GLIMPSES OF SUNSHINE.
If there is consolation in having companions in misery, then Luther's
widow might indeed deem herself consoled.
The Elector John Frederick of Saxony, outlawed and dispossessed of
his throne, was still a prisoner in the Emperor's hands. Although
absent from his subjects, and no longer their master, he yet governed
and influenced his people; and from the captive prince a blessing
went forth upon all who kept their faith with the Protestant
confession. The example of his noble endurance, his heroism, and
humble submission inspired thousands, boldly to confess Christ; while
on the other hand the unfaithful and the hard of heart were made to
feel the shame of their weakness and time-serving.
Luther once said of his friend Hausman: "What we teach, he lives."
Had Luther been alive, he might have applied this saying to the
Elector also. A man, who has an electorate to sacrifice for his
faith, doubtless finds it more difficult to follow Christ, than one
who had nothing to lose. And all the more glorious does such an one
stand before the world. John Frederick appears as a mighty one in
Israel, when we consider his heroic calmness, his childlike
submission. There was no hesitation, no halting on both sides; his
heart was rooted in God's grace, and whether the Emperor sought to
tempt him with fair promises, or threatened him with a fearful doom,
he never swerved from the faith. His death-sentence was announced to
him, while he sat at a game of chess. He calmly finished the game
and then said: "I thought your Imperial Majesty would have dealt more
mercifully with me; but if it cannot be otherwise, I beg that the day
of my death be made known to me beforehand. There are matters which
I wish to arrange with my wife and children." Death has no terrors
for him,--his glance says: "To me to live is Christ, and to die is
gain."
The Emperor's awakened conscience caused him to revoke the sentence
of death, and he promised the Elector liberty and ample
indemnification for the ignominy endured, if he would but acknowledge
the "Interim" of Augsburg, that masterpiece of Romish craft and
deception which, under the guise of yielding to the demands of the
Reformation, tore the heart out of Protestantism. He believed
himself sure of his game, not deeming it possible that a man should
withstand such a temptation, and sacrifice his throne, his honor, and
his liberty to the Word of God; he himself being quite incapable of
such an act. Yet he was impressed, and a flush of shame rose to his
face, when he heard the Elector's answer:
"I stand as a poor prisoner before your majesty. I do not deny that
I have confessed the truth, and for its sake have lost all that I
possessed,--my wife and children, my land and my people,--in short,
all that God gave and lent me in this world. I have nothing to call
my own, save this poor, captive body,--even it is not in my own
power, but in that of your majesty. And standing thus despoiled
before the world, I am bidden also to renounce my heavenly
inheritance by a recantation, from which may God preserve me. For
herein have I placed my highest hopes; and I know, that although for
its sake I must yield up life, yet will God give me a better
possession hereafter. It would ill befit me, by an iniquitous
recantation, to mislead so many thousands. Therefore, most gracious
Emperor, having me in your power, your Majesty may deal with me as
with a prisoner. I will abide by the truth I have confessed; and, as
an example to others, willingly suffer, whatsoever God and your
Majesty shall lay upon me."
The Emperor averted his face at these words. The positions were
reversed; the judge stood condemned by his prisoner, and here found
himself face to face with a power, which yields to no earthly force.
The Lord knocked at the heart of the Emperor Charles, but it refused
to answer. Fresh indignities were heaped upon the unfortunate
Elector. The Emperor was not ashamed to drag him in triumph through
Germany, and even permitted the Spanish guards to exhibit him for
money to the curious multitude.
The prisoner's chief consolations were the Bible and Luther's
writings, of which he often said, that they penetrated body and soul,
and that when he compared other writings with those of Luther, he
found in a single page from the latter, more strength, and spiritual
nourishment, and consolation, than in a. whole book by another. To
strike his tenderest spot, the Emperor deprived him of these
treasures. His Court-preacher, Master Christopher Hofman, who had
been permitted to accompany him, and preach to him the pure word of
God, came one day with tears to bid him farewell--at the Emperor's
command.
The Elector remained calm and undaunted. "Even though they have
taken my books, yet they cannot tear from my heart the lessons I have
learned from them; and even though you go, dear Hofman, the Lord will
remain with me."
When the Emperor found himself powerless to influence the Elector, he
endeavored to persuade his sons to accept the Interim. But they
refused to act without their father's sanction. His message to them
was, "if God's mercy and their father's love were dear to them, to
abide steadfastly by his former answer and declaration; and not to
suffer themselves to be intimidated, or turned aside, even though the
last remnant of their inheritance were taken from them, and still
greater dangers threatened. The Almighty God would not forget them,
but would graciously protect and defend them."
Great numbers of the Lutheran clergy, refusing to acknowledge the
Interim, were driven into misery,--those of Augsburg with the rest.
They refused to leave the city, without the blessing of the princely
martyr, who just then happened to be in Augsburg.
John Frederick was deeply moved by their words, and turned away to
hide his tears; but he speedily conquered himself, and addressing the
men, asked: "And has the Emperor forbidden you the entrance to
heaven?"
"No," was the answer.
"Then, my friends," cried the Elector, "do not despair. Be of good
cheer,--heaven is ours still; and God will surely show you a place
upon this earth, where you will be permitted to preach his word." He
reached into his wallet. "Here is all that I possess in the world.
I wish to give you something on the way. Share it with your
brethren. My God will provide for me further, I trust."
When his fellow-prisoner, the Duke Ernst of Brunswick-Luneberg, began
to despair, John Frederick comforted him: "Do not distress yourself.
Since we have been worsted in the struggle, let us arm ourselves with
patience, and we shall overcome in the end. Let us show by our
actions, that we despise misfortune, and thus shall we wrest the
victory from our enemy's hand. This is the true manner of taking our
revenge."
A second year of misery was added to the first; the hope of
deliverance grew ever fainter; but John Frederick continued true to
himself,--a hero in the warfare of faith. Like David of old, the
God-fearing monarch, in the midst of his affliction, sounded his harp
and a psalm rang forth from his prison,--a psalm, whose notes to this
day appeal to each human heart, bringing strength, and peace, and
consolation:
"As God hath willed, so too will I,[1]
And naught my trust shall alter,
In trial and perplexity.
O, may I never falter.
All things that be,
God certainly
For purpose wise is sending;
What He hath willed
Must be fulfilled,
To reach a blessed ending.
"As God hath willed it must abide,
Self-will would but mislead me:
Forbidden joys I'll cast aside,
And graciously He'll heed me.
Howe'er it seem,
I'll rest in Him;
His grace is with me surely;
Howe'er it seem,
I'll rest in Him,
Whose purpose stands securely.
"As God hath willed, I shall obey,
In all to Him submitting,
Who can His mighty Will gainsay?
He doth what is befitting.
Wisdom, nor wit,
Can alter it.
Nor sorest grief, nor passion;
My murmuring
No change could bring,
His hand my way doth fashion.
"As God hath willed, so I will choose,
His promises believing,
Obedience never more refuse,
But ever to Him cleaving,
Cast off my fears:
All days and years
Are by His law designed.
In this secure:
His Word is sure,
I'm to His laws resigned.
"As God hath willed, unchanged shall stay,
As well the birds might sorrow!
If hope forsake the home to-day,
'Tis to return to-morrow.
The gifts of God
Are well bestowed;
And, if He seem unheeding,
Still let me say,
Most thankfully,
Unto my good 'tis leading."
Even as, long years ago, Luther's theses, as if borne on angel's
wings, had flown through the length and breadth of Germany, thus it
was with this song of the captive prince. In a wondrous manner, its
strains over-leaped the prison-walls, ringing forth into the world,
for thousands to hear. People sang it in the churches; troubled and
stricken souls, praying for guidance, found in it the help they
sought; and to the conscience of many an one who had fallen from the
faith, it came as a messenger of justice from God.
Luther's widow had fastened a copy of the hymn upon the wall opposite
her bed; each morning, it greeted her as a voice from above, and each
morning she thanked the Elector anew, who herewith gave her more,
than he had ever given her in the days of his prosperity.
Money and bread he no longer had to bestow, yet he remained her
benefactor, who, until the day of her death, kept his promise to the
widow. The stubborn and unbelieving human heart is so prone, in its
trouble, to see no further than the present moment, and to regard its
own affliction as exceeding all other. But when the cross bearer
learns to look about him, and finds that some are still more heavily
burdened, he takes heart, to bear his own trials with a meek and
quiet spirit. It sometimes seemed to Katharine, as though her burden
were heavier than she could bear, and the world's neglect of the
widow of him who had been the benefactor of Christianity, appeared
doubly shameful. But when she thought of her beloved sovereign, of
his heroic endurance, his humble resignation, her cross lost half its
weight, and with a blush of shame, she asked forgiveness of God for
her faint-heartedness.
This was a glimmer of light in the night of her sorrow, and now at
last, a star arose upon her horizon, bringing her a heavenly greeting.
It was on New Year's Day in the year 1552. Katharine has just
received the congratulations of her children, when Bugenhagen
entered, and from the depths of his kind, faithful heart, spoke to
the widow words of comfort and encouragement.
When Katharine had expressed her own hearty good wishes for his
welfare during the coming year, Bugenhagen continued: "I greatly
wondered, for what cause the King of Denmark made no reply to our
repeated petitions in your behalf, knowing as I do, his kind and
merciful heart, and he having regularly transmitted to Melanchthon
and myself our usual pension. Yesterday a young man came to me, who
has travelled much, and was employed as Secretary at the Danish
Court, whither he is shortly to return. When I expressed to him my
surprise that the king had thus withdrawn his accustomed aid, he was
much astonished, and could not otherwise explain the matter, than
that the letters must have miscarried; for, as he said, the
conversation one day turned upon the widow of Dr. Luther, when one of
the royal officers said that no doubt she was in comfortable
circumstances, as she had not petitioned his majesty for a
continuance of the pension. Herefrom, dear Mistress Luther, you
perceive that the king knows nothing of your need. I would therefore
advise you to venture another letter, which I will entrust to the
secretary, when he leaves, and I trust that it will not prove
fruitless."
Katharine thanked her friend, and did as he advised. When she
learned that the young man purposed to set out upon his journey on
the 9th of January, she sat down and wrote:
"Most gracious lord! Accept my humble service and my feeble prayers
to God in your majesty's behalf.
Your majesty doubtless remembers, that my dear husband, of blessed
memory, also Master Philip Melanchthon and Dr. Bugenhagen received
annually from your majesty a pension, toward the support of their
families; which has heretofore been regularly paid out to Dr. Pommer
and Master Philip. And inasmuch as my dear husband was well-inclined
to your majesty, regarding you as a most Christian king, and as your
majesty at all times greatly favored my husband--for which I am
humbly grateful--I feel myself constrained, by reason of my great
need, to petition your majesty, hoping that you will pardon this
request of a poor widow. I would pray, that this money be continued
to me. Your majesty doubtless knows how, since my husband's death,
war and trouble have visited our land; how the poor have been
oppressed, and how many have been made widows and orphans, so that
one cannot but feel pity, all of which were too long to relate. For
these and other reasons, I am forced to make this appeal, trusting
that your majesty will kindly grant my petition, and receive the
reward of the Almighty God, who is the friend of widows and orphans.
Into the keeping of that same God, the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ, I commend your majesty, praying that He may grant you long
life for the sake of His Church, and graciously keep and preserve you
from all danger to body or soul. Amen."
"Your Majesty's humble servant,
"KATHARINE LUTHER,
"Dr. Martin's Widow.
"_On the 8th of January, in the year 1532._"
When Katharine gave the letter to Dr. Bugenhagen to read, he added
these few words: "Father Luther's widow is in sore straits, and
therefore petitions your majesty for relief, having, together with
her neighbors, suffered great losses during the year."
On the following day the secretary left, carrying the letter with
him, which he delivered into the king's own hands.
Once more, Katharine was obliged to take from the corner cupboard
three silver cups, and to carry them to the silver-smith, but she
went with a lighter heart, feeling that help was near.
She was not deceived, for sooner than she dared to hope, on the 20th
of March, a messenger from the King of Denmark brought her fifty
ducats, with the king's greeting.
Here was another glimpse of sunshine in the dreary life of her
widowhood, and a renewed assurance that the God of our fathers still
lived. His faithfulness and mercy had even better things in store
for her,--his angel was already upon the way--bringing His message to
the sufferer: "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be
comforted."
[1] Translated by Miss Mary Welden.