"AS DYING, AND, BEHOLD, WE LIVE."
In the early dawn of a hot summer's day--the 6th of July, 1527--a
woman hurried through the streets of Wittenberg, and knocked at the
door of the town-preacher, Bugenhagen. With anxious haste she
entered the study of the reverend gentleman.
"Dear Doctor, I beg of you, for Christ's sake, come with me; my dear
husband is in great anguish, and I am sorely troubled. Perhaps you
may be better able, than I, to comfort him."
Bugenhagen, greatly alarmed, inquired more particularly into the
condition of his friend.
Mistress Katharine, still panting from her hurried walk--for the sick
man was no other than Dr. Martin Luther--replied: "His head is
confused, and frightful visions arise before him. He imagines that
the Devil is besetting him, who seeks to put him to shame, and to
destroy the work of his life. Although I have endeavored to soothe
him with loving words, he seems not to hear me, and refuses food and
drink. In January he suffered in a like manner, but a tea of herbs
restored him. This time my simple remedies have been without effect."
Bugenhagen listened with painful interest. "Do not despair, dear
Mistress Luther," he said; "it is not the Devil who is at work, but
his sluggish blood, which rises to his head and produces these
illusions. I can easily explain the cause. His body is taking its
revenge for the sins committed against it, when in the convent, out
of ignorance, and from mistaken piety, he undermined his health with
watching, fasting and otherwise mortifying the flesh. He sits too
closely over his books, denies himself the needed recreation, and
tortures his brain with overmuch study and thought. The world's
enmity against the truth causes him much sorrow; the miserable
peasants' war has grieved his generous spirit, and the dispute with
the Swiss sacramentarians is not yet ended. All these things have
given him many sad hours. But with God's help, it will pass over. I
will go with you, and do what I can."
They at once repaired to the convent. The servants stood about, in
anxious fear, and regarded with dismay the town-preacher, who was
also Luther's confessor.
Bugenhagen found the sick man reclining in a chair, his arms hanging
listlessly at his side. His friendly greeting was received with a
dreary smile.
"You are heartily welcome, dear Bugenhagen. I longed to see you,
that I might unburden my heart, and receive absolution. Behold,
whatsoever sins I have committed during my life, in thought, word and
deed, rest like a weight upon my soul, and I pray God, for Christ's
sake, to have mercy on a poor sinner. Dear Bugenhagen, give me God's
assurance that I shall find grace with the ever-living Father of
mercies."
Deeply moved, Bugenhagen gave him absolution, and then inquired into
the nature of his malady.
"Dear Dr. Gommer," Luther replied, "the torments which are now
besetting me remind me of St. Paul, when he was buffeted by the
messengers of Satan; for such ills there seems to be no natural
cause. Because I am usually of a cheerful countenance, many think
that my path is strewn with roses; but God knows how it is with me."
Bugenhagen repeated the arguments, with which he had sought to
reassure Mistress Kate, but they made little impression on the sick
man.
Bugenhagen then reminded Luther of the invitation they had both
received, to breakfast with the Elector's marshal, Hans Loser. "The
society of these men, and the fresh air will do you good. I pray
you, Martin, rouse yourself." Katharine's eloquence was added to
that of Bugenhagen, and finally Luther yielded to their united
persuasions.
At the inn, where the breakfast was served, a chosen company was
assembled. Luther ate little, but forced himself to join in the
conversation. At noon he left quietly, and went to his friend Justus
Jonas, the provost of All Saints' School. He sat for two hours,
pouring out his heart to his friend, for Jonas was a man of wise
counsel and loving sympathy. Before leaving, Luther invited his
friend to visit him in the evening. When Jonas arrived at the
appointed time, he found the Doctor lying on his bed, complaining of
great weakness, and a constant rushing and singing in his left ear.
Feeling a sudden faintness, Luther called for water, which Jonas
brought and dashed into his face. This seemed to revive the
sufferer. He lay back among the pillows, with wide open eyes. But
suddenly his face changed; his body grew cold, and shook as in an
ague fit. With difficulty he folded his hands, and a fervent prayer
rose from his lips:
"My God, if thou hast ordained this to be my last hour, I submit
myself to Thy Will. O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither
chasten me in thy hot displeasure. Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I
am weak: O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed. My soul is also
sore vexed: But Thou, O Lord, how long? Return, O Lord, deliver my
soul: Oh save me, for Thy mercy's sake. For in death there is no
remembrance of Thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks? I am
weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water
my couch with my tears. Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it
waxeth old, because of all mine enemies. Depart from me, all ye
workers of iniquity, for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.
The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer.
Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and
be ashamed suddenly. Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all
generations. Amen."
While he was praying, Katharine had entered the room, bringing with
her Augustin Schurf, the family physician, who at once ordered the
patient to be wrapped in heated cloths. Luther seemed to observe
nothing of what was passing. His thoughts were with God, and his
eyes were turned heavenward. Again he prayed, and all folded their
hands in tearful reverence:
"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks
be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
I lay me down in peace and sleep; for Thou, Lord, only makest me
dwell in safety. Lord Jesus Christ receive my spirit. I take refuge
in Thy wounds; Thy righteousness upholds me,--Thou art our only
Mediator and High Priest, who bearest the sins of the world. Dear
Lord, Thou hast not counted Thy servant worthy, after the manner of
the blessed martyrs, to shed his blood for Thee; yet will I take
comfort in the example of St. John, to whom also this boon was
denied, albeit he wrote a book against the Antichrist, far more
effective than any book of mine!"
Turning to his friends, he continued: "Dear, faithful friends; lest
after my death the world should say I had recanted, I ask you to
witness this my confession. I declare, with a clear conscience, that
I have taught none but the true and wholesome doctrine, concerning
faith, love, the cross, the sacraments, and other articles of the
Christian religion, according to God's Word and at His command, Who
alone has guided me in this matter, and has drawn and urged me
forward, without any will of mine. I testify to those who have
reproached me with too great sharpness against the papists and
fanatics, that I have experienced no remorse in the matter, having
never sought any man's hurt, but rather the conversion and salvation
of my enemies. I would fain abide a little longer, inasmuch as many
a word still remains to be said against the fanatics and the
Sacramentarians. But God's Will be done. Christ is stronger than
Belial, and can raise up servants out of stones, who will fight in
His Name."
His eyes then sought his wife, who stood apart from the others,
weeping bitterly. He beckoned her to come nearer, took her hand and
said: "Dearest Kate, I pray you, if the dear Lord take me from hence,
that you submit to His gracious Will. You are my true and lawful
wife. Of that you shall have no doubt,--let the blind world say what
it will. Be guided by the Word of God; cling to that, and you will
have a never-failing support against the Devil and all evil tongues."
He lay back; his breath came hard, like that of a dying man. Then he
turned and asked: "Where is my dear little son Hans?"
The child was brought, and greeted his sick father with a smile.
Tenderly the cold hand caressed his warm, rosy cheeks, and the pallid
lips pronounced a father's blessing: "O thou poor child! I commit my
dear wife and my fatherless child into the hands of my loving,
faithful God. You have nothing, for I leave you no earthly goods;
but God has enough for all. Dear Lord, I thank Thee from my heart,
that it hath pleased Thee to make me poor in worldly things; I can
therefor leave to my wife and child neither house nor land, neither
money nor goods. As Thou gavest me them, so I return them to Thee.
Thou rich and faithful God, do Thou sustain, teach, and provide for
them, even as thou didst sustain, teach and provide for me, O Thou
Father of the fatherless, Thou Friend of the widow."
Katharine's heart was wrung with grief. God, in his unsearchable
wisdom, was laying a heavy sorrow upon her. For two years she had
enjoyed the blessedness of her union with this man; henceforth she
and her child must stand alone, poor and defenceless; dependent upon
the uncertain favor of human friendship; exposed to the scorn and
hatred of enemies, who would make the living feel the insults they
might no longer heap upon the dead!--When she thought of herself and
the child, her heart seemed well-nigh breaking; but when she looked
at her husband, and heard his prayer in her behalf, strength was
given her, to endure in silence, and even to speak words of comfort
to the sufferer. Bending over him, she said gently: "My dearest
Doctor, if it be God's Will, I would rather you were with Him, than
with me. I grieve not for myself and for my child only, but for the
many good Christian people, who still have need of you. Do not, my
dearest husband, trouble yourself about me. I commend you to God's
holy Will, and hope and trust that He will graciously spare you."
It seemed as though her words inspired the others with renewed
courage. The physician, who had given up all hope, ordered the cold
limbs to be again warmed and rubbed. Love and friendship labored
faithfully to restore the precious life, and prayer after prayer rose
to heaven.
Then came the merciful answer: "Behold, he shall not die, but live!"
It seemed like a miracle when the color returned to the pallid face,
and the drops of moisture which appeared on the sick man's forehead
seemed like dew from Heaven.
The physician exclaimed: "He lives! He lives!" As one intoxicated
by the sudden change from despair to hope, the loving wife fell at
the feet of him to whom God had revealed the means of preserving her
husband's life.
* * * * * * * * * *
His life was out of danger, but his soul--as he said--was still
tossed to and fro between Christ and Belial, and miserably bruised.
He supposed that he would all his life long be compelled to wade
through deep waters of tribulation, but would gladly submit, if it
contributed to the glory of his God and Saviour.
Then God sent him an angel of consolation, which to others was an
angel of terror. That which cast them down, raised up Dr. Martin.
That which shook the faith of strong men, and drove them to despair,
restored to him the vigor of his faith and his heroic trust in the
living God.
He that sits upon the pale horse rode in at the gates of Wittenberg,
holding in his hand the naked sword, to which all living things must
succumb. It was that terror of terrors--the plague.
The citizens were panic-stricken, and a stubborn fatalism seemed to
seize upon their minds. The Elector's command came from Torgau to
the University: "Let teachers and students leave Wittenberg, and seek
safety in Jena!" In the Augustinian Convent sat the foremost among
the teachers of the University, and in holy defiance replied to the
Elector's anxious demand: "I shall remain; I dare not go!" Another
urgent request came to him from his sovereign, but his answer was the
same: "I shall remain; I dare not go."
Fear, that most effective ally of the plague, had taken possession of
the people. But Luther was unacquainted with fear. In his ears rang
the Saviour's words: "The good shepherd giveth his life for his
sheep. But he that is an hireling seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth
the sheep, and fleeth." With Bugenhagen and Roerer, who had also
remained, he visited the plague-stricken houses, bringing help to the
living and consolation to the dying. Many died in his arms,
breathing pestilence into his face,--but he seemed steeled against
contagion, guarded by his fidelity to his people and by his trust in
God. And behold, the more lavishly the strength of his body was
consumed in this loving service, the more abundantly streamed into
his soul a new, God-given vigor. The shadows of melancholy vanished,
the Devil's hold was loosed,--and clear in the heaven of his inner
world shone his spiritual sun, Jesus Christ.
God enabled him, in many instances, to wrest from death its prey.
With all the might of his influence he combated the false fears of
the people, and directed them to seek help from God. He reassured
the timid, and revived their sinking faith. He rebuked the
foolhardy, who tempted God by refusing the necessary remedies. He
battled with the superstitious notion that persons were cured by
transmitting the disease to others, and thundered in holy indignation
against such as in fiendish malice, forced their way into houses as
yet uninfected.
Of his own danger he took no thought; nor that his precious life must
be preserved to the Church. All his life long he had left the
disposal of his affairs with God; with the same calm trustfulness he
placed his life in the Father's hands, and his countenance wore the
same peaceful serenity in the chambers of the dying, as it had
formerly worn in the pulpit or lecture hall.
Not content with assuming the duties of pastor and physician among
the sick, he wrote the Protestants in Halle a letter of condolence
upon the death of Winkler, a preacher of the Gospel, who had been
assassinated by the Romanists. He worked at his exposition of the
prophet Zechariah, and made the necessary preparations for the
approaching parish-visitation.
Thus he remained at his post, in unshaken fidelity,--as a good
shepherd of the flock committed to his care. Silent and ashamed, his
enemies beheld him enforcing his doctrine with his life.
Beside him, full of heroic courage, stood the wife whom God had given
him. Ministering with the tenderest devotion to his wants, she
assisted him in his labors among the sick, and with ready kindness
opened her doors to all who came to her for help. The physician
Schurf, with his family, had taken refuge in Luther's house. His
wife fell ill, and plague spots appeared on her body. Margaret von
Mochau, another member of Luther's household, fell sick. Unmindful
of herself, Katharine nursed the sufferers, receiving strength from
on high for the fulfilling of her Samaritan's work.
Then came news of the death of a dear friend, the young wife of the
Chaplain Roerer, who, with her new-born child, fell a prey to the
plague. Katharine's heart failed her at this fresh blow. Even
Luther began to despair, and the storm of new trials threatened to
overthrow the strong man. Bugenhagen, who, with his family, had
moved into Luther's house, sought in vain to comfort his friend.
Luther saw his wife growing daily weaker, and his little son Hans was
beginning to droop.
But behold, God knew better than men, how to raise up the sinking
hearts. On the 10th of December, Dr. Martin stood by the bedside of
his beloved wife, giving thanks for the mother's life, and for the
new life that had entered their house. Holding a new-born child in
his arms, he bent down to little Hans and said: "See, Hans, God has
given you a little sister!"
The Winter's storms scattered the last germs of the pestilence. The
survivors breathed freely, and gave thanks for their deliverance, and
by April the fugitives returned. Luther and his wife prayed:
"Thou art the God that doest wonders; Thou hast made known thy power
and goodness towards us. In many a household, the members have been
made less, but in ours there is one more."
Luther wrote to his friend, Justus Jonas: "The dear Lord has given me
a daughter, my sweet, little Elizabeth, and has relieved me of all
anxiety concerning my wife. The pestilence entered our house, but
the Lord spared us. The plague took our pigs instead, of which five
have fallen. I am happy, and thank the Lord, that the angel of death
was content with such inferior prey. The plague is now dead and
buried."
The returning friends flocked to his house, to convince themselves
that the man of God still lived. They had left him bowed down and
oppressed with care. They found him cured and, inspired with new
strength, as with glowing eyes he welcomed them: "As dying, and,
behold, we live."