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 BX 4827 .R36 A3 1832 
 Reinhard, Franz Volkmar, 
 
 1753-1812, 
 Memoirs and confessions of 
 
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 IJ)¥ IFMAMZ VOXiJCM A K. li EINJHCAIhLJ^ , 
 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 AND 
 
 CONFESSIONS 
 
 OP 
 
 FRANCIS VOLKMAR REINHARD, S. T. D. 
 
 > 
 
 COURT PREACHER AT DRESDEN. 
 
 1 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN 
 
 BY OLIVER A. TAYLOR, 
 
 Resident Licentiate, Theological Seminary, Andover. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY PEIRCE AND PARKER, 
 No. 9 Cornhill. 
 NEW YORK :~H. C. SLEIGHT. 
 
 Clinton Hall. 
 
 1832. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1832, by Piirck & 
 Parkkr, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The first object of this work is to make the public 
 acquainted with the life and character of the learned, 
 pious, and eloquent F. V. Reinhard of the last genera- 
 tion, for more than twenty years Chief-Court Preacher 
 at Dresden. It is divided into two parts. The first com- 
 prises his letters or confessions, in which he gives an ac- 
 count of his education for the sacred ministry, and a gen- 
 eral criticism of his sermons. These letters were occa- 
 sioned by a review of some of his works in the Hall. Lit. 
 Zeit., and written during the winter evenings of ] 809-10. 
 They have passed through several editions, of which, how- 
 ever, I have seen only the first. While translating Rein- 
 hard's Plan of the Founder of Christianity, I became 
 much interested in these letters ; and deeming them an 
 excellent piece of autobiography, I thought they would 
 constitute an acceptable present to the public ; and having 
 consulted a friend, upon whose judgment I relied, who 
 had also read them, and ascertained the coincidence of 
 his views with ray own in these respects, 1 prepared them 
 for the press. In the mean time, I felt the lieed of mak- 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 ing some additions to them by way of completing the view 
 they give of their author ; and hence, added the memoirs 
 or second part. The translation of the confessions was 
 not a difficult task, but the second part has cost me much 
 and severe labor. It has been drawn chiefly from Botti- 
 ger's Delineation of Reinhard's Character ; a pamphlet 
 rich in materials, but written by an antiquary in an intricate, 
 parenthetical style and full of learned allusions. It con- 
 tains matter, however, drawn from other sources, interwo- 
 ven with ideas of my own, the whole of which has been 
 arranged in the order which struck me as the best.* The 
 likeness which accompanies the volume was originally 
 taken from a portrait of Reinhard, drawn three years before 
 his death, by his brother-in-law Von Charpentier. This 
 portrait was considered an excellent one. It supposes 
 Reinhard to be sitting in his study. With one hand he 
 sustains his head, while with the other resting on the Bible, 
 he holds a manuscript, containing a train of thought de- 
 duced from the Scriptures, in meditating upon which, the 
 light of faith bursts in upon his mind, and he is supposed 
 to exclaim, " Yea, thou art the truth." The look in the 
 original is said to be very striking and destitute of all 
 ambiguity. Much of its expressiveness was lost in the 
 first process of reducing the portrait and engraving it. 
 
 I am aware that the work will, after all, furnish but an 
 imperfect account of Reinhard ; especially so, as all the 
 biographies which have been written of him in Germany, are 
 more or less imperfect, time enough not having yetelapsed 
 to permit many of his letters, directed as they were, to per- 
 sons still on the theatre of action, to be brought from their 
 
 * Perhaps the reader should be informed, that I have not reduced the del-. 
 lars named in the course of the work, to our own currency y and hence, th^t 
 \liey express a httle too much. 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 hiding-places, Fi om what is said, however, the reader will 
 readily perceive, thai Reinhard was no ordinary personage. 
 Few liave been more respected or useful in life, or more 
 sincerely and universally lam>ented in death. The news 
 of his decease clad old and young with mourning, and 
 called forth spontaneous expressions of sorrow from almost 
 every quarter. He appears to have been equally con- 
 spicuous as a scholar, philosopher and Christian. He had 
 no deformities or excrescences of any kind. He was well 
 proportioned in every part, and constituted a harmonious 
 whole. On prying into his character, we meet with no 
 disappointment, nothing offensive. The more we exam- 
 ine it, the more we find to admire. To develop such a 
 chajacter unable as we are to penetrate the sacred inte- 
 rior of the mind, and forced to content ourselves with its 
 external phenomena, is, of course though desirable, a dif- 
 ficult task. It is delightful, however, amidst the pain and 
 disgust felt by every reader of biography, on discovering 
 in its most exalted characters, unanticipated fauhs and de- 
 fects, to find here and there one, which we can contem- 
 plate with pleasure, and examine with satisfaction, con- 
 stantlv cheered with new beauties and excellencies, and 
 assured of something superior beyond. 
 
 My sole object, however, in this work, is not to make 
 the public acquainted with Reinhard's character. From 
 his confessions I fondly hope for some beheficial results to 
 the cause of truth. Not that the views expressed in the 
 ninth letter, which excited such commotion among Ra- 
 tionalists and others in Germany on the first appearance 
 of this work, are new to our country me i. The two prin- 
 ciples there laid down have long been looked upon to a 
 greater or less degree by Evangelical Christians among 
 us, as the only ones in the case to which a consistent think- 
 er can resort, as a third does not exist ; and to reason as 
 
 *1 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 Tzscliirner has done, (see Note, p. 64,) is, as Reinhard 
 justly remarks in a letter to Politz, a petitio elenchi, the 
 contents of the Bible having nothing to do with the ques- 
 tion. I refer to the main object for which these letters 
 were written by Reinhard ; which was, by pointing out 
 the excellencies and defects of his own education, and by 
 various hints, to show young candidates for the sacred min- 
 istry, the course they should take in pr&paring for it, as 
 well as after they have entered upon the performance of 
 its duties. Coming as these letters do, from one of the 
 most distinguished preachers of his age, they must be de- 
 serving of attention in this respect. Will not some, on 
 reading what is said in the sixth letter about eloquence, 
 discover, tliat they have hitherto had wrong conceptions 
 of it, and been unable even to define it ? Will they not 
 be compelled to admit, that they have often spoken in 
 tones of thunder, when they should have spoken in tones 
 of sympathy and tenderness; and by their manner excited 
 strong suspicions of hypocrisy, when they thought them- 
 selves exliibiting the strongest proofs of sincerity ? Will 
 not some, on reading what Reinhard says about the study 
 of the p;;ets, find they have almost entirely neglected it, 
 and hence, failed to use the best means possible, for cuhi- 
 vating susceptibility of emotion, without which, genuine 
 eloquence cannot exist ? And may I not hope, that they 
 will hereafter follow his example, and apply themselves to 
 Milton, Shakespeare, Cowper, and even the imperfect Eng- 
 lish translation of Klopstock's Messiah ? — a work, which 
 by its spirit throws more light upon some passages of the 
 Gospels, than half the commentaries which have ever 
 been written. And may not some when they read what 
 Reinhard says of the importance of general literature to a 
 preacher of the Gospel, find that they are quite deficient 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 in this respect ? Those upon whom this work produces any- 
 such effects, will soon perceive, that liitle time enough is al- 
 lowed the young disciple for a preparatory course, and that 
 all systematic study should not be brought to a close, as it 
 too generally is, as soon as a man is comfortably setded in 
 the ministry. I hope that the motives which have dictated 
 these remarks, will not be misapprehended. That they are 
 well founded, those who reflect upon the subject, will, I fear, 
 find too much reason to believe. I know the ambassador of 
 the cross is not at liberty to turn aside into the field of litera- 
 ture, to pluck a single useless flower. With every branch 
 of study, however, which bears upon the business intrusted 
 to his hands, qualifies him to a greater or less degree, for 
 detecting the sophisms upon which error is founded, and 
 enables him to trace the truth back through nature up to 
 nature's God, he should be intimately acquainted. No 
 matter how ardent his imagination may be, or acute his 
 reasoning powers. The greater his genius in these re- 
 spects, the more necessary is it for him to have a thor- 
 ough training, lest, through ignorance of the history of 
 other men's thoughts, he suppose himself peculiarly favor- 
 ed of heaven, and become a dangerous fanatic. There 
 is no possibility of a minister's being too skilful in reason- 
 ing, or in detecting the movements of the heart. Chris- 
 tianity addresses itself to the noblest faculties of the hu- 
 man soul, and unlike every other religion, challenges the 
 most thorough and extensive investigation ; and in no oth- 
 er way than by a constant exercise of all the faculties of 
 the mind in seeking truth and practising it, can one be 
 suitably qualified to act as a negociator between God and 
 man. Amidst the glorious revivals with which we are 
 blessed, is there no danger of our degenerating in this re- 
 spect from our fathers, those giant minds and rigid student* 
 of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ? But I tread 
 
Vni PREFACE. 
 
 on sacred ground and am entering a field wide and allur- 
 ing, which I must not venture to explore. 
 
 Tlie Lord grant, that the light of truth may beam forth, 
 until Atheism and infidelity, which fade away before it 
 like dew before the sun, are banished from the earth, and 
 Jesus Christ is worshipped as the God of the universe. 
 
 Oliver A. Taylor. 
 
 Andover, Theological Seminary, March l^th, 1832i 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Page. 
 Apology for these letters — Object of them — Reasons which induced the 
 author to publish so many sermons 5 13 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Early education — Instructed by his father — Becomes attached to well- 
 arranged sermons — Learns the ancient languages — Fond of poetry, 
 but destitute of good poets — Gets hold of Haller3 - - - 17 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Father dies — Goes to Regensburg or Ratisbon— Gets hold of other 
 poets — Notice of his instructors — Account of his studies — Admires 
 Cicero — Reads French and Italian works — JN^akes verses j - - 21 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 Answers the questions, why he did not read sermons for personal edi- 
 fication, or ministerial improvement — Remains at Regensburg as 
 auditor — Connexion with Prof. Grimm — Acquires a deep relish for 
 the Crusian philosophy 5 --.-----'27 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 Goes to Wittemberg — Resolves to devote himself to the ministry — 
 Applies closely to the most important studies — Hears Schrockh on 
 church history — Reads Saurin's Passion Sermons— Concludes to re- 
 main and prepare himself for teaching 5 . - , , » 31 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER V I. 
 
 Points out the defects of his education — Exculpates himself for them 
 in part — Warns young- students against them — Means by which he 
 provided for their remedy — Fine description of eloquence, &C.3 - 36 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 Prepares for teaching — Lectures — Becomes Professor Extraordinary 
 of Philosophy, Professor Ordinary of Theology, and Provost of the 
 Castle Church — Passes through a painful struggle with doubts — Pre- 
 served from skepticism by respect for the Bible and for morality — 
 The effect of all this on his ministerial education 5 - - - - 45 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 Becomes a Pastor — Ministerial habits — Complains of his memory — 
 No imitator — Wrote very methodically — His first sermons quite de- 
 fective — Ought to have read and studied the best masters ; - - 52 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 Chooses to speak of his creed — Began preaching in limes of great re- 
 ligious controversy — was censured by some, apologized for, by 
 others, for adhering to Orthodoxy — Very much pained by the latter 
 — How he arrived at his religious views — Early saw the necessity of 
 adhering entirely to reason, or entirely to revelation — Those follow- 
 ing a middle course, involved in uncertainty — Knew not what they 
 were about — Felt himself obliged to adhere entirely to revelation — 
 Welcomes truth however from all quarters — A belief in revelation 
 favorable to reason and effect— The grand cause of his adhei'ence 
 to the Gospel, his need of a Saviour — Solemn conclusion^ - - 59 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 • 
 
 His mode of proceeding in the invention and choice of themes— Need 
 of philosophy, &c.- — Of variet}' — Common-place-book of subjects — 
 Mode of examining historical texts — Must throw ourselves back 
 into the age — Kinds of knowledge requisite — Illustrations — Aids — 
 Didactic texts — Different kinds of them — Mode of treatment — Illus- 
 trations — Must conceive ourselves in tlie circumstances in which 
 these texts were written }------•- 72 
 
 LET TER XI. 
 
 Manv object to the logical arrangement of sermons — Answered — 
 The arrangement should not be concealed^Points out faulty ar- 
 rangements in his sermons — Warns young preachers against too 
 great attention to arrangement — A gainst uniformity of arrangement ; - 86 
 
CONTENTS. Xl 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 Speaks of the composition of his Sermons— Their defects— Not adapt- 
 ed to country congregations— Examples— Difference of ancient and 
 modern eloquence— Has used some figures of speech too often- 
 Failed of easy transitions- Of a correct use of pronouns— Criticisms 
 — Of publishing a selection of his Sermons } - - - - 95 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. Last Sickness and Death ; 105 
 
 II. His youth and education ; - 113 
 
 III. At Wittemberg ; as a teacher ; his mode of holding exercises with 
 
 the students, and habits of life 5 117 
 
 IV. At Dresden ; as a preacher, examiner of candidates for the sacred 
 
 ministry, as an author, and superintendent of schools ; - 130 
 
 V. General character, habits of life and domestic qualities, with notices 
 
 of his wives, and concluding remarks ; . - - - 148 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 34th, 30th line, dele s from preparations. 
 Page 67th, last line, dele every. 
 Page 131st, 13th line for do, read no. 
 Page 149, 19th line, dele upon. 
 
CONFE SSIONS, &c. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 LETTE R I . 
 
 Apology for these letters — Object of them — Reasons which induced the author 
 
 to publish so many sermons. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 You in reality, then, take no offence at the number of 
 my printed sermons, amounting as they do, to about thirty 
 volumes. On the other hand, you wish to know by what 
 means I have been enabled to produce so many worth 
 perusal, and for this purpose, request me to give you a 
 minute account of the education I received, preparatory 
 to becoming a minister of the Gospel. I will comply with 
 your request, but in such a manner, that what I impart to 
 you, may also be given to the public. Indeed, you do 
 not wish to confine my confessions, in this respect, to your- 
 self. You naturally expect to find many things in what I 
 say to you, which will be useful to those just entering up- 
 on the ministry, serve to guard them against various er- 
 rors, and be of advantage to them in many ways. I will 
 not deny that this may be the case. It is impossible for 
 me to make such disclosures as you expect from me, with- 
 out taking notice of the great defects of my homiletical ed- 
 ucation, and acknowledging the errors into which I have 
 fallen ; — without honestly telling you what there is in my 
 sermons deserving of censure, and why I have not been 
 able to approximate nearer to the perfect pattern of a ser- 
 mon which lies in my mind. If I do so, from the account, 
 2 
 
14 LETTER I. 
 
 young preachers will, of course, be able to draw much 
 valuable instruction. At least, it will not be mv fault, if 
 those who take my sermons for patterns, imitate the very 
 things which they ought to avoid. 
 
 But, while I readily admit that the information you de- 
 sire of me, may be of general use, I must confess it is not 
 without struggles that I have brought myself to comply 
 with your wishes. It is difficult, nay, almost impossible, 
 to say much of one's self, especially before the world, 
 without exciting a suspicion in the minds of people, that 
 one thinks himself of great importance, and imagines him- 
 self and his little affairs worth the notice of tlie public. 
 You know me loo well not to pronounce me entirely free 
 from every thing of the kind ; but will others, less ac- 
 quainted with me, do the same ? Will not the whole thing 
 appear to be the result of vanity and arrogance, and high- 
 ly deserving reprehension ? 
 
 You do not require me, however, to do what so many 
 excellent men have done respecting themselves in a man- 
 ner which met with the a[)probation of almost every read- 
 er, — to give a minute account of my whole life. In my 
 confessions to you, therefore, I shall touch upon those cir- 
 cumstances merely, which may have exerted an influence 
 upon my education as ,a minister of the Gospel. Every 
 thing that does not properly belong to this subject, every 
 thing that is disconnected with the business and science of 
 preaching, or at most, seems calculated to excite a suspi- 
 cion of my aiming at vain glory, I shall pass over in silence. 
 You must be satisfied then, if, in the series of letters I 
 write to you, you receive an account of the manner in 
 which I became a preacher, and an impartial criticism of 
 my own sermons. " Geratur," in the words of a man 
 with whom I know not that I am worthy of any other com- 
 parison, let me say, " Geratur tibi mos, quoniam me non 
 ingenii praedicatorem esse vis, sed laboris mei."* 
 
 You must expect nothing more from me to-day, than 
 an account of the circumstances which induced me to pub- 
 lish so many volumes of sermons. Strictly speaking, it 
 was never my intention to print any of my sermons ; much 
 
 • Cicero in Bruto, c. 65, $ 233. 
 
LETTER I. 15 
 
 less could I ever have thought of printing a whole library of 
 them. I iiad preached as provost of the university church 
 at Wittemberg for two years, when, in 1780, I permitted 
 a collection of my sermons to be publislied. As I was 
 then obliged to apply all my powers to other matters, I 
 should never have done so, had it not been for the earnest 
 importunities of my friends. Of the numerous sermons, 
 however, which I then had by me, I published only six- 
 teen in this collection, supposing that with these I should 
 satisfy the desires of my friends, without being obliged to 
 deviate altogether from my resolution, not to trouble the 
 public with many sermons.* 
 
 Indeed, with the exception of the two which I delivered 
 on being transferred from one station to another, the pro- 
 fits of which were to be applied to the establishment of a 
 young ladies' school at Wittemberg, I printed but a single 
 sermon during the six following years, though I preached 
 in the mean time with unremitting diligence, at the above- 
 named place, and had begun to do so with still greater 
 zeal at Dresden. With none of the numerous requests 
 which I received, to publish many sermons, did I comply; 
 and it was not until 1793, when a new edition of my first 
 volume was called for, that 1 added a second, which, like 
 the first, comprised but sixteen sermons; which I thought 
 would satisfy people, and be the last. 
 
 Soon afterwards, or in the year 1795, a proposal was 
 made in the Imperial i\dvertiser,f and sustained by vari- 
 ous reasons, that I should publish all the sermons I had 
 delivered. To this proposal, however, ignorant as I was 
 from what quarter it came, I should have paid little or no 
 attention, and by it, hardly have been induced to change 
 my original purpose, in regard to printing but a few ser- 
 mons, if a circumstance had not occurred which almost 
 obliged me to do so. My sermons were taken down as 
 they were delivered. This was done by ignorant per- 
 sons, who acquired their living by means of the sermons 
 which they sent into the city and province. It is easy 
 to imagine what a form my sermons in this way received. 
 
 * See the preface to the first edition of these sermons, 
 t The Reichsanzeiger. 
 
 / 
 
16 LETTER I. 
 
 ■ 
 
 I cannot deny that when sonne of these transcribed ser- 
 mons first fell into my hands, I was exceedingly vexed. 
 You may believe me, my dear friend, or not, but I could 
 hardly recognize myself in them. I was astonished at the 
 nonsense which was put into my mouth ; and yet it was 
 not in my power to prevent these transcripts from being 
 taken, as the goodnaturedness of the readers made it too 
 profitable a business for the transcribers to relinquish it. 
 I was obliged, therefore, to choose between two evils, and 
 either see my sermons brought into general circulation in a 
 very garbled and corrupted slate, or publish them myself, 
 as they were originally delivered. As I had been request- 
 ed to do the latter, and it appeared to be the only means 
 left me for avoiding a thousand errors, so it appeared to 
 me of the two evils to be the least ; and hence, agreeably 
 to the advice of my friends, I made choice of it."^^ 
 
 As soon as one collection of the sermons which I had 
 delivered in 1795, made its appearance, 1 received urgent 
 requests, not only in the Imperial Advertiser, but from va- 
 rious quarters, to continue printing them ; and as the prin- 
 cipal reason which induced me to publish the first, existed 
 in regard to the others, so I was induced, rather than see 
 my sermons circulating in a garbled and corrupted state, 
 to accede to the importance of these requests. In the 
 mean time, people continued to receive them with unantic- 
 ipated favor, and from various quarters, I derived very 
 positive evidence of their having been productive of good. 
 Notice was taken of them even in foreign countries, and 
 many of them were translated into other languages ; and 
 though T was more than once resolved to stop printing 
 them, yet, partly out of compliance with public requests, 
 and partly out of compliance with the wishes of friei^ds 
 made known to me in private letters, I was induced to de- 
 viate from my resolution ; so that I have now printed all 
 the sermons which I preached for a series of fifteen years, 
 which constitute the number of volumes extant. 
 
 But enough for once. As soon as I get time for the 
 purpose, my dear friend, I will come to what you particu- 
 larly wish to know, — the character and course of my 
 homiletical education. Farewell. 
 
 * See the preface to the first edition of the Sermons of 1795. 
 
LETTER ir. 
 
 17 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Eai-ly education— luslrucled by his father— Becomes attached to well-arranged 
 sermons— Learus the ancient languages— Fond of poetry, but destitute of 
 good poets— Gels hold of Haller. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 If you wish to know all the circumstances which exert- 
 ed a decided influence upon my education for the minis- 
 try, you must accompany me far back into the years of 
 my childhood. This is the only way in which I shall be 
 able to give you a radical and historical account of my 
 sermons,— to show you how they assumed the form they 
 
 possess. 
 
 For ihe whole of my early education, I am indebted to 
 my father, who was my teacher until my sixteenth year. 
 John Stephen Matthias Reinhard,^ a man whose name 
 would always have been sacred to me, even if he had not 
 been my father, was a minister at Vohenstrauss, a market 
 town in the dukedom of Sulzbach. He was unanimously 
 looked upon by all, as one of the best preachers in that 
 region. He could not indeed rise entirely above the fauhs 
 of his age. Agreeably to the custom then prevalent, he 
 made choice of a particular method, and selected a gen- 
 eral theme, upon which he treated in all its relations and 
 extent, until another year commenced. His thorough ed- 
 ucation, however, deep knowledge of human nature, great 
 experience, and vivacious delivery, introduced so many 
 changes into his method, rendered his discourses so attrac- 
 tive, connected them so intimately and firmly together, and 
 made them such a well arranged whole, that he was not 
 only heard with uniform attention by his church, but list- 
 ened to with pleasure by strangers ; it being usual for many 
 on their way to or from Prague, so to order their affairs 
 as to stop on the Sabbath morning and hear him preach. 
 Among the peculiar qualities for which his sermons were 
 
 * My father wrote his name Reinhart, but for reasons, a part of which he 
 himself suggested, I thought it best to exchange the t for a d. 
 
 *2 
 
18 LETTER n. 
 
 distinguished, may be named a strict and minute arrange- 
 ment of every thing ihey contained. That this arrange- 
 ment was perfectly natural, and obvious at first glance, you 
 may infer from the fact, that, when a lad from ten to elev- 
 en years of age, 1 could remember it, and write it down 
 upon paper on my return home. I did so, and, as I found 
 the exercise pleased my father, for he usually examined 
 what I had written, and corrected it whenever he found it 
 wrong, I regularly continued this practice every Sabbath, 
 until 1 had acquired such skill in this respect, that not a 
 single topic escaped me. 
 
 The result was, as you may infer, that I early formed 
 the conception of a sermon strictly arranged, and so dis- 
 posed in regard to all its main parts, as easily to be retain- 
 ed in the memory, — a conception, accompanied with all 
 the allurements of a paternal example, and so firmly fast- 
 ened in my soul, as never again to be extirpated. From 
 this time onward, every sermon was entirely lost to me, 
 which either had no plan, or one which I was unable to 
 comprehend ; and this is the reason why most of the ser- 
 mons which I afterwards heard in various places, present- 
 ed me with no attractions. 
 
 Not less important or rich in results, was the instruction 
 which I received from my father in the ancient languages. 
 He was an excellent philologist, and read the ancients with 
 feeling and a correct and lively apprehension of their sen- 
 timent. He did not seek at first to impart this feeling and 
 such an apprehension, to me. On the other hand, when 
 we commenced reading an ancient work together, his 
 principal object was to increase my knowledge of the lan- 
 guage, by entering into a philological explanation of ev- 
 ery thing it contained. The other part of the task was left 
 for another time. During the day he was engaged in the 
 laborious duties of his office, but the evenings, after sup- 
 per, he spent at home, taking enjoyment and repose in the 
 bosom of his family. As on these occasions, he early dis- 
 covered in me a susceptibility for conversation upon sub- 
 jects of general utility and a serious character, so he be- 
 gan to devote the time which he spent with his children 
 from eight o'clock in the evening to ten, almost exclusive- 
 ly to me, conversing with me upon such subjects as were 
 
LETTER II. 19 
 
 adapted to my age and attainments. It was on these oc- 
 casions that that love was awakened in me for the study 
 of the ancients which increased with after years, and re- 
 mains with me still. It was his custom to converse with 
 me upon some passage of an ancient work, especially in 
 the Latin, (the Greek I was then unable to read.) These 
 passages were generally selected from Virgil and Cicero, 
 the two classics which he admired the most, and which we 
 had begun to read together. In these exercises, nothing 
 was said respecting philology. Our sole object was to 
 discover in what the beauty, ingeniousness, greatness, and 
 sublimity of the passage consisted ; and these were devel- 
 oped by him with a fire which entered into my heart and 
 early convinced me, that the ancients were the genuine 
 masters of poetry and eloquence, and that we must learn 
 of them and take them for models. 
 
 In the mean time, however, as regards my native lan- 
 guage, I was quite deserted. As early as my ninth year 
 indeed, I felt an inclination for poetry, which might have 
 been strengthened, had there been any thing to strengthen 
 it. Scarcely had I been able to read a single German 
 poet wiih feeling, when my father lost his library, which 
 ' was a valuable one for that time and place, in a disastrous 
 fire, not a single leaf of it being saved. I, who had begun 
 to hanker more and more after the German poets, was 
 now confined to the Sulzbach Hymn Book, at this time a 
 very miserable one, Canitz's poems, and Brookes'^ me- 
 trical translation of Pope's Essay on Man. Accordingly, 
 I read these books again and again, imitated the poetry, 
 and tried to do for myself all I could. I had an obscure 
 feeling, indeed, that they were far from being perfect. In 
 short, I could never avoid thinking there was something 
 far above them in point of ^cellence, and this, because 
 my father had already pointed out to me something supe- 
 rior to them, among the ancients. Two years elapsed, 
 however, before I was able to light upon any thing better 
 in our own language ; with reference to which it should 
 be recollected, that the state of our literature had but just 
 begun to improve, and that the Upper Palatinate was al- 
 
 * [For a notice of Canitz and Brockes, see Memoirs of Goelhe, N. Y. 1824, 
 p. 302, and p. 306.] 
 
20 LETTER ir. 
 
 most entirely destitute of every thing wbicli the authors of 
 this improvement had already produced. 
 
 But now, my friend, I come to an event, which, though 
 small in itself, was, in respect to my education, highly im- 
 portant, and rich in results. I had reached my thirteenth 
 year, when my eldest sister was married to a young cler- 
 gyman by the name of Schatzler. While on a visit to my 
 father's, he discovered my inclination for poetry, and my 
 lamentable destitution of good writers in this department, 
 and presented me with the poems of Haller. It is in vain 
 for me to attempt to express to you the joy and transport 
 with which I read and devoured this poet. All at once 
 the problem which had vexed me was solved. I now 
 supposed myself to have found what I had sought for in 
 my Brockes and Cnnitz, in vain. It was not long before I 
 knew my Haller by heart. Of course, I imitated him ; 
 and, as every thing that I found in my admired pattern, 
 struck me as beautiful, I was pleased with his provincial- 
 isms among the rest ; as even then I was able to discover 
 them. Indeed, I employed them in my own verses, and, 
 in the midst of the Upper Palatinate, wrote as though I 
 was a native of Berne. '^ 
 
 What however was this small error, in comparison with 
 the immense advantage which I derived from Haller? 
 His train of thought was rich and full of meaning, and 
 every word of him took possession of my soul. I passed 
 by nothing without the most careful examination, and 
 dwelt with indescribable pleasure upon every line, always 
 expecting to discover something more in it ; and the nu- 
 merous passages which I did not and could not under- ' 
 stand, only served to exalt my reverence for the poet. 
 They appeared to me to be divine expressions surrounded 
 with a sacred obscurity, the meaning of which I thought 
 would probably be unveiled to me at some future period. 
 From this time onward, 1 became disgusted with every 
 thing like prolixity, exuberance of language and tau- 
 tology. How much soever pleasure other youths could 
 
 * [For notices of Haller, see Memoirs of Goelbe, p. 325 ; Rees' Cydop«e- 
 dia- and Pinacotheca Scriptorum Nostra ^tate Literis lllustriam, etc., kng- 
 Tisti Vindelicorum, 1741, in Decad, IV. where a likeness of him is also to be 
 found. He was a native of Berne, noted for his precocity, distinguished as a 
 poet, and one of the most thorough and extensive scholars of his age.] 
 
LETTER III. ^^ 
 
 find in a certain fulness and luxuriancy of expression, and 
 a play with brilliant images and well sounding phrases, in 
 them I could find none. Haller made me so choice of 
 my expressions, I may say, reduced me to such poverty 
 in this respect, that, when there was no new thought to be 
 uttered either difl:erent from the preceding or designed 
 to render it more definite, I absolutely had not another 
 word to say. When therefore, I reflect upon the influence 
 exerted upon me by the poems of Haller, I am convinc- 
 ed, that my style derived its peculiarities particularly from 
 them. That they made it too dry I am willing to admit. 
 Haller naturally exerted a greater influence upon my rea- 
 son than my imagination, and perhaps curbed the latter, far 
 too much. About this time, I heard various strangers 
 passing through the place, speak with great enthusiasm 
 of Klopstock's Messiah, and praise various other German 
 poets, particularly Hagedorn and Gellert f but, living as 
 I then was in a dark and >yretched corner of Germany, 
 for me to obtain any of these writers was a thing impossi- 
 ble. Consequently, Haller remained my all, until the 
 death of my father entirely changed ray future destina- 
 tion. Of this however another time. Farewell. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Father dies— Goes to Regensburg— Gets hold of other poets — Notice of his 
 instructors— Account of his studies — Admires Cicero— Reads French and 
 ItaUan works — Makes verses. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 Under the guidance of my father, I had made consid- 
 erable progress in the Latin language, and could express 
 
 * [For notices of Hagedorn and Gellert, as well asKlopstock, see the work 
 already referred to, Memoirs of Goethe, pp. 31.3, 324, and 335.] 
 
22 LETTER III. 
 
 myself in it with some ease and correctness. In the 
 Greek and in other things belonging to a preparation for 
 an academical course of studies, I was quite deficient- 
 This affected my father very deeply, and, as he had no 
 more time to spare from the laborious duties of his office 
 than he had hitherto devoted to me, which was aivvavs far 
 too little, and he also jeadily acknowledged the superior- 
 ity of a public education to a private one, he resolved to 
 send me to the very same school where he had received 
 his education, and of which he never spoke but in grate- 
 ful terms, — to the Gymnasium poeticum at Regensburg. 
 In so doing, he was certainly influenced by an obscure 
 presentiment that he had not much longer to live ; for 
 he had been sick more or less for a year previous, 
 and knew his condition too well not to feel that death 
 was at hand. With all his zeal therefore, he immediately 
 set about procuring a place for me at Regensburg. Only 
 a (ew days before his exit, he^.was informed by letters, of 
 the success of his efforts. Never shall 1 forget the inde- 
 scribably serious look, modified indeed by a most heart- 
 felt tenderness, with which he gave me the information, 
 and fixed his eyes upon me for a long time in silence, 
 prying as it were into my very heart, and uttering more 
 than words could express. I was confounded, and finally 
 stammered out the assurance, that I would do my utmost 
 to equal his expectations. What expectations he had 
 formed of me I knew full well. He did not conceal 
 from me the fact, that he loved me in particular, and 
 thought, as he used often to express himself, he could 
 make something out of me. He received my assurance 
 with looks of satisfaction and happiness, dismissed me 
 without saying another word, and a (ew days afterwards 
 was laid upon the bier. 
 
 Accordingly, in the autumn of 1768, being in my 16th 
 year, I set out for Regensburg. My mother, who died of 
 grief at the loss of my father, had furnished me with a few 
 guilders, her six months' privilege as a clergyman's widow, 
 not having then expired. These I was carefully to hus- 
 band in order to a supply of my most pressing necessities, 
 for a long lime to come. But scarcely had I taken up 
 my abode in Regensburg, before I disposed of almost 
 
LETTER III. 23 
 
 oil this money at a bookseller's shop for some German 
 poeis, particularly Klopstock's Messiah, of which only 
 the ten first books were then published. The last attract- 
 ed me with an irresistible power which operated equally 
 strong upon my imagination and my heart. In it, I discov- 
 ered the German language in a richness, strength, and, 1 
 may say, magnificence, of which I had previously had no 
 conception. In regard to sentiment, sublimity, and train 
 of thought, what a resemblance there was between Klop- 
 stock, and my Haller, and how welconje therefore must 
 the former have been to one, whose feelings had been ex- 
 cited and moulded by the latter ! Hence, I read my 
 Messiah so often, and with such interest, that in a short 
 time I knew it by heart as well as I did my Haller. I 
 was not led astray by him, however, like many of my 
 young friends, into a love of pompous phrases and poetical 
 nonsense. From such an error I had been carefully se- 
 cured by Haller, and still more so by the study of the an- 
 cients, to which I now applied myself with all diligence. 
 
 And here with renewed gratitude I must make men- 
 tion of a teacher. He is not honored indeed with a great 
 name among the learned, nor has he written much ; but yet 
 he was thoroughly acquainted with philology, poss':;ssed 
 of rare skill as a teacher, and a benevolence towards his 
 pupils which gained for him every heart. I refer to 
 Frederic Augustus Topfer, who was then conrector of 
 the Gymnasium, into whose class I was put, after having 
 been examined by George Henry Martini, the rector. To 
 this man I am particularly indebted for the influence which 
 the reading of the ancients exerted upon my education, 
 and entire mode of thinking, and the benefit they proved 
 to me in regard to facility of expression. He was inti- 
 mately acquainted with all the niceties of the Latin lan- 
 guage, and labored to teach his scholars how to express 
 themselves in it not only with correctness, but even with 
 elegance. Having corrected the first exercise that I wrote 
 in the class, he told me in a friendly way, that he saw I 
 had some skill, but that I had not yet got my Latin stays 
 on, and therefore must in future attend more implicitly to 
 his instructions. His method, when he made us translate 
 out of the German language into the Latin, was to select 
 
24 LETTER III. 
 
 for us the most excellent Latin phrases. These were the 
 pure idioms of the language, which, being chosen with the 
 greatest care furnished him with an occasion to make us 
 thoroughly acquainted with its genius ; at the same time, 
 he always carried us back to fundamental principles, and 
 the reasons why a thing should be so and not otherwise, 
 and in this way, not only accustomed us to gram- 
 matical correctness in both languages, but to a critical 
 mode of thinking upon matters of this kind. This he ac- 
 complished to a still greater degree, when we read and 
 translated the ancients ; for in this case, he was careful to 
 see, that the author translated was rendered as well as 
 possible, and with taste. To show us how this was to be 
 done, he put into our hands, not translations of the Latin 
 and Greek authors, (for then we had none worthy of im- 
 itation,) but those Gerinan writers who had imitated the 
 ancients with the greatest success. To these he drew our 
 attention, while he endeavored to show us what use we were 
 to make of translating from the ancients. Accordingly, it 
 was he who for this purpose, first put Wieland's writings 
 into my hands, so far as they were then published, and 
 Ramler's Odes ; and happy was the result of this course 
 and highly satisfactory the use we made of his instructions, 
 in this respect, whenever we translated from the ancient 
 Greek and Roman authors. For those of his scholars 
 who obtained his particular confidence, (and I was soon 
 so happy as to be of this number,) there was in general 
 free access to his library, which was quite extensive, well 
 selected, and contained the best ancient and modern wri- 
 ters for philological purposes. ' Here we were not only 
 furnished with an opportunity to collect together many 
 items of information, but also enabled to obtain what was 
 most adapted to our wants. 
 
 The happy relation in which I stood to Topfer, the 
 conrecior, lasted for the two years that I spent in the class 
 of the rector. This was effected in part by Topfer's being 
 obliged to give weekly lessons to this class, so that he con- 
 tinued to be its teacher even after it had ceased to be his ; 
 and in part, by the habit he was in of keeping up his con- 
 nexion with those pupils whom he had once permitted to 
 have free access to him, even though they were no longer 
 
LETTER III. 25 
 
 under his immediate control ; and he who had once formed 
 such a connexion, found it too advantageous and honorable, 
 to be neglected, or dissolved by means of unworthy conduct. 
 
 The rector Martini, though doubtless possessed of 
 greater and more extensive learning, was far less capable 
 than Topfer, of rendering himself useful as an instructor. 
 He did not possess Topfer's philological knowledge. Un- 
 der him, however, we continued the diligent and careful 
 reading of the Greek and Roman classics, and, as he at- 
 tended to the more difficult writers, from him we in fact 
 derived much valuable assistance. 
 
 Thus I lived and employed myself for four years and a 
 half, for this was the length of time that I remained in the 
 Gymnasium at Regensburg, strictly speaking, among the 
 ancient Greeks and Romans. At the public recitations, 
 indeed, as there always were many dull scholars among us, 
 only a little of each author was explained. To accom- 
 modate these, we were confined almost to one place. 
 Those who felt inclined to, however, read much more out 
 of the school. Wliile I was connected with the rector's 
 class, we scarcely ended the fifth book of the Iliad. In 
 the mean time, I had already read my Homer through 
 more than once, at home. That the same was true with 
 regard to Xenophon, Cicero, Livy, Horace, Virgil, Ovid, 
 Curtius, Terence and Pliny the younger, all of which 
 were attended to in our public recitations, needs not be 
 said. At home also we had writers at hand, who were not 
 meddled with at school. I began therefore to form an 
 acquaintance with Hesiod, the Greek tragedians, with Is- 
 ocrates, Demosthenes and Plutarch, among the Greeks ; 
 and with Suetonius, Tacitus, Juvenal, the Scripfores Histo- 
 riae Augustae^ and Seneca ; and at least, to collect literary 
 notices of the other writers of antiquity. 
 
 Here I must observe that my favorite author about this 
 time, was Cicero, whom I continued to look upon as une- 
 qualled in regard to rhetorical diction, until I became ac- 
 quainted with Demosthenes. Of course, I made great 
 efforts lO imitate his style in Latin, and as in addition there- 
 to I had obtained possession of John Augustus Ernesti's 
 edition of the ancients, (his Initia Doctrinae Solidioris, had 
 3 
 
26 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 then been inlrodiiced as a text-book,*) and his Opuscuky 
 so by the example of this successful Ciceronian. I became 
 farther confirmed in the opinion, that he who would ac- 
 quire a good style, must adhere to Cicero in particular, as 
 a guide. Hence, it was not easy for me to let a single 
 day pass without reading something of Cicero's. At the 
 same lime, I had commenced the study of the French and 
 the Italian languages; and it was not long before 1 could 
 read the best authors especially in the former, in connex- 
 ion with the ancients. Accordingly, with great zeal, I 
 took hold of Fenelon's Telemaque, Racine's and Cor- 
 neille's Tragedies, Mollere's Comedies, Boileau's Satires, 
 and Bossuet's Introduction to Universal History ; nor did I 
 ever grow weary of comparing together those authors 
 known to me who had treated of the same events, or ever 
 come away from it, witbout having observed much and 
 learned many useful things. That under such circum- 
 stances, my inclination for poetry should increase, was a 
 matter of course. Not only did I improve every occasion 
 which was presented us for making Latin and German 
 verses as a class, but I made many of my own accord ; 
 and, as my acquaintance with the majority of our German 
 poets increased, acquired i^acility in this species of writing, 
 until I became quite skilful. In all cases, I gained in 
 readiness at expressing myself in my native language, and 
 this was the greatest advantage I derived from these ex- 
 ercises. Nature had not destined me for a poet, and as 
 such, I should never have produced any thing excellent. 
 
 * [This work comprises an excellent course of literature,] 
 
LETTER IV. 27 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 Answers the questions, why he did not read sermons for personal edification, 
 or ministerial improvement — Remains at Regensl)urg' as auditor — Connexion 
 with Prof. Grimm — Acquires a deep relisli for the Crusian philosophy. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 " And did you then," you ask me, in your last, " did 
 you live all the lime you passed at scliool, amoni:: llie hea- 
 tlien ? Did you attend to nothing that had a more imme- 
 diate reference to the business of preaching, to which you 
 had devoted yourself? Did you not occasionally hear or 
 read a sermon for your own edification ?" Permit me to 
 answer these questions of yours in detail. 
 
 During my residence at Regensbur<i, I heard a multi- 
 tude of sertnons. Tiie laws of the s( hnol required us to 
 go to church iwice every Sahbaih and festival, and twice 
 on week days. One sermon, theiefore, on the Sal)bath, 
 and two on week days, were the least that fell to our share. 
 Here I found sufficient nourishment for those religious 
 feelings which had early been excited, and by the wisest 
 means, carefully cherished in me by my father; and 
 though attendance upon divine worsiiip was of but little 
 benefit to my tninisterial education, it did not fail to prove 
 a blessing to my heart. 
 
 As regards my own personal edification, T cannot recol- 
 lect a period in my life in wliich I altOL^ether neglected it. 
 It was a matter of necessity lor me to collect my thoughts 
 together, and jeflect upon my moral condition ; but I 
 frankly confess to you, that [ never resorted to sermons for 
 aid ia suck meditations, and that during my residence at 
 Regensbnrg, I never read any, — not a single one. In 
 neiilecting to do so, I may have coumiiiied a great error, 
 which I shall not undertake to deny ; but listen to me and 
 hear what it was that induced me, to act as I did. 
 
 It is impossible for any one to be accustomed at an 
 earlier age, to look upon the Bible as the book of all books, 
 
28 ' LETTER IV. 
 
 than I was. I commenced learning to read with the Pro- 
 verbs of Solomon, which were printed with distinct sylla- 
 bles lor the sake of children ; and scarcely had I attained 
 to any degree of skill in reading, when my father, to whom 
 the Scriptures were every thing in matters of religion, pre- 
 sented me with a Bible. Hence, when a child of five 
 years of age, 1 began to read the Bible. I read it in 
 course as 1 found it, from the beginning to the end, and 
 did it more than once ; never suffering a single day to pass, 
 without having completed my task in this respect. This 
 was indeed a childish notion. I felt so, and therefore 
 never told my father of it, but read my Bible in silence, 
 and altogether for myself. In the mean time, however, 
 I derived increasing delight from reading it; embraced 
 every opportunity which presented, to ask my father ques- 
 tions respecting it; and, as I advanced, made many use- 
 ful reflections of my own, until I gradually acquired the 
 habit of using it for purposes of personal edification, with- 
 out calling any thing farther to my aid, than a spiritual song. 
 This habit I carried with me to Regensburg. As I was 
 always able, while there, to read the New Testament in 
 the original, reading the Bible presented me with new at- 
 tractions. 1 ran to my Bible, therefore, whenever I wish- 
 ed for instruction, animation, or comfort ; and as I found 
 every thing in it that I wanted, in great abundance, I never 
 once thought of seeking after other means of edification. 
 *' Still, it would have exerted a happy influence," as you 
 think, " upon m.y education as a minister of the Gospel, if 
 I had occasionally read a masterly sermon." 1 will not 
 deny it. The sermons of Mosheim, Jerusalem, Cramer, 
 Sack, and others, not to mention many in foreign lan- 
 guages, were net only worthy of being read, but studied. 
 I must tell you, however, my dear friend, that when at 
 Regensburg, I had not definitely resolved upon becoming 
 a minister of the Gospel, and was very uncertain what 
 course I should pursue. From my very youth, indeed, I 
 had felt a strong inclination for the sacred office, and, if I 
 may so express myself, a kind of internal call to preach ; 
 and hence, could never hear any thing said respecting my 
 choosins another mode of life, without experiencing a 
 strong internal opposition which I was unable entirely to 
 
LETTER IV. ^^ 
 
 suppress. So wenk however was my body, and so criii- 
 cal my healtli, lliat many, and a iady in particular, lor 
 whom, as she alwavs took care of ine with maternal ten- 
 derness, I had the greatest respect, told me that I was not 
 made for a preacher, and should never have strength 
 rnou-h to sustain ihe labors of the sacred ministry; and 
 Ihat self-preservation required me to direct my attention to 
 some other pnrsuit Indeed, I was twice brought to the 
 very borders of the grave by a burning fever, from which 
 it vvas a long time before I recovered. This confirmed 
 my patrons and friends in the opiinou they had formed, 
 and made them think it best for me to devote all my time 
 to such studies as would be ot use to me upon whatever 
 course of hfe I should in future determine. Under such 
 circumstances, my friend, it was natural, that I should lose 
 sight of every thing that related immediately and especial- 
 ly to the business of preaching. That by reading the 
 choicest writers of antiquity, however, which then so en- 
 tirelv engrossed mv mind, I was taking the best step for 
 obtaniina; a minisieVial education, whs something of which 
 I did not conceive. It was afterwards, I first learned, that 
 I had employed my time to the greatest advantage without 
 
 knowing it. i • i t 
 
 There is another circumstance, however, which I must 
 mention, as it had an immediate bearing upon my educa- 
 tion as a minister of ihe Gospel. Willi the six classes of ^ 
 the Gymnasium at Regensburg, there was connected a di- 
 vision called the auditory, which any one entered who 
 had completed the time prescribed b} law for the six 
 classes, and fitted himself for the. university. To these 
 auditors, as they were called, lectures were delivered by 
 the regular professors at the Gymnasium, upon theology,^ 
 philosophy, philology, and other sciences, the object of 
 whicli was to initiate the hearers into the university course, 
 and prepare them for making a profitable use of its exer- 
 cises. Strangers were at liberty to enier upon their aca- 
 demical career immediately fiom the up|)er class, or to 
 attend in the first place to 'the lectures of the auditory. I 
 chose the latter because I should otlierwise have been 
 obliged to go away at Michaelmass, at which time no reg- 
 tilarcQurse commenced at the university, and the most 
 
 *3 
 
30 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 important lectures had been continued for at least half a 
 year. In order, therefore, not to lose the advantages of a 
 university course begun in season, I spent the winter 
 half of the year, from 1772 to 1773, still at Regensburg, 
 as auditor. 
 
 Here, then, I also heard John Ludewig Grimm, the 
 professor of theology, and at the same time a preacher, 
 and as such, heard with great approbation. He soon 
 conceived a great confidence in me, and gave rae a com- 
 mission for which I was but poorly prepared. He was 
 obliged by the duties of his office, to preach during the 
 week in St. Oswald's church. The sermons which he 
 delivered there, were a kind of homilies composed of ex- 
 planations of Genesis. As he was much pressed with 
 business, he could not write these productions out in full, 
 for want of time, though he was very anxious to do so. 
 He requested me therefore to take his rough draughts, 
 write them out for him, reducing them to the proper form, 
 and then return them to him. My first efforts in this bus- 
 iness were so successful, that the author recognized him- 
 self in what I gave to him, and requested me to continue 
 my labor. Accordingly T worked out for him quite a series 
 oftliese week-day sermons, in the manner just described; 
 and as I iticreased my endeavors to render them agreea- 
 ble and retain those expressions of the author which were 
 the most worthy of the pulpit, this exercise probably ex- 
 erted considerable influence in the formation of my style. 
 I have only to add, that Grimm was a zealous pupil and 
 follower of the theologian Crusius,* under whom he had 
 studied in Leipsic, and respecting whose Plan of the King- 
 dom of GGd\ he delivered his lectures in Regensburg. 
 You will not think it strange, therefore, my dear friend, 
 when I tell you, that I went to Saxony filled with a deep 
 
 * [For a notice of Crusius, or Krans, as it is written in the German, sre Me- 
 moirs of Goethe, &c. p. 309 ; also, Germ. Conv. Lex. He formed the bold 
 plan of reducinp^ philosophy to a perfectly consistent and rational system, and 
 combining it wiih orthodox theoloe:y, for which purpose he sought to destroy 
 the system of Wolf, as being altogether inconsistent with liis own. He was a 
 deep and acute thinker, though now regarded as having been somewhat heavy. 
 His philosophy at first produced considerable effect, but he outlived his influ- 
 ence, and the numerous theological works he wrote, are in general forgotten. 
 In private life he was distinguished for integrity and rare piety.] 
 
 f Vorstell. V. d. Plane Reichesgottes, Leips. 
 
LETTER V. 31 
 
 reverence for this philosopher and theologian, and that his 
 philosophical system was the first I became acquainted 
 with and studied. But of the years I spent at the univer- 
 fiityj another time. Farewell. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 « 
 
 ■Goes to Willemberg — Resolves to devote liimself to the ministry — Applies 
 closely to the most important studies, — Hears Schrockh on church history — 
 Reads Saurin's Passion Sermons — Concludes to remain and prepare himself 
 for teaching. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 By circumstances, the explanation of which does not 
 properly belong to this place, it was rendered possible for 
 me to go to an Electoral Saxon university, instead of 
 going to Altdorf or Erlangen which were far nearer, and 
 the usual resorting places for students of the Upper Pala- 
 tinate. According to a plan devised for me by Mirus in 
 Regensburg, the Electoral Saxon Secretary of Legation, 
 one of my patrons, I was to study a year or two at Wit- 
 temberg, when he hoped by means of the celebrated Cru- 
 «ius, his intimate friend, to contrive some way for me to go 
 to Leipsic and complete my studies there under the eye 
 of this philosopher. Here in the very outset, 1 must re- 
 mark, that the reason of this plan's not being carried into 
 execution, was the death of Crusius in the year 1775, 
 united with the new connexions I had formed, which ren- 
 dered it easy and advisable for me to continue my resi- 
 dence at the university in Witiemberg. 
 
 When I went to Saxony, I was so poor, that I had no 
 
 expectations of being able to stay at the university more 
 
 than two years at the farthest. My little patrimony would 
 
 " «ertainly not hold out longer with all the frugality it was 
 
32 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 possible for me lo exercise ; and the. fine prospects whleh 
 had been laid open before me by the honest and pious 
 Minis, of early obtaining a livelihood in Saxony, had too 
 little security to authorize me to put confidence in tliem or 
 regulate my plans accordingly. 
 
 On my arrival at Wittemberg, therefore, I had resolved 
 upon two things : First, I intended, as soon as possible, to 
 make a trial at preaching in order to see whether my 
 breast and body would permit me to study theology, or 
 whether I should be obliged to select some other profes- 
 sion. If the former should be the case, 1 was resolved in 
 the second place, to pay no farther attention to preaching 
 while at the university, but during the short space of time 
 allotted to me for the purpose, to hear as many lectures 
 as possible, and make myself acquainted with the indis- 
 pensable sciences. It was very important for me to do so, 
 as, from a predilection for the Latin and Greek authors and 
 a dread of Dnnz, who was usually followed by tliose who 
 taught the Hebrew, I had so entirely neglected this lan- 
 guage as to be under the necessity of commencing it on 
 my arrival at Wittemberg. 
 
 What I had resolved upon, I most punctually perform- 
 ed. I had passed but a few months at Wittemberg, and 
 had begun to hear lectures upon the Hebrew language, 
 upon philosophy, upon tlie New Testament, and upon doc- 
 trinal theology ; when, on the sixth Simday after the feast 
 of Trinity, I delivered a sermon from the usual lesson- of 
 the day, in Dietrichsdorf, a small village connected with 
 the parish in Wittemberg, but having a church of its own. 
 The trial succeeded ; for though I designedly exerted my 
 utmost efforts, I felt not the least inconvenience at the 
 close. The peasants also assured me that I had a clear 
 voice and an excellent enunciation ; and though I had 
 never been in Dietrichsdorf before in my life, and was to- 
 tally ignorant of every one in the place, yet the schoolmas- 
 ter and the peasant, wiih whom, according to custom, I 
 was obliged to dine, told me in the most ptn-fect confidence 
 at the close of divine service, that I had spoken some ex- 
 cellent truths to this person and th it, whom they named. 
 I have now lost all recollections of what I preached there. 
 From the foregoing fact, however, it would seem at leasts 
 
 h 
 
 A 
 
LETTER V. 
 
 33 
 
 ihat my sermon contained some practical observations, and 
 such as were suitable for common life. 
 
 I now, my dear friend, immediately formed the resolu- 
 tion of becoming a minister. The ease with which my 
 first trial at preaching was sustained, the attention with 
 which the litile assembly had listened to me, and, permit 
 me to add, the by no means inconsiderable marks of ap- 
 probation 1 received, — all these confirmed me in the hope 
 which I had long secretly cherished, that I should not la- 
 bor in this department without success, at some future day. 
 With far more particularity, however, was my second 
 resolve carried into effect ;— not to think any more at pre- 
 sent upon writing sermons or preaching, but to apply myself 
 tothesciences with which the preacher must be familiar, if 
 he would do justice to his great calling. I now zealously 
 attended, not merely to the acquisition of the Hebrew, but 
 that of its kindred languages ; and it was very well for me 
 that 1 found a teacher m the now deceased. Professor 
 Dresde, who was well acquainted with the first principles 
 of the oriental languages, and excellent at imparting in- 
 struction. 
 
 With still greater eagerness did I attend to philosophy, 
 in which the deceased Dr. Schmid, nephew of Dr. Cru- 
 sius, was my instructor. This man had great talent at 
 awakening reflection by means of lively conceits and ex- 
 cellent remarks, though he was not careful enough to give 
 his discourses the requisite clearness and connexion. 
 Hence, I found it necessary to read the philosophical writ- 
 ings of Crusius for myself, and this, together with the oral 
 explanations given by Schmid, enabled me at length, 
 though not without great efforts, to obtain a tolerably cor- 
 rect apprehension of the system of this acute and consis- 
 tent thinker. If, in addition to all this, I tell you, as was 
 the case, that 1 attended exegetical lectures upon the Old 
 and New Testaments and studied mathematics and doc- 
 trinal theology ; that 1 carefully made myself familiar with 
 all the lectures upon the sciences, and daily read my He- 
 brew Bible in order to acquire all the skill requisite in that 
 language; that I took part in discussions upon theological 
 and philosophical subjects, and finally, that I still sought 
 to save many hours for reading the Greek and Latin : you 
 
34 LETTER V. 
 
 will doubtless believe, that, for the first two years of tnf 
 residence at Witiemberg, I had no lime to preach. 
 
 By various circunistances indeed, it was now rendered 
 possible for me to remain longer at Wittemberg than I had' 
 originally thought of doing ; but as an ofjportuni^y was^ 
 presented me in my third year, of becoming more inti- 
 mately acquainted with Professor Schrockh and hearing 
 him privadssime upon church history, I was induced to 
 embrace it; and of course, a new and wide field of study- 
 opened before me. JVly guide in it [)roved himself master 
 of its knowledge, and pointed out to me iis most interest- 
 ing regions with such skill and captivating friendship as to 
 fill me with pleasure, so that I resolved to delay awhile in 
 it, and devote the princi()al part of my time to him. It is 
 true, that during this and the following, or my fourth year, 
 I was occasionally obliged by the relation in which I stood, 
 to deliver a sermon, but so rarely, that it proved no hin- 
 drance to my other labors. Besides, 1 then had no op- 
 portunity for attending to those scierjces which are most 
 intimately connected with the business of the preacher. 
 During the whole course of my study, 1 did not hear a 
 single lecture upon theological ethics or pastoral theology, 
 nor did I receive anv instruction in homiletics, or hear a 
 single lecture upon preaching. Tliis is a subject of deep 
 regret'to me, but he who is well acquainted with the state 
 of the university at Wittemberg from 1773 to 1776, knows 
 that it was not al(02;ether mv fault. 
 
 It was about this lime, or during the third year of my 
 course, that 1 indulged in a reading which certainly exert- 
 ed some influence upon my preparations a-s a minister of 
 the Gospel, and which therefore deserves to be taken no- 
 tice of in this place. An accident brought into my hands 
 the Passion Sermons of Saurin, as translated by Heyer. 
 Saurin had been mentioned to me by my father as one of \ 
 
 the most excellent of preachers. In this case, therefore, 
 I naturally found it a pleasure to make an exception to the 
 custom which I had hitherto observed, of reading no ser- 
 mons. I found them well planned, and accurately divid- 
 ed into heads, divisions and subdivisions. This was as 
 I supposed every sermon should be. In this respect, there- 
 fore, I found them approximate nearer to the pattern of s^ 
 
 ^■: 
 
LETTER V. 
 
 35 
 
 perfect sermon which lay in my mind, than any I had ever 
 heard. The lively turns too, which Saurin gives his 
 address, and the flowers with which he bestrews every 
 thing, likewise produced their effects. Of course I was 
 delighted with him ; and hence, 1 felt as though 1 ought 
 to take him for a pattern ; and a sermon delivered this 
 year from the customary lesson in the parish church at 
 Wittemberg, on Mary's Visitation, and printed at the re- 
 quest of many who heard it, exhibits evident marks of the 
 attempts I made to imitate him. It is now as may easily 
 be supposed, nearly unknown. It afforded a proof how- 
 ever, as regards its dress, that Saurin was in my mind as a 
 pattern, and that I was a zealous Crusian and had made 
 myself thoroughly acquainted with the Prophetical Theol- 
 ogy of my master. 
 
 In the mean time, the period drew near, in which as I 
 supposed, I should be oljliged to leave the university. 
 Accordingly, towards Michaelmass, of the year 1777, I 
 was intending to return home to my native country ; and 
 shortly before' that time, he who had hitlierto been my 
 guardian, and taken care of my little property, sent me 
 the remainder of it for supplying the expenses of the 
 journey. About this time, however, those teachers who 
 knew me best, particularly Schmid, Dresde and Schrockh, 
 gave me an earnest request to remain and apply to the 
 business of acadeniical instruction. I made objections, 
 alleging that I knew not upon what I should live ; but they 
 were removed by the prospects which were held out to me 
 of receiving support from various quarters, as soon as I 
 had qualified myself for the work. In short, I was over 
 -ruled by the authority of these men, and the inclination 
 which had been awakened in me during the last half year 
 of my residence at Wittemberg, for a university life ; and 
 I immediately employed the money which had been sent to 
 me for the expenses of my journey into the Upper Palat- 
 inate, for the purpose of qualifying myself towards the 
 end ©f another year, for entering upon a course in which 
 nothing was to be expected but pain and trouble. In so 
 doing, you will observe, my dear friend, that I entered a 
 path which not only might at first, but which unavoidably 
 did, lead me away from the business of preaching. Jn 
 
36 LETTER VI. 
 
 my next letter, however, before I speak of my academical 
 career, you must expect from me some general remarks 
 respecting the education which I had hitherto received^ 
 preparatory to becoming a minister of the Gospel. Fare- 
 well. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 Points out the defects of his education — Exculpates himself for them in pari 
 — Warns young students against them — Means by which he provided for 
 their remedy. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 You have the strongest reason to be astonished at the 
 manner in which from my own account, it seems, I pursu- 
 ed my theological studies ; directed as ihey were by no 
 rational method, and full of frightful chasms. I absolute- 
 ly inverted the order of things by attending to doctrinal 
 theology in the first year, and putting off church history 
 until the third. It was a very great defect that I attended 
 no lectures upon ancient literature, universal history, or 
 physics. It was a still greater defect, that I attended none 
 upon homiletics, pastoral theology, or canon law. And, 
 finally, it was altogether unpardonable in me, to neglect 
 every thing like a lecture upon philosophical and theologi- 
 cal ethics ; in doing which, I overlooked the most indis- 
 pensable [)art of a preparation for the sacred office. 
 
 The guilt of all these faults, however, does not rest en- 
 tirely upon me. When I entered the university, I sup- 
 posed, as I lately informed you, that it would be impossi- 
 ble for me to remain there longer than two years at the 
 farthest. With all the lectures, therefore, which I wish- 
 ed to hear, it would have been useless for me to think of 
 
LETTER VI. 37 
 
 observing a method which would have required more time. 
 I was obliged as it were to snatch at what came along and 
 secure it upon the spot. To this it should be added, that 
 the course of theological instruction at Wittemberg during 
 the three first years of my residence there, was in reality 
 very defective. I should certainly have attended to phi- 
 losophical and theological ethics, if an opportunity had 
 been presented me for hearing suitable lectures upon 
 these sciences. It is true, that Schmid contemplated lec- 
 turing upon both of them ; upon the former, according to 
 Crusius' Directions for living a rational life /"^ upon the 
 latter, according to Rehkopf's Abstract of Crusius'* moral 
 philosophy ;\ but neither was brought about. It was 
 equally impossible for me to hear any thing of value upon 
 homiletics and pastoral theology. The aged Hoffmann 
 indeed, who was general superintendent, read a pastoral, 
 soon after my aruival at Wittemberg ; but I felt as if it 
 would be highly inverting the order of things to listen to 
 this lecture then ; and besides, the old man was so weak, 
 that he could not go on, and in the following year he died. 
 I might have attended to canon law, but 1 did not, as 
 there were things more necessary which I wished to learn. 
 With homiletics I thought I should be able to dispense, as I 
 had already studied rhetoric at school. Professor Titius 
 began a course of lectures upon physics, which I attended 
 as far as he went, but he was obliged to discondnue it for . 
 want of a sufficient number of hearers. I committed a 
 much greater error, however, in neglecting Schrockh's lec- 
 tures upon universal history. I must confess, that I was atfirst 
 £lled with prejudice against the man; and when this was 
 removed, it was too late. It is a source of satisfaction 
 that I was able nevertheless to availmyself of the use of his 
 lectures, upon church history. It is probable, however, 
 that the want of lectures upon universal history, was far 
 less injurious to me from the fact, that I began to read, I 
 may almost say, to devour, Bossuet's work upon the history 
 of the world according to Cramer's translanon and with 
 Cramer's additions, even while at Regensburg; the study of 
 which I kept up at the university. 
 
 * Anweisungvernttnftig zu leben. 
 t Auszug aus Crusii Moraltheologie. 
 
 4 
 
3? LETTER VI. 
 
 With all my heart, however, must I warn young stu- 
 dents for the ministry to guard against the errors w-fiich I 
 here confess, and earnestly beg them to attend to the ac- 
 quisition of the theological sciences in as perfect and me- 
 thodical a manner, as time and circumstances will admit. 
 Had I pursued my studies with less irregularity and ob- 
 tained a knowledge of the sciences in their natural order, 
 I should have found my way much easier, and been able, 
 without special diligence or effort, to acquire a degree of 
 perfection, the attainment of which with the most strenuous 
 exertions, I was afterwards scarcely able to effect. 1 hope, 
 however, that no student will find himself so destitute of 
 opportunities for attending to every necessary branch of 
 knowledge in its proper place, as I actually was. The 
 circumstances in which I lived, were altogether unfavora- 
 ble to me in this respect. 
 
 ' You ask me, my dear friend, in your letter, by what 
 means I have endeavored to remedy the consequences of 
 so defective an education, and actually succeeded in pre- 
 venting them from becomings more conspicuous. Upon 
 this point I can give you some information. Let me be- 
 gin with that knowledge which particularly concerns us in 
 the present case. 
 
 I have never had any instruction in homiletics, or taken 
 any part in homiletic exercises. This perhaps is evident 
 from my sermons. Their division and arrangement may 
 be very defective in comparison with what they ought to 
 be, according to the rules of homiletics. That without a 
 knowledge of these rules, I have been able to produce so 
 many sermons and give them at least a tolerable form, ii 
 owing to the diligence with which I read the ancient ora- 
 tors and rhetoricians, and the no less diligence with which 
 I applied myself to philosophy. I had early made myself 
 acquainted with the old systems of eloquence, particularly 
 those of Cicero, at school. When at the university, I 
 not only read them again, but with them connected Quin- 
 tilian and Aristotle. With the theories of the ancients 
 respecting eloquence, I compared their discourses, partic- 
 ularly those of Isocrates, Demosthenes, Aeschines, Lysias 
 and Cicero ; and I have always thought, that the study of 
 
 
 .si 
 
LETTER VI. 
 
 39 
 
 these proved of more use to me than lectures upon hom- 
 iletics would have done. 
 
 Here I must remark, that it was reading the ancients 
 which formed in me that idea of genuine eloquence which 
 afterwards always remained with me, which still appears 
 to be the only true one, and which in my labors 1 have 
 ever endeavored 'to keep before me, though I have come 
 far short of it. I spent some years at the university be-' 
 fore I became acquainted with the Grecian orators. Un- 
 til then, my notions of eloquence were drawn chiefly from 
 Cicero's works. I looked upon him with admiration as 
 the greatest master in this department, excepting, that, 
 on comparing him with the concise Haller overflowing 
 with thought, I could not avoid occasionally pronouncing 
 him somewliat verbose.^" 
 
 Excited by him, I finally began to read the Grecian 
 orators ; and how astonished I was on finding in the most 
 celebrated orator of all antiquity, a man, who, for accom- 
 plishing his object and producing the greatest eiFects, never 
 uses a single flower or far-fetched expression, a conceited 
 and remarkable phrase, or any thing that bears the least 
 resemblance to poetical prose ; — who, on the other hand, 
 says and delivers every thing in those terms which are the 
 most natural, correctly distinguishing and strikingly de- 
 scriptive, — -and hence, a man, in whom are to be discov- 
 ered no traces of affectation, or struggling after wit and 
 surprising turns, or of that audacity so pleasing to many, 
 and said to be the companion of genius ; — a man, on the 
 contrary, who chains the attention of his hearers by a dic- 
 tion, strong, manly, and unincumbered with a single super- 
 fluous word ; who overpowers, as it were, the understand- 
 ing by the strength of his thoughts, the force of his rea- 
 sons, and the superiority with which he develops them ; 
 and finally, bears every thing away with him by means of 
 an eloquence which rolls forth in periods, which are per- 
 fect in themselves, are harmonious, and fill the ear.f 
 
 * Many of the ancients censured him, ut tumidiorem,et Asianum, et redun- 
 dantem, etin rertelitionibus nimium. See QuiiUilian, Institut. Orat. 1. XII. c. 
 
 10, § n. 
 
 t Cuius non tarn vibrarent fulmina ilia, nisi numeris contorta ferrentur, says 
 Cicero of him, Orat. c. 70. 
 
40 LETTER VI. 
 
 The more I read this orator, the clearer it appeared to 
 me^ that true eloquence is something entirely different froni 
 an artificial fluency of speech ; something entirely differ- 
 ent from playing with antitheses and witty expressions ; 
 something entirely different from poetical prose, or as Kant 
 calls it, prose run mad ; and finally, something entirely dif- 
 ferent from that storminess and vehemence, that sputter- 
 ing and foaming, and that bombast and turgidness, at which 
 the great mass of the people are astonished because of 
 their ignorance. If then, said I to myself, for this was the 
 inference which I drew, if then I can so speak in the pul- 
 pit that my discourse shall always constitute a well arrang- 
 ed whole, firmly united in all its parts, and continued in 
 the most natural order ; if I can always bring forward 
 such matter as stands in close connexion with the most 
 important concerns of my hearers and is of utility to them 
 in practical life ; if I can do this so that every thought 
 shall always be clothed in those words, which, of all the 
 treasures of the language, distinguish it in the best and 
 most striking manner ; if consequently, I can in teaching 
 always find the most intelligible, in writing the most obvi- | 
 
 ous, in admonishing the most powerful, in warning the '| 
 
 most terrific, in consoling the most comforting, expres- 
 sions ; if I can avail myself of language so that every 
 shading of the thoughts, every turn of the feelings, every 
 climax of the passions, shall be rendered manifest by it, 
 and always made to touch those cords of the heart which 
 they ought to do ; finally, if I can procure for my dis- 
 course a fulness without bombast, an euphony without ar- 
 tificial rhythm, and an easy uninterrupted current which 
 overflows, pouring itself as it were into the ear and the 
 ['.eart ; — if I can do all this, it will constitute the eloquence 
 which is adapted to the pulpit. Then my discourse will 
 be clear for the intellect, easy to be remembered, exciting 
 to the feelings and captivating to the heart. Then I shall 
 speak of religion with that perfect simplicity, exalted dig- 
 nity, and benevolent warmth, with which we ought always 
 to speak of it. 
 
 The idea of genuine eloquence thus drawn out of the 
 ancients in general, but out of Cicero and Demosthenes in 
 particular, became so thoroughly my own, that nothing 
 
* LETTER VI. 41 
 
 could please me which did not accord with it ; and it con- 
 stituted the ideal perfection at which 1 afterwards aimed in 
 working out my own sermons. That on the other hand, 
 I said that no use could or ought to be made by the reli- 
 s,ious teacher, of those arts of which the ancients availed 
 themselves in their oratory, for the purpose of giving a 
 good appearance to the vilest cause, infatuating the hear- 
 ers with dazzling things, and inducing them to engage in 
 rash undertakings by exciting their passions, will, I pre- 
 sume, be taken for granted. It is true, that that part of an- 
 cient eloquence which cari be retained in the pulpit, had 
 not then been so acutely and happily pointed out as it has 
 been of late by Schott, in his Sketch of a theory of elo- 
 quence, with a particular application to pulpit eloquence."^ 
 The ancient rhetoricians, however, speak of the dishonest 
 artifices of which orators were obliged to avail themselves 
 both on the stage, and before the tribunal, with so much 
 frankness, that one must immediately fee\ them to be nei- 
 ther practicable nor necessary in matters of religion. 
 
 The want of instruction in homiletics, however, and the 
 omission of homiletic exercises was rendered uninjurious 
 to me in particular, by the study of philosophy. I cannot 
 deny, that the philosophical sciences, for which, while at 
 school I felt no inclination, presented me with irresistible 
 attractions, as soon as I began to attend to them at the 
 university. It was not long before I esteemed them for 
 their own sake. Without thinking of any use to which I 
 could apply them, under the influence of a love of the 
 truth, I made them an object of study and became filled 
 with a sense of their immense importance. Almost every 
 day convinced me of the necessity of searching after 
 something tangible and pacifying in this respect, and drove 
 me on to new and incessant exertions. Even w^hile a stu- 
 dent, therefore, I devoted a great part of my time to phi- 
 losophy, and exerted all my strength to form an intimate 
 acquaintance with the philosophemes of the acute Crusius, 
 in air their extent. As, in addition to this, I afterwards 
 began to teach philosophy and was obliged to lecture upon 
 
 * Kurzer Entwurf einerTheoriederBeredtsamkeit mit besondrer Anwend- 
 «ng auf die Canzelberedtsamkeit 5 Leips., 1807. 
 
 *4 
 
42 LETTER VI. 
 
 it, so, for several years, it constituted, as I shall hereafter 
 remark, my principal occupation. To calculate the ad- 
 vantage I should derive from this zealous and uninterrupt- 
 ed attention to philosophy as an exercise preparatory to 
 preaching, was a thing I never thought of, being then in- 
 fluenced by ray love for the study itself. It was not until 
 afterwards, that I perceived I could not have gone through 
 better exercises preparatory to entering upon the sacred 
 office. 
 
 Having by the diligent and long-continued study of phi- 
 losophy, become acquainted with an immense number of 
 subjects standing in various and intimate relations to Chris- 
 tianity, it was not easy for me to be troubled with a want 
 of materials when 1 began to preach. Having also accus- 
 tomed myself to treat every thing methodically and agree- 
 ably to the rules of logic, and thus gradually acquired the 
 power of apprehending the connexion, organization, and 
 various relations of all svstems, it was not easier for me to 
 form the plan of a sermon or handle a religious doctrine, 
 without order. In short, that activity of thought which 
 enables a man to become perfect master of his subject, 
 whatever it may be, and mould it according to his pleasure, 
 can be acquired only by the study of philosophy ; but a 
 small share of this skill will enable any one who possesses 
 it, to form the plan of a sermon with facility. If therefore 
 there is any thing indispensable to a preparation for the 
 ministerial office, it is, in my opinion, the study of philoso- 
 phy. Not indeed that I would introduce philosophy into 
 the pulpit, or give myself up to vain speculations; but in 
 part, because it furnishes a man with a large stock of ma- 
 terials, and in part, because it enables one to treat every 
 subject in a clear and radical manner, and agreeably to 
 the circumstances and relations of the time and place.* 
 No one will, in reality, be able to speak upon religious 
 truths in a manner clear, simple, easy, and intelligible, 
 without having a genuine philosophical knowledge of them, 
 
 • Nee vero sine philosophorum disciplina genus et speciem cuiusque rei cer- 
 nere, neque earn definiendo explicare, nee tribuere in paries possumus 5 nee 
 iudicare, quae vera, quae falsa sint ; neque cernere consequentia, repugnan- 
 tia videre, ambigua distinguere. Quid dicam de natura rerum, cuius cognitip 
 magnara orationi suppeditat copiam j de vita, de officiis, de virtute, de mori- 
 bus, sine multa earum ipsarum rerum disciplina aut dici, aut intelligi potest % 
 Cicero in Orator, c 6. 
 
 i 
 
 
LETTER VI. ' 43 
 
 tind being complete master of all ideas connected with 
 them. He therefore who has not received a philosophical 
 education, though he may become a verbose chatterer, 
 never can become a good preacher. His defects in this 
 respect cannot be supplied by high sounding phrases, or 
 pious, smoothly flowing and luxuriant forms of expression. 
 He will, at most, but dazzle for a while the great mass of 
 the people, without doing justice to his intelligent hearers^ 
 or successfully accomplishing the true object of the minis- 
 terial office.* 
 
 Finally, the zeal with which I applied myself to philos- 
 ophy, furnished an excellent remedy for the defects of my 
 not having attended either to philosophical or theological 
 ethics. As I was anxious to become acquainted with phi- 
 losophy in its whole extent, and was ultimately called upoa 
 to teach it, so I was obliged to make myself familiar with 
 its practical parts, as well as its theoretical. Accordingly, 
 by my own diligence, I supplied the defects of my origi- 
 nal education. And here also my love of ancient litera- 
 ture turned to good account. With the systematic study 
 of practical philosophy I began occasionally to combine 
 reading the ancient moralists ; particularly Plato, Aristotle, 
 Arrian, Plutarch, and Seneca. He who is acquainted 
 with these writers, knows what treasures of moral truths 
 are heaped together in their works, and what life, power, 
 and practical utility, may be derived from a systematic 
 knowledge of ethics, if with it we combine a profitable 
 reading of these writers. Many of them, particularly the 
 Dissertationes Epicteteae of Arrian, the moral treatises of 
 Plutarch, and some works of Seneca, became of so much 
 importance to me in these circumstances, that I read them 
 often, and always with additional profit in respect to the 
 enlargement and correction of my ethical information. In 
 general, practical philosophy became more interesting to 
 me, the longer I occupied myself with it. Afterwards, I 
 gradually passed over to the best moralists of modern 
 times ; and, what proved of very great usefulness to me,, 
 began to read the best historians and poets of every age,. 
 
 • Here we may adduce the testimony of a man who knew best what was 
 safest for an orator : " Fateor," says Cicero, " me oratorem, si modo sim, aul 
 etiam quicunque sim, non ex rhetorum oflBciois, sed ex acaderaiae spaliis e»- 
 stitisse," Orat. c. 4. 
 
\ 
 
 41 . LETTER VI. 
 
 with an exclusive reference to ethics/^ That this course 
 very much facilitated the execution of the work upon 
 Christian ethics, in which, bv virtue of mv office as teach- 
 er of theology, 1 was obliged to engage, is self-evident. 
 My system of Christian morality every where exhibits 
 marks of the great influence exerted upon me by these 
 preparatory exercises ; and reference is every where made 
 10 the writers to whom 1 am the most indebted. 
 
 I did not perceive all the benefit I had derived from this 
 method of studying morality, however, until I began to 
 preach. That the preacher must possess a systematic 
 knowledge of morality, if he would go to the foundation in 
 handling moral truths, is unquestionable. y This, of itself, 
 however, is by no means sufficient. The preacher must 
 l^e acquainted with the human heart, and familiar with all 
 its movements, inclinations, and artifices. He must have 
 examined the various dispositions and characters of men, 
 and must know what difficulties and hindrances stand op- 
 posed to the practice of godliness in general, and virtue in 
 particular. He must have the most salutary advice at 
 hand requisite for every case, and, in short, what is and 
 always will be, of the most importance in his circumstan- 
 ces, be possessed o^ practical wisdotn. That the only way 
 of acquiring this, is, by paying incessant attention to one's 
 own heart, and those things which we find opportunity to 
 notice, connected with a diligent reading of those authors 
 who have shown themselves well acquainted with human 
 nature, and written expressly for life, needs no proof. 
 Among these, however, the old classic authors maintain so 
 high a rank, that few others can be compared with them. 
 
 1 frankly admit, therefore, that they and their best mo- 
 ralists, in connexion with the Bible, which I read inces- 
 santly, constituted my preacher's magazine. By them I 
 have been led to a multitude of reflections, not only of 
 practical utility, but very great importance. By them I 
 have been enabled to find a thousand things in the moral 
 precepts of the Bible, which, without this index, would 
 forever have escaped me. 1 have no fears, my dear friend, 
 
 * Quintilian, InstUut. Orator. 1. XII. c. 4, 
 
 ■j- Hence, Quintilian wished to have ethics included in rhetoric. Instit. Orato. 
 1. XII. c. 2; ^ 9 seqq. 
 
LETTER VII. 
 
 45 
 
 of your taking offence at this confession. The truth al- 
 ways remains the truth whenever and wherever it may be 
 found ; and should not a preacher of the present day, draw 
 from those very same sources from which the most judi- 
 cious fathers of the ancient church and its best preachers, 
 agreeably to their own confessions, rejoiced to draw so 
 much that was useful ?^ But enough of the years I devot- 
 ed to study. As soon as 1 have more time to spare, I will 
 give you some fariher information respecting the com- 
 mencement of my academical career, and the influence 
 which it probably exerted upon my education, preparatory 
 to becoming a preacher. Farewell. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 Pnepares for teaching- — Lectures — Becomes Professor Extraordinary of Phi- 
 losophy, Professor Ordinary of Theology, and Provost of the Castle Church 
 — Passes through a painful mental struggle — Preserved from skepticism by 
 respect for the Bible and for morality— The efifect of all this on his ministe- 
 rial education. 
 
 Mr Dear Friend — 
 
 Permit me to give you a very short account of the 
 changes I passed through from the commencement of my 
 duties as academical teacher, until I was intrusted with 
 the ministerial office. It will then be easy for us to ascer- 
 tain in what respects they contributed to prepare me for 
 that office. 
 
 *The oration of Basilius the Great, Ad adolescentes de mode, e Uteris Grae- 
 cis utilitatem percipiendi, is known. Comp. Krebsen's Abhandlung Ober 
 diese Schrift, in the Opuscula academica et scholastica, p.398ss,, which Sturz 
 has printed with his edition of the above named oration. '' Philosophi autem," 
 says Augustin, " qui vocantur, si qua forte vera et fidei nostrae accommodata 
 dixerunt, maxime Platonici, non solum formidanda non sunt, sed ab eis etiam, 
 tamquam iniustis possessoribus, in usum nostrum vLndicanda." De doctrina 
 Christiana, 1, II. c, 40. 
 
46 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 In Nov. 1777, I went about qualifying myself for the 
 work before me, and devoted from that time until the 
 Easter of 1778, to preparing the lectures which I intended 
 to deliver. These lectures, which treated of philosophical 
 and philological subjects, attracted so many hearers, that 
 I was encouraged to continue them ; and being requested 
 by many of my hearers to lecture upon theology also, in 
 Nov. of the year 1778, 1 took the degree of Bachelor of 
 Theology, necessary for this purpose. In 1780, 1 was ap- 
 pointed Professor Extraordinary of Philosophy. With ex- 
 press reference to this appointment, I then devoted by far 
 the greatest part of my time to the philosophical sciences, 
 though my hearers induced me to alternate some theologi- 
 cal lectures with the philosophical. Scarcely had I sus- 
 tained the office of Professor Extraordinary of Philosophy 
 for two years, when I was called to become Professor Or- 
 dinary of Theology, with the express reserve, however, of 
 my former professorship. Accordingly, in Nov., 1782, I 
 became Doctor of Theology, and in Dec. of the same 
 year, entered upon the duties of my new office. From 
 this time onward, my attention was divided between phi- 
 losophy and theology, as I was called upon to teach both 
 of these sciences ; and as, excited by the number, zeal, 
 and adherence of my auditors, I read from four to five or 
 even more lectures, a day, it was not long before I had 
 occasion to go through with the substance of both depart- 
 ments. In this manner I had labored but two years, when 
 I received the office of Provost of the Castle or University 
 Church, and of course, that of preacher, upon which I ac- 
 tually entered on the feast of Mary's Annunciation, in 
 1784. In addition to my professorial duties, therefore, I 
 had now all at once become obligated to deliver a sermon 
 in the University Church, on the forenoon of every Sab- 
 bath and festival. Before I say any thing of my labors as 
 provost, however, let us go back, my dear friend, to the 
 commencement of those years, of whose changes I have 
 given you so cursory a survey, in order to see what was 
 done during this time to prepare me for the business of 
 preaching, and ensure me some success in the ministerial 
 office. 
 
 From 1778 to 1784, 1 did not, I may say, exercise my-« 
 
LETTER VII. ' 47 
 
 self in preaching, at all ; for during this period, I certainly 
 did noi preach more than four times at the farthest ; and 
 one of these, was, when I became Doctor of Theology. 
 This is easy to be accounted for. During this period, I 
 was not obliged to preach either as a matter of duty or 
 office ; and "having enough to do widi the sciences, the 
 principles of which I wished thoroughly to investigate, and 
 then exhibit in the clearest and best manner, I could not 
 think of entering the pulpit. Besides, so long as I was 
 Professor Extraordinary of Philosophy, I was uncertain 
 whether I should not entirely and forever exchange the 
 pulpit for the philosophical chair. At least, I had so much 
 to do with the latter and for it, that I lost the former en- 
 tirely out of view. I did indeed conduct exercises in a 
 small society and at hs request, in the composition and 
 delivery of sermons; and in particular, give some general 
 directions respecting their proper construction. These, 
 however, were out of the usual course, and soon brought 
 to a close by the gradual dispersion of the society. With 
 res:ular exercises of this kind, I absolutely had nothing to 
 do, during this period. 
 
 And here, my dear friend, I cannot avoid giving you a 
 description of the internal struggle so singular, and, in re- 
 spect to my whole learned education, so important, through 
 which I passed, in the first years of my academical career. 
 I have told you that I was a zealous Crusian when I be- 
 gan to deliver lectures. If 1 had not been, I should not 
 have taken the trouble which I actually did, to acquire a 
 thorough knowledge of the system of this somewhat heavy 
 philosopher. Accordingly, I adopted it in my first lec- 
 , lures. In so doing, however, I felt myself under a press- 
 ing necessity to become acquainted also with other philo- 
 sophical systems ; in part, for the purpose of ascertaining 
 what the best geniuses of every age had thought respect- 
 ing the great problems which philosophy has to solve ; and 
 m part, because I saw that my own views could not be ♦ 
 thorough and satisfactory until I had taken such a survey, 
 and become acquainted with opposing systems. Hence, I 
 began with great zeal to look into the most celebrated sys- 
 tems of the ancient and modern world, and in particular, 
 to read the various authors extant upon every system. 
 
48 LETTER Vll. 
 
 \ 
 
 But how astonished I was, and overwhelmed with em- 
 barrassment, when, in this course of study, I discovered a 
 multitude of weak parts in my own system, of which I 
 had before had no suspicion. In proportion as my philo- 
 sophical views were extended, I learned, that many things 
 could be said in favor of those positions, which, to the par- 
 tial Crusians, had either appeared absurd, or highly dan- 
 gerous ; the stronger I began to feel that every system con- 
 tains something true and good ; that in every one, human 
 reason exhibits itself in some peculiar way, and hence, 
 that every one is deserving of investigation and respect ; 
 the more doubts arose in my mind ; the more uncertain 
 the -ground became, upon which I before believed myself 
 standing with such firmness ; and finally, it came to such a 
 pass, (for why should I not confess to you the truth,) — it 
 came to such a pass, that I had nothing firm under my 
 feet ; that I was involved in the mazes of discordant spec- 
 ulations, and fluttering as it were in the air, without know- 
 ing any longer where to find the ground. 
 
 About this time, disputes became more and more gen- 
 eral in the theological world, and not only threatened to 
 shake doctrinal theology in particular, but actually to over- 
 turn it. These greatly added to the perplexity of my in- 
 ternal fermentation, and sometimes increased it to the most 
 painful disquietude. 
 
 Neither my conscience nor my heart, however, would 
 suffer me to remain ignorant of these disputes and discus- 
 sions. The question. What connexion has philosophy 
 with revelation, and how can the two be reconciled togeth- 
 er ? had always been an interesting and important one to 
 me, and it became increasingly so, from the moment I was 
 called to deliver lectures upon theology. It is in vain for 
 me to attempt to give you a description of the sad strug- 
 gle in which I saw myself involved every morning ; — a 
 struggle which was renewed with every preparation I made 
 for lecturing, and as often accompanied with the greatest 
 helplessness and embarrassment. The.idea of saying any 
 thing which should infect the youth with pernicious error, 
 filled me with trembling ; and yet I had to speak of a 
 thousand things respecting which I was obliged to explain 
 myself with such problematicalness, as to render a convic» 
 
LETTER Vll. 49 
 
 tion of the truth impossible. Accordingly, the striking of 
 the clock which called ine to the lecture-room, often found 
 me walking up and down my chamber with tears in my 
 eyes, engaged in earnest prayer to Gad, that he would 
 guide me at least in such a manner, as not to suffer me to 
 do any thing detrimental to religion and morality ; and not 
 unfrequently was it difficult for me to conceal my internal 
 commotion from my hearers. Notwithstanding the un- 
 certainty, however, in which all my knowledge, even that 
 which I had considered as resting upon a solid basis, was, 
 about this time involved, two principles remained by me 
 unshaken : First, never to permit myself to indulge in any 
 explanations in philosophy which did violence to my moral 
 feelings; and second, never to assert any thing in theology 
 which was at variance with the obvious declarations of the 
 Bible. 
 
 That any thing could be true in philosophy which was 
 prejudicial to morality, was something of which I could in 
 no wise be convinced. Positions of this kind, with how 
 •much so ever plausibility they were laid down, always dis- 
 gusted me. By means of the moral education I had re- 
 ceived, and the diligent attention I had paid to my own 
 improvement, moral feeling had been rendered too active 
 in me, not immediately to reject and that too whh aversion, 
 every position of an immoral tendency ; and whenever 
 such occurred to me, I soon succeeded in discovering 
 their falsity and tracing out the sophisms upon which they 
 rested. Hence, though 1 found myself unable to embrace 
 any party as a whole, and felt very far removed from any 
 system which had been thoroughly tried and was satisfac- 
 tory to myself, yet I never embraced any opinions of a 
 dangerous character or prejudicial to morality ; and be- 
 sides, I was an Eclectic, whose object was to obtain what 
 appeared to be the best and most tenable of every system, 
 and arrange It in a convenient form. This being the case, 
 that my philosophical lectures were always assuming a 
 new aspect Is a matter of course. I constantly extended 
 my investigations and arrived at new views and re- 
 sults. This could prove of no disadvantage to my hear- 
 ers. I always gave them, what, according to duty and 
 conscience, I considered the best and truest ; and if any 
 6 
 
50 LETTER VII. 
 
 of them, on hearing me lecture upon the same subjects 
 again, discovered changes, it led them to reflect for them- 
 selves, and filled ihem with a spirit of investigation ; and 
 to awaken a spirit of investigation in my hearers, and teach 
 them to stand upon their own feet, was the grand object 
 of all my lectures, parucularly the philosophical. 
 
 In regard to theology : The principle, not to approve 
 of any thing in theology v;^hich was at variance with the 
 obvious declarations of the Bible, confined me to a mid- 
 dle course, in which, with sufficient freedom for examina- 
 tion, I was restrained from running oflf too far into error. 
 That this proved prejudicialto the students committed to my 
 charge, I will not pretend to deny. The Bible, as I lately 
 informed you, my dear friend, had been my companion 
 from my youth. [ had never ceased to look upon it as 
 the word of God to man, and read it as such. To me 
 therefore it was of sacred and decisive authority. Hence, 
 a position which contradicted it, disgusted my religious 
 feelings, as m.uch as an immoral assertion did my moral 
 sense. That I regularly and faithfully examined the 
 principles upon which the authority of the Scriptures rest, 
 you will take for granted. Before 1 did so, however, it 
 was a matter of conscience with me not to involve myself 
 in any contention with a book which originated with God, 
 and constitutes the instruction of so large a portion of our 
 race ; the divine power of which I had so often experi- 
 enced in my own heart, and for which all my feelings had 
 ever declared in so decided a manner. In addition to this, 
 I was born in a church, which is the proper kingdom of 
 the Scriptures, acknowledging as it does no other unlimit- 
 ed authority and deriving its system of doctrines entirely 
 from them. This system appeared to me to be far more 
 agreeable to the Scriptures, provided they are received 
 without any human refinements or perversions, than that 
 of any other religious party of Christians. Hence, not- 
 withstanding the greatness of my internal fermentation, and 
 the length of my struggles with doubts of every kind, I 
 could, from the very beginning, not only teach the system 
 of doctrines embraced by the Evangelical church, but, if 
 I acted conscientiously, was obliged to do so. Of course, 
 I afterwards did this with increasing delight and thorough- 
 
 
LETTER VII. 
 
 51 
 
 ness ; as 1 became more and more convinced, that the es- 
 sential parts of ti)is system are contained in the Scriptures 
 and too deeply founded upon them, ever to be mistaken, 
 or by any o( the arts of interpretation, entirely explained 
 
 away. 
 
 And now, my dear friend, as to the result : Strictly 
 speakins;, the six years which I have just described or the 
 time from 1778 to 1784, cannot be reckoned as devoted 
 to an immediate preparation for the ministry. During this 
 remrirkable period of my life, I was zealouslyengagedin 
 inquiries after truth and certainty, and made it my prin- 
 cipal aim to obtain correct views of those subjects 
 which by every rational man ought to be looked upon as 
 the most sacred and important. With the business of 
 prearhins; during this period of struggle, I did not trouble 
 myself. That it was a period of immense usefulness to 
 me, however, in this respect, you will yourself infer. The 
 exercises in teaching and thinking in which I had to en- 
 gage, tlie various acquisitions which 1 was obliged to make, 
 the stores of useful materials which I acquired, the many 
 precious reflections to which I was led, and, what is more 
 than all the rest, the joyful convictions respecting the most 
 important concerns of man, which I gradually obtained, — 
 all these proved of great value to me when I began to 
 preach. I then found myself neither destitute of materials 
 to work upon, nor void of skill to give what was to be de- 
 livered, the req-iisite order and connexion. In respect 
 ako to expression and representation, I had gained more 
 than I had lost ; for without words it is impossible to phil- 
 osophize, and the reading of the best and acutest writers 
 in which I employed myself during this period, proved 
 of great use to me in increasing my knowledge of lan- 
 guage and forming my taste. It is time, however, for me 
 to hasten to my entrance upon the business of preaching. 
 Permit me to give you an account of myself in this res- 
 pect in my next letter, and in the mean time, farewell. 
 
5S LETTER VIII. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 Becomes a Pastor — Ministerial habits — Complains of his memory — No imita- 
 tor — Wrote very methodically — Ilis first sermons quite defective — Ought to 
 have read and studied the best masters. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 I had not preached more than sixteen or twenty times 
 at the farthest, in all my life, when I was ushered into a very 
 important station as a minister of the Gospel, and one, 
 who was to have young students for his hearers, and serve 
 as a pattern to those who were destined to become minis- 
 ters themselves. Yoii will readily suppose that 1 deeply 
 felt the im|)ortance of my calling, and entered upon it re- 
 solved to do the utmost in my power to perform iis duties, 
 and to omit nothing so far as knowledge and design were 
 concerned, which should be requisite for enabling me to 
 render my sermons useftd. As I was obliged to begin 
 preaching without having gone through much preparatory 
 exercise, in the midst of labors of an entirely different kind, 
 the whole employment with me had some peculiarities, 
 wh ch I will lay open to you in regular order. 
 
 I was scarcely ever master of my own time. Almost 
 every moment 1 had to spare, during the week, was devo- 
 ted to the business of my professorship. The only time 
 I had for composing sermons, was, what I had formerly 
 spent in reading and extending my studies. T was also 
 unable to calculate upon my health. It had never been 
 firm, and with the efforts which I was now obliged to 
 make, it certainly could not gain. Accordingly, I was 
 subject to sudden fits of indisposition, particularly to 
 ephemeral fevers, which often atacked me when 1 was 
 least prepared for them. 
 
 Hence, when I began to preach, I firmly resolved, nev- 
 er to postpone the composing of a sermon to the last mo- 
 ment, but always to commence the work as soon as possi- 
 ble. From the very outset, therefore, I made it an inva- 
 
LETTER VIII. 53 
 
 riable rule, before delivering one sermon, to have another 
 already prepared to follow it, in my desk. 
 
 This was of more than one advantage to me. I was 
 never driven to the necessity of preaching unprepared or 
 of extemporizing. I was ready for every occasion long 
 before it arrived. If unforeseen events occured, or my 
 studies were interrupted, or sudden fits of indisposition at- 
 tacked me, they could not injure my labor ; for if these 
 things took place during the latter part of the week, they 
 could not affect the sermon already in my desk, and am- 
 ple time was always left for me to plan another to succeed 
 it, and write it out, with all the requisite care. More than 
 all the rest, however, this habit of early preparation made 
 it unnecessary for me to do any thing in haste. Some- 
 times I did not succeed to my mind as to every point in 
 my first attempts at composing a sermon. As however 
 more than a week was to elapse before it would be dehv- 
 ered, I had ample time for working over the whole of it 
 or a part, as often as I pleased, and endeavoring to render 
 it, at least, in some measure perfect.^ Hence, my ser- 
 mons naturally acquired a certain uniformity of character. 
 At any rate, they had this perfection if no other, that one 
 was not exalted too much above another, as all had in the 
 main received an equal share of attention. These advan- 
 tages induced me to continue the habit of early prepara- 
 tion for the pulpit, even after I ceased to be professor, 
 when I had far more time to devote to my sermons. This 
 I was constrained to do, so much the more, from the fact, 
 that the ideal perfection at which I aimed in composing a 
 sermon, was always becoming more elevated, and conse- 
 quently, required me to make increasing exertions to effect 
 its attainment. I labored therefore at this time, notwith- 
 standing I had preached so often and so long, more hours 
 and with greater diligence upon my sermons than I did at 
 first ; and hence, was obliged to calculate closer than for- 
 merly, in order to obtain sufficient leisure for composing 
 them. 
 
 * [" I cannot recommend Reinhard's custom of writing a second sermon 
 before the first was delivered, to those who commit their discourses ; as the 
 two things united must occasion perplexity," Tzschirner, Briefe veranlasst 
 ■durch Reinhard's Gestandnisse, u. s. w. Sulzbach, 1810, S. 248 ff.] 
 
 *5 
 
$4 LETTER VIII. 
 
 No sooner had I commenced the business of preaching, 
 than I became very painfully conscious of a defect, which 
 had not wholly escaped me before, but which I had not 
 much regarded ; namely, the want of a s!:ood, ready, and 
 retentive memory for words. In recollecting things, con- 
 nected trains of thought, and whole systems of well ar- 
 ranged ideas, I never found any difficulty ; and the atten- 
 tion 1 had paid to philosophy, had greatly exercised and 
 strengthened my memory in this respect. To call to 
 mind however a discourse I was to deliver, in exactly 
 those words and phrases in which it was written, was not 
 so easy a task ; nor could 1, at first, consistently with the 
 arrangements 1 had made for composing my sermons, en- 
 tirely prevent all the injurious results of a defective mem- 
 ory. Nevertheless, I was sensible of the impossibility of 
 avoiding the introduction of inappropriate and undignified 
 expressions, falling into tautological excrescenses, speaking 
 with imperspicuity and indefiniteness, and perhaps, by means 
 of a careless style, of exciting aversion and disgust, in 
 any other way, than by adhering to the very terms and ex- 
 pressions, which, in writing my sermons, I had selected as 
 the best. Hence, I applied every spare moment I could 
 find during the week, particularly dressing time, to gradual- 
 ly committing my sermon to memory, in order that I might 
 be able to deliver it without embarrassment. That under 
 such circumstances, I found this part of my duty the hard- 
 est I had to perform, is a confession you will naturally ex- 
 pect. Indeed, with the most conscientious diligence and 
 care in this respect, 1 could not avoid letting many things 
 slip in the delivery, and often entirely destroying a well 
 constructed period, by substituting new and ill-adapted ex- 
 pressions instead of the ones which had originally been 
 selected ; nor have I been able by constant exercise, to 
 remedy this natural defect of my memory; for it costs 
 me now as much trouble as it did at first, to take up every 
 thing when I preach, exactly in the order in which it was 
 conceived and written.* 
 
 * ["That a sermon should be carefully worked out and committed to mem- 
 ory beforehand, whenever it is possible, I have," saysTzschirner, (Rriefe u. s. 
 w., already referred to, S. 248 ff.,) " become thoroughly convinced. To read a 
 iermou shackles an orator, prevents his hearers from indulging the agreeable 
 
LETTER VIII. 55 
 
 From the circumstances which I have now recounied, 
 you will be able in a great measure to collect the reasons 
 why my sermons have received ihe peculiar form and di- 
 vision which they possess. For me to imitate a master, 
 when 1 was obliged to begin preaching, was impossible. 
 From the history of literature indeed, 1 had become ac- 
 quainted wiih the most distinguished men in this depart- 
 ment, but of their mode of sermonizing I was totally igno- 
 rant. The above named Passion Sermons of Saurin were 
 the only ones I had ever read, and all the idea I ever had 
 of imitating this excellent man, soon passed away in the 
 midst of a pressure of business, or was annihilated by that 
 activity of thought which will not readily submit to re- 
 straint. I gave myself up, therefore, to my own opinions 
 and feelings. 
 
 When a professor, I was in the habit of composing my 
 discourses in a very methodical manner, and this habit fol- 
 lowed me into the pulpit. My sermons contained defini- 
 tions, divisions, and arguments, just like my lectures; and 
 
 illusion that what he says and feels is the result of the moment, and transforms 
 him into a mere teacher. It may be tolerated in an aged man, but should be 
 wholly avoided by the young- To extemporize leads to tuperficiali'y and 
 chatteruig. True, the ancients often extemporized, but not until after years of 
 training, and then on occasions which sponianeousls furnished the orator with 
 enough to say; whereas the minister has to draw from his o\%ti meditations. 
 It is far better, indeed, for a man to speak from a plan, than a half written; 
 half commitlerl sermon; but I advise you, my dear Iriend, to extemporize as 
 little as possible." The opinion here expressed, is quite a prevalent one in 
 Germany, and has many plausible arguments in its favor; but is it correct? 
 Of the different modes of addressing an audience, that is the best whicii ena- 
 bles the orator to keep the field of thought the most vividly before him. With 
 the Germans, we must ask, What can be more unfavorable than reading a ser- 
 mon, in this respect ? To speak a sermon memoriter is ascending a grade 
 higher, provided it be well committed, and the man have a soul that will kindle. 
 How easy, however, even in this case, to los(! sight of the field of thought, in 
 the mechanical process of rehearsing words ? 'J'hat many eloquent discourses 
 must be composed, long and inten>ely analyzed, studied, and repealed, be 
 fore a man can become an orator, is readily admitted ; but is memoriter 
 preaching the most favorable to oratory? Will it enable a man to keep the 
 field of thought most vividly before him ?, And yet the objections made by the 
 Germans to extemporary speaking, are also founded in truth. Nothing can be 
 more injurious in the end, to real oratory, or to the cause of truth, than that 
 chaptering mode of declaiming which is so generally known as extemporary 
 preaching. There is another mode, which if I mistake not, combines the ad- 
 vantages both of memoriter preaching and extemporizing, enables a man to 
 keep the field of thought before him, thus lighting up the fire within, and holds 
 him ready for new impulses ; the attainment of which, will constitute the per- 
 fect orator. It consists in committing thoughts and illustrations to memory 
 ■with little or no reference to words, and then giving the audience an unhesi- 
 tating and simjile description of what lies before the mind, as we describe a 
 beautiful landscape to a friend.] 
 
56 LETTER VIII, 
 
 were as closely directed in every respect to the devotion of 
 my hearers in the church, as the latter were to the atten- 
 tion of my hearers in the theological lecture-room. That 
 the early education I received had greatly inclined me to 
 this kind of preaching, you will in^er, my dear friend, from 
 what has already been said. There were some particular 
 reasons, however, which justified me, as [ supposed, in 
 this, I may almost say, scholastic mode of preaching. As 
 1 had to preach in the University Church, the majority of 
 my hearers were learned men and students. To these, 
 capable as they were of following out a regular and close- 
 ly connected discourse, t considered it my duty to have 
 particular respect. Strictly speaking, they had been in- 
 trusted to me, and constituted my church. To this it may 
 be added, that my capricious memory did not well retain 
 any thing but what was closely connected together. The 
 more accurately and methodically my sermon was adjust- 
 ed in all its parts, even the smallest divisions, the easier I 
 found it to be gotten by heart. "^ That in the midst of the 
 loads of business of every kind with which 1 was surround- 
 ed, I should avail myself of this assistance as much as 
 possible, was natural. Finally, I learned from experi- 
 ence that this mode of preaching proved of great utility, 
 even to cogimon people. At first, only a few came to 
 hear me. My manner of preaching was too strange to 
 them to present them with many attractions. These (ew 
 however, gradually became accustomed to my style of 
 writing, and soon their numbers increased ; so that in the 
 end, I found myself by no means destitute of illiterate 
 hearers. Those of this class who attended, were, in a 
 short time, able accurately to remember the whole train of 
 thought contained in each sermon, together with its princi- 
 pal contents. There were citizens' wives, who could, from 
 Sabbath to Sabbath, give a minute account of each dis- 
 course they heard, with all its divisions and sub-divisions. 
 As, therefore, I considered it my duty to preach from 
 memory, and felt anxious to have my hearers as intimately 
 acquainted as possible, with what I said, utility required 
 me, as I believed, to continue this mode of sermonizing. 
 
 * Quintilian expressly recommends good anangement for the sake of the 
 assistance it affords a man's memory. Institut. Orat. 1. XL c. 2, 9; 36, 37. 
 
LETTER VIII, ' 67 
 
 It is true, that in so doing, f was obliged to renounce many 
 things connected wiih rhetorical taste; but I did iliis the 
 more willingly, as I had always looked upon the Christian 
 minister, as n teacher, rather than an orator; and from 
 experience, I gradually learned, that a discoiuse so com- 
 posed as to constitute a well arranged whole, is not only 
 capable of heing clothed in an interesting dress, but also of 
 being filled with animation. Farther on, hf)wever, I shall 
 call your attention more particularly to some parts of this 
 method, which I either do not wish tjo have imitated at all, 
 or, at least, not by preachers in the country. 
 
 Here I must add the confession, that the sermons I 
 preached during the first years of my ministry, were, in 
 reality, very imperfect. Tlie reason of this was, that 1 had 
 gone through no exercises in this department, and was 
 obliged to acquire all the skill which I ouglit to have l)rought 
 with me to the work, in the progress of the work itself. J 
 cannot forbear saying, therefore ; lei no one destined for 
 the ministry, fail to improve every opportunity which pre- 
 sents, in attending to the necessary preparatory exercises. 
 The greatest natural talents will not compensate for the want 
 of such exercises. A man of genius will get along better, 
 indeed, under such cijcmustances, than one that is not, 
 and complete his task at an earlier period ; bur length of 
 time will certainly not accomplish what, with a little more 
 diligence in the proper season, miglu have been accom- 
 plished at once. 1 felt the imperfection of my sermons 
 very sensibly, — more sensibly than my goodnatured hear- 
 ers. Hence, though I had preached at Wiitemberg for 
 eight years, yet I had not been persuaded to print more 
 than eighteen sermons, two of them separately, as 1 have 
 already informed you, my dear friend ; the remaining six- 
 teen, in a volume by themselves. I became more deeply 
 sensible, however, of the imperfections of these sermons, 
 some lime afterwards, than 1 was while at Wiuemberg. | 
 then undertook to repeal some of the sermons which I had 
 formerly delivered, but could not, so dissatisfied was I with 
 them, without working them entirely over. Many years 
 have now elapsed since I altogether relinquished such an 
 attempt ; for though I now have more than a hundred such 
 sermons by me, yet, taken as a whole, they are, according 
 
o6 LETTER VIII. 
 
 to my present feelings, so very imperfect, that I should be 
 obliged to work them all over in order to render them tol- 
 erable. 
 
 Let me conclude this letter, my dear friend, with a con- 
 fession wiiich I feel bound to make by way of caution to 
 young ministers. Perhaps my sermons would have been 
 far better at an earlier period, if I had read and studied the 
 best masters in the department to which I was devoted, 
 taking them for my guides. This, however, I never did, 
 and, oppressed as I was with business, was utterly unable 
 to do. It is true, I had the charge of a little society, which 
 met once a week, formed plans, and wrote sermons, sub- 
 mitting thetn to my criticism. With this society, there 
 was also connected a reading -gssociation, in which fifty 
 volumes of works selected by myself with an especial re- 
 ference to the ministry, were circulated every week. Of 
 course, these works comprised some of the best collections 
 of sermons then in existence, and which students might 
 well have considered as patterns. However diligently they 
 were read by others, I had no lime to read them, indeed, 
 obliged as I was, constantly to compose sermons for my- 
 self, I could not think of reading the sermons of others. If 
 I was ever so happy as to get any time for reading, I wished 
 to devote it to somethins; in another form which was cal- 
 culated to recruit me by novelty or variety. It was not 
 until I had been Court Preacher for several years, that I 
 began to form an acquaintance with the spirit and manner 
 of the best French, English, and German preachers. Some 
 of Zollikofer's sermons were the first 1 read for this pur- 
 pose. I immediately found the productions of this great 
 man, fraught with a thousand excellencies which mine did 
 not possess, but which they might have possessed, at least 
 in part, had I made myself acquainted with them at an 
 earlier period I was now too old, however, to think of 
 imitation, and too much habituated to my own method, to 
 effect any great changes in it. The only advantnge there- 
 fore which I could at this time, and which I actually did, 
 draw from them, consisted in the fact, that they induced 
 me to lay myself under higher obligations, and made me 
 feel very vividly how far 1 still was, from the goal of per- 
 fection. 
 
LETTER IX. 5D 
 
 I hope that young preachers will take warning from my 
 example. In more than one respect, it is necessary and 
 useful for a man to obtain a practicable knowledge ol what 
 is best and most worthy of being read, in the department 
 to which he is devoted ; nor will it contribute in any small 
 degree, towards perfecting the education of a minister, if 
 he from time to time make himself acquainted with the 
 greatest masters in his art and study their works ; not 
 for the p)U'pose of slavishly imitating them, but in order to 
 quicken his perception of the truly beautiful and great, 
 correct his taste, and then form a method of his own which 
 shall harmonize the best with his powers, talents, and the 
 circumstances in v.'hich he is placed. I had been taught 
 by Cicero, to neglect none of the productions of the great- 
 est orators. Every body acquainted with his works, knows 
 from his Brutus, how familiar he was with all the Greek 
 and Roman sciences connected with his art, and with what 
 diligence he studied the literature of his department. May 
 his example so much neglected by myself in this respectj 
 prove exciting and salutary to others. Farewell. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 Chooses to speak of his creed — Began preaching in times of great religious 
 controversy — was censured by some, apologized for, by others, for adher- 
 ing to Orthodoxy — Very much pained by the latter — How he arrived at his 
 religious views — Early saw the necessity of adhering entirely to reason, or 
 entirely to revelation — Those following a middle course, involred in uncer- 
 tadnty — Knew not what they were about — Felt himself obhged to adhere 
 entirely to revelation — Welcomes truth however from all quarters — A be- 
 lief in revelation favorable to reason and effect — The grand cause of his 
 adherence to the Gospel, his need of a Saviour — Solemn conclusion. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 You will excuse me, you say, from speaking of the 
 subjects and contents of my sermons, inasmuch as i 
 
60 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 is sufficiently evident to every one, who examines them, 
 that the principles they contain are those of the Evan- 
 gelical church, as enribodied in iis articles of faith ; and 
 that none of them, however numerous they are, can be 
 looked upon as merely doctrinal or ethical, as the theo- 
 retical and practical parts of religion are every where com- 
 bined together, and exhibited in their mutual connexion. 
 I not only acknowledge the justice of these remarks, but 
 confess the gratitude J feel, for the readiness with which 
 you refrain from asking me to defend my orthodoxy 
 and adherence to the ancient dcJctrines of our church. 
 Such in all cases being the character of my sermons, you 
 wish for, nothing more, as you say, respecting them, than an 
 account of the form in which they were composed. You 
 will excuse me, however, if I make no use of your for- 
 bearance. Permit me, on the other hand, to devote this 
 letter to saying something about the I'easons why my ser- 
 mons contain such principles and no others. 
 
 On account of my adherence to the doctrines of our 
 church, or rather lo the doctrines of the Bible, which have 
 always been recognized in my sermons, I have, on the 
 one hand, been bitterly censured, and in reality calumni- 
 ated ; and, on the other, tenderly apologized for and de- 
 fended ; and I will frankly confess to you, my dear friend, 
 that the latter has grieved me far more than the former. 
 
 I coinmenced preaching at a time in which our illumin- 
 atins, ilieologians had succeeded in rendering the doctrines 
 of Christianity so clear and intelligible, that nothing was 
 left but pure Rationalism. Then, for any who wished to 
 get applause and obtain journal approbation, it was an al- 
 most indispensable condition, that he sliould have declared 
 some book of the Bible spurious, or have attacked some 
 established doctrine. He who ventured to make his 
 appearance in public without doing homage to the spirit of 
 the age, might calculate upon being received with ridicule 
 and contempt. Tb.at I did not escape this fate ; that, on 
 the other hand, my adherence to the ancient doctrines was 
 pronounced incomprehensible by the reviewers, treated 
 with injustice and severity, and spoken of with bitterness 
 and sarcasm, is a matter with which you must have been 
 acquainted. One of these zealots thought it advisable to 
 
LETTER IX. 61) 
 
 give a connected representation of the most powerful 
 things which had been said in this respect, and pubhsh 
 them in a little book.* 
 
 On the other hand, as I never wrote a word in my own 
 defence, there were patrons who came forward without 
 invitation, for the purpose of solving the riddle. That I 
 remained such an old fashioned behever from stupidity or 
 want of learning, was something which, as they asserted, 
 could not be admitted. " It must therefore be supposed," 
 said they, " that he speaks as he does, in order to accom- 
 modate himself to the circumstances and relations in 
 which he is placed. It cannot be doubted that he is at 
 heart convinced of the opposite truths, and a firm be- 
 liever in the correctness of the modern explanations given 
 of the Scriptures, for what man of genius and learning is 
 not ? The country in which he instructs however, is prob- 
 ably not prepared for this new light ; or perhaps it is his 
 opinion, that a public religious teacher should deliver such 
 truths as he is enjoined to do by the state, without blend- 
 ing with them any particular opinions of his own ; and as, 
 in the celebrated work entitled, the Contest of the Facul- 
 ties^^ this was shown to be very rational and proper, so 
 every thing was cleared up, and but little left, necessary 
 for putting an end to my orthodoxy. 
 
 That this mode of apologizing for, and defending me, 
 filled my heart with far more pain than all the abuses I 
 received, is a thing at which no one will be less astonished, 
 my friend, than yourself. You know me, from long ex- 
 perience, to be frank and open hearted. You know, that 
 I never speak otherwise, even in common life, than as I 
 think. Yon know, that I cannot speak a word contrary to 
 my convictions, and that, should I attempt to do so, 
 it would die upon my tongue. You know that I never 
 flatter a man, and that, in the pulpit especially, whenever 
 it has been necessary, I have spoken with a frankness 
 amounting even to boldness. And, finally, you know, that 
 
 * It is entitled : Neueste protestantische Bekenntnisse flber Sectengeist 
 und Canzelkrieg, veranlasstdurch die Reiniiardische Reformationspredi^t von 
 1800, gesammelt zum Besten seiner AmlsbrQder von Wilhelm Kdster, Fredi- 
 gern in der Rheinpfalz. Deutschland, 1802. 
 
 t Der Sirelt der Facultaten. 
 
 6 
 
62 LETTER IX. 
 
 whenever this frankness became useless, or incapable of 
 defence, instead of changing my views and beginning to 
 speak in another tone, I invariably remained silent. And 
 yet, in the most important of all concerns, I was pronounc- 
 ed by the world a dishonest man ; was said to teach a re- 
 ligion which I did not believe ; and accused of perform- 
 ing the duties of my office like a miserable hireling, not 
 for the sake of the truth or the salvation of the souls in- 
 trusted to my care, but for the sake of ray own advan- 
 tage ! If the relations which I sustained in Saxony, were 
 so oppressive, could I not have gone into other countries, 
 where perfect freedom was to be enjoyed ? Did I not re- 
 ceive calls and invitations from such countries ? And was 
 1 not in general, so circumstanced, that I could obtain a 
 measure of independence, whenever I wished ? Happy 
 it was, that none of these deceptive representations pro- 
 duced any effect upon my church. My moral habits and 
 entire mode of action were of too upright a character, to 
 permit them to mistrust me in the least respect, or look 
 upon me as an equivocator. Besides, he who ever heard 
 me preach, knew from my manner, that what I uttered, 
 came from the heart, and felt, that I spoke the language 
 of deep rooted and firmly established conviction. 
 
 Permit me then to explain to you in a few words, how 
 I arrived at those views so offensive to our reforming the- 
 ologians. Of the labor it cost me to obtain harmonious 
 and firm results in philosophy and religion, I have already 
 given you an account. In my struggles after the truth, I 
 could not fail to perceive, that strict and systematic con- 
 nexion, unity of principle, and consistency of thought in 
 religion, could be acquired only by adhering entirely to 
 reason, or entirely to the Scriptures ; and hence, in reali- 
 ty, only by the Rationalist or Supernaturalist. With the 
 former, reason alone decides. What she does not com- 
 prehend and approve of, he utterly rejects from his creed. 
 His knowledge therefore is connected and homogeneous. 
 With him, the Scriptures have no more authority than any 
 other human production. He listens to what they say 
 only when it agrees with his own opinions ; and then, not 
 because he supposes it affords any decisive proof of what 
 he believes, for in this respect he trusts alone to reasooj 
 
LETTER IX. 63 
 
 but merely for the purpose of illustration, and showing, that 
 others have thought and believed, as he does. 
 
 In like manner, consistent with himself and in every re- 
 spect faithful to his own principles, is the Supernaturalist. 
 To him in matters of religion the Scriptures are, what 
 reason is to the Rationalist. He makes use of the latter 
 indeed, for the purpose of examining the claims of the 
 Scriptures, and the arguments in favor of their high origin ; 
 but as soon as this is done, — as soon as he is convinced 
 that the instructions they contain, originated with God, he 
 receives their authority as decisive in every thing pertain- 
 ing to religion. Thenceforward, reason has nothing to do 
 but to explain the Scriptures and endeavor to ascertain 
 their meaning ; and the doctrines to which this process 
 leads her, hovvever strange they may seem, or far they 
 may lie beyond the reach of her discovery or ability to 
 prove, she is by no means at liberty to reject, unless they 
 contain some things contradictory in themselves. On the 
 other hand, she is bound to recognize them as from God, 
 and yield obedience to them as of divine authority.* 
 
 It is perfectly evident, that a man will reason inconsis- 
 tently, and fail of lighting upon any satisfactory and de- 
 termining principle for the regulation of his knowledge, so 
 long as he pursues a middle course and makes reason and 
 Scripture co-ordinate, instead of making the one subordi- 
 
 ^ * " Respectins^ the possibility and necessity of a revelation," says Lessiug^ 
 * and the credibility of the many who lay claim to inspiration, reason alone 
 must decide. When she has settled these points and discovered a revelation, 
 she must look upon its containing things above her comprehension as an aro-u- 
 ment m its favor rather than an objection to it. One mig-ht as well have none, 
 as to think of excluding every thing- supernatural from his religion ; for what is 
 a revelation which reveals nothing ? Is it enough for a man to reject the 
 pame and retain the thing ? Are there no other unbelievers but those who re- 
 ject the name and the thing together V Soon after, he adds : " The very 
 idea of a revelation implies, that reason has been taken captive and brought 
 in subjection to faith 3 or rather, as this expression may seem harsh on the one 
 hand, and indicate opposition on the other, that reason has surrendered to 
 faith. This surrendering is nothing more than acknowledging her limits, as 
 soon as she is convinced of the reality of the revelation. Accordingly, this is 
 the position in which a man must maintain himself. To be laughed out of it 
 by invidious ridicule, betrays a soul contracted with vanity 5 to allow one's 
 self to think of relaxing the claims of these proofs, evinces a doubt in the 
 reahty of a revelation. What one tries to save in this way, will be lost with 
 so much the less opposition. It is only a snare which the opponents of the 
 Uiristian religion, by magnifying the incomprehensible, lay, to catch those of 
 Its defenders who are not altogether certain of the goodness of their cause 
 and wish above all things to guard the honor of their acuteness." Lessing, 
 bammtliche Werke, Th. V. S. 26—30. 
 
64 LETTER IX. 
 
 nate to the other. In this case, there is no way for deter- 
 mining the extent of their respective rights or adjusting 
 their proper claims. Nothing farther is then left but the 
 capricious will, under the direction of which, the man 
 sometimes yields to the control of reason, at others, to the 
 control of tlie Scriptures, and sometimes receives doc- 
 trines which are altogether unknown to reason, merely be- 
 cause they are found in the Bible ; and at others, rejects 
 positions, however Scriptural they may be and clearly ex- 
 pressed, merely because they are displeasing to reason. 
 Those who adopt this course, therefore, and act accord- 
 ingly, can never arrive at any thing definite. One will 
 incline too mijch to reason, another too much to revela- 
 tion. One will declare unworthy of belief and absurd, 
 what another adheres to, with firmness, and deems per- 
 fectly reconcilable with reason. He who has from his 
 youth retained a reverence for the Scriptures, will permit 
 them to exert a greater influence upon his system, than 
 one who early became accustomed to reject all authority 
 and follow merely his own reason.* 
 
 In this middle course, — -a course which never can lead 
 to any thing more than to rhapsodical knowledge composed 
 of heterogeneous materials, and hence, always disconnect- 
 ed and indefinite, — I thought I discovered the mostof ihose 
 theologians who were laboring for the purification of the 
 system of Christian truth. With due consideration I say 
 the most. That there were men among them who knew 
 well what they were about, and were genuine Rationalists, 
 
 « 
 
 [The above remarks of Reiuhard, respecting' the necessity of every one's 
 adhering allogether to reason, or altogether to revelation, who would obtain 
 consistent views in matters of religion, served to renew the controversy upon 
 this subject, in Germany. Many good men thought, and doubtless still think, 
 that Reinhard was too severe in his mode of thinking in this respect. To this 
 effect are the remarks of Tzschirner, Briefe, veranlasst, u. s. w., V. S. 75 ff. 
 His correspondent, while he declares himself a believer in revelation, declares 
 himself unable to receive the whole of the Bible as the woni of God, having- 
 strong objections to what it says respecting the introduction of mortality into 
 the world, as well as respecting angels, demons, &c,; and Tzschirner justifies 
 him, declaring he believes it possible for a man to take this ground, and yet 
 obtain consistent views in religion. Those who wish to enter into this subject, 
 will find a good guide in the Germ, Conv. Lex. Art. RotionaUsv.vs ; willi 
 which may be connected particularly, Naturalismus , Supranaturalismus, 
 Syncretismus ; and several works referred to at the end of Tzschirner's fifth 
 Letter mentioned above. Compare Prof. Stuart's Letter to the Rev. Wm. E. 
 Channing, p. 13 f. third ed., And. 1819.] 
 
LETTER IX. 65 
 
 but thought it advisable not to let it be known, and hence, 
 at heart, rfjected every thing positive in religion, without 
 questioning it at all in public, or making it a subject of dis- 
 pute, was a fact too obvious to escape the notice of atten- 
 tive observers. But. by far the greater part of these illu- 
 minating theologians in reality knew not what they were 
 about, and had no idea of the tendency of their efforts. 
 Believing they were doing no small service to the cause of 
 truth, and elevating themselves not a little above the com- 
 mon mass of the people, they rejected now this, now that, 
 dogma from the old system, while at the same time they 
 retained a multitude of others, as true, which, for the same 
 reasons, ought likewise to have been rejected. By this 
 means, the whole of doctrinal theology was rendered so 
 fluctuating and insecure, that nothing could any longer be 
 said of it, as a system. Very few knew where they were. 
 Having taken away confidence in the old system, in which 
 the Scriptures decided every thing, without being suffi- 
 ciently resolute to reject all Scriptural authority, and follow 
 the dictates of reason alone, they fell into a strange kind of 
 capitulation with the two; at one time, sought to abate 
 something from the Scriptures in order to satisfy reason, 
 at another, rendered it so obliging as to admit the validity 
 of some things which stood too obviously on the face of 
 Scripture to be rejected ; and by means of this mediation 
 and negociation, now looked upon reason as the rightest, 
 and then the Scriptures, according as the mediator and 
 negociator felt inclined to act the interpreter or the phi- 
 losopher, and the other circumstances in which he was 
 placed, seemed to call for caution or to authorize licen- 
 tiousness. 
 
 Was Lessing to blame for embracing every opportunity 
 to ridicule this lamentable workmanship of the illuminating 
 theologians, and declare aloud, that it disgusted him and 
 bore no comparison with the old consistent Orthodoxy ?* 
 
 * Compare Lessing^'a Works, already quoted, Th. V. S. 25 f. ; and Les- 
 sm^'sLeben, nebst seinem noch Ubrig-en literarischen Nachlasse, Th. I. S.31L 
 Other men of excellent genius, who, as they were not theologians, felt them- 
 selves free from restraint, have expressed the same opinion. " What should 
 we not expect," says Sturz, " from the priest, who makes known all the duties 
 of benevolence as the laws of God's love, spreads abroad the terror of God's 
 almighty power, and excites feelings in favor of more elevated virtue, and an- 
 ticipations of a rewarding futurity, if he were now ciothed with that sacred 
 *6 
 
66 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 It was utterly impossible, indeed, for me, to resolve to 
 share in it, as it was necessary for me to define my know- 
 ledge and reduce it to connexion. For me, therefore, 
 only two courses were left. I was obliged either to reject 
 the Gospel and all divine revelation, and become a strict 
 Rationalist, or else to make reason subordinate to the 
 Scriptures in matters of faith, and become a strict Super- 
 naturalist. The former I could not do. Revelation ap- 
 peared to me to have too much in its favor, to permit me 
 to look upon it as error and deception. In proportion as I 
 became acquainted with the contentions, contradictions, and 
 errors of human reason, I learned to consider the Deity's 
 revealing his will to us, not only as a desirable act of be- 
 nevolence, but as regards our wants, a matter of necessity. 
 And finally, I had derived such benefit to my own heart 
 from the Scriptures, to which T had adhered from my ear- 
 liest youth, and so often, as I believed, experienced their 
 divine power, that 1 should have been obliged to act against 
 duty and conscience, had I resolved to break away from 
 them. For me, therefore, no choice was left. I was 
 obliged to give myself up to the influence of revelation, 
 and, without exception, admit the truth of every thing that 
 had been proved out of the Scriptures. Now the system 
 of doctrines professed by the Evangelical church, appear- 
 ed to me to accord far more with the Scriptures, than any 
 other. It was impossible for me not to see, that it was 
 connected in itself, strictly consistent, and easy to be re- 
 conciled with reason, as soon as she becomes conscious of 
 her boundaries, and refrains from meddling with indemon- 
 strable assertions. It was very natural, therefore, that I 
 should firmly adhere to the system of our church and de- 
 liver its doctrines in the cathedral and the pulpit, without 
 suffering myself to be disturbed in the least degree, by what 
 was brought forward to oppose them. In so doing, how- 
 ever, I did not approve of every definition and improve- 
 ment which had been introduced into this system in con- 
 dignity which formerly exalted religion more than it did the man ? The priest, 
 however, has been degraded by wit, laughed at for believing in mysteries, 
 and defamed for firmly adhering to ancient creeds. Accordingly, he strives 
 against contempt, improves, explains, finds fault, and forms agreements, rises 
 up in rebellion against symbolical servitude, and gives much to save a very 
 little. Thus, the venerable ambassador of God has sunk down into a man- 
 pleasing chatterer." Schriften von Sturz, Th. I. S. 209, 210. 
 
LETTER IX. 
 
 67 
 
 tiexlon with the demonstrable doctrines of the Scriptures, 
 by the ancient theologians and polenfiics. It was only the 
 latter, that I held fast and sought to exhibit in that connex- 
 ion, which they have in the Scriptures, and which binds 
 them firmly together, and renders them a consistent whole. 
 With reason I could reconcile them so much the easier from 
 the fact, that no scholastic system had confused my vision, 
 or robbed me of the freedom of looking about me on every 
 side. From a careful study of all the philosophical sys- 
 tems in existence, I had returned with a decided mistrust 
 in all the speculations of human reason. In every system 
 with which I had made myself acquainted, even the most 
 celebrated, but especially in those which arrogantly laid 
 claim to apodictical certainty, I had discovered so many 
 weak parts, that I deemed it most advisable to declare 
 myself in favor of none of them ; and in philosophy, to 
 adhere to that party which advocates the right of examin- 
 ing every thing. No one will wonder, therefore, that 
 Kant's system, wliich made its appearance about this time 
 with such extensive pretensions to universal authority, pro- 
 duced no change in my thoughts. But a few years pass- 
 ed away, before they were recognized for what they really 
 were, and many who had been fooled by them at first, re- 
 turned back from their error. 
 
 From what 1 have uttered with such frankness, you will 
 draw the conclusion, my dear friend, that the ground upon 
 which I stand with such firmness, is divine revelation ; that 
 my principles, so far as they are determined, are the fun- 
 damental truths of the Gospel. To me, indeed, useful 
 knowledge of every kind, is welcome. To every species 
 of it, I rejoice to accede its relative importance, and that 
 degree of certainty which it does or ought to possess. I 
 am by no means indifferent to the efforts and investigations 
 of philosophizing reason. On the other hand, I have made 
 myself acquainted with them as far as possible. The 
 teachings of the Gospel, however, constitute my criterion 
 for judging of every thing, the grand test, and serve as a 
 leading-string to guide me in the labyrinths of human error. 
 From taking this position, 1 derive more than one advan- 
 tage. In particular, I can extend my knowledge around 
 me on every every side ; for by so doing, I always gain 
 
68 LETTER IX. 
 
 N. 
 
 something for the main object which 1 have in view. That 
 I did w^ell in taking this course, I have been more than 
 once convinced from my own experience. I have met 
 Avith opinions, historical assertions, whole systems, which 
 had the appearance of truth, but which I was obliged to 
 pronounce false, because they contradicted my views of 
 Evangelical truth. Do not suppose, however, that I satis- 
 lied myself with rejecting such things directly off hand. 
 From the very fact that they blinded, I always made it my 
 duty to give them an impartial examination ; and hitherto, 
 I have always come to the result, that they were untenable, 
 and ought to be rejected for other reasons abstracted from 
 the consideration, that they were at variance with the Gos- 
 pel. He who has had this experience often and in mat- 
 ters of importance, will look upon the Gospel more and 
 more as divine truih, and believe it im.possible for him to 
 take a safer course than receive it as such, and regulate 
 his judgment accordingly. 
 
 So then, as you remark, the main point in my convic- 
 tions is a mere faith in authority. I am not an independ- 
 ent thinker, following my own thoughts and standing upon 
 my own feet, but, like a minor, unable, as yet, to judge 
 for himself, I adhere to the authority and declarations of 
 the Scriptures. I have nothing to oppose to what you say, 
 but must accede to its truth. I beg you to examine a lit- 
 tle more closely, however, the position in which I stand, 
 compared with that of the Rationalist. He believes as 
 well as myself. His faith is in the declarations of reason. 
 'To her authority he yields a universal, unconditional obe- 
 dience. My faith is in the Author of reason, because, in 
 the teachings of the Gospel, I recognize divine declarations 
 ^nd revelations. Is this kind of faith less compatible with 
 the dignity of human nature, than the former ?"^ Besides, 
 he, w'ho, while he believes in the Gospel, acquires a know- 
 ledge of the positions which human reason works out of 
 herself, and leaves nothing unexamined, is called upon to 
 go through more investigation and exhibit a higher mea- 
 sure of independence in thinking, than he, who has either 
 
 ♦ '' Licet locus ab auctoritate," says the acute Thomas Aquinas, "quae 
 fundatur super ratioiie humana; sit infirmissimus : locus tamen ab auctoritate, 
 quae fundatur super reuelatione diuina, est efficacissimus. Summ. Theol., 
 Part I. quaest. I. art. 8. 
 
LETTER IX. 69 
 
 made his Rationalistic system for himself, and brought his 
 investigations to a close, or else passes over from one sys- 
 tem to another, and always declares in favor of the last. 
 And finally, that that man will succeed the best as a }Dreach- 
 €r, who founds every thing upon the authority of God, and 
 can always appeal to revelation to prove that he utters the 
 will and express demands of Jehovah, is a matter, my 
 friend, which you must look upon as self-evident. A man 
 produces an entirely different effect when he .speaks in the 
 name of God, from what he does, when he is obliged to 
 appeal merely lo the principles of reason. The great mass 
 of the people, the female sex, and a large proportion of 
 those who pass for lenrned men, can never be made inde- 
 pendent thinkers. Without authority they cannot even 
 stand. And can you name to me any that is better, more 
 exalted, and more generally recognized, than that of the 
 Scriptures, as far as they are considered as the word ot 
 God .^ Do they not justify themselves to such a degree 
 by the extraordinary appeals which ihey make to the hu- 
 man heart, as to leave every other authority incapable of a 
 comparison with them ^^ 
 
 Here, however, I must give you a glance into my heart, 
 which will, perhaps, fill you with great surprise ; but which 
 will completely solve for you the riddle of my unshaken 
 adherence to the Gospel in general, and to the doctrines 
 of our church in particular. To do it in a (ew words; in 
 the relation in which I stand to God, 1 need a Saviour and 
 Mediator, and just such an one as Christ is. After having 
 paid long and close attention to my heart and its real con- 
 dition, as well as to the language of my moral feelings, I 
 find myself totally unable to comprehend, how any one can 
 be bold enough to rely confidently upon his own virtue in 
 the presence of God, or even to expect the Grace of God 
 and the forgiveness of his sins, without having received 
 some express assurance from his Maker to this effect. 
 The natural condition of the human heart appears to me to 
 be so miserable and distracted ; 1 have found every thing 
 
 * [With the above remarks, and ihose on page 62 ff., compare Tzschirner's 
 Bnefe, u. s. w. S. 47 — fi5 3 where he makes some observations resptoiing the 
 hig-h vaunts and promises of Naturphilosophie, its small and unsatisfying per- 
 formances, and the sad effects of introducing it into the pulpit,— observations 
 »'orthj the attentive perusal of all engaged in deep speculations.] 
 
70 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 denominated human virtue so very defective in myself and 
 others, and so far below every thing which God may and 
 must require of his rational creatures ; that I cannot, and 
 never could, see how it is possible for the sinner to be ren- 
 dered worthy and certain of the Grace of God, and be 
 brought into better relations to him, without his help, and 
 a divine contrivance for this particular purpose. That the 
 guilt of sins once committed can never be diminished, 
 much less taken away, by any subsequent reformation, is 
 as clear as the sun. On the other hand, it will only be 
 Tendered so much the greater thereby, inasmuch as the 
 fact, that the man acts differently now, shows that he might 
 have done so before, if he had earnestly desired to. And 
 as to this reformation, however real and thorough, what is 
 it ? O ! 1 appeal to every one possessed of tender, sus- 
 ceptible moral feelings, and acquainted with the qualities 
 of a good action, to tell me, whether it can meet with the 
 approbation of the Supreme and Omniscient Judge. Will 
 the best of men be able to extoll their virtue before him ? 
 Will not all their courage fail when examined in the pre- 
 sence of their Maker ? Will they not be obliged to con- 
 fess, that the very best actions they ever performed, are 
 not only entirely destitute of merit, but in addition thereto, 
 so very defective and so far below every thing which God 
 may and must require, that, instead of expecting complete 
 jusufication, or, perhaps, a reward, they will have to en- 
 treat for connivance and forbearance ? This humiliating 
 feeling of personal unworthiness has not only not been di- 
 minished in me, as I have advanced in goodness, but been 
 rendered stronger and more vivid. Indeed, the defec- 
 tiveness of human virtue must necessarily become more 
 striking, in exact proportion as the moral sensibilities are 
 purified and quickened by the progress of reformation ; for 
 he, who has made advances in goodness, will be more 
 pained at litde faults and impurities, which the unreformed 
 and beginners in virtue, do not even perceive, than the lat- 
 ter are at gross errors. 
 
 Such being the language and character of my moral 
 feelings, it is absolutely necessary to my tranquillity for me 
 to have a declaration from God himself, that he is able and 
 willing to forgive sin, and also a knowledge of the means- 
 
LETTER IX. 7f 
 
 by which this can be done in a way in every respect wor- 
 thy of God, and adapted to the moral nature of man. The 
 divine institution, agreeably to which, through Christ and 
 his death, all sinners who assent to the conditions, can be 
 pardoned, seems to me to unite in itself every thing that 
 can be wished for, in this respect. With it, I cannot my- 
 self dispense ; for, by means of it, though conscious of my 
 sins and imperfections, I have confidence in God, inas- 
 much as it takes away the necessity of my obtaining the 
 favor of God by my own merits, a thing impossible, and 
 authorizes me to expect the love of God in Christ. My 
 joy in God rests upon the assurance, that in hoping and 
 praying, I can appeal, not to personal merit, for of this I 
 have none, but to the merit and mediation of a person 
 whom God has, in the most explicit terms, announced and 
 distinguished, as the one through whom salvation can be 
 conferred upon our race. That a faithful adherence to 
 this supreme and adorable Saviour, is exahing to the mind ; 
 that a close and intimate communion with him, exerts a 
 wonderful influence in purifying the heart and leading one 
 on diligently to make attainments in holiness ; that daily 
 occupation with him, and the inspiring contemplation of 
 his exaltation and his example, prove a blessing to the 
 whole internal man ; and, finally, that he who can say, 
 *' Nevertheless, I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me," 
 has acquired new power, and another and more exalted 
 mode of existence ; — all this, every one who has, from his. 
 whole heart, yielded obedience to the conditions laid down 
 by God, for acceptance in Christ, knows by experience ; 
 and others would not understand me, should I attempt to 
 tell them ever so much about it. 
 
 But enough has been said respecting the orthodox char- 
 acter of my sermons. I rejoice to leave all to their own 
 opinions, and can endure to have every one follow his 
 own convictions, however unlike or opposed they may be, 
 to mine. But from my heart do I wish that others would 
 exhibit the same reasonableness and forbearance towards 
 me, and not rise up in hostility against me, because I teach 
 as my conscience obliges me to do. Let it be remember^ 
 ed, " That every one of us shall give an account of him- 
 self to God." The Lord will judge us all, " But other 
 
72 LETTER X. 
 
 foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus 
 Christ. Now if any man build upon this foundation, gold, 
 silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble ; every man's 
 work shall be made manifest, for the day shall declare 
 it."* Farewell. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 His mode of proceeding in the invention and choice of themes — Need of phi- 
 losopTiy, &c. — Of variety — Common-place-book of subjects — Mode of ex- 
 amining historical texts — Must throw ourselves back into the age — Kinds 
 of knowledge requisite— Illustrations— Aids — Didactic texts— Different 
 kinds of them — Mode of treatment — Illustrations — Must conceive ourselves 
 in the circumstances in which these texts were written. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 I will not deny, that at the close of my last letter, I 
 fell somewhat into a ministerial strain. Pardon this small 
 error. It very naturally resulted from the subject upon 
 which I was writing. I shall guard myself hereafter 
 against every thing of the kind, and confine my whole 
 attention to the form and construction of my sermons. 
 Here you expect me to be particular; and agreeably 
 to the request of your former letter, I will, in the first 
 place, give you an account of my usual mode of proceed- 
 ing in the invention and choice of subjects. 
 
 Of course, you do not here" expect from me a treatise 
 
 1 ( , * [It is delightful to find Christians every where breathing forth the same 
 
 t-'iU.C- . / spirit. However remotely born and differently educated from each other, 
 . ' they evidently become one in Christ Jesus, while others are driven about by 
 ' every wind of doctrine, and seem to have nothing or little, firm and stable. 
 This remark is suggested by the close correspondence of Reinhard's views 
 with those of Prof Stuart and others, in cur own country. See Stuart's Let- 
 ters to the Rev. Wm. E. Channing, in various places, particularly, pp. 112 L 
 149 f. 155 f.] 
 
LETTER X. 73 
 
 upon invention, as it was called by the ancient rhetoricians, 
 or the working out of a text and the several themes de- 
 duced from it, as it is denominated by homiletical writers. 
 I shall not write a book either upon homiletics or rhetoric. 
 All that you wish to know, is, how I have discovered so 
 many themes which others never thought of, and been en- 
 abled to deduce more useful subjects from apparently 
 barren texts, than one could have imagined them to con- 
 tain. I can in a few words describe to you the method I 
 usually pursued, in searching after and making choice of 
 my main positions. 
 
 In the first place I must observe, that without a knowl- 
 edge of philosophy in general, and an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with many parts of it in particular, as psychology 
 and ethics for instance, a man never can succeed very 
 well in the invention of subjects. To deduce any thing 
 useful and attractive from a text, and develop it in an ap- 
 propriate manner, a man must have thought much upon 
 the character of human nature, its excellencies, wants, 
 inclinations and necessities, as well as its duties and rights ; 
 — must have contemplated it in all situations and at 
 every stage of improvement ; — must, with untiring dili- 
 gence, have availed himself of history and experience, 
 and, by these means, have collected together a great treas- 
 ure of valuable materials. He, who is deficient in these 
 respects, — who does not always look upon nature with 
 phifosophical eyes and make it his constant study, should 
 not wonder if he generally fails of obtaining good subjects 
 for his sermons, and, in a text which has been selected for 
 a discourse, finds it impossi^ble to perceive, what, expe- 
 rienced eyes discover at a single glance. 
 
 I have to add, that the necessity I was long under, of 
 preaching upon the same portions of the Gospels, some- 
 times more than once a year, contributed not a little to 
 awaken and quicken in me the spirit of invention.'^ As 
 my sermons were all printed, and my people could easily 
 
 * [The custom of the French preachers alluded to by Dr. Blair (Lecture 
 XXIX,) of taking their texts from the usual lesson of the day, prevails also 
 among the Lutherans of Germany. American ministers being- under no such 
 constraint, much of this letter might perhaps have been omitted. As however 
 it throws some light upon the proper mode of handling texts, it is retained ia 
 
 7 
 
74 LETTER X. 
 
 calculate for me, I was obliged to think of something neW;, 
 as often as 1 returned to the same text, and must admit, | 
 
 that this led me to the discovery of many things which 
 otherwise would probably have escaped me. 
 
 But, in truth, you will say, every minister who has to 
 preach constantly from the same texts, finds himself under 
 the same necessity, and yet every one does not succeed 
 in discovering something new. Here, in the first place, 
 let me tell you of a means of invention which I have often 
 found of very excellent service. I am in the habit of 
 writing down those thoughts which occur to me in reading, 
 regular reflection, or incidentally, and are worthy of being 
 treated of in detail in a sermon, just as they present them- 
 selves to my mind at the moment, without having any par- 
 ticular object in view. If then, at any lime, I meet with 
 difficulty in finding something appropriate in a text 
 upon which I am called to preach, I recur to this cata- 
 logue of interestins: thou2:hts, in order to see whether 
 some of them cannot be made to bear upon the text in 
 question. This often proves to be the case ; and in this 
 way, I have been led to many happy combinations, of 
 which I should otherwise never have thought. 
 
 I should observe, however, that I have never resorted to 
 this method, except when I have found it difficult to obtain 
 any thing useful by reflecting upon the text itself. In 
 general, a text needs only to be rightly understood and 
 properly investigated, in order to furnish more than one 
 useful subject. Permit me to show you the method of 
 examining both historical and didactical texts and work- 
 ing them out, which 1 have found the most advantageous. 
 In handling a historical text, the object of all a man's 
 efforts as I conceive, should be to transfer himself to the 
 historical theatre of action^^and, as vividly as possible, im- 
 agine every thing to be present with all its circumstances, 
 and passing as it were before his eyes. To do this, a man 
 must consider every narration in its connexion with what 
 precedes and succeeds ; must as accurately as possible, 
 conceive of the time and place in which every thing 
 happened ; must examine into the causes and occasions 
 of every event ; must call to mind all the contemporary 
 circumstances and effects which either stand in connexion 
 
LETTER X. * 75 
 
 i 
 
 with what a man has before him, or throw light upon it; 
 and finally, must bring with him the laws of a correct his- 
 torical interpretation, and take every thing in the spirit and 
 sense of the times to which it belongs. 
 
 Now if a man, guided by these general preparatory 
 measures, directs his attention to the acting persons, and 
 looks at the opinions, dispositions, wishes, and necessities 
 they express ; if a man observes the morals and charac- 
 ter thev exhibit ; if a man searches after those impres- 
 sions and results which every word, every assertion, every 
 step of the acting persons, produced ; and finally, if a man 
 looks at the effects which such results may have produced 
 in general and as a whole ; — if a man does all this, it is 
 scarcely possible for him not to arrive at something which 
 deserves to be farther reflected upon, and treated of in 
 
 detail. 
 
 While a man does all this, however, it is equally neces- 
 sary for him not only to form an accurate acquaintance 
 with all the circumstances and wants of his own age and 
 community, but to keep himself, we may say, always full 
 of them. As reflection is ever discovering new subjects 
 "well worthy of close investigation, a man must have some 
 decided reason for prefering one to another. This reason 
 cannot be drawn by a conscientious preacher from the 
 greater ease with which one subject can be treated of, than 
 another ; nor from the desire or inclination which he feels 
 for examining a particular theme. He must carefully se- 
 lect and treat of that subject, which, in view of all the 
 circumstances and well known necessities of his hearers, 
 he considers as the most appropriate, and best calculated to 
 produce useful effects upon their hearts. It is only by so 
 doing, that every sermon can be rendered, as it were, a 
 word spoken in season, a discourse expressly adapted to 
 the occasion, and the preacher be secured against the 
 error of fluttering around common-place topics, and such, 
 as can do his hearers no good. 
 
 Permit me, my dear friend, to illustrate what I have 
 said, by some examples. The Gospel for the seventh 
 Sunday after Trinity, Mark 8. I — 9, cannot be consider- 
 ed as one of the most useful portions of Scripture. From 
 it, however, if treated in the manner I have described, 
 
76 LETTER X. 
 
 many very interesting subjects may be deduced. I will 
 mention only those which I have myself drawn from it 
 and worked out. In the first place, it immediately pre- 
 sents us with some general subjects of a very useful char- 
 acter ; . as for example : God can and will richly bless what 
 is small and insignificant ; see the Sermons of 1796. The 
 virtue of contentment, (the multitude had nothing to eat but 
 barley bread and fishes,) is of far more importance than is 
 ordinarily supposed ; seethe Sermons of 1801. There 
 is always something very wonderful in the manner in which 
 God sustains us; see the Sermons upon Providence, 
 Pred. I. How Christian benevolence should, he practised 
 in times of public want ; see the Sermons of 1805. This 
 subject was suggested by the scarcity then prevalent. 
 
 Now if a man conceives of the vt'hole transaction as 
 passing before him in the manner I have just described, he 
 will be able to deduce from it as naturally as before, sub- 
 jects of equal importance. The whole affair took place 
 in an unmhabited region. This leads us to the reasons, 
 Why Jesus chose to collect his hearers around him in soli- 
 tary regions ; see the Sermons for quickening the moral 
 sensibilities,'^ Pred. XIII. It was a matter of no small dif- 
 ficulty to preserve order among several thousand men some 
 days, in a retired place, without any form of police or civil 
 power. As the Lord evidently maintained this order by 
 the authority he then enjoyed. It shews us in general the 
 silent influence always exerted by the p)resence of virtue 
 upon mankind ; see the Sermons of 1795. Farther, cir- 
 cumstanced as Christ was, in regard to the multitude, he 
 could expect no assistance from any one but himself. His 
 disciples had no advice to give him. This gives rise to 
 the very important consideration, That Christians should in 
 all circumstances depend upon themselves rather than others; 
 see the Sermons of 1797. The dispositions, feelings and 
 designs which had induced this multitude to seek after 
 Jesus, were doubtless very impure. Nevertheless, Jesus 
 treated them with the greatest kindness, and his example 
 in this respect should teach Christians the tenderness with 
 which they ought to regard even imperfect attempts in 
 
 * Zur Scharfuno- des sittlichea Gefiihls. 
 
LETTER X. 77 
 
 goodness ; see the Sermons of 1800. That many disa- 
 greeable consequences would have resulted from Christ's 
 neglectins; to remedy the wants into which the people had 
 brought themselves, by imprudently tarrying in a place in 
 which no sustenance was to be had, is perfectly evident. 
 At the foundation we must be constantly sustained by the 
 providence of God, and this forces upon us the reflection, 
 Hoiv miserahle should we be, if God did not continually 
 deliver us from the effects of our own improvidence ; see 
 the Sermons of 1799. The Lord, on this .occasion, sat- 
 isfied both corporeal and intellectual wants. This leads us 
 to The connexion ivhich God has instituted between the ne- 
 cessity of sustaining the body by nourishment, and the for- 
 mation and improvement of the mind ; see the Sermons of 
 1802. It is evident that the apostles, notwithstanding 
 their embarrassment, did not request Christ to exert his 
 miraculous power. Hence, it is highly deserving our at- 
 tention, that the apostles 7iever required miracles of their 
 Lord ; see the Sermons of 1803. The people by their 
 anxiety to enjoy the intercourse and instruction of Jesus, 
 were brought into the danger of suffering the greatest 
 want, from which, however, they'were happily saved; and 
 so also, there are times which we may devote to appropri- 
 ate and pious exercises without suffering any temporal dis^ 
 advantage: seethe Sermons of 1808. The Lord kept 
 the people by him for three days, and finally ended his 
 instructions not only at the right time, but in the best man- 
 ner. From him, therefore, we should learn, that much de- 
 pends upon our knowing how to end every good action in 
 a right manner ; see the Sermons published at Wittem- 
 berg, Th. U. Pred. X. 
 
 When the Gospel for the twelfth Sunday after Trinity, 
 comes up, Mark 7 :31 — 37, the minister usually expends 
 all his zeal upon the last words : " He hath done all things 
 well," transforming them into a common-place topic, though 
 they are far from constituting one, and making them intro- 
 duce various remarks respecting the beneficent goodness of 
 God and Jesus Christ. He, however, who, by the means 
 above recommended, throws himself into the circumstances 
 jelated by the Evangelist, will find many other things in 
 ihem to consider. The history itself will immediately 
 
 *7 
 
78 LETTER X. , 
 
 lead liim to reflect upon the fate of those unfortunate per^ 
 sons, to whom nature has given defective bodies. See the 
 Sermons of ISO I. The unfortunate person who was 
 brought to Christ could neither hear nor speak. This 
 leads us to the general subjecis : How Christians should 
 regard the faculty of speech ; see the Sermons of 1805 5 
 and a true Christian disposition must he exhibited in con- 
 versation ; see the Sermons of 1797. It was misappre- 
 hension which led the people to blaze abroad the miracles 
 of Jesus, in direct opposition to his command. This fur- 
 nishes an occasion for describing Christian conduct in re- 
 gard to the misapprehensions of common life. This theme 
 I handled in a sermon delivered in 1792, but not yet print- 
 ed. In 1794, I spoke from this same passage respecting 
 the different impressions which our good actions usually 
 make upon others, a subject suggested by the effects of 
 Christ's miracle upon the multitude. This sermon is not 
 printed. The Lord did not wish to have the miracle which 
 he performed, spread abroad. Christians should also do 
 good with a zeal ivhich operates in silence ; see the Ser- 
 mons of 1796, It is very apparent, that Jesus conducted 
 very differently in concealing this miracle, from what he 
 did, when he performed his wonders by a word of his power. 
 His conduct, therefore, in healing this deaf-mute, merits 
 special attention; see the Sermons of 1804. In partic- 
 ular, the Lord employed more ceremonies in this case, 
 than he had done in others. This leads us to the duty of 
 imparting a certain degree of solemnity to many of our ac- 
 tions ; see the Sermons published at Wittemberg, Th. II. 
 Pred. XIII. If now we reflect upon what is said at the 
 beginning of the passage, that Jesus had returned from 
 another region, into which he had been driven by the 
 hatred of the Jewish officers at Jerusalem, and hence, was 
 obliged to avoid exciting any thing like curiosity, we shall 
 not only immediately discover the reason why, in this case, 
 he so earnestly interdicted the publication of his miracle, 
 but be astonished at his zeal to do good to his people, 
 which, notwithstanding the ingratitude of his fellow-citizens, 
 broke forth again, as soon as he returned. This gives oc- 
 casion for exhibiting the perseverance with which Jesus did 
 good ; see the Sermons of 1808. 
 
LETTER X. 
 
 79 
 
 Among all the historical portions of the Gospels, how- 
 ever, upon which one is ordinarily obliged to preach, there 
 is none shorter, more barren, and less adapted to the day 
 on which it must be explained, than the text for new year's 
 day, Luke 2:21. One would suppose, that without in- 
 dulging in considerations in nowise connected with the 
 text, he would be greatly troubled to find any thing in it 
 edifying and appropriate to speak from, only a few times ; 
 especially so, as what is said, is to be adapted to the begin- 
 ning of tiie year. Permit me, therefore, my dear friend, 
 to show you the usefulness of my mode of invention as 
 above described, by applying it to this text, and thence 
 deducing a series of themes which I have worked out. I 
 will bring them forward in the order in which the sermons 
 written from them, were delivered. 
 
 As circumcision completed Christ's entrance into life, and 
 marked his entrance upon his civil and ecclesiastical re- 
 lations, so at Wittemberg, in 1785, I spoke from the posi- 
 tion : Reflections upon our entrance into life, constitute a 
 useful preparation for our entrance upon a new year ; see 
 the Sermons printed at Wittemberg, Th. I. Pred. I. Jesus, 
 having, by means of circumcision, been brought into con- 
 nexion with the ecclesiastical community of his nation, 
 submitted to very weighty duties and obligations. Ac- 
 cordingly, in 1793, I showed, Hoiv, as we enter upon a 
 new year, ive should recollect, that by multiplying our con- 
 nexions, we multiply our sorrows. This sermon is not 
 printed. As the reception of Jesus into the community of 
 the Jewish Church, was attended with great advantages, so 
 the following year, I explained the position. On entering 
 upon a new year, we should think of the good, God accom- 
 plishes for us, by means of human society. This sermon 
 is not printed. In the very morning of life, Jesus found 
 that he had been consecrated by circumcision to the cove- 
 nant of God. This gave occasion, in the year 1795, for 
 showing, How the morning of a new year should be conse- 
 crated by a grateful recollection of the benefits conferred 
 upon us by God, in the morning of life. Only eight days 
 after his birth, Jesus felt the important influence of time, 
 became a member of the Jewish nation, and thus obtained 
 a particular direction for his education and his destiny. 
 
80 LETTER X, 
 
 t 
 
 This led me, in the year 1796, to the rich position, that 
 we are the children of time, under the guidance of God, 
 Jesus, on being circumcised, received his name. This 
 thought very naturally gave rise to the position, that we 
 shall spend this year the best, if we esteem our v.ame of as 
 much importance, as true Christians should. This theme 
 was treated of, in the year 1797. Circumcision marked 
 the reception of a person into the bosom of the Israelitish 
 church. This, in 1793, furnished an occasion /o?- remind- 
 ing Christians of their reception into the bosom of Chris fs 
 Church. From the unwavering faith, with which, in joy- 
 ful hope, the mother of Jesus, notwithstanding her severe 
 poverty and sufferings, rested upon what had been told her 
 at the very outset, by the angel, respecting her son, occa- 
 sion was taken, in 1799, to describe the victory of hope 
 over suffering, and to apply the ichole to entering upon a 
 new year. The year 1800, closed the century. Now, as 
 the birth and circumcision of Jesus closed the preceding 
 age of the world, and commenced a new one, entirely 
 different from the former, so, from the peculiarities which 
 Jesus imparted to his century, occasion was taken to show, 
 How, by a serious retrospection of the pecidiarities of the 
 departed century, we should prepare for the last year of it. 
 The following year commenced the new century. The 
 painful, and, in respect to the life and preservation of a 
 new-born infant, critical change, through which Jesus was 
 called to pass, when only eight days old, and by which he 
 was immediately bound to the performance of very weighty 
 duties, furnished an opportunity /or exhortations to Chris- 
 tian earnestness in entering upon a new century. At the 
 beginning of the year 1802, the circumstance, that much 
 of great importance happened to Jesus during the first 
 eight days of his life, and time, as it were, hurried away 
 with him, was taken up ; and hence, the fleetness of time 
 was made the subject of consideration. It was, indeed, a 
 painful, but a benevolent duty, which subjected a child, 
 born of Jewish parents, to circumcision, when eight days 
 old. From this was drawn the position, Hoiv much rea- 
 son have ive, on entering a new year, to bless the constraints 
 of duty. The low circumstances in which Jesus found 
 liimself at the time of his circumcision, and the laborious 
 
 f 
 
LETTER X. - 81 
 
 duties heaped upon him, by means of this ordinance, led, 
 in 1805, to a consideration of the serious aspect which this 
 life presents to every unconstrained observer. By means 
 of circumcision, Jesus was introduced into relations entire- 
 ly new, and, in his circumstances, unavoidable. The in- 
 habitants of Saxony also found themselves, at the com- 
 mencement of 1807, introduced into new relations by 
 means of an important and encouraging peace, which had 
 been concluded on the last week of the preceding year. 
 Serious reflections upon the new and unavoidable relations 
 into ivhich the new year had introduced W5, therefore, seem' 
 ed to be the most suitable to the circumstances of the occa- 
 sion, though all reference to particular political relations, 
 was avoided, as improper. And, finally, from the fact, 
 that he who was circumcised, had a course of life before 
 him full of painful duties, and needed much resoluteness to 
 perform them, occasion was taken, in the year 1808, to 
 speak of the presence of mind with which ive should meet 
 the future. 
 
 You will observe, my dear friend, that, to discover these 
 subjects, nothing farther was necessary, than to transfer 
 myself, as much as possible, to the circumstances describ- 
 ed in the text, and thus contemplate them in their whole 
 connexion, and all their bearings upon the person and fate 
 of Jesus ; and, at the same time, with a steady reference 
 to the new year, and the existing wants of my hearers. 
 Now, he who proceeds in this way, whenever a historical 
 text comes up ; — who, if I may so speak, knows well how 
 to find his position in two different worlds, that of his text 
 and his own, will always succeed in discovering interest- 
 ing themes. To such a man something will always pre- 
 sent itself, which harmonizes equally well with his text and 
 the necessities of his hearers. 
 
 With this, a man, who would throw himself, as he ought 
 to do, into all the circumstances of every event, and reflect 
 upon them with success, must also connect a diligent study 
 of Biblical history in general, and of Evangelical history 
 in particular. A frequent and connected reading of the 
 Evangelists, a careful comparison of their accounts, an 
 accurate knowledge of the geography and natural history 
 oi Palestine, and an intimate acquaintance with the cir- 
 
82 LETTER X. 
 
 cumstances and affairs of the age to which the whole 
 Evangelical history helongs, can hardly fail to lead a man 
 to rich views and suhjects ; especially, if, at the same time, 
 he calls to his aid such works as treat of Evangelical his- 
 tory in general, or of particular parts of it, with acuteness 
 and happy effect. Among the ancient writers, there is 
 none, in my opinion, more deserving of recommendation 
 in this respect, than Chrysostom. His homilies upon the 
 Gospels contain many excellent views and important hints, 
 which are expressly adapted to lead a man on to farther 
 reflection. Among modern writers, no one has made bet- 
 ter preparation for the minister who wishes for interesting 
 remarks upon Evangelical history, than Hess,^ upon it, in 
 his well known work. In exhibiting the connexion, the 
 full purpose, the rich instruction, and the impressiveness 
 and dignity of this history, he evinces an altogether pecu- 
 liar tact, which guides him with uncommon success, and 
 often enables him to make the most important discoveries 
 in the smallest circumstances. The Commentary of Pau- 
 lus upon the Gospels, also exhibits many interesting views 
 and combinations, but they are so interwoven and obscur- 
 ed with a multitude of constrained and improbable supposi- 
 tions, as to be undiscoverable without a great deal of labor. 
 And now, as to didactical texts. The matter to be treat- 
 ed of in handling such texts, whether theoretical or prac- 
 tical, is sometimes in such a form and of such a char- 
 acter, as to leave a man no choice, but to force itself upon 
 him as the principal subject of his discourse, if he v^ould 
 not direcdy contradict the text itself. In this case, every 
 thing, as 1 think, depends upon, whether all that is requi- 
 site for a fundamental treatment of this given subject, is 
 furnished in the text, and can be deduced, from it, without 
 feebleness or constraint. If so, a man must confine him- 
 self to the text, and, by a natural or free analysis, draw 
 every thing from it. In this way, he will gain from the 
 ease Vvith which every thing is comprehended and im- 
 pressed upon the memory, and the manner in which the 
 hearers are introduced to the Scriptures and led profitably 
 to read them and reflect upon them. If not, a man should 
 bring his subject as far as possible in connexion with th© 
 
 * [Ueber die Lehren, Thalen und Schicksale unsers Herrn.] 
 
1 LETTER X. 83 
 
 words of the text, and then supply all deficiences from his 
 own meditations. The sermon delivered on the first fast 
 of the year 1809, is an example of the first kind. The 
 subject of it as well as all the subdivisions, being drawn from 
 the text itself. The sermon which was prepared for the 
 second fast in 1808, and '.reats upon hkewarmness in reli- 
 gion, is an example of We second. Every thing belong- 
 ing to the subject itself could not be drawn from the text, 
 but it could be easily supplied and brought in contact with 
 it. Tliere is also a case, in which the subject is so pre- 
 scribed as not to permit the selection of another which is 
 appropriate, especially when the texts are short and com- 
 posed of a few words or verses. More extended didacti- 
 cal texts admit of a greater range in the mode of treat- 
 ment. I pass on therefore to their consideration. 
 
 It is well knowa, that most of the lessons taken from 
 the epistles, constitute such copious didactical texts. There 
 are however, even among them, two classes of texts, to 
 be distinguished from each other ; such as are wholly de- 
 voted to a single subject, and such as comprise several. 
 To the first class for instance, belong the epistle for the 
 Sunday Esto mihi, 1 Cor. 13, in which the excellencies 
 of Christian charity are extolled, and the epistle for 
 the eleventli Sunday after Trinity, 1 Cor. 15: 1 — 10, 
 which treats altogether of the resurrection of Christ. Jn 
 handling such texts, if a man prefers not to select a single 
 circumstance, and, omiting all the rest, enlarge upon it 
 from his own meditations, (a mode of sermonizing which 
 greatly facilitates the minister's progress, but prevents 
 him from doing ample justice to his text,) he must ad- 
 here firmly to the main contents of the text, and carry 
 out the given subject in a natural, or a free analysis. 
 The method of doing this, agreeably to the natural order 
 of the text, may be seen, by consulting a sermon upon a 
 text taken from one of the epistles and delivered in 1806, 
 on the Sunday Esto mihi. The epistle for the eleventh 
 Sunday after Trinity, on the other hand, must, if one wish- 
 es to explain the principal thought it contains, the impor- 
 tance of the resurrection of Jesus, he subjected to a free 
 analysis ; a process, which is illustrated by a sermon de- 
 livered this same year, upon this portion of Scripture. 
 
84 LETTER X. 
 
 The minister, however, has to contend with far more dif- 
 ficuhies, in handling those didactical texts which contain as 
 it were a collection of subjects which do not properly be- 
 long together. Most of the sermons upon texts selected 
 from the episdes, will show any man who examines them, 
 the advantages to be derived from selecting one of the 
 subjects contained in such a text and neglecting all the 
 rest. This class of texts is commonly treated of agreea- 
 bly to this very easy method. If however a man wishes 
 to do more justice to his text and employ it in its whole 
 extent, he must endeavor to obtain a general head under 
 which all the particulars of it can be conveniently arrang- 
 ed in an easy and agreeable connexion. The mode 
 of doing this, I have endeavored to show, in a sermon 
 upon a text taken from one of the epistles and deliv- 
 ered in the year 1806. As this manner of handling 
 texts taken from the episdes, has been well treated, and ju- 
 diciously and acutely explained, especially by the Rev. 
 Mr. Nebe, the only fault with whose essay upon the sub- 
 ject I have to find, is, his extravagant praise of myself,* 
 you will permit me, my friend, to confine myself to a very 
 few remarks. 
 
 Many a text which appears very barren in itself consid- 
 ed, is rendered very rich and productive, as soon as it is 
 connected with a general subject, drawn from an extended 
 view of it and the connexion in which it stands. I have 
 handled the difficult episde for the Sunday of Laetare^ 
 Gal. 4 : 21 — 31, in this way; and it is evident at first 
 glance, that the principal subject of my discourse is per- 
 fectly agreeable to the text, and yet sufficiently interesting, 
 to be treated of in detail. 
 
 What I said a litde back, respecting the necessity of 
 transferring one's self to the circumstances of time and 
 place connected with the text, and conceiving them to be 
 passing before his eyes, in order to obtain correct views re- 
 specting it, is also true with regard to didactical texts. If 
 for instance, a man is able to imagine all the circumstances 
 present under which an apostle wrote a text, taken from 
 
 * This essay is to be found in the third part of the 25lh volume of the Neues. 
 Journal far Prediger, S. 257 ff. 
 
LETTER X. 85 
 
 one of his epistles, it will be easy for him to discover the 
 general truth to which the particular event narrated, belongs; 
 and by abstracting this truth from it, he will be able to make 
 a profitable use of the various parts and representations of 
 the text. The Sermon delivered on the eleventh Sunday 
 after Trinity, from the Epistle 1 Ccr. 9 : 6 — 13, affords 
 the best illustration of this point. 
 
 This lively conceiving of the circumstances to be present, 
 under which the apostles wrote their letters and sent them 
 to the churches, is also adapted to lead a man to general 
 ideas under which to arrange and connect together in an 
 appropriate manner, all the various contents of a text. 
 The twelfth chapter of the epistle of Paul to the Chris- 
 tians at Rome, is well known to be divided into three les- 
 sons, which must be explained on the first, second, and 
 third Sunday after the feast of Epiphany. At the first 
 glance, this chapter appears to contain a multitude of ad- 
 monitions and moral precepts having but little connexion 
 with each other, and that, altogether of an incidental char- 
 acter. If however a man imagines himself altogether in 
 the condition of the apostle ; if he asks, why the apostle 
 made exactly these suggestions and admonitions and no 
 others ; if he only endeavors to ascertain, whether they 
 had reference to the condiiion of Christians in that place 
 and their relations to the other parts of the world, it will 
 soon be made to appear, that the object which the apostle 
 had before him, was, the peculiar and decided character 
 which the Gospel gave to those who embraced it ; thus 
 rendering them the choicest men of the age. [{ any one 
 comprehends this general idea, he will discover the order 
 and connexion which prevails, at a single glance. He will 
 perceive, that in the first lesson. Christians are distinguish- 
 ed from the rest of the world by being members of a 
 church; in the second, by their noble personality ; and in 
 the third, by their excellencies. 
 
 But enough, upon this subject. I must ask your par- 
 don, my dear friend, for having entered into such a de- 
 tailed explanation of my usual manner of inventing themes. 
 Had you known how talkative I should be upon this sub- 
 ject, you would scarcely have mentioned it. If however, 
 8 
 
86 LETTER XI. 
 
 » 
 
 I have said any thing which will be of use to young min- 
 isters, I am certain before hand of your indulgence. 
 Farewell. 
 
 -f 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 Manv object to the logical arrang-ement of sermons — Answered — The ar- 
 rangement should not be concealed — Points out faulty arrangements in his;^ 
 sermons — Warns 3'oung preachers against too great attention to arrange- 
 ment — Against uniformity of arrangement. 
 
 My Dear Friend — * ^ 
 
 You are right in expecting me now to give you a more 
 extensive account of the arrangement and construction of 
 my sermons. 
 
 I have already told you how I was led to the habit of 
 planning my sermons with great strictness and precision^ 
 according to the rules of logic. This close and sometimes 
 almost painful adherence to order and arrangement, from 
 the manner in which my intellectual powers were formed 
 and developed, became to me, as you will observe, like a 
 second nature. The perverseness of my memory, of 
 which I have already spoken, rendered it very difficult for 
 me to get words and phrases by heart, or any thii g but a 
 strictly connected and methodically arranged series of 
 thoughts. I was obliged, therefore, as a matter of necessi- 
 ty entirely independent of my will, to pay attention to or- 
 der. And finally, having, as I told you above, after many 
 years of experience, found it of great utility for a man to 
 make his hearers acquainted with the several principal 
 steps by which his discourse advances, I am convinced, 
 that upon the whole it is necessary and beneficial for him, 
 to give every sermon a logical arrangement and a firmly 
 
LETTER XI. 
 
 87 
 
 connected and easily remembered plan, in order that thus, 
 attentive hearers may know distinctly of what the discourse 
 treats, and be able to give an account of it after it is de- 
 livered. 
 
 I am well aware, that objections have been made to this 
 manner of sermonizing, Many preachers who would fain 
 be looked upon as great orators, are of the opinion, that 
 it is at variance with the laws of eloquence, to bind one's 
 self in logical fetters, and altogether incompatible with that 
 free soaring of thought, that fiery vehemence, with which 
 the orator must express himself. I have only to reply, 
 that strict order in a discourse is not only consistent with 
 the idea of genuine eloquence which I drew from the an- 
 cients and stated above, but absolutely indispensable to it. 
 Have not those gentlemen then, who would fain be consid- 
 ered as Demoslheneses and Ciceros in the pulpit, (for I take 
 it inr granted that they have made themselves familiar 
 with these wonderful men and read their works for them- 
 selves.) attentively observed with what accuracy, art, and 
 constant reference to the specific object before them, they 
 arranged their discourses, and, by disposing of the several 
 parts agreeably to their relative importance, endeavored, 
 by the happiest means, to render them useful and produc- 
 tive of the intended effect ? Of the particular rules for 
 arrangement laid down by all rhetoricians, and the earnest- 
 ness with which attention to order is recommended, 1 will 
 here say nothing. In general, however, people are ac- 
 quainted with the so called fiery and overpowering elo- 
 quence of the ancients, only by hearsay ; and hence, they 
 confound if'' with the irregular, half-poetical, and chatter- 
 ing declamations of the luovldbe orators of modern limes, 
 which rush as it were from one thing to another, and would 
 cease to be overpowering, that is, puzzling, if reduced to 
 logical order. And who, let me ask, among modern ora- 
 tors, has paid stricter and more carefid attention to order, 
 than the most celebrated preach.ers, as Saurin, Bourda- 
 loue, Massillon, Blair, for instance, and others; and yet 
 no one accuses these men of being destitute of vehemence 
 and strength. Whether we look therefore to the nature 
 of the case or to the best examples of every age, it is as 
 clear as the sun, that the rides of oratory not only permit 
 
88 LETTER XI, 
 
 an accurate arrangement of what a man has to say, but 
 absolutely demand it. 
 
 But a sermon, continues one, should not consist of dry i 
 
 T 
 
 if 
 
 speculation, or cold instruction for the intellect. Whatev 
 er a man says in the church should excite and cherish re- 
 ligious feeling, — should operate upon tl)e heart and awak- 
 en pious emotions, — should exalt the hearers above the 
 affairs of time and sense, and fill them with a holy ardor for 
 what is divine, and eternal. Now, what is less adapted to 
 effect this great object, than a scholastic declamation care- 
 fully cut out and arranged according to the rules of art } 
 
 In reply to this, in the first place, it may be observed, 
 that to impart instruction has at all times and with justice, ^ 
 
 been looked upon, as the principal object of preaching; 
 and iience, the preacher has been called the teacher of 
 the Gospel. He who banishes instruction frooj the pulpit 
 and attempts to reduce every thing to the excitement of 
 emotion, robs the ministerial office of a great part of its 
 usefulness, and deprives the great mass of the people of 
 almost every opportunity for the enlargement and correc- 
 tion of their religious knowledge. Moreover, I must abso- 
 lutely deny the possibility of a man's exciting religious 
 feeling and rendering' it salutary and productive of exalted 
 effects, otherwise than by commencing with convincing in- 
 struction and taking the way through the intellect to the 
 heart. All his efforts to raise emotion by operating upon 
 the imagination, will result in inflaming it and enkindling 
 a wild-fire, which can prove of no advantage to genuine 
 piety, and may positively injure it. A religious emotion, to 
 be salutary and improving, and in a rational and profitable 
 manner effect the exaltation of the mind, must be founded 
 upon a lively perception of important truths vividly repre- 
 sented. Indeed, it is impossible to conceive of adiscourse^ 
 which shall in reality take hold of, awaken and inspire the 
 man, and prepare the way for, and raise, the emotions of 
 the heart, without instruction. Now as this instruction 
 will produce the most effect, if delivered with clearness 
 and proper arrangement, it is itupossible to see why strict 
 method should not be combined with the object of affect- 
 ing the heart. 
 
 While you are meditating upon a subject, then, some 
 
LETTER XI. 89 
 
 one wiil say, let every thing be arranged in its proper 
 place ; but when you come to write it out and dress up 
 this skeleton with skin and flesh, carefully conceal the va- 
 rious parts from the audience addressed, and then, their 
 eyes will not discover a skeleton without spirit and life. 
 
 Let me tarry a while at the image which lies at the foun- 
 dation of this remfirk. Nature does, indeed, cover up the 
 bony fabric of a beautiful body with tender parts of vari- 
 ous kinds, and thereby impart to it those powerful charms 
 by which it allures the beholder ; but does she, in so doing, 
 reduce it to a mass of flesh, and make it impossible fur us 
 any longer to distinguish its single parts and members, dis- 
 cover their relation to each other, or point out their joints? 
 On the other hand, is not this bony fabric, which constitutes 
 the firm basis of the whole, so completely visible, that one 
 can raadily see where each member begins and ends, and 
 how they are all connected together; and is it not this ap- 
 propriaie and natural compactness and these regular pro- 
 portions, which render a beautiful form so pleasing? Now, 
 to continue the image employed, a discourse, the whole 
 organization, and the skeleton of whose thoughts are con- 
 cealed by the manner in which it is written out, and the 
 language in which it is clothed, will not constitute a beau- 
 tiful body, full of life and motion, but can be looked upon, 
 as nothing more than an unformed and helpless mass of 
 flesh, which cannot be made into any thing, or be reckon- 
 ed among any known class of forms. This, indeed, is 
 the impression wljich such discourses ordinarily leave be- 
 hind them. One who listens to them, hears much that is 
 beautiful, but he cannot tell definitely in what it consists, 
 and is unable to reduce It to any clear and distinct shape. 
 I cannot persuade myself that such discourses ever accom- 
 plish any good. 
 
 Pardon my prolixity, my dear friend, in speaking of 
 this subject. You agree with me, in the opinion, that 
 every good sermon must be founded upon a correct, close, 
 logical connexion, and have often told me that you were 
 highly pleased with the particularity with which my ser- 
 mons are generally composed, in this respect. I feel my- 
 self, however, under so much the greater obligations, not 
 only honestly to point out some errors into which 1 have 
 *8 
 
90 LETTER XI. 
 
 fallen in regard to arrangement, but expressly to guard 
 young ministers against them. 
 
 Far oflener than I could wish, the fundamental divisions 
 of my sermons are such as can in no wise be justified by 
 the rules of logic ; or, to express myself more correctly, 
 instead of dividing the theme itself, 1 have often arbitrarily 
 connected with it, positions which it did not contain. The 
 subject of the sixth sermon, for instance, of the first part 
 of the sermons published at Wittemberg, is the following : 
 How shall a man conduct, when, in his religions inquiries, 
 he is led to strange opinions^ Now, the first division 
 contains considerations respecting the nature and charac- 
 ter of strange opinions, and the second shows how a man 
 should conduct himself, when he is led to such opinions. 
 Now, it is evident, at first glance, that this is not a division 
 of the subject, because the pretended second division com- 
 prehends the whole theme, in which the first is not con- 
 tained. In order to comprehend these tvVo divisions, the 
 theme should have been expressed in more general terms. 
 If, for instance, the discourse had been. Respecting opin- 
 iom'in general which have something strange in them, then, 
 the first division would properly have been employed in 
 explaining their nature and character, and the second, in 
 treating of them, and giving them a critical examination. 
 The twelfth sermon of the same volume, is headed : Warn- 
 ings against false conscientiousness, and has three divi- 
 sions ; [he first explains the nature of this error ; the second, 
 its signs and effects ; and the third gives the reasons why 
 it should be avoided. In this case, the two first divisions 
 are not contained in tlie theme, according to which, I was 
 merely to bring forward warnings against this error, while 
 the third is the theme itself. Had the theme been ex- 
 pressed thus : Respecting false conscientiousness, then the 
 three preceding dividons would have sustained a proper 
 relation to it ; and I should have had to consider the na- 
 ture of false conscientiousness, its characteristics, and its 
 injurious effects. The third sermon for the year 1798, 
 treats of the following subject: From the unexpected dis- 
 covery of good qualities in others, we should draw nourish- 
 n.ent f(>r our own philanthropy. As this position is a the- 
 orem which required proof, it was incapable of division^ 
 
LETTER XI. 91 
 
 land ••admitted of nothing more than an enumeration of the 
 reasons brought forward in its support. I have divided it, 
 however, and, contrary to all the rules of logic, in the first 
 division^ given illustrations of the unexpected discovery of 
 good qualities in others, of which, however, there is no in- 
 timation in the theme itself; and, in the second^ done the 
 only thing that ought to have been done, brought forward 
 reasons in proof of the main position. To adduce one 
 more example: The eighth sermon of the second volume 
 of the sermons published at Wittemberg, treats of the po- 
 sition : Of what importance should ive deem the thought, 
 that eternity constitutes the exterior hound of every thing 
 unstable. In dividing it, 1 enter into an examination of 
 the meaning, truth, and importance of this position. This, 
 however, is not a logical division, for ihe first and second 
 heads are not contained in the theme, while the third con- 
 stitutes the theme itself. It would have been no more 
 than tolerable, had the theme expressed nothing but the 
 thought in general, without any reference to its importance. 
 The examples now brought forward will be sufficient to 
 designate the error I had in view. In them, as every one 
 will see, I have so obviously contradicted the rules of logic 
 in my divisions, as to be incapable of excuse. That one 
 should occasionally fall into this error, in spite of effort to 
 the contrary, is to be expected ; but I have fallen into it 
 so often, that I am ashamed of it. Any one who wishes 
 for more instances of the same kind, may examine the 
 second sermon of the second volume of the sermons pub- 
 lished at Wittemberg. the seventh of the sermons of 1797, 
 the sixth and the thirty-seventh of those of the year 1798, 
 and the forty-third of the y#ar 1799. Such being my 
 faults in this respect, I feel under so much the greater ob- 
 ligations to guard others against them. 
 
 Another fault exhibited in many of my sermons, is far 
 too anxious an effort to divide them perfectly methodical- 
 ly, and connect all their parts closely together. From one 
 of my preceding letters, you have already learned, my dear 
 friend, how I came by this stiff, scholastic habit, and why 
 I have retained it so long.* I cannot, by any means, re- 
 commend it for imitation ; in part, because such laborious 
 
 • See letter eighth. 
 
92 LETTER XI. 
 
 I 
 
 preparations ere not necessary for accomplishing the Aiakl 
 object of preaching, and in part, and especially, because it 
 may be productive of evil, in case a man has to do with j 
 
 common hearers, who are unpractised in thinking. Ex- 
 amples of this too great particularity in defining and classi- 
 fying, are to he met with especially in my old sermons; 
 in those which I have written of late years, 1 have endeav- 
 ored to avoid it, without, I hope, running into the error of 
 handling the subjects which came up, in a less thorough 
 manner. Even here, also, for the sake of clearness, it will 
 be necessary for me to illustrate what 1 mean, by a few 
 examples. Compare, therefore, the fourth sermon of the ^ 
 first volume of the sermons published at Wittemberg, 
 which treats of Power to control the imagination ; the first 
 division of which resembles a regularly composed and 
 methodically divided fragment of a treatise upon psychol- 
 ogy. The same remark holds true of {he first division of 
 the seventh sermon of the same volume ; ibr of what use 
 are all those illustrations respecting the nature, classes, and 
 origin, of pious emotions? As every body knows what is 
 meant by pious emotions in general, could not every thing 
 necessary have been said in a few W(irds or periods? In 
 the eleventh sennon of the second volume, the explana- 
 tion given of the manner in which God exh.ibits the inter- 
 nal worth of creatures by external signs, is far too circum- 
 stantial and scholastic, and all who read it, will directly feel, 
 that every thing upon this part of the subject, inight have 
 been said in fewer words, and far more natural language, 
 without doing any injury to the thoroughness of the view. 
 In the first Whitsuntide sermon of the year 1798, which 
 treats of spii-itual experience, in the^r^^ part, far too much, 
 and not altogether appropriate effort is made, by way of 
 preparation, in what is said with such detail respecting 
 general and moral experience, inasmuch as the idea of 
 spiritual experience would have had sufficient clearness, 
 without all these introductory explanations. The twenty- 
 seventh sermon of 1799 has not only the error formerly 
 alluded to, of not being logically and correctly divided, but 
 in the first |)art, is burdened with illustrations of such ideas 
 as are generally known, and should have been only briefly 
 touched. That in writing out a sermon, every grand idea 
 
LETTER XI. 
 
 93 
 
 should be rendered clear by correct definitions, is perfect- 
 ly evident ; otherwise, a man will not master his snbject, 
 and speak it. with the requisite application. But this logi- 
 cal and preparatory labor does not belong to the sermon 
 itself, in wliicli every thing must be intelligibly represent- 
 ed, without any pedantic analysis of the subject. Young 
 preachers should be warned to guard so much the more 
 against this error, from the fact, that a man plenses him- 
 self in the thing, from the appearance which it o;ives hioi 
 of philosophical acuteness, and the opinion in which he in- 
 dulges, that it will increase his authority.* 
 
 Finally, I cannot deny, that far too much uniformity 
 prevails in the arrangement or division of my sermons ; an 
 objection which has already, at different times, been made 
 against them. This uniformity originated, in part, in the 
 nature of the thing. A large proportion of subjects must 
 be divided alike, if treated in the best and most natural 
 manner; and a man will fall into artificialness, or fail to 
 do them justice, if he divides them in any other way. The 
 nature of the case, for example, requires a man, in every 
 good sermon he preaches, to instruct the intellect with re- 
 ference to every thing upon which he speaks, and then ap- 
 ply the whole to the improvement of the heart and life ; or, 
 which is the same thing, the first part should be theoreti- 
 cal, the second practical. It is impossible, therefore, to 
 avoid the frequent recurrence of this mode of dividing a 
 sermon, and hence, it cannot be blamed. The same is 
 likewise true of certain trichotomies which are too natural 
 not to be often employed. It is very natural for him who 
 has to speak upon an interesting subject, to explain, prove, 
 and apply. He who treats of an important duty, must, in 
 like manner, explain it, and prove it, and lead the way to 
 its practice. He who recommends a virtue, must give a 
 clear notion of it, speak of its importance, and show by 
 what exercises one can make it his own, he. In such 
 cases, the principal divisions are, in a manner, already 
 given, and in handling such subjects, a man injures them 
 rather than otherwise, if he attempts to divide them in any 
 other manner. 
 
 * Hence, Greiling is perfectly correct, in warning ministers against a blind 
 imitation of my sermons in this respect. Tbeorie der Popularitat, S. 113 and 
 
94 LETTER XI. 
 
 I will not, by any means, deny, however, that the divis" 
 ions and plans of my sermons are frequently uniform, when 
 there was room for choice in the arrangement ; and hence, 
 when the train of thought would have admitted of greater 
 variety. This was not only correctly remarked upon some 
 years since, by the Rev. Mr. Linde, the author of the in- 
 structive work entitled : " Reinhard and Ammon, or par- 
 allel sermons as a contribution to Homiletics, particular- 
 ly to arrangement and composition,"^ but on p. 79 ff., ac- 
 companied with many interesting reflections, of quite an 
 indulgent character as regards myself. This uniformity in 
 arrangement is well foimdejd, if it originates in a kind of 
 inclination for symmetry, which exerted so much the more 
 influence upon myself, from the fact that it proved so ad- 
 vantageous to my memory, enabling me e;isi!y to call to 
 mind those parts which were thus accurately pro[>ortioned. 
 That I ever made symmetry, however, an object of atten- 
 tion, at the expense of the subject itself; that, for instance, 
 1 ever cut away parts which belonged t'> the subject, or 
 introduced parts entirely foreign from it, m order to have 
 more or less divisions or sub-divisions than I deemed ne- 
 cessary to the harmony of the whole, is, at least, a thing 
 which I am not conscious of ever having done. Hence, 
 instances are to be found in which this symmetry is neglect- 
 ed, as the sul)ject I was at work upon, required soniething 
 else, and Mr. Linde, on the 82d page, has brought for- 
 ward such an instance. Hence, in my fast sermons, two 
 of which usually treat upon the same text, the second fre- 
 quently takes a course entirely different from the first, in- 
 asmuch as the subject which it handles, which is an appli- 
 cation of the theory explained in the first, either required 
 or admitted a different arransiement.v 
 
 In view of all that has now been said, I must request 
 young preachers not to regard every thing symmetrical in 
 my sermons, as an excellency worthy of imitation without 
 the exercise of great caution. It should be so regarded 
 only when this uniformity of divisions and sub-divisions is 
 suggested by the subject itself, and far more radical and 
 natural, than any other would be. Where this is not the 
 case, — where a free division of the subject appears to 
 
 * Reinhard und Ammon oder Predigten Parallele; K6nigsb.l800, 
 
 ■■ 1 
 1 
 
LETTER XII. 95 
 
 have the advantage of enabling a man to treat it in a more 
 thorougli manner,or introduce a greater variety into his dis- 
 course, it should certainly be preferred. My later sermons 
 do in reality exhibit a greater degree of variety, than my 
 others. At least, I have endeavored to be guided in their 
 arrangement, by the subject selected and. the principal di- 
 visions which naturally belonged to it, rather than an incli- 
 nation to symmetry and an artificial admeasurement of di- 
 visions and sub-divisions. But enough of this thing. Per- 
 mit me, my dear friend, in my next letter, to give you 
 some account of the composition and execution of my 
 sermons, and draw these confessions to a close. Fare- 
 well.* 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 Speaks of the composition of his Sermons— Their defects— Not adapted to 
 country congregations— Examples— Difference of ancient and modern el- 
 oquence—Has used some figures of speech too often— Failed of easy tran- 
 sitions—Of a correct use of pronouns— Criticisms— Of publishing a sele«- 
 tiou of his Sermons. 
 
 My Dear Friend — 
 
 There is one other subject to speak of, namely the 
 composition of my sermons, or what the ancient rhetori- 
 cians called elocution ; and hence, their style. It is a 
 subject of which much might be said. You will permit 
 me, however, to treat it with brevity, and take notice only 
 
 * [Many excellent remarks upon the arrangement of Reinhard's sermons 
 might here be added from others, particularly Tzschirner s IJriefe, &c. but 
 brevity forbids. This last work upon the whole subject of these letters, is well 
 worthy of being read. Some farther notice will be taken of R.'s Sermons m 
 Part Second.] 
 
%' LETTER XII. 
 
 of their defects or imperfections in this respect, or at least, 
 of what I do not wish to have imitated before mixed as- 
 semblies or country churches. In the first place, I must 
 confess in general terms, that I have never as yet, been 
 able entirely to satisfy myself in regard to the elocution of 
 my sermons. Indeed, I have never been able to devote 
 so much lime and labor to them, as is requisite to perfect 
 diction. It is impossible for him, who under a pressure of 
 business and amidst unavoidable disturbances, is obliged to 
 preach once every week, and occasionally, oftener, to pro- 
 duce any thing very excellent in its kind. Under such 
 circumstances, one cannot find time for the multa lititra 
 in which alone excellence can originate, there often being 
 scarcely enough left for writing down what a man wishes to 
 say upon paper.* Hence, whenever I read my sermons 
 with critical accuracy, in the style and dress, I every where 
 discover imperfections and defects which might have been 
 avoided, had I possessed more time, or been able to work 
 them over and improve them. Did these imperfections 
 consist merely in my occasionally commencing a sermon 
 with two or three sliort syllables, as has justly been ob- 
 jected to them by Grafe,f I should comfort myself with 
 the reflection, that such a master as Cicero commenced a 
 powerful oration with venio.^ The defects of which I 
 
 * [What then must be said of writing'three sermons a week, under a pres- 
 sure of other parochial duties? Where is there any lime left for thought, rhe- 
 torical preparation, and holy communion with God ? Besides, is it not as well 
 to preach extempore, as to read a sermon written extempore ? To come 
 at the point at once ? Should not the grand object of an education be, to ena- 
 ble a mail to pour forth the rich treasures of his own mind into the minds of 
 others, without being subjected to the slavish necessity of writing them down 
 in the first place ? True, it is an object of great elevation and difficult attain- 
 ment. Nothing but deep practical thinking, close attention to philosophy; in- 
 timate acquaintance with the human heart, susceptibility of emotion, and a 
 thorough knowledge of language, will enable one to reach it 3 but does not 
 the cause of truth require every student for the ministry to make the effort 1 
 Once attained, what power would it put into his hands ? All the time now 
 devoted to the mechanical process of writing, might then be devoted to ener- 
 getic thinking ; and looks, actions, tones of voice, nay, eloquence herself, be 
 brought to the minister's aid. Then, we might expect him to catch the inspi- 
 ration of the revivals which now light up the church and begin to roll their in- 
 fluence over the world, and hear hmi speak in the pulpit, not like a timid child, 
 afraid of offending his audience, with his head pouring over his notes, but like 
 an ambassador of God^ full of awful solemnity, with a message fresh from the 
 portals of heaven ] 
 
 ■f See his Anweisung zum Rhytmus in homilelischer und liturgischer Hifl- 
 sicht,S. 118. t, J 6 
 
 t Compare Accusationis in C. Verrem, lib; IV. 
 
 \\ 
 
LETTER XII. 97 
 
 speak are of a far higher character. They may be stated 
 in general terms, as follows : The expression is not always 
 as excellent, definite and intelligible, as it ought to be, is 
 not rich enough, and does not contain sufficient variety^' 
 Sometimes it is too brief and not sufficiently clear; at oth- 
 ers, it is too verbose, and contains something that is super- 
 fluous. It is often destitute of that easy movement, that 
 ready flow, in which every thing seems to spring naturally 
 forth of itself. Sometimes the ear is offended by a disa- 
 greeable location of the words; at others, it is displeased, 
 or filled with one that is defective. And finally, the trans- 
 ition from one part to another, is not always sufficiently 
 easy and natural, too often recurs, and exhibits too great 
 an appearance of uniformity. Permit me, my dear friend, 
 to make a few definite remarks respecting these several 
 points of complaint, without pretending to follow the order 
 in which they have been named. That the diction of my 
 sermons does not always possess that clearness and sim- 
 plicity which it ought to ; that I have made use of a mul- 
 titude of words and phrases which can be understood only 
 by those who are acquainted with our book language, or at 
 least, by those who have had some degree of scientific ed- 
 ucation, I willingly admit. 1 will go so far as to confess, 
 that in view of my relations, and the churches before which 
 I had to preach, I considered myself not only authorized, 
 but in a manner obliged, to make use of this style and lan- 
 guage. 
 
 At VVittemberg, I preached in the University Church, 
 and most of my common hearers were learned men and 
 students. In addressing this audience, of course, I could 
 make use of many representations, expressions and figures 
 of speech, which would have been altogether improper 
 before any other; and beins; in the habit of using scientific 
 expressions during the whole week, it was natural for me 
 to introduce them into the discourses I wrote for the Sab- 
 bath. In Dresden, I was placed over a church, which was 
 either composed of well educated men, or such as were 
 acquainted with our best writers; and hence, in addressing 
 it, 1 was at liberty to make use of the book language, and a 
 style, altogether above the comprehension of common peo- 
 9 
 
98 LETTER XII. 
 
 pie. Indeed, I was obliged to do so, or create displeas- 
 ure or offence. 
 
 1 liope, however, that no one will think of wrinno; and 
 speaking as I did, who has to address a very mixed as- 
 sembly, or merely country people. 1 am altogether op- 
 posed, indeed,to that false clearntss and simplicity, in which 
 a man speaks to grown persons as children, and degener- 
 ates into what is flat and vulgar. The preacher should 
 not lower himself down to ihe vulgar capacities of the 
 populace, but he should elevate his hearers lo himself; 
 and hence, at all times avail himself of a serious, dignified, 
 and select diction. In so doing, however, he must avoid 
 those turns and expressions with which ignorant or poorly 
 educated people can connect no ideas, or only wrong 
 ones, and make use of those which are well known, or ex- 
 actly describe the thing intended. An example will best 
 illustrate what I mean. 
 
 The thirtieth Sermon cf 1799, treats of the theme: 
 How Christians should regard their location in time. In 
 this case the subject is nni expressed in language sufficient- 
 ly clear. A conmion person will not know what to make 
 of the clause, his location in time. For such an one, the 
 theme should have been thus expressed : How Chris- 
 tians should regard the time in which God permits 
 them to live. In my examination and illustration of this 
 theme, I have used a muhimde of turns and expressions 
 which can be understood only by well educated people. 
 For instance, in the introduction, I have personified time, 
 and called upon her cliihhen fnr that help, which, in 
 common language, siiould be sought for, from, and ascrib- 
 ed to, God ; and used the phrnses : Periodeder vergang- 
 
 enheit unter den Bedini^vni'en der Zeit stehcn — die 
 
 Zeit nimmt uns nicht wiederauf, wenn wir uns ihr einmal 
 entzogen haben — schwarmprische Scher — ihre Periode soil 
 toruber seyn^u.s.w.^ which are altogether above common 
 intellects ; and the body of the sermon is full of instjmces 
 of this kind, and if any one wishes to find a passiige in 
 which they are heaped together in great abundance, he 
 may consult the first sub-ciivi.^ion of the third part, rom- 
 mencing ; Vcrhlendung uenne ich den S'^o/z, nnd ending; 
 dieser Stalz ist wahre Verhhndvns!^. The subjects 
 of this sub-division, are sufficiently intelligible for any coun- 
 
LETTER XII. 99 
 
 try ^illa2;e ; but they are treated of in such language, that I 
 have no idea they would be understood, if declaimed to such 
 a village by a rapid speaker. In short, should 1 accurately 
 examine this sermon, I should find a multitude of words, like 
 strange coin, altogether unknown to the common people, 
 having never been in circulation among them. I have 
 said enough, however, to show, that, as 1 did not write for 
 a country congregation, my sermons are not intelligible to 
 all, and hence, are by no means to be imitated by those 
 who preach to country people.* 
 
 And here I must make some remarks respecting a dif- 
 ference as I think, to be noted, between ancient and mod- 
 ern eloquence. The ancient orator, strictly speaking, 
 never addressed a mixed assembly. His heareis had an 
 equal degree of education, as regarded the main subject, 
 and were alike acquainted witli and interested in, the point 
 in question, respecting which, as it was a matter purely of 
 common life, they believed themselves equally competent 
 10 decide. He was not merely at liberty, therefore, but 
 he was obliged, to use those expressions only, which were 
 generally known and commonly employed ; and the 
 amount of words in circulation were amply sufficient to 
 enable him to say whatever he wished. Had he used 
 poetical forms or philosophical expressions, he would have 
 been ridiculed, as he would have departed from the prac- 
 tices of common life without any just occasion whatever.f 
 With the modern orator, and especially the preacher, ev- 
 ery thing is different. The ait of printing, by the facility 
 with which it spreads all kinds of writings abroad, has in 
 modern time^ formed a reading public as it is called, of 
 which the ancients were totally ignorant. When writers 
 sought to impart every thing to this public which could 
 be interesting to man, and began even to reduce the ab- 
 stract sciences to a po[)ular form, they were obliged to 
 form a language altogether peculiar, and entirely different 
 from that used by the mere speaking and talking public, 
 
 * The Remarks of Greilinj^, Von der hohern iind niedern Popularitat, in the 
 work already quoted : Theorie der Popularitat, ^ 51 S. 97 ff. are well worth 
 atlenlion. 
 
 t Hence, the reason why Cicero made so many apologies whenever he 
 wished to use philosophic-al and scienlifie exfjressions. See Pro ArchiaPoeta 
 c. %; al io the couclusion of this Oration, and Pro Murena, c. 29. ' 
 
100 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 and which, as it is to be met with only in books, may with 
 propriety be called the hook language. Hence, originat- 
 ed necessities which threw the modern orator, and espec- 
 ially the preaclier, into an embarrassment, of which the 
 ancient orators knew nothing."^ If, for instance, nhe preach- 
 er makes use altogether of those expressions which are 
 universally known and employed in common life, he of- 
 fends what is called the reading public, — a class of people 
 accustomed to a language of a higher cast, which they 
 have acquired, if in no other way, by reading novels and 
 romances, and who of course look upon the preacher's 
 language, as too vulgar, — and hence, cannot endiu'e it. If, 
 on the other hand, the preacher uses the book language or 
 mingles it wiih the other, he renders himself unintelligible 
 to those who do not read, and addresses himself to them 
 in words and phrases in which they cannot tl)ink. Such 
 being the embarrassing and conflicting wants and demands 
 of the modern world, it is almost impossible for a man to do 
 justice to. every individual of a very mixed audience, com- 
 posed of the learned and the unlearned. At least, I am cer- 
 tain that I sliould not succeed in atlempting to puisue a mid- 
 dle course, which, while it pleased the educated, should be 
 intelligible to the uneducated. Hence, 1 have ever con- 
 sidered it as a cause of great congratulation, that my pub- 
 lic audiences have always been of a uniform character and 
 well acquainted with the book language. This fact has 
 justified me in writing, nay, obliged me to write, as I have 
 done, whereas, if I had been a country minister, or obliged 
 to preach to mixed assemblies, I should have proceeded 
 in a manner entirely different, and endeavored to use the 
 language between those two extremes, of winch I have al- 
 ready spoken. With these remarks before them, intelli- 
 gent hearers will not find it difficult to ascertain, what parts 
 of my sermons are not written in a sufiiciently popular 
 style, and hence, what parts and phrases they should by no 
 means think of imitating. 
 
 One of the great faults of my sermons, is, a too frequent 
 use of certain figuresofspeech, especially the interrogation. 
 
 * Chrysostom, however, early beg'an to complain of something of the same 
 Jdnd. De Sacerdot, 1. V. c, J. stqq. 
 
LETTER XII. 101 
 
 It does indeed give a discourse more vivacity and im- 
 pression, to transform those positions which the preacher 
 deems of especial importance to the hearers, into questions, 
 addressed immediately to the decision as it were, of their 
 judgments. But I cannot deny, that I have sometimes 
 introduced this mode of speech where it was inappropriate, 
 and every thing would have been better, categorically ex- 
 pressed. Besides, the too frequent use of this figure 
 creates a uniformity which is disagreeable. Indeed, a 
 man wlio makes a too frequent use of the interrogation, 
 will fail of accomplishing his object. The very fact, that 
 it is often introduced and rendered as it were common, 
 will deprive it of all effect. That it increases the difficul- 
 ty of uttering a discourse and occasions a greater exer- 
 tion of the lungs. I will not even mention. Here and 
 there I liave also too frequently introduced the exclama- 
 tion. I believe, however, that I have made a bad use of 
 this figure, less frequently than of the other. 
 
 The art of making the transitions from one division or 
 sub-division to anotlier in a natural and easy manner, has 
 something in it altogether peculiar. These transitions 
 may be compared to the joints of a body. Without joints 
 the body would be stiff and helpless, and without those of 
 sufficient pliability, be racked with every movement. 
 That 1 have taken great pains to connect the parts of my 
 sermons together in a natural and easy manner, is a thing 
 of which I am perfectly conscious. I have never suc- 
 ceeded, however, in doing justice to myself in this respect. 
 On the other hand, the transitions of many of my sermons, 
 are not only sometimes unnatural and constrained, but of- 
 ten too uniform. The former appears to me to be fre- 
 quently the case with the connexions of the grand divis- 
 ions. With all my efforts so to add the main parts to 
 each other, that they should seem to rise of their own ac- 
 cord, I have often come far short of success. I hope, 
 therefore, that none who read my sermons will take them 
 as correct guides in this respect, but aim at a far higher 
 degree of perfection. The other fault, or too great uni- 
 formity in the transitions, is particularly conspicuous in the 
 sub-divisions. Often, indeed, these transitions are quite 
 •easy and natural, especially when the words with which 
 *9 
 
102 LETTER XIl. 
 
 a division closes, remind the reader of, and prepare him for, 
 the succeeding one ;* when the grand division is of such 
 a character, that one part follows from another ; and final- 
 ly, when there is a gradation in the parts. If, however, any 
 person reads a number of my sermons in succession, he will 
 find these easy and natural transitions frequently returning, 
 and too little diversified. This is a subject, also, upon 
 which those must reflect, who wish to render their dis- 
 courses highly perfect. 
 
 In discourses which are accurately arranged and divid- 
 ed into the parts which are to be closely remarked upon 
 and impressed upon the memory, nothing is more natural, 
 than that one should frequently avail himself of that kind 
 of transition which the ancient rhetoricians called co'iiplex- 
 ion. Tliis mode of concluding a point is extremely ap- 
 propriate, because it repeats the explained and proved 
 series of thought, ordinarily in the very same expressions 
 in which it was originally stated, and again as it were, re- 
 commends it to the memory. From the whole construction 
 of my sermons, every thing they contained, being divided 
 into parts as the principal subjects of remarks and reflec- 
 tionss I was almost necessarily inclined, to make a frequent 
 use o^ ihe complexion ; in part, for the perfection of every 
 division : and in part, for the sake of an easy transition 
 from one subject to another, making the progression of 
 the whole treatise the more obvious, and rendering it easy 
 for the hearer to draw the conclusion. Even in this re- 
 spect, however, I have not always observed due modera- 
 tion. I have often used the complexion with too great 
 uniformity, even where it might have been omitted, without 
 doing any prejudice to the discourse; and I might, and for 
 the sake of variety, should, have selected a more appro- 
 priate mode of connexion and transition. Here then is 
 another imperfection which every one should seek to 
 avoid, in working out his discourses. 
 
 1 have always had considerable difficulty in making a 
 proper use of pronouns. Indeed, I have taken great pains 
 so to use them, that all ambiguity by the reference of them 
 
 *Upon this suhject consult Wachter's masterly l)ut too laudatory analysis, 
 of one of my sermons, in the second volume of the AUgem. praktisch. Biblio~ 
 thek fQr i'retliger uud fcJchulmJjinner. S. 165 £ 
 
LETTER XII. 103 
 
 to a wrong antecedent should be Impossible, and yet have 
 often failed in the attempt. In reading my sermons, I 
 constantly stumble upon passages extre(nely defective in 
 this respect. A passage commencing, Gott hat iinsern 
 Geist, §-c.. Sermon 24th of 1799, p. 404, is a notable in- 
 stance ; for, in the course of a few sentences, there is a 
 perfect obscurity, the pronouns being equally referrible to 
 Gott, Geist, or Korper. The sentence commencing, 
 Himmlische, von Gott, and ending der Juden geivorden, 
 in the first remarks of the Reformation Sermon of 1796, 
 is a similar instance; the nouns. Religion and fVarheit 
 together with the pronouns and adjectives referring to 
 them, being completely blended together, so that the an- 
 tecedents to which they respectively refer, cannot be dis- 
 tinguished. That it is difficult to avoid all obscurity of 
 this kind, I am ready to acknowledge. It can often be 
 done only by completely changing the train of thought, and 
 casting it into another form.^ True, the reference of these 
 ambiguous pronouns can generally be ascertained from 
 the connexion of the sentence and the nature of the sub- 
 ject. It should be recollected, however, that, in listening 
 to a speaker, the hearer has no time to compare the con- 
 text, or pry into the nature of the subject, but he is under 
 the necessity of listening to what continues to be said, and 
 passing by what he does not apprehend upon the spot. I 
 must maintain, therefore, that every writer who wishes to 
 become master of a good style, must be as careful as pos- 
 sible to avoid all such imperfections. 
 
 I might bring forward a multitude of examples to show 
 you, that the expressions of my sermons are not always as 
 definite and excellent, nor as easy, as they ought to be ; and 
 that they might often have been rendered more agreeable 
 and harmonious. 1 should weary your patience, however, 
 my dear friend, as well as that of my readers, if I should 
 do so. If you wish to see a very imperfect passage, you 
 may consult the first sub-division of the first part of the 
 
 * [We have the same difficulty to contend with in the English language, as 
 every writer knows from experience j but it is greatly dimniisihed hy our phi- 
 losophical use of nouns in regard to gender, and the power we have of fre- 
 quently conferring upon neutral objects an artificial gender, or, in other words^ 
 of availing ourselves of the aid of personification ; bo that, in many cases, our 
 language has all the advantages of the German in this respect, without being 
 embarrassed with its disadvantages.] 
 
104 LETTER XII. 
 
 above quoted Reformation Sermon.* I flatter myself, 
 indeed, with the hope, that there are few more so. At 
 least, I have not stumbled upon many as imperfect, myself. 
 I must acknowledge, however, that I never sit down to 
 read any of my sermons with a critical eye, without find- 
 ing single expressions, turns, and even whole periods, 
 which might have been written far better, as you will read- 
 ily believe. Indeed, I never arise from such a reading, 
 with any real satisfaction, but generally with pain, on re- 
 flecting, that, with all my labor and diligence, I have come 
 far short of satisfactorily and truly representing what my 
 mind had conceived, as my own feelings required it should 
 be ; and even now, with all my experience, 1 come far 
 short of the standard of excellence to which I wish to at- 
 tain. 
 
 The venerable Blessig who has sought in so kind and 
 honorable a manner to introduce me to the French public, 
 has expressed a wish, that, out of m}^ numerous sermons, 
 a selection of a few volumes of the best, might be made 
 and published, as a kind of legacy to posterity. f I doubt, 
 my friend, very much, whether posterity will care any 
 thing about such a legacy. And then, who is to make the 
 selection? and, if it were made, as it would contain noth- 
 ing new, who would print it? Farewell. 
 
 * [The author enters into a criticism of this passage, which occupies about 
 six pag'es, which, too^ether with several other criticisms, is, for obvious reasons^ 
 omitted, though a reference is made to every passage.] 
 
 t See a notice appended to the French translation of my Reformation Ser- 
 mon of 1807, published at Strasburg, p. 47. 
 
MEMOIRS,* &c 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. Last Sickness and Death. 
 
 The preceding letters or confessions, in wliicli Reinhard 
 gives an account of his education for the sticrcd office, 
 with various other particulars, were first publi-hed at Sulz- 
 bach,in 1810. On the Gth of Sept. 1S12, at about three 
 o^clock in the morning, this truly vener:ible man expired. 
 That quick and painless exit which the wise so eagerly 
 covet, and, as the king of terrors cannot overtake 
 them unawares, deem one of the best favors of heaven, 
 that easy transition of the soul from earth to the hands 
 of its Creator, with which his dearly beloved Heynef 
 was so richly blessed, did not full to his lot. His pas- 
 sage to the tomb was long and dreary, and marked with 
 disease and pain ; and death, when it came, seemed rath- 
 er to deliver him from his bodily anguish, than to put an 
 end to his existence. That blending together of the images 
 of life and death, however, which every where crowd 
 themselves upon us, of which he himself has spoken so in- 
 
 * The following particulars respecting ReinharH's 'ife, writings. &c., are 
 drawn chiefly trom 1 6 ligei's Delineation of his Cliaracter, Zeiclniung von 
 Reinhard, Dresden, 1813, but are interwoven with various remarks drawn from 
 other sources. 
 
 t Probably, Christian Gottlob Heyne, a celebrated philologist, teacher, and 
 general scholar, a native of Chemnitz, and Professor of Eloquence at Gottin- 
 gen, where he died of a fit of apoplexy, July the 14lh, 1812. 
 
m 
 
 106 LAST SICKNESS 
 
 structlv^ely in one of his sermons,* produced no* other ef- 
 fect upon iiim than to render him anxious to distinguish 
 every moment of suffering by doing something useful ; nor 
 was he, as has been publicly asserted, daily and painfully 
 engaged in earnest importunities to God for the salvation 
 of his soul, until nature herself became exhausted. To 
 labor in the extensive sphere of usefulness allotted to him, 
 and fulfil the duties of his high calling, constituted his sup- 
 port, bis oil in the lamp oflile, and bread of heaven in the 
 desert. To this effect he often expressed himself to those 
 around him. ' I will willingly bear every variety of pain 
 and bodily suffering,' said he, ' if, in the mean time, I may 
 only be permitted to mount the pulpit and preach as I 
 have hitherto done.' 
 
 In general, this Christian sage exhibited no inclination 
 to die magnanimously, as it is common for thousands to 
 do, nor, though he believed far more extensive and con- 
 soling views burst upon the departed Christian, f did he 
 say any thing of the soul's being released from her prison 
 house, the body; and it was only when he considered his 
 usefulness at an end, that he looked upon deaih as desira- 
 ble. At length the messenger of peace made his appear- 
 ance, and kindly beckoned him away. After his de])arture, 
 a heavenly smile stood upon his lips, then, for the first 
 time, silent, which erased from his emaciated countenance 
 almost every appearance of disease and pain, and over- 
 spread it with that heavenly serenity which had always 
 pervaded his breast. 
 
 Having, in 1803, while on an official journey through 
 Erzgebirg, fallen from his horse, and broken one of his 
 legs, he was confined by the accident to the house of 
 the Superintendent in Chemnitz, J for nearly three months, 
 and so intimidated, that, notwithstanding the earnest im- 
 portunities of liis friends, he would never afterwards 
 venture to mount a saddle; the conseqnenre of which 
 was, his deprivation of suitable exercise, and the aggra- 
 vation of various diseases to which he had for some 
 time been subjected. In 1811, an obstinate hemor* 
 
 * Predig-ten, 1804, Tli. II. S. 104 ff. 
 
 t See Reinhard's Cli. Moral, Tti. V. S. 183 i. 
 
 X See the Sermons of IC04, Pred. I, S. 2 fil 
 
 
AND DEATH, 107 
 
 rhoidal complaint had so far got the upper hand of him, 
 as to induce liim to form the hazardous resolution of sub- 
 mitting to a painful and dangerous clururgical operation, 
 in which he shared not only the well-known skill, but the 
 sympathy and constant attention of Hedenus, the royal 
 surgeon. Every thing at first seemed to promise the hap- 
 piest success, but soon the operation was found, instead of 
 eradicating the disease, to have driven it to more vital 
 parts. In the midst of the most excruciating pain, how- 
 ever, he not only performed all the duiies of his office, but 
 continued to preach almost every Sunday, without inter- 
 mission, until the end of the winter of 1812, when the gout 
 attacked one of his feet, and disqualified liiai for all public 
 duties. He never ascended the pulpit after the fast 
 on the 28th of February ; though, considering preaching 
 as he did, the very soul of Protestantism, and the business 
 to which every thing else should be made subordinate, it 
 filled him with inexpressible sorrow. He did not remain 
 inactive, however, for while he was afflined with his lame 
 foot, he examined candidates for the ministry for fourteen 
 days in succession, beginning immediately after Easter. 
 Tliis was tl)e last time l)e performed this service ; and long 
 will the youth of Saxony who were present, with pleasure 
 call to mind the exercises by whicli he consecrated them to 
 the ministry, while he sought to enkindle in their hearts the 
 flameofdevotion, and fill ihem with those doctrines by which 
 the two worlds are connected together, listened in and crit- 
 icised, though not with great efforts, their first attempts at 
 sermonizing, and attended again, thougli not wiihotjt pain- 
 ful suffering, every session of the ecclesiastical council 
 and chief consistory.* 
 
 Not having visited the Upper Palatinate since 1604, he 
 felt anxious to see his beloved native country once more, 
 before iiedied. With the hope therefore of redhcinc; the 
 complicated diseases wliich preyed upon him,-}- and 
 strengthening himself for the journey, he commnnced the 
 
 * Tl<e rea^'er v/ill find much information respodiiig various customs refer- 
 red to ill ihis worli. iii the several anicles upon Germany jruMishcd in ihe first 
 volume of tlie Hit I Repos. 
 
 t Among olhrr disorders, he had long been troubled wilh acomj lainl of the 
 bladdt^r. 
 
108 LAST SICKNESS 
 
 use of ass's milk, it having been found very salutary in 
 chronic complaints. To avail himself of this kind of diet 
 without disturbnnce, he retired to Tharant, where he spent 
 five weeks. Tiiis is one of the most pleasant bathing pla- 
 ces in the region of Dresden. At that time, however, it 
 presented him with a double attraclion, from the fact, that 
 it daily enjoyed the refreshing visits of his much esteemed 
 physician and friend, Dr. Kapp, a man, distinguished 
 alike for his scientific knowledge, experience, and practi- 
 cal skill, surrounded by his grand children, and like Luci- 
 an's Dernonax, passing from house to house, welcomed 
 wherever he went. The company and conversation of 
 this engaging man, furnished Reinhard with an agreeable 
 compensation for his constrained inactivity, which, of all 
 the afflictions God had laid upon him, he found the most 
 painful to bear. The summer, however, proved rainy and 
 unpleasant, and did not permit Reinhard often to avail 
 himself of the bath. The only effect of his dieting, was 
 to drive his complaint to his lungs, which had hitherto re- 
 mained unaffected. A consumptive cou^h succeeded, 
 which deprived him of all sound repose, or if he ever slept 
 quietly, seemed to render it the means of aggravating all 
 the syuif)toms of his complaint. His body gradually con- 
 sumed away, and finally began to break down altogether. 
 The oldest and most experienced physicians of Dresden, 
 connected with him by the tenderest ties of friendship, 
 among whom that excellent old man. Dr. Pezold then in 
 his fiftieth year, the royal physician and aulic councillor 
 Kreisig, and the sm-geon Hedenus, should be particular- 
 ly mentioned, having all been consulted, had exhausted 
 their utmost efibrts to procure him relief. Reinhard at- 
 tended to the various j)rescriptions, which, from time to 
 time, after much reflection they prepared for him, merely 
 from a sense of duty, and not from a conviction that they 
 were able to do him any good. 
 
 With that sure prophetical presentiment which some 
 politicians possess, he always evinced, and death ofien 
 seems only to quicken, he calculated for his approaching 
 end. With deep interest he thought of his ordinary course 
 of life, his domestic circle, and the scene of his labors, 
 and, leaving his retirement, hastened to his garden seat, m 
 
AND DEATH. 109 
 
 one of the nearest suburbs of Dresden. Here, among his 
 favorite plants, in tl)e open air, he derived some pleasure 
 from warming himself in the rays of the sun, whenever it 
 shone forth mild and pleasant; and as it fatigued h'un too 
 much to walk, he refreshed himself about noon by resort- 
 ing to his green house, which was surrounded with herbs 
 and flowers. On such occasions, his friends, seeing the 
 vivacity with which he took part in discussions of a pubh'c 
 or private nature, often felt themselves animated with new 
 hopes of his recovery. It was natural that they should 
 hope for the best, but he always refused to assent to their 
 opinion, and replied by shaking his head and appealing to 
 appearances. 
 
 But however great the exhaustion of the sufferer might 
 be, accustomed as he always had been, to struggle for the 
 victory over himself, he did not willingly give himself up 
 to it or long remain inactive, though it was only at broken 
 intervals that the mind was able to obtain the victory over 
 the body. He still continued to rise early in the morn- 
 ing, though an hour later than formerly, as it was not until 
 towards morning that he could obtain sound repose, — 
 dressed himself, and immediately resorted to his delight- 
 ful tasks. It was not until the last fortnight of his life, that 
 he would so far yield to the importunities of the h'iends 
 around him, as to continue sitting in an easy posture in his 
 night dress, on the sofa. To lie on the bed in the day 
 time, was a thing to which he refused to assent, to the very 
 last ; so great was the control of his mind over a body 
 which had almost refused to serve. On the meeting of 
 the diet in 1811, the magnanimous classes of the kingdom 
 had granted an extraordinary contribution for the institu- 
 tion at St. Afra. A new building had been commenced 
 in that place, and a plan of instruction drawn up, to the 
 perfection of which Reinhard was desired to contribute by 
 his remarks, which he accordingly did, notwithstanding his 
 weakness, and aided in various other ways, in which he 
 proved to this alma mater of a Gellert and Lessing, what 
 he had previously, to that at Pforie, a paternal counseller 
 and friend.* But a few days before his death, he drew 
 
 * The building was consecrateH on tlie 17lh of Nov. and devoted to the sol- 
 emnization of Reinhard's death on llie 17th of Dec. 1812. 
 
 10 
 
110 LAST SICKNESS 
 
 up in his own hand writing, a prayer to be read in the 
 evangelical Court Church on the day of the consecration 
 of this btiilding, which was fixed for the 13ih of Septem- 
 ber. In this and similar ways, he passed the time of his 
 sickness, always contending with his complaint and en- 
 deavoring to get the victory over himself. Only two 
 days before his death, he wrote a letter to a friend at Wit- 
 temberg, and corrected a proof sheet to the fifth part of 
 his JMoral. One of the last works he read through with 
 attention, of which aUo he expressed his approbation, was 
 Heeren's Jdeen. At this lime also he was constantly en- 
 gaged in .giving assistance and advice, either orally or in 
 wriiiui;-, to persons around him and at a distance, wliile to 
 the close of life, he continued to take a lively interest in 
 passing circumstances (md events, which like his friend 
 John Aliilier* he always believed to be under the divine 
 control, in which respect he firmly adhered to those views 
 and feelings expressed in his 17th sermon of 1811, Upon 
 the Government of God over the worlds addressed to those 
 Christians who entertained doubts on this point. 
 
 Amidst the pain and weakness of body, however, to 
 which, notwithstanding the strength of his mind, he was 
 subjected during the last days of his life, he had notice of 
 several events calculatc^d to fill him with joy. From one 
 of his relatives who had published his Sermons, Theology, 
 and Confessions, who belonged to one of the most respec- 
 table booksellers in Germany, and had come all the way 
 from Siilzbach to Dresden, for the sole purpose of once 
 more seeing his benefactor and friend, he received infor- 
 mation, that a work which had been sent to bim during his 
 sickness in 1811, and to which he wrote a short but pow- 
 erful preface, had gone through two editions the very first 
 year of its publication, and been the means of scattering 
 many of the imperishable seeds of truth. f The most 
 joyful news that he heard, however, was, that tlie king had 
 
 » See Job. V. MuHcr's WerKe. VIII, ?36, 2^0. 263 ; Triefe pn seinen altes- 
 tcn Kremul in der Schweiz, (Znrch, Fuessly, 1812,) S 2G9. 
 
 f Pynlio uiid Pliilaletlr-s, Sulztiach, Seidel, 1812. It was written by the 
 yciitrnble Creli, (Councillor of the Mines, in GoU A c., at the close o\ his dis- 
 tingui^h'<' cfircer, aixl txluhits his views of he trulh. wliir h, in respect to 
 physicothi-dh'gy aisd leleologica! proof", corns[)oiid wiih iho:-e of Keiuhard, 
 Moral, 1V.4U1, V. 1G3. li was |jiibliihed at first wiihuut his name. 
 
AND DEATH. Ill 
 
 approved of the plan of a university at Leipsic which had 
 been drawn np by a double number of royal cornmission- 
 ers WHO had been appointed for this purpose, to whom 
 Reinhard belonged, and thus crowned a work for which 
 he had ardently labored. Of the success of his hibors, 
 however, lie was never inclined to say much, nor did he 
 seem to derive pleasure fiom looking at the past. He felt 
 as tlioiii;h it was unbecoming a sower, to feel |)ro(id of 
 his harvest, however great it m'-ght be, since God had 
 brouii;ht it forth by means of rain and sunshine, from the 
 germ" which he himself had created. To wish like a hero, 
 to enjoy iht^good of a work at (he evening of life, he con- 
 sidered as bordering upon foolishness. Oihers might 
 warm their hearts in this way, and delight themselves with 
 such considerations, but he could not. The greatest and 
 happiest efforts he made, fell far short of what he endeav- 
 ored and felt himself obligated to perform, even in writing 
 his sermons; and hence, he was often filled with the most 
 unfeigned astonishment at the frequent and flcittering proofs 
 which he received from the reniotest parts, of the good he 
 had been the means of effecting. 
 
 Very torching and interesting were the remarks which 
 he made, from time to time, to his friends, when they in- 
 dulged themselves in expressing their good wishes, and 
 sought to show, that his immediate usefulness could not then 
 be abo'Jt to close. They stiikin^ly exhibited his humility, 
 and entire dissatisfaction with himself, not withstanding the 
 internal purity of his moral character, the motives by which 
 he had ever been actuated, and the strenuous efforts he 
 had made to accomplish all the good in his power. " God 
 is confined to no particular i-nstrum.ent," was his reply. 
 «' If he does not choose to employ me, he is able to find 
 another. He is too perfect in wisdom, to suffer his plans 
 and operations to depend upon imperfection. " 
 
 For some days his hiccough h^d been increasing upon 
 him, and gradually diminishing his strength, but yei he did 
 not suppose his dissolution to be so near as it was. On 
 the alternoon preceding his death, in complinnce with the 
 wishes of his wife, he was removed from his garden seat, 
 to his official residence in the city. On this occasion he 
 left all his papers behind him, except the manuscript to the 
 
112 LAST SICKNESS. 
 
 fifth part of his Moral, and, when carried by the evangeli- 
 cal Court Church in which, for the last 21 years, his belov- 
 ed and affectionate people, under the influence of his 
 preaching, had assembled in harmonious and heart-felt 
 union, heard its well known clock strike for the last time. 
 In the evening, he made no change Irom the' usual course 
 of his life, or the order of the day. He read with an un- 
 broken voice, from the second |)art of Liclitenstein's travels, 
 and retired to bed at his usucil hour. His rest was quiet, 
 except that he once awoke, unlil after midnight, when he 
 found himself unable to rise. " Farewell," said he, imme- 
 diately, " farewell to you all." These were his last words, 
 which he repeated several liines, and, in a few moments, 
 expired. They were heard from the Aar to the Dwina, and 
 listened to with deep and heart-felt emotion by the absent, 
 and often will ihey be repeated with grateful recollections 
 by the churches which he educated and establislied in the 
 truth, and his brethren in the ministry, whom he tenderly 
 loved, always bore on his heart before the throne of grace, 
 and prayed for aloud every evening, unlil God successively 
 calls tiiem to take their silent repose. 
 
 As may be supposed by any one who has read the 9th 
 letter of his Confessions, he adhered to the doctrine of 
 free grace, through the atoning blood of Christ, and, liovv- 
 ever foolish it may appear to the Rationalist, or be made 
 a subject of controversy, derived his chief support from it 
 in the hour of death; and though some may shrug up their 
 shoulders, on reading this, and affect to drop a tear of 
 compassion over bin), and others atlenipt to ridicule him, 
 and pronounce him a hypocrite, as they did when his Re- 
 formation Sermon made its appearance, breathed forth his 
 departing spirit into the hands of his Redeemer.'^ His 
 death adds another testimony, if another were needed, to 
 the reality of the consolation to be derived, in exchanging 
 worlds, from a hope of free pardon through Christ. No 
 sparks of enthusiasm or flights of a diseased imagination 
 kindled up false fires in his breast, or illuded the eye of 
 reason, nor was his mind obscured with the darkness of 
 ignorance. The flame of devotion glowed steadily within, 
 
 * Many incorrect accounts have been published respecting Reinhard's death. 
 The above was drawn from the testimony of his widow. 
 
AND DEATH. 113 
 
 and reason kept watch at her post. With an enlightened 
 eye, he gazed into the opening gulf before him, without 
 trembling or dismay, and, having labored on its brink until 
 his summons arrived, he calmly leaped into it, and was 
 seen no more. How different ihis, from the blind -folded 
 exit of the scoffing sinner ! We cannot dwell, however, 
 upon the death of this good man, but must ask the reader's 
 pardon for hurrying him back to take a more particular 
 survey of his life, writings, and character. 
 
 II. His Youth and Education. 
 
 Of the youth of Reinhard, it will be unnecessary to add 
 much to what he has already told us. He was born at 
 Vohenstrauss, in the Dukedom of Sulzbach, March the 
 12th, 1753. He early evinced an ardent thirst for know- 
 ledge, an insatiable desire to improve himself, and seemed 
 to derive his greatest pleasure from mental occupations. 
 While the other children were spending their time in vari- 
 ous sports and plays, the little Francis, eager to learn, was 
 seen, especially in the evening, bending over his book or 
 his writing table, engaged in reading, or in composing 
 short fables, hymns, and essays, some of which, the re- 
 mainder of his relatives, in the Upper Palatinate, may still 
 possess. In these youthful productions, we are told, he 
 evinced vivacity, and a stirring and active imagination, 
 which, though laid under powerful restraints by the seri- 
 ous and laborious nature of his employments in after life, 
 could never be entirely subdued.* Until 15 years of age, 
 he found an excellent and faithful teacher in his father, a 
 pious and worthy clergyman of the place where he was 
 born, by whom he was early made thoroughly acquainted 
 with the ancient classics, especially Virgil and Cicero, and 
 thus enabled to lay that foundation, upon which alone, in 
 modern times, the fame of authorship, a ^ew choice and 
 
 * Though Reinhard frequently disclaimed all pretensions to the poetic art, 
 and wished, in his works, to be considered merely as a plain writer of prose, 
 it was from his uller opposition to every thing^ like prose run mad, a kind of 
 style quite popular with some preachers, but against vAiirh he used to express 
 himself in Socraiic irony. He early wrote some metncal translations of the 
 Greek Anthology, by way of amusement, which were published in the N. T. 
 Merkur. 'J'hat he had a very susceptible imagination when a lad, is evident 
 ,/rom what he himself says, Opusc. Acad. .11. 273. 
 
 *10 
 
114 HIS YOUTH 
 
 original works of the imagination excepted, has always 
 been raised. Reinhard's father presents us with a worthy 
 example in this respect, for he delighted in teaching his 
 children and devoted all his leisure to this business. He 
 seems to have felt a great attachment for Francis, and to 
 have cherished fond hopes of being able to make something 
 out of him, as he used often to express himself; and hav- 
 ing but little relaxation from the duties of his profession} 
 in 1768 he made arrangements for sending him to the 
 Gymnasium Poeticum, at Regensburg, where he himself 
 had been educated, soon after which, he expired. 
 
 Reinhard speaks of his residence at this place, which 
 commenced in the autumn of the above-named year, with 
 considerable particularity. He appears to have devoted 
 the most of his time to the study of the classics. While 
 here, he derived much benefit from Mr. Augustus Topfer, 
 the conrecior, into whose class he first entered, and whom 
 he mentions in very grateful terms. This man never came 
 forward as an author, but he attended most conscientiously 
 to his business as instructor, and, by endeavoring to raise 
 those pupils worthy of it, above the common level, attach- 
 ed them firmly to himself, thus exhibiting his own talents 
 and integrity as a teacher ; for nothing distinguishes the 
 miserable hireling from the faithful instructor more readily, 
 than that the former planes all wood equally bad, while 
 the latter cuts a Mercury only out of the best. By pursu- 
 ing such a course and bringing forward the powers of this 
 one youth, (whom afterwards when ascending to the high- 
 est dignity, he had the exalted satisfaction of pressing to his 
 heart,) and thus qualifying him for usefulness, Topfer did 
 more good to the world than he would have done by pub- 
 lishing a hundred programs and other such things. To 
 this man, Reinhard was in a great measure indebted for 
 the attachment he felt for Cicero during life, that fulness 
 •of thought for which he is so conspicuous, and the chaste- 
 Dess and skill he acquired in writing the Latin language, 
 being scarcely equalled in this respect by any two theolo- 
 gians among all his contemporaries in Germany.* 
 
 • This is perfpctlv evident from his university programs, by the collecting 
 together and publishing ol which, Politz has done great service to the public, 
 as it was a work which Reinhard would never have undertaken himself; though 
 lie has since made some rich additions to these programs. 
 
AND EDUCATION. 115 
 
 IReinliard seems also to have derived considerable bene- 
 fit from Martini, at that lime rector, witli whom lie became 
 acquainted at a later period. He speaks of him with 
 gratitude, and says he delivered some rich lectures on the 
 Socratic mode of instruction, wiiich proved of great value.* 
 
 He seems to have derived but little benefit from his 
 other teachers. Their lectures were long and tedious, and 
 came far short of satisfying the active mind of this youth, 
 and hence, he spent tlie most part of his four years and a 
 half at this place, in unwearied attention to his own studies. 
 In the mean time, however, he found patrons and patron- 
 essesj in some of the first families in Regensburg, which 
 was then very flourishing, whose assistance, toged)er with 
 what he received frotn some near relatives at home, poor 
 as he was, supplied his wants, and prevented the necessity 
 of his wasiing the precious days of seed-time, in teaching 
 others for the purpose of obtaining money ; for though he 
 sometimes gave private instruction, he did it gratis, and 
 for his own improvement. f 
 
 Having become an able gymnasiast and auditor ^ in 
 1773, Reinhard left Regensburg, and entered the univer- 
 sity at Wittemberg. Both Erlangen and Altorf were 
 nearer, and each of them, at that time, presented some 
 peculiar facilities and conveniences for a residence. ' Pro- 
 fessor Grimm, however, one of Reinhard's teachers, and a 
 zealous defender of the Crusian philosophy, then in high 
 repute, particularly in the South of Germany, having con- 
 ceived a high regard for him, gave him a most flattering 
 recommendation to Mirus, the Electoral Saxon Secretary 
 of Legation. This man's sons, one of whom still lives in 
 Regensburg, had been Reinhard's school-fellows. He 
 was likewise zealously attached to the Crusian philosophy, 
 and felt anxious to have a youth of such splendid talents, 
 enlist under the same banners to which he himself had 
 sworn allegiance. Accordingly, Mirus, who had studied 
 theology, and made himself thoroughly acquainted with all 
 its sciences, drew up a plan, agreeably to which Reinhard 
 was to commence his studies at Wittemberg, the cheapest 
 place, under the direction of Dr. Schmid, who was Cru~ 
 
 * Opusc. Acad. I. 109. 
 
 t With the preceding, compare Tzschirner, Briefe, u. s. w, I, II, 
 
116 AND EDUCATION. 
 
 sius' nephew, and thoroughly acquainted with his theo- 
 logical and philosophical views, and complete them at 
 Leipsic, at the feet of the master himself, to whom Rein- 
 hard was early introduced, while on a journey tlirough 
 Leipsic, by a letter from Mirus, and froui whom, he, at 
 the same time, received paternal counsel and advice. The 
 new and interesting: acquaintances, however, which Rein- 
 hard had formed, during his first year's residence at Wit- 
 temberg, togetlier with the death of Crusius in 1775, pre- 
 vented him from carrying the second part of tl.is plan into 
 execution. He, nevertheless, remained firmly atiached 
 to the Crusian philosophy, at least, during the two first 
 years of his academical career, — a thing, which was the 
 natural result of the relations he sustained to Dr. Schmid, 
 and the respect he had for his profound learning. 
 
 Of Reinhard's first and successful attempt at preaching 
 in Dietrichsdorf, his attention to the oriental languages, j 
 
 under Dr. Dresde, and his efforts to supply other deficien- 
 cies in his education, while a student at the university, he ' 
 has given us sufficient information, in his 5th and 6th let- 
 ters. The only circumstance, which, perhaps, deserves 
 to be particularly mentioned, is, that he had the happiness 
 of attending Schrockh's lectures upon church history, in a 
 private course of instruction; as they exerted a powerful 
 influence upon him."^' To them, indeed, and the almost 
 daily intercourse he had with this thoroughly learned and 
 ingenious man, after he became a teacher in the university, 
 he attributed the freedom of thouglit which he afterwards 
 acquired, and the disinclination he felt to being confined 
 to anv particular school. It was through the influence of 
 this man, in particular, that Reinhard was induced, at the 
 close of his preparatory studies, to turn his attention to the 
 business of instruction. He became thoroughly attached 
 to him for the remainder of his life, and afterwards went 
 twice from Dresden to the delightful neighborhood of Wit- 
 lemberg, on purpose to see him.f 
 
 * See Tzschirner, Ueber Schrockh's Leben und Schriften, S. XLI. 
 
 t Respecting Schroclih's aversion to the Crusian philosophy, see Ni.tzsch, 
 XJeber Schroclch's Studienwesen uud Maximen, S Si. After Reinhard and 
 Schrockh became colleaoues, they, ahiiost daily, had mutual intercourse with 
 each other, reLpecling every new phenomenon in the literary and political 
 ■world, generally in short notes, full of Attic salt, wrillen from their studies . 
 
117 
 
 III. Reinhard as a Teacher. 
 
 In the year 1777, by means of an essay Tor trial, re- 
 specting the use of the Se|)luagint, in criticising the He- 
 brew text, Reinhard obtained liberty to teach in the uni- 
 versity at VViiteinberg.* His education could hardly have 
 been better than it "was, to qualify iiim for this business. 
 In addition to this, Reinhard was born a teacher, and never 
 felt happier, than when surrounded with his pupils, and 
 giving them instruction. He then considered himself as 
 enjoying life in the highest degree.f The period which he 
 spent in this employment at the university, he aflervvards 
 considered as the brightest spot in his recollections. No 
 wonder, then, that he erew with rapidity, and, in a short 
 time, became philosophical and theological professor. The 
 applause given to his lectures increased from one half year 
 to another, and was grounded upon the unbribed feelings 
 of his pupils. It was also well earned, for the discourses 
 he delivered, which were not drawn from old, musty books, 
 were full of rich thought, and always worked over anew 
 every lime they were delivered. That a man who re- 
 ceived such disinguished approbation should meet with 
 some opposition, was to be expected. It is an unquestion- 
 able fact, however, that his discourses produced powerful 
 effects upon the youthful mind. Always engaged in in- 
 vestigating the subjects upon which he lectured, and con- 
 scientiously endeavoring to present his hearers with the 
 newest and the best, and truths to which he had been led 
 by the most strenuous efforts of which he was ca|)able, it 
 was natural that his lectures shoidd be thronged, and 
 should exert a great influence. The names of many are 
 now mentioned "with esteem in Germany, both as iheologi- 
 cal and philosophical writers, who received the finishing 
 part of their education under Reinhard. Some of them 
 
 Schrocliti never failed to be present when Reinhard preachfd, but used to 
 come slyly and cordially to meet me in my liiile chamber, as the latter oRen 
 related;in after years; for they agreed in their views of revelation and the 
 doctrines of the Bible. See Nilzsch <. 27 ff. Tzschirner, XLI— Xl-V. 1 he 
 meeting of these men took place, by agreement, at Worliiz, m the years 17J0 
 and 1798. 
 
 * See the Opusc. Academica. 
 
 ^ According to Martial, VI. 70^ Non est viueie, sed docere vita. 
 
118 
 
 REINHARD 
 
 ought to give us a history of their conversion, for it was not 
 seldom, in this respect, that a Polemon came to a Xeno- 
 crates. The time which Reinhard spent in the husiness 
 of teacliing at VV^ittemberg, may be divided into two peri- 
 ods : The first extending from 1778 to 1784, when he 
 was engn^!;ed in philosopliy and theology ; the second, 
 from 1784 to 1792, wiien he was ensj;aaed in theolo2:\ and 
 nonnietics, and, as provost, togetiier with his theological 
 colltiagues, was obliged, according to rule, to preach every 
 Sunday and festival in the University Church. 
 
 Of the sacred attention he paid during this period of his 
 life to all the duties of his office ; the doubts and struggles 
 through which he had to pass, before he could brirg his 
 mind to firm and saiisfactory results in philosophy ; and 
 finally, of his conscientiousness as a iheoloirian, to found 
 every thing upon the Bible, the salutary influence of which 
 he daily felt in his own heart, he has given us ample infor- 
 maiion in his Confessions. 
 
 When Reinhard commenced his career as a teacher in 
 the university at Wittemberg, there were manv very per- 
 ceptible defects in the course of instruction there pursued. 
 Hiiler, fiom the school of the great Berger, in his prime 
 justly and tridy esteemed as a lecturer in philology and 
 philosophy, had not in the former, as }et gone far beyond 
 the Rarernationen Zum Tacitus^ nor in (he latter, far be- 
 yond Wolf and Baumeister. Reinhard immediately set 
 about remedying these defects, and his lectures in both de- 
 partments, at once recommended themselves by (heir 
 charming clearness and thorf)ugh and extensive invesiiga- 
 tions. Of the lectures which he delivered at a very early 
 period, the philological upon some of Plato's dialogues, 
 and the exegetical upon the Psalms, which he always 
 translated into a rhythmical form, were looked upon by 
 the unanimous consent of his hearers, as particularly dis- 
 tinguished.* The volumes which contain these lectures, 
 
 *Amoiijr Ucinhard's postliurnous papers, there is a finished manuscript 
 upon l^haeilon, Crilon, and i'lato's ke[)ublic, tog-elher with a mullidide of 
 philolog-ical remarks upon Horace, Tnciius, &lc. extracted from his earlier 
 lectures; nlso a complete commentary upon Genesis, upon Isaiah and tlie 
 Psalms, all in the l^alin language, and seemingly prepared for the press. 
 Each Psalm is accompanied with an introduction, and translated, in an excel- 
 lent rhythmical form, inio the (ierman language, the words having been se- 
 iected with the grea'est propriety and taste, and the whole work having been 
 carefu'ly revised 'I'his revised translat'ion was published in 1813, by Hack- 
 ■cr, m the Jubilate-messe. 
 
AS A TEACHER. i 119 
 
 worked out into a very perfect slate, are still to be found 
 among Reinliard's literary remains. His lectures howev- 
 er upon particular branches of phil()S0])hy, which were 
 divided into difFt.M'ent courses, were attended by far the 
 greatest number of hearers, and their results were soon 
 made known in a variety of publications. In these lec- 
 tures, he always professed to be an Eclectic. He was 
 often urged to publish them, at least to the extent of a 
 small manual, but as he was constantly adding to his infor- 
 mation and changing them, he could not be persuaded to 
 do so, will) the exception of a few outlines for the accom- 
 modation of his pupils.* To each position he added the 
 literaluie of it, in doing which he evinced deep learning 
 and acute judgment. He was always most interesting 
 when he treated of psychology. 
 
 Reinhnrd, in the progress of his investigations, passed 
 from the strictest Crusian philosophy to that of Plato and 
 the old academy, and thence, to that of Leibnitz and 
 Wolf, between whose systems he remained for a long time 
 in a state of ptue skepticism. As he advanced, however, 
 his views continually enlarged, until he became so intimate 
 with criiical philosophy, which then comprehended every 
 thing, that, shortly before he went to Dresden, Ire wrote a 
 lecture upon it, entitled : An examination of the peculi- 
 arities and iTiost noted results of the Kantian philosophy, 
 the entire manuscript of which is still in existence. In 
 this examination, he seems to be a pure Kantian, treats 
 this philosophy as his own, and does not allow himself to 
 bring forward any objections to it. Indeed, he was at this 
 time far less consistent in his views of this philosophy than 
 afterwards, when he wrote the celebrated preface to the 
 third edition of his Moral and had penetrated much far- 
 ther into it. It is true, many of his hearers, particularly 
 those from Reiuhold's school in Jena, were dissatisfied 
 with this lecture, but it answered the grand purpose for 
 which he intended it, which was, to lead each one to in- 
 vestigate for himself. As no new phenomenon, either in 
 
 •These lee ures (ogelher with some upon natural law perfectly finished, art 
 also extant, p irily in ihe Latin and partly in the German. The acute author 
 of Aenesideinus, oneof Reinhard's pupils, by his (Irundriss der pliilosophi- 
 schen VVissensrhifKni, Wiitem. 1788—1790, has g^ven us a very lucid account 
 •f his naasler's mode of philosophizing. 
 
120 REINHARD 
 
 philosophy or theology, escaped him, and every position 
 was submitted to the most rigid examination, he did not 
 hesitate to piiblisli the results to which he arrived, in the 
 various productions of the day ; and hence, he became by 
 profession, a reviewer. The most serious''^ labor which 
 he performed in this respect, was, to review one of Seni- 
 ler's works, wbich procured for him the respect of foreign- 
 ers, and made hitn feel how much can sotnetimes be done 
 by an impartial and well sustained criticism. About this 
 time, the two Helmstadt scholars, Henke and Bruns, enga- 
 ged in publishing a work, known by the name of Helm- 
 stadt Annals, which made its appearance monthly in the 
 Latin language, and for the rich matter it contains, is still 
 justly prized. It was set up in the place of the Ephem- 
 eris, a work on single sheets, and was sustained for five years, 
 at tlie expense of tlie magnanimous Duke of Brunswick. 
 Henke baving called for assistance in tbe literary depart- 
 ment, Reinhard enriched it with a series of the most thor- 
 ough reviews, and continued to do so, until the year 1787, 
 when the work itself was brought to a close. These re- 
 views were confined almost exclusively to works upon 
 speculative and practical philosophy, and seldom extended 
 to those which lay witliin the limits of theology. Some 
 of them are so thorough, extensive, and so far exhaust 
 the subject, that they might pass for small treatises. All 
 of them might as regards worth, have been collected to- 
 gether and ()rinted as a separate volume of Rt^inhard's 
 Opuscula Acndemica. Influenced by the pan Reinhard 
 took in the Helmstadt Annals, as well as by the celebrity 
 of his writings and his talents for teaching, his fame in 
 these respects having spread all over Germany, Maimer, 
 the private councillerof Brunswick, recommended him to 
 the duke as a suitable theologian for the Hehnstadt acad- 
 emy. Accordingly, in the year 1790, he received a very 
 unexpected call to Helmstadt, with a salary nearly double 
 of what he received at Wittemberg, and other perquisites. 
 As the ecclesiastical council at Dresden appeared to be 
 taking no very active measures to confine him permanently 
 to Saxony, every preparation was made for him at Helra- 
 
 * Any one who wishes to see a list of the most distinn^uished of these r»- 
 -^iews, may consult liouiger's Delineation of Reinhard's character. Note 3G. 
 
AS A TEACHER. 121 
 
 stadt, even to the Iiirlng of a dwelling house for liis resi- 
 dence, li was not long, however, before such active mea- 
 sures were taken and pressing invitations sent frotn Dres- 
 den, to induce him to remain where he was, which, 
 together with his strong ait;ichtnent to Witiemberg, finally 
 prevailed. He therefore relinquished all idea of removal, 
 but in so doing, he made it an express condition, thai no- 
 thing should be said to him respecting increasing his salary 
 or diminishing the duties ot" his office. It has often been 
 said, that he was induced on this occasion, to act as he did, 
 by the prospect held out before him', of ultimately attain- 
 ing to the highest spiritu;d rank in Dresden. That this 
 assertion, however, is utterly groundless, every one will 
 conclude, who knows with how m;my struggles and inter- 
 nal prejudices he had to contend, before he could bring 
 himself to leave Wittemberg, and the manner in which it 
 has been refuted by the noble conference minister, the 
 count of Schonbers:. 
 
 All the pupils of Reinhard while at Wittemberg, speak' 
 of their incomjiarable teacher, says Bottiger, with a kind 
 of enthusiasm. From some gentlemen who were inti- 
 mately connected with him, and whose information can be 
 relied upon, 1 have received the following account of his 
 mode of teaching, and his habits of life at this tiuie.* 
 
 Reinhard intimately combined in himself all those qtial- 
 ifications which Viiler's, who deserve so well of Germany 
 and the reformation, several years afterwards, named as 
 requisites to constitute a suitable teacher for a Protestant 
 univei'sity.f His lectures evinced equal solidity in their 
 contents and elocution. He read lectures four, and ofien 
 five hours daily. Each of them was made ready before- 
 hand, and stitched into a small pamphlet by itself. Every 
 hour of lecturing was nevertheless preceded by the most 
 conscientious preparation. Hence, every thing he said 
 
 * Messrs. Weise, superintendent in Ilerzberg, and Kenzelmann, arrhdeacote ' 
 in Meissen botli of' ihem closely connected wiih their immorlr.l teat tier for 
 many years, and his intimate Irieuds to the close ol his life, should be htere 
 named by nae, adds Bo.ti^er, in very grateful term-;. 
 
 tCoupd'oeil surles IJiiiversiej de I' Allema^ne protestante, p. 88. This' 
 passage in wliich ihese qualities are named, may \>c seen, by consultinsf Bot- 
 tiger, iVoift 33. Ha niusi i)e moral, learned, eloquenl, acquainted with humaa 
 nature, apt lo teach, celebrated as a writer, «fec. 
 
 11 
 

 122 REINHARD 
 
 was new, and as he said it, exciting and attractive. He 
 was guided by genera! positions, which were ofien givcQ 
 out and written down in the first place. In lecturing, he 
 went no faster than his audience could hear and write 
 down what he said, without haste. His slowness, however, 
 in this respect, did not injure tl)e agreeableness of his elo- 
 cution. His utterance of itself, and his general mode of 
 address were very interesting. In addition to this, he had 
 a large fund of anecdotes, refutations, illustrations, and 
 witty remarks, with wliich he knew how to enliven his 
 discourse ; so that the most part of his audience preferred 
 listening to him with the most fixed attention, and left, 
 as they should do, the most important parts of the lecture 
 to be written down from memory after tliey had retired 
 to their rooms, this being the only beneficial method that 
 can be pursued, though it requiies the hearers to have 
 formed a previous acquaintance with the subject. The 
 copies which the students look of his lectures were multi- 
 plied for purposes of gain and sent into different parts of 
 the country, as was afterwards done with his sermons. 
 
 His lectures were dignified, but filled with doubt and 
 Socratic irony. His object, in all cases, was, to produce 
 conviction by means of the truth, and excite persons to ex- 
 amine for themselves, and engage in private study. Pray- 
 ing after others, and blindly swearing to forms, was some- 
 thing he could never endure, and which he embraced 
 every occasion to correct. Seriousness and jesting sat at 
 the same moment upon his lips. Of course, he was inter- 
 esting, and needed none of those little arts for filling up liis 
 lecture room to which many a modern Hippias is obliged 
 to resort, for the purpose of attracting the rustling multi- 
 tude. His lectures were never injured by the feints of po- 
 lemics or half-yearly excursions after wit, nor the bribed 
 approbation or extravagant praise of the worthless. He 
 was always mentioned with respect by the learned, who 
 had heard him, and been animated by him. In his refuta- 
 tions, he could inflict the sting of ridicule, though, in so 
 doing, he always aimed at the thing, not the person. Of. 
 his colleagues in Wittemberg he never made mention, ex- 
 cept when he had occasion to do so by way of commenda- 
 tion. His lectures were always delivered gratis. He put 
 
AS A TEACHER. 
 
 123 
 
 them lip, indeed, once in six months, for the sake of com- 
 plying with the law, at the small price of three dollars ; 
 but the payers, as he once pleasantly remarked, were like 
 the little streams that flow out of tlie Nile. He never call- 
 ed upon the rich for any thing, and never would receive 
 any thing from the poor. He conducted in the same way, 
 when l)e was suhject to painful want. Whenever he 
 could be, he was a eenuine Secratic. To this character, 
 however, he added the habit of close and intimate inter- 
 course with the most susceptible of his pupils. To make 
 a proper selection of them, an examination of minds was 
 necessary, and one, too, of which the mere reading pro- 
 fessor is totally incapable. As the surest means of effect- 
 ino- this, he instituted appropriate discussions, and, in after 
 yelirs, homiletical exercises, both of which he regulated, 
 and animated with his presence. Not to give some ac- 
 count of these, wo(dd be to rob Reinhard of the freshest 
 sprig of laurel he ever wore. 
 
 Twice every week, a select number of his hearers as- 
 sembled together for the purpose of disputing and inter- 
 preting under him, which exercises were regularly alter- 
 nated. The members of the association were 24 in 
 number, 12 of whom were called ordinary, and 12 extra- 
 ordinary, and, whenever a vacancy occurred, it was sup- 
 plied by an election. In interpreting, a passage of some 
 Greek, Latin, or sacred writer, was explained by a mem- 
 ber of one of the two classes. The ordinaries usually had 
 the business of criticising, opposing, and imernreiing ; the 
 exiraordinaries only that of opposing and interpreting. 
 Reinhard always distributed the parts, though he prelered 
 to leave the choice of the author to be interpreted, to the 
 members themselves. Thus, at one time, Plato's Crilon 
 and Alcibiades, at another, the Gospel of John, and at a 
 third, Virgil's Georgics and Seneca's epistles, were select- 
 ed. The master had acquired such authority, that none, 
 how much soever they trembled in anticipation of his opin- 
 ion, presumed to be unfaithful so far even as to come late. 
 Those who were destitute of courage in this respect, felt 
 the reproaches of conscience, or dreaded the wit with 
 which he usually lashed pride and youthful arrogance, 
 chose rather to withdraw themselves entirely. When the 
 
124 REINHARD ^ 
 
 interpreler had given a definite account of the passage in 
 question, and, fronn the usages of the language, froni histo- 
 ry, philosophy, and the wriiei 's peculiar mode of thinking, 
 as well as the age in which he lived, settled its proper 
 meaning, Reinhard canie forward and gave his ciiiicism, 
 in as precise terras as possible. In this case, he was al- 
 ways the advocate of those who had been attacked. In the 
 end, however, he brought both parties to his own views, 
 and, taking back what he had said in defending a particular 
 side, reduced every thing to the frur rules : A man must 
 think and explain in the mind if his author ; every writer 
 must be explained by himself; the philosopher can be ex- 
 plained, only m the sense of his school ; and a sacred wri- 
 ter only in accordance with the rules of dogmatics : and he 
 showed how seldom passages which a()peared perfectly 
 easy, had been penetrated into and fully comprehended; 
 and how often single words, which had been deemed su- 
 perfluous, had concealed the deepest sense. W6e lo him 
 who presumed to quote passages from the author or any 
 other writer, without accuracy, or merely apf^ealed to 
 foreign teslimon}-, — who would seem to dazzle by his 
 learning without thoroughness. With wonderful readi- 
 ness of memory and quickness of penetration, he exam- 
 ined the passage which had been quoted falsely or with- 
 out an object, and showed its inapf)licabiliiy, while he de- 
 manded the point to be proved, and compelled his pupils 
 to examine it as closely as possible, and render it perfectly 
 clear. The ancients, said he, had oral statutes and trea- 
 tises ; the moderns teach ^ j^^^gf^ "^^d heal by books. Skill 
 in interpreting, therefore, is indispensable to all profession- 
 al men. Indeed, law students often derived as much ben- 
 efit from these exercises, as theologicnl ; to whom, as the 
 sacred Scriptures are to be explained after the manner of 
 men, every thing in this respect, is of the greatest impor- 
 tance. The theme for discussion was always selected a 
 fortnight beforehand. Politics, philosophy and theology, 
 alternated with history and philology, in furnishing sub- 
 jects. Of these subjects, a person called a questcr, kept 
 a regular list in a book, which must still be extant. A 
 dissertation written on it was criticised on Tuesday or 
 Wednesday, and, when purified by their fiery ordeal, was 
 
AS A TEACHER. 125 
 
 submitted to the attacks of opponents. The master's final 
 opinion with his strictures and remarks upon the character 
 of the given definition, the validity of the proof, the cor- 
 rectness of the language, and the divisions of the subject, 
 was waited for with great anxiety. Often, he overturned 
 the whole fabric and erected a new and far more excellent 
 one in its stead, developing the most striking views as he 
 went on. It then seemed as if the noon-day sun had all at 
 once burst through a thick veil of clouds. The opponent 
 had certainly prepared himself as far as possible, and many 
 believed thev had learned the art of maintainins; their 
 point from the master himself. The struggle was violent. 
 Soon, however, the most obstinate was disarmed and com- 
 pelled to yield, by a series of questions, which reduced his 
 positions to absurdities, or by the application of some logi- 
 cal rule, such as, that which proves'too much proves noth- 
 ing at all. It was often the case^ that a single remark of 
 his, two or three words in length, thrown into a long series 
 of proof drawn up by the op()onent in excellent battle ar- 
 ray, entirely destroyed the whole of it. If such an oppo- 
 nent arrogantly relied upon his youthful powers, or appeal- 
 ed to sacred truths and venerable names, he certainly had 
 hard times, and in the end, as a punishment for his temer- 
 ity, was overwhelmed by the master with biting sarcasm. 
 For some lime also, Reinhnrd held a conversational exer- 
 cise once a fortnight, exclusively with the ordinaries. On 
 such occasions, he most familiarly imparted to them his 
 views upon theological subjects. The most difficult passa- 
 ges of Scripture, such as Gen. 32 : 24 — 32, 1 Cor. 11 : 
 10, were talked about, and the most noted and valuable 
 books brought from their hiding places. Before this insti- 
 tute was thoroughly established, however, it was broken up, 
 by Reinhard's removal to Dresden. A small monthly tax 
 v/as also levied upon each member of the above named 
 association, out of which a little capital was formed for de- 
 fraying the expenses of printed discussions held from time 
 to time, by way of trial, under Reinhard. They all exhi- 
 bit the spirit of the master. Some of them were defended 
 by him in his Opuscula. Others, however, clearly evince 
 their youthful origin, by their style. An irreproachable 
 moral character was an indispensable requisite for any one 
 *11 
 
126 EEINHARD 
 
 who would belong; to this intellectual association for any 
 length of time. To (his regulation, the master was able 
 inexorably to adhere, in spite of earnest entreaties and 
 sounding acquisitions. The more fiery the head and ready 
 the tongue, provided it was not guilty of mere cliaitering, 
 so much the more welcome the scholar. Nothing but 
 learning and aculeness would pass. The overseer, how- 
 ever, who knew how to draw the reins, as well as to in- 
 dulge in ridicule, led them all to the same sacred goal, — 
 to the truth. The sparks here enkindled, often burst out 
 into a flame, and continued to blaze during life. Those 
 who belonged lo this association of select persons, even 
 now, think of these genuine academical exercises in the 
 old sense of the word, with grateful recolleciions. 
 
 In the second period of Reinhard's residence at the 
 university, from 1784 to 1792, when preaching became 
 one of the sacred duties of his office, he felt himself un- 
 able conscientiously, any longer to refrain from complying 
 with the pressing invitations of the students, to enga2;e in 
 homiletical exercises. Accordingly, a little society was 
 formed for this purpose, composed of 16 ordinary mem- 
 bers, and a greater number of extraordinary. From each 
 of the ordinary members in turn, was required the plan 
 of a sermon, and a week after it was examined, a sermon 
 written after this plan, and most carefully finished. From 
 the extraordinary members was required nothing but plans 
 handed in, agreeably to a particular order. Sometimes 
 the ordinaries had to form plans and write out sermons 
 upon the Gospel texts, at others, upon the epistolary, and 
 sometimes propositions were given out for occasional ser- 
 mons. Both the sermons and the plans were delivered to 
 the president, as Reinhard was called, two days before handy 
 and on Monday evening, between five and six, he went over 
 them. It was a feast on such occasions, to listen to his 
 criticisms. Often, there were two hundred persons present,, 
 all true worshippers of Themis and Hygeia. The plans 
 were first read aloud and dissected. The authors of these 
 plans then made their appearance, and, by means of th©^ 
 Socratic art, were relieved of their difficulties, and cor- 
 rected, wherever they were wrong or indefinite, A plan 
 was generally returned with improvements, and often ac- 
 
AS A TEACHER. 127 
 
 companied with a new one. The objections of its author, 
 were solicited and the rephes lie gave, carefully weighed, 
 and fully answered by the important and acute su2g':Stions 
 of the president. In criiicising the sermons, Keinhard 
 looked mainly after logical periods, plain dignified expres- 
 sions, and correct conclusions. As he passed on, he often 
 read a period which was too long and intricate, before the 
 audience, and showed how impossible it would be, to de- 
 claim it in an eloquent mariner. The principal rules he 
 laid down were the following : The exordium begins with 
 singles, and ascends to the general of the theme. The 
 theme must be divested of all obscurity, and made as 
 specific as possible, otherwise it cannot be exhausted or 
 rendered attractive. The practical view of a subject 
 must always gain something by the theoretical. No posi- 
 tions should be proved but doubtf;:! ones, or those which 
 pre-suppose doubts. The theme must be wholly contain- 
 ed in the text, but not lie immediately upon the face of 
 it, nor be a subtility. The parts must follow after 
 each other in natural order, sustain each other, and be- 
 come clearer as they advance. The sub-divisions must 
 not be named before hand, as it will terrify the audience 
 with the prospect of a long sermon. The conclusion 
 must be as elevated and touching, as possible ; first, we 
 must have light, then heat. He made various valuable 
 reflections also, as he went along; as for instance, he ban- 
 ished hypotheses from the pulpit and would never draw a 
 proof from the apocryphal books, this being opposed to 
 the Augsburg Confession ; and hence, no allusion to any of 
 these books, is to be found in his printed sermons. What- 
 €ver he said of a psychological character was particularly in- 
 teresting; as for instance, when he advised his pupils to 
 speak with great tenderness of the sin of pleasure, as vo- 
 luptuaries will listen to heart-felt language, but run away 
 from threats. With this homiletical society, was connect- 
 ed a reading establishment, to which each member con- 
 tributed a few pence every month. Books of a theologi- 
 cal, philosophical, and historical character, to the number 
 of fifty a week, having been selected and examined by 
 Reinhard, whom nothing excellent escaped in this respect, 
 were thus brought into circulation. Reinhard's pulpit ad- 
 
128 REINHARD 
 
 dresses, however, which were of a most masterly charac- 
 ter and regularly delivered every Sunday and festival, in 
 the University Church, while he was provost, crowned his 
 labors. On these occasions, he practically exhibited those 
 precepts which he had taught with such clearness theoret- 
 ically in his preparatory exercises, liis sermons had 
 been carefully worked out and committed to memory, and 
 his action, enunciation and entire mode of address were 
 so perfect, as scarcely to leave any thing more to be wish- 
 ed for. Of course, others applied Reinhard's measure to 
 themselves and endeavored to imitate him.* His sermons 
 were certainly af)proved of by those who professed to be 
 scholars, and but few ever found fault with them. They 
 were full of soul-animating addresses, individual referen- 
 ces, and allusions, especially to the students, who took no- 
 tice of the gentlest whispers directed to them, and the im- 
 pression they produced was so great, as often to last for 
 one's whole life. It sometimes seemed as if an electric 
 shock had passed through the assembly. Especially was 
 this the effect of the concluding words of the second part 
 of a sermon printed by request, wliich he delivered on the 
 afternoon of Good Friday in 1778, from Jolin 17 : 12, en- 
 titled : Hoiv happy shall we depart^ if like Jesus we leave 
 no one behind us whom ice ought to have pitied. Rein- 
 hard, who was characterized by his severity toward him- 
 self, and his mildness towards others, has expressed him- 
 self much too severely respecting these sermons. It is 
 true, they are not adapted to a country congregation, but 
 the reason is manifest, for they were prepared for^ and de- 
 livered to^, such hearers as we usually find in a University 
 Cliurch ; and such sermons should be composed and ap- 
 plied very differently from those delivered to an audience 
 of ignorant people. Only eighteen of these sermons have 
 as yet been printed, though a handsome and very useful 
 
 * " I never heard Reinlmrd preach but once, which was a g-reat many years 
 ago. 1 well remember, however, that his enunciation was perfectly clear 
 and distinct, thoug^h I thought he spoke too fast, and observed some traces of 
 a foreig'n dialect, (pereg-rinilas,) in his pronunciation, especially in his doubling 
 some consonants, which cannot be considered as a fault, however, as Germany 
 has no Athens, Rome or Paris, to decide in matters of tiiis liind. I thought 
 his action livelier than that of most of the preachers I had then heard. His 
 gestures were generally of an indefinite character, indicating a deep sympathy 
 m his discourse rather than an attempt at visible representation." Tzscli- 
 irner's Eriele, S. 246 ff. 
 
 \ 
 
AS A TEACHER. 129 
 
 selection might be made out of them, amply worthy of the 
 public. 
 
 It was not merely as a preacher, however, thai Rein- 
 hard stood fortli as a pattern of excellence. He was dis- 
 tinguished for his genuine religions conscientiousness, and 
 by it, produced a visible effect not only upon his hearers, 
 but all with whom he had to do. A few words from him 
 were often sufficient to quell very stormy appearances. 
 He never sacrificed a single hour to pleasure, wliich Dught 
 to be devoted to his business as a teacher. He nrver 
 failed to preach every Sunday and festival when in good 
 health, the three Sundays and festivals after fasts and 
 feasts, excepted. He delivered his lectures punctually, 
 and by no consideration whatever, could be induced to 
 break in upon his firmly established order. First 7r,y duty 
 and then my pleasure^ he used to say, as he exmsed him- 
 self from accepting invitations to indulge in relaxation, or 
 take a repast with a stranger at an unseasonable hour. 
 And to what an extent did he carry his activity ! VVIiea 
 we reflect, that, in addition to the sermons he carefully 
 wrote out and delivered, and the homiletical exerci?esand 
 discussions to which, he attended, he, to the no small of- 
 fence of his more idle colleagues, read four lectures daily ; 
 that while he did so, he consciertiously attended to his 
 other academical duties, his business as an audior, and 
 the labors of the consistory, being then assessor of the 
 consistory at Wiitemberg j that at the same lime, he ijave 
 private instruction to his wife's son and others who dt'sired 
 it, carried on an extensive correspondence, and zealously 
 pursued his own studies; — when we reflect upon all this, 
 it seems almost impossible to conceive, why his body, fee- 
 ble as it was, did not sink under the burden. To what 
 has already been said of him, shoidd be added the iimo- 
 cence and simplicity of his character. He took an es- 
 pecial interest in poor students. Out of his own income, 
 he yearly applied not a small sum to the supply of their 
 wants. It is true, that from constant efforts, the serious 
 nature of his employment and the effects of sickness, his 
 countenance had acquired a degree of severity ; yet he 
 received all who requested to see him, with sincere affa- 
 bility. He never promised, however, what he could not 
 
130 REINHARD 
 
 perform, nnd hence, while at Wittemberg, he had the uni- 
 versal esteeni of its inhabitants. His domestic life, also, 
 was a pattern of excellence. While a student, and after 
 he became a private teacher, he made the severe sioddess 
 Peneia his inseparable, liousehold companion ; and even 
 after he began to lecture, took a glass of water for 
 his breakfast, a cup of coffee for his dinner, and some 
 warm food for his frugal supper. To this temperate 
 mode of living, he faiilifully adhered even after he was 
 married. He labored incessantly until 7 o'clock in the 
 evening, a little excursion in his garden ex'cepied ; from 
 that time to eight, read papers, jo-irnals, and amusing 
 works, or entertained hi'uself with tlie friends who often 
 called upon him at this hour and partook with him of his 
 evening's re[>nst. Precisely at 10 o'clock, they went 
 away and he retii'cd to rest. Thus |)assed his life while 
 at VViiiemberg. It was to the highest degree regular. In 
 addition to all this, he held the most familiar iiutrcourse 
 with the wise and good around, and, in an especial sense, 
 shared the hearty sympathy and love of a wife tenderly 
 devoted to him ; and wlien he left the place where he had 
 lived and acted so much like an unwearied |)hilanthro|)ist 
 and Christian sage, he was followed with tears of grati- 
 tude, reverence and love. 
 
 IV. Retnhard at Dresden. 
 
 In 1792, Reinhard became chief court preacher at' 
 Dresden, — a station which he occupied, u' til death. The 
 years of activity which he spent in this ecclesiastical sta- 
 tion, one of the most iuiportant as it is, in Saxony, must 
 be considered in close connexion with the coiirse ol pre- 
 paration he passed through, in teaching, preaching and 
 writing, while at the university. Without having gone 
 through such a course, he would hardly have become the 
 powerful, perfect, ever new. interesting and inexhaustible 
 orator ; the critical examiner of youths and those called 
 to teach, fill prol'essorships at the universities, and attend 
 to the cure of souls; the ever watchful, honest, wise, and 
 prudent overseer of the most important institutions of the 
 
/ 
 
 AS A PREACHER, ETC. 13| 
 
 country ; and the finished writer, thorough and splendid 
 investigaior, constant deviser of good, and paiernal coun- 
 sellor in awakening, admonishing and warning tliousands 
 at home and abroad, which he in reality did. In these 
 respects, his university life must be considered as having 
 laid the foundation of his usefulness while at Dresden, 
 though he daily grew in wisdom, experience, and perfec- 
 tion. Jn nothing, however, was he a more wordiy exam- 
 ple to his contemporaries, and in nothing is the secret of 
 his great usefulness more evidently to be sought, tiian in 
 his internal piety. Christian humility, courage in the cause 
 of truth, and his self-control ; in which respects, he un- 
 derwent do change in the several stations to which he was 
 called, but that of regular progression. I cannot here en- 
 ter into a detailed examination of all his excellencies in 
 these respects, says Botiiger, nor think of developing them 
 as a biographer should do. A few passing remarks must 
 suffice 
 
 One of the most important duties connected with the 
 station of ecclesiastical councillor, is, to hold examinations 
 in the chief consistory for licensing young men to preach 
 the Gospel. Jn performing these duties, therefore, Rein- 
 hard reaped great benefit from the acadenncal exercises 
 to which he had attended in homiletics and polen)ics, 
 while at the university. These examinations were usucilly 
 held twice a year, and always in the Latin language. On 
 such occasions, very vivid discussions took place between 
 Reinhard and the superintendents, and the room, as might 
 be expected, was thronged with persons who admired his 
 conversational eloquence, and his skill in developing 
 thought, even though they disapproved of the vivacity with 
 which the examination i'self was conducted and the learn- 
 ing displayed.* Having for sixteen years, as professor 
 and president, directed discussions with a spirit of vivacity 
 and love, and accustomed himself to dialectical forms, he 
 could not easily refrain from using them, whenever duty 
 and office presented an occasion. The lively manner in 
 which Reinhard conducted these consistorial exercises, 
 certainly did not spring from any trifling effort to please 
 
 * Reinhard was often complained of, in these respects. See Tzscbirner** 
 Rede bei Reiiihaid's Gedachiuissfeier, in Leipzig, S. 34. 
 
132 REIN HARD 
 
 the listening tnultlfude, or a want of self-control. It was 
 the natural result of his clear and quick penetration, and 
 the habits he had acquired, while at Witienriberg. His 
 only object, during the short time allotted hiu) for these 
 exercises, was, to try the mind in those things in which, 
 formulas committed to metnory, can be of no use. Hence, 
 he inquired less after the opinions of candidates, than their 
 objections. These, he sometimes apparently made his 
 own ; while he frequently supposed doubtful cases in the 
 question, and thus sought, not to show his own superiority, 
 but to give his opponents an opportunity to show them- 
 selves ; and happy he was, when he found them on the 
 right side. As his conversation assumed a very definite 
 and logical character, every skilful man readily perceived 
 what he was about, and rejoiced at his mode of proceed- 
 ing. None but the ignorant trembled before him or 
 complained of his want of forbearance, as those who can 
 hardly sustain an examination, are accustomed to do. 
 Happy the land which has such spiritual directors and 
 guardians of the ministry, as a Reinhard and a Tiitmann, 
 both of whom were prej)ared for the stations they occupi- 
 ed, not only by deep piety, but the previous course of 
 studies through which they had gone, at the university. 
 
 And how necessary to qualify Reinhard for this very 
 station, was the classical education which he had receiv- 
 ed in the ancient languages ! In the excellent and well 
 regulated high schools of Saxony, the Latin had early- 
 been cultivated to a very great degree of perfection. At 
 the Saxon universities, no one can distinguish himself to 
 any considerable degree, who is unable to read and write 
 this language with ease and elegance. Of course, a chief 
 court preacher in Saxony, whose business it is, to super- 
 intend all these institutions and their examinations, must^ if 
 he is what he ought to be, be a perfect and thorough critic 
 in this respect. It was a matter of duty, therefore, and 
 not merely of ornament, that Reinhard should be able to 
 express himself with as much beauty and fluency in this 
 learned language, as in the German. The Greek, how- 
 ever, was his favorite. He did not suffer a single year to 
 pass away without reading some books of the Odyssey, 
 which, as regards practicalness, he considered su|)erior to 
 
AS A PREACHER, ETC. 133 
 
 the Iliad, and some of Demosthenes' orations and 
 Plato's dialogues, or one of the Greek moralists, which 
 he called his preacher's Magazine. He preferred Po- 
 lybius, however, above all others. He attended closely 
 to the oriental languages of the Bible, had made con- 
 siderable progress in them, and was by no means un- 
 acquainted with the Arabic. The three principal lan- 
 guages of Europe he read with facility. All these ac- 
 quisitions, however, a thinker as he was, he looked upon 
 solely as his instrumenis. To the circle of the theologi- 
 cal sciences, with which he was acquainted in the most 
 extensive sense, '^ he added a thorough and intimate knowl- 
 edge of philosophy and history, which he considered as 
 the most important subjects of investigation and study. 
 Of the use which he made of the former in sermonizing, 
 he has told us in his Confessions. Indeed, one has only 
 to read his sermons, not even his later ones excepted, 
 to be constrained to confess, that their greatest beauty 
 consists in the philosophical truths and proofs they contain. 
 He had extended his investigations into the various 
 branches of the modern philosophy, the Idealistic as well 
 as the Pantheistic and Geological, and written upon them 
 in his letters in a strain of the most excellent criticism, — for 
 the last time, in a letter to Professor Weiss of Naumburg, 
 upon the work, Concernirg the living God. The boun- 
 daries to which he always confined himself in this 
 field, are pointed out, in what he says of his creed, 
 in his preface to the third edition of his Moral. This, 
 with which however shoidd be connected his preface 
 to Crell's Phyrrho and Philalethes, is the only place in 
 which he has published his opinion upon this subject ; 
 though, in conversation, he often expressed his aversion to 
 the phantasms, errors, and mysticisms which were inces- 
 santly springing up like weeds, in this field. He was cer- 
 tainly ready to do justice to every system and speculation 
 which did not exclude genuine piety, and, by means of so- 
 phistical arts, puzzle the minds of youth. Krug and 
 Schulz, both his pupils, and two of the most eloquent and 
 acute teachers of this philosophy in Leipsic and Gottingen, 
 
 * Doederlein pronounced Reinhard the second theologian in Germanj; 
 Reiahard's Dogaialik, Preface, ed. Berger. 
 
 12 
 
134 REINHARD 
 
 will confirm this ; and should they write down their own 
 views and experience for this purpose, would erect the 
 most beautiful monument to the memory of their well re- 
 membered teacher and friend. Psychology, however, was 
 Reinhard's favorite study, and every thing which had the 
 remotest reference to it, attracted his whole attention. He 
 was one of the most attentive heaiers of Dr. Gall's psy- 
 chological lectures in the summer of 1805, and bore testi- 
 mony to the fulness of his observations and the richness of 
 his imagination, though he shook his head ot some of his 
 deductions. To the author of a Moral giounded as Rein- 
 hard's was, and to a pulpit orator, whose object was, to 
 find something which would go home to his hearers, and 
 induce them to look into their own bosoms, this study nat- 
 urally presented a wide, most useful, and inviting field. 
 
 He dwelt more in the history of all ages and nations, 
 than many professors of history. In this case his memory, 
 always good at retaining mailers of fact, served him well. 
 For the sole purpose of completing his work Respecting a 
 trifling spirit,"^ he had, while academical teacher, read the 
 whole of Plutarch's Lives, and, with rare diligence, studi- 
 ed the sources of ecclesiastical history, in which all mod- 
 ern history originates. Schrockh was his teacher in this 
 department, and became his confidential friend. During 
 ihe latter oart of his life, he formed an intimate acquaint- 
 ance witi) John von Miiller,f whose unfeigned piety he 
 considered as a most valuable quality. He first became 
 acquainted with this man on a journey to Vienna, in 1802, 
 in the imperial library, where he found him like a lord in 
 his own dominions, and in him discovered both a political 
 and Christian brother. From that time, they constantly 
 maintained a correspondence with each other. In the 
 summer of 1806. Miiller visited Reinhard at Dresden for 
 the second time. J and hearing him preach respecting the 
 iinprovnbilily of human nature, promised to take notice of 
 
 * Ueberden K!«inigkeiis^eist in der Sittenlehre, Meisen, 1801. 
 
 t A nal've of Schafhauseii where he was born, January (he 3d, 1752, and a 
 celebrated tiistorian. author of a great number of publications. I f e firmly ad- 
 hered <o.ihe old ortli.xfox system of faith, and died May 2<)ih, 1809. His last 
 words were : Evenj thing 'which is, is from God, and erenj thing comes from 
 God. 
 
 I Compare J. v. Mailer's Letters to his brother, Werke. Th. VII. Si 41 
 and 214. 
 
AS A PREACHER, ETC, 135 
 
 the subject, in publishing his universal history ; for Rein- 
 hard asserted, that the progress of the human race was 
 most intimately connected with a belief in the improvabil- 
 ity of the individual, and that he who doubted this last po- 
 sition, could not be a Christian. Reinhard looked upon 
 history as a third revelation, giving us an account of the 
 great family of God. He would have made an admirable 
 historian had not other duties and callings prevented ; and 
 he often complained, both orally and in liis letters, that no 
 occasion had presented, for gratifying his wishes in this re- 
 spect.'^ To be convinced of this, one needs only to glance 
 at his work Respecting ChrisCs plan, which has been the 
 means of confirming thousands in the truth. This work, 
 which no one has of late more finely apprehended, or more 
 correctly estimated, than the ingenious Dr. Blessig of 
 Strashurg.-j- has long been looked upon by judges, not only 
 on account of the internal strength and the conclusiveness of 
 the reasoning, but also the genuine historical skill displayed 
 in the invention and the arrangement of the points of compar- 
 ison, as well as the newness of the results drawn from long 
 established matters of fart, as the best apology for Christian- 
 ity that modern times have produced. The first outlines 
 of this work, which was occasioned by the same attacks 
 upon the founder of Clnistianity, as Eberhard's Amyntor 
 about this time, were delivered in an academical production. 
 Soon afterwards, he received pressins: invitations from all 
 quarters, to extend them and publish them for the sake of 
 readers at large ; the result of which, was, the appearance 
 of the first edition of the Plan in year 1781, the fourth 
 and last edition of which, under the superintendence of the 
 author, was published in 1798. Particularly worthy of 
 notice is that ()art of this work added to the fourth edition, 
 in which he shows, that Jesus did not avail himself of a se- 
 cret society for the execution of his plan. The parasiti- 
 cal plan of a secret, mystical and magical society, which 
 
 *" Flad I given myself up to my inclinations, I should have cultivated no 
 field with greater pleasure, than that of history, but I have never found it possi- 
 ble to do so. The circumstances and indispensable duties of my life, have 
 always chained ine down to other labors." Thus he expressed liimseif in a 
 letter to Prof Ko lie of Jena, in I'Jll. See Kodie, Ueber Reinhard's Leben 
 und Bddung-, S. 4k 
 
 t Sur r influence de la religion proleslante — Sermon de Reinhard — avec 
 ane notice sur Mr. lieiuhard, Strasbourg, 1808, p, 50 — 55. 
 
136 REINHARD 
 
 was then flourishing hixiiriantly around the very throne in 
 the Prussian state, and which pretended that Jesus made 
 use of a secret society for the execution of his plan, in- 
 duced the author ever attentive as he was, to the signs of 
 the times, to show how entirely different He thought upon 
 the subject, who came into the world to bear testimony to 
 the truth. From this time, Reinhard seized every oppor- 
 tunity which presented, for unreservedly expressing his 
 disapprobation of the obscurities of mystical societies, and, 
 faithful to his opinion, publicly censured even those harm- 
 less societies, v.'hose internal character he could not exam- 
 ine for himself. His original object in projecting the work 
 respecting Christ's plan, however, was to give a popular 
 and historical estimation of all the proofs for the truth of 
 Christianity. His psychological essay Upon miracles, the 
 first part of which alone has been printed, was intended 
 for the beginning of it ; — a production, which also shows 
 that the autlior had the parts necessary to make an excel- 
 lent historian, and is worthy of being drawn from the ob- 
 scurity in which it is concealed. 
 
 Another proof of his talents for a historian may be drawn 
 from his Reformation Sermons. These sermons were de- 
 livered on reformation festival in the Castle, or Seminary 
 Church at Wiitemberg. Deeply affected at beholding the 
 graves of the reformers, which always stood in view, and 
 even a drunken and victorious Charles had commanded to 
 be spared,^ and glowing with the spirit of a Luther and 
 Bug;enhagen, he endeavored in each succeeding sermon 
 for these occasions, to select such a topic out of the mul- 
 titude in history, as seemed most important and calculated 
 to produce the greatest effects. Atone time, he express- 
 ed his warm and decided disapprobation of the. frivolous 
 conceitedness with which some had endeavored to under- 
 mine the doctrines of the reformation, and declared them 
 altogether untenable ; at another, he came forward and 
 boldly defended Protestantism against the objections which 
 had been raised against it, to bring it into suspicion ; at a 
 third, he showed, that the doctrine of free grace through 
 Jesus Christ, the very corner stone of the reformation, 
 
 r * Charles tVie Great. Compare Pfilitz, in Heinrich's Handbuch der Sachs. 
 Ceschichte, II. 266. 
 
AS A PREACHER, ETC. 137 
 
 had to a great extent, been rejected ; at a fonrth, in the 
 spirit of Heeren and Villers, he gave a powerful and faith- 
 ful exhibition of the results of this divine work. To do 
 this last, in a connected and well arranged manner, and 
 accompany it with notes and excursions, was a task which 
 he often atienipted, and the work carried out as it has 
 been by one well acquainted with history and possessed of 
 a kindred spirit, while it completely justifies our belief of 
 the author's historical acuteness, will be productive of the 
 happiest results.* To the same purpose, however, we 
 might quote many others of his most successful sermons, 
 in which he makes only gentle allusions to affairs in which 
 he took an interest of a kind far different from that com- 
 mon to the every day readers of newspapers. 
 
 It was Reinhard's extensive knowledge of history which 
 enabled him to execute his Christian Ethics, or Moral, 
 as he did, — a work which established his immortality as a 
 writer. f This work, comprised in five volumes, which is 
 not founded upon the transcendental speculations of any 
 particular school, but the common sense of all the cultivat- 
 ed nations of ancient and modern Europe, and hence, 
 must be of permanent value, is full of the richest psycho- 
 logical and historical remarks, and is pervaded by a spirit 
 of the most enlightened and heartfelt Christianity. It is 
 known to be the fruit of his oft repeated lectures and 
 most strenuous and conscientious investigations, while at 
 Witlemberg. Indeed, the two first parts of it were pub- 
 lished while he resided there. We may boldly say, that 
 Reinhard was the first who entered into a detailed exami- 
 nation of the great law and means for ennobling our nature, 
 and his extensive learning and deep piety certainly wejj 
 qualified him for the undertaking. Christian morality, tho 
 object of which is to make men perfect like their Father in 
 
 * C. R. Seidel, an intellig'ent publisher, of Sulzbach. Reinhard had obtained 
 possession of the eleofaiit Eiio:li.sh quarto ediiion of Roscoe's Life and Pontifi- 
 cate of Leo the X, wiili fine wooden cuts, and given it a careful examination. 
 What Seidel and Reinhard left unfinished, Dr. Tzschirner the conlinuator of 
 Schrockh's Church History, undertook to perform. 
 
 f System der Christlichen Moral, 5te Aufl. im; roved and enlarei-ed in five 
 volumes. This work is worthy of all the commendation which Bd^tio-er, from 
 whom the followino;- is taken, bestows upon it. V\'e may question whether there 
 is any thing of a similar character equ.il to it j certainly there is not in the Eng- 
 lish language, into which, barren as we are of sysleniaiical ethical works, it 
 ought to be translated. 
 
 *12 
 
1 38 HEINIIAED 
 
 Heaven, supposeshuman nature to be possessed of a grand 
 bias or inslinct for maturity and perfection.* Accordingly, 
 Reinhard's entire^.Aiora/ is founded upon nothing in itself 
 considered, but upon the safer principles of psychology 
 and the Bible. This system is perfectly consistent 
 and this work as it regards practicalness, contains 
 an inexhausiible fund of information for the edification 
 and improvement of all Christians and teachers, how 
 much so ever their speculative views and creeds may 
 differ from each other. It unites solidity with clear- 
 ness, and the most mature reading with the most thorough 
 acquaintance with the human heart. As out of regard to 
 the first purchasers he avoided maldng any essential change 
 in its original order, the latter part of it almost necessarily 
 contains some amended repetitions. As a whole, howev- 
 er, it resembles a beautiful palace, for every part of the 
 superstructure of which, the master workman made calcu- 
 lations in the foundation. It was a source of great an- 
 guish, and the last with which Reinhard had to contend, 
 that he was unable to complete this work. The two first 
 questions to which Reinhard had to attend, in Christian 
 ethics, were : M^hat is man, and what is he to become ? 
 To these questions he attended in the three first parts. A 
 third now remained to be answered : namely, By what 
 means is man to be inade, what he is to become ? or in a word, 
 to Christian ascetics, of which Reinhard at first undertook 
 to give a connected representation in the fourth part. In 
 the course of his investigations, however, carrying them 
 out as he did to every point and drinking in truth from 
 every quarter, he found himself unable to exhaust the 
 subject in one volume. He was obliged in the first place 
 to prove what has so often been questioned ; the improva- 
 biliiy of human nature. With this proof he begins the 
 fourth part of his Christian Ethics, in which he gives the 
 most satisfactory results, respecting the problem with 
 which Herder in his Ideen-f has occupied himself so 
 much ; Whether this caii be proved from the history of 
 the world'? In this case also, Reinhard shows how well 
 he was qualified for a historian. To effect this improve- 
 
 » Chrisll. Moral, Th. I. S. 54. 
 
 fldeen zu einer Philosophic der Gesch. der Menchheit, 4 Thle. Riga. 1792. 
 
AS A PREACHER, ETC. 139 
 
 ment of human nature, higher aid is necessary, as the 
 Gospel leaches us. Here then comes in the whole doc- 
 trine respecting the gracious operations of the Holy Spir- 
 it, which has so often been misunderstood by Mystics and 
 Rationalists. Of course, it was necessary to exhibit this 
 doctrine in a practical point of view. To this succeeded 
 the doctrines of the reasons and motives which lead man 
 to aim at goodness, of which he gave an entirely new 
 representation. Having then laid down five fundamental 
 poshions forjudging of the means by which virtue is lobe 
 attained, he proceeds to a lucid examination and illustra- 
 tion of them separately. Having said thus much of the 
 means of virtue, the author then enters upon what is call- 
 ed practical ethics, or ethical gymnastics ; that is, upon 
 a scientific explanation cf all the means and rules which 
 have ever been made use of or ever can be, for extirpat- 
 ing evil and implanting good, according to the precepts of 
 reason and the Gospel. Into what a field of phenomena 
 and errors, both without and within the circle of monkish 
 asceticism and of mysticism, are we here introduced ! He 
 who in company with this skilful mystagogue, passes through 
 the whole of this wonderful gallery of efForts, sometimes 
 bordering upon the most enthusiastic phrenzy, at others, 
 the most exalted self-denial, will hesitate whether most to 
 admire the extensive reading of the learned and pious au- 
 thor, his practical views, or his peculiar gift at representa- 
 tion. Faithful to the division of his subject into those means 
 of virtue which are somewhat sensuovs,'^ and those which 
 are are purely spiritual, the author continues to trace out 
 to the end of the fourth part, all the sensuous means of 
 virtue with which the nature of the subject presented him. 
 The fifth and last part, of which only twelve sheets were 
 printed at the time of his death, begins with those 5e«5u- 
 owsmeansof virtue which are expressly recommended and 
 prescribed by the Christian religion, in which, as so many 
 - memorials to his own and succeeding generations, he gives 
 
 * Sensuous, that is concerned with, or addressed to, the senses. In this 
 sense the word has been used by some late English wnlers up^ ph.'osophy 
 at least by Coleridge,-a use to which they are driven by necessity, the word 
 sensual, having nearly lost this specifical meaning, and being generally em- 
 ployed to express what is carnal. 
 
140 KEINHARD 
 
 the results of his views respecting the use of the sacred 
 Scriptures, the public worship of God, and the two sacra- 
 ments of baptism and the Lord's Supper. He then, in a 
 second division, comes to the consideration of the purely 
 spiritual means of virtue, which he has previously named 
 (§430,) which are confined in part to ourselves, consisting 
 hi collection of mind, self-examinalion, self-observation 
 and rational self-enjoyment; in pert are directed to other 
 objects, consisiing in pious contemplation, and in part are 
 directed entirely to God, consisting in the pious union of 
 feeling and prayer. He then speaks of the importance of 
 firmly adhering to productive principles and practical rules, 
 exercising a voluntary self-denial, and maintaining a care- 
 ful watclifulness over ourselves, in order to true improve- 
 ment, and concludes with the origin of true improvement 
 and the gradual approximation of men to perfection. Of 
 course, the last sheets have not received those final cor- 
 rections, finishing strokes, and clear remarks, which he 
 usually gave his works when about to send them to the 
 press ; for he was interrupted in the midst of his labor 
 by his call to a higher world. From what has been said, 
 we can easily perceive, what farther the author's plan 
 comprehended which has not as yet been carried out in de- 
 tail; for he has left the second grand division, which was 
 to constitute the finishing stone of the whole v^^ell arranged 
 and noble building, including moral pedagogics and the 
 doctrines of education, almost wholly untouched. This 
 was a work which lay near Reinhard's heart, and one from 
 which he anticipated much good, and to its completion he 
 looked forward as to the goal of his wishes. He left it 
 unfinished indeed, but the will of the Lord is done.* 
 
 'This work on Christian Ethics,' says Bottiger, 'may 
 also be considered as the rich and inexhaustible repertory 
 of his sermons, now amounting in all, to about thirty-nine 
 volumes. These sermons everv where contain clear and de- 
 finite allusions to this work, by which means its use for min- 
 isters is greatly facilitated. They constitute one of the most 
 
 * What Rei#iaid left imprinted of tlie manuscript to the fifth part of his 
 Moral, has since been published word for word as he left it, under the inspec- 
 tion of P.O. W. Graf von Hohenthal, (who married Reinhard's widow in 
 1815,) and furnished with the requisite indexes by C. Fr. Bartzsch of Pima. 
 
AS A PREACHER, ETC. 
 
 141 
 
 splendid memorials we can have, of this great man. They 
 are adapted to the wants of our German churches, are 
 rich in thought, ahound in the exposition of errors, and in 
 genuine explanations of the Bible, and to every believer . 
 in revelation capable of reading them, are invaluable as a 
 means of edification, and will doubtless exert grent influ- 
 ence in improving the human race. Indeed, thf^ may 
 be considered as a safe guide to almost every step of that 
 spiritual ladder which connects earth with heaven, and as 
 long as the German language endures, will be read, quot- 
 ed and admired, for their simplicity, elegant diction, clear- 
 ness and fulness of thought and overflowing piety. They 
 are admirable specimens of invention, easy and natural de- 
 velopment of thought from a given text, facility and reg- 
 ular progress in arrangement, and condnuing the power of 
 convincing from one position to another, and of an elo- 
 quence chaste and symmetrical in all its parts ; and are 
 samples of reasoning and strength which none but such 
 an ingenious admirer of Cicero and Demosthenes as he 
 was, could have produced. He imitated no one, but he 
 will long be imitated by persons who cannot attain to his 
 degree of perfection.^ While on a visit to one of the 
 large cities of Germany, in attending the public worship 
 of God, he listened to one of his own sermons. He 
 smiled at the incident, but he always censured those who 
 attempted slavishly to imitate his manner of preaching. 
 To those who wished to be saved, however, his sermons 
 were peculiarly valuable for their warm devotional spirit, 
 and their power to take hold of the conscience. The 
 truths they contained were drawn from the Gospel, and 
 the manner in which these truths were exhibited, and the 
 spirit that breathed in every page, were such, as could have 
 come from none but a man of Reinhard's learning, who 
 had attained to satisfying views, by passing through the 
 most violent struggles, and felt confident, that what he ut- 
 tered was from God. They are built upon the Bible, and 
 
 * Of the invention, arrangement, and composition, of these sermons, the au- 
 thor himself has imparted to us sufficient information m his Confessions. Va- 
 rious writers in Saxony and elsewhere have also g:iven them arigicl examina- 
 tion; among whom may be named, Wachter, Greiiin":, Grafe, Sciiotl, Dr. 
 Blessig, and Tzschirner. The last is very judicious and discriminalmg. See 
 Briefe, &c.S.90,ft-. 
 
142 
 
 REINHARD 
 
 as long as the Bible endures, they will be read as a source 
 of edification and consolation by all who si2;h after the 
 quickening influences of God's spirit. Many ol' them- 
 have been translated into the Danish, French, and Dutch, 
 a few into the English, and one of his Reformation ser- 
 mons was translated into the French by Dr. Ble.ssig of 
 Strasburg, a man of a kindred spirit, accompanied with 
 many precious additions. To these sermons, the author 
 devoted his clearest, brightest, and best hours. Each of 
 them cost him equal labor.' 
 
 In the year 1808, Reinhard was commissioned by the 
 highest authority, to select a new course of texts for two 
 years, which, united witli the old one, should constitute a 
 regularly returriing series for three years, to be used 
 throughout the kingdom. This n-^w course commenced 
 in 1809. The evangelical Court Church however was a 
 year ahead of the other churches in this respect. For 
 this cliurch, therefore, Reinhard was commissioned to 
 make a new selection for the year 181 1, in order that they 
 might all come together in 1812. This gave Reinhard 
 an opportunity to preach from three new series of texts 
 for three years in succession, and enabled him to speak 
 upon many subjects which he would not otherwise have 
 done ; and hence, this series of his sermons, is particularly 
 valuable and of especial importance. Reinhard was ex- 
 tremely fond of the historical texts which he liad selected 
 for the first year's course, and preached seventeen ser- 
 mons of 2;reat value upon the most useful narratives of the 
 Acts. The selections which he made for tlie churcl) have 
 since been most fully approved of, and as they had long 
 been called for by the age, cannot in the strict sense of 
 the word, be considered as his. He himself could have 
 preached twenty years longer, from the old series, as is 
 evident from a book in which he has entered his themes.* 
 
 As Reinhard had one of the niost difficult of predeces- 
 sors to surpass, even himself, the execution of his sermons 
 became yearly more and more laborious. Governed as 
 he was by conscience in every sermon he wrote, he failed 
 not to select the best subject he could deduce from the 
 text in connexion with the circumstances under which he 
 
 * Compare Reinhard's Moral, §. 360. Th. IV. 9. 
 
AS A PREACHER, ETC. 143 
 
 was to speak, however disagreeable it might "be to him. 
 Those of his discourses which were prepared for particu- 
 lar festivals of the year, are the most distinguished. Of 
 his reformation sermons, 1 have already spoken. The ser- 
 mons which he delivered on the assembling of the Diet, 
 were in a measure consecrated to political affairs, as well 
 as to ecclesiastical. The sermons which he delivered on 
 the three great fasts which are yearly observed in Saxony, 
 were mostly patriotic addfesses of a purely evangelical 
 character. As every Simday was in a certain sense, de- 
 voted to fasting and spiritual improvement, he felt it proper 
 for him to devote these fasts to admonishing his fellow cit- 
 izens to attend to the welfare of iheir native country ; it be- 
 ing impossible, as he believed, for a nation to prosper, if 
 unsustained by religion. The sermons which he delivered 
 on Michaelmas almost always had a reference to the invisi- 
 ble, spiritual kingdom of God ; those delivered on the 
 feast of Mary's Purification, often contained directions for 
 the Christian education of children. Of all his sermons, 
 however, those delivered on Maundy-Thursday, at the 
 celebration^of the Lord's Supper, were the most interesting, 
 full of reviving instruction as they were, and expressly 
 adapted to the occasion. Tt should also be added, that 
 Reinhard devoted great attention to those sermons which 
 he composed from epistolary texts during the year 1806. 
 Of course, numerous as Reinhard's sermons are and di- 
 verse in kind, there is room enough for skilful hands, to 
 make some happy selections out of them;* but to attempt, 
 as some have done, to give us Reinhard in a nutshell, is 
 the most egregious folly, and seems to come little short of 
 sacrilege. 
 
 • Such selections have bef n attempted in Germany, wilh the approlialion of 
 Reinhard's friends, especially by Dr. Hacker, the editor of many of his ser- 
 mons, and the colleag-ue next lo him in the evangelical Court Church. 
 
 Whether the English reader of Reinhard's sermons will fully assent to the 
 above remarks upon them, drawn from Botliger is a mailer of doubt. 
 They show at least the estimation in which these sermons are held l>y evang^el- 
 ica! Christians in Germany. I have chosen however to present the reader 
 with Bfittiger's opinion. Having done so, but little room is left for saying 
 any thing more. Certain it is, that Reinhard's sermons exhibit rich thought, 
 ffreat powers of eloquence, and fervent piety. 'I'hose which he delivered in the 
 latter part of his life, however, surpass those which he delivered while at Wil- 
 temberg, and those which he delivered from texts of his own selection, or with- 
 out being compelled lo rack the given lesson of the day for an apf)ropriat« 
 theme, are full of practical wisdom, glowing eloquence, and fervienl pietjr. 
 
144 REINHARD 
 
 Reinbard always preached memoriter. To do so, cost 
 him severe labor, in tbe midst of wbicb he often smiled at 
 the artificesof Mnemonics, of wbicb be at least made no use, 
 and sometimes, and justly too, became indignant against 
 those, who, out of laziness or self-conceit, neither accurately 
 conceive nor commit to memory, and thus, in a little while, 
 run witbout exception into tbe most striking superficiality. 
 And indeed, who, when Reinbard, oppressed as he was 
 by important duties, could find time to get his sermons by 
 heart, will have the face to excuse himself in tins respect, 
 by alleging his want of time ? It is wonderful, and yet 
 true, that Reinbard not only wrote out his sermons and 
 committed tbem to memory, but often preached in this 
 way three times a week, and was always perfectly himself. 
 We can account Tor his ability to sustain such labor, only 
 by the fact, tbat amidst his pains, sleepless nigbts and busy 
 days, he was a man of prayer, and drew his strength from 
 God. He always spoke with the glowing fire of eloquence, 
 even when oppressed with disease, and seemed to derive 
 the greatest benefit from the exercises of the pulpit. More 
 than half of his audience, numerous as it was, was compos- 
 ed of persons whom he had educated by preaching. In 
 this respect, he well knew the duty of a minister, whether 
 in the city or the country ; and he always maintained that 
 a minister should attend to the education of his hearers, 
 and not run from village to village. Whenever he preach- 
 ed, stenographers were employed to take down bis ser- 
 mons, and so faithfully did they execute their task, that 
 their copies often agreed word for word with the original 
 as it was afterwards printed. 
 
 Reinbard made bis duties as court preacher the first and 
 principal object of his attention ;* the numerous calls 
 
 Most of the sermons above named with special approbation, ma)' be read with 
 great profit, and it may be added, that a selection of them, if well translated 
 into English, would constitute a valuable production. Lei the reader, howev- 
 er, constantly remember the palliating' circumstances under which ihese_ ser- 
 mons were written and delivered, if he feels inclined to complain of the differ- 
 ence between them and some of our revival sermons. 
 
 * Of his zeal in this respect, some estimate can be formed from the facts, that, 
 during the three last years of his life, his physicians and friends unanimously 
 urged him to preach less frequently, as his efforts were wearing him out, and 
 that the ministers of the conference sent to him a request that he would spare 
 himself 5 but he always replied by alleging his very title, as an evidence that 
 he was called to preach. 
 
AS A MINISTER, ETC. 146 
 
 which came to him as an ecclesiastical and consistorial 
 councillor of the kingdom, the second ; the oral and writ- 
 ten advice requested by hundreds who looked to liim for 
 direction and insiruction, the third ; and his business as an 
 author, as delightful as either of the others, the fourth. 
 Dr.Tjttrnann was his only spiritual colleague, — a man equal- 
 ly honored by the chmxh, for his rare learning and fervent 
 piety. Both, having unitedly to oversee the churches, 
 schools, and universitiesof the country, had their hands full 
 of business, though they found able coadjutors and enlight- 
 ened promoters ol their plans in the public ministers and oth- 
 ers, upon whom the execution of ecclesiastical affairs in Sax- 
 ony, depend. Of Dr. Tiltmann we may say, so great was 
 his labor, that nothing but his acquaintance with business 
 and firtn attachment to the performance of duty, could 
 have carried him through it all. 
 
 Saxony has always been noted for her aversion to hasty 
 measures and reforms, and hence, often accused of adher- 
 ing to the old system of things. Whenever the imj)rove- 
 ments proposed, however, have been of a solid charac- 
 ter and have originated in conscientiousness, wisdom and 
 integrity, they have readily been introduced into the con- 
 stitutions of the church and state with which people had 
 long felt themselves satisfied, but yet with silent, cautious, 
 considerate steps, and feelings, which chose to act rather 
 than to speak. Her movements might indeed be looked 
 upon as slow in the judgment of anticipating rashness, 
 but they closed the door to every wicked Epimethe- 
 us, while they effectually opened it to every man of real 
 knowledge, judgment and information. And such a man 
 was Reinhard. He himself had doubted, examined and 
 grasped, at every thing worthy of man. He tolerated, re- 
 spected, and treasured up, the thoughts of others. In a 
 certain sense, he honored the genuine Rationalist. H« 
 treated none but half enlighteners with contempt. Mer- 
 chants and money changers he would not have in the tem- 
 ple of God, and to them all he applied the words of th« 
 angel to the Church at Laodicea. In this and several 
 other respects, he took the first great reformer at Wittem- 
 berg for his pattern. He was never guilty in any respect, 
 of persecuting or harshly treating those who thought differ- 
 13 
 
146 REINHARD 
 
 enily from himself. To every one who learnt bis own les- 
 son well, he showed kindness, while he left God to judge 
 the heart. Hence, his influence and audiority in Saxony 
 are to be estimated as much by what he prevented, as by 
 what he effected ; for few have exhibited equal Christian 
 wisdom and forbeartince. He gave his support to Protes- 
 tantism, but he hated every thing like polemics, and be- 
 lieved they always embitter without ever converting. 
 
 It is true, he was averse to all those attempts at union 
 which have been so loudly and so often talked about of 
 late years, but the reason was, that he could see nothing 
 iu the signs of the times which gave him any hope of dis- 
 covering a genuine henoiicum, while in the greatest ap- 
 proximations to such a state, he perceived only a rigid in- 
 difference, or a thoughtless sporliveness of the imagination. 
 He united in his labors with those Catholics who were de- 
 voted to the cause of truth, wrote a recommendatory pre- 
 face to Leander Van Ess's translation of the Bible, and 
 from the pulpit, charged his people to conduct with Chris- 
 tian forbearance towards those who thought differently 
 from themselves,* and he enjoyed the high satisfaction of 
 having pious Catholic writers and ministers from a dis- 
 tance, call to see him and hear him preach. He was not 
 ignorant of th6 fact, that his printed sermons and his Moral 
 were called for as much by Roman Catholics, as by his 
 own denomination, and that his works were read in the 
 Ecclesiastical Seminary at Vienna. Having always de- 
 fended a firm rule of faith and the doctrines of the Bible 
 as contained in the symbolical books of his church, without 
 refining upon them or lowering them down, he was of 
 course, preserved from difficulties, in which many honest 
 Protestants, by giving themselves up to speculations, have 
 been involved. In this respect, however, this persevering 
 man, severely handled as he had been in some critical journ- 
 als, for a sermon he preached a few years before, j had the 
 
 * See his sermon upon toleration, Jahr^. 1807. Th. II. S, 169. ff. 
 
 ■fThis sermon which has been repeatedly referred to, and was translated 
 into French hy Dr. Blessig, produced a very great sensation when delivered, 
 and called down severe censures and remarks upon its author. It is from 
 Rom. 3: 23— 25, and is entitled i Our church should never forget that she 
 owes her existence to the resuscitation of the doctrine of salvation through the 
 free grace of God in Jesus Christ. See the Sermons of 1800, Th. II. S. 270. 
 
AS A MINISTER, ETC. 147 
 
 exalted satisfaction of seeing, the erring, and those giddy 
 with new doctrines come back to a more solid basis, and the 
 periodicals of the day animated with a better spirit. 
 
 He expressed his opinion with undisguised boldness when- 
 ever piety required, or he thought it would pruve the means 
 of warning the unreflecting or improving the wicked; but, in 
 all other cases, spoke wiih the greatest caution and reserve. 
 Hence, he was always an excellent mediator and business- 
 man, for exercising his talents in which respects he had al- 
 most daily opportunities in attending to numerous appeals 
 made to him by able men connected with the universities 
 and schools, in settling difficuliies and balancing accounts 
 with other persons, in overseeing these institutions, in spe- 
 cially superintending the two seminaries in Neustadt- 
 Dresden and VVeissenfels for country school-teachers, in 
 making changes in the liturgy, in giving the opinions and 
 plans required of him by Protestants in foreign countries 
 with reference to new resjulations and ecclesiastical im- 
 provemenls, and in maintaining a very extensive and highly 
 valuable correspondence. To educate youth in such a 
 manner as to make them better for better times, and ren- 
 der them useful citizens, was one of the objects which lay 
 nearest liis heart ; and it was not seldom that his labors 
 were productive of important effects in this respect. He re- 
 joiced at the growth of the seminaries in Saxony for 
 country school-teachers, and encouraged those, who either 
 by calls or personal consecration, were actively engaged 
 in their service. To this a Dinter and a Frisch could 
 bear public testimony. The salaries of many of the 
 country school masters were silently increased, while a 
 remedy was provided for the inexcusable negligence of 
 parents in sending their children to school, and by express 
 apf^obaiion and sudden promotion, the co-operation of 
 the clergy was every where secured ; in the performance 
 of which duties, he was often pained to discover the want 
 of alacrity and conscientiousness with which many officers 
 and magistrates conducted. With respect to the citizen 
 schools as they are called, in the larger and smaller cities, 
 which were under very bad regulations, he used to express 
 himselfwithout reserve. There were then at least a doz- 
 en cities in Saxony, whose Lyceums and Latin schools 
 
y' 
 
 H8 reinhard's 
 
 were in a wretched condition and needed remodelling af- 
 ter the well organized citizen schools of Leipsic, Dresden, 
 and Naumburg ; but which, owing to the jealousy with 
 which the right of patronage was guarded, it was impossi- 
 ble to loud). He rejoiced greatly on beholding ihe new 
 fabric in Zittau, and tl]e improvements made in female 
 education in the captital and province. Thus this benev- 
 olent man continued to labor, hope and love ; faithful to 
 the sphere assigned to him, but limited only by his oppor- 
 tunities and talents in his efforts to do good, and his zeal con- 
 tinued w^ith unremitting diligence until death. His king ac- 
 knowledged his merits ; for, in 1808, when Reinhard had 
 received a very flattering call from the Prussian Court, he 
 wrote to him declaring in the most positive terms the en- 
 tire satisfaction he felt with the manner in which he had 
 performed the duties of his station. In short, within the 
 boimds of the most honest truth, we may say, that he 
 made it his constant aim to become according to the old 
 saying of Simonides, a square man in head, feet and hands.* 
 Hence, he was a firm and unchangeable friend ; and the 
 case must have been severe indeed, which made him 
 withdraw from one with whom he was well acquainted, 
 and whom, as he supposed, he had thoroughly tried. 
 
 V. Reinhard's Habits, Character, &;c. 
 
 * Reinhard,' says Tzschirner, ' presents us with a rare 
 instance of glowing eloquence, combined witli deep, ex- 
 tensive learning, and continued to the end of life. The 
 question, therefore, how he became what so {q\v have be- 
 come, the powerful orator, while he was the lliorough 
 scholar, well deserves attention. Some suggestions may 
 be made by way of answering it. Nature had endowed 
 him to an almost equal degree with the powers of thought 
 and imagination, so that he was capable both of intense 
 thinking and deep feeling. These powers were cultivated 
 by close and ceaseless application to the most improving 
 studies. His education was strictly of a philosophical 
 tendency. He read the Bible, history, and the ancients, 
 
 * See Plato's Protagoras, c. 72. 
 
CHARACTER, ETC. 149 
 
 and attended to philosophical theology. He also applied 
 himself closely to poetry, both the ancient poets and those 
 of his own native country, and read them more or less 
 to the close of life. While philosophy, therefore, the 
 mother of eloquence, guided his investigations, nourished 
 his powers, and extended his points of observation, poetry, 
 to which like all glowing minds, he. was thoroughly attach- 
 ed, though like Plato, he was wise enough to relinquish the 
 poetic laurel, exerted her benign influence upon him, an- 
 imated him, and warmed his heart. It should also be re- 
 collected that Reinhard studied philosophy by profession, 
 and hence, practically, and not as a mere closet-scholar. 
 Besides, he was always connected with the practical 
 world and had a circle of learned and sympathizing friends 
 around him. Of course, he was thus preserved from the 
 gloom, inactivity, and dulness, so peculiar to closet-schol- 
 ars, furnished with freedom of mind, and made acquaint- 
 ed with men and human affairs. All these things produc- 
 ed beneficial effects upon upon him, and served to develop 
 his oratorical powers, expand and enrich his mind, and 
 render him in almost every respect what Cicero requires 
 an orator to be.* Much of his celebrity is no doubt to be 
 attributed to the manner in which he was associated with 
 his father in early life, initiated into the classics, and 
 made acquainted with the choicest specimens of eloquence 
 in antiquity. It is true, there were many defects in the 
 education he received, both at home and abroad. Had 
 not a providential circumstance thrown Haller's poems in 
 his way, he would hardly have ever become master of his 
 own native language. At the university too, he failed to 
 attend to some of the most necessary studies. All this, 
 however, only goes to prove the natural vigor of that 
 mind which enabled him to supply all these defects and to 
 become learned, eloquent and useful, to a degree seldom 
 attained.' 
 
 The answer to the question, By what means did Rein- 
 hard, weak and sickly as he was, succeed in accomplishing 
 so much? must be sought for in his self-control, temper- 
 ance, regularity, and careful attention to business. 
 
 Always very severe towards himself, he had acquired 
 
 =* De oralore, 1. 1, var. loc. in the person of Crassus. 
 
 *13 
 
150 reinhard's 
 
 such a habit of struggling with pain, as seldom to permit 
 it to interrupt his labors. During his residence at the 
 Gymnasium in Regensburg, he was twice brought down 
 with a burning fever wliich ahnost deprived him of exis- 
 tence, and so weak was he, that his friends tried to per- 
 suade him to relinquish all thoughts of ever entering the 
 ministry. His whole life at the university was a constant 
 scene of struggling with poverty. He then had but a 
 groat* a day to live upon, and often went entirely destitute 
 of warm food. Nor did he fare much better during the 
 commencement of his professorship at Wittemberg. Great 
 earnings in this case were not to be thought of, so that 
 notwithstanding the rich feasts daily presented to the mind, 
 the poor body was often suffered to go empty. His self- 
 denial in these respects united with his great eflbrts, in 
 spite of the regularity of his life and the systematicalness 
 of his studies, unquestionably created the germ of those 
 stubborn corporeal diseases, which he bore for years in 
 silence, but which, united with the misfortune he met with, 
 in 1803, ultimately occasioned his death. 
 
 Under such circumstances would it have been strange, 
 if he had been subject to hypochondria, misanthropy, and 
 dissociableness ? And yet with all his sickness, he expe- 
 rienced nothing of the fury of the present nervous age, or 
 of hy()ochondria. The dominion which he had acquired 
 over himself by early exercise, regular occupation, and 
 pious moderation, had secured him against this demon, 
 and will secure every one against it, who lives as Rein- 
 hard did. The uncommon greatness of the man, howev- 
 er, becomes still more conspicuous, when we consider, 
 that, with all his inexorable severity and his efforts to con- 
 quer his stubborn body as he used to call it, he never be- 
 came unsociable, averse to amusement, inaccessible, pee- 
 vish, or strongly rigorous against himself. Every part of his 
 conduct in these respects was that of a rational man and a 
 Christian. He has indeed been accused of severity to- 
 wards others. He has never been complained of, how- 
 ever, in this respect, except by idlers and voluptuaries, 
 or those desirous of full reward for the most trifling merit ; 
 and with his self-control, diligence and moderation, to- 
 
 * Groscheii; a little less than a groat. 
 
CHARACTER, ETC. 161 
 
 wards such persons, he might justly be severe ; though if 
 he ever was so, it was only when the general prevalence of 
 sloth and inactivity rendered it his duty to exhibit severity. 
 At other times, he expressed himself respecting them only 
 in harmless jokes and comparisons.* 
 
 He never paid any attention to the distinctions of prop- 
 erty or employment in tliose who approached him, nor did 
 he require those who addressed him, to use other titles 
 than those peculiar to the forms of civility. Those who 
 had important business to transact, conversed with him 
 freel}^, and never saw any thing like displeasure on his 
 countenance except when, by using a multiplicity of words, 
 they robbed him of his precious time ; for to him in this 
 respect, laconism and definiteness were of very great im- 
 portance. It is true, he did not call every one a friend ; 
 but then it should be recollected, that the man of deep hu- 
 man knowledge, who has had numerous doubts and ac- 
 quired his insight into the intricacies of the heart, more 
 by closely observing himself than associating with others, 
 does not often suffer the abused name of friendship to pass 
 through his lips ; and hence, that appearance of open 
 heariedness with which the men of the world too often 
 dazzle, does not constitute a part of his character. Rein- 
 hard had attended carefully to the movements of the hu- 
 man heart,f and hence, was slow in confiding in man. The 
 Cicilian poet whispered into his ear as it did into Cicero's : 
 * Live and learn not to trust, for this is the nerve of xvis- 
 dom.^X ^^ scorned however to veil his mistrust with the 
 polished mask of the man of the world. Nor did this 
 prove prejudicial to the goodness and innocence of his 
 character. The pure heart cannot give itself up freely 
 and happily to a man's friendship, until it has tried him ; 
 and as soon as Reinhard had done so, he evinced himself 
 susceptible of the most noble, generous, and joyful im- 
 
 * He frequently compared idlers and voluptuaries with the Phaeaces of Ho- 
 mer. It is probably owing to the severity of Reinhard's character, that he 
 was often complained of, as haughty and proud. Those who made these com- 
 plaints were certainly unacquainted with the man. 
 
 t To be convinced of this, compare Jahrg-. 1796, Pred. I. 249, entitled. 
 Every man has Ids value, a sermon said to be one of the most perfect that 
 modern eloquence has produced; also the preface to the 2d ed. of these serm. S. 
 Vni, and his very valuable work already mentioned, respecting a trifling spirit, 
 
 t Polybius, Vol. VHI. p. 375, ed. Schweigh. 
 
152 reinhard's 
 
 pressions, possessed of every genuine, social virtue, and 
 capable of giving and receiving all the spice of life. Se- 
 riousness constituted his prevailing trait and generally sat 
 upon his countenance, but never to such a degree as to 
 frighten others away from him or disturb their pleasure. 
 He embraced the whole human family in his grasp of phi- 
 lanthrophy and fraternal love, was often deeply affected on 
 reading the events of a newspaper, sympathized in every 
 thing relative to the learned, his fellow citizens, his friends, 
 and the great fable of man,"^^ and would gladly, were it in 
 his power, have blended all the interests of tliose whom he 
 knew so well how to describe, into one. 
 
 He was a spirited companion and excellent in conversa- 
 tion. The weapons of dialectics which he knew how to 
 use with such effect in his examinations and oratorical 
 exercises, in such 'cases also served him an excellent pur- 
 pose, furnished him with witty turns and remarks, and ren- 
 dered him victorious without wounding. His faithful 
 memory retained an abundance of pleasing and interest- 
 ing narratives which he told with great animation and ef- 
 fect, and he was daily drawing new ones from reading 
 the ancients and moderns, and hence, was in no danger of 
 making repetitions. He was very agreeable in jesting, and 
 fond of pithy turns and witty remarks on public occasions, 
 and had a quiver full of them himself, though he made a 
 cautious use of them ; by taking which course, he preserv- 
 ed his own dignity, and always remained within the bounds of 
 the strictest politeness, while he added to the enjoyment of 
 the table. At the richest meals he never transgressed the 
 bounds of moderation, and oftener than otherwise suffer- 
 ed plates, dishes and salvers to pass by him untouched, 
 frequently saying in the confidential circle of his friends, 
 j that he did not live to eat, but he eat to live. Hence, on 
 such occasions, he had more time for conversation than 
 most persons, and he improved it, being as Cicero says of 
 himself, a man of less food than wit. His house was a 
 temple of hospitality, genuine but not splendid. He usual- 
 ly partook of a Soeratic meal at home, for he was unwil- 
 ling to accept of invitations to go out on account of the 
 
 * Hanc quasi fabulam eventorum nostrorum, Cicero ad Div. V. 12, 19. 
 
CHARACTEK, ETC. 1^3 
 
 loss of time it occasioned. There in his own little compa- 
 ny he exhibited his open heanedness and joyful demeanor, 
 and diffused pleasure throughout the room. ^ ^ 
 
 He was ever active in business, but his activity was not 
 of a tumultuous, extravagant character, reck ess ol the 
 laws of nature, and calculated to exhaust and ulumately 
 annihilate the body. On the other hand, the day was di- 
 vided into the most regular order, and in such a manner as 
 to save the most time. Every hour had its destination. 
 From this order, he was always umvillmg to deviate. As 
 soon as the hour arrived he went about his business, as 
 soon as it had elapsed, he left it; nor could the choicest 
 company chain him bevond the s.ated period. l\or was 
 he mechanical in his habits of this kind, for his labors were 
 alternated with reading, writing, study, walking, &lc., so 
 that the day was agreeably diversified, while his strength 
 was preserved from one day and hour to another lor reg- 
 ularly prosecuting his work.* 
 
 He awoke nrecisely at six o'clock, and arose without 
 fail as soon as he awoke. The winter produced no change 
 in this respect. The first succeeding hour was devoted to 
 his most difficult and sacred task,— to cornmitting to mem- 
 ory the sermon which he was next to deliver, which he be- 
 2;an to rehearse on the morning after he last preached, and 
 which had been written a week beforehand. As soon as 
 he had entered his study, he repeated what he had gotten 
 by heart, in order to connect it immediately with what lo - 
 lowed. While he was going through this process, he took 
 a cup of coffee, and a servant entered and dressed his 
 hair, which he had never been able to exchange for a 
 peruke, notwithstanding the violent remonstrances made 
 with him at first, respecting it.f When this was done, he 
 dressed himself without the aid of a servant, prelerrmg m 
 this respect to maintain the simple habits of his earlier 
 years, and that independence for which the Greeks and 
 princes of the heroic age were so distinguished. When 
 
 * Tzscliirner's Hriefe, T 
 
 * Tzscnirner's l^rieie. i. 
 
 tReinhard brought bacl< to Saxony the fV^'T "^ ^'"'^''Thl'nTe'fiS 
 their own hair. H.'s want of a peruke excited loud murmunnss "h^" ]>««?; 
 emered the faculty at W,lteml.er?. He rephed, however, ^V P— S J" ^h^ 
 pictures of ihe great reformers, and sliowing that tlie custom of wearaig taJse 
 
 hair could not be supported by history. 
 
154 reinhard's 
 
 this division of the day had elapsed he passed to reading 
 the Scriptures, to him ahvays the word of God, with which 
 he consecrated himself to the work hefore him, and often 
 connected a prayer, that they might be formed in his soul 
 in spirit and in truth. For this purpose he usually select- 
 ed some definite portion of the New Testament. The 
 Psalms and the prophet Isaiah were his favorite books in 
 the Old Testament. On such occasions, having a thorough 
 knowledge of the Hebrew and its cognate dialects, he al- 
 ways used the original languages, and he derived as great 
 and varied pleasure from this exercise, as a philologist 
 does from the perusal of a favorite Greek or Latin poet for 
 the fifth or the tenth time. It was the divine character of 
 what he read, however, which gave him his greatest pleas- 
 ure, animated his heart, and rendered this a truly devo- 
 tional exercise. To reading the Scriptures immediately 
 succeeded the labor o( his calling, such as reflection, and 
 composing a sermon, to which work he usually applied 
 the last half of the week, as then he had no sessions to 
 cittend, or reading the acts for the church and the chief 
 consistory. During the three days of the session, the rest 
 of the morning was usually devoted to the sessions of the 
 board. The last hour of the forenoon, dm^ing the two 
 first days of the week when there were no sessions, was 
 statedly devoted to speaking. During the few moments 
 allotted to dinner, he usually gave the latest political 
 newspapers a hasty examination, and twice a week 
 spent some time after dinner in reading the latest public 
 journals. On other days, this time, wasted by so many 
 in the arms of sleep, was chiefly spent in reading his- 
 tory. In every thing new that came before iiim, he al- 
 ways distinguished what he bad read through, from W'hat 
 he had merely turned over. Whenever he found any 
 thing worthy of an attentive perusal, he noted it down in 
 a book kept for the purpose, a practice which he continu- 
 ed until his last sickness, but of what he hastily [)assed 
 over, he took no notice. He seldom took notes of any 
 thing he read, except when it had some bearing upon his 
 Christian Ethics. This arose in part from his frugality of 
 time, and in part from the confidence he had in the good- 
 ness of his memory for retaining matters of fact. Towards 
 
CHARACTER, ETC. 155 
 
 thrfee o'clock, he returned to writing and other business. 
 If his health periniited, during the latter part of the after- 
 tioon he took an excursion in the open air, — an excursion 
 which he was unwilling to omit even in unfavorable weath- 
 er, but which, to save time and shun observation, he 
 often took in the evening. While at Wittemherg, af- 
 ter his marriage, when he had a carriage at command, he 
 usually took a short ride with his friend Schockh, in the 
 open air, in the course of the afternoon. During the ear- 
 lier part of his residence at Dresden, in compliance with 
 the precepts of physicians and in obedience to the univer- 
 sal prescription so much extolled by Klopstock, he substi- 
 tuted riding on horseback for walking, being furnished with 
 a surefooted horse out of the royal stables for this purpose, 
 but after the breaking of his leg in 1803, he could never 
 be induced to mount a horse again, though he was ear- 
 nestly intreated to do so, especially by his beloved brother- 
 in-law. Lieut. General Baron v.Thielmann, who promised to 
 be his faithful guardian, and a compliance with the request 
 would doubtless have prolonged his valuable life. He al- 
 ways found these excursions invigorating and refreshing, 
 and well calculated to prepare him for the enjoyment, if 
 not o{ a painless and undisturbed, yet of a tolerable night's 
 repose. 
 
 In the summer, which Reinhard generally spent at his 
 residence in Wilsdruf one of the suburbs of Dresden, he 
 used to walk for an hour about six or seven in the even- 
 ing, up and down in his garden. Susceptible as he was of 
 all the beauties of nature, he considered this a most de- 
 lightfdl retreat. Here he was surrounded with the choic- 
 est of Flora's children, collected together from all climates, 
 each in its proper place invhing him to silent contempla- 
 tion, especially the pink, carnation and tulip, with whose 
 ever varying beauties he was particularly delighted. In 
 one part of it, there was a circular arch, formed of the 
 thick foliage of leaves, in the midst of which there was 
 a living spring. Here, beneath the cooling shade, dur- 
 ing the warm evenings of summer, the tea-table was set, 
 around which, a few confidential friends united in social 
 intercourse. On the one hand, it was adorned with works 
 of art, on the other with an apiary and its busy inmates. 
 
156 reinhard's 
 
 Not far ofF, stood a green house, in which there was 
 a cabinet easy, to be warmed through, to which resort 
 was had in the cold days of the season.* Of course, 
 Reinhard was driven from this pleasant retreat in the 
 winter, but he found an excellent substitute for it in his 
 library, in the upper apartment of his official residence 
 in the city, which was now nearer at hand. This he con- 
 sidered as his treasure-chamber, and going up to it and 
 returning from it furnished him with agreeable exercise. 
 It contained not a single useless production, was well 
 selected, received continual additions, and, together with 
 his papers, was always kept in the highest order. 
 
 When Reinhard had no guests to wait upon, he usu- 
 ally passed the evening in reading or writing in his study, 
 almost always pursuing the same order, until about eight 
 o'clock ; when he was called to his frugal repast. Dur- 
 ing this time, he wrote his more important letters. Those 
 of his letters relating merely to visits and the duties of 
 his office, he dispatched in those fragments of time which 
 others idle away. 
 
 Reinhard however had a great number of letters to 
 write upon theological, literary, and other important sub- 
 jects, which were altogether dry and unattractive, and 
 yet required extensive preparatory investigation. Saxo- 
 ny, long distinguished for her men of learning and acute- 
 ness, had had more literary characters than any other 
 German state, in whom had been awakened the desire 
 of authorship. Called as he was by the station he oc- 
 cupied, to exercise a general superintendence over the 
 institutions of the country, it was natural that his opinion 
 should be sought for by all who carried this desire into 
 effect. Hence, of almost every work great or small, in 
 his department, published in Saxony, and of many pub- 
 lished in foreign countries, during the last twenty years 
 of his life, numerous as they were, he received a copy 
 from the proprietor or author, with an earnest request 
 for a preliminary notice or essay. With critical insti- 
 tutes, from the moment he became general superintend- 
 ent, he refused to have any thing to do. To the re- 
 
 * A vQxy m\nute description is given by Botliger, of Reinhard's garden, 
 which seems 16 have been an elegant one, and was occasionally honored with 
 poetical descriptions in Latin. 
 
CHARACTER, ETC. 157 
 
 quests he thus received, however, he conscientiously at- 
 tended, vviihout respect to person, knowledge or country; 
 for he made it an invariable rule to write a friendly 
 letter to every author of such requests, in which he 
 either approved of ihe work or kindly pointed out its 
 errors ; and many there are in Saxony and elsewhere, 
 who must acknowledge themselves greatly indebted to 
 his counsel and encouragement in this respect. For- 
 eign sermons were the only things he was unwilling to 
 meddle with, though, being censor for Dresden, it was 
 his duty to do so, and he has often been accused of 
 negligence with respect to these publications ; but call- 
 ed upon to examine thousands of works as he was ev- 
 ery year, it was natural that an occasional sermon 
 should sometimes escape his notice. To all this, add 
 the advice in cases of conscience, which was often re- 
 quired of him, especially by persons of rank ; the num- 
 erous letters he received- in consultation respecting eccle- 
 siastical ani literary affairs, to all which he gave de- 
 tailed, conscientious replies, and often with the happiest 
 results ; and it will be easy to perceive that his corres- 
 pondence was very extensive and required much lime. 
 Reinhard's supper was as simple as his dinner. He 
 drank nothing but a glass of wine mixed with some wa- 
 ter and seldom eat of more than one dish, though sev- 
 eral were set on the table. At tea, be usually met with 
 friends, and strangers from a distance, who, passing 
 through the place, had called upon him as a matter of 
 old acquaintance or by letters of recommendation, with 
 whom he indulged in lively conversation and pleasing 
 turns and remarks. " Thanks to God," he used to say, 
 on such occasions, " sanctify, and pleasing conversation 
 adds spire to, every dish." After tea, if no visiters 
 were present, he used to play a lew tunes upon a harp- 
 sichord which always stood in his parlor, in doing which, 
 he generally gave himself up to his own imagination. 
 As he was very fond of sacred songs and by the se- 
 lections he made of hymns for his sermons, showed 
 that he knew when they were lyrical, and used fre- 
 quently to play some fine choral song, always singing as 
 he played, from the strain of his music it was in general 
 easy to ascertain the discord or the harmony of the deep- 
 14 
 
158 reinhard's 
 
 est feelings of his soul, and the general character of the 
 thoughts which occupied his mind. Often, when in writ- 
 ing or meditation, he found himself perplexed with a 
 train of thought or unable to develop it with sufficient 
 clearness, he ran out to his harpsichord in the parlor, 
 and generally not in vain; for a few touches upon it re- 
 duced every thing to calmness and regularity. After 
 preaching also, he used to refresh himself by playing 
 some spiritual vohmtary upon this instrument, giving him- 
 self up to the feelings which pervaded his heart. An 
 accomplished musician or player he did not pretend to 
 be. In his youth while at Regensburg, in private con- 
 certs, he had played the second violin, and under the 
 instruction of the distinguished Kiistnep, had made con- 
 siderable progress in playing upon the harpsichord. Af- 
 terwards, however, the serious business of life left him 
 no time or desire for playing agreeably to *he rules of art. 
 He generally closed the evening by reading, or causing 
 his wife to read for him, some easy, enlightening, sooth- 
 ing piece; this presenting him with the advantage of 
 permitting all effort to cease, and agreeably preparing 
 the way for sleep. Only when greatly pressed with bus- 
 iness, and hence, in extraordinary cases, did he take up 
 his pen after supper. By the rules of his harmonious 
 and strictly regulated life, all study by the midnight 
 lamp was wholly forbidden. 
 
 Reinhard never had any children of his own, but yet 
 he showed himself in the tenderest sense, the child's 
 friend. Several of his sermons, particularly those preach- 
 ed on fasts and the assembling of the Diet, treat expressly 
 of the education of children, and contain genuine Chris- 
 tian rules for governing them in a proper manner, though, 
 for reasons easy to be comprehended, he always laugh- 
 ed at the numerous pompons professions of modern ped- 
 agogics, and felt some distrust in Peslalozzi's method of 
 instruction, at least in the universality of its application. 
 He always embraced the diligent youth of the high school 
 at Pforte in the arms of real paternal love and called 
 them his sons. For many of the youth in the schools 
 and universities of the coutitry, he exhibited the assid- 
 uous and faithful care of a father. Like all men distin- 
 guished for their greatness and goodness, he delighted to 
 
CHARACTER, ETC. 159 
 
 see the pure happiness and the simple plays of active little 
 children. Only a few days before his death, he spent 
 some time with a kind lad, one of his relatives, who had 
 been brought up almost under his eye, in urging him to 
 attend to pious instruction, as h? was one year older. 
 To those in want he was always very liberal. Many 
 were the calls he received from the wretched who await- 
 ed for him in their places as he passed along the street, 
 nor were they ever left unsatisfied. From the pecuni- 
 ary aid thrown into charity boxes on particular days on 
 which he preached, he had for good reasons as he 
 thought, added to the amount of his spending money, un- 
 til it enabled him to support one hundred and twenty 
 poor people. The assistance, however, which he receiv- 
 ed in this w^ay was very small, and he increased it by 
 various extraordinary contributions. His name was to 
 be found on every subscription list for a benevolent ob- 
 ject, and in liberal terms. He did not confine his be- 
 nevolence, however, to the poor with whom he was im- 
 mediately surrounded. He sent forth his contributions 
 in every quarter, for, from all quarters he received press- 
 ing solicitations for contributions. Many in urging their 
 claims upon him, might degenerate into obtrusiveness, 
 but he gave still. Ingratitude did not cause him to err, 
 or withdraw his kindness. Respecting the worthiness 
 or the unworthiness of the objects of his charity, he 
 seldom entered into any very minute or extensive ex- 
 amination. The man needs it now ! that satisfied Rein- 
 hard ; for though he honored nice calculations and in- 
 quiries in booksellers and the stewards of public institu- 
 tions of benevolence, he did not in the giver. When- 
 ever contributions were called for to meet ivants created 
 by some great and sudden calamity, whether at home or 
 abroad, he always came forward among the first and most 
 generous. The fire at Regensburg in 1809, and the 
 powder explosion at Eisenach in 1810, excited his 
 most tender sympathy. To Luther's monument, how- 
 ever, he contributed very unwillingly and only a single 
 piece of money ; < for,' said he, * every new reformation 
 festival and every verse of his translation of the Bible, 
 renders this superfluous.' Indeed, he foretold the fate of 
 this contribution with almost prophetical certainty, for it 
 
160 ' reinhard's 
 
 was lost in and with Magdeburg. He contributed with 
 the greatest generosity and pleasure, however, to the sup- 
 port of new schools and institutions of instruction, and, 
 though he considered the system of giving stipends as 
 in many respects defective, as it gives rise to abuses and 
 hypocritical pretensions, yet he yearly disposed of con- 
 siderable sums by way of stipends to poor students,vvho were 
 either his godchildren or had been recommended to him. 
 
 To selfishness, that rust of little souls, as well as to 
 envy, prejudice, and partiality in promotion, this great 
 man was equally a stranger. Indeed, he was often heard 
 to speak with satisfaction of the fact that he was child- 
 less, and as a stranger, must be entirely free from the 
 most gently whispered suspicion of having favored 
 his relatives. The man who conducted as the fittest 
 and worthiest, God only being thoroughly acquaint- 
 ed with the heart, was always his favorite. Such an 
 one he considered as his friend, while he counselled, re- 
 commended, and assisted him as far as it was in his 
 power. He seldom took any thing for performing the 
 duties of his office. Whatever he received in this way, 
 he almost always handed over to the colleagues next to 
 him in rank in the evangelical Court Church. He would 
 scarcely ever receive any thing but books from his pub- 
 lishers for some of his choicest productions. All that 
 he required of them was, to sell his works at a mod- 
 crate price. They did so, and this accounts for the in- 
 crease made in the price of subsequent editions. In- 
 deed, he almost absolutely and unconditionally gave 
 many of them away. The sum of three hundred dol- 
 lars, which, according to the constitution, he received for 
 every sermon he preached on the assembling of the 
 Diet, he devoted to some pious object. In 1811, he 
 disposed of it as a small premium-fund for diligent 
 alumni, at St. Afra. For a sermon which he deliver- 
 ed on the third Advent Sunday in the University Church 
 at Leipsic, in 1808, he was offered various and large 
 sums, but he disposed of it for a work which was not 
 in the university library, but which was to be presented 
 to it by the publisher. Of course, he never made men- 
 tion of these circumstances. 
 
 Reinhard had exalted views of the marriage state. 
 
 V<' 
 
CHARACTER, ETC. 
 
 161 
 
 Upon this subject he was wont to say with Luiher, one 
 of his favorite authors; *a pious, humble, sympathizing 
 and domestic wife, with whom a man can livo satisfied 
 and happy, and to whom he can intrust his property 
 and whatever he has, yea his life and body, is one of 
 the highest and best gifts of God.'* Of the truth of 
 this he was well convinced from experience ;f for he 
 had two wives in the course of his life, who constantly 
 stood by him, and, like genii, attended to all his wants; 
 without whose aid it would have hardly been possible 
 for him to attain to such perfection as he actually did, 
 in observing the principles of virtue and happiness vvhich 
 he had selected as the rule of his conduct. His first 
 wife was the widow of the learned theologian, John Chr. 
 Schmid of Wittemberg, his former teacher and friend, 
 well knownj even in foreign countries, for his applica- 
 tion of his knowledge of French to theological purpo- 
 ses, and his defence of the C anon of the sacred Scrip- 
 tures. Reinhard had been an inmate of this man's 
 family and derived much benefit from intercourse with 
 him and access to his select library. He was well known 
 therefore to Mrs. Schmid, who, on the death of her 
 husband, considered this poor young professor, then 
 just entering his academical career, splendidly distin- 
 guished as he was for his lectures, and remarkably strict 
 and exemplary in attending to religion and the per- 
 formance of his duties, as of all others the most de- 
 serving of her hand; and hence, resolved to go with 
 him through life. The marriage was a happy one, 
 though not of long continuance, for Reinhard lost her 
 and her son, whom he loved exceedingly, and had taken 
 great pains to instruct, the second year after his remo- 
 val to Dresden. She possessed a feeble constitution, 
 but a well-educated and matured mind, united with no- 
 bleness of soul, sound judgment, and a discriminating 
 knowledge of men and things, and was highly interest- 
 
 • See Bredow's Katharine von Boren, Minerva aufs Jahr, 1813, S. 327. 
 
 t See his precious sermon Respecting a disposition for the domestic virtue»f 
 (vom SinnefUr die Hauslichkeit,) Jahrg. 1801, I. 47, with which compare 1ms 
 Moral, III, 309—461 } IV. 694. 
 
 J Saxii Onomasticum, T, VII, p. 222 ff. 
 
162 REINHARD S 
 
 ing and profitable in conversation.* To the not incon- 
 siderable property which she brought with her, Rein- 
 hard was indebted for the greater security and inde- 
 pendence he enjoyed after her death in those relations 
 of life which he was called to sustain. 
 
 For his second wife, Reinhard selected the daughter of 
 Von Charpentier, captain of the mines, and immortal as a 
 mineralogist and metallurgist in the annals of Freyberg, 
 and the history of the art of mining. She was of a fami- 
 ly distinguished for the union of uprightness and hospitali- 
 ty with the finest sense of art, and frequented by men of 
 genius from both the north and the south of Germany, — 
 was amiable, full of soul, blessed with excellencies of body 
 and mind, and adorned with the female virtues. She 
 carefully studied the character of her husband, and en- 
 deavored to render his troublesome life, easy, useful and 
 happy. Indeed, as Reinhard's study door generally stood 
 open, so that his study and parlor constituted as it were but 
 one room, she may be said to have been always present 
 with him while he was engaged in his domestic business ; 
 never interrupting him, but ever faithful, watchful, and ten- 
 derly attentive to his w^nts. He could not feel solitary 
 while she was about him. Sometimes she acted as his li- 
 brarian, and directed his letters, at others as his travelhng 
 marshal. f She read, sung, or played to him on the harp- 
 sichord to comfort him when weary, and watched over him 
 with the tenderest, most affectionate solicitude in his sick- 
 ness, and to the last moment of his life, seldom calling to 
 her aid the assistance of others, but presenting herself dai- 
 ly and hourly at his bedside, in a manner which fully 
 evinced the real pleasure she felt in being there. To 
 her extraordinary efforts in taking care of Reinhard, we 
 
 * He doubtless had her in view, when he wrote the passage : Animadverti 
 feminas — celeritate iudicii viris non raro et multum antecellere3 Opusc. 
 Acad. II. 177 seqq. 
 
 t Reinhard practised what he himself has recommended in a physical and 
 ascetical respect, (Moral, IV. 618 ff.,) as a means of restoring- and invig-orat- 
 ing- the system ; namely, journeying. From 1^95 to 1803, he made a journey 
 every summer, in addition to those which he was obliged to make in perform- 
 ing the duties of his office, and always in company with his faithful and belov- 
 ed wife. On one of these occasions, he formed an acquaintance with the Mo- 
 ravian Brethren; on another, visited his native place ; on a third, renewed the 
 scenes of his youth at Regensburg or Ratisbon as it is usually called in Eng- 
 lish ; on a fourth visited a sister, married to a clergyman settled in Lower Sax- 
 ony ; cmd in 1802, he visited Vienna, where he spent several weeks, — a jour' 
 ney which he afterwards ever mentioned with the greatest satisfaction. 
 
CHARACTER, ETC. 163 
 
 are, humanly speaking, indebted for the preservation of his 
 life from the year 1803,* and the blesi,ing he proved dur- 
 ing a space of nine years, in preaching, writing and other 
 labors, not only to Saxony, but to tlie whole Protestant 
 world. With justice did he call her his guardian angel. 
 Often in moments of severe anguish did he speak of her in 
 grateful terms, and as his end drew near, return thanks to 
 God for having sent him such a faiihlul nurse to pray and 
 suffer with him, alieviate his pains and fill him with such joy 
 and consolaticm. Nor will otliers soon forget her. Where- 
 ever tlie German language is spoken, Reinhard's sermons 
 produce their legitimate effects upon the heart, and any 
 are left to rejoice at his lengthened activity, the name of 
 Ernestine Reinhard and her domestic devotion will be 
 mentioned vvitli reverence and gratitude. 
 
 But here we must draw this imperfect account to a close 
 and take our leave of Reinhard and the reader. We 
 might indeed dwell longer upon his character with delight, 
 but time and space forbid. ' What has been said respect- 
 ing him,' says Bottiger in the preface to the work from 
 which most of the preceding account has been taken, ' has 
 been drawn from the most authentic sources. 1 have been 
 intimate)) acquainted with him since 1804, and have consci- 
 entiously endeavored to exhibit him as he appeared tome. 
 He was indeed a man and doubtless sometimes erred, but I 
 have never discovered a secret fault in him, and half of 
 Europe acknowledges his excellence as a Christian and a 
 scholar. With him theory and practice were united. He 
 had not two coats or two faces, one for private life and an- 
 other for the public. He did not speak every thing he 
 thought, but he always thought as he spake, and was con- 
 sistent in his convictions and actions, until death. His 
 most bitter enemies have never suspected him of being in- 
 fluenced by selfishness, and all my acquaintance w ith him 
 goes to prove what I hope has already been rendered ap- 
 parent, that his activity did not originate in ambition, but in 
 the most conscientious zeal for the cause of God and the 
 good of man.' 
 
 He was distinguished for wonderful activity and genuine 
 
 . « 
 
 * He has erected a public memorial to her care and assiduity in watching 
 over him while he was confined in Chemnitz m 1803, during- which painful sea- 
 son, she was his only nurse, day and night. See Jahrg. 1804, Pred. I. S. 16. 
 
164 reinhard's 
 
 piety, a cliildlike goodness and amiableiiess of heart, as any 
 one must be convinced who has attended to what has been 
 said respecting l)in[i, — was always mild towards oihers but 
 severe towards himself, and marked with genuine humility. 
 True Christian feeling pervaded his very soul. He resem- 
 bled John in love, and Paul in zeal and firmness. A sin- 
 cere minister he used to say, must, like the coat of Christ, 
 be without seam or patch-work. He made it his object 
 from his earliest years, to exhibit a holy and just consistency 
 in acting according to immutable principles, and to main- 
 tain that uniformity of character through life, which is so 
 much extolled by Cicero. Hence, he was utterly averse to 
 all half measures whether in great things or small, even in 
 improving the liturgy ; firmly opposed those notions which 
 make virtue a periodical concern graduated by the ther- 
 mometer of effervescing feelings; could not toleiate that pro- 
 lixity wliich creeps around duties and promises, and hated 
 inactivity as the very gate of Hades. Humble before God 
 and man, and from his heart convinced of the imperfec- 
 tion of all human efforts, his only wish was, to work while 
 it was day, and to be found engaged in his master's business. 
 To man the holy ardor of his soul has ceased to glow% the 
 powers of his mind to expand. All that was mortal of him 
 has been conveyed away from the view of weeping friends 
 and mourning thousands, to the silent tomb. His sun has 
 ceased to shine, but it has gone out in the surpassing splendor 
 of the Sun of righteousness. His example, however, still 
 lives upon earth, in his own eloquent language we may say 
 of him : " Noble friend of truth and goodness, God has 
 called thee, but death shall not stop thy influence. From 
 generation to generation shall the light which thou hast 
 enkindled and increased, stream forth in new and more 
 brilliant rays. From generation to generation shall the 
 feeling wliich thou hast excited, the virtue which thou hast 
 planted, the piety which thou hast cherished, the Christian 
 love which thou hast extended abroad, remain rich and 
 inexhaustible sources of blessing to mankind, and continue 
 to exert their benign, their hallowed influence, when thy 
 name has faded from the world."* 
 
 * Jahrg. 1801, Th. I. S. 449, This passage was repeated at the solemniza- 
 ^on of Reli.liard's death in Chemnitz, Dec. '20, 1812, and produced a visible 
 effect. It is from Mark 16. 14—20, and treats of the salutary influence whicb 
 should he e>;erted by Chrisliaus upon earth alter their death. 
 

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Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library 
 
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