CHAPTER XXVII.
MORE TROUBLE.
Great courage and a high degree of trust in God were needed, to face the future. The ruined house might have been repaired, but whichever way the widow turned, she saw only desolation.
"Lord, how long!" sighed the poor woman; but the answer was: Thine hour is not yet come; thou shalt enter still further into the dark valley, but my rod and my staff shall comfort thee.
The war had laid waste a large district. The burdens lay heavily upon the drained and ravaged land. Wearily the peasant ploughed his fields, knowing that others would reap the fruit of his toil. With sorrow, Katharine's thoughts reverted to her beloved Zulsdorf, and the fond hopes she had cherished there. But her dear husband had found another resting-place. She had not been permitted, in the peaceful quiet of Zulsdorf, to comfort his declining years with her loving care. And now, in her widowhood, the care of her children's education made a residence there impossible. She had resigned this wish, but hoped to find in her farm a means of support. In consequence of the war, however, the land had become worthless, and what the horses' hoofs had spared, was claimed by the sovereign for the expenses of the war. Instead of receiving from Zulsdorf, she was obliged to give. And Wachsdorf! She repented bitterly of having urged the purchase of the second estate. The Chancellor Brück, had been right in opposing her!
Again, Melanchthon proved himself a trusty friend and adviser. He petitioned the Elector Moritz to remit her share of the war-taxes, and even accompanied her to Leipsic, to the imperial headquarters, to make her request in person; but all was of no avail.
On all sides, Katharine saw only broken supports. The capital secured for her in Mansfeld yielded no interest; the war had impoverished her friends there, and robbed them of the means of keeping their promise. In Torgau, another sat upon the electoral throne,—a new king had arisen over Egypt, which knew not Joseph; John Frederick, the kind, generous prince, in whom she had placed her hopes, lay in chains, and the Emperor held the pen, which was to sign his death-warrant.
One hope was left,—the king of the Danes, who had on a former occasion proved a friend in need. The widow had been prevented from placing herself personally under his protection, but the ever-ready Melanchthon offered to make an appeal in her behalf to the royal heart. In his petition he pictured in moving words the condition of Luther's widow. Then she waited and hoped, seeing in every stranger that came to her door a possible messenger from the king. But she waited in vain. Had the letter miscarried? or was the king's heart hardened?
Cruel want knocked at Katharine's door, whither in former times so many had come, seeking and finding help and comfort. The world is forgetful, and returns benefactions with ingratitude. Katharine had faithful friends, but they, too, were poor.
Bugenhagen learned to his surprise, that the King of Denmark had made no reply to Melanchthon's petition, and, without telling the widow of his purpose, he again pleaded her cause. But he too hoped and waited for that which never came.
In the meantime, Katharine made a last effort. John, her eldest son, was wasting his time at home, forgetting all that he had learned. By selling the greater part of her remaining trinkets and silverware, she succeeded in raising a few hundred florins. With this money, she repaired the one wing of her house, and took lodgers. God in his goodness directed the hearts of some of these, to have compassion with the widow, and to pay her above what she asked.