times, and combined them in the most || victim knelt to Frederic for his paternal masterly manner. From that work the blessing. Fervently he gave it. As he following sketch is culled, with but little laid his aged hand upon her youthful head, and affectionately smoothed the alteration in the language. All that is silken hair, so soon to be severed from it, not necessary to illustrate the character he said, Remember, my daughter, in me of the Reformer's wife, is omitted. you will always find a friend." The Nymphal Cloister, under the patronage of Frederic, stood in a low and sheltered valley, inhabited by a small community of nuns. They were a set of holy women, most of them, past the sea-. son of youth; yet, occasionally, a young member was added as a noviciate, and, after, the usual term had expired, took the veil, and pronounced the vows that were to seclude her for ever from the world, Such acquisitions were a source of rejoicing; the aged Abbess looked to them for the preservation of the institution in its vigor and purity, and felt with pious joy, that A flower, when offered in the bud, Is no vain sacrifice.' They were welcomed with delight, and became the pets of the elder nuns. 6 end of that time, Catharine was no lonTwo years passed away, and at the ger cheerful or contented. She arose in the morning, not to hail the glorious sun, as it broke on the darkness of the night, in smiling, contented faces; but to gaze not to see the goodness of God expressed on the emblems of mortality, which were carefully placed opposite her couch,— the skeleton head,-a crucified Jesus writhing in his agonies, not as he was seen glorified on the Mount; and, when she arose and began her early worship of God, it was not to behold him in his glorious temple, but to gaze on the dark, oaken pannels of the ancient building,to see the light dimly entering the high, grated windows,-to join the everlasting chant of the nuns,-to partake in the same ceremonies, morning, noon, and night,-to repeat, again and again, thè same Latin prayers, to confess the same wanderings of mind, to perform similar tion. And this she felt was not to last penance, and to receive the same absolufor a month, or a year, but as long as she lived,-the eternity of this world. Such was Catharine Von Borne, the last scion of a noble, but impoverished family. We must go back to that period to realize, that the tenderness of her parents consigned her to this dreary abode, while yet too young to realize the worldly sacrifices which she was called to make. Full of cheerful gayety, she left the parental dwelling with the assurance, that, if she wished, she might return to it after the period of her noviciate had expired. There are few who have courage to assert this right, at that time considered little more than nominal. Catharine was grateful to the nuns for their kindness; her parents had virtually cast her off; the world was a vast wilderness to her; here were her best friends, and the altar of her religion, and here she determined to remain. Frederic, whose munificence had often been exercised towards the convent, was requested to be present when she took the veil. The ecclesiastics considered it for the interest and prosperity of the institution, that it should be public. All the nuns talked of Luther; all had Many young women might be excited to some new anecdote to.relate. Many refollow such a noble example by witnes-membered his coming to the cloister to sing it, and what pious Roman Catholic would not aid in consecrating a life to God? Dressed in the splendid costume which she was so shortly to renounce, and loaded with borrowed jewels, the innocent Luther's tracts penetrated everywhere; the peasantry sang his hymns to the tune of Old Hundred, the music of which he composed. Many a wandering report found its way to the valley, and thence to the cloister.. Visiters told the story at the grate, how a monk had dared to brave the Pope and the mighty potentates of Europe. Some listened with pious horror; but not so the young Catharine.-) Her ardent and enterprising mind was astonished by the novelty of his doctrines, and captivated by his intrepidity. She questioned every one that came to the grate, made them repeat in what his new dogmas consisted, and caught the spirit of his language. shrive a dying nun, and administer extreme unction. Then,' they said, 'he was a holy man, a man of God.' The Abbess said, 'the deep tones of his voice still trembled on her ear as he spoke peace to the dying penitent; she still 284 Catharine Von Borne. heard his low, solemn chant! And his || I have youth and health, and can make eye, too; that eye which seemed to look myself useful; I do not fear for the fuinto the very soul! Alas, who would ture.' have thought that such a man could fall into the snares of Satan.' Catharine was never tired of hearing the lamentable tale. There were many others of the nuns to whom it was excite ment and variety. Every other topic of the kind was, in a degree, forbidden. But the Abbess said, such a lesson and warning could not be slightly passed over.' They remembered him when they counted their beads, and Luther became the hero of the convent. Some months after this excitement in the Nymphal Cloister took place, a young girl, wrapped in a cloak, stood at the outer door of the palace, and entreated for admittance to the presence of Frederic. She was at first rudely refused; but the soft tones of her voice, and the evident youth and delicacy of her appearance, at length interested one of the attendants, and he consented to take the name of Catharine Von Borne to the Elector. Frederic ordered her to be introduced, and, with a trembling step and downcast eyes, she appeared before him. 'What has brought you here?' said he, in a voice less mild than usual. 'My conscience,' she replied, and your promise, that you would always be a friend to me.' 'But why are you not at the nunnery?' 'I left it-the ceremonies-the worship-all-I have renounced, and embraced the new faith.' This is an unheard-of step for so young a person.' 'God speaks to the young as well as to the old. I could not remain there. I felt that it was hypocrisy to be offering vows at an unknown altar. God forgive me for having so long ignorantly done it.' 'Did you leave the convent alone?' 'No, Sire-I left it with eight others; but they all have resources-I alone am friendless.' 'Poor child,' said the Elector, yielding to his natural sympathies. Hitherto Catharine had remained firm and collected; but the voice of kindness subdued her resolution, and her tears flowed freely. When she recovered her equanimity, she said, 'I came not, Sire, to move your compassion, but to request you to place me in some respectable family where I may earn a living. That, and freedom of conscience, are all I ask. 'Have you no wish to return to your parents?' said the Elector. 'I do know of a family, Catharine,' said the Prince, which would receive you with my recommendation; but it is the abode of innocence and truth. If any unworthy motives mingle with your renunciation of your ancient faith-tremble to enter it.' 'Are they of the reformed faith?' inquired Catharine, with a faltering voice. 'They are.' "Then trust me,' said she, with energy. The Prince wrote a few lines, and, sending for Spalatinus, said, 'Take this young person, with the letter, to Philip Melancthon. God bless you, my child,' said he, in a softened voice, as she left the apartment. Catharine was received by Philip and his wife with the most cordial kindness. He was himself too deeply imbued with the doctrines of the Reformation to be surprised at any step a convert might take. She became at once a member of their family; and, by her sweetness and cheerfulness, added new enjoyment to their happy lot. There was another member of the household that held an important place; this was an invaluable servant by the name of John. He took the whole care of providing for the family, leaving his master the free exercise of his time for literary pursuits, making their concerns his own, and avoiding all useless expenditure. This was highly important, as their means were small. Such was the home which Catharine had found. Without being obliged to perform any menial offices,she made herself useful and important to her kind friends, and they blessed God for having brought them together. She often spoke of the friends she had left in the convent with tender affection. They were good and pious,' said she, and found peace and tranquillity in a monastic life. They did not, like me, remember too well the free and happy days of childhood, to submit cheerfully to their lot. There were none with whom my heart communed, and I had but one thing to love.' "What was that? Margaret eagerly || Virgin Mary. The Abbess in her zeal inquired. bade us read the books, that we might learn to abhor the writer. I read them and learned to bless him. His books and his doctrines yet live; but they say he was murdered in the forest of Thuringia. Do not believe it,' said the wife, with animation, will not God preserve his anointed? I am sure that he lives; my Philip has not so spoken, but I read it in every look and gesture. I doubt not but he is bound by some promise of secrecy, or he would tell me so.. We shall yet see Martin Luther-he will again enter our humble dwelling-we shall hear the deep, tones of his voice-we shall see again the light of his eye.' -- I think I should tremble before it," said Catharine. 'It was a little bird that flew into my window. How I welcomed it! It seemed to bring in a portion of the joy and gladness without. I petitioned the Abbess to let me keep it; she kindly consented; yet, when I saw it struggle to be free, and beat its head against the wires of its prison, I opened the door to let it fly through the grated window; it did not see the way out, and I was too selfish to repeat the experiment. It became my idol— ah, it was too true, the nuns said so and they told me I was perilling my own soul for a little bird! I confessed my sin for I was faithful in my confessions. The penance enjoined was not merely to give it liberty, but to take its life with my own hand-the hand that had so long cher-No, you would not; none but the ished it, and that it had learned to caress. wicked tremble before it.' I could not do it. I knelt before the altar of the Virgin, and, in the darkness of my superstition, entreated her by some sign to release me from the terrible penance enjoined. At the moment I looked at her, hoping for some indication, my When Martin Luther, at the death of bird, that I had attached by a string, sud-Leo, left his seclusion, he hastened to the denly perched on her finger, which pointed towards heaven. He is free,' I exclaimed, and I am absolved from the cruel deed. I unfastened the string, and held him to the window; he fluttered there awhile, perched on the iron grates, and hovered round, then spread his wings. I watched him till he was lost in the blue ether, and I saw him no more.' 'Dear Catharine,' said the wife of Melancthon, this is all a fable; it is your own story you are relating; ah, I see it. by your tears.' No,' she replied, it is all true; but I weep because it is so much like my own ́story. It was two years ago that, it took place, two years before my conscience was released from its struggles, and my faith unfolded its wings and soared towards heaven.". Did your convictions come all at once?' O no, they were gradual. If the sun should burst upon us in all its glory, it would dazzle and blind us. The books of Martin Luther found their way to the convent; they spoke of a life passed in the free service of God,-of the holiness of virtuous friendship,-of the active services of benevolence, of the superstitious and blind adoration of Saints,-of the impiety of offering our vows to the He must be very old,' said Catharine. 'Not so very old,' said her companion, thoughtfully; but he is a good many years older than my Philip; I think he must be forty.' house of Melancthon, in Wittemberg, and was received with delight by his friends. Margaret informed him, that Catharine Von Borne, a nun from the Nymphal Cloister, was under their protection. Luther expressed his satisfaction, that she had found such an asylum, and said she, with a number of others, had been commended to his care. He expressed an be done for the poor and suffering eccleearnest desire, also, that something might siastics. While Luther and Melancthon were ret hastened to the apartment of Cadeeply engaged in conversation, Margatharine. "Who do you think has arrived?' she exclaimed. 'Perhaps Bodenstein,' said Catharine, with an expression of disgust. 'No,' said Margaret, 'Carolstadt 'No.'. Catharine was silent. 286 Catharine Von Borne. 'But you must; I will not go without || the subject; if you have, God forbid that you.' I should urge you.' O Margaret,' said Catharine, while the tears gushed from her eyes, have pity upon me, do not urge me now; I am not prepared; it is not a slight thing to see the being who has opened the door of my prison, and, what is far more, taught me the worship of the true God.' 'Another time, then, it shall be,' said Margaret; 'you poor little bird, that are frightened because you have escaped from your cage.' Some time after, Luther came to Melancthon's house, and requested to see Catharine alone. Margaret hastened to her, and gave her the message. She entreated her friend to return with her. 'That would not do,' replied Margaret; 'he said expressly alone; he undoubtedly has something very particular to say.Now, Catharine, take courage and open your heart.' Poor Catharine went with trembling steps to the presence of Luther. 'I have sent for you, my child,' said he, 'to converse on the subject of matrimony; I hope you are convinced it is a holy state.' 'Yes, sir,' said Catharine. 'Are you prepared to embrace it?". 'Perhaps you have scruples on the score of monastic vows; if so, I will mark some passages I have written on that subject, that may set your mind at rest.' Catharine was silent. 'I perceive, that I do not make much progress in my purpose. I am little used to these matters, and I had better be direct.' 'Do you mean to abide by your monastic vows, or will you marry, like a rational woman?' This direct appeal seemed to rouse her courage. "Even Doctor Martin Luther has no right,' said she, 'to ask that question without explaining his motive.' 'Well said, Kate,' replied he laughing; 'I must tell you, then.' 'There is a person who would gladly take you 'for better and for worse.' Catharine's color rose, and her eyes sparkled with additional brightness. 'Now say, has he any chance?' 'You have not told me who he is,' said she, resolutely. 'And you have not told me whether you have any scruples of conscience on 'When I left the convent,' said she, in a low voice, 'it was because it would have been hypocrisy in me to have remained there. I took the vows ignorantly, and almost by compulsion; I embraced the Reformed Religion with an inquiring and willing faith. God forgive me, that I so long offered him the worship of my lips, while my heart was far from him.' And now?' said Luther, after waiting for her to finish her sentence. 6 'Now,' she replied, I need not ask his forgiveness for worshipping him in spirit and in truth. I am no longer a nun.' 'Well,' said Luther, 'I suppose this is as direct an answer as I must expect. So, to my purpose.' But even Luther stopped short, surprised at Catharine's emotion. 'Perhaps, my dear,' said he kindly, 'I do wrong in speaking to you myself; I had better commission Margaret. I suppose women converse on these matters better together, and yet, as I have begun, I will finish. The other day, Bodenstein, the nephew of Carolstadt, came to me to solicit my influence with you. He wishes you to marry him. I told him, I could have no particular influence with you, unless you had scruples of conscience about marrying. He is a clever young man, and I see no objection. He is very unlike his fanatic uncle.' He might have talked an hour without receiving a reply. Catharine's manner had changed; there was no longer the emotion or the blush. 'What shall I tell him?' 'Any thing you please,' said she, 'so that I never see him again.' 'Why, this is strange,' said Luther; 'you did not seem to have scruples of conscience just now. My dear Catharine, you must not forget that you have no natural relations here, and this young man can be a protector to you.' 'I wish you would not speak of him,' replied she. Is there any one else that you like better?' said Luther. happy as I ever expect to be. My friends young suitors seemed to him incredible. assure me, that I am no burden, but a Margaret, however, had said it, and a new help to them; and so I wish you good-life opened to Luther, in the affection of morning a young and beautiful woman. Poor Catharine hastened to her room. Her dream was over. Luther, the austere, the insensible Reformer, had awakened her from it. Margaret entered while her eyes were yet red with weeping. She tenderly approached, and embraced her; but neither exchanged a word. When he spoke to Catharine again on the subject of matrimony, he was more successful than before. He learned the history of her long attachment, which had become too much the reverie of her silent hours. The betrothment took place, and very soon the marriage followed.. An account of it is given by Melancthon to Camerarius, his friend, in a Greek letter. 'As some unfounded reports will pro "There is no hope for Bodenstein,' thought Luther; 'it is evident Baumgartner is the object. Catharine is a child; if the Elector dies, she is without a sup-bably reach you respecting the marriage port, except by the labor of her hands, and they do not look as if they were made for labor. I will write to Jerome Baumgartner; he is well known as a young counsellor at Nuremberg. Accordingly, he 'If you would obtain Catharine Von Borne, hasten here before she is given to another who proposes for her. She has not yet conquered her love for you. I shall rejoice to see you united. 'LUTHER.'* The young counsellor received this letter with surprise and incredulity. The positive refusal of Catharine, some months before, had left no doubt on his mind; and he thought the wisest plan was to inclose the letter to her, and inquire whether it was written with her sanction. In the mean time, Luther's friends began to urge him to marry, particularly Melancthon. 'You preach,' said he, 'what you do not practise.' He protested, however, that he would not be caught in the snare; that his time was now fully occupied. When Catharine received the letter from her former lover, she was filled with astonishment; and requested Margaret to speak to Luther on the subject. He said he had done what he thought was right and would be agreeable to all parties; but he found there was one science he did not understand, the heart of a woman. That is true,' said Margaret, or you would long since have perceived, that Catharine's was yours, and now the tery is out.' mys of Luther, I think it proper to inform you of the true state of the case, and to give you my own opinion. On the 13th of June, to our great surprise, Luther married Catharine Von Borne, and only invited Luca the painter, Pomeranus, and Appelles the lawyer, to supper in the evening. Some may be astonished, that he should have married at this unfavorable juncture of public affairs, so deeply afflicting to every good man, and thus appear to be unaffected and careless about the distressing events which have occurred amongst us; even though his own reputation suffers at a moment when Germany most requires his talents and influence. This, however, is my view of the subject. Luther is a man who has nothing of the unsocial misanthrope about him; but you know his habits, and I need say no more on this head. Surely it is no wonderful and unaccountable thing, that his great and benevolent soul should be influenced by the gentle affections. I have long had in my possession the most decisive evidences of his piety and love to God.' The Empire of Woman.-The good government of families leads to the communities, and the welfare of the state. Of of the purest and deepest joy-home is every domestic circle, home-that scene the empire of woman. There she plans, directs, performs--the acknowledged female virtue is most pure, female sense source of dignity and felicity. Where most improved, female deportment most correct, there is most propriety of social manners. The early years of childhood, those most precious years of life and opening reason, are confined to woman's superintendence; she, therefore, may be presumed to lay the foundation of all the virtues and all the wisdom that enrich the world. |