SHELTERED.
The month of May had come. In the Burgomaster's street, in
Wittenberg, stood a high-gabled house, ornamented with two fierce
dragon heads. There the syndic, Master Philip Reichenbach, and his
wife were seated near a window enjoying the twilight--the sweetest
hour of the twenty-four to the master of the house--when, after the
labors of the day, he could enjoy the peaceful quiet of his home.
Master Reichenbach was a short, thick-set man, near fifty, and highly
esteemed in Wittenberg for his calm judgment and honorable mind. His
wife Elsa, a refined, energetic little woman, had doubtless been a
great beauty in her youth; and even now it was a pleasure to look
into her fresh, kindly face, to whose delicate features the inner
beauty of the soul had given their final charm.
The arrangement of the house bore evidence of great wealth; but the
spacious halls were silent; no merry, childish voices disturbed the
stillness. So much the more were husband and wife drawn to each
other.
"At last the Doctor has found a shelter for the remaining two of the
escaped nuns," the syndic reported.
"The Zeschau sisters?" asked Frau Elsa, with lively interest. "I
thank God, for the dear Doctor's sake. I have pitied him from my
heart. It is a mystery to me, how he will carry through all the
business that rests upon him. Another had broken down long ago under
the burden. His convent is like a dove-cote, where there is a
continual coming and going. Who can count the letters he writes?
And must he not, as from a high watch-tower, overlook all things,
like a king of the spiritual world, taking note of the smallest, as
well as of the weightiest matters? I am vexed with the people who
trouble him with their small affairs, and waste his precious time. I
was angry with the nuns at Nimptschen, when I heard that they had
petitioned Dr. Martin; and when, not content with having been
released from their prison, they came hither to trouble him further.
I am comforted, now that his unceasing efforts have procured a
shelter for them all--not only comforted, but glad and thankful,
inasmuch as by these means, our dear Kate has become a member of our
household."
The syndic, well pleased with this turn of his wife's speech,
contentedly rubbed his knees and said: "I am glad of it, dear Elsa.
I was fearful, lest the guest, whom we received for Luther's sake,
might prove burdensome to you, and disturb the quiet of our
household. I feared also that you might be ill-suited to one
another, for Katharine von Bora is of a different temper from you."
A happy smile played around Frau Elsa's lips. "All my care has been
turned into pleasure. You are right,--Katharine's temper and inner
disposition are different from mine. There is something so noble and
great-hearted in her character, that I often feel myself small in
comparison. At times, she seems proud and haughty, as even Dr.
Luther lately remarked. But her pride is only maidenly dignity,--the
expression of her high and noble mind. And withal, her eyes meet the
world with a glance so clear and open, her words are so
straightforward, and her judgment so true, that often I am fain to
ask her counsel. She is like a child, in her innocent happiness; and
often she falls upon my neck, kisses me, and exclaims: 'Ah, how happy
I am; and I owe it all to you and to the great Doctor.' She always
calls Luther the 'great Doctor,' and when we speak of him, she
listens reverently with folded hands. As in former days she
reverenced the saints of the Romish calendar, so she now venerates
Dr. Martin, holding him to be greater and more glorious than many of
those whom the Church has canonized.
"You should see her, dear Philip, when she is busied with household
duties. I feared at first, that she would cause me much unwonted
labor; but now, my hands often lie idle, because I find my work
already done. She reads my wishes in my eyes, and her hand is
skillful and quick in learning the unaccustomed duties. I often
think, as I watch her: Happy is the man, whom this Martha will serve!
and a feeling of envy creeps into my heart, for I would rather keep
her with me always, and I dread the day when the wooers will appear."
"Are you thinking of Jerome Baumgaertner, the young patrician from
Nuremberg?" asked her husband. "Methinks you are needlessly
troubled. I saw indeed how his eyes followed Katharine, when on your
Name day he sat at table with us, and I notice that since then his
visits are unnecessarily frequent. But Katharine is timid in her
intercourse with men. You know that, although she has been four
weeks in our house, she can scarcely be persuaded to leave it, except
to go to church."
Elsa shook her head, regarding her husband with a compassionate
smile: "I understand a woman's heart better than you. Modesty and
reserve are a maiden's loveliest adornments, and in a man's eyes they
are an added charm, urging him to pluck the flowers that seem beyond
his reach. The young man seems not to displease Katharine; and she
dreads to leave the shelter of our house, not because of those who
love her, but because of her enemies and detractors. She has heard
the evil things that were said about the nuns of Nimptschen, although
I tried to conceal them from her. She knows also that the merchant
Leonhard Koppe, of Torgau, is in great danger from the anger of the
Papists, and that Dr. Luther addressed to him a public letter of
thanks for his brave deed. This is her reason for shunning
intercourse with strangers. But it will not always be thus."
The rosy glow of the sunset shone through the round panes, and the
pictures on the wall, painted by the hand of Master Lucas Kranach,
were tinged with a golden light.
"How clear the sunset, and how fair the evening!" said the syndic.
"Let us walk in the garden until supper is served. Have the peas
been planted? It should have been done yesterday, but I found no
time."
Frau Elsa did not know. They crossed the spacious hall and
courtyard, and entered the garden, which covered a large piece of
ground. To the right was planted an orchard of fruit-trees, and to
the left were borders already prepared for vegetables and flowers.
A kneeling figure was busily engaged before one of the freshly dug
beds.
"Is this Katharine?" exclaimed Reichenbach in surprise, as the figure
hastily arose. "My dear Katharine, what are you doing here?" he
asked.
With a smile, the girl replied: "The peas looked at me so
questioningly, whether I would not prepare for them their little bed
in the earth; and the leaves of the cabbage plants hung limp, so that
it was high time to plant them."
The syndic's eyes rested for a moment upon her work. "But who has
taught you this? And those slender fingers, that from childhood have
been clasped in prayer, or telling beads, are they fit for such
coarse work?"
Katharine glanced at him and said: "Love is a good teacher. One
learns quickly, what one does willingly."
"But you should spare yourself, lest you overtax your strength,"
warned the syndic.
Katharine shook her head. "Did you spare yourself, when you
permitted the strange, runaway nun, to disturb the quiet of your
household? Ah, I wish I could do much more to requite your Christian
charity! It is my daily prayer, that God may pay poor Katharine's
debt."
An expression of deep gratitude animated her face, and made it almost
beautiful. Frau Elsa silently clasped the girl in her arms, while
her husband turned into another path to hide his emotion.
As he walked through the garden, he saw on all sides traces of a busy
hand, that had cleared the paths, plucked up the weeds and tended the
flowers. He did not need to ask, whose hand it was; and with hearty
pleasure his eyes followed Katharine, who, her arm linked in that of
his wife, was walking before him.
Soon Sybilla, the old servant, came to announce Dr. Luther, who
presently appeared, clad in his dark-colored, monkish gown.
"God's greeting to you, my dear friend," he exclaimed. "How goes it
with you? And how fares our poor little nun?"
The syndic reverently lifted his hat, and offered his hand in welcome
to his guest. "Have no fear for her, Doctor, it goes well with her."
"But you, my friend,--will she not be burdensome to you? You are
making a great sacrifice for my sake; and I am troubled when I think
that you may be further inconvenienced. I wish some one would come
and make a wife of the maiden,--that is more truly a woman's
vocation."
With a serious face, the syndic answered: "Most reverend Doctor, you
have done so much for us. Will you do one thing more? Do not allow
this to trouble you. It is no sacrifice, to keep Katharine; but it
would grieve us to part with her, for she has become dear to us as
our own child."
Luther's worn face was lighted with a ray of pleasure. Clasping his
friend's hand, he said: "A true friend is a precious treasure, and
not to be bought with gold. Continue to be my friend always. As for
me, I shall hold you dearer than ever, from this day forth."
Meanwhile the women had approached. Katharine, when she saw the
monk, sought timidly to draw Frau Elsa away, whispering: "The great
Doctor!" But the little lady was not to be restrained from welcoming
the beloved guest.
Luther's eyes rested with pleased surprise upon the graceful figure
of the former nun, in whose pale cheeks the air of freedom had caused
the first spring-roses to bloom. With a smile he noted the traces of
her work still clinging to her dress.
"Ah, Mistress Katharine," he jested, "you have indeed become a child
of the world. And how does it please you? I see that your mind
turns to earthly things, and that you busy yourself with mean and
lowly matters, which draw your thoughts to the dust, for soiled are
both your dress and hand. Would you not rather return to the
convent, where you would be far removed from an evil world, while
your thoughts floated heavenward upon clouds of incense?"
Katharine's cheeks grew rosier still, as she answered softly, with
downcast eyes: "Leave me in the world; it is beautiful here. Surely
so long as I am not of the world, I can serve God acceptably, and
dedicate my life to Him. From your own lips I have learned, that the
dear Lord is served with small things, as well as with great."
The Doctor was about to answer, when Frau Elsa forestalled him, with
the request that he would remain to supper.
Luther met her eyes with a merry glance. "How skillfully you have
divined my thoughts. Had you not bidden me stay, I should have
offered myself as your guest, otherwise I had gone supperless to bed;
for my servant, Wolfgang, but an hour ago, came to my cell with a
very long face, saying: 'Doctor, what will you eat this evening?
There was a remnant of baked fish in the larder, which would have
served for your supper; but a cat must have eaten it, for nothing is
left but a few bones.'"
With deep sympathy, Katharine looked up to the man, who in such rich
measure broke the bread of life to all the world, and yet lacked
daily bread for his own need. Her admiration rose at the greatness
of his mind, which could turn his poverty into a jest. She whispered
her thoughts to Frau Elsa, who answered in the same tone: "He has
barely enough for the necessities of life. His professor's salary is
but twenty-two thalers and twelve groschen, and he forgets his own
wants, to give to the many poor, who daily importune his generous
heart."
"His life must be dreary enough," Katharine continued, "in his gloomy
convent, where no woman's hand can minister to his comfort. Wolfgang
may be faithful,--but he is no woman."
They entered the hall, where Sybilla had served the evening meal.
"Would you hear some news, my friends?" said Luther, when they were
seated. "Leonhard Koppe, the robber of nuns, for whom the Papists
would fain prepare a heretic's death, rather deserves a martyr's
crown; for behold, the deed which he ventured in God's name, has been
followed by great blessing. It was of no avail, to conceal what had
happened at Nimptschen. The tidings penetrated into other convents,
and our dear Kate has found many imitators. To-day I learned, that
nine nuns, together with their abbess, escaped from the Benedictine
convent at Zeitz, six nuns from the abbey at Sarmitz, eight from the
Cistercian convent of Bentlitz, and sixteen from the Dominican house
of Widerstedt. Mistress Katharine will doubtless rejoice to hear,
that three more nuns left Nimptschen,--not secretly, but were taken
away in orderly fashion by their kinspeople. I am heartily glad of
it. But in order that the convent gates may be opened more freely
still, I am writing the history of Florentina von Oberweimar, who
fled from the nunnery of Neuhelfta, near Eisleben. This little book
will be printed and spread abroad, that all the world may learn what
is a nun's life; that the Devil's wiles may be exposed, and that poor
Leonhard Koppe may hereafter be left in peace."
Frau Elsa passed a dish to the Doctor, and pressed him to eat.
"These are good tiding, reverend sir, and our dear Kate seems well
pleased. I will ask you to lend me the history of Florentina, as
soon as it is printed. But do not forget that this is the time to
eat. You need some nourishment, for the dark shadows under your eyes
tell of sleepless nights and over-much study."
Luther mechanically put some of the food on his plate, and said: "For
that the godless prophets of Zwickau are to blame, who, while I sat
imprisoned as Squire George, laid waste the vineyard of the Lord; and
it is more laborious to build up than to destroy. Many a morning,
when I look at my untouched bed, I think of Karlstadt, and say:
'Behold, for this friendly service I have to thank thee!'"
"But tell me, Doctor," said Frau Elsa, "how do you accomplish all
this work, which would tax the strength of ten men? You preach,
lecture, write books, translate the Bible, receive and answer
letters,--yet you never grow weary, and always have a cheerful heart.
You find time to help Wolfgang at his lathe, to tend the flowers in
your garden, and to hold converse with your friends."
Luther looked up with a pleasant smile. "Dear friend, for the
accomplishment of such labors two things are needful,--order and
prayer. Has not each hour sixty minutes? Much can be done in sixty
minutes, if we do it in order, redeeming the time. And prayer is a
fresh well, from whence body and soul draw ever new strength. This
Psalter"--and he drew a little book from his breast-pocket,--"is my
constant companion and comforter, from whom I learn and receive all
that I need. I hold my prayers to be stronger by far than all the
Devil's might and cunning; and if for one day I forget to pray, my
faith would grow cold. Work and pray evermore, and God will help
thee!"
Katharine listened with reverent attention. Then she bent her head
and whispered: "The great Doctor! The wonderful man! Oh, to have
him always before one's eyes, and to follow his example! If I might
but be his servant." A warm glance from Frau Elsa, and a soft
pressure of the hand was her answer.
Doctor Martin then entered into a conversation with the syndic,
regarding the Knight Franz von Sickingen, whose tragic end had
saddened many hearts. The strong man had been conquered by a
stronger. The princes of Hesse, Palatinate and Treves, had besieged
and overpowered his fortress of Landstuhl.
"I was almost vexed with you, Doctor," said the syndic, "when you
refused Sickingen's proffered hand. His good sword, I trusted, would
prove a strong defence, and hew a way for the Gospel, despite the
Pope and the Emperor; for Sickengen's power was growing apace. Now
it is clear to me, that in this matter also you were in the right."
Luther shook his head sadly. "I grieve for thee, my brother
Sickingen! He meant it well with me. And yet he was a tempter, to
whom I must needs say: Get thee behind me, who, with carnal weapons,
wouldst further God's sacred cause! Such means are ill-pleasing to
the Lord, and endanger the truth, which needs no earthly props or
crutches, having within itself the power to conquer the world. It is
the _Word_, which must achieve the victory, not the _Sword_! Had I
entrusted the Gospel to Sickingen's hand, it would have perished with
the dying hero. But it is time that I go, for Wolfgang and the nun
Florentina are awaiting me at home. Will you not give me something
for the poor fellow? He is so faithful, and would share his last
morsel with me!"
Before Frau Elsa could rise, Katharine had wrapped a piece of smoked
meat in a napkin, and given it to Doctor Martin. He thanked them,
and wished them good-night.