"It is being done, my child. I am trying in my Patmos tower once more to
unveil the Revelation to the common people; 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 wilderness 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 be an intrusion to follow him, or to inquire where
he was concealed. But as the hunt passed away, Ulrich recognized one of
the huntsmen as a retainer of the Elector Frederick at his castle of the
Wartburg.
And now when every 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 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 (better 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.
And he gave Ulrich two or three precious fragments of his translation of
the Gospels, for me to read to the peasants.
_November_.
I have gone with my precious bits of the German Bible that is to be into
many a cottage during this month,--simple narratives 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 indeed 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 indeed to be
spoken to by all, and He such a great Lord?"
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 Hermentrud 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 forget 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 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 then 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
depends on how I can comprehend and feel that name, "Father!"