Victorian Culture/Marriage of Luther

Luther came to Melanethon’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 some thing 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,” he said, “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?”
“No, sir,” she replied.
“Perhaps you have scruples on the score of monastic vows; if so, I will make 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 arouse 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 have you, ‘for better and for worse.’”
Catharine’s colour rose, and her eyes sparkled with additional brightness.

“How 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 principles of conscience on the subject; if you have, God forbid that I should urge you.”

“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 will 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.

“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,” he said 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 …

“…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?”
“Anything 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 to him,” replied she.
“Is there anyone else that you like better?” said Luther.
She made no reply.
“Nay, speak; I have every disposition to serve you. Has any other person made the same proposition to you?”
“Yes,” said Catharine, with a little womanly pride; “Counsellor Baumgartner has made the same proposals.”
“Do you prefer him?”
“Yes,” she replied, rising; “but I am as happy as I ever expect to be. My friends assure me that I am no burden, but a help to them; and so I wish you good morning.”

Poor Catharine hastened to her room. Her dream was over. Luther, a austere, the insensible reformer, has 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.

“There is no hope for Bodenstein,” though Luther; “it is evident Baumgartner is the object. Catharine is a child; if the Elector dies she is without a support, except by the labour of her hands, and they do not look as if they were made for labour. I will write to Jerome Baumgartner; he is well known as a young counsellor at Nuremberg.”

Accordingly he wrote:

“1524, October 12.
“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 the letter with ………

…. On his mind, and he thought the wisest plan was to enclose the letter to her, and to inquire whether it was written with her sanction.

In the meantime, Luther’s friends began to urge him to marry, particularly Melanethon. “You preach.” Said he “what you do not practice.”

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 mystery is out.”

It required all the evidence to convince Luther of the truth of this assertion; he was forty, and Catharine but little more than half that number of years; that she could prefer him to her young suitors seemed to him incredible. Margaret, however, had said it, and a new life opened to Luther, in the affection of a young and beautiful woman.

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 so much the reverie of her silent hours. The betrothment took place, and very soon the marriage followed.

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