Among those who prepared to confess the Evangelical truth, was one, however, whose heart was filled with sadness:--it was Melancthon. Placed between two fires, he saw the Reformed, and many even of his own friends, reproach his weakness; while the opposite party detested what they called his hypocrisy. His friend Camerarius, who visited Augsburg about this time, often found him plunged in thought, uttering deep sighs, and shedding bitter tears.[532] Brenz, moved with compassion, coming to the unhappy Philip, would sit down by his side and weep with him;[533] and Jonas, endeavouring to console him in another manner, exhorted him to take the Book of Psalms, and cry to God with all his heart, making use of David's words rather than of his own. [532] Non modo suspirantem sed profundentem lacrymas conspexi.--(Camer. p. 121.) [533] Brentius assidebat hæc scribenti, una lacrymans.--(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 126.) One day intelligence arrived which formed a general topic of conversation in Augsburg, and which, spreading terror among the partisans of the Pope, gave a momentary relief to Melancthon. It was said that a mule in Rome had given birth to a colt with crane's feet. "This prodigy," said Melancthon thoughtfully, "announces that Rome is near its end;"[534] perhaps because the crane is a bird of passage, and that the Pope's mule thus gave signs of departure. Melancthon had immediately written to Luther, who replied that he was exceedingly rejoiced that God had given the Pope so striking a sign of his approaching fall.[535] It is good to call to memory these puerilities of the age of the Reformers, that we may better understand the high range of these men of God in matters of faith. [534] Romæ quædam mula peperit, et partus habuit pedes gruis. Vides significari exitium Romæ per schismata.--(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 126.) [535] Gaudeo Papæ signum datum in mula puerpera, ut citius pereat.--(L. Epp. iv. p. 4.) [Sidenote: LUTHER'S PRAYER.] These idle Roman stories did not long console Melancthon. On the eve of the 25th June, he was present in imagination at the reading of that Confession which he had drawn up, which was about to be proclaimed before the world, and in which one word too many or too few might decide on the approbation or the hatred of the princes, on the safety or ruin of the Reformation and of the Empire. He could bear up no longer, and the feeble Atlas, crushed under the burden of the world upon his shoulders, gave utterance to a cry of anguish. "All my time here is spent in tears and mourning," wrote he to Vitus Diedrich, Luther's secretary in the castle of Coburg;[536] and on the morrow he wrote to Luther himself: "My dwelling is in perpetual tears.[537] My consternation is indescribable.[538] O my father! I do not wish my words to exaggerate my sorrows; but, without your consolations, it is impossible for me to enjoy here the least peace."