AMONG THE HEATHER
JANUARY 6th, 1580. The MS. book father gave me on my twelfth birthday was filled long ago. Its brown leather covers are faded and stained with the waves that so often threatened to swamp our little boat on the never-to-be-forgotten night when dear old Jacob Anderzon's farm was swept away by the terrible flood that followed the bursting of the dykes; more than one ink-blot disfigures its pages, but he says I am not to destroy it, as the account I have given of the siege of Leyden is really a page of the history of the "Dutch Republic," so he wishes me not to destroy it; and as on New Year's morning I found a new and much larger MS. volume upon my dressing-table, I think I will begin at once to write down some of the events of the last five years, for though many changes have taken place, we, as a family, have proved again and again that "the Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him." (Nah. 1:77The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him. (Nahum 1:7).)
The Prince of Orange has proved himself worthy of the affection and confidence of the people over whom for the last five years he has ruled so well and wisely. Father, who knows him in both his public and private life, always speaks of him as a man whose one great desire appears to be to do the will of God. He cares little for worldly honors, and though he never wishes to give offense, is not easily turned from a purpose when once formed by the praise or blame of others. His marriage with Charlotte de Bourbon proved a very happy one, but his life is still a strange and stormy one; several attempts to shoot or stab him have been made, the last being nearly successful, when a ball fired at him by a would-be assassin entered his cheek, coming out in the lower jaw, and carrying away two teeth in its passage. For many weeks he lay between life and death, nursed with unwearied tenderness and devotion by his wife, who could hardly be persuaded to leave his side to take the rest she so greatly needed.
In answer, as we believe, to a nation's prayers, his life was spared, and he began, though at first very slowly, to recover; but in the midst of our rejoicings came an after-clap of sorrow; we were shocked and grieved at hearing that his faithful wife, worn out with anxiety and watching, had taken a fever, from which she was too weak to rally, and before her husband was able to resume his public duties, she calmly fell asleep in Jesus. The sorrow of the prince was very deep and lasting, but it was, he said, "the will of God," and he must not, dared not, repine.
Now I must record some of the Lord's gracious dealings with my loved home circle. Mother, my patient, gentle mother is far from strong. We think the long strain of the siege of Leyden, and the privations from which we all suffered, told greatly upon her health, for she has never seemed quite the same since; she never complains, and will not own to not being well; only last week we all noticed how pale and thin she was looking, and father pressed her to see a doctor, but she said with her old smile, "O Mark, why should I give the doctor needless trouble when there are so many sick people for him to look after? I am not ill, only tired.”
I am so glad that my being still at home relieves her of nearly all the burden of household cares. She is, if possible, more unselfish than ever; and though sometimes when I look at her pale face and think how empty our home would be without her, a dull pain seems to go through my heart, I am learning, I trust, to cast even this care upon the "Burden Bearer." Truyken is still with us; she is feeling the weight of years, and is not so active as she was, even a few years ago. With all the strength of her warm, loving nature, she has turned away from Rome and its teachings; for “how," she asks, " can a tree be good whose fruit was the terrible Inquisition?” Nearly three years ago she united with the little company of Christians here; she has lost much of her old sharpness of manner, and it is encouraging to watch her growth in grace.
Father is still engaged acting for the prince as steward or secretary of the University. The number of students who attended its opening session was greater than we had even dared to hope. They came from all parts of the Netherlands, Bohemia and Germany. Several of the professors, and nearly half of the students, are openly attached to the reformed faith; and for such our house has all along been a gathering place, many happy hours having been spent in Bible study. How wonderful it seems to us to be allowed to read our Bibles openly, and even in broad daylight! we who so long read them with closed shutters, and kept them in strange hiding-places.
But I must not forget my old playfellow, Paul von Brock. He decided to study medicine, for, as he said, few doors were closed to a doctor. His services would be needed alike in the castle and the cottage, and in each, he believed, God would give him opportunity of witnessing for Christ.
He worked hard, and during a four years' course of study won several college honors, and nearly two years ago sailed for Scotland, where, he said, God would give him an open door, not only in the practice of his profession, but in making known the glad tidings of the gospel among the students who thronged the Scottish capital. The seed-sowing must, we all knew, be a very quiet work, for there is no religious liberty in Scotland, and the Inquisition has a good deal of power; still, as he believed God was directing him there, we dared not urge him to stay with us.
It seems almost too good to be true, but only a few months ago I paid a visit to the land of the heather—such a happy visit! I was away from home nearly six weeks, accompanied and attended by Truyken, as it was not thought safe for me to travel alone. We were the guests of a Bohemian merchant, Herr von Velt, and his sister, the Frau Dorotha Richer. They have been such true and faithful friends to Paul, and it came about in a somewhat remarkable way.
Herr von Velt has been for some years a widower, with one little girl, Elspeth, a sweet little maiden of eight, who won my heart completely. Soon after his arrival in Edinburgh Paul was called in to attend the child, who was ill with a mild form of fever. She was very restless and appeared excited. As Paul took her hand in his to feel her pulse, she said, fixing her large, bright eyes on his face, "You will not tell me to say my prayers to the Virgin Mary, will you? Liza does, but I tell her No, I will only say them to the good Jesus, He loves the little children.'”
“The poor child is wandering; the fever was very high this morning," said her aunt, looking somewhat anxiously at the doctor.
“Would to God we were all in our right minds, as this dear child now is," replied Paul. The merchant, who had been listening unobserved, now came forward, and grasping Paul's hand warmly, said, "If I mistake not, we are brothers in the faith." From that moment they were firm friends. Persecution had driven him from Bohemia; business had detained him in Scotland, and though it was dangerous to meet openly, many a little knot of Christians often met for reading and prayer after nightfall at his house, arriving and leaving singly to avoid notice. At these little gatherings Paul, with one or two of the students who were, he believed, interested in the truth, was often able to be present.
Herr von Velt had much to tell us of the sufferings of the Christians in Bohemia. I had often heard the names of John Huss, and Jerome of Prague, and though I knew that they led its noble army of martyrs, he told me their stories at far greater length than I had ever heard them, repeating the remarkable words John Huss is said to have uttered at the stake. "You may burn the goose (the name Huss means goose in the language of Bohemia), but within a hundred years God will raise up a swan you will not be able to burn.”
It must have been a vision of things to come such as God sometimes grants to the dying, for though Master Martin Luther has many enemies, he still goes on with his work of preaching, writing and translating, work in which he is not alone, for God has given him a band of helpers who in Holland, England and Germany are busy translating not only the scriptures, but the writings of the Reformers, into the language of the people of these countries.
One of Paul's patients was a poor widow woman, Anne Kerr. He found her in a very poor cottage, little better than a hut, and seeing she was very ill, and hardly likely to recover, asked her if she was afraid to meet God? Almost to his surprise she replied "No," and went on to tell him that she was trusting in the precious blood of Christ. Four years ago she had heard one of God's faithful servants preach at the Market Cross; gladly she had drunk in the truth that salvation was by faith alone, and longed to know more.
But the next thing she heard was that the preacher was thrown into prison, and soon after that he had been tried by the Inquisition and sentenced to be burnt alive on the charge of heresy. She could not get near enough to hear his dying words, but she saw his calm and even cheerful bearing, and went to her poor home feeling sure that by his words God had wrought a work in her soul. She had not had courage openly to break with Rome, but when asked by the priest why she did not attend mass, replied that, being very poor, she helped to support her family by acting as a sick-nurse among her neighbors, and not knowing when her services might be called for, seldom left her cottage. When on her sick-bed, it was a source of bitter grief to her that she had not told the whole truth; and so been more faithful to Christ.