly troubled on account of himself, but that he deeply felt the sad condition of the Church; for men were exciting wanton and useless controversies, dividing the Church, and darkening the truth of the pure doctrine by violence. But that he also had the consolation to know, that by the grace of God, the true doctrine is rightly explained in our churches; and thus concluded: "If I die, I shall escape coming misfortunes, and shall be torn away from this unhappy, sophistical, and strange year of nature."

He began to pray with tears, and to commend the Church to the Son of God, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. When the three friends were about to depart, he invited them to dinner. They accepted the invitation; but one of them received word that his daughter was taken