_June_, 1523.
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 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
our 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 present_. 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 righteousness."
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 grandmother 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, sending forth thence workers and
teachers throughout the world; and as I pondered what he has been to us,
to Fritz and Eva in their lowly hallowed home, to our mother, to our
grandmother, 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
solitary still.