Count Ulrich of Lindburg Part 4

"And now, dear father, I must tell you that I cannot longer endure this life. It was only while I believed that I was doing G.o.d service that I loved it. Now I am certain that it is directly contrary to His law. I have read the New Testament carefully with prayer, and I can find nothing there to sanction it. We are told not to bow down to images-- not to use vain repet.i.tions in prayers; we are employed the greater part of each day in doing these two things. We invoke dead saints, we worship the Virgin Mary, we fast, we perform penances to merit heaven, and all the time the Bible tells us that there is but one Mediator between G.o.d and man, Jesus Christ, and that by repentance and through faith in Him can we alone become righteous and meet to enter the kingdom or heaven. I cannot tell you one-half of the objections I have to remain here. There are also eight other nuns who desire to leave, and they have written to their parents to the same effect, though some of them tremble as to what will be the answers; others say that there was so much grief when they went away, that they are certain that there will be rejoicing to get them back. I know how sorry you and mother and Laneta were when I left home, that I have no doubt that you will be glad to have me return. But how are we to get away?--there is the difficulty. We know that we are watched, and that every effort will be made to detain us."

"I have no doubt that there will!" exclaimed Eric. "Sister Ursula, as they call their lady abbess, would move heaven and earth to detain them if she knew that they wished to escape. Do not write, lest the letter should fall into the old dame's hands; but let me go with Albert, and depend on it we shall find means before long of letting out the caged birds."

The Knight, without saying what Albert proposed, showed Ava's letter to Dame Margaret. She was horrified.

"What! a professed nun break her vows?" she exclaimed. "A bride of Christ forsake her bridegroom! Horrible profanity! No. I love Ava as my daughter, but I can never receive one who is so utterly neglectful of all her religious obligations. You must write and tell her that is impossible to comply with her request. I am sure Father Nicholas will agree with me."

"Dear wife," said the Knight, calmly, "When I allowed our little Ava to become a nun, it was to secure, as I thought, her happiness in this life and the next. She tells us that, in one respect, our object has signally failed, and there is a book I have been reading which convinces me that it will not advance in one single respect our object with regard to the other. Therefore, let our dear Ava come home, and do you and Laneta receive her as should her mother and sister. I mean what I say, Margaret, and advise Father Nicholas to hold his tongue about the matter."

The Lady Margaret, watching her lord's eye, and being a discreet woman, came to the conclusion that it would be wise to keep silent, but she secretly resolved to use every exertion to prevent so terrible a scandal taking place in her family. The Knight, however, was an old soldier, and suspecting what was pa.s.sing in the mind of his better half, determined to be beforehand with her.

"She will be writing to that Sister Ursula to keep the poor little dove under double lock and key," he said to himself. "Eric will have a difficulty even to get a sight of her. I must tell him what I suspect, and leave it to him to foil the plans of his lady mother; she is a good woman though, an excellent woman in her way, but she would have been much the better it we had never been saddled with Father Nicholas. I will make him go the right-about one of these days, when he least expects it, if he does not reform his system. And here, Eric you will want money. Don't stint in the use of it. It will accomplish many things. Silver keys open locks more rapidly than iron ones, and I would give every coin I possess to get our dear little Ava back again."

Eric and his friend, meantime, were making preparations for their journey, and as soon as their horses could be got ready they rode off.

They were, however, seen by Dame Margaret, who immediately suspected where they were going. Unfortunately, Father Nicholas had just then entered the Castle. She forthwith told him all she knew and thought, and urged him to find a quick messenger, who would outstrip the young men and warn the lady abbess. Father Nicholas hurried off with a purse which the lady put into his hand, to find a person to carry his message, resolving to take the credit to himself of the information he was sending.

Ava Lindburg and her companions in the monastery of Nimptsch were eagerly awaiting the reply to the letters they had written to their homes requesting permission to return. They were all young, and several of them pretty; but as they had been among the most sincere of the sisterhood, so they had the most rigidly performed all the fasts, penances, vigils, imposed on them, and already the bloom of youth had departed, and the pallor or the ascetic had taken its place.

Poor girls! they had sought peace, but found none; they desired to be holy, but they had discovered that fasts, penances, and vigils--the daily routine of formal services--long prayers, oft repeated, had produced no effect; that their spirits might be broken by this system, but that it could change their hearts.

"We are shut out from the great world, certainly," wrote one of them, "but we have one within these walls, and a poor miserable, trivial, life-frittering, childish, querulous, useless, hopeless set of inhabitants it contains. This is not the house of Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus--this is not such an abode as Jesus would desire to lodge in.

If He were to visit us, it would be to tell us to go forth into the world to fulfil our duties as women, not, like cowards, to shrink from them, to fight the good fight of faith, to serve Him in the stirring world into which He came, in which He walked, in which He lived, that He might be an example to us. Though He has not come to our convent, He has sent us a message full of love and compa.s.sion--His Testament, the Gospel--and it has given us fresh life, fresh hopes, fresh aspirations; and through its teaching we are sure of the Holy Spirit which He promised. Other books have been sent us to a.s.sist in opening our eyes.

We are convinced that this mode of life is not the one for which we were born; that it is a life, not of holiness, but of sin, for it is useless, for it is aimless, for it is against the teaching of the Gospel."

The answers came at length. Tears flowed from the eyes of some, sobs burst from the bosoms of others, while several turned paler even than before, and their hands hung hopelessly by their sides. Many of the letters were full of kind expressions, while other parents chided their daughters harshly for contemplating the possibility of breaking their vows, and abandoning the life of holiness to which they were devoted; but one and all wound up by declaring that they would not allow such a stigma to rest on their n.o.ble families as would arise were they to encourage a daughter to abandon her holy calling. Little Ava received no answer to her epistle sent by the colporteur, and she was eagerly looking out for his return. He had told her how eagerly her father had bought his books, and she had still some hopes that the reply would be favourable. She could not, however, fail to observe the severe look with which the lady abbess regarded her, and she was still more alarmed when she found that her Testament, and several books by Drs. Melancthon and Luther, had been taken out of her cell. In truth, the lady abbess had received the communication sent by Father Nicholas, and was on the watch, expecting to see the gay young student, Eric of Lindburg, and his companion arrive, intending afterwards to commence a system of severe punishment on the offending Ava. The lady abbess was not aware that Ava was only one of many whose eyes had been opened, and who desired their freedom.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

One bright afternoon, in the month of May, 1524, a light waggon, driven by a venerable-looking person with a long white beard, stopped before the gate of the convent of Nimptsch, and from out of it stepped a merchant of equally venerable and still more dignified appearance. He begged the portress to present his humble respects to the lady abbess, with a request that he might be allowed to offer for sale to the n.o.ble ladies numerous articles which they might find acceptable. The lady abbess, having carefully surveyed the venerable merchant and his driver through a lattice above the gate, was satisfied that they might, without danger, be admitted into the court-yard. The horses were, however, somewhat restive, and it required, evidently, all the strength the old driver possessed to keep them quiet while his master took out his bales and boxes, and conveyed them, with somewhat feeble steps, into the room were strangers, such as he, were received. An iron grating ran across it, within which the nuns were collected; but there existed a small window, through which articles could be handed for inspection.

The merchant evidently understood the tastes and requirements of nuns.

There were silks for embroidery and gold-thread, and beads, and pencils, and brushes, and colours for illuminating missals, and paper and writing materials, and various manufactures for making artificial flowers; he had even spices and mixtures for making confectionery. There was linen also, coa.r.s.e and fine, and all the materials of the exact hue required by the sisters for their dresses; indeed, it would have been difficult to say what there was not in Herr Meyer's waggon which the nuns could possibly require. The price, too, at which he sold his goods was remarkably low, and the nuns of Nimptsch were not at all averse to making good bargains. Unfortunately, however, he discovered that he had only brought specimens of many of the articles. His large waggon he had left at Torgau. He would, therefore, take the orders with which the holy ladies might honour him, and return next day with the goods.

The merchant, Herr Meyer, was better than his word, for he returned the next day not only with the articles ordered, but with many other curious things, which he had brought, he said, for the inspection and amus.e.m.e.nt of the ladies, and the servants and attendants in the house; the good portress especially was remembered. There were carriages and animals which ran along the ground by themselves, and a house in which a door opened, when out of it came a c.o.c.k which crowed, and then a small bird came out of an upper window and sang, and then a woman looked out to ascertain what the noise was about. Numerous toys of a similar character the merchant had brought, he said, from Nuremburg.

Meantime the horses in the waggon became very frisky, the merchant, therefore, went down, with most of his boxes to help quiet them, he said, leaving the abbess and her nuns busily engaged with the toys; the portress, too, was still watching the c.o.c.k coming out of the house and crowing, and the bird singing, and the woman looking out to see what it was all about.

"These horses will be doing some mischief, Karl, if they stay shut up in this court-yard," exclaimed the merchant. "I will open the gate, and then if they choose to gallop off they will soon get tired, and you can come back for me and my goods."

Suiting the action to the word, he undid the bars of the gate, and Karl drove through, pulling up, however, directly he was outside. The portress ran out, for such a thing as allowing a stranger to open the gate was against all rule.

"Stay, I have some more curious things," said the merchant. And he stepped into the waggon.

Just at that moment something must have startled the horses, for they set off at full speed, the driver in no way attempting to stop them.

The lady abbess and the nuns looked out through the bars of the windows, expecting to see Herr Meyer, after his horses had had a good gallop, return with the other curiosities he had said he possessed. They looked and looked, but they looked in vain. At last they came to the conclusion that some accident had happened. For this they were very sorry, as they all agreed that a more pleasant-spoken, liberal merchant they had never seen. The opinions, however, of the lady abbess and some of the elder sisters were somewhat modified, when at vespers, as all the nuns were a.s.sembled, Sister Ava, and another young and pretty nun, her great friend, Sister Beatrice, were missing. They were not in their cells. The whole convent was searched; they were not to be found.

Never had there been such a commotion among the authorities and elder sisters, though most of the young ones took the matter very quietly, and did not search for what they knew well was not to be found. Remembering the warning she had received, the lady abbess had a strong suspicion that Eric Lindburg was at the bottom of the matter. This was only the beginning of her troubles. Somehow or other, fresh heretical books were introduced into the convent, and the young nuns had so completely mastered the contents of those of which they had been deprived that they were able to discuss them and explain them to the elder sisters. Even the abbess herself could not answer many of their arguments which they boldly put forth, nor indeed could the father confessor, nor the other visiting priests. Of the last one heartily agreed with them, and the others boldly acknowledged that there was a great deal of truth in what they said. Gaining confidence, nine young ladies at last united to support each other, and positively refused to attend ma.s.s or any services when adoration was paid to the Virgin Mary or to the saints, and demanded that as their vows were taken in ignorance, and that as they were directly contrary to the Gospel, they should be released from them, and allowed to return into the world to fulfil their duties as virtuous women and citizens.

Those in authority were astonished and utterly confounded, and hesitated to take any harsh measures. Public opinion they well knew outside the convent walls ran pretty strongly in favour of the nuns' opinions. As their friends would not receive them at home, the young ladies resolved to repair in a body to some respectable place with order and decency.

Through some means their resolution was made known to two pious citizens of Torgau, Leonard Koppe and Wolff Tomitzsch, who offered their a.s.sistance. "It was accepted as coming from G.o.d Himself," says an historian of that time. Without opposition they left the convent, and Koppe and Tomitzsch received them in their waggon, and conveyed them to the old Augustine convent in Wittemburg, of which Luther at that time was the sole occupant.

"This is not my doing," said Luther, as he received them; "but would to G.o.d that I could thus rescue all captive consciences, and empty all the cloisters. The breach is made."

Catharine Bora, who afterwards became his wife, found a welcome in the family of the burgomaster of Wittemburg, and the other nuns, as soon as their arrival was known, were gladly received in other families of similar position. It may here be remarked that the facts of the case completely refute the vulgar notion, put forth by the enemies of the Reformation, that Luther commenced the work of the Reformation for the sake of enabling himself and other monks and priests to marry. His mind was long in doubt whether monks ought to marry. Many months after he became acquainted with the excellent Catharine, when his friends pressed him to marry, he replied:

"G.o.d may change my heart if it is His pleasure, but I have no thought of taking a wife. Not that I feel no attractions in that state, but every day I expect the death and punishment of an heretic."

Not till more than a year after Catharine Bora had escaped from the convent did she become the wife of Martin Luther.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

The Count von Lindburg had been anxiously waiting news from Eric, but none had arrived. The Lady Margaret had been a.s.sured by Father Nicholas that his message had been safely delivered to the Abbess of Nimptsch, and that, in spite of all master Eric and his plausible friend might do, she would take very good care her little prisoner should not escape her.

The Knight was growing anxious; he was afraid that something had gone wrong, when, one afternoon, a light waggon, the horses which drew it covered with foam, drove up to the gate of the Castle. Over the drawbridge it dashed, for the porter did not hesitate to admit it, and a venerable-looking old gentleman, habited as a merchant, descending, handed out two young girls in peasants' dresses. The Knight caught sight of the waggon, and hurrying down, one of the girls was soon in his arms.

"My own Ava! My pet little bird, and you have escaped from your cage!

Welcome--welcome home, and praised be G.o.d who has given me this great blessing!" he exclaimed, again and again kissing her cheek.

His child wept as she hung on the old man's neck. While this was taking place, the other young lady looked about very much astonished and frightened, though there was nothing particularly to frighten her, and the grave merchant was doing his best to rea.s.sure her.

"Well done, Eric, my boy--well done, Albert von Otten!" exclaimed the Knight, when he could bring himself to turn his attention for a moment from his recovered daughter.

"Oh! thank Albert, father; it was he thought of the plan; he designed the whole of it. I merely acted the part he selected for me," answered Eric.

"I thank him heartily, then; for very well done it has been, and you have both my eternal grat.i.tude," said the Knight. "And this young lady, I conclude that she helped you in the undertaking?"

"No; it was they helped me to run away, as Ava did not like to go alone, and she promised me an asylum under your roof."

"And you shall have it, if the Pope and all the cardinals were to come and demand you. They shall pull the walls down before I will give you up. And now tell me who you are, my dear fraulein?"

"I am Beatrice von Reichenau, of Swabia. My father, Count von Reichenau, and my mother decline to receive me, and yet they love me, I am sure; but, alas! they little know the horrors of the life to which they had devoted me."

"Better times will come, my sweet fraulein!" said the Knight, who just then saw everything in a bright light.

Meantime, Dame Margaret, Father Nicholas not being in the Castle, having seen the waggon and the young ladies get out of it, and guessing what had happened, and that her fine scheme had failed, went to the great hall, accompanied by Laneta, that she might receive Ava with becoming dignity, and reprimand her in a manner suitable to her offence. She had just taken her post when the Knight entered with timid little Ava clinging to his arm, looking more sweet and lovable than ever in her becoming peasant's dress, and not a bit like a wicked runaway nun. As soon as she saw her mother, she ran forward and threw herself into her arms, half weeping and half smiling.

"Oh, mother--mother, I am so thankful to see you again!" she cried.

Dame Margaret began her speech, but it would not come out. Nature a.s.serted her rights over bigotry and superst.i.tion; she burst into tears, and, folding her daughter to her bosom, exclaimed, "And I, Ava, am glad to have you, darling!"

"I always said that she was a good woman, and now I am convinced of it,"

said the Knight. "Father Nicholas has done his best to spoil her, but, thank Heaven! he has not succeeded, and his reign is pretty well over, I suspect."

Laneta, who really in her way loved her sister, followed her mother's lead, and embraced Ava affectionately. The Dame Margaret was also not a little gratified when she found that her daughter's companion in her flight was so high-born a girl as Beatrice von Reichenau.