XXVIII.

Else's Story.

All 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

consolations at home.

Eva and Fritz are certainly far more reasonable, and instead of

regarding the whole world as centering in them, like our dear mother,

appear to consider themselves made to serve the whole world, which is

more Christian-like, but must also have its limits. 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 affairs.

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 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 arranged.

Chriemhild and Ulrich have persuaded the old knight to rebuild 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

Schoenberg treasures.

Christopher is secretly preparing them a library of all Dr. Luther's and

Dr. Melancthon's books, beautifully 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 countenances 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 the night,

and told us the errand which brought them to Wittemberg.

From 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 mountain 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 reproached. "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 requires only to touch the hem of Christ's 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 and by baptism. These walked

in simplicity and humbleness of heart, thinking the monks and friars,

and such only as were annointed 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 Christendom 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," 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 together 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 gladness singing.

Give thanks to God, our Lord above--

Thanks for his miracles of love:

Dearly he hath redeemed us!

The devil's captive bound I lay,

Lay in death's chains forlorn;

My sins distressed me night and day--

The sin within me born;

I could not do the thing I would,

In all my life was nothing good,

Sin had possessed me wholly.

My good works 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 forever."

Willing the Son took that behest,

Born 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.

True, 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.

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 guard 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 and Fritz sang a Latin

resurrection hymn from the olden time.[11]

[Footnote 11:

Mundi renovatio

Nova parit gaudia,

Resurgente Domino

Conresurgunt omnia;

Elementa serviunt,

Et auctoris sentiunt,

Quanta sint solemnia.

&c. &c. &c.

(The translation only is given above.)]

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 outpoured.

Fire springs up with motion free,

Breezes wake up soft and warm;

Water flows abundantly,

Earth remaineth firm.

All things light now skyward soar,

Solid things are rooted more;

All 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.[12]

[Footnote 12: Adam of St. Victor, twelfth century.]

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--she 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 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, unapproachable Judge, enthroned far up in the cold spaces

of the sky; 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 himself.

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 _us_ 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 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 solitary 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 sacrifice of atonement,

the spotless Lamb of God, who gave himself once for our sins; and that

there is but one priestly Mediator, 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 misunderstanding 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 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 convent, at last! They wrote to Dr.

Luther, who interested himself much in seeking asylums for them. And now

Master Leonard Koppe of Torgan has brought them safely to Wittemberg

concealed 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, strewing 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.