YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE LIBRARY OF THE DIVINITY SCHOOL HISTORY OF THE CHURCH Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. By K. E. HAGENBACH, D.D., PSOFRSSOS OF THEOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF BASLE. TRANSLATED FROM THE LAST GERMAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS, ' I By Rev. JOHN F. HURST, D.D. VOLUME I. New VoFqs: : CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO., 654 BROADWAY. 1869 BY THE SAME ATTTBOB, HISTORY OF RATIONALISM, EMBRACING A SURVEY OF THE PRESENT STATE OF PROTESTANT THEOLOGY. WITH APPENDIX OP LITERATURE. ONE VOLUME. 8vo. $8 50.' Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by . CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO., Iii the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. Karl Rudolf Hagenbach, D. D., of whose Kirchengeschichte des achtzehnten nnd neunzehnten Jahrhunderts the present work is a translation, is one of the most genial, attractive- and fruitful theologians on the Continent. Though a Swiss citizen, so far as his language and literary labors are concerned he is essentially a German, for, ever since the latter part of the eighteenth century, the theology of German Switzerland has been identical with that of Germany itself. The frequent editions of his works treating the history of the Church, owing at once to their fascinating style, liberality, and fidel ity to fact, prove him to be the most popular of all European, writers in that department. He was born on the 4th of March, 1801, at Basle, Switzerland,, where his father, Karl Friedrich Hagenbach (who died on the 20th of November, 1849), celebrated by his Tentamen Florae > Basileensis (2 vols. Basle : 1821 — 34. Supplement, 1843), was Professor of Anatomy and Botany. The son received his pre paratory education in his native city, and visited the Universities of Bonn and Berlin, when he became an adherent of Schleier- macher's theology. Returning to Basle in 1823, he became a teacher in the University, and his doctrinal views were matured chiefly through the influence of De Wette, who was Professor there. He was soon appointed Professor extraordinary,, in 1828 was elected Professor in ordinary, and in 1830 received IV THE TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. the degree of Doctor of Divinity. He shortly became known as a pleasing and forcible lecturer, and his literary works began to attract the attention of the German theological public. His Tabellarische Uebersicht der Dogmengeschichte was published in Basle in 1828, and his Vorlesungen iiber Wesen und Geschichte der Reformation, extending down to the middle of the 19th century, were published in six volumes (Leipzig; 1834—43; 2nd ed., 1851—56). An English edi tion of valuable portions of the last of this series (die Kirchengeschichte des 18ten und 19ten Jahrhunderts), trans lated by the Revs. W. L. Gage and J. H. W. Stuckenberg, was published in Edinburgh (Clarks) in 1865, under the title of German Rationalism. After a lengthy interval, Dr. Hagenbach added to the series his Vorlesungen uber die Kirchengeschichte des Mittel- -alters1 (2 vols. Leipzig: 1860, 61). He has also published a Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte, which has met with great favor (2 vols. Leipzig: 1840, 41; 5th ed., 1867). An En glish translation of this was issued in Edinburgh (Clarks) in 1846,, and a third edition thereof in 1858. The American edition, however, prepared by H. B. Smith, D. D., of the Union Theological Seminary, N. Y., contains large additions upon both the German and Edinburgh editions, especially on Anglican and American theology, and it is to be regretted that Dr. Hagenbach, though he acknowledges their value, has not seen proper to incorporate them into bis new edition^ (1867), for they would have revealed to German theologians a fact they have • never been willing to accept, — that the Anglo-Saxon mind has displayed a theological vigor, acuteness and industry fully equal to its great achievements in other fields, which all the world readily recognizes. Dr. Hagenbach's Encyklopadie and Methodologie der theologischen Wissen- schaften appeared in 1833 (Leipzig: 7th ed., 1864). A work based on this, and adapted to the English and American public, is now in course of preparation by J. M'Clintock, LL. D., President of Drew Theological Seminary, Madison, New Jersey. To the Leben und ausgewahlte Schriften der Viiter und Be- THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. V grander der reformirten Kirche (Elberfeld : 1859) Dr. Hagen bach contributed the second volume, containing the Biographies of Oecolampadius and Myconius. He has also been one of the most industrious cpoperators on Herzog's ReaLEncyklopaedie, having furnished no less than one hundred and twelve articles. In addition to his numerous contributions to theological magazines, may be mentioned his smaller works: Grundlinien der Homiletik und Liturgik (Leipzig: 1863), Denkschrift auf De Wette (Leipzig: 1850), and the Geschichte der theolo- gischen Schule Basel's (Basle: 1860), and Leitfaden zum christ- , lichen Religionsunterricht an hohern Gymnasien und BildUngs- anstalten (Leipzig: 1850; 3rd ed., 1867). He has published1 six volumes of Sermons (Basle : 1830 — 58), which have given him a high position among pulpit orators. Since 1845 he has conducted (though after 1860 in connection with Finsler) the Kirchenblatt fur die reformirte Schweiz. He has also found time for poetical labor, the fruit of which are his Luther und seine Zeit (Frauenfeld: 1838), and Gediehte/ (2 vols. Basle: 1846; 2nd ed., 1863). Dr. Hagenbach's theological position is evangelical. He belongs to the milder group of the Mediatory School, — whose chief representatives are Tholuck, Julius Miiller, Dorner, and the late Richard Rothe, — which takes its rise in Schleiermacher, is the reaction of orthodoxy against' the long dominant Rationalism, and aims at the reconciliation of reason and revelation, science and faith. As to the de partment in which he has chiefly employed his pen, he be longs to the school called into life by Neander, of whom he says with filial veneration: "Neander's school has become largely extended, and nearly all the talents that have of late been called into play in the sphere of historical theology, owe their incitement, at least partially and indirectly, to this school. Entire branches of church history, especially that of monography, which has produced such ripe fruit within the last three decades, have arisen directly from it. Whole phases of ecclesiastical life, special departments of missionary history, the history of Christian ethics, of beneficence,, and of the inward life of the spirit, have been brought to light Vi THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. by it, and introduced intp the warp and woof of church history. But the most beautiful contribution to church history has been furnished by Neander in Ms own life; for he, as has been well observed, has been a Church Father to. the church, of the nineteenth century. Not only will his name be associated with those of the great church historians Mos- heim and Planck, but in many respects he will soar above them; further, as a theologian of the new period, Neander stands among those who have comprehended our times, and exerted upon them a sanctifying, invigorating and harmonizing influence" (Studien und Kritiken, 1851). The present translation, originally a joint undertaking of B. H. Nadal, D. D., at that time pastor of Trinity Church, Philadelphia, but at present Professor of Church History in the Drew Theological Seminary, and myself, but owing to my removal to Germany in 1866, and the claims which Dr. Nadal's large parish so made upon his time as to leave him but little for meeting the literary engagements to which he was positively pledged, a mutually satisfactory arrangement was made by which the continuation and completion of the work was left in my hands. , While Lectures I. — VII., IX., and part of X., of the first volume, and portions of Lectures XVI. and XVII. of the second volume, were translated by him, I deeply regret the absence of his vigor and skill as a translator in the preparation of the body of the work, and' especially in the laborious final revision of the whole. It was originally designed to delay the publication of the translation until the issue of a new German edition, but after Dr. Hagen- bach's personal assurance that the time of its appearance was very uncertain, and that the present was substantially the fiual shape which he designed his work to retain, for his emendations would be very few and of a trivial character, chiefly verbal, and by no means such as to justify the slightest delay in the publication of the American edition, it was deemed advisable, by both the publishers and the translator, to commit it to the public. I had failed to notice a slight error, until too late, when there was no space in the stereotype plate. The author, relying on THE TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. Vll German authorities, says (Vol. I. p. 454) that John Nelson^, an early Wesleyan itinerant, died in the army in the midst of the ill treatment of his enemies. The fact is, that he was honorably dismissed through the intervention of Lady Hunting don, and' was a preacher until his death, some twenty or thirty years later. (See Stevens, History of Methodism, Vol. I. pp. 227, 229, 249—255; Vol. II. pp. 153, 154.) Not regarding the mere translating an author as implying a slavish endorsement of all his opinions, foot-notes have in some cases been employed for the expression of difference, a liberty which has nowhere a readier advocate than in the person of the greatest living expounder of Herder's humanism, the Professor of Church History in the University of Basleu To adapt the work more fully to the. wants of the public, I have thought it best to add, at the close of the work, a Supplementary Survey on the More Recent History and Present State of the Church in Europe. Frankfort on-the-Main, Germany. June 22, 1868. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. LECTURE I. Introduction. — External History of Protestantism. — The Church in France. — The Tumult in the Cevennes. — The Camisards, and their Attitude toward Protestantism 1 — 18 LECTURE II. Further Persecutions in France. — Anton Court, the Preacher in the Wilderness.— 1 The Execution of Preachers Roger and De Subas. — John Calas, and the Sirven Family; — Voltaire on Tolerance. — General Remarks on this Subject. — Religious War in Switzerland. — Commotions in Toggenburg. — The Toggenburg War. — The Second Battle of Vilmergen. ... 19 — 39 LECTURE IIL Religious Affairs in Germany. — The Palatinate. — The Days of Terror at Thorn. — The Emigration of the Evangelical Salz- burgers.. 40 — Gl LECTURE IV. Further Adventures of the Salzburgers. — History of Protest antism in the Austrian States. — Joseph II. and the Edict of Toleration. — The People of the Zillerthal. — Survey of the Internal History of Protestantism 62 — 83 LECTURE V. Life and Customs in Germany in the Former Half of the Eight eenth Century. — Frederick William I. of Prussia. .... 84^ 106 LECTURE VI. The Lutherans and the Reformed. — Attempts at Union. — Valentine Ernest Ldscher. — Pfaff and Klemm. — Werenfels, CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. Osterwald, Turretin, Zimmermann. — Pietism. — Christian Wolf and Joachim Lange. — On the Relation of Pietism to Philos ophy. 106—127 LECTURE VII. Pietism in the Former Half of the Eighteenth Century.— Hymn Writers: Benjamin Schmolok, J. A. Freylinghausen, Ch. F. Richter, C. A. Bogatzky, G. Tersteegen, E. G. Woltersdorf. The Orphan-House at Bunzlau. — The Cothen Hymns. . . . 128—151 LECTURE VIII. The Pietism of the Eighteenth Century in General.— Assmann's Life of E. M. Ai-ndt.— The Dark Side of Pietism as seen in Semler's Life. — Different Opinions. — William Petersen and his Wife. — The Praying Children in Silesia. — Rosenbach, Tenn- bart, Dauth, Rock, and Others who called Themselves In spired.— Tuchfeldt— The Ellerites, or Ronsdorf Sect. — The Buttlar Faction. — Hocbmann and Dippel. — The Berleburg Bible.— The Hymns of the Inspired. 152—176 LECTURE IX. Pietism and Separatism in Switzerland. — John Frederick Speyer (1). — The Association-Oath. — Samuel Koenig of Berne. — The Schaffhausen Disturbances. — John George Hurter, and the School for the Poor. — Pietists and Separatists in Basle. — D'Annone. — Samuel Lutz (Lucius) in the Canton of Berne. — The Bruggler Sect 177—198 LECTURE X. Attempts at Illuminism, — Deism and Naturalism. — Bolingbroke. — Voltaire. — Diderot. — D'Alembert. — Helvetius. — Baron von Holbach < (Systeme de la Nature). — J. J. Rousseau. — Mary Huher. — Edelmann 199—225 LECTURE XI. Frederick the Great and his Times. — Frederick's Youth. — Tolerance and Intolerance. — Anecdotes. — The Berlin French men and La Mettrie. — Movement in German Literature. — Tendency to Poetry and Satire. — Rabener. — Separation of Religious and Secular Poetry. — Gleim. — Wieland. .... 226 — 250 LECTURE XIL Contemporaneous Movement in Theology. — Biblical Criticism. — J. J. Wettstein. — Further Progress in Biblical Science and CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. in Theology in General. — J. D. Michaelis. — Lawrence von Mosheim. — Ernesti and J. S. Semler. — Further Particulars concerning Semler's Life and Opinions. — His Relation to the Times, and bis Practical Piety. .251—273 LECTURE XIII. Lessing. — The Wolfenbvittel Fragments. — Controversy with M. Goetze. — Relation of the Bible and Christianity. — Lessing's Nathan. — The Education of the Human Race. — A Sentiment of Lessing's Father 274—295 LECTURE XIV. The Period of Illuminism in Germany. — Basedow and Philan- tbropinism. — Nicolai and the Universal German Library. — Popular Philosophy. — Efforts for the Public Good. — Franklin, Iselin, and Others. — Reaction upon the Church. — Sebaldus Nothanker. — Moral and Utilitarian Sermons. — Emasculation of the Hymns. — New-Fashioned Translations of the Bible. — CF. Bahrdt 296—321 LECTURE XV. Parallel between Semler and Bahrdt. — Apologists for Chris tianity. — Newton. — Euler. — Haller; Passages from his Jour nal. — C. F. Gellert. — His Hymns.— His Labors as Teacher and Guide of Youth 322—347 LECTURE XVI. Transition from Apologetics to Semi-Rationalism. — Jerusalem. — Sack. — Spalding. — Zollikofer. — More Decided Appearance of Rationalism in Teller. — The Religious Edict and its Con sequences 348— -372 LECTURE XVIL Positive Tendencies. — Renewal of Pietism. — John Albert Ben gel. — Christopher Frederick Oetinger. — Philip M. Hahn. — Hiller, the Lyrist. — Samuel Urlsperger and Jus Son. — The German Christian Association. — Its Seat in Basle 373 — 397 LECTURE XVIIL Zinzendorf.— Biographies of Spangenberg, Schrautenbach, Miiller, and Varnhagen. — Zinzendorf s Youth and Marriage. — Chris tian David. — Founding of Herrnhut. — David Nitschmann. — Zinzendorf s Travels, Adventures, Death and Burial, and Characteristics. — The" Further Extension of the Moravian Brotherhood 398—419 Xii CONTENTS OF VOLUME I LECTURE XIX. Zinzendorf more closely Examined and Judged; his Character and Theology.— Bengel as an Opponent.— Spangenberg's Idea Fidei Fratrum.— Zinzendorf s Liberal Views on the Scriptures. — The Hymns of the Moravian Brethren. — Zinzen dorf as the Founder of a Church.— The Importance of the Moravian Brethren to their Times. — Societies. — Moravians in Switzerland, and particularly in Basle. — A Sentiment of Schleiermacher. 420-415 LECTURE XX. The Brothers Wesley, and Methodism. — George Whitefield.— The Manner of Methodist Preaching. — Anecdotes. — Separa tion of Wesley and Whitefield on account of the Doctrine of Election. — Relation to the Moravian Brotherhood. — Parallel. — John Wesley's Character. — His Death and Burial. . . . 446—472 LECTURE XXI. Swederiborg and the Church of the New- Jerusalem. — His Views on the Bible, the Church, Christ, and Angels. — His Visions of Spirits and the Future World. — Jung-Stilling and Lavater. 473 — 490 , LECTURE XXII. Further Treatment of Lavater. — His Relation to the Skeptical Tendencies.— His Relation to ' Spalding, Zollikofer, and Others. — His Positive Christianity. — Pfenninger's Jewish Letters.! — Lavater as a Preacher. — Steffens' Testimony con cerning him. — Lavater as a Religious Poet. — Reference to Herder. — Conclusion. ......••••«.... 491 — 504 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. «W*Wll'i^^WVWWW LECTURE I. INTRODUCTION. — EXTERNAL HISTORY OF PROTESTANTISM.— THE CHURCH IN FRANCE. THE TUMULT IN THE CEVENNES. — THE CAMISARDS, AND THEIR ATTITUDE TOWARD' PROT ESTANTISM. As a traveller, returning homeward from remote regions, sees at every step what is strange retiring more and more into the background, and that which is familiar coming out more distinctly into view, until at last he finds himself at home, — at his cosy fireside and among his own loved ones, — so is it with him who comes forth from the history of the early times and draws near to the present. The forms and conditions which he knows to be separated from him by long periods of time, and which he there fore designates as things departed and handed over to history, ' constantly retire; and characters and relations approach that are intergrown with his life, which, though they do not come down to his personal recollection, yet only lie one or two, or at most three or four generations before him, and therefore justly claim tobe more nearly related to us. Wefeel then as if ourfathers were telling us of their own fathers or grandfathers, or ourmoth^ ers of their mothers and grandmothers; or as if we had been led into a spacious family-hall, where the coats of arms and por traits of burgomasters, heads of corporations, counsellors, clergy- 2 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. men, and professors were hanging around, among whom one recognizes an ancestor of his own, or that of a friend and rela tive. We even seek to show certain family features still in the faces; and many points of resemblance offer themselves even outwardly, in the mien and in the posture. In this position we now find ourselves, wishing as we do to examine the history of the eighteenth century, first of all in its religious and ecclesiastical relations, but also in its more general character. If we take a general view of the period we have chosen, we shall find a very different picture presenting itself from that of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. While we there had to deal with bloody persecutions and religious wars, we shall find the eighteenth century praised as the century of fflumination and tolerance. This, it is true, holds good more of the second than of the former half of the century. On the border of these two centuries we still find the hostile hosts encamped; we still see the scaffold and the funeral pile for heretics, and meet with many, even among the educated, who beheve that they render God a service by persecuting those who hold different opinions. But these, compared with the two previous centuries, are only, the convulsions of a dead body; they are the oscillations of the pendulum of the old clock-works, while the hands of the new have already been firmly fixed upon more powerful machinery within, — for a new hour has already struck. But though the religious wars had bled out, it is not as if the time of everlasting peace had come, when lambs and tigers shall range the same pasture, and swords shall be turned into ploughshares. The wars still continue, but they have other motives; no longer related directly to rehgion, they are more purely poUtical, and only here and there, in manifestoes and in treaties of peace, do we still hear an occasional mutter of the old confessional discords. We shall therefore pass by the history of these political wars, from that of the Spanish Succession to that known as the Seven Years' War, or at most only select from them what may directly belong to our department. But not only have the religious wars and persecutions almost reached their termination with the eighteenth century, but even 'CHARACTERISTICS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 3 those internal struggles of faith which convulsed the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, — the battles between Catholicism and Protestantism, and between Lutherans and Calvinists, — retire more and more into the background; and where they are still carried on, they are confind to the schools, which warm up the old memories and spin out the old tough threads, while the people take but little or no interest in them. The people of the eight eenth century direct their attention with greater interest to political, economical, and industrial life; and ecclesiastical affairs fall more and more into neglect. But precisely here does the dark side of the picture which we are called upon to scrutinize, present itself. Indifference in religious affairs takes its place beside tolerance; persecution for the faith, and enthusiastic devo tion to it, pass away together ; skepticism grows with illumina tion, and unbefief wrests the scepter from the hand of superstition, to exercise over the conscience a tyranny equally powerful. And it is exactly the history of this religious and ecclesiastical decline, especially of its causes and consequences, that we propose to in vestigate. To do this may be less agreeable than to transfer our selves to those periods of mighty and loyal faith through which we have lately been passing; but it is neither less instructive nor fruitful for our spiritual life.' Even to-day, we are all wan dering, now with open and now with sleep-bewildered and dream ing eyes, among the ruins of the temple whereon our fathers had been building, and to whose demolition thousands of busy children's hands from every side had contributed, until the rude storm of the times broke over it, and tore the last remnant out of joint. We see the fragments, but often we do not know how to fit them together. And though we rejoice at the Beautiful and the Good, which the creative spirit of the century, in spite of the genius of destruction, has again built up among us, we do not rightly know bow the old stands related to the new, nor how it should be related, to insure permanence, and to defy the storm for the future. To this end, it is needful that we should know all sides of the history of this decline, that we may be able to judge what has rightfully fallen into decay, never to rise again, and what has been wrongfully displaced. It is our duty, and the mission of 4 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. our times, to revive this last, as something sacred and estabhshed. though it be in another form and in other relations and combina tions. A second thing needful to this end is, that we not only know the history of the decline, but that we also learn to mark what has kept alive in the midst of the decay; even that, indeed, which has built itself up, whether in quietness and minuteness, or in more dignified proportions. And, in the mean time, we must not overlook anything which has contributed, though only in a partial and contracted way, to guard and preserve the germ of improvement. We must look steadily in the eye the spirit of the age, of which so much is said and to which every thing is attributed, whether it fails or succeeds, in order that we may know what it demands ; that we may not falsely substitute the whims of our own spirit for the spirit of the age; that we may not arbitrarily harden ourselves against its just demands, nor thoughtlessly allow ourselves to be driven about by every wind of doctrine; and that we may not be of those who fight against God, but of those who openly declare war against what ever is not from Him. The task we have chosen must constantly be a difficult one. The more our times are still rooted in the most recent past, and the more the still ruling views and convictions, and the now pre vailing prejudices, intertwine themselves with our theme, the greater is our risk of becoming partisans either on one side or the other. The old period of the Reformation, to which we should go back as the root, is the common property of Prot estants. There every one seeks his own opinions, and finds them, or thinks he finds them, just as he himself explains the period and its, movements. The orthodox, evangelical Christian recog nizes in the Reformers the warlike pioneers of the faith, the pillars of ecclesiasticism, and, perhaps, even the authorities beyond whose views it were presumptuous to go. The disciple of illu mination, of agitation, and of progress invokes the Reformers as the friends of light and the foes of darkness; he sees in them the prophets of liberalism, who did not go far enough themselves, but showed us the proper way much farther than they went. The one class, when they compare the present with the period from which we set out, mournfully exclaim: " We have apostatized PROTESTANT TENDENCIES IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 5 from the doctrine of the fathers; we are in the path of error." The second class boastfully say: "We have obtained what they anticipated; we stand upon their shoulders, and look far beyond them into the dawn of a better day!*" Thus two entirely opposite parties appeal to the same period, the same men, the same battles, and the same fruits of their labor. We have already characterized both these modes of proced ure as defective, for only he has a proper conception of Prot estantism, who knows how to prize them both, — the enlightening and regulating, and the fixed and positive, which Protestant ism did not come to destroy, but to reestablish and re-inspire. We shall have, however, many occasions to repeat this thought. But in the eighteenth century, unlike the sixteenth, these extremes do not any longer he in the germ as bare possibilities, in and by the side of one another. Rather, they present themselves before our eyes as facts, intellectual forces already grown great and separ ated from each other in stern hostility. Here, we see decided freethinkers (as they call themselves), enemies of all data, of all tradition, of every thing believed; religious radicals, who would carve everything anew out of the healthy, fresh nature of man, as out of green wood; would develop everything out of the human understanding, and allow nothing to stand whose reason ableness cannot be estabhshed before this tribunal. There, we see others, Christians who are just as decided adherents of the old and strict regime, who not only refuse to vary a finger-breadth from what has been handed down as the faith of the fathers, but who feel it their duty to oppose the unbelief and frigidity of the times by a more glowing zeal for the faith and a bolder utterance, rising to an earnest prophecy of impending judgments. We see both these tendencies coming forward and claiming to be Protestantism; and between the" two there appears a crowd of the learned and unlearned, who, for the most part, are undecided, and would fain retain the good of the olden time and are yet anxious to taste the fruits of the modern illuminism; but who, nevertheless, without being aware of it themselves, are continually carried farther and farther by the stream. We see only a few strong, thoughtful spirits, who, in the midst of the inundation, have secured a firm footing, who look around with a discerning Vol. I.— 2 6 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. glance to see which way the wind blows, and whither the waves are rolling, and then stretch out their hands right and left to rescue whatever mayjbe saved, but who are ever in danger of being drawn again into the eddy by those who hang in despair to their skirts. Yes, we are called to look down into an infinite chaos of opinions and struggles, from which we shall see an image of more cheerfulness and comfort only gradually arising. The difficulty of the undertaking, which we alluded to above, lies precisely here, — to give due credit to each tendency, even the defective and destructive, so far as it agrees with the truth; but yet so much the more clearly to point out what is false and partial, and what is diverted from the truth and devoted to error, in every instance, even that which is most remarkable for piety. For, amid sects and parties, we shall find a confirmation of the remark of •Grotius, that no sect possesses the whole truth, and yet every one has part of it. But who shall furnish us the standard? Shall it be supplied by personal inclination or disinclination; by affection lor an individual, or by changeful humor? Certainly not. We must therefore acknowledge something in common, by which we may measure the various phenomena. This something common, is, according to our undertaking, simply Evangelical Protestant ism, with whose history we have occupied ourselves from the outset. We have not to determine what may be absolutely true or false in the phenomena, for this would carry us on without end and lead to no solution ; but how each of these phenomena stands related to the spirit and nature of the Reformation, or, to ex press it differently, to the spirit and nature of Scriptural Christi anity, restored through the agency of the Reformation. This, ac cording to the best of our knowledge and conviction, is what we wish to show. Here, however, we are met by the suggestion, that we will bring with us our own view of the Reformation and Christianity, and our own view of the Gospel and Protestantism, in order to render our verdict. But yet certain limits are there drav/n, and as far as my mode of treating the subject is con cerned, I may venture here to refer to my former lectures, in which an effort toward complete fairness has at least been acknowledged. Before entering more fully into the intellectual movements of PERSECUTION OF FRENCH PROTESTANTS. 7 the century, we must give, as we have heretofore done, the ex ternal history of Protestantism. And if I have before said that bloody persecutions and religious wars do not determine the character of this century, still, as I have shown, we step upon limits sprinkled with the blood of religious wars, and thereby secure the clue to the less bloody, but still fearful history of the persecution of Protestants, from which the former half of the eighteenth century did not remain free. To-day, we confine ourselves to France. In this country, the consequences of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685) were still felt in all their severity. The Huguenots remaining in the country, who numbered about two millions, were still subject to all the oppressions mentioned in our former lectures. But they remained true to the faith of their fathers. In the midst of the dangers that surrounded them, they congregated in the forests, on remote plains, and in dens and caves of the earth, as the early Christians had done before them. New light has been lately thrown on this Church in the Wilderness (Assemblies du Desert ).* The Huguenots did not long confine themselves to passive opposi tion. Nor dare we wonder that from those mountains of Lower Languedoc, and that especially from the Cevennes, — whither these persecuted people, hke a scared flock, had taken refuge, — the word, long stifled from without, now broke forth from within, and so much the more boldly sought to open a path for itself on the wings of the storm, and with the tumult of the wildest excite ment. Excited women and children appeared, who saw visions, and prophesied the end of the world and the near approach of the divine judgment upon the Romish Church and its priesthood, and upon France and her king. The number of prophets and prophetesses grew with that of believers; flame kindled flame; for, with precisely the enthusiasm with which the word was spoken by the prophets, was it caught up and scattered by the multitude. The heroic hosts of confessors ran from village to vil lage, and from mountain to mountain; forests and caverns were their lodging-places, their churches, their council-chambers, and * Comp. Ch. Coqnerel, Histoire des igliscs du desert chez les Protestants de France, depuis la fin du r&gne de Louis XlV.jusgu' h la Bivolutim Framgaise. Paris, 1841. 8 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. their oratories, while the wild fruits of a southern climate were then: food. They met their pursuers with defiance and with con tempt of death, and not unfrequently with self-defence. More than once they were overcome by superior power. The prisons were filled with the Inspired, and resounded with their psalms. Many ended their hves joyfully on the funeral pile. In the single month of November, in the year 1701, about two hundred prophets were seized in the Cevennes, and condemned to the gal leys and to- military service. The number of Inspired in Langue- doc, in the year 1702, was estimated at eight thousand. The pro phesying worked contagiously, and was attended by convulsions. Even such as were sent out to secure some victim, were seized by the spirit that raged in the assembly; they threw down their weapons, and, with the rest, spoke with new tongues. The young children, not over three or four years old, produced the greatest astonishment when they began to preach repentance in pure French. In these things men saw the fulfillment of the words of Scripture: "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger." The conduct of the clergy of the country toward this new style of preachers grewmore andmore fierce. What the latter regarded as the work of the Holy Spirit, was denounced by the former as the blinding influence of the devil. Special missionaries were sent to convert the misguided people; but all in vain. The Abbe Francis de Langlade du Chaila, the Arch-Priest of the Cevennes, laid even his priestly hands on the unfortunate ones; and when words would no longer serve, had them scourged and tortured in the most barbarous manner, while, he loaded with favors' such as penitently submitted. He atoned for this with his life; for a band of the Inspired assailed his house, set fire to it, and in the most miserable manner tortured him to death. Other Catholic ecclesiastics were murdered, thus afford ing new grounds for still more horrible persecutions and devas tations. A certain LaPorte, of Alais, a man in the prime of fife, placed himself at the head of the persecuted. This individual, formerly a dealer in pork, now called himself "the chief of the children THE CAMISARDS. 9 of God, who desire liberty of conscience," and dated his letters "from the Camp of Jehovah." He, with the gangs of his wild associates, committed many outrages upon the churches and their sacred vessels, and upon the persons and property of the clergy. When La Porte fell by a shot, in a fight with the royal troops, his place was taken by John Cavaher, who from that time became the head of the Huguenots and the soul of all their undertakings. He also came from the region of Alais, from Ribaute, and was the son of a peasant. When a boy, he kept the flocks ; he then learned the trade of a baker, and afterwards obtained some education at Geneva. When a young man of twenty-one, just as the war broke out, he returned to the Cevennes. He was small of stature, and his head, somewhat large and deeply depressed between bis shoulders, was covered with long, brown hair. From his broad, red face there shone out a pair of large, flashing eyes. The expression of his character seemed rather good-natured than terrifying. This Cavaher, in connection with the taciturn Roland, from Mialet, and born at Andouse, organized the outbreak. Those who placed themselves under their banner received the name of Camisards.1 It is not our aim to give in detail the insurrection in the Cevennes, or the Camisardian War. Prof. Hofmann, of Erlangen, has written it by the aid of original sources ; 2 Tieck, as is well known, has given the material a romantic treatment in an un finished novel.3 We shall content ourselves with a brief review. Broglie, the French general, was sent out against the rebels with a regiment of dragoons and some infantry. The Cami sards had long worried him with inroads, until, in the neigh borhood of Nismes, they allowed themselves for the first time to be openly attacked. They awaited the enemy on a hill, kneeling, and singing psalms; but at the first attack their as- 1 This name has been variously derived: either from the shirts (blouses) they wore (Gliemise; Old French, Camise), or from their unexpected assaults (Camisade); the same as waylayers. 8 Geschichte des Aufruhrs im den Cevennen unter Ludwig XIV. Nord- lingen, 1837. Compare also Bruyes, Histoire du Fanatisme de noire temps. Utrecht, 1737. IL (Roman Catholic.) 8 The French, romance of Eugene Sue, Jean Cavalier ou lu Fanatigues des Cevennes; Paris, 1840. 4 vols. , has an historical foundation. 10 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. sailants were put to flight, and the further progress of the rebels was marked by fire and slaughter. Broglie received aid from Lord Julien, who had been a Reformer but had returned again to the Catholics ; and after many appeals from the Catholics for help, finally, in February, 1702, Marshal Montrevel marched into Nismes with a strong military force. Montrevel immediately issued orders forbidding the slightest indulgence toward the dan gerous sect, and gave emphasis to his orders by the prompt infliction of punishment. The spiritual powers united with the temporal. Where the general threatened and punished, the pious Bishop Flechier, in a pastoral letter, exhorted the faithful of his diocese to prayer for the conversion of sinners and the deliverance of believers from the anger of God. Montrevel, however, was not disposed to wait on the efficacy of these prayers. A body of Huguenots having assembled on Palm Sunday in a mill not far from Nismes, for the purpose of relig ious service, Montrevel surrounded the place with dragoons, and then set the mill on fire. Those who escaped the fire fell by the weapons of the dragoons. About one hundred and fifty persons, among whom were old men, women and children, suffered a miserable death. While these things were going on in Nismes, all in the surrounding country who were suspected of Protestantism or insurrection, were thrust into neigh boring or more remote prisons. For this purpose seven hundred persons were sent, from time to $ime, out of Languedoc to Roussillon. Many neighborhoods were delivered over to plun der, while heavy contributions were demanded of others. The reverend and aged Baron Saigas, who passed for a zealous Huguenot, was sent to the galleys, and was only liberated from them fifteen years afterwards upon the intercession of distin guished persons. These severe measures failed, as might have been expected, to accomplish their purpose. The number of the insurrectionists increased, aud with swollen numbers there came greater vio- lence#; for wherever the Camisards obtained a victory, it might be expected they would take fearful and even inhuman revenge. They were even worse than the insurgents in the War of the Peasants in Germany. When it was found that the war lingered THE CAMISARDS. 11 still, the royal commissary, Baville, and Marshal Montrevel, came to an agreement to lay waste the whole region of the Upper Cevennes, which contained four hundred and sixty-six villages and hamlets, and twenty thousand people. They expected thus to cut off from the Camisards all means for the further prosecu tion of the war. Only a few of the larger places were to be spared; all the inhabitants of the others were required to leave within three days after their reception of an order to that effect; and the villages were to be razed. The work was begun in September of the same year, and by the 14th of December the last house of the last village was destroyed. In the meantime, the attention of the rest of Protestant Europe was directed to the war in the Cevennos. Money was collected for its support in England and Holland. One of the French exiles, the Marquis Miremont, won over Queen Anne to the inter ests of the Camisards; and although the effort to send them help failed, still the sympathy raised their courage. They were successful in a number of battles. Even the women, in some cases, distinguished themselves in the fight, and reminded their contemporaries of the ancient times of the Judges. A young woman by the name ofLucretiaGuignon, who was only seventeen years old, uttered the words, " The sword of the Lord and of Gideon," brandished the dragoon's saber, and pursued the flying enemy. While the Protestant powers 'thus sought to fire the courage of the Camisards, Pope Clement XI. promised, on his part, to favor with indulgences and spiritual blessings the bishoprics which should distinguish themselves in defence of their most holy faith. While youthful maidens fought in the ranks of the en thusiasts, in those of the Catholics there rose lip old men like the recluse "Brother Francis Gabriel", whose hermitage had been burned by the Camisards. This man, in connection with three others, — among whom the herculean Miiller Florimond was distinguished, — collected a corps of four hundred men to make war upon the enemies of their Church. These so-called Knights of the Cross fearfully increased, so that the Catholic pop ulation even suffered by them severely, and the Provincial Assem bly of Languedoc made loud complaints against them. The way- 12 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. laying Camisards, on their part, grew no better. Concealed behind the walls and vineyards of Nismes, they shot the peace able inhabitants of the city as they passed out to cultivate their fields. Montrevel ordered the walls to be torn down, and sent out a guard to protect the people when they went to the field. But all in vain; driven from one hiding-place, they never wearied, but quickly found another. Every mountain-pathway, every ravine, and every hollow were turned to account, while the royal troops, ignorant of the country, wasted their strength in vain. To the latter the war became burdensome, especially in the win ter; and even Montrevel, who at first behaved as though he would devour everything, finally shared the feehng of his men. A defeat which his general, Jonquieres, suffered on the 14th of March, 1704, in the wilderness of Les Devois des Martignar- gues, brought him into disgrace at court. After gaining a vic tory over the Camisards at Nages, he left the region, to make place for the Duke of Villars. A little longer, and the question of peace began to be agitated; for even Cavalier sought peace, after striving in vain to restore ^discipline among his wild and disordered bands. Hitherto, Cavaher had not only been the bravest and most sagacious in the field, but he had also acted the chief part as an inspired prophet in the ecclesiastical assembhes. But when a sword-cut had wounded him in the hand, the prophetic word died upon his tongue. The Spirit seemed to have left him, and his carnal disposition dis played itself in all the nakedness of its deformity. Vain and selfish, he sought before every thing else a favorable peace for \ himself, and lightly gave up all care for the future fate of the Protestants, for whose sake the war had been waged. When he had been offered the rank of colonel in the royal service outside of France, and a Reformed preacher allowed him for his regiment, he troubled himself but little for the fate of his com panions in faith. He was quite contented when they were allowed a free exit from the country. As to toleration of public services, the thing was not to be thought of. And yet he imagined that1 on this condition, which he timidly proposed to his people, he could persuade them to peace. He was destined, however, to en counter violent opposition. "Traitor," was the cry that greeted CONQUEST OF THE CAMISARDS. 13 him from every side; his hfe was no longer safe; his part was at last played out, and he stepped off the stage. The daring Roland, assuming the vacated place of leader, now sought to keep up the courage of these fierce bands ; and with him stood Ravanel, who, from the beginning of the war, had shared with Cavaher and Roland the highest honor for courage. Roland soon lost his life by a hostile shot, on the 14th of August, 1704. Some of the other leaders perished either in fight or on the scaffold; and the rest freely renounced the failing cause. Only Ravenel stood forth yet unsubdued and undismayed. Five hundred dollars were offered for him hving, and a thousand livres for him dead. Now when every thing seemed lost, the old sympathies b&gan again to stir in the heart of the renegade Cavaher, and that all the more warmly because he found himself ignominiously deceiv ed in his expectations of an honorable reception by the court. The imprisoned lion broke away from his keepers, who were to conduct him over the borders into the neighborhood of Be- sancon; and he escaped into Switzerland, and from thence to Piedmont, where be pledged himself to construct a new army out of the Reformed refugees. In Switzerland, especially in Lausanne, there were a great many of these refugees, who were supported at first by the Savoyard ambassador, and afterwards at the common expense of the governments of England and the Netherlands. Their removal was demanded of the Government at Berne by the French ambassador. They fled to the Bishopric of Basle, but the bishop refused to let them remain. They then went to Zurich, and thence to Wurtemberg. , Wherever they went they left behind them the seed of their fanaticism, which afterward produced a luxuriant growth. Meanwhile, the persecution in the Cevennes still continued; executions followed executions; even Ravenel ended his life on the scaffold, sing ing psalms, and Catinat, also distinguished for his courage, died with him. Others perished with them. The suffering sect still looked hopefully to the two great Prot estant maritime powers, England and Holland. Cavalier, now a colonel in the service of the Duke of Savoy, went to Holland in the year 1706, by the permission of the Duke. His appearance there 14 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. made quite a stir, so that whenever he went into the street, crowds flocked about him. From the government there he received also the rank of a colonel, and was ordered to form a regiment of from six to seven hundred of Reformed and Camisard refugees. During the same year, a cousin of Cavalier, John Cavalier, with two othef Camisard exiles, reached London. AU three of them possessed the gift of prophecy, but the prophecies of one of them, whose name was Ehas Marion, attracted especial attention. Soon the English themvelves were seized by the same spirit that worked in these prophets. An English nobleman by the name of Lacy experienced ecstacies similar to theirs. This was by no means agreeable to the Episcopal Church, which placed the highest estimate upon order. The Bishop of London demanded of the French Consistory an investigation of the matter; which was granted, and took place in January, 1707, and in which the inspirations of these prophets were pronounced carnal and deceptive. The press was employed both for and against them. The populace took part, and while some regarded the pretended miracles with amazement, others attacked the houses of the prophets, and threatened to stone the prophets themselves. Infidelity, which at that period had some of its ablest promoters in England, not only derided these men, but used their abuses as a welcome means of bringing the very ideas of revelation and inspiration into contempt. The English clergy were in great perplexity. They stood helpless between mocking infidelity and raving fanaticism. The prophets finally proposed to estab lish their claims by miracles, and although this, like their prophecies, failed, still the number of their followers grew, both in the higher and lower ranks, as well in London as in other cities of England. Thus it came to pass that the volcano, which, from the mountains of the Cevennes, had scattered its spray of fire further and further, was now in the act of burning out, of carbonizing in its very crater. The fire of enthusiasm gradually died upon its original altar; and the miserable war came to a miserable end, being settled without a formal peace. If we look back upon this remarkable war, we shall hardly be able to count it among those religious wars in which, — as in those that took place earlier in France, — the struggle had re- CHARACTERISTIC OF THE WAR IN THE CEVENNES. 15 spect to the right of a free Protestant creed ancT the exercise of Protestant worship. If anything of this kind came into question here, it was mostly as a pretext for the attainment of ulterior political objects. If we more closely observe the conduct of the Camisards, we shall find them entirely wanting in that firm, thoughtful, and assured faith, and that unbending morahty with which we have been accustomed to meet in the war-hosts of the Huguenots. We do not mean to say that among the latter there were no errors or extremes, nor to deny that among the former there were emotions of a better evangelical spirit; but this evil among the Huguenots was the exception; and so was the good among the Camisards. The chief characteristic of the war in the Cevennes is that of a fanatical and political outbreak. At best, it can only be placed by the side of the War of the Peasants in Germany during the Reformation,1 and the two must be referred to the same prin ciples, — to principles which the earhest Anabaptists wished to estabhsh, — for they both ahke appealed to new revelations and wonderful events, to prophecies and to ecstacies. We know, however, the judgment of Luther respecting such phenomena, and with that judgment Protestantism is not likely to disagree in the future. Hence, many Protestant ecclesiastical historians have hesitated whether to reckon the Camisards as belonging in a general sense to Protestantism, or whether they ought not rather to be regarded as a fanatical sect foreign alike to Romanism and to Protestantism. At their start, certain of the most discreet theologians, as Turretin of Geneva, declared against them dis tinctly; indeed, these theologians were compelled to speak against them, because the intelligent sobriety into which Protestant theo logy had at that time passed, afforded at least a means of under standing them. The Protestantism of that day, after the fashion of the old orthodoxy, either saw in these phenomena the power of the devil to hoodwink his victims (as the Cathohcs also looked at the matter), or it laughed them to scorn as fraud and fanaticism, 1 Only with this difference : that, while with, the peasants the political motive ruled from the beginning, among the Camisards it rather developed out of previous religions agitation. The latter were driven by despair; the former, at least according to Luther, did the wrong wilfully. 16 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. in the self-sufficient consciousness of the more rational mode of thought which was now at length attamed. The Protestantism of to-day must decide otherwise. Still, it well knows how to discriminate between the pure fire of evangelical zeal and the wild flame of fanaticism. It must also regard the movements in the Cevennes, in general, as the errors of fanaticism. But as it respects those accompanying circumstances, the being seized by a myste rious power, the visions, and the gift of tongues, with all the strange gesticulations and convulsions, Protestantism refuses to pass upon such matters a hasty judgment. It hands them over to the only slightly explored region of the higher science of nature and of the soul. One thing, however, it holds firmly: that the truth and purity of a doctrine do not rest upon the number of miracles and prophecies, even should these phenomena reveal a better character than, as a rule, they afterwards ap peared to exhibit. It holds these to be very insecure grounds of belief. It agrees with Luther in his judgment of the Zwickau Prophets, that we cannot depend on what the devil in an emer gency may imitate, but on the spirit which meekly resists temp tation. Besides these doubtful prophecies and miracles of the Cami sards, other things deserve to be mentioned which are still more surprising. I mean the persistency with which some among them defended their cause, and the courage with which they met death. Many, indeed, died like the early martyrs, with prayer, singing, and smiles .of joy. When one of them by the name of Maille was condemned to death on the wheel, he heard his sentence with a smile ; and with a smile he passed through the streets to the place of execution. When his limbs had been crushed and man gled, he was still able to repel, the priests, who were laboring to convert him to the Roman Catholic faith. As long as he could speak he encouraged the others, and died with a cheerful coun tenance.1 Another, Boeton, preached from the wheel so long- that his persecutors, having good ground for fearing lest the shocking spectacle should work on the feelings of the crowd and induce them to take part with the persecuted sect, dispatched him by a blow.2 • See Hofmann; p. 303. ! Idem; p. 323. THE CAMISARDS A DEGENERATE TYPE OF PROTESTANTS. 17 Such instances of heroism are, in any event, very wonderful, but, still, even the most courageous death can no more prove the truth of a cause than the most striking miracles. Even the fanat ic is ready to die for his faith, and even the criminal has frequent ly yielded up his life not only with cheerful courage, but with stiff-necked denial of his offence or with hypocritical apologies and praises. That which constitutes true martyrdom, and makes it the noble thing it is, is that it reposes on the foundation of a life consummated in the service of truth, and of a pure and .sohd conviction which does not tremble even in the face of death. It is only where voluntary death appears as the bloom of a dis position rooted and preserved in holy convictions, that it can be aUowed to give proof of the honesty and steadfastness even of the conviction itself. This conviction, however, is neither better nor truer on account of the death which is suffered for it; and the same may be said of the miracles which are wrought in its behalf; it is amenable to another standard, — the word of God. If we hve by this rule, by it also we suffer. As there are false miracles, so there is a false martyrdom. There is, however, but ' one truth; and to hve and die for this is worthy of a Christian. If we inquire here among the Camisards for this deeper ground of truth and conviction, the noble and steadfast hfe of faith for which the old Huguenots were so noted, and of which Du Plessis, Mornay and others were examples, it is no longer to be found. The learned and powerful, but sometimes passionate, Peter Jurieu (f 1713) may be regarded as the last Huguenot theologian. Among the Camisards proper we no longer find distinguished teachers or theologians, but only wielders of the battle-ax and sword, and prophets of the same sort. The clear consciousness is gone, and an unregulated enthusiasm has taken its place. The seed of the word was overgrown and smothered by the weedy, tangled vines of a wild, creeping fantasy, so that the quiet and healthful ripening of the harvest was not to be expected. Many of the distinguished prophets were guilty of gross excesses and carnal crimes ; and even where a stricter rule was enforced, the scepter was held rather by a bhnd legahsm than by a just Christian discipline. For example, in Cavalier's army there was public prayer three times a day, and cursing and swearing were 18 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. strictly forbidden. Indeed, on one occasion, during the trial of a certain person, Cavaher threatened him with death because he wished to establish his innocence by an oath.1 But how does this strictness agree with Cavalier's own vanity, with the inhuman cruelty of the Camisards, and with the scandalous vices to which the insurgents gave themselves up? The shadow of the ancient greatness was still present, but the candlesticks were removed, and the hght extinguished. All this, however, does not excuse the government and the clergy for persecuting them. Their persecutors were not content to stop insurrection, but in the Camisards they persecuted Protestantism wilfully and knowingly. This had been the object of their hate from the days of Calvin, as we may see in the Night of Saint Bartholomew, in the rehgious wars, in the dragonnades, and, as will be more fuUy shown, in the further history of the persecutions of Protestantism. * See Hofmann; p. 154. LECTURE LL FURTHER PERSECUTIONS IN FRANCE. — ANTON COURT, THE PREACHER IN THE WILDERNESS. — THE EXECUTION OF PREACH ERS ROGER AND DE SUBAS. — JOHN CALAS, AND THE SIRVEN FAMDLY. VOLTAIRE ON TOLERANCE. — GENERAL REMARKS ON THIS SUBJECT. — RELIGIOUS WAR IN SWITZERLAND. COMMOTIONS IN TOGGENBURG. — THE TOGGENBURG WAR. — THE SECOND BATTLE OF VXLMERGEN. We remarked in the previous lecture that the bloody religious persecutions were only hke the convulsions of a dying body, while toleration was the watchword for the century and the peaceful banner around which the people gathered. The truth of this remark is most clearly seen in the history of the persecu tions in France. We might have regarded the Camisardian War through which we have just passed as an unsuccessful attempt to reproduce the former religious wars ; since the persecuted sect had introduced into the struggle so many impure elements which were entirely foreign to Protestantism. The effort has been made by some to associate with the Camisards all the Protestants of the South of France; but it has not succeeded. There were still honorable families, who, under oppression of various kinds, yet preserved the jewel of their faith; there were still faithful preachers and pastors, who, in the spirit of the Reformers, and with reverence for the earlier times, still persevered in doctrine, in exhortation, and by their own example; and these, for the most part, were exempted from the persecutions. To this class belonged Anton Court, who, while quite a youth, arose in the Church at Nismes as a preacher in the wilderness, and with the noblest self-sacrifice devoted himself to the service of God and his brethren. It was no light task to bring back to 20 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the true doctrine those spirits which were still excited by the fanaticism into which they had fallen; again to set on their feet and strengthen those indolent souls which had lost their courage from sheer weariness, and were ready but too lightly to exchange the precious treasure of their faith for outward repose. Anton Court did both of these in the face of the greatest dangers, and with a tact and a boldness peculiarly his own. He was occupied at the same time in restoring the lost disciphne, and in educating preachers, of whom the churches were almost wholly destitute. To this end he assembled, in August, 1715, all the remaining clergy and the most reliable of the laity, for the purpose of uniting with them in laying out ground for the reerection of their Church. The new inspiration was to be forever ignored, and, as at the Reformation, everything was to be grounded on the pure word of Scripture. Other synods similar to this were held in after years in the Church under the Cross. By this means the flocks were strengthened in spirit; a germ was secured, around which aU that remained gathered; the bond of communion was continually drawn closer and closer; and to this reorganizing and reforming activity the appropriate blessing was not wanting. The spirit of thoughtfulness, of moderation, and of disciphne gradually re turned, and with it that true courage which neither courts danger nor deserts its post in the hour of trial. Louis XV. reenacted, in the year 1724, the law of Louis XIV., his great-grandfather, against the Huguenots, and made some additions to it. The religious assemblies were forbidden with double strictness ; everything formerly pertaining to the Hugue nots and everything still pertaining to them, was placed under the closest watch; children, as soon as born, were required to be baptized by Romish priests, and no means were left untried to withdraw them from the influence of their parents. Indeed, Protestant parents were compeUed to send their children to the priests to be indoctrinated, and to see that they attended service in the Romish churches. House-searching, quartering soldiers, imprisonment, confiscation, forced contributions, exUe, and forced divorces were constantly taking place. The South of France still remained the principal theater of these persecutions. Some executions even occurred. In the year MARTYRDOM OF PROTESTANTS. 21 1732, the preachers Rousset and Durand were hanged.1 In 1745, 2 Ranc, a preacher atDie, on the Drome, and the Huguenot minister, Jacob Roger, who was nearly eighty years old, suffered death by the same means, in the Place de Breuil at Grenoble. The corpse of the latter was thrown into the Isere. With unwearied pastoral fidehty, Roger had stood before the churches of Dauphiny for thirty years, and was charged with no crime except that of unwav ering attachment to his religion. His enemies had indeed falsely charged him with forging a royal edict favorable to the Prot estants, and presenting it as genuine. Upon receiving his sen tence in prison, he rejoiced; and that his imprisoned fellow- believers might hear him, with a loud voice he praised the day on which he might seal with Ms blood the mercies of God which he had so long proclaimed among his people. He exhorted the ' brethren steadfastly to maintain their confession, and went joy fully to the place of execution. On his way thither he sang the Fifty-First Psalm. Even many of the Romish spectators were moved by his death, and the two Jesuits who attended him showed great respect for this greatness of soul. The same fate overtook the pastor De Subas, of the Province of Vivarais, who suffered martyrdom in February, 1746, at Mont- pelier. The bishops and archbishops of the Romish Church visited him in prison, and besought him in vain to recant. With an inward struggle, and with .scarcely restrained tears, the royal attendant made known to him his sentence to death ; and even at the place of execution the crucifix was held before him. But he repeUed it, and died with his eyes turned toward heaven. His dying words were not heard, but were purposely drowned in the sound of drums. Others, if not killed, were otherwise shamefuly treated. A man by the name of Stephen Arnold was condemned by the Parhament, in 1745, to the pillory, and was branded with a red-hot iron for simply teaching young people to sing psalms. A New Testament and a Psalter were hung about his neck as marks of disgrace, while he stood in the pillory. 1 See Von Einem, Kirchengeschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts, vol. I. p. 585. \ 2 Ibid. p. 586. Comp. The Never-Changing Papacy, or Meliable News of the Present Persecution of the Protestants in the Central Provinces of France. From the English. Amsterdam, 1750. p. 18 ff.; also pp. 52, 82, 85. Vol. I.— 3 22 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. In March.. 1745, the already severe edicts of France against the Protestants were made still more so. It was determined, among other punishments, .that a church in which a Reformed preacher was caught should pay a fine of three thousand livres. In 1750, these edicts were revived; and the Archbishop of Paris and the Bishop of Mirepoix were especially distinguished for their rigor. The complaints of the Protestants seldom reached the throne ; and when they did, the monarch's answer was, that the perse cutions took place in opposition to his will; but there was no relief. The year 1762 furnishes us with the well-known story of John Calas. This man was a Protestant, and sixty-eight years of age. For forty years he had lived in Toulouse as a merchant, and had enjoyed the reputation of being a plain and ¦upright citizen. He had brought up his children in the Prot estant religion; one son, by the name of Louis, had been induced by a nurse, who had long lived in the family, to join the Romish Church. The father allowed it to pass, and gave the son a small annuity. An elder son, however, by the name of Marc Anthony, had for a long time shown signs of melancholy and of disturbance of mind. He was dissatisfied with his lot, disorderly in his family, and, by the reading of all sorts of books, was finally brought to the conclusion to make away with himself. One evening, in October, 1761, while the family were sitting at the table with a young friend, who had come from Bordeaux to make them a visit, Marc Anthony absented himself from the company, and was soon after found, to the great grief and alarm of the household, hanging over the door of his father's ware house. A general cry of distress broke forth from within, and of tumult from without. Even before the medical and judicial examinations were begun, the assembled populace had reached the conclusion that the son had fallen by the hands of his father, because the former wished to be a Catholic. Others were of opinion that the young guest from Bordeaux had been especially invited to come and play the hangman, since it was certainly a custom among Protestants to destroy those whom they suspected of intending to return to the Catholic Church. This senseless •cry was soon united in by all, tlie authorities themselves not MARTYRDOM OF JOHN CALAS. 23 excepted. The father, mother, and all the members of the family were imprisoned. The body of the suicide, who was regarded as a martyr offering himself up for the Catholic faith, was buried with great pomp. He was soon honored as a saint; stories were told andbeheved of miracles wrought at his grave, and the people sought to possess themselves of relics of him. What contributed to carry this fanaticism to a still greater pitch was, that, in the following year, 1762, the city of Toulouse was to hold the annual celebration of the slaughter of four thou sand Huguenots, accomphshed two hundred years before. How could they better honor such a feast than by the sacrifice of the heretic, John Calas ? This took place, by an act of the Parhament of Toulouse, on the 9th of March, 1762. The innocent man, in contempt of torture, in vain denied the miserable accusation; it was in vain that his friends, and even the Catholic servant- girl, gave testimony to his fatherly love and tenderness, and showed him to be utterly incapable of such a crime ; it was in vain that the intelligent and unprejudiced pointed to the physical impossibility of such a crime. The sentence was executed. John Calas died peacefuUy and firmly on the wheel. His body was burnt. Even one of the ecclesiastics who attended upon his execution was impressed with his innocence. The rest of the famUy were partly banished, and partly thrust into convents. Through a younger son, who had fled to Switzerland and hved at Ferney, near Geneva, the story was obtained by Voltaire, together with a similar story of the persecution of another family named Sirven, which, by flight,- had escaped a similar fate. A Protestant lawyer named Sirven, residing at Castre, had three sons. These sons were torn from him, to be shut up in a con vent and brought up to the Catholic religion. One of the daugh ters, from bad treatment in the convent, fell into melancholy, and threw herself, into a weU. Here, again, father and mother were accused of laying violent hands on the unfortunate child, and that at the very time when the trial of Calas was pending. Voltaire took an interest in both of these families, and wrote his well-known Treatise on Toleration, in which he pubhshed the stories, with all their incidents, as he had become acquainted 24 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. with them.1 The consequence was a new investigation of the trial of Calas by the Royal Council of State, and, in the year 1765, the judgment of Toulouse was reversed. Calas, of course, could not be brought back from the dead, but with him, at least, trials for heresy in France were buried. He was the last bloody offer ing of Protestantism that fell formaUy by the hands of the law in France. It is strange what a number of things appear in history which could only have been accomphshed by the most violent contrasts. What the fervent preaching of the faith by Calvin and Beza could not accomplish, and what the gentle voice of Michael de l'Hopi- tal in the sixteenth century could not effect, was now brought about by a philosophy which held Christianity in supreme con tempt, and, instead of addressing the affections with the exhorta tions of love, attacked the naked understanding with the terrible weapons of ridicule. It will, therefore, reward our pains to stop here for a moment in the midst of the history of these perse cutions, and examine this famous Treatise on Toleration, and to accept the opportunity thus afforded of looking more closely at the conception of tolerance itself. First of all, let us endeavor to forget for a moment the name of Voltaire, and only remember the writer of this tractate. And, indeed, we should do the author injustice if we did not acknowl edge that his work exhibits hot only an honest zeal, but even a noble indignation against the religious tyranny of his times. How nobly he holds forth the fact of judicial murder before the eyes of his conceited countrymen as a proof that, in spite of aU the arts of which they boast, they are stiU barbarians, whUe other nations are making progress in humanity! 2 How eloquently he brings out the argument against the silly attempts recently made to compel the faith of the human soul, on the ground that God is able to see to his own matters! Much of what is here uttered by Voltaire, was afterward said, and that in the same manner and in a different quarter, and was accepted as the maxim of the century by aU parties, however hostile on other points. Voltaire belonged outwardly to the CathoUc Church, but in wardly to none; but the position which he here defended, accord- 1 Oevres. 1785. Vol. XXX. * Pp. 77, 78. VOLTAIRE ON TOLERATION. 25 ing to its very origin and nature, is Protestant, and hence this tractate deserves to be presented in the history of Protestantism, for whose development it did more than many treatises of a purely dogmatical and polemical character. Voltaire's tractate did not proceed from the inner germ of the evangelical Prot estant sentiment ; it belongs rather to a mode of thinking which we shaU consider later in its own proper connections, and of which Voltaire is the representative. This is plainly the character of this treatise from beginning to end; for, although it contains no direct assault upon Christianity, but, on the contrary, fre quently speaks in reverent recognition of the genuine religion of Christ, as opposed to hypocrisy and fanaticism, — which alone are to be battled with, — sthl, however concealed, that spirit with which the name of Voltaire is for ever associated, is clearly enough visible in what is here written. For instance, in the Appendix (to LordChardon, Maitre des Requettes), we read: "I pity the dolts who aUow themselves to be persecuted for the sake of Calvin; but from the bottom of my heart I hate the persecutors; for more than fourteen centuries has Europe been passionately excited about things no more deserving of attention than a puppet- show." This, indeed, must be understood of the v controversies respecting theological dogmas from the time of Constantine, and not of original Christianity. Still, the careful reader of the treatise will not mistake the author's object, which is manifestly to trace the root of this hated intolerance to Christianity itself. How eloquent he is in praise of the Greeks and Romans, who knew nothing of the gloomy fanaticism of later times; how slyly he apologizes for the persecutions of the Christians by the Roman Emperors, and for the Roman state-reUgion, and lays the blame on the untimely and imprudent zeal of the Christians themselves. 'Where he touches the Old Testament, how poorly he conceals his contempt! And even when he speaks of Christ, his lan guage is not without a tinge of irony ; still, in comparison with his other writings, we find here a certain respect and reverence re straining this ironical tone. He appears to be at least in earnest when he presents Jesus as a pattern of genuine toleration, and i calls out to Christians: "Would you be worthy of your Master, then be martyrs, but not executioners!" 26 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Voltaire, from his point of view, knew only the two things: Fanaticism and Philosophy. The children of the first he held to be falsehood and persecution; and the children of the second, truth and tolerance. If fanaticism had triumphed hitherto, the time had now come for philosophy to be victor; the day must fright away the night, and, above all, the progress lately made by astronomy and natural phUosophy must enable men to shake off the prejudices which had heretofore weighed them down. Vol taire did not deny that there was a religion without fanaticism. But this, at the best, was the mere good-natured faith of narrow souls, who, without pressing their opinions upon others, receive without questioning what others offer them. He had not the shghtest conception of a faith which is self-conscious, of a power of faith pervaded and upheld by pure love, of an unshaken, courageous, and inspired faith, as distinguished from blind fanaticism. That he should therefore conceive of Protes tantism only outwardly, either as mere illuminism or as a piece of fanaticism (only of another sort), is not so much a matter of surprise. But even the phenomena of a pure piety, which were presented to him by his church and country in the hves of such men as Pascal and Fenelon, were to him an enigma, and he could only explain them after his lop-sided fashion. He admired the wit with which Pascal threshed the Jesuits, but pitied his prejudices in favor of Jansenism. Fenelon's purity and good- hearteclness stirred him; but he did not trouble himself to follow up these virtues, to see from what deep fountains they proceeded. Still, notwithstanding all this, it were wrong to judge him too sternly here ; for, amidst such deformities as offered themselves for Christianity, it would be easy to misunderstand the profound nature of Christianity itself. Deism was only the reaction of fanaticism in England, and also in France. Eventually, noble ' spirits might be drawn into such a movement; and if Voltaire had written nothing but the tractate on toleration, we might, nay, we ought to forgive its partiality, and honor the sentiment with which he undertook his task. It required courage at that time to meet the champions of fanaticism, and this courage Voltaire displayed. From many quarters he was warned not to mix him self up with the strife, as it could bring him nothing but trouble; TOLERATION THE WATCHWORD OF THE CENTURY. 27 but he answered by referring to the Parable of the Good Samar itan: "In my desert," said he, "I have found the Israelite in his blood; allow me to pour into his wounds the oil and the wine. Others may take part with the Levite, but' I will be the Samar itan."1 From that hour, toleration became the watchword of the cen tury, and who would not rejoice to see the flag of freedom erected at last on the smoking and blood-furrowed hills, notwithstanding it might reveal a color in which tints of error might be seen to glimmer, and might be blown in the wrong direction by a per verse wind? Only we must be careful not to esteem such a phe nomenon too highly, not to accept the false peace for the true, nor to imagine that we have solved the riddle of history and of the human heart with empty, hollow-sounding words and phrases. It appears to me, therefore, to be appropriate to this lecture to address ourselves more minutely to the word and conception of. toleration. The word is sometimes used in a political, and sometimes in a moral and religious sense. We hear of toleration be tween states, of a reciprocal tolerance of diverse beliefs in. civil society, and of tolerance between individuals. Funda mentally, the word has its full meaning only in the first re lation, — that is, the pohtical. In a state which rests upon a,< religious foundation, and therefore acknowledges a positive religion as the state-religion, toleration must refer exclu sively to those who differ from the established faith; and where this toleration is complete, the state is to be regarded as- happy, even though the parties tolerated have no political rights. In these late times, the ideas have been perverted to such an extent that this description of toleration has come to be regarded as insufficient, or, indeed, to be described as, intolerance. Suppose a mistaken liberalism to carry toleration to such a length that confessional differences should have no influence on pohtical rights ; that every man, Catholic and Prot estant, and, finally, Jew and Mohammedan, should take equal parts in the management of public affairs, so that, for these affairs, religion, as such, shall be a matter of no moment. 1 Oeores. Vol. XXX. p. 264. 28 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. According to such a view, states in which there is a perfect equality of all the citizens would be the best and happiest in the world. But experience has taught the opposite. Precisely in those states where each party in religion has the same pohtical authorization is the foundation laid for endless strife. We need not go far for examples.1 When, on the contrary, the commonwealth rests on one rehgious and confessional foun dation (whether Catholic or Protestant), but where every confession is under the protection of the same laws, and each man has the right freely to confess and practice his rehgion, there rule, — within wise limitations of pohtical rights, — the 1 [It is unfortunate that Dr. Hagenbach does not furnish us with these examples. We totally dissent from his view, and hold, that political dis order and excitement have their origin in other causes than in perfect confessional liberty. In fact, political revolution in Europe, studied care fully, is generally attributable to confessional oppression. The convulsion of 1848 took its rise as much in confessional as in political causes. The history of the United States, now covering nearly a century, is a proof that denominational equality gives real stability to a government, a fact abundantly verified by the voluntary part taken by the American Church in the late Rebellion. Without perfect confessional equality, the govern ment of the United States, in all probability, could not have stood a quarter of a century. — Alexander Vinet, with the author also a native of Switzerland, was an earnest advocate of the total separation of church and state, and his views were established on experience as well as careful study. Far from attributing social disorder to confessional liberty, be assumes the very opposite position. His words are well worthy of careful consideration: "The high-sounding words of anarchy and individualism neither awe nor alarm me. 'What,' I am asked, 'is to become of a society of believers where each professes private views?' Why, what is that to me, provided their individual professions be sincere? I, in my turn, ask, 'What becomes of a spiritual society from whick liberty is banished? ' I ask, 'What, in a system of reservation and afterthoughts, becomes of truth, the first of all interests, — truth, for which alone a spiritual society is suffered to exist?' Anarchical, say you; and wherefore then? Ah! be sure such a society would escape anarchy from the very fact of having given itself for a centre the great principle of absolute sincerity. This principle alone would serve it as a religion, if such a principle could exist independently of religion. ... A civil government is a bad guardian of symbolism. . . . The progress of liberty has not injured that of Prot estantism, nor has the progress of Protestantism injured that of liberty.'' Outlines of Theology, pp. 360 f., 372, 454. — J. F. H.] FALSE. TOLERATION. 29 true toleration and a secure peace. This is at least true, in the fuUest sense, of smaUer states, where the confessions are exposed constantly to reciprocal attrition. But even in larger states, parity of rights is always producing great entangle ments. We need refer only to the single instance of the con troversy respecting mixed marriages.1 It is quite different in private life, where individual stands over against individual, man against man, conviction against conviction, and conscience against conscience. Here the word toleration does not go far enough. It easily comes to mean too httle or too much. We mean entirely too much by it when we demand of the party tolerating that he shall esteem aU reUgions alike, that he shall be content with any and every belief, that he shall not have rights in conflict with another in rehgious matters, and that he shall conform to the notions and inclinations of another out of mere politeness. This is the toleration of shallowness, of cowardice, of reli gious indecision, of religious indifference, — a toleration like that of Voltaire and his devotees, that finally and easily de generates tp intolerance, which is the hatred of every one who wishes to hold and to profess a firm and positive religion. Such persons must come at last to regard the tolerating party as unyielding and stiff-necked. Such was the toleration of the Romans, which was so much praised by Voltaire. It soon came to an end with the Christians, because they neither could nor would submit to a strange worship. Nothing, how ever, is more foolish or more opposed to true toleration than precisely this effort to force this toleration upon those who do not agree with us in opinion, for toleration no more ad mits of force than religion does. We mean, however, too httle by the word toleration when we understand by it merely outward forbearance, — namely, 1 Of course we do not speak here of the confessional state in every re lation. When the circumstances demand parity, we accord the principles set forth in the striking book of Hundeshagen, Her Deutsche Protestantis- mus, etc. , Frankfort, 1847, p. 333 ; or even in what Bunseu lays down in his Zeichen der Zeit, Book 2.; p. 75; for in no case can we conceive of toleration in the narrow sense of Stahl in his Vortr&ge ilber Toleranz. 30 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. that although we are not to assault and slay for the sake of rehgion, yet we may live in continual inward hostility, and even inwardly and uncharitably judge and condemn each other. This was the toleration exercised by the Catholic Bishop in Poland, of whom Voltaire tells.1 He had an Ana baptist for a tenant, and a Socinian for a steward. When he was reproached for it, he replied, that "he knew they would be damned in the next world, but he might make good use of them in this." This is a horrible toleration, and only dis tinguishable from fanaticism by the fact that it erects its scaffold in thought instead of deed; that it keeps it for the future instead of setting it up right on the spot. And yet how many Christians occupy this position in relation to one another! They live together in seeming peace; asso ciate in business; see each other daily, as members of one family, as citizens of one state, and frequently, indeed, as members of one church ; and yet they anathematize each other in heart, and even backbite with the tongue. Is this the toleration of Christianity or of Protestantism? Assuredly not. Christianity goes beyond mere toleration, and indeed pos sesses something different from it. It has faith and love, and after these are realized, Christianity must sometimes appear in the eyes of the world as tolerant, and at others as in tolerant. When Voltaire says, that the ancient religions (excepting the Jewish) being strangers to intolerance, this intolerance consequently has its origin in Christianity, he is not wholly wrong. In a certain sense, Christianity was intolerant, and had to be, just as Judaism, its predecessor, was obliged to be from its very nature. The other religions of antiquity had gods, but not one God; they had different forms of worship, but no faith. Thus it happened that the Romans were able to take the divinities of conquered nations into their own realm of deities, and the Emperor Alexander Severus could place the statue of Christ by the side of Orpheus and other heroes and demigods. The Christians and Jews could do nothing of this sort; they discriminated sharply between the 1Oevres. Vol. XXX. p. G8. REAL TOLERATION. 31 living God and vain idols. Hence, they were not tolerated, and hence they brought upon themselves the hatred of the human race. Faith in one true and living God, as repre sented in various ways by both Christians and Jews, neces sarily excluded the worship of other gods. If Jehovah rep resents himself in the Old Testament as a jealous God, who will not give his honor to another, Christianity is just as exclusive when it declares that there is only one way to come to God. Even Protestantism is exclusive, not in confining salvation to its own visible church (it never did that), but in so far as it disallows everything which does not agree with the rightly understood Christian revelation, — everything which does not accord with the Word of God. Love goes hand in hand with this firm faith which refuses , to be forced or shaken. It is this love which, while it wiU not compel the faith of others, is still unwearied in its efforts to draw them over to itself; which, scorning to persecute, will itself endure persecution; and which, to the utmost of its power, bears with the weak, and, as the Apostle says, "becomes aU things to all men." So far, then, as this love beareth aU things, it well deserves to be called toleration; but it goes beyond what is usually understood by toleration, beyond the mere "live and let hve," and, in certain cases, is wUling to suffer the imputation of intolerance, of officious- ness, and of fanaticism, when it may succeed in winning others. We have here, indeed, a very fine line to draw, and one difficult to keep distinctly in mind. This is a matter of daily experience. Precisely here we fall into the mistake of confounding mere matters of religious opinion with faith itself; in our haste and impatience to bring over those who differ from us, we lay hands offensively on what is sacred to them, and awaken their distrust, or even their hostil ity. But even where much stress is laid on religious opinions, there is apt to be wanting, if not a sincere love, at least that real discernment of love which clearly perceives the genuine rehgious emotions and tone of the opponent, and that true tenderness and prudence which avoid what must necessarily do harm. This real discernment of love can be secured 32 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. by the continued exercise of love, for true evangelical charity cannot fail to unite the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove; and, in the secure and quiet path which it follows, it must triumph over false zeal on the one side and a false tolerance on the other. The love which is zealous for the faith is distinguished from fanaticism, and forever separated from it, by the fact that it despises aU ignoble means, whether it be moral or physical violence. It must conquer only by the Word, not by fire and sword. This was the feeling of Luther, and has been the sphit of the genuine Christians of all ages. WhUe we freely confess that the eighteenth century, as distinguished from the fanaticism of previous periods, secured a recognition of the fundamental principles of toleration, and while we give thanks to Him who made even the pen of Vol taire serviceable in so good a cause, we must still not forget that the deeper foundation, on which reposes the weU-being of states and of individuals, was laid much earlier. We mean the foundation of faith and love, and only where these are guarded can even the toleration of the century produce the desired fruit. From this digression we return to the later history of Protestantism in France. What remains may be briefly told. Louis XVI. was kindly disposed toward his Protestant sub jects; indeed, a year before the breaking out of the Revo lution, that is, on the 29th of January, 1788, he issued an ordinance considerably softening the earlier edicts. The French Revolution, in the following year, placed the Protestants and Catholics upon an equal footing, and realized the fundamental principles of Voltaire both in regard to toleration and other things. And just here we have a striking proof of how little these principles can accomplish when they are a mere theory, a dead abstraction of the understanding, unsupported by an elevated moral or religious spirit. It is true that religious inquisitions came to an end; but in the place of rehgious fanaticism came that of politics; and how it fared with liberty of speech and of opinion, is weU known to the world. But religious confession was not so free as it ap- CONSERVATISM OF TRUE PROTESTANTISM. 33 peared; there was simply a change of dogmas. Before, men affirmed certain things or died ; now, they . must deny the same things or suffer the same penalty. The tyranny over the conscience was the same, indeed, it was even more ter rible, we think, than at the period of Saint Bartholomew's Eve. Or which fanaticism is the worse, — that which pre+ends to be zealous for the honor of God, or that which offers up thousands of hmnan hves to the idol of an empty theory of liberty and equaUty? True Protestantism, as we have already seen, is, according to its innermost nature, anti-revolutionary; it favors political legitimacy; and hence, where its development is free, it can not be agreeable to revolutionary minds. Luther would cer tainly have died by the guillotine, and Calvin perhaps even sooner,, had they attempted to give currency to their doc trines in the time of the French Revolution; and every one is familiar with what the positive professors of Protestantism in the Alsace had to suffer under Eulogius Schneider's reign of terror. Or, if any one is ignorant of it, let him read the life of Lawrence Blessig.1 Under Napoleon I. the Protestants were not disturbed. The Charter of Louis XVIII- also promised them the protection of the law, but it is well known that the Restoration took its tone, even in respect to religious toleration, from the Romish priesthood and from the Jesuits. It therefore happened as late as the year 1815, in Lower Languedoc, the Department of Gard, that many thousands of Protestants were plundered and dispersed; many, indeed, suffered death, not to mention temporary oppressions, shghts, and enmities.2 During the "Hundred Days" the Prot estants were abused as Bonapartists, although their sympathy with Napoleon I. was neither so great nor so general as was represented. The Revolution of July, 1830, proclaimed Cathol icism as the religion of the majority of Frenchmen and as the religion of the state, and such a position was thus secured to Protestantism in France as it had never before 1 Published by Fritz; Strasburg, 1818. 2 Comp. Staudlin's Archiv fur Kirchengeschichte, 1823; Part m. p. 16; and especially Gieseler's Kirchengeschichte der neuesten Zeit. Bonn, 1855. 34 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. possessed. This position, however, is stUl uncertain, and remains to the present time more or less dependent on the changing circumstances.1 Let us now return to the early part of the last century, and cast a glance at our own country, Switzerland. Here, from the early days of the Reformation, there continued. to dominate the spirit of religious discussion, which had already arrayed, at different times, friends against friends on the battle-field. Once more do we see these flames of dissension bursting forth into a war-fire, and VUmergen, which had served as a battle-field as early as 1656, again becomes the theater of conflict between brothers. The dispute between the Toggenburgers and the Abbot of St. Gall, Leodegar Biirgisser, appeared at first to be purely political; it related mainly to the labor in road-buUding, which the Abbot had enforced upon those under his juris diction. It so happened, at the beginning, that even CathoUc locaUties, such as Schwyz, took part with the Toggenburgers against the Abbot, without regard to ecclesiastical differences. When they were taunted with giving support to heretics, the people of Schwyz, in the spirit of modern toleration, declared: "Even if the Toggenburgers were Turks and heathen, — though they are really our feUow-countrymen and confeder ates, — we would aid them in securing their rights." Af fairs did not, however, long preserve this purely pohtical aspect. Even in Toggenburg, the confessional differences led to serious disturbances. In the lower country, especially in Hennau, the majority were Catholics. About Easter, in the year 1709, they closed the church against the evangehcal party, and the result was a scuffle, attended with blows. Many were wounded; the .. schoolmaster of the Protestant party, an old man of seventy years of age, was so badly •Respecting the most recent instances of intolerance, especially the persecutions of certain Protestants in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany (the Madiai, Cecchetti), or concerning the attempted injury of certain reli gious societies and corporations, let the raader compare Bunsen's Zeichen der Zeit; Gelzer's Monatsblatter ; Marriott's Wahrer Protestant, and also Gieseler, and other writers. DISSENSION IN TOGGENBURG. 35 beaten by the. Catholic Messner that he was taken home for dead.1 Alarmed at this treatment, the Protestants at first sought shelter in the neighboring churches; but encouraged by their neighbors of Oberglatt to make a bold resistance, and supported by a company of young men, they returned a week afterward to Hennau, and again sought to enter the church. The Cathohc priest refused them, with hard words. But when the Protestants, who were assembled in the church yard in great numbers, threatened to attack the church, the priest said to them: "Ye Lutheran goats, I plainly see that to-day the power is with you;" and turning to his own flock, he said: "You, my lambs, must yield to the Lutherans this time." Immediately upon this, a stone was thrown which felled the Protestant pastor, a native of Basle, to the earth. The signal for battle was now given. The Protestants im mediately put themselves in the attitude of defence; broke into the church; pealed out an alarm on the bells; and the Oberglatters rushed in arms to their help. The Cathohc priest fled, and hid himself in the dove-cote. The Protestants pursued him, and led him, not without rough treatment, toward Lichtensteig. Here he was wrested out of their hands by a member of the Council, and placed in a Catholic inn to be guarded. Messner, who had abused the school master of the Protestants a week before, fared much worse. He was attacked by a company of young people, among whom was the schoolmaster's son, and was killed with many wounds. The Counselor sent off the priest, who went to Weil, where he was received with great honor as a martyr, and where the Te Deum was sung in honor of him. The Reformed preacher from Basle was dismissed, and, instead of him, a citizen of Zurich came to Hennau. Even this man, from fear of the CathoUcs, could only exercise his office by stealth. At first, to escape detection, he wore colored clothes, and afterwards was obliged to suffer much contemptuous treat ment from the Catholics. Meantime, the Catholic priest, after an absence of six weeks, was restored to his parish, under the protection of the Abbot, with many ceremonies. 1 Hottinger, Heh. Kircheng. Vol. IX. p. 96. 36 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. This is only one example of the degree to which the pas sions of men had become embittered. Though Schwyz had at first taken sides with Toggenburg, it soon changed its mind; especially when it saw the Reformed cantons of Berne and Zurich taking part with them as brethren in the faith. Hereafter, Schwyz was compelled to range itself with other Catholics as enemies of the true faith.1 The fire grew -hotter on both sides. The most of the Catholic cantons, stirred up by Diirler, the Mayor of Lucerne, went to the aid of the Abbot, who was in alliance with Austria. The Nuncio con tributed to them twenty-six thousand dollars for carrying on the war. On the Reformed side, WiUading, the Mayor of Berne, labored to incite the war-spirit. Antistes Klingler, of Zurich, preached in favor of the sword;2 and John Ulrich Nabholz, an experienced warrior, aided the Toggenburgers both by counsel and action. In Zurich and Berne extraor dinary prayer-meetings were held for the purpose of invoking the Divine aid; and for the same purpose the Catholics ordered processions, and procured from the Capuchins amulets and holy bullets. Attempts were still made at mediation. At Baden, an as sembly was held on the 29th of May, 1709. Arbitrators were appointed and proceedings begun; but aU in vain. All the means of reconciliation were exhausted, and in the spring of 1712 the war broke out. It began in Toggenburg. The city of Wyl, to which the forces of the Abbot had retired, was captured; the commander, Felber, was most shockingly mangled by his own people, and his corpse thrown into the Sitter. Nabholz, at the head of the victors, marched to St. Gall, — whose Abbot had fled to Augsburg, — and seized the Thurgau and the Rhine Valley. '"The blood of the old believing fathers," they write to the Abbot of St. Gall, "still flows in our veins." — Stadler, the man who had hitherto exercised the greatest influence, but was now suspected of being a secret member of the Reformed Church, fell as a traitor. 3 "The Philistines have formed an alliance with Tyre, the Amalekite, and the children of Lot, to destroy Israel in Toggenburg; and we are quietly permitting the sword which the Lord has committed to ns for protection to stay in its scabbard." THE TOGGENBURG WAR. 37 Meantime, the theater of the war extended to the shores of the Reuss and the Aar. where the two parties were about to make a decided trial of their strength. Two thousand Bernese crossed the Aar and united with twice that number of Zurichers, under their commander, Wertmiiller, at Dietikon. The Lucerners retired toward Bremgarten. A murderous con flict, the "Battle of the Bushes," gave the Bernese a bloody victory. The city of Baden, defended by a Colonel Crevelli of Uri, surrendered to Zurich, when its defences were demol ished. It was allowed to retain its Catholic worship, but did not dare to interfere with the erection of a Reformed church outside of the walls of the city. Soon after, the par ties began to arrange for peace. But Pope Clement IX. inter fered, and in the Catholic cantons again stirred the fire of war which seemed about to be extinguished. Austria and France promised help. The Jesuits and the Capuchins had seats in the council of war that sat at Stantz. The peace- party in Altorf and Lucerne still resisted. While the government was thus hesitating, on the 20th of July, the CathoUc cantons of Schwyz, Unterwalden and Zug, numbering about four thousand men, bearing on the points of their long lances the picture of St. Nicholas of Flue as a field-badge, and led by Knight Ackermann of Unterwalden, Colonel Reding of Schwyz, and Chief Bailiff Miiller of Zug, rushed forth from their camp at St. Wolfgang. They went round by the Gyss- lick bridge and stormed the village of Sins, where a bloody fight took place in the churchyard and even in the church, between them and two hundred Bernese commanded by Colo nel Monnier. The scene would have been still more deadly, had not Ackermann, the Unterwald leader, held back those who were fiercest. The Bernese officer, Manuel von Cronay, fell on the steps of the altar by the blows of a private citizen, and the bodies lay in heaps as well in the church as in the churchyard. Bloody battles were fought in the vicinity of Lake Zurich, near Hiitten, where Colonel Wertmiiller, of Zurich, had posted himself, and at Bellenschantze, which was defended by Keller, the aged captain. In both places the attack was made by Vol. L— 4 38 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the forces of Schwyz, united with those of Zug ; but they were driven back with great loss. In Lucerne, the wavering gov ernment was compelled by an uprising of the people to enter into the war; it was suspected of the Lutheran heresy, and bloodshed was only prevented by the labors of the self- possessed Canon Meglinger. The Catholic parties to the war, about twelve thousand strong, assembled at Mury under the leadership of Sonnenburg and Pfyfer. The Bernese were encamped at Vilmergen, and the great battle was fought on St. James' Day, the 25th of July. The war-cry of the Prot estants was, "God with us," and that of the CathoUcs, "Jesus Mary!" The victory remained in doubt six hours. The Bernese had already given the struggle up for lost, when the aged Venner Frisching placed himself at their head, with the words, "Children, I will be your father and die with you; do not leave me!" The courage of the Bernese now rose, and increased in proportion to the increase of disorder among the Catholics. By six o'clock in the evening, the victory of the Reformed was complete. It was a sad victory. Two thousand Catholics lay dead on the battle-field, among whom were General Pfyfer, of Lucerne, and other leaders. The Bernese had lost their Marshal Tscharner, and with him many other officers, and two hundred and forty privates. Many on both sides were wounded, and the deepest wound of all, the old malice, still remained in the hearts of the two parties. The peace which was concluded in August at Aarau contained, among its provisions, reUgious liberty for Toggen burg. Neither were worldly advantages altogether forgotten; part of the possessions of the Abbot passed over to Zurich and Berne; and if certain Catholic cantons, as Freiburg, for instance, had been accustomed to celebrate the first battle of Vilmergen, fought in 1656, as a holiday, it now fell to the turn of the Bernese to enjoy the satisfaction of commemorat ing the second battle of Vilmergen,— that of 1712.1 1 Further description of the war may be found in Schuler's Thaten und Sitten der Eidgenossen, Vol. III. p. 92. ff.; and especially in the continua tion of John von Miiller's Schweizer-G-eschichte, by Vuillemin. Zurich, 1845 Vol. X. (HI.) p. 482. ff. CULTIVATION OF A BETTER SPIRIT. 39 Since the days of Vilmergen, the fire has ghmmered under the ashes. It has been somewhat repressed by a nobler spirit in both churches; revolutionary characters, however, of both parties have again kindled it, and only very recently the soil of Vilmergen has again been stained with blood; — an earnest assurance for us that what seemed to us for years impossible was still lying in the dark womb of possi bility. In the presence of these possibly serious battles, let us not weakly tremble, but inwardly arm ourselves with the right spirit, so that the day of the Lord may not overtake us as a thief in the night. Here, again, we see that it is not the toleration of- vulgar liberalism, nor mere indifference, either in politics or religion, but rather integrity and faith, that will prove, in every case, the firmest support. LECTURE HI. RELIGIOUS AFFAIRS IN GERMANY. — THE PALATINATE. — THE DAYS OF TERROR AT THORN. — THE EMIGRATION OF THE EVANGELICAL SALZBURGERS. Continuing in this lecture the external history of Protest antism, let us direct our attention to Germany. Since the Peace of Westphaha (1648), affairs had been so far adjusted that a regular religious war like that which had drenched Germany in blood for thirty years was no longer possible. A thorough and secure peace, however, had by no means been reached. Many parts of Germany were still continually exposed to innumerable commotions. This was especially true of the Palatinate. It has already been noticed in previous lectures,1 that after the death of the last of the Reformed rulers of the country, in 1685, their place was occupied by the Catholic hne of Palatine-Neuburg, and that matters changed with the Protestants for the worse. We may see here the truth of a remark in our last lecture? namely, that a mixed condition of religion is not the most desirable for a country; and since the Peace of Rysswick, in 1697, we have' had various opportunities to become assured. When, in 1719, the Heidelberg or Palatine Catechism, —the common Confession of the Reformed Church, — had been adopted anew, the CathoUcs were very urgent that the Eightieth Ques tion, in which the Mass is described as "an accursed idolatry," should be altered. The Catechism had appeared in 1563, under Frederick III., of the Palatinate, and very naturally employed 1 See my Vorlesungen, Part. IV. p. 117. 2nd Ed. STRIFE IN HEIDELBERG. 41 the bold, strong language of the period of the Reformation. Of course, this language was now no longer appropriate, for the period required that every cause of offence to opposing parties should be anxiously avoided. The Catholics saw in the passage, which attacked the most sacred portion of their religious service, a coarse violation of the respect which the Protestants owed to the authorities of the country. And this was all the more the case as the new edition of the Cat echism bore on its title-page the arms and privUege of the Elector. This, however, was an addition made by the printer, on his own responsibihty. It might appear that Protestants could soften this strong passage a little without damage to the truth, but this was not so light a matter as to be effect ed by a mere stroke of the pen. The Heidelberg Catechism was not private property, but a pubhc confession of faith, a common possession of the Reformed Church. It was well known to all, and found in aU hands; used as a text-book in all schools and churches; and was a testimony, and part of the records, of the evangelical faith, as the fathers were famUiar with it in the time of the great struggle. Therefore, thus wilfully to alter, and thereby to blot and destroy, the grand recollections of the Reformation, looked like a betrayal of the truth, and a deceitful compliance with the spirit of the age. The strife, meantime, was not confined to the Cat echism. In the same year, the Church of the Holy Ghost was taken away from the Reformed in Heidelberg. They and the Catholics had used it in common, the former occupying the nave of the church, and the Catholics the choir. This resulted in great disturbance. The principal Protestant powers, as Great Britain, Prussia, Hesse-Cassel and the States of the United Netherlands, interfered. Besides these, the Evangelical Body at Regensburg, — the authorities represent ing the Protestant interest in the Imperial Diet, — also pro tested. Reprisals were threatened. Finally, the Elector gave way, but removed his court from Heidelberg to Mannheim. Yet, even after this, there were collisions and sUght perse cutions. Among other things, the Protestant shoemakers were menaced with death because they refused to contribute 42 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. to a festival in honor of St Crispin, the Patron of shoe makers. 1 It was chiefly the Jesuits who instigated the persecutions of the Protestants here, as indeed everywhere else. What \ \ took place in the West of Germany, occurred also in the East. In Silesia and Poland, the hereditary states of Austria, the old scenes were renewed. We cannot describe all the individual cases. But the days of terror in the Polish city of Thorn, in the year 1724, deserve a particular account. The better part of this city was inhabited almost exclusively by Protestants ; the masses of the lower class consisted of Catholics, over whom the priesthood, and the Jesuits in particular, exercised a powerful control. The Protestants of Thorn had enjoyed freedom of worship since the time of King Sigismund Augustus, in 1557, and since 1581 had enjoyed the advantage of a Lutheran Gymnasium. To them had been given the Church of St. Mary within the city, and another church in the suburbs, while the rest of the churches were used by the Cathohcs. In addition to this, the free exercise of religion had been guaranteed to all Dissenters in Poland by the Peace of Oliva, in 1660. But toward the end of the sixteenth century (1593), the Jesuits insinuated themselves into the city of Thorn, and in 1605 built a Seminary, which naturally became the occasion of frequent collisions with the Protestant school. We have an example of this in the manner in which the Jesuits and their friends perverted an academi cal discourse of the Lutheran Professor Ahrend, delivered on Good Friday, in 1716. Ahrend characterized the conduct of Caiaphas, the High Priest, in strong language. What he said against the Jewish Pontifex Maximus, however, was explained by his enemies as having been said against the Pope. The result was an investigation, which ended in the Lutheran Pro fessor leaving the city and settling in Danzig. This was only the prelude to a matter of more serious import. On the 16th of July, 1724, when the Jesuits were going through with an ecclesiastical procession, and all by standers, especiaUy the Protestants, were required to make 1 Forster, Geschichte Friedrich Wilhelms I. Vol. II., p. 328. DAYS OF TERROR IN THORN. 43 a show of reverence by bowing the knee to the host, some of the Dissenters refused the obeisance. The pupils of the Jesuits began immediately to abuse and insult them. One of these pupils, who had been especially zealous, was imprisoned. The Jesuits violently demanded his release. When this was refused, the Poles among the pupils of the Jesuits seized their sabres, and rushed tumultuously through the streets, and into the very dwellings of the Protestant citizens. They seized a member of the Protestant Gymnasium as he stood in" his night-gown, in his own door, and, with much rough treat ment, dragged him off to the Jesuit College as a hostage. This place was immediately surrounded by the people ; the up roar became general; and the prisoner was finally released by his feUow-students. But the matter did not end here. The storm of the aroused mass was not to be quieted. The Jesuits had entrenched themselves in their CoUege as in a fastness; from there they threw stones upon the people, and even some shot at them from the windows. The . enraged people were" excited by this violence to retaliation. Roused to rage, they took the Jesuit CoUege by storm, destroyed everything that came in their way, and publicly burnt a ¦ quantity of fur niture. In this moment of transported rage, the popular anger was naturally directed most bitterly against those things which the CathoUcs held most sacred, such as their holy pictures and utensils, which were now destroyed and treated with con tempt. And this was not attributed to the real perpetrators, — who, indeed, were difficult to find when the storm was past, — but to the whole body of the Protestants, and espe cially to the magistrates, as blasphemy, and as insolent contempt of the Cathohc religion. In vain had they exerted all their authority to warn off the lawless crowd from violence, and to disperse the masses. They were nevertheless held responsible for all, and must make atonement for all. A court was constituted, made up of twenty-two members, aU of whom were CathoUcs, chiefly Polish bishops and peers. Prince Lubomirsld, as President, opened the session with the words: "Welcome, my Lords, to the judgment of God!" Burgomaster Rosner, who was sixty-six years old, and 44 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. who had always faithfully served his king, was placed at the bar of this bloody judgment-seat, and he and his Vice-Presi dent, Zernecke, besides nine other citizens, were condemned to death. The only crime of the Vice-President was, that he re fused to sell his house, which stood by the side of the Jesuit Col lege, to that Order. He was permitted to purchase his life for sixty-thousand guldens. The sentence was executed upon all the others in the most cruel manner. Eight widows and twenty-eight orphans mourned for the murdered men. Many others were deprived of their liberty, and seriously injured both in honor and property. The Protestant powers of Prussia and Sweden, together with Russia, protested in vain to the PoUsh king, Augustus II. The affair did not cease with the execution of individuals. The aim was to do the same thing for Protestantism in Thorn, — it must die too. The Church of St. Mary was taken from the Prot estants; their Gymnasium was removed outside of the city; and a strict censorship of the press established for Thorn. But this occasioned a manifestation of the old joy of faith, which was so conspicuous among the early professors of Christianity. When the Jesuits and Dominicans visited the burgomaster in prison to induce him to recant, under the pretext of a milder sentence, his answer was: "Be satisfied with my head, — Jesus shall have my soul." His head fell by the hand of the executioner. After this, when they were leading another of the condemned citizens, the tanner Hartel, to the place of execution, he said: "God be praised! Our innocent father has overcome, and we will joyfully follow him!" The Jesuits, however, celebrated their triumph with great demonstrations, and gave to the hangman Von Plozk, when he returned from his bloody work to his place of residence, a safe conduct and the services of a band of music. On the other hand, it is said that the papal Nuncio at Warsaw sent to Bene dict XIII. an account of the whole affair, in which he entirely condemned it.1 1 Comp. Dome, Thorn's Schrechenstage im Jahre 1724. Danzig, 1826; and Krasinski, Geschichte der Beformation in Polen, translated by Lindan. Leipzig, 1841; p. 343 ff. CESSATION OF MARTYRDOM. 45 The fate of the Protestants in Poland, like the history of the country itself, remained a sad one. Especially Soltyk, the Bishop of Cracow, set himself to oppose everything done by foreign powers, particularly by Russia, to give them relief. In1 1767, the rights of the Polish Dissenters were again re stored to them by treaty; but this did not last. Finally, the partition of the kingdom, in 1773, gave part of Poland to the Protestant government of Prussia, another part to Catholic Austria, and the largest part to Russia; and thus the fate of Dissent in Poland was involved in the events which were then befalling Protestantism. So far we have learned that the eighteenth century was not free from scenes of blood. But we have now passed beyond the hmits of these scenes. And if the barbarities and horrors which, out of respect for tender feelings, we have not fully painted, but which, for the sake of a faithful picture, we would not entirely omit, have here and there given pain to some heart, we can now give assurance that similar recitals shall not occur again. But if from these bloody limits we cast another glance upon the corpses of all those slaughtered from the time of the Reformation to the present; indeed, if we examine the whole history of martyr dom as far back as the earhest persecutions of the Christians, there are certain observations which we cannot faU to make. These sanguinary records of martyrdom, as the church has written them from the first to the last instance, certainly have for us a high importance. Not, indeed, as we before remarked (see Lecture I.), that these martyrdoms were of themselves sufficient to estabhsh the truth; for even fanatics have died for their notions, and impostors have con tinued to play their part down to the very scaffold. But where truth is otherwise estabhshed, by the demonstration of the Spirit and of power, martyrdom seals it as with the seal of fire. Besides this, it has a moral significance. We shall, of course, be reminded that these historic accounts are well suited to excite the imagination, to stir up wonder and terror here, or pity there, but that they are so far removed from us in point of time that they have no power to move us to 46 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. imitation. And, indeed, it almost seems as if this were so; for we still hear it proclaimed now and then, in ecstatic songs and high-sounding speeches, that we should offer our lives for the truth, that we should shed our blood for it, etc. But no one beheves such a thing to be any longer possible; such speeches leave us morally listless, because we comfort ourselves with the certainty that nothing of the sort is likely to be seriously demanded of us. So far as we can judge, the time is indeed gone when a man can be called to atone for his faith by the sacrifice of his hfe. And we bless God that it is even so ; and we give honor to the power of that toleration which has stopped the bloody streams which once flowed on account of religious faith. But let us not deceive ourselves. The saying of our Lord stUl pos sesses its significance: "For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall ifind it." What then is life? Is it only that span of time 'through which we pass in this world? Is it that naked exist ence which ceases with the last breath? Or does it not con sist rather of a thousand gentle and yet strong threads which chain us to life ; and if a single thread were cut, do we not lose a portion of our life? The more the sum of life's enjoyment increases among men, the tougher, as a rule, are those bonds which bind us to this earthly existence. Do not prosperity, ¦convenience, familiarity with certain daily recurring engage ments, and honor and respect among men, exert upon us a might, of which we only become fully conscious when one or another of these bonds is loosed? And though we are no longer called upon to ascend the scaffold, or to offer our neck to the ax for the sake of the gospel, yet even the smallest demand that may be made upon us, can, when duty requires, sever us from the bonds that unite us to hfe. And that this obligation might be brought nearer home, and we be left without excuse, history has preserved for us other examples of bloodless sacrifice, which have nevertheless made many a heart to bleed, and to which we may hold all the more firmly because they correspond both to our times and to our strength. If we now hear of people who have not THE EVANGELICAL SALZBURGERS. 47 indeed suffered death for the truth's sake, but who have given up the repose and comfort of life, have left house and home, and have broken the dearest bonds of friendship in order to serve God according to the dictates of their con science, we must be led to examine whether, under similar circumstances, -we could follow such an example. We now propose to pass on to the history of the Evan- gehcal Salzburgers. Even in the earlier times there had shone out, in the Archiepiscopal See of Salzburg, a gleam of the pure, evan- geUcal doctrine. The teachings of Huss had penetrated that mountainous region as early as the fifteenth century, and it was not long unacquainted with the Reformation of Luther. Staupitz, the noble friend of Luther, ended his days here in the quiet of a monastery. And though this pious but timid man displayed in his own person but little zeal for the Ref ormation, stiU the Salzburgers had such men preaching through their country, and through the Tyrol generally, as Stephen Agricola, Paul Speratus, Wolfgang Russ, Urbanus Rhegius, George Scharer, and others. This was the reason why Luther's Translation of the Bible, and so many edifying books of the Protestants, especially the Augsburg Confession and Luther's Catechism, found their way into the valleys and cottages of this region. In earlier times, indeed, Catholicism attacked these novelties with zeal; the preachers of the gos pel were in some cases imprisoned, in others driven off, and one of them, George Scharer, was beheaded in 1528. It was especiaUy the archbishops who felt themselves called upon, by their duty to their rehgion, to keep out the heresy. They were not, however, all equally stringent, and hence it hap pened that, under a mild government, Protestantism advanced quietly, while under a severer one it was stirred to still mightier resistance. The same means used in the South of France to convert the Huguenots were employed with the Lutheran Salzburgers. The Capuchins were first sent as preachers of repentance, and then followed upon their heels the dragoons, with the sword. Emigration of individual families began as early as the first ) ) 48 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. part of the seventeenth century; the number that left was six hundred; the most of the remainder were forcibly driven back to their homes, and at the same time forced into the bosom of the Romish Church. Somewhat later, however, about the end of 1684, the Arch bishop Maximilian Grandolf issued an edict, driving out of the country, in midwinter, aU Protestants refusing to be con verted, and requiring fathers and mothers to leave behind diem all children under fourteen years of age, that they might be brought up in the Roman Catholic religion. These exiles met a kind reception in Swabia and Central Germany, especially in the free cities of Nuremberg and Frankfort. The light penetrated even into the depths of the Tyrolese mines— the same light with which the son of the Saxon miner had illumined the darkness of the church, and the darkness of men's hearts. The gay labor-songs of former times now gave place to the earnest and devout hymns of Luther. Their fraternities became so many homes of evan geUcal freedom, and the peculiar jurisdiction of the mining region protected the new believers from priestly inquisition. The German Bible and Luther's writings first found their way into the darkness of these mine-pits, and from thence they passed into the hands of the nobihty and the people. To secure these holy books, theh: owners hid them in cellar- vaults and in secret closets in the walls. Thus it hap pened in recent times, that, in breaking through a wall in the Castle of Anger, near Klausen, aU sorts of Lutheran books, of the time of the Archduke Ferdinand, were dis covered.1 About the year 1685, the miners in the vicinity of HaUein, under the leadership of the enlightened Joseph Schaitberger, made open profession of their evangeUcal faith. They utterly despised the bonds and imprisonment which came upon them in consequence, and defied the Mendicant Monks who were sent to their prisons to convert them. More than a thousand of them preferred banishment to the denial of their faith; 1 Compare Beda Weber, Tyrol und die Beformalion. Innsbruck, 1841; p. 48. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. 49 they left their country, and many of them found homes in Swabia and Franconia. Schaitberger gained his bread in Nu remberg by wood-chopping and wire-drawing. This same Schaitberger and his Confession of Faith were held in high esteem by the adherents of Protestant doctrine who still re mained in the country. He was their patriarch, as it were, and his Song of Exile, which we will give further on, formed, together with his Evangelical Epistle, of 1688, the chief means of edification and support for believing hearts in a time of great trial. He returned three times from his exile and strengthened his brethren. These people, under the mild rule of the Archbishops John Ernest and Francis Anton, enjoyed a long repose ; but it was far otherwise under the government of Leopold Anton, Baron of Firmian, who ascended the Archiepiscopal throne of Salzburg, on the 3d of October, 1727. Leopold Anton was not without learning, and a certain natural goodness of heart; but his avarice, which was hampered by his propensity for drinking and for pleasure, especially for the chase, had gradually hard ened his heart; drunkenness had clouded his mind, and the chase had made him reckless. In the heat of a drunken fit, on one occasion, he swore he would drive the heretics out of the land, even if their fields overgrew with thorns and thistles. He kept his oath right loyaUy. He and his chancellor, Hier- onymus Christian von Rail, used all their power to make the stay of the Protestants in the land miserable, and pushed them to the last degree. First they used mild means, and the Jesuits were called in to aid them. It was to be their occupation to bring back the wanderers to the right path, to represent Catholicism to them in the most beautiful forms, and to try every theatrical art to attract them back. Im perceptibly, however, cunning passed over into violence. Bibles and other edifying books were taken from them, and in their place were put by force the rosary and the scapulary. Who ever was disinclined to receive this change kindly, was treated as a rebel. Hans Lerchener, of Obermais, in the jurisdiction of Radstadt, and Veit Breme, of Unterschwabock, in the jurisdiction of Werfen, were put in irons because they 50 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. would neither deliver up their Bibles nor abjure their faith. They were driven over the border, leaving nine children to mourn their departure. The exiles went to Regensburg, and in January, 1730, applied to the authorities — to the Corpus Evangelicorum — which had been intrusted with the interests of the Evangehcal Church of Germany. These authorities addres sed, in the first place, a letter to Baron von Zillerberg, the plenipotentiary of the Archbishop at the Diet; their request was refused, and even the Archbishop himself, to whom the authorities now addressed themselves, showed but Uttle in clination to change his line of conduct — indeed, he became worse and worse. A number of people, found in the posses sion of Bibles and Lutheran books, were punished by fine and imprisonment, and then driven out of the country. Once more the cry of distress reached the ears of the authorities at Regensburg; but the dilatory transaction of business there was not calculated to bring speedy relief. The very continuance of oppression, by and by, brought help of itself. After insult had been carried to the highest possible pitch by the house-searchings which Court Chan cellor Rah, at the head of a commission, and under pretense of peaceful objects, had set on foot, and by the quartering of soldiers among the people which soon followed, the Prot estants felt more than ever the necessity of a close and firm bond, a fraternization for life and death. And on the 5th of August, 1731, the Sunday before St. Lawrence' Day, in the early morning twilight, more than a hundred men, from every mountain defile, took their way over the rocky paths and down to Schwarzach, a market-village in the jurisdiction of Goldecker, and in the inn of that place seated themselves around a table, on which was placed a salt-cellar. Each man, with earnest prayer, dipped the wetted fingers of his right hand into the salt, and lifting them toward heaven took a solemn oath. To the true, Triune God they swore never to desert the evangelical faith, and then swallowed the salt as if it had been a sacramental wafer. And, since it is re corded in Second Chronicles, 13th chapter and 5th verse, that Jehovah made with David and his seed a covenant of TROOPS EMPLOYED AGAINST THE PROTESTANTS. 51 salt, that is, a covenant of friendship never to be broken, they called their sacred compact, from that time, the Cove nant* of Salt. When the news of this Covenant came to the ears of the Archbishop, he felt as the cantonal Governors of Switzerland did when they heard of the Grutli Covenant. Before his soul there moved pictures of insurrection and of dismay. It was bruited through the country that the Protestants had formed a conspiracy at Schwarzach for the murder of all the Cath olics. Self-defence became, of course, an immediate necessity, and toward this defence every thing was now directed. The Archbishop had already appealed to the Emperor Charles VI. at Vienna, whither the Protestants had sent a fruitless depu tation. The Emperor aided the Archbishop with troops. On the 22d of September, over a thousand Austrian foot-soldiers appeared in Salzburg, and three regiments of cavalry fol lowed in October. In quartering the troops, six thousand in all, the burden fell mainly on the Protestants. The scenes of the dragonnades, as they had lately occurred in the South of France, were repeated. Meantime, Protestants were found among the very dragoons of Prince Eugene, who, in stead of oppressing their brethren in faith, were only too happy to seek edification with them in private, and to share with them • the Bread of Life. As soon, however, as this was discovered such dragoons were replaced by others. Ab out Michaelmas, many persons who were regarded as the leaders of the party, were taken from their beds in the night, and dragged in chains to Salzburg, where horrible prisons awaited them. Such proceedings awakened among those who were still free an increased longing to depart from a country, which, by continued oppressions, had been converted into a very perdition. They began to consider how they might reach a foreign country. All the passes were guarded, and emigration was a crime which was sure to increase the punishment which in any event awaited them. Finally, they succeeded in getting round the posts on the borders, and making their way to the places where they hoped for help. 52 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Two bold and resolute men, Peter Heldensteiner and Nich olas Forstreuter, started for Cassel, where the Swedish King, an hereditary prince of Hesse-Cassel, was then sojourning. This prince received the men kindly, though not without selfish motives. He had heard a great deal of the skill and capacity of the Tyrolese and the Salzburgers, and hoped to employ the one in the iron mines of Sweden, and to use the skilled hands of the other in carving and in the manufacture of toys, and thus increase the activity of trade in Hesse. But when he found that but few of them knew how to work in iron, and that the toys which he supposed to be the work of the Salzburgers were made by the people of Berchtes- gaden, the business man's zeal cooled, and he gladly resigned the honor of receiving these persecuted men to another, — and that other was soon found. Frederick William I., King of Prussia, the father of Fred erick IL, whom we intend to describe in the next lecture, showed himself worthy of his great ancestor, who, in a time of similar affliction, had opened his country to the oppressed Huguenots. He received kindly and yet cautiously these men now turning away from Cassel to Berhn, and this caution was aU the more needful because their enemies had not neg lected to tirculate all sorts of reports to their injury, charg ing them with Socinian and other heresies. Some even pre tended to quote from them: "It is enough that we confess God the Father, and the Holy Ghost; the Second Person is not essential;" indeed, "Christ died in despair on the cross, and therefore was condemned forever."1 Frederick William had both the Salzburgers carefully examined by his theolo gians, the Provosts Roloff and Reinbeck, and only when they were found orthodox, and in agreement with the Augsburg- Confession, did the king promise them assistance and a place of refuge, provided they should be driven out of their own country. 1 See, particularly, Gespriiche in dem Beiche der Lebendigen zwischen einem romisch Katholischen und evangelisch Lutherischen. Frankfort on the Main, 1732. Also Schulze, Die Auswanderung der evangelischen Sahburger. Gotha, 1838; p. 72. Many other works maybe consulted to ' advantage, especially Panse, Geschichte der Auswanderung. Leipzig, 1827. THE PATENT OF EMIGRATION. 53 They did not wait long ; expatriation, before forbidden, now became obUgatory under the so-called Patent of Emigration, published on the 31st of October, 1731. According to this or der, aU persons in the country not permanently settled residents, all farmers without poUtical rights, and all day-laborers and house-servants, who adhered to either the Augsburg Confession or to the doctrine of the Reformed Church, were required, under the heaviest penalties, to leave the country within one week. In like manner all the workmen in the mines, in the furnaces, and in the salt-works were to be at once dismissed without further pay. Such as were owners of houses or land were allowed from one to three months, at the end of which they were to be outlawed and declared stripped of all right, both of property and citizenship. Only those who within fifteen days should repent of their errors and abjure them, and should formaUy return to the Romish Church, were offered mercy. The Patent produced a general commotion. The EvangeUcal Body at Regensburg protested against it as a violation of the \ \ Peace of Westphalia. But the Archbishop replied that these people were rebels, and that as such he had the right to ex pel them. He would yield no further than to permit really permanent inhabitants to remain through the hardest part of the winter, and fixed St. George's Day, of the year 1732, as the limit of their stay. Meanwhile, to give effect to the edict in relation to such as did not belong to this class, there ap peared at the end of the first-fixed term, the 24th of November, two squadrons of dragoons, who, under the pretext of giving the poor creatures passes, drove them together with the rudest violence, and brought them to the archiepiscopal residence, where they were kept for a long time confined in prison before they were permitted to leave the country. From December, 1731, until November, 1732, the exiles might be seen in numerous companies and at various intervals starting on their long journey. The authorities do not agree on how many thus desolated the country by their departure; but the loss is set down as high as thirty thousand souls. We are unwilling to Unger among the scenes of distress which Vol. I.— 5 i. i. 54 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. their departure in the severe winter occasioned, nor would we repeat the acts of outrage and barbarity by which those scenes were made still more distressing. We would rather accompany them on their distant way as they leave the land of oppression behind them, and see them under God's free sky as they move along over the roads which his good angels have thrown up for them, where the atmosphere of a mUder spring, the breath of liberty, begins to blow around them, and where the prospect opens up to them of reaching, if not a paradise, without care or trouble, at least a new earthly fatherland. Such a land stood open to them on several sides. The two messengers had already received orally from the King of Prussia the assurance that he would remember them in the day of their troubles and banishment. This assurance was repeated in writing by the King on the 2nd of February, 1732: "From royal Christian pity and heart-felt sympathy he would reach them a loving hand, and receive them into his country." Every thoroughfare of his kingdom should be open to them, and all princes and states whose countries they might touch in passing should be entreated to aid them in their journey; it was a duty which one Christian owed to another. Every man should have for his daily expenses four groschens, and every woman and maiden three groschens, and every child two, to be paid out of the king's exchequer. They were to enjoy, if they settled, all the privileges and rights which belonged to other colonists, among which, non-liabiUty to taxation and other favors were especially understood. At the same time Frederick William sent a special commissioner, John Giibel, to Regensburg, to receive the emigrants, and to conduct them into Prussia. Besides this, the king made earnest representations to the Archbishop, and threatened re prisals against the Catholics residing in his own dominions. Denmark, Sweden, and the Republic of Holland did the same. In aU these countries, as also in other Protestant portions of Germany, the way stood open for the exiles. And we can trace the paths of their several parties as they journeyed from Kaufbeuren, the first Protestant city to which they came, to the North and Baltic Seas, indeed, even beyond the sea, to PUBLIC ATTENTIONS TO THE SALZBURGERS. 55 England and to North America. I shall confine myself to giving only a few things from the travel-reports and the bulle tins of those who received and entertained them. As might be expected, they did not meet with the same greeting in every place. Although the Archbishop himself had besought the Roman Catholic cities and countries through which they might pass not to hinder their progress, they still met here and there with opposition. The Catholic portion of the city of Augsburg especially distinguished itself for its hardness ; for, when the exiles drew near to their gates they ordered them shut immediately, as if they had been a hostile army, though they only numbered a Uttle over two hundred. The populace also of Donauworth insulted them. In the beginning; even certain Protestants regarded the movement distrustfully, for everywhere reports had been disseminated to the effect that the Salzburgers were a head-strong, hair-brained people, who, regarding no authority, were resolved, as in matters of faith so in other things, to follow their own caprice. Hence, even the Lutheran Superintendent, Cyprian, of Gotha, doubted whether or not they ought to be received and permitted to enjoy public benefits.1 But this fog of prejudice soon scat-' tered, and the cheerful, warm sun of sympathy, with the re turning beams of Spring, again shone in hopeful brightness on their path. Men came to honor in them the martyrs of the truth, the instruments of God who were called again to awaken a dead Christianity; they were regarded as a leaven which should again move and inspire the sluggish mass of evangelical Protestantism,2 and the more favorable were reports respecting the patience with which they bore their fate, the beautiful, quiet order of their marches, their exem plary deportment in the cities and in then- quarters, and con cerning the evangeUcal spirit which they everywhere displayed, the higher rose the common enthusiasm for them, and the stronger became the desire to provide for them and to do them good. Their march, therefore, through Germany assumed more and more the form of a triumphal procession. When 1 Schulze; p. 146. .* Compare Hie geistliche Fama (Sarden, 1732) 7th Part.; pp. 42, 46, 49. 56 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. they approached a city, the clergy, the youth of the schools, and representatives of the citizens went out to meet them, and in procession escorted them into the city amid the ringing of bells and with singing. Divine service was celebrated, addresses and sermons were delivered in honor of them; they were celebrated in poems, medals were struck in their mem ory, and feasts, simple but hearty, were prepared for them. Men strove for the honor of having them in their houses and entertaining them; each person wanted one or more of the Salzburgers under his own roof, and wished to hear him at his own fire-side recount the wonderful leadings of God and the adventures which he and his companions had experienced; and then to what a height did wonder rise when the host and his family, in these conversations, perceived how deeply these unlearned people were versed in the Bible, and how skillful they were, in the explanation of doctrine, and in reproof, and edification. Even the Jews vied with Christians in entertaining with patriarchal heartiness the strangers within their gates, and chimed in with the cry with which they were greeted, "Come in, ye blessed of the Lord; wherefore do ye stand without?" Indeed, through them, pious Israehtes are said to have become awakened to serious reflection.1 Even the charm of the miraculous was not wholly wanting, and that which, taken in its length and breath, was indeed a wonder ful work of God in the eyes of men, fixed itself firmly in the imagination of the people in narratives and stories, in which it was easy to see the effort to compare the exode of the Salzburgers with that of the Israelites, as well in regard to their miraculous preservation during their-journeys as to the ven geance which is said to have overtaken their wicked enemies.2 1 Compare Geistliche Forma, 7th Part. 2 Concerning their wonderful preservation by means of manna falling from heaven, etc., see the report of the Geistliche Fama in the succeeding lecture. Here are two anecdotes from the same source, (pp. 51, 52): ( "When the exiles were in the greatest danger from an attack of the soldiers, and night coming on meantime, it became so dark that they could not see their way; but all at once it seemed as if a star had fallen from heaven among them, whose light made it as bright around them as if the unclouded sun had shone out, so that they saw their way easily, THE STORY OF A SALZBURG MAIDEN. 57 AUowing these prodigies to take care of themselves, let us present the human elements in which this whole affair is so rich. There is that remarkable story, "The wonderful dealings of God with a Salzburg maiden, who, for religion's sake, left father and mother, and was so strangely married on her jour ney." The narrative runs word for word, thus : x This maiden went with her feUow-countrymen without knowing how it would go with her, or whither God would lead her. As she journeyed through Oetingen, the son of a rich citizen of Altmiihl ap proached her, and asked her how she liked the country. Her answer was, "Very weU, sir." He further asked how she would like to enter the service of his father. She answered, " Quite weU, she would be faithful and industrious if aUowed to enter his service." Thereupon she recounted to him what farm-work she understood. She could feed the cattle, mUk the cows, work in the field, make hay, and perform aU simUar work. Now, this young man's father had often advised him to marry, but he had never been able to bring himself to a conclusion about the matter. But when the emigrants passed through, and were able to save themselves. Among the soldiers, however, it re mained pitch dark; they could? not follow the objects of their perse cution any further, and said, 'Either God or the devil is with those people, and we will have nothing more to do with them.' One of the emigrants, who had hidden himself in a bush until the soldiers went back again, reported that this light or star returned to every spot where the exiles had been wounded, and seemed as if it were licking up the blood, continually going around, and finally ascending again toward heaven. Meantime, the exiles had retired to the village and were safe, — The other example is thus related by the Swabian newspapers: 'A brewer had two workmen, a Catholic and a Protestant. These quar reled about the Salzburgers on one occasion, as they were boiling crabs. The former said, if he had the Salzburg heretics in his power, he would boil them in the brew-kettle as red as crabs. Upon this, he got up behind the kettle to remove the cover that the steam might escape ; he fell into the kettle, but was drawn out, as red as a crab, and died.'" 1 J. F. Von Yrem has communicated four different, but, in the main harmonious, reports respecting Goethe's Hermann and Dorothea — Ber lin, 1836. We give the fourth of these, page 46 (according to Go'cking's more complete Emigrationsgeschichte, etc. Leipzig, 1734. 4 Parts. Part I. p. 671). Compare Panse, p. 175. 58 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. and he saw this maiden, she suited him. He went at once to his father and reminded him how often he had advised him to marry, and informed him that he had now selected himself a bride. He begged that his father would aUow him to take her. His father asked him who she was. He rephed, that she was a Salzburg maiden who pleased him well, and if he could not be aUowed to have her, he was resolved never to marry at all. When his father and his friends, together with the preacher, who had been called in, had labored in vain to get the notion out of his head, his wish was at last yielded to, and he brought the maiden, and presented her to his father. The girl knew naught of any thing except the talk of engaging her as a servant, and hence she went with the young man to his father's house. The father, however, supposed that the young man had already opened his heart to the maiden. He therefore asked her how his son suited her, and whether she was wUhng to marry him. Knowing nothing of this, she supposed they were ridiculing her. She began, thereupon, to say that she would not be mocked; she had been sought as a servant, and with that understanding she had followed his son to his house. If they wished her in that capacity she would show herself faithful and industrious, and earn her bread, but she ¦ would not allow herself to be derided. The father, however, stuck to it that he meant what he said, and the son told her his true reason for bringing her to his father's house, namely, that he had an earnest wish to marry her. The maiden looked at him, stood stUl for a Uttle while, and finaUy said, that if he was in earnest, and wished really to have her, she was content, and would regard him as the eye in her head. The son then handed her a marriage-pledge. She, however, reached into her bosom and drew out a purse containing two hundred ducats, saying, she would also present him with a trifle. The betrothment was thus complete. Is there not reason in such circumstances of wonder to cry out, "Lord, how unsearchable are thy judgments, and thy ways past find ing out!" This account, as is well known, furnished Goethe the material schaitberger's hymn. 59 for his Hermann and Dorothea, the scene of which he has laid in the time of the French Revolution. As the conclusion of the lecture of to-day, I give the Exile Songs of Schaitberger1 and Schweiger: SCHAITBERGER'S EXILE HYMN. An exile from my native land, I mournfully record me; For love of God's most Holy Word 'Tis thus that men reward me. But have it as Thou wilt, my Lord, 'Twas thus that Thou wast treated; Thy follower I shall surely be, When with Thy measure meted. A pilgrim now forever more, Strange paths henceforth I ponder; I pray Thee ever go before, And lead me lest I wander. My faith I boldly did profess, Nor e'er for shame did falter, Though branded as a heretic, Or threatened with the halter. I patiently received my chains, My prison was a palace, — Rewards of faith, and not of sin, Applied by hands of malice. In sorrow soon must I depart, The hours e'en now do chide me, Yet. will I hope, as forth I start, God will with friends provide me. 1 Communicated by Panse, at the close of his History. We give its title: Beliable Account of ihe Arrival and Beception of the Salzburg Emi grants by the Evangelical Citizens of Kauffheyem, Augsburg, and other Swabian Cities. Frankfort-on-the-Main, 1732. p. 7. — We have also become acquainted with other Exile Songs; for example, "The Salz burg Emigrant's Magic Wand," in two Songs, composed by a young Exile, Rupert Schweiger by name, born at St. Veith, etc. Augsburg, 1732. Since the first is found in none of the later books on the Salz burgers, we give it here. 60 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. My gracious Lord, do as Thou wilt, No bait my soul shall bribe; To each decision of Thy will I joyfully subscribe. If I go forth in Thy great name, In want and in depression, A heavenly crown, full well I know, Awaits my sure possession. To-day, my God, with streaming eyes I leave my early home, Compelled e'en children to desert, In unknown paths to roam. Lead me, my God, into a place Where Thine own Word is free, And evermore my heart shall raise Thanksgivings unto Thee. If yet awhile I linger here In poverty and grief, A nobler home awaits my soul When death shall bring relief. EXILE SONG BY RUPERT SCHWEIGER. Forth in the name of God I go, To tread the path of pain and woe; God goes with me my strengh to be, Although the darkness compass me. For God's own Word I was in grief, Which still in secret gave relief; My light in care and deep distress, In gloom and dread my sure redress. My God, with joy I own Thy name, Through hate and scorn, through every shame; For Thy disciples still must show Contempt of shame, contempt of woe. My pilgrim-staff I take in hand, With Jacob seek another land; If I am poor and outcast here, I've nobler riches in Thy fear. schweiger's hymn. 61 An exile from my native home, Pursued and chased, I needs must roam; Disciples may not be above The Master whom they serve and love. My pilgrim-staff e'en from the womb, Through all my life down to the tomb, Thou lead'st me through death's valley lone To beauteous mansions round Thy throne. Thou bearest us in Thine own hand Upward toward our Fatherland; Who hath Thee, Lord, no want can know— My soul now rests on naught below. Let earthly good now take its flight If heaven, my home, appear in sight; Who Jesus hath is rich indeed, Although the exile's path he tread. Nor farm, nor gold, nor vain display Goes with us from this world away; Such trifles have no power to bind; The pilgrim leaves them all behind. Farewell, farewell, land of my birth, My back I turn on all thy worth; May God both thee and me defend, Protect my wanderings to the end! LECTURE IV. FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE SALZBURGERS. — HISTORY OF PROTESTANTISM IN THE AUSTRIAN STATES. — JOSEPH H. AND THE EDICT OF TOLERATION. — THE PEOPLE OF THE ZILLERTHAL. — SURVEY OF THE rNTERNAL HISTORY OF PROTESTANTISM. We left the Evangelical Salzburgers pursuing their jour ney; we followed them with sympathizing eyes, and seemed in the distance to hear the exile-hymns whose chant attended their steps. We can not give a minute account of their re ception in particular cities. Among these cities, however, Leipzig especially distinguished itself for its benevolence. Meantime, in the place of many reports, let us hear one which is given in the Geisthche Fama, the organ of the Pietists, or rather of the separatists of that day. The author of this report writes from the standpoint of the party, and regards the movement of the Salzburgers as a wholesome reaction against the dead formalism of the church.1 It is all the more interesting, however, to hear a witness from that source: "During the present week, two hundred and fifty of the Salz burg emigrants have passed through this place.2 They are 1 Geistliche Fama, Vol. VII. p. 58 ff. 2 The report is dated F., meaning Freiburg in the Wetterau, as I have ascertained by comparison. See the 2nd Continuation of the 2nd Part of BeliaUe Account, etc., in which the journey from Frankfort to Giessen is given. Frankfort on the Main, 1732; p. 5. LIFE OF THE SALZBURG EMIGRANTS. 63 mostly young people, from sixteen, eighteen, and twenty years and upward, the greater part of them servants; a simple, honest people, longing for, and seeking after, God from the heart; among whom a true, practical Christianity was to be seen, heard, and felt, although but few of them could either read or write. The desire among them to read, however, is most intense ; they care more for an A-B-C book than most others for a whole hbrary. Simphcity, honesty, and unfeign ed fear of God shine out from their eyes and from aU their conduct. They are very modest, decent, thankful, and uncom monly temperate; eat and drink but Uttle, and take nothing beyond their necessities; they are happy, contented, and quiet. Though only servants among oxen, horses and cattle, they conduct themselves more becomingly than many who set them selves up for morahsts. To their elders, who can read, they are very obedient, and without their permission wUl neither pledge themselves to anything, nor receive, nor spend a single heUer. The greatest general can not boast of so obedient a command, and their elders are aU unconscious of thefr own power, because every thing is done in love. Their clothing is very poor. The men wear short jackets of the coarsest stuff, wide Unen breeches, mostly green or blue stockings, and shoes fastened with strings. The women dress in short coats reaching down no further than the knee; their head-gear consists universaUy of a green bonnet. In stature, they are about of the middle size. Of the old people among them it was observed that, for the most part, they were continually groaning and praying, and that in church they wept copiously though silently. They esteem themselves un worthy of the great ^ kindness they receive, and praise God with uncommon heartiness for his gracious care and mercy. They say that if their countrymen at home knew how well they are faring here, more than half the country, CathoUcs as weU as others, would rise up and follow them. They were told that the men would all be sent to the galleys, and that the women would be drowned. My view of the matter is, that these people are caUed once more to awaken our dead Christianity to practical religion before the Lord shaU bring 64 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. upon it the ruin which the intelUgent among them expect in what they call the year 34, which, with them, passes pro anno revolutorio. God has also made for himself a great name among them by the miracles and dehverances he has wrought. While they wandered about, lost in the wUderness, and for eight days had nothing to eat, God brought them to trees on which they found bread. With one voice they all agree, that, before they left their own country they frequently found sugar growing on the trees. It is quite remarkable that in aU places the Jews contributed great aid to them. I talked with a woman among them who gave such an evidence of knowledge in divine things as astonished me, and who was observed to pay great attention in church. It is a pity that no one has care fully ascertained her history. She was especially inquired of how she felt toward the authorities of her country, and she answered: 'The prince knew very httle of their treatment; they prayed diligently for him and for the whole country. Love your enemies; God wUled it so; and they had done hei people more good than ill.' In short, they are practical theologians. In the houses they sang and prayed earnestly, as all will bear witness, and only talked so far as to answer questions. They warmly expressed their thanks for the favors they received, though some of them were quite indifferent to things of this sort. For the rest, they exhibited a spirit of joy and cheerfulness. In this place they were received with great distinction. The bells were rung, and they were conduct ed into the city by two deputies on horseback, sent by the mag istrates, and accompanied by the whole school, the clergy, and the clerical candidates. They entered, two and two, in perfect order, singing, men and women apart, and were wel comed by an address. Through the city, the people sung Luther's Hymn, 'A strong Tower is our God.' In church, which began at two o'clock in the afternoon, they sung, 'Now is salvation hither come.' The text was: 'Blessed are ye when men shaU persecute you for righteousness' sake.' I al lowed all my family to go to church, but remained at home for meditation, and afterward conversed with them. After the sermon, the congregation sung, 'Uphold us, Lord, by Thine own CONDUCT OF THE EMIGRANTS. 65 word.' After service, a collection was taken for them, amount ing to two hundred florins, besides what each one gave in his own house. The citizens then gathered round their be loved guests, and would not hear of separation, but took them by the hand, led them home, and set before them the very best food. But they seem to have eaten but sparingly, and to have preferred the coarser kind of food, cheese and the like, to roast meat. The whole city was moved and excited as though it had been celebrating a great festival. . . . The next day, in the City Hall, the collection was divided; it amounted to fifty kreutzers for each person; and the women decorated them aU with bouquets. After this, the magistrates in their black robes, accompanied by the clergy, appeared in the street; a circle was formed and protected by guards, in which a place was provided for the emigrants, each sex being kept by itself. This out-door assemblage was opened by singing, '0, with Thy mercy stay,' etc. The chief of the clergy then deUvered, from Acts xx. 32, a sermon appropriate to their departure, and gave them a benediction. They then formed their procession, two and two, and, accompanied by the school, the clergy, and the deputies, they were conducted forth amid the pealing of the bells and the singing of the hymn, ' To Thee alone, Thou Savior, Lord,' etc. At the bridge, another fare well discourse was pronounced by the youngest of the clergy, followed by the hymn, 'Now let all thank God;' whereupon, the emigrants, among themselves, and to a tune of their own, sung, 'I will not leave my God.' Thus they took their leave, under the protection of God, and moved toward B. , where the citizens met them with bread, wine, and beer, and having refreshed them, led them to the church. The love and kind ness of the Lutherans for these poor people was only equaled by the abuse of the Catholics, whose territory they there fore avoided. These denounced them as perjurers, as blas phemers of the Savior; denied that they had any religion at all; said that they were villainous Pietists; and more of the same sort.1 •"Epistle-eaters, (?) they ought to be fed with filth out of the hog- trough." 66 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. "The striking circumstances are too numerous to give in de tail. Among other things, the above-named woman related that shortly before their departure their souls were so melted together and united in love that even where there had been hostilities which appeared impossible to settle, they were all healed and had disappeared, just as if those regions had been inhabited by people who had never known envy, anger, or division. Indeed, if any man had owned a kreutzer guarded by ten locks, he would have brought it out and shared it. No solemn occasion has ever been to me so noteworthy as this. These good people are all on their way to Prussia. Who knows where the miduight-lily will produce? The inteUigent among them believe that for Salzburg, Bavaria, Austria, etc., a fatal period may be at the door. This is clearly the finger of God. At night they come together, and those who can, read to the others out of the New Testament and other religious books, and sing; for all these the people show an ardent desire. Where can our highly-educated theologians for hundreds of miles around exhibit such grace? Here the Holy Spirit has taught and preached. These people have a remark ably just view of their own depravity, and freely confess that they are unprofitable servants, while our theologians are fuU of high pretensions. 0, what a difference between a merely learned and a practically experienced Christianity! These good people seem to have come out from an apostolical school and doctrine." So far this report. In order to give to other Protestants through whose cities they did not pass an opportunity to assist the exiles, a treasury was established at Regensburg, to which offerings were freely made, so that at last the fund reached the sum of about nine hundred thousand guldens.1 As it respects their new homes, Berlin was made the place of general rendezvous, and Prussia the country in which the most of them settled. A very few went to Holland, others to Sweden, and, in the years 1733 and 1734, ninety-nine of their number went to America, where they settled between the Savan nah and Alatamaha rivers, and built the city of Ebenezer, near 1 Strictly, 888,381 Guldens.— Schulze. p. 159. RECEPTION OF THE SALZBURGERS IN BERLIN. 67 the hne between Georgia and South Carolina.1 In Berlin, their reception was very friendly and cheering. The first band reached there on the 30th of AprU, 1732. The king met them at the Leipzig Gate, bade them be of good courage, and gave them a hearty welcome as beloved children of his country. The queen entertained them in the castle-garden of Monbijou, and made them presents of Bibles and money. The other bands came in, one after another, and were joyfully greeted and well provided for, both temporally and spiritually. The Berlin clergy made themselves especiaUy useful to the strangers, for they not only tested their orthodoxy, but in structed them still further in religion, and sought to complete and correct what had been discovered to be defective in their reUgious conceptions. Provost Reinbeck especiaUy directed their attention to the moral dangers to which the fickleness and vanity of the human heart rendered them liable. " Stand nobly firm in what is good," he cried to them. " Do not be come proud because you have left something for the sake of Christ, and because you may have excited the admiration and praise of some. You have now escaped the power of your enemies, and in the country of our king you have no similar persecution to fear ; but do not dream that hereafter you are to have, therefore, only pleasant and quiet days. The precious cross is found everywhere, if not in one form, it wUl be in another. Opportunity will never be wanting to you to exhibit faith, patience, and self-denial. Therefore be not weary, but pray to God daily for new strength from his Holy Spirit, that you may do aU things well and obtain the victory." , Up to this time they had not had ordained preachers, and to meet this want, four Prussian candidates were ordained and sent with them to their place of settlement. Accompanied by these, they started on their journey toward Stettin, and on the 21st of May embarked on the ship which there awaited them. The voyage was not accomphshed without storms; weary and exhausted they arrived at Konigsberg, where they 1 Respecting this settlement, see Samuel Urlsperger, Naehrichten von den Salzburgischen Emigranten. Halle, 1745. Vol. III. p. 4.—Amerikanischea Acker- werh Gottes. Augsburg, 1760. Vol. III. G8 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. were received by the Minister Von Goerne, who was to ac company them to Lithuania, where they found a beautiful, level, fruitful country, rich pastures, plenty of wood, and streams abounding with fish. Here the king built for them houses, schools, and churches; here the men of different mechanical employments found themselves at home, in possession of civU rights and freedom of trade; here the fresh sowing of the farmer found the response of a speedy harvest, rich and abun dant; and if all the immigrants did not mest the expectations respecting them, if among them, as everywhere else, there were indolent and restless spirits who found in misfortune an apology for sloth, and in benefits received an encouragement for further and larger demands, still these were the minority; so that as early as 1730, the Crown Prince (Frederick the Great), in a letter to Voltaire, perhaps a little boastfully, called Lithuania the non plus ultra of the civilized world. The very reverse of this picture of a new creation was presented by the country which the Salzburgers had just been compelled to abandon. Leopold Anton, by the banishment of his best subjects, had now inflicted upon himself the most serious wound. Only with the greatest trouble did he fill the vacant places with Catholics from Bavaria, Swabia and the Tyrol, who settled in the deserted homes of the exiles without developing either their industry or their ingenuity. The thing once started seemed contagious, and there followed in the same year several other emigrations. For example, seven hundred and eighty-eight workmen in the saltworks at Hallein declar ed their acceptance of the Augsburg Confession, and left the country; and in September of' the same year, a thousand persons left the neighboring ecclesiastical jurisdiction of Berch- tesgaden. The zeal of the Archbishop of Salzburg reacted upon the Emperor Charles VI. Here, too, were several emigrations for conscience' sake about the same time. Whole families from several regions of the empfre went to Siebenburgen, and others were forcibly transplanted there. In 1727, a number of the Bohemian Brethren had left Bohemia and found a refuge in Berlin, and a part of Friedrichstadt was given to them to be JOSEPH II. FAVORS THE PROTESTANTS. 69 built up.1 A regular Bohemian Church was soon formed, and the king built for them a house of worship. In the year 1732, eight deputies came from Bohemia to ask the king whether he would be disposed to receive into his country six hundred Protestants. This time he refused, because, as he said, it might result in another "Salzburg affair," and, as the "em peror's best friend," he wished to spare him. These oppressions still continued under Maria Theresa, though mostly against the wish of the empress. She declared pubhcly at Kremsmunster and elsewhere that She wanted no false Catholics or hypocrites for subjects; that whoever had heretofore secretly professed a non-Catholic faith might now profess Protestantism without hindrance. Rejoiced at this declaration, many hundreds made. their profession of Protestantism. But then ecclesiastical per secutions fell upon them, and the empress did not interfere with sufficient decision to protect them. The Provost of Kremsmunster ordered the people to be driven into the churches with blows, and the Bishop of Passau excused his conduct. Missions were formed for the purpose of bringing back into the bosom of the church such as had withdrawn, and these combinations of persons employed for this purpose both lawful and unlawful means. What these means were we know already from the history of the French persecutions, such as house-searching and fines, and even imprisonment and corporeal punishments in aU the various degrees. In some parts of Karnthen, Protestants were forbidden to carry on a trade or to work as journeymen; and farmers were forbidden to employ Protestants as servants, together with much more of the same sort of oppression.2 AU of these abuses were only brought to an end by the government of Joseph H. The Protestants of Hungary, who had been exposed to similar oppressions, had made three several appeals to the Empress as early as 1774, and had obtained partial relief;3 but entire deliverance came only under the government of Joseph H. 1 Forster, Friedrich Wilhelm I. 2nd Part, p. 336. 2 Comp. Schlegel, Kirchengeschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts. Vol. I. 2, p. 818. 8 The collected documents may be found in Gross-Hoffinger's Ger schicfite Joseph's II. Vol. I.— 6 70 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. On the 25th of October, 1781, he published an Imperial Edict, signed at Vienna, which secured perfect toleration to all the hereditary imperial states, and made especial and definite provision for Hungary. This is not the place to enter into its provisions, with their hmitations. The chief point was, that all non-Catholics were guaranteed a quiet celebration of their religious rites, without the ringing of bells; that they need no longer take their children to the priests to be baptized; that all anathematizing from the pulpit must cease; and that no priest must press himself upon a Protestant, but must wait to be invited. Joseph loosened these chains practically by means of the magical word toleration, as Voltaire had done theoretically in France a few years before. Posterity has justly praised him on this account, though it has not been able «to excuse aU that his reformatory zeal labored to effect within the Catholic Church. The more zealous portion of the clergy long resisted the imperial decree. The Archbishop of Gran, :the head of the Hungarian clergy, told the emperor that his -conscience would not allow him to publish it;1 and the Bishop of Stuhlweissenburg called attention to the dangerous conse quences of such an act of toleration. On the other hand, there were bishops, as, for example, those of Laybach and Graz, who entirely agreed with the emperor. Indeed, Hieronymus, Archbishop of Salzburg, made a partial atonement for the injustice his predecessor had done to his Protestant subjects by the publication of a pastoral letter, in which he exhorted his people, in general terms, to genuine Christianity and to a loving disposition. He even recommended the toleration of the Brethren.2 The brother and successor of Joseph, Leo pold II. , pursued a similar course. Restrictions, indeed, still remained, and could not but remain; and even under the mild scepter of Francis IL, efforts were not wanting among the clergy to - neutralize Joseph's Edict of Toleration. In the Tyrol, the Edict of Toleration had received no rec ognition; indeed, since the expulsion of the Salzburgers no Protestant churches had been permitted to be built there. 1 Scbrockh, Kirchengesclvichte seit der Beformalion. Vol. VII. p. 520. B Schlozer, Staatsanzeigen. Vol. II. 5. p. 56. THE ZILLERTHALERS RECEIVED IN SILESIA. 71 There were, however, always individuals who, in one way or another, were affected by Protestant life. We cannot say whether this came from a germ which had quietly remained from the times of persecution, or whether the Tyrolese, so much addicted to trade and travel, had lightened the burdens of commerce by Protestant ideas, and Protestant books had been placed in their hands. It first became known in the nineteenth century that in the Zillerthal, a valley which extends about twenty miles between Salzburg and Innsbruck, there Uved a number of famUies who felt inclined formally to enter the Protestant Church. The history of the Zillerthalers is too fresh in the memory to need an extended repetition. It is well known how the now deceased Emperor Francis, to whom, in the year 1832, they had addressed their petition to be permitted to establish a Uttle parochial church, at first felt inclined to favor their request, but bound by the ancient laws of the Tyrol, — which allowed no other religion but the Catholic, — he gave them directions, in the year 1834, "either to desist from their undertaking or to leave the Tyrol, and Choose for their abode another Austrian province, where non- Catholic churches already existed." The succeeding Emperor, Ferdinand, accepted what his predecessor had done. There now remained to the Zillerthalers nothing but removal, and they preferred malting their settlement in a Protestant coun try rather than an Austrian province, and for reasons easily understood. Remembering kindly what Prussia had formerly clone for the Salzburgers, they sent a messenger, John Fleidl, in May, 1837, to King Frederick WUUam HI., who gave them a home in Silesia. The number of emigrants, as compared with the emigration of 1732, was indeed quite small, scarcely two hundred and fifty persons. And these two emigrations differ from each other in still other respects, however much occasion they may furnish us for comparison. The Zillerthalers knew almost nothing of such oppressions as the Salzburgers endured under the Archbishop, although they suffered many hindrances to, and restrictions of, their religious life, and, like the Salzburgers, they sought to free themselves from these serious grievances. If these hindrances 72 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. and restrictions did not proceed from the civil authorities, as in the case of the Salzburgers, these authorities were at least incompetent to protect them without trenching upon the exist ing rights of another portion of their subjects. And if the public interest in this more recent emigration was sUght, compared with the general stir produced by the early one, stUl many a Protestant heart took a deep, though quiet, interest in the fate of these people; and their reception in. Silesia, and the loving manner in which they were met by rehef associations in then* new home, show that sympathy for such things is not dead.1 But this same sympathy from the general Protestant Church is needed to this day by many of our brethren in France, Austria, Italy, and even in Switzerland. If they are no longer called to endure perse cution in the strict sense of the word, they still have many difficulties to struggle with even in holding divine service, in maintaining schools, and in gathering the scattered souls into a church; and much stiU remains to be done. How we may aid these scattered Protestants in attaining a secure and happy hfe, has become one of the questions of the times, which we cannot here answer, though it well deserves to be maturely weighed both by Protestant governments and by as- 1 Individual cases of bad treatment to Protestants, and especially interferences with the conscience, have not been wanting in Germany in more recent times. To this class belongs the purely royal minis terial order of August the 14th, 1838, requiring the Protestant soldiers of Bavaria to kneel at religious celebrations. (Max. Joseph I., in 1803, had substituted for kneeling the merely military ceremony of present ing arms). In response to Protestant complaints, rescripts followed on the 3rd of October, 1838, and the 6th of December, 1839, which brought modification and relief, but did not satisfy the opposition. The Prot estant members of the House of Deputies addressed themselves, in the year 1840, directly to the King, which resulted in further modifi cations, made on the 28th of March and the 30th of November, 1844, and the 5th of May, 1845. Only toward the end of 1845 was the restoration of the earlier form of salutation conceded. Compare Count von Giech on the Kneeling of the Protestants (Ulm, 1841), and the contro versial writings of Redenbacher, Jacobson, Dollinger, and especially of Harless and Thiersch. A Review of these writings may be found in Brans' Bepertorium, 1845. Vol. HI. pp. 21—51. INTERNAL HISTORY OF PROTESTANTISM. 73 sociations and individuals. And we dare entertain the hope, that, should such aid be demanded of us, we will not allow ourselves to be outdone by other Protestants countries.1 Having treated in very general outline the external history of Protestantism in the eighteenth and partly in the nineteenth century, we propose to pass to its internal history, — to the development of doctrine and life within the Protestant Church in the same period. These two are most closely related, and affect each other reciprocally. In periods when a stern and gloomy faith pre vails, and men are more inclined to force the views of others into conformity with their own, these sharply defined con victions steel the soul to a courage which is ready, for its faith, to accept the martyr's crown. On the other hand, periods celebrated for their gentleness, their humanity, and their toleration, whose bright side consists in freer and clearer views of religion, have also a dark side, which consists in the 'This has been thus far done by the founding of the Gustavus Adol phus Society, and by the establishment of Swiss and Foreign Protestant Church Aid Societies. On the occasion of the Second Centenary of the Battle of Liitzen (celebrated on the 6th of November, 1832), Super intendent Dr. Grossmann, of Leipzig, called attention to the importance of establishing a fund for the benefit of needy and scattered Protestants. The institution was to bear the name of the Gustavus Adolphus Society. Leipzig and Dresden were the chief centers for the gathering and employment of its activity. The Xing of Sweden contributed a con siderable sum. The society became known abroad, though the interest in it was mostly confined to Saxony. On the 31st of October, 1841, Dr. Zimmermann, Court Preacher in Darmstadt, published a "Call to the Protestant World," to unite in "a society for the support of feeble Prot estant churches." This was followed by the meeting in Leipzig (Sep tember the 16th, 1842). Here, with reference to the society already existing in Saxony, the title of "Evangelical Union of the Gustavus Adolphus Societies," was chosen as the collective name of a general association yet to be formed. In a further meeting, held in Frankfort on the Main (21st and 22nd of September, 1843), rules were drawn up; and upon the plan of these, the further principal assemblies were held in Gottingen, Stuttgart, Berlin and Darmstadt. The society, with its motto, "Let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith," embraced within its activity Lutheran, Reform ed and United Churches, all which gave reasonable proof of their 74 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. tendency of this easy faith to degenerate into indifference. We generally defend what we highly esteem, or even over estimate; but no one will raise his arm for what has become dubious, and which we are ready to throw overboard as ballast. The treasures of faith which the spiritual struggles of the Reformation had won for us were worthy, if it had come to the worst, that hfe should be staked for them, that person and fortune should be surrendered for their preser vation. But when the very essence of these treasures of faith began to be brought into doubt, when they came to be re garded merely as burdensome fetters upon inteUectual free dom, as a sluggish, worthless inheritance from the fathers, it was not natural that anybody would any longer make war or mount the scaffold for them, or hardly so much as move a pen in their defence; and whoever dared attempt this latter task had to consent to be decried as a fanatic. Thus, in brief, did the times change. But as we still meet agreement with the general Evangelical Church. It consisted of a parent society, of branches, and of auxiliaries; the central committee had its seat at Leipzig. — For information respecting the labors of the society, compare the "Boten" published by the society; as also the reports of the central committee and the branch societies. — Switzerland has not remained behind. In the year 1840, at the meeting of the Swiss Preachers' Association, the thought was uttered, "that societies ought to be formed in our Reformed Swiss fatherland, whose mission it should be to support our needy companions in the faith in their ecclesiastical relation." Zimmermann's appeal awakened the slumbering powers, and, after the example of Basle (1842), Protestant Church Aid Societies were formed in Berne, Zurich, Schaffhausen, St. Gall, Geneva, and Neuenburg, to which, by degrees, all the Reformed cantons were added. At a Con ference which took place in Aarau (the 16th of August, 1843), these several societies drew more cksely together, and Basle became their chief seat. Although these Swiss societies are not in organic connection with the German Gustavus Aiolphus Society, they are still in vital intercourse with it, and send representatives to its chief meetings. In France, similar associations exist at Strasburg and Nismes, which again stand in relations of friendly intercourse with those of Germany and Switzerland.— Even Holland and Sweden have lately united in the movement. — [For an exhibit of the present state of the Gustavus Adol phus Society, and of similar evangelizing associations on the Continent and elsewhere, see the Evangelische Kirchen-Chronih for 1868.— J.F.H.] THE OLD AND THE NEW IN CONFLICT. 75 with religious wars and persecutions at the beginning and down to the middle of the eighteenth century in the outer sphere, so also in the same period do we find the old strug gles of faith proceeding mechanically in the inner sphere. For one period of time is never perfectly separated from another, but the old ever goes forward into the new, until the new entirely overcomes it, when it dies out, only, perhaps later, when no one dreams of it, but in another form and under another name to take its' place in the circle again. And thus we find in the beginning of the eighteenth century the orthodoxy of the seventeenth, — as it was cherished by the Lutherans on the one side, and by the Reformed on the other (the one against the other), — still existing according to its outward form. We behold Pietism and germinating philosophy confronting both of these, and at the same time hostile to them and to each other. It was not long before these different powers were brought into conflict, and other elements were added from within and without, so that a revolution of ideas was effected such as the history of the church had not known since the age of the Reformation. In order to comprehend and rightly estimate this struggle, let us obtain as clear a view as possible of the different inteUectual tendencies involved, as they were especially pro moted by individual men. On the border line between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, as already remarked, we find the old, which is in ,the act of dying, and the new, which is in its early bloom. To the old and decaying we must reckon that stiff, stubborn, and literal orthodoxy, into which, in the seventeenth century, the living fountain of the doctrines of the Reformation petri fied. This theology had fulfilled its mission; Jt had inured the thinking spirit to hard work; it had contributed not a little to the sharpening of its conceptions and their method ical management, — and this must be admitted by unpreju diced learning at the present day. But it could not give satisfaction to the inteUect, least of all when it degenerated into quarrels and anathemas. In opposition to this tendency in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there arose, first, 76 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the profound but gloomy theology of the Mystics,— of Jacob Boehme and of Weigel; then that of Arndt and Scriver, which was directed more to practical Christianity; and, fin ally, that of the so-called Pietists, who adopted a simple form of teaching, directed to the practical necessities of the heart and hfe. The leaders of this movement were Spener and Francke, of whom we have already treated in a former series of lectures.1 These tendencies, — the Mystical and the Pietistical, — con stituted a youthful power, which stood opposed to the old orthodoxy at the beginning of the eighteenth century. And at every act of persecution which they were at first called to endure, they only increased more rapidly, and sometimes then* growth was healthy, but at others morbid. We will therefore now become acquainted with the Pietism of the eighteenth century, — for we have previously examined its rise, — in its further development, in its different forms, and, indeed, in its partial degeneracy. It became the supporter of true Christian life, and the positive power which held its po sition in the thickest of the battle, and which has maintained its right, or at least its position in the struggle, down to the present day, though amid a greatly changed state of things. It was not, however, the Pietistic tendency alone, as it came forth from Halle and spread through a great part of Germany and Switzerland, which conquered the old, strong- orthodoxy. Other enemies came against it from other sources. If the power of feeling had decidedly expressed itself in Pietism in opposition to want of feeling, to hardness, so also did the understanding contradict those who claimed under standing in the highest sense of the word; for the Uability to fall into self-conflict in the sphere of religion Ues in the very nature of the mere understanding, when it is not supported by feehng; and in the very workshops where deci sive proofs are sharpened, will the doubts ¦ be pointed and edged which may be used against these proofs. This right of free examination, which Protestantism once gave to its adherents, Bible in hand, and arrayed against the dogmas of 1 See my Vorlesungen, Part 4. p. 179 ff. (2nd Ed.) REASON QUESTIONING CHRISTIANITY. 77 the Catholic Church, was now turned against the doctrines of the Protestant Church itself, — at first, perhaps, from Biblical grounds, but afterwards from the general ground of reason against the Bible. In former centuries there had arisen by the side of the Mystical sects, persons who had coolly and calmly labored with the understanding to solve the mysteries of the faith to which the orthodox Protestaut Church had so long been firmly attached. These were the Arminians and the Socin- ians, who now found many followers, some boldly avow ing their opinions, others holding them secretly. Their books were read for the purpose of proving and answering them, but they frequently left in the soul a thorn, which stirred up doubt to still further doubt; and thus the orthodox, here and there, aUowed the sternness of their doctrine some what to abate. A moderate school of theologians was grad ually formed, which, without departing in any great degree from the doctrinal standards, yet held intercourse with the enemy, or at least ignored him. Nor did matters stop here. The prying understanding threw itself not only on the indi vidual mysteries, such as the trinity and election, but the whole of Christianity, its historical as well as its doctrinal contents, was gradually brought into doubt. Questions were propounded on the very origin of Christianity; on the credi bility, possibility, reality and necessity of a divine revelation; on the truth and trustworthiness of the accounts of the Evangelists; and on the truth of miracles and prophecy. These bold questions were broached by the English Deists as early as the seventeenth 'century ; they were followed up in the eighteenth, not merely in England, but especially in France; and this deistical or naturalistic tendency found its friends and defenders even in Germany. Voltaire and Fred erick the Great are the representatives of this period. This frivolous spirit of French illuminism, meanwhile, only stirred the surface of the German nature; it stroked, as it were, the skin while the deeper revolution of ideas was provided elsewhere, even from the heart of the German people themselves. The German people are earnest and 78 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. meditative. They have often been reproached as unpractical and ideal; nor can the charge be denied in matters merely practical, for in this sphere they sometimes appear awkward and clumsy in comparison with their livelier neighbors, the French. But in the world of the intellect, of science, of faith, and of profound thought, of all modern . nations the crown of merit unquestionably belongs to them, — so far at least as we can discuss the question of human merit at all. For the highly-boasted English understanding is political, mathematical, and industrial, rather than a metaphysical one, which is directed to the invisible world. Indeed, the German nation was still clumsy, and Only too dependent on foreign influence when Leibnitz and Wolf began to construct their philosophy from the raw material, as an artist chisels his divine forms from the hard marble. Thor oughly penetrated with the love of truth and with moral earnestness, this philosophy did not attempt to replace the revered edifice of the Church by a light and airy house of pasteboard, or to palliate a godless and frivolous life with specious philosophical arguments. This the materialistic French, or at least some of them, understood only too well, and were too readily followed by a youthful school among the Germans. Wolf and Leibnitz, on the contrary, intended by their philosophy nothing more than the laying of secure foundations for religion and morality. True, they trusted in the strength of human reason; they held that the Creator had given man this faculty for the very purpose of enabling him to pass securely from the sensuous to the supersensuous, and to furnish impregnable proofs for both his faith and conduct. In recommending reason and the use of reason in religious matters, these philosophers had no thought of injuring revela tion. They were so far from it that they were fully per suaded that the so-called natural religion, — which they ex pected to attain by the efforts of reason, and which related more to the belief in God and in immortality than to anything else, — would become the very best stepping-stone into the temple of revealed religion. Indeed, the theologians hoped PIETISM OPPOSED TO THE DEMONSTRATIVE PHILOSOPHY. 79 to prove, by the mathematical, demonstrative method, the truth of the doctrines of revelation and the falsity of infidelity. Leibnitz himself undertook to estabUsh philosophically the Lutheran doctrines of the Lord's Supper and the Trinity. It was obvious to many, however, and they were not among the least noble, that this effort to draw religion into the circle of mathematical proof was likely to do it as much harm as good. The setting up of a natural religion which had only an outward connection with the revealed, and which claimed a certain independence of its own, seemed to them suspicious. What should become of Christianity if faith in God and im mortality, and the motives to a virtuous life, could exist without it? Would not many be content with this natural religion, — of which even the Deist spoke well, — and in the end, would not revelation come to be regarded simply as a venerable ruin, even if they did not go so far as to withhold some reverence? Hence came the opposition of all who held to strict, living, Biblical Christianity, and who reposed upon inner experience ; and . hence the Pietists were as earnestly hostile to this demonstrative method as they had been pre viously to the stiff, cold orthodoxy. Their position in the strife was henceforth an altered one. They had formerly appeared in opposition to the old orthodoxy as innovators, as IUuminati, and as the enemies of the old traditional faith of the church. Now standing in array against philosophy, they appeared as orthodox as the enemies of the new illumiuism, and as the conservatives who felt themselves called on to protect the ancient faith, — if not of the school, at least of the Church and the Bible, — against the pride of phil osophy and the spreading philosophical skepticism. These well-meant efforts of Pietism frequently felt the absence of the sure tact of Spener; and even the estimable Francke fell into misconceptions. Pietism allowed itself to be misled into false zeal. It succumbed to the advancing spirit of the times, and withdrew, shy of the world, into narrow, pious circles, and poured out its disconlent in bitter and unjust murmurs. The mere philosophy of the period, and the harsh mathe matical, demonstrative method, were not of themselves suf- 80 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ficient to give things this new form; they were aided by other phenomena in the sphere of science, and the general sphere of life. That sharp form of thought which bends itself to mathematical formulas is not for every man, least of all for the great mass. These require something more direbt and intuitional; they demand results in a small compass, obvious arguments. Especially do they lend a willing ear to that which is commended, as the phrase is, by sound understand ing, which makes light demands and promises large enjoy ment. They love, in general, what is cheap. Thus there gradually came into vogue, partly borrowed from the Wolfian philosophy and partly from the English Deists, a so-called system of popular philosophy, a theory of practical utility and happiness, which, without making it needful to bother one's self with useless speculations respecting the mysteries of faith, promised a well-deserved reward on earth and even in heaven, to virtue, which it made to consist in an honorable hfe, and especially in industry and order in temporal things. Many of the .clergy, even, yielded to this tendency. They confined their discourses in the church to the moral duties of the citizen and the peasant; they battled with superstition, and recommended even from the sacred desk the useful in ventions which come into the service of common life. In the meantime, many changes had taken place in theo logical science, which, in a good degree, furnished grounds for rejoicing. The scientific study of the Scriptures had made considerable progress. By means of learned travel, a pro- founder knowledge had been attained of the languages, the customs, and the modes of thought of the East. Many things which presented an odd . appearance by the side of our occi dental notions, and which were regarded as mysteries only because they were misunderstood, were now seen in the light of the age in which they arose. There was also developed a clearer knowledge of those parts of the Bible which were to be figuratively understood, and of what was the meaning of the figure. What was qualified by time and place was separated from that which had eternal value and impor tance. In theso things, men were not always careful nor RISE OF NEOLOGY. 81 even always honest in their work. Under the broad title of oriental usages and antique figures of speech, much was thrown overboard that pertained to the peculiar essence of Christianity, and which distinguishes it from other religions; and while it was intended only to separate the husk from the grain, a considerable part of the grain itself was scraped off, so that when the kernel came to be sought, it was found to have disappeared under the hands of the scraper. Thus there gradually arose that shallow theology, destitute of ideas and hmited to a few moral commonplaces, which received the name of neology. If, however, we would be correct in our judgment of this phenomenon, we must not group all the neological labors of this period into a single class. In one case, mere levity, which seeks to avoid deep thought and inward conflict, and reaches out only after what is cheapest, may have had an important share in the struggle; in other cases, however, there was evidently an honest in tention of coming to the relief of Christianity now lying in dis repute, and to commend it again to regard by removing from it the vail of antiquity at which so many had stumbled, and by arraying it in ornaments appropriate to the times. Many accommodated themselves all the more to the prejudices of the day in order to save to the age the little which was not yet gone, but seemed about to go with the rest. They gave up the outworks that they might save the fortress, which was dear to their hearts, and which they could not have been induced tovsell at any price. Nor dare we forget that in this process of disintegration which occurred in the last decades of the eighteenth century, many things were justly eliminated which had given to Chris tianity an offensive taste, without being of the least service to it; that much old leaven was purged out which we ought not to wish back; that many improvements were suggested; and that the intellect was aroused from indolent slumbers, and a period of culture prepared for, over which we and our children may well rejoice. Indeed, whoever looks a httle deeper will see that even here everything was not done by man, but that the hand of God was also in the work. The 82 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. occurrences in the rehgious and theological world do not, moreover, stand alone. The German national life after the Seven Years' War became, in general, a very different thing, being henceforth characterized by intellectual activity. Ger man literature and poetry took a higher flight; even here there was a struggle between the old and new, and each encroached upon the other. Think for a moment of Lessing, who hurled his gleaming and annihilating thunderbolts from the regions of both theology and aesthetic literature. Even in education the old path was deserted; and what Rousseau had started in the French language was carried forward by the German Philanthropists, Basedow, Salzmann, and Campe. But this did not take place without much opposition from the old-school men, who had grown hoary in the service of the church, and not without much misconception also, but yet with those better results which were the fruit of the struggle. It was, consequently, altogether an idle thing for the gov ernment to attempt by means of force to set bounds to this spirit of innovation. The Religious Edict of Prussia (of 1788) failed, therefore, of its object. The counterpoise was com pelled to come from within, and it did do so in manifold ways. The old orthodoxy had, indeed, turned the edge of its sword in its conflict with Pietism ; and even the latter needed new awakening and quickening elements to prevent it from sinking into mere passivity, or even from pining away in sullen discontent. The more the church had fallen into decay and the less power she had to raise herself to new life, the more did the positive spirit of Christianity, as opposed to this critical and destructive tendency, show itself in indi viduals, in large associations, and in corporations. In one, it acted more in the form of philosophical thought and learn ed reflection; in another, more in the way of practical piety; and in one it was more, and in another less, perverted by personal peculiarities and by the tempers and inclinations of individual hfe. Many of the deepest thinkers of the century did not hesitate to enter the lists of a strictly Biblical Chris tianity, even at the risk of being cried down by the priests THE MORAVIANS AND THE METHODISTS. 83 of illuminism. Others placed themselves at the head of unions, or smaller societies, or sects; or they formed a small circle of believers within a larger,— a httle church within a great one. We are here reminded especially of two societies, which exercised an important influence upon the religious Ufe of the whole of the eighteenth century as well as upon that of our own, — the Moravian Brethren, founded by Zinzendorf, and the English Methodists, with Wesley at their head. Other distinguished persons, as Bengel, Swedenborg, Oetinger, and later, Lavater and Stilling, form so many centers of beUeving adherents, who, as is usually the case, seized more eagerly the errors of their leaders than the good and noble points of their character; and thus, against the will of the leaders, promoted the spirit of sectarianism, while they nevertheless formed a counterpoise to the dullness and shallowness of the vulgar Uluminism. It has already been observed in another connection, that the revolution in the modern German litera ture, first by Wieland, Klopstock and Lessing, and then by Herder, Schiller and Goethe, formed a remarkable parallel to the pohtical revolution in France; that here the same disturbances were experienced in intellectual life as occurred there in the political world. This period of revolution, in which the rise of the Kantian philosophy is especially em braced, is foreign to my present undertaking. In my suc ceeding lectures I would be glad to produce the conviction, that an interest in Christianity did not perish amidst all the violent struggles respecting its existence, and that the deeper foundations of Protestantism were not even shaken. LECTURE V. LTFE AND CUSTOMS IN GERMANY IN THE FORMER HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. — FREDERICK WILLIAM I. OF PRUSSIA. "To classify history according to centuries has its incon veniences. No one can perfectly see the line of demarcation between events; the human life and conduct proceeding from one century encroach upon another. All grounds of classifi cation, however, when narrowly regarded, are seen to pro ceed from a single preponderating one. Certain forces are exhibited distinctly in a given century, without the pos sibility of our mistaking their source or denying their results." We are reminded of this remark of Goethe as we look around for an appropriate point to which to attach the in terior history of Protestantism.1 We stand on the border, looking back into the seventeenth century, and forward into the eighteenth, without/a landmark to tell us precisely where the boundary lies. The mere counting of the years does not discriminate, and the clock-stroke of a new century, while it may ring in the imagination, is still not the magie peal which banishes the old spirits and calls forth the new. It is the spirits themselves that press in at the true spirit- hour, and at first as ghosts, perhaps, terrify the race of the living until they have proved themselves the heralds of a world of a higher order. Some see these spirits earlier than others, and while some are stirring among the corpses in 1 Farbenlehre. Vol. II. p. 169. THE FRENCH TASTE IN GERMANY. 85 the graveyard of history, looking for the living among the dead, others have heard the cock-crow, and the keen morning air invites them to bathe their breast in its currents. The period of transition from the seventeenth to the eighteenth century was not, for Germany at least, a happy one. No where does one feel at home. We are still partly held by the stark forms of Louis XIV., and still we are half dreaming of a new age. Great personages such as Leibnitz, Newton, Spener and Thomasius stand like the Rhodian Co lossus, with one foot on each shore, while the pigmy race sails beneath with unsteady flags, driven hither and thither by uncertain winds. If we now direct our attention to Germany, a country with which we are here chiefly concerned, we shall no longer find the old substantial German life of the time of the Refor mation, or even of the seventeenth century. French fashions and morals had crept into the German courts even in the time of Louis XIV., and thence into the houses of citizens; and even the taste in intellectual matters had passed under the control of this tendency. Only think for a moment of the bombastic, antiquated style of the poets who were then read, such as Hofmannswaldau, Lohenstein, Besser, etc. It wUl be better, however, to allow a stern judge of the morals of that period to express himself on the subject, in his own words: "E we look at the present state of Germany, we shall discover a great change. Alas, it is only too well known, that since the French devU has reigned among us Germans we are so changed in life, morals and usages, that although we would not be willing to become and to be called natural ized Frenchmen, yet we properly deserve the name of a new people, who have undergone a most remarkable French transformation. Formerly, the French were not esteemed by the Germans, but now we are unable to live without them; everything must be French,— French language, French cloth ing, French cookery, French furniture, French dances, French music. . . .* The wretched French spirit, by means of fond ling acts and flattering speeches, has lulled us to slumber 1 "French diseases" are added also. Vol. I.— 7 iio HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. as the serpent did our first parents in Paradise, in order to rob us by degrees of our noble German freedom. Most of the German courts are managed after the French fashion, and whoever wishes to find favor in them now-a-days must know French, and must especially have been in Paris,— a sort of university of all levity, — otherwise he must not make his reckoning upon the court. . . . From the court it has descended to private persons, and even to the common people. When the children first learn to talk, and are about fou" or five years old, they are at once offered up to the French Moloch, . . . and the parents begin to think of the French dancing-masters and teachers of the French language. In France, no one speaks German, except perhaps a few Ger mans among themselves; but among Germans, the French has become so common in many places that it is spoken by shoemakers, tailors, children, and servants. If a young man now-a-days wishes to pay his addresses to a young lady, he must put on his little French hat, vest, and gay stock ings, . . and although he may not have erudition enough in his pate for a bat, he is Monsieur, and so remains,- — provided he can only parles-vous a little." * It will be said, perhaps, that these are non-essential things. Language, dress, and outward customs have nothing in com mon with rehgion; but it may appear strange that we should have thought of them in this place and in this connection. But these matters are not so indifferent as they might appear at the first blush. Whoever offers up his nationality from mere desire of imitation, from vanity or from weakness, is in danger of sacrificing his faith and his religion. We may serve God as well in the French as in the German language ; the more languages we can do this in the better. Luther wished it might be done in all languages; but this is not the question here,— we speak only of the spirit in which the thing is clone. Where the mind has become fickle, the depth- of spirit is wanting which is necessary for receiving and im proving religious impressions with genuine earnestness. The 1 In Forster, Friedrich Wilhelm I. Vol. I. p. 41. (From an anonymous work). THE APPROACHING REVOLUTION. 87 dress does not, indeed, make the man; and yet we may safely assert that the clothing possesses a measure of this efficacy which the body, — the clothing of the soul, — exerts upon the soul in a higher degree. The fashions are the sensible expression, the physiognomy of an age and of a people; and where it is not so, when language, dress, and outward customs stand in contradiction to the character, we see at least a discord which is sometimes pitiable and sometimes laughable. We meet with this discord chiefly at the beginning of the eighteenth century. In many hearts we still find the old German ecclesiastical faith as it was taught in the catechism of the olden times; we still find the venerable, true-hearted morahty; but German faith and morality find no longer their appropriate expression. It is everywhere evident that the old has departed, and something new is arising; another spirit is approaching, but it does not yet understand itself. There is a battle between the old and the new, but the combatants conduct themselves with Uttle skill. Instead of accepting whatever of good the new times offer, they grasp at the shadow, the empty appearance; and instead of cleaving to the true and the tested, they seize the unfamihar form by the wrong handle, and contend for it as for life, while the pre cious treasure slips from their hands without their knowledge. This, indeed, has been the fact in all periods, but this hybrid state occurs frequently when a great revolution in either public affairs or ideas is approaching. And this was the case as one century ended and the other began. And now, as our object is to obtain a view of this period of transition, we wiU not content ourselves with general representations, but will at once place in the foreground a strong and sharply defined character, who exerted a powerful influence upon the ecclesiastical movements of the period; — the picture of a man, yea, of a king, who strangely united in himself both the virtues and the faults of the old period, but who was obUged, against his will, to prepare the way for the new period, if only by the opposition which he called forth. I refer to Frederick William I., King of Prussia. I prefer 88 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. to commence with him my examination of the inner historical development of Protestantism, because we shall soon after wards see represented in his son, Frederick the Great, the new period of illuminism, just as we have before seen the bright side of the seventeenth century in the great Elector and his wife, Louisa Henrietta. The Elector had left to his son, Frederick HI., a land exhausted by war. This pompous prince, in imitation of French customs of the time of Louis XIV., placed the crown upon his head with his own hands, hoping thereby to increase his own personal dignity and to make his reign more glorious. Thus there commenced, in January, 1701, under the title of Frederick, the Une of Prussian kings. His wife, Sophia Char lotte, Princess of Brunswick and Hanover, was among the most celebrated women of her times. With a French edu cation, to which she had been devoted from early youth, she added a capacity for German profundity, which had been fostered by association with Leibnitz. She engaged in theo logical disputes with free-thinkers and Jesuits, and met them with inteUectual skill.1 Frederick William I., the son of these parents, was born on the 14th of August, 1688 (New Style), at Cologne on the Spree. After his preliminary education had been conducted by Madame Montbeil, a Protestant emi grant, uhder whose direction the child had shown traces of an independent mind, he was transferred to the stricter gov ernment of Count Dohna. Among the instructions given to the count in the year 1695, we find the following: "The true fear of God must be fixed in the young heart very early, that it may take root and bring forth fruit through the whole life, even in that part of it which wiU be subject to no direction or control. The prince must especiaUy be so pene trated by a sense of the majesty and omnipotence of God, that a sacred fear of, and veneration for, God and his law may ever dwell in his soul; for this is the only means by which sovereign power, freed as it is from human laws and punishments, can be. held within just and proper Umits; and as other people are drawn away from evU and attracted to 1 Forster, Vol. I, p. 60. YOUTH OF FREDERICK WILLIAM I. 89 good by rewards and punishments from the highest earthly authority, so their rulers, who acknowledge no human re wards and punishments, must be influenced to good by the fear of God alone. And this wUl be the result when they are thoroughly persuaded of the majesty and justice of God," etc. Then the foUowing directions were laid down: 1. "The prince, and aU his attendants, shall kneel and say their prayers, morning and evening; 2. After prayers, he shall read a chapter from the Bible, and not merely that, but after the reading, the principal contents shall be briefly repeated, and if beautiful sentences are therein contained, suited to the understanding of the prince, they shall be extracted, that he may commit them to memory, so that they may be retained, along with useful psalms and expressive prayers; 3. The prince shaU be instructed,- by diligent catechization, in the articles of faith, principles, and chief contents of the genuine Christian and Reformed rehgion; 4. He shall be regularly taken to church to hear sermons, some portions of which he shall be directed to remember; 5. No one shall be per mitted to approach the prince who might mislead him into cursing, swearing, or any filthy or blasphemous language, . . . and if the prince should ever curse, or swear, or use unbe coming language of any sort, the lord steward shall earnestly admonish him against it, and if he does not cease from it, the matter must be brought to me; Finally, he must be restrained as much as possible from wordly vanities, and inspired with a distaste for them. And since veneration and obedience are due from chUdren to parents, and are also a part of piety, the lord steward must impress upon the mind of the prince how much of respect and submission he owes to me in all things, especially in those which I direct and command." The prince's mother herself undertook a part of his edu cation. She read with him daily, for an hour or two, Fene- lons Telemachus, and connected with it discreet lessons and conversations. She had, however, a single fault, — she was too slack and indulgent. With this the prince reproached 90 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. her in later life, saying that she was a sensible woman but a bad Christian. As he grew up toward manhood, the prince, in contrast with his father's French love of show, became remarkable for his great simpUcity and for his truly German nature. He evinced a decided preference for the miUtary profession, and valued men of huge frames above all others. He was married soon after his mother's death, which took place in 1705, to Sophia Dorothea, Princess of Hanover. The marriage occurred in 1706, when he was in his eighteenth year. After his expedition to the Netherlands, under Marl borough and Prince Eugene, and his participation in the renowned Battle of Malplaquet, he returned to Berlin, in order to assume the government, which he did in 1713. Frederick the Great, the destined heir to his throne, was born the year before. Frederick William I. had reached his twenty-fifth year when he ascended the paternal throne. We do not intend to tell the story of his reign, but merely to sketch the character of the man, and select from his life a few things which characterized him as a German Prot estant prince of that period, and as a person in whom the tendencies of the opening century mirrored themselves in a most significant manner. As already remarked, the king loved the greatest simplic ity. He forbade the French fashions or gave them over to his court-fools, that they might become contemptible and ridiculous. But he declared war not only against the external fashions of the French, but everything connected with them; against all that wanton French tendency and levity which were concealed behind the mask of gallantry and wit bor rowed from Louis XIV. He himself preserved, according to the strictest German and Christian custom, the faith of wedlock and household disciphne, and severely punished the opposite in others. His married hfe, to the shame of the corrupt courts of the day, served as a model, and it is said that his life at court never once bore the appearance of Ucentiousness. Upon one ocoasion, when the queen stretched an evening entertainment at Monbijou too far into the night, this strict head of the family, wrapped in his mantle, betook himself, LIFE OF FREDERICK WILLIAM I. 91 in the far-spent night, to the house of Provost Reinbeck, where he rang the beU, and gave the servant a note to the provost, directing him to admonish the queen against such unseemly conduct. He blotted the superfluous expenses of the court from the royal statement with one stroke of his pen, and paid his father's debts from the sale of the orna ments. He established for himself a regular daily routine, from which he did not lightly depart; and that routine is an excellent mirror of his nature. As he had -been required in his early life, so now, he began the day's work with rehgious exercises. He read a prayer from the Daily Devotions of Valerius Kreuzberg, after which he received the members of his Cabinet, who presented written reports. Upon the mar gins of these reports he always wrote his decisions with his own hand, which were often very laconic. At ten o'clock came parade, and then inspection of the royal stables. At both places petitions were received, more or less graciously; according to the king's humor; for, with all his achievements in piety, he had never succeeded in mastering his temper. At eleven o'clock he received the Privy Council; at twelve o'clock came dinner, which was a far simpler thing than it had been in the time of the old king. Yet Frederick Wil liam did not despise Rhine wine, and called such as did not freely join in drinking it, Pietists. He was fond of cheer ful table-talk, but here, as elsewhere, everything unbecomr ing was banished; "for," as a contemporary states, "as. her majesty the queen was the declared enemy of all coarse wit and buffoonery, so also his majesty the king. was wholly unwilling that any thing should transpire in the presence of the illustrious mother and her royal chil dren, which could give offence, or shock the ear in the least degree." When dinner was over, the king's custom was to ride out; or if he was spending his time at Potsdam or Wusterhausen, he sometimes walked. On these walks he frequently detained those whom he met, and questioned them, and woe to those who were overtaken in laziness or bad conduct; the king made them feel his cane, laid on with his own hand, or sent them 92 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. to the house of correction at Spandau.1 But woe to those also of whose oppressions a poor man justly complained to him. Neither investigation nor punishment was allowed to fail. The king required every one with whom he talked to look him dhectly in the eye, for he fancied he could read something in every eye. Naturally enough, most peo ple, especiaUy women and children, preferred to escape these encounters; but this only made the king the more indignant ; such as fled were pursued, and were compeUed to stop.2 At seven o'clock in summer, and at five in winter, the king held his evening entertainment, which has become fa mous under the title of "Tobacco College." This "College," which held its sittings as well in Berlin as in Potsdam and Wusterhausen, consisted daily of an assembly of six or eight 'persons about the king. They were mostly generals and' staff-officers; but distinguished strangers were also admitted. To each of the guests a Dutch pipe was presented, and any one who could not smoke was compelled to keep his pipe in his mouth. A white jug of beer and a glass were placed before each guest, to which, at seven o'clock, bread and butter were added. Only very seldom was a more costly entertainment furnished. In this "College" the news of the day was discussed, and the few newspapers of the period reviewed; or some played chess. Cards were not allowed. The king gave himself up to a cheerful mood, which, however, from his irritability, often yielded to one directly opposite, and produced offensive results. The kirn's most indispensable companions were the court- fools, or as he called them, his court-scholars and jolly coun selors. Among these, the celebrated Gundling was especially 1 Schlosser, Geschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts. Vol. I. p. 238. Many anecdotes are related concerning these meetings. One of them t.uugh very trivial, is well suited to afford us a glimpse of the king's curious character. A poor Jew had hidden himself from him, but the •king had him caught, and proceeded to question him. The Jew con fessed that he had been moved to flight by fear; the king, with a good solid caning, enforced on him this lesson: henceforth, not to fear, but to love. FREDERICK WH.LIAM I. OPPOSED TO SCIENCE. 93 distinguished; a man of much historical knowledge, deeply versed in history, and distinguished as an author, but who had sunk so far below tife dignity of a scholar that he had hired himself to a tavern-keeper as a jester, to induce the guests to drink beer. It was there that General Grumkow found him and commended him to the king, who soon became fond of him, and forgave him many of his worst jokes, while the company, in their turn, poked their fun at him, and the king made him the target of his humor. The king elevated Gundling to a baronetcy, and addressed him by the title of "Excellency;" he even made him lord chamberlain, and, the more thoroughly to ex press his contempt for the learned, he raised him to the Presidency of the Academy of Sciences, a place which had formerly been filled by the great Leibnitz. He especially deUghted to bring him into controversy with other learned men, particularly with Fassmann, the king's biographer, that he might enjoy himself right royally in witnessing a fisticuff between the two scholars, which frequently took place in the presence of the whole company. This example is sufficient of itself to exhibit Frederick WUliam's earnest hostility to the arts and sciences. He despised them as useless luxuries; he was acquainted, however, only with the dead science, with the Uteral learning and pedantry of the scholars of his own day. Of true science he knew nothing, and therefore could not be expected to value it. His own writing violated all the rules of grammar and orthography. In his view, a scholar was a fool who practiced breadless arts; and he placed him in a line with mountebanks, jugglers, and rope-dancers, whom he hated as a worthless set, and would fain have driven out of the countiy. Practical himself, he demanded men of a sound understanding and of quick judgment. He attached no importance to philosophers and poets. Schelhng, Tieck, and Riickert would have had from him only a severe letting-alone. He had an especial hatred of Latin and of the ancient languages in general, as also of ancient history. He regarded all of these as trash, and when, on one occasion, he found the tutor of Frederick the Great employed in explaining \ 94 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the " Golden Calf" to his pupil in Latin, he taught him better under a brandished cane.1 On the other hand, he attached the greatest possible im portance to piety and Christianity. How this comports with the rudeness of his disposition and the passionateness of his nature, is indeed a psychological riddle whose solution must be sought in the period in which he lived, in the impressions received in his youth, and in his highly original and peculiar constitution. We should certainly be guilty of forming a hasty judgment should we assert that, connected with Fred erick William's barbarian mode of thinking and acting, there was nothing better than a dead, heartless, or hypocritical piety. It certainly was not dead and heartless. Think for a moment of his treatment of the Salzburgers, and of what he did for Protestants generally. If a complaint came from the Palatinate, from Poland, from Austria, or from any source, he never failed to render assistance to Protestantism, and that, too, in a' spirit which could only betoken a vital rehg ious interest. Think, too, of the benevolent royal foundations, the Charite at Berlin, and the Orphan House at Potsdam, both of which owe their existence to him. Many of his expressions also present him to view as a man penetrated by the truths of Christianity, and yet his religion impresses us with the idea of having in it more of the Law than the Gospel, and as more the result of fear than love, although love itseU did here and there break forth through the heavy mists of prejudice. Indeed, the plan of his education had distinctly declared the fear of God to be the restraint of kings, that they might not break over all bounds. But even this fear of God, lacking as it did the higher law of freedom and of self-control, was extremely imperfect and precarious, so that the view of a strictly orthodox religion was not al ways, strong enough to hold the king back from arbitrary conduct. One example may suffice.2 Preacher Freyling- hausen, son-in-law to the distinguished A. H. Francke, was on one occasion invited to the royal table at the king's hunt- 1 "Stop, you scamp! I'll \>e-auream bullannen you!" 2 Forster. Vol. I. p. 339. FREDERICK WH.LIAM I. ON HIS DEATH-BED. 95 ing-seat at Wusterhausen. He considered it his duty, at the table, to stir up the king's conscience in reference to stag-hunting. He said : " The stag-hunt is a sin, therefore an unallowable pleasure, because a creature that might be quickly caught or killed is horribly and inhumanly tormented and tortured to death; but the sigh of the brute ascends to God, and the hunter must answer to God for the unbecoming infliction of unnecessary pain." The king listened to this homily, and appeared to be moved, but hunted on the next day undisturbed. But not to stop at hunting beasts, how do the cruelty with which he tore away men of large stature to place them among his grenadiers; the coldness with which he confirmed and even aggravated the sentence of death, especially against deserters ; his most unfatherly treatment of his son Frederick, and his cruel trial of Lieutenant Katte, which we shall ex amine in another place, correspond with that fear of God which he himself lays down as the foundation of all royal virtues? In Frederick WUUam I., if ever, were confirmed the" words of the Apostle concerning the double law in our na ture, the strife between the inward man and the law in our members, — but he did not, as did the Apostle, come to a clear consciousness of the conflict. With his understanding, the king finally embraced dogmatically the doctrine of justi fication by faith alone, which is the fundamental doctrine of Protestantism; but with him, as with many, this doctrine which, accepted as hfe and spirit, is the sum of evangelical truth, had only the significance of a dead letter. Trust in the merits of Christ became for him a mere pillow, on which he was disposed falsely to recline even on his death-bed. But nobly did Provost Roloff, his spiritual guide, shake him from his dangerous slumber in the hour of death, when he said to him, in the presence of his court: "I have often told your majesty that Christ is the ground of our salvation, provided we both apprehend him by faith and afterwards foUow his teaching and example, and come to have his mind; so long as this change does not take place we may not hope for salvation. If God should save your majesty by a mir- 96 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. acle, — of which, however, we have no example, — in your present state, heaven would afford you but Uttle happiness. Your army, your treasure, and your country remain here; not even servants wiU follow you, upon whom you may vent the fierceness of your anger, and in heaven the saints are heavenly-minded."1 THese were words worthy of Nathan. The king was silent, and looked round upon his gathered court beseechingly, as if to say: "Will no one come to my relief?" When the rest had left him, he proposed to make a minute confession of his sins, but Roloff repeUed such a thing as inconsistent with Protestantism, and required only the confession that the king needed a change of heart, the very thing to which he seemed most adverse. He fan cied that kings here had some preeminence over others, and sought again and again to justify himself for his deeds. And when one standing by attempted to take the king's part, Roloff recalled to mind his oppression of his people, the great amount of forced labor upon the pubUc buildings, and the barbarous death-warrants. We shall hereafter see how this strict external orthodoxy, connected with a vulgar disposition remote from every noble, intellectual, and scientific struggle, worked especial mischief in the education of Frederick H. The instructions which the king gave to the educators of the crown-prince were pre cisely similar to those under which he himself had been trained. Thus they ran: "My son must be especially taught that the true love and fear of God are the foundation and the only pUlars of our temporal and eternal weU-being. On the contrary, the very mention of aU injurious, destruc tive, and misleading errors and sects, — atheistical, Arian, Socinian, or by whatever name known, which are deadly poison, and may easUy intoxicate, defile, and inveigle so young and tender a spirit, — must be strictly and wholly avoided in his presence. He must also, in like manner, be instructed to regard the Roman Catholic rehgion as an abomination, and have its falsity and absurdity laid before him and im pressed upon him. On the other hand, however, he must be 1 Forster, Vol. II. p. 154. RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 97 directed and led to the true Christian religion, which con sists, before everything else, in the fact that Christ died for all men, and that he is the only consolatory guide in life. He must also be well and thoroughly impressed with the Divine Omnipotence, that a sacred fear and reverence of God be ever present with him; for this [here the two in structions are word for word the same] is the only means of keeping within the limits of propriety the sovereign power, which is freed from human law and punishment."1 All this is very fine and good. But when the living Spirit is wanting, what can the dead letter do? Were not even the most sacred things compelled to wear a ludicrous aspect when united with a pedantic mihtary discipline, which de graded even prayer into an exercise which was to be gone through with in just so many minutes? To say the least, it awakens a very odd feeling to read the certainly well- meant, and in some respects praiseworthy, order as to the manner in which the crown-prince, Frederick the Great, should spend his Sundays: "On Sundays, my son Fritz shall rise at seven o'clock; as soon as he gets on his slippers, he shall fall on his knees at his bedside before God, and offer a short prayer, loud enough to be heard by all in the room. The prayer shall be the following one, which he must com mit to memory: 'Lord God, Holy Father, I sincerely thank Thee that Thou hast so graciously kept me during the night; conform me to Thy holy wiU,-so that I may do nothing to day, or through life, that wiU separate me from Thee, for the sake of our Lord Jesus, my Savior. Amen.'" Certainly a beautiful, simple, hearty, and excellent prayer, such an one as every Christian prince might well offer every morning. But how is this impression weakened by the following order, written in the same tone as the preceding: "As soon as this is done, he shall rapidly and promptly dress, properly wash, comb his hair, and powder himself; and the dressing and short prayer must all be completed in a quarter of an hour, so that it shall then be a quarter after seven o'clock. He shall then eat his breakfast in seven minutes. When this 1 Forster, Vol. I. p. 354. 98 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. is over, all his domestics shall come in, with Duhan, his tutor, and hold the longer prayers, all being on their knees. Duhan shall then read a chapter from the Bible, and some one shall sing a good hymn, until a quarter to eight o'clock, at which time all the domestics shall withdraw. Duhan shall then read and briefly explain to my son the Gospel Lesson appropriate for the Sunday, and therewith state what is essen tial to the Christian life," etc. The king required to be ob served in the public religious services the same punctilious ness which he here demanded. Hence he issued an order that no preacher, under a penalty of two thalers, should preach longer than one hour, exclusive of hymn and prayer. Moreover, the king was at great pains to have able preachers, and to draw such into his kingdom. He consider ed himself the chief bishop of the State Church, and concerned himself minutely with everything that took place in that sphere. He even issued an order compelling the young theo logian's to a reasonable, clear and edifying method of preach ing. They were to use no high oratorical style of speech, nor artificial, allegorical, or flowery words, that might be fine enough from a professor's chair but were worthless in the pulpit, and could do nothing toward promoting practical Christianity, being without power and energy. He commended to their study especially the sermons of Reinbeck. Brovosts Reinbeck and Roloff were indeed most estimable men, to whom the king justly gave his confidence, and who dared to tell him many things which he would not have borne from others. Reinbeck belonged to the number of those whose clear in tellect first penetrated the theology of their times; he was a disciple (perhaps too ardent a one) of the now sprouting Wolfian philosophy, which the king at first hated but after ward favored. In the history of pulpit eloquence, Reinbeck is always named among those who, even before the time of Mosheim, had sought to introduce a mode of preaching more satisfactory to thoughtful minds. Roloff is not known as an author, I believe, but the words he uttered at the king's death bed outweigh whole volumes of printed sermons. But where occasion offered, Reinbeck also met the king with noble ¦SACKS CALL AS COURT-PREACHER. 99 candor.1 On a certain occasion, when tlie latter was boast ing that he knew what was right, Reinbeck answered him with the words of our Lord: ''That servant which knew his lord's will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes." The king felt it, bethought himself, and gave heed to the voice of his conscience. To these worthy men the king added, toward the end of his hfe, the pious and eprnest Augustus Ferdinand William Sack. Let us hear how Sack's son, in his father's Biography, describes his reception:2 "At the beginning of the year 1740, the third royal court- preacher and church-counselor, Noltenius, died at Berlin of apoplexy. A few clays afterward my father received the following cabinet-order: 'Respected, very dear, and faith ful Sir, — Since you are to preach here before me on the approaching Sunday, I desire that you should immediately take extra-post, so as to be here on Saturday. I am your truly affectionate king, Frederick William.' My father started the same day, and arrived the following day in Berlin. On Saturday morning early, the king sent a page to him, with an order that he should preach at the castle the next morn ing; and soon another page followed, by whom the king graciously sent a small copy of the New Testament, with the direction that the preacher should preach out of it. The services took place in the presence of the whole royal house hold. After the sermon, not only did the king express his gracious satisfaction, but also bade him remain and dine with the queen. The king, who was already quite £eeble, was brought into the dining-room on a rolling chair, and con versed with my father most fully and affably. He ordered him to preach again on the following Sunday, saying that he had sometimes been cheated by a single sermon, and wished fully to satisfy himself whether he had indeed found the right man. The second sermon confirmed his good opinion of my father, who therefore now received the appointment to the 1 See Cramer, GeschicMe Friedrich Wilhehn's I. und Friedrich's II. Hamburg, 1829. p. 178. 2 See Sack's Lelensleschreibung, Vol. I. p. 43. 100 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. vacant place of court-preacher, and at the same time, by the royal command, was made a member of the Consistory. Besides this, the king did him the honor of inviting him to a conversation at his bedside. My father was obliged to take his seat on a little bench, on which were seated Chief Court- Preacher Jablonsky, Reinbeck, and, if I rightly remember, Roloff, and he received from the monarch formal instruction as to how he should conduct himself in his office, and be concerned everywhere to promote Christian edification and peace. The king uttered one word on this occasion which my father frequently repeated and which deserves to be here quoted: 'Stick mainly to the New Testament,' said the king, 'and I will tell you what is the main thing in religion: Fear God, love Christ, and do right, the rest is — .' Here escaped from the king (writes Sack) a somewhat stronger expression, altogether foreign to theological language, and which I may not repeat. 'You have many enemies', said the king further, 'who will oppose you in all forms, but be of good cheer, I shall know how to protect you; only come here at once and enter upon your office, for if I die they will upset every thing, and you will be displaced.'" Thus far Sack. The same military harshness which the king conjoined with an obvious sense for religion, — we might say, indeed, con joined with a certain geniality, — shows itself in the manner in which he attempted to reform the church-service. The Lutheran Church, which existed in Prussia alongside of the Reformed, still confessedly retained in its modes of wor ship, — which it had brought with it out of the Church of Rome, — candles, copes, chasubles, Latin hymns, the sign of the cross, etc. The king sought to remove all these, as remnants of popery, by means of an order, issued in 1733. Certain preachers readily yielded to his wish, and even praised him for efforts at reform; others, however, regarded the changes as inconsistent with their conscience, and as a betrayal of genuine Lutheranism. Still others thought the people might be misled by them ; " for," said they, " if we are to remove everything which comes to us from popery, we must even tear down the churches, the most of which were built in the REFORM OF THE CHURCH-SERVICE. 101 popish period." One preacher gave information that the first time the service was celebrated according to the Iting's order, the people looked at each other in astonishment. Others reported that they had heard in their churches mournful complaints and sighs over the change. They called attention to the deep symbolical meaning of Ughting candles, for there by were symbolized the burning of the love of God and the duty ' of Christians to let their Ught shine before the people. x But the king adhered to his order, and repeated it in 1737, with the statement: "If persons shall be found who have doubts, or who wish to make it a matter of conscience, they may understand that they can be relieved by dismission from their parishes." And in fact, one preacher, Braun, of Passen, who spoke out his mind freely in opposition to the king, was deprived of his place. But who acted most in the spirit of genuine Protestantism, the king who burdened the conscience by the violent removal of popish forms, or the preacher who, for conscience' sake, endured the injustice done him by his sovereign? In another aspect the king showed himself tolerant. Orthodox and pedantic as he was, when the honor of God was outwardly concerned he attached no importance to theological controversy, which he contempt uously characterized as the "quarrels of priests." "It will not be inquired hereafter," he justly remarked, "Have you been a good disputant?", but, "Have you kept my commandments?" And hence he made no great difference between the two Evan geUcal Confessions, whose adherents watched each other with ceaseless suspicion. He himself was Reformed and the queen Lutheran, but he frequently heard sermons by the Lutheran preachers, and on account of their heartiness and popularity, preferred them to the Refoimed, whose sermons even at that period, after the pattern of Tillotson and Saurin, had too much the character of learned treatises. "It is a shame," said he, "that these Lutheran gentlemen have the greatest abundance of honest, discreet, noble clergymen, and that their 1 The opinions of the preachers may be found in Cramer, p. 98. ff., and elsewhere. Vol. L— 8 102 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. sermons should be so much more edifying and heart-stirring than those of our Reformed preachers."1 Hence he selected his army-chaplains from among the Lutherans, for he believed they would make a stronger impression upon the hearts of the soldiers than the Reformed with their learned treatises. Frederick William I. was generally very much interested in what related to the peace of the church, whether within or beyond his own dominions. We shall hereafter have op portunity to see proofs of this. Let us pause a few moments longer at his personal character. Frederick WUUam I. died on the 31st of May, 1740. We have already spoken of his last moments. The exactness with which he gave directions respecting his funeral is remarkable. He directed precisely where and how each battalion should take its position; how they should mount; and how they should fire in succession at the interment. To these military ¦orders he added spiritual directions. As in life so in death, military and Christian discipline were intimately united. He •selected his funeral text: "I have fought a good fight," along with which the hymn to be sung was: "Who yields himself to God's control." He said further: "Not one word must be spoken concerning my life and conduct, or even my actions and personal relations. The people must be informed, how ever, that I have expressly forbidden it, with the addition that I died as a great and poor sinner, who nevertheless sought grace at the hand of God his Savior. In no funeral sermon, anywhere, must I be disparaged or praised." In these words the king gave the judgment of history. History cannot be his panegyrist; for with much that was praiseworthy in his life there will be found many things of quite another sort, especially if we apply the Christian rule of judgment, which the pious king knew full well would be applied. But measured by this rule, where is the man who is entitled to praise or renown? Therefore, let no one dis parage him; and here, perhaps, history is to blame. The father has usually been measured by the son; and those who had borrowed their measure of all human greatness entirely 1 Forster, Vol. I. p. 342. FREDERICK WILLIAM I. AS A PROTESTANT. 103 from Frederick the Great, would naturally have no eye for what was still worthy of respect in Frederick I. and his age, with all their weaknesses and faults. Thus Voltaire has scraped together whatever he could find that was ridiculous and offensive about the person of the old king, and even his own daughter, the Princess of Baireuth, has assisted in mak ing the memory of her' father contemptible, while the great Frederick himself had a high opinion of his father. The later portraitures of history are more correct. The royal Prussian court-counselor, Frederick Forster, has devoted to the life of Frederick William I. three large volumes, drawn entirely from original sources, in which light and shade are applied, as in every just picture they should be, according to the verdict of facts. We have reUed mainly upon his state ments, and we wish to commend the book to all who take pleasure in sketches of character. Although Schlosser, in his History of the Eighteenth Cen tury, decides that his character is "neither noble nor estim able," he yet knew how to esteem the German directness, simpUcity, and even roughness which characterized him in opposition to the French nonsense which was in vogue both before and after his day. We leave it to others to give a complete estimate of his character. We shall merely select from the labors of others a few results for our history. One part of the nature of Frederick William I. was truly Protestant, and well deserves to be woven into the history of the development of Protestantism. Here belong not only his hearty, paternal care for Protestantism itself, and for Protestant ecclesiasticism, but also his decided love of truth, the earnestness with which he treated religious affairs in general, and his strict management of questions of external discipline. He had, however, only this one side of Prot estantism. He represents a certain tendency which has re mained in the Protestant church, in certain natures and indi viduals, to- the present day, — a tendency which thinks it ^ possible to unite genuine piety of heart with an unsubdued rudeness of life, religiousness with ignorance. ReUgion, to be sure, does not consist in an agreeable disposition and 104 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. deportment, for we can recall many persons of but little edu cation who are farther advanced in religion than the most cultivated and gifted of our acquaintance. But their innocent lack of culture must not be confounded with intentional igno rance, with that barbarism which boasts of its stupidity, or with that narrowness which seeks in ignorance and obtuse- ness a higher degree of piety, a sort of moral merit. What might be proper enough for a peasant or a herdsman, might be very offensive in a king. The contempt of Frederick William I. for science was a sin of which he could have been but slightly conscious. How far did this Protestant sovereign fall below the princes of the period of the Reformation, and of a little later period, who advanced Protestantism precisely by promoting the light of science! How far did he fall below Frederick the Wise, Elizabeth, William of Orange, Gustavus Adolphus, and his own ancestor, the great Elector! How far also was this period below the earlier one ! Frederick William I. was not, indeed, opposed to all science, but only to all into whose practical utility he had no insight ; hence his hostility to the dead languages and ancient history. But precisely herein lies his coarseness. What made the Reformers and the princes who were united with them, and even their whole period, so great was, that they were able to esteem knowl edge itself as the light of the intellect, in which the mind's eye rejoices, just as that of the body rejoices in green past ures, while the brute seeks simply to satisfy his appetite from them. The newly awakened taste for classical learning, which appears so conspicuously in the period of the Reformation, was closely and earnestly united with its evangelism, and each served the other. But this was no longer the case. Learning had degenerated into miserable pedantry, and fresh, evangelical, courageous faith into a mere effete ortho doxy. And thus the necessity of culture was no longer ob vious, not even when there remained a longing for living piety. The two were .separated. Hence, as piety still re mained in connection with such knowledge as was not ap parently of practical utility, it was easy for contempt of all THE SPIBIT AND FORM OF RELIGION. 105 such knowledge to take an anti-religious form. Indeed, it was precisely that materiahsm which denies the soul an existence of its own which made war upon the sphere of rehgious ideas about a generation later, and declared a thor ough and learned study of the Bible resting upon philological research to be wholly superfluous, which now, — because it proposed to construct out of the doctrine of eternal redemp tion a mere utilitarian theory, — felt itself called upon to com mend even to preachers the practical sciences in preference to everything else. It is worthy of praise in the king that he attached impor tance to devotional exercises; but where this .awakens no higher spiritual hfe, it can only degenerate into a dead mechan ism, which is wholly inconsistent with a healthful Protestant feehng. The prayer that must go by the clock, as Frederick WiUiam I. presented it to his son, is certainly not the best means of leading the soul to introspection, or of directing it up to God. The history of Frederick II. will clearly show that the overloading of his mind with reUgious matter and mere devotional exercises, in the absence of intellectual nour ishment of another sort, contributed to estrange him from religion. And how many examples of a similar kind do we meet with in both former and recent times! But what we complain of here in King Frederick William has respect more or less to the so-caUed " good old times, " or rather to their prejudiced admirers. How often do we hear the piety of those past times lauded, in comparison with ours! But how often is it mere form, which, however promising, really con tains no corresponding substance! But wherever this corre sponding substance exists, even though the forms be antiqua ted, nothing must prevent us from honoring the true sphit of piety. But if this spirit be the chief thing in ques tion, though the forms of its manifestation may differ from those of an earUer period, we need not search in vain for it in our own times. What may be wanting in form is compensa ted for, when true reUgious life really exists, by a higher intellectual culture. Or will such culture be rather accused as a hindrance to Christian life? Nay, may not this Chris- 106 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. tian life, which shows itself with such thorough earnestness in our times, make still higher demands where it is united with a noble, free and humane spirit, and with a proper intellectual culture, which can more easUy dispense with binding forms? Moreover, it can not be said that Frederick William I. withdrew himself entirely from the progress of his century. Quite the reverse. He aided in preparing the way for im provement, and we see the buds of a new age coming forth under the rough and thorny husk of his nature. We have lamented his disregard of science: But that very repugnance to the science of the learned class of his day reveals a certain soundness of mind which was remarkably united with rudeness. Indeed, his thorough hostility to ped antry and the ridicule with which he lashed it, are an indication of the Protestant nature of the king; for the mere display of learning is as hostile to the spirit of Protestantism as the pomp of forms without the living substance in other things. The science which Frederick William I. neither un derstood nor loved, was compelled to undergo a transfor mation for Germany, and to enter into fresh and vital relations with the life of faith and of the church, before it could again secure the respect and love of the nation and of its represen tative spirits. This it did, under the most unfavorable ch cumstances, purely from its own resources. And, finally, the manner in which the king dealt with con fessional differences exhibits him as if looking forward, and anticipating the results which later times could not fail to bring about. And in this struggle we must now place our selves, if we are to understand the internal history of Prot estantism as developed in the eighteenth century. LECTURE VL THE LUTHERANS AND THE REFORMED. — ATTEMPTS AT UNION. — VALENTINE ERNEST LOSCHER. — PFAFF AND KLEMM. — WERENFELS, OSTERWALD, TURRETIN, ZIMMERMANN. — PIE TISM. — CHRISTIAN WOLF AND JOACHIM LANGE. — ON THE RELATION OF PIETISM TO PHILOSOPHY. Having now reviewed the character of the man who rep resented more thoroughly than any other the first half of . the eighteenth century, we now propose to examine more care fully the ecclesiastical struggles of that period. There are these three conflicts of surpassing importance: 1. That be tween the two confessions of Protestantism, — the Lutheran and the Reformed; 2. That between the orthodox and the Pietists; 3. That of the Pietists against the incipient Wolfian Philosophy. The first, whatever of energy it might seem to acquire, appeared rather to belong to a by-gone age, and was compelled to give place to the labors for peace which were ever more clearly advancing; even the second, which had already begun in the seventeenth century, gradually lost its importance; while the third, the battle between Pietism and philosophy, already most clearly embraced in the germ the strife of principles which continued through the century, and which substantially continues, under other forms, to agitate our own times. Beginning with the first, contests between the Lutherans and the Reformed were by no means wanting, — contests which assumed in some places the malignant aspect usually exhibited in controversies between Protestants and Romanists. 108 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Up to the middle of the eighteenth century, the contention did not stop with the scientific discussion of doctrines; but in Lutheran cities, where the Reformed also Uved, it also embraced the right of the latter to use the churches. This was the case in Frankfort, Worms, and Hamburg. It was in the last-named place that Pastor Goetze, — whose con troversy with Lessing had for sixty years made him fa mous, — in the fury of his zeal pronounced the doctrine of the Reformed a "doctrine of devils;" and he held it in the highest degree dangerous to allow them a single right.1 Almost half a century before, in 1720, Pastor Neumeister had indulged in similar expressions. With mournful but ludi crously employed perspicacity, he labored to prove that the Re formed did not believe in a single article of the Apostles' Creed, or in a single petition of the Lord's Prayer; that they sin ned against the Ten Commandments by their doctrine; that hence they had no religion at all; that their doctrine was a wretched beggar's mantle, patched up out of mere rags of heresy ; and that he, the writer, would rather be a brute, a miserable worm, than the most renowned and distinguished Calvinistic theologian, for such must assuredly meet their doom in hell. Christ and Belial would sooner agree than Luther and Calvin. Still, it must be said to the credit of the century of which we are treating, that such talk as this seemed to greet men's ears like the rude noise of an angry or drunken man heard in the distance; that the most fiery of the zealots began to complain very naively that they were losing the market for their controversial writings; and that the people even preferred to read the ungodly writings which were favorable to ecclesiastical union.2 Many such publications expressing the desire for peace appeared, and efforts from various sides were made to unite the separated confessions. The House of Brandenburg placed itself at the head of these. Frederick I. was deeply inter ested, and acted with great caution; he wisely rejected all 1 Schlegel, Kirchengeschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts. Vol. II. 1. p. 302; Comp. p. 285 ff. ° Hering, Geschichte der Union. Vol. II. p. 330. ATTEMPTS AT CONFESSIONAL UNITY. 109 violent measures, although advice to pursue such a course was not wanting. John Joseph Winkler, a preacher in Magde burg, delivered to the king a plan of union, based on a princi ple of Thomasius, that the king is the first bishop or pope of his country, and therefore has the right to use his authority in such matters.1 This was dangerous counsel, for sad as is the evil of separate confessions among the Protestants, stUl it is a less one than a compulsory unity would be; for as the enemies of the union showed, such a compulsory union would produce a division in each of the two churches, and there would result four parties instead of two. Leibnitz wisely condemned this plan, for although he wrought ear nestly for the union of the confessions, he did not regard this scheme as a mesage of peace, but as a call to battle. What the king did was confined to the regulation of churches to which preachers of both confessions were appoinW, that they and the churches might become accustomed to each other. One such church was established as early as 1705, in Friedrichstadt, Berlin. Here, at the dedication, they laid on the altar as a symbol of peace the Lutheran and Heidel berg Catechisms, side by side.2 But this dedicatory scene produced considerable opposition. One of the most zealous and learned theologians of that day, the strict Lutheran Su perintendent, Valentine Ernest Loscher, of Dresden, presented to the king a special address, in which he set forth the great danger of a religious union. This Valentine Ernest Loscher (born 1672, f 1749) belonged properly to the latest cham pions for Lutheran orthodoxy in the old Saxon sense.3. He was in many respects a most estimable and even a godly man, and was very learned and active. His collection of all the legal documents relating to the history of the Reformation is a highly meritorious work. He also wrote hymns ; but 1 Not Winkler, but a certain Welmer, was the real author of the plan; see Schlegel; p. 252. 2 Schlegel; p. 254. 8 Comp. M. Engelhardt, Valentin Ernst LSscher nach seinem Leben und Wirken. Stuttgart, 1856. A book which, with all its partiality for its hero and for the confessional tendency to which its author was devoted, contains much that is good and worthy of attention. 110 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. stUl his nature was truly polemical. As a polemic he war red bravely with the Catholics and the Reformed about him. We shall also see him coming forward against the Pietists. First of all, however, we must become acquainted with the men who labored in the interests of ecclesiastical peace. Among these, the preacher Christopher Matthew Pfaff, of Tubingen, distinguished himself, who published in 1720 a pacificatory address to Protestants, and afterwards issued many other works in the same spirit. Pfaff distinguished very justly between confessional unity in its minutiae, and unity in fundamentals. He showed that it was only needful to guard the latter, but that it was impossible to secure the former. "If the Apostles," said he, "should return among us, and should be called to professors' chairs, they would evince a woeful ignorance about the things which are the themes of strife among our theologians. But how happy would it be for the universities if the part of sacred learning now devoted to theological controversy could only be presented with appropriate skill to the minds of the students, and a love of truth and peace, with abhorrence of foolish anathematizing and of all harsh and malicious contradiction, be firmly impressed upon them!" In the same spirit with Pfaff, his colleague, Professor Klemm, said: "Hitherto the attempt has been to make eccle siastical unity the same with a unity of professorial instruc tion; the two have been confounded; it will be enough to re store the former, the other may be let alone; let the professors teach in their chairs as they will, but no questions of con troversy should be allowed in the pulpit, and the Reformed should be recognized as brethren in the faith." Simple and natural as these expressions are to us now, devoid as they may be of special interest, they become joyful utterances when we meet them at the opening of a century in which a decidedly opposite spirit is also found to exist. It was taking a very important step to distinguish between I I the theology of the professor's chair, and rehgion as the people and the individual heart needed it; and this step once taken, others foUowed. In entire agreement with the two A TRACT OF THE TIMES. Ill men just named, an anonymous tract of this period well says: " What is necessary for all' must be plain, unartificial, easy, small in amount, and so clearly explained to all that each may be without excuse. And yet men have assumed to know more to be essential to salvation than God has made clear and distinct in the Scriptures, and especially in the New Testament; and just here has arisen the want of unity. Had we beUeved that God was better able to speak concerning divine things than ourselves, we should not have had so many formulae and systems, and forced them on the poor laity as rules of faith. What God has conferred on man out of the sources of his goodness has been transformed by human wisdom into poison, and used as a bait with which to draw men into strife, mahce, bitterness, persecution, fire and sword, and to draw them off from divine charity. . . . The first and essential qualities of true faith are truth, honesty, and faithfulness. Brain-faith [a striking expression], however, the merely intellectual acceptance as truth, — something sim ply theoretical, — so long as the heart is not influenced to choose and to work according to it, is of no account before God, even if it embrace the very essence of truth. On the other hand, one's faith will not injure him even though con siderable errors should mix with it, provided they do not prevent him from choosing the truly good and rejecting the evil. This is the real touch-stone by which to know true and false Christians, and true and false churches; and at the same time the only means of attaining true unity in the church. . . . The best guide is Jesus, who knew the human heart better than all others, and who has shown mankind a path in which even fools cannot lose themselves. He has given us but few truths, but they are to be acted. These he has told us so clearly, plainly, and often, that all must acknowledge them, and that nothing might remain but for each to do them, as he himself had done them before. He has, besides, forbidden us to judge our brethren, and even demanded that we shall let the tares alone until the harv est. The Apostles pursued the same course." x 1 Hering, Vol. TI. p. 345. We use this work as our chief authority here. 112 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Many of the Reformed responded in the same spirit of conciliation and reason in which the thoughtful Lutheran theologians treated the question. As early as the seventeenth century some of the teachers of this church, particularly in the Academy of Saumur, had softened the stern dogma of Dort respecting unconditional election, and had thus come nearer to the Lutheran conception.1 In Switzerland, indeed, on the other hand, the stricter party had introduced a formula (formula consensus); but that this was set aside at the be ginning of the eighteenth century is a proof that the spirit of the times had changed. It was Frederick William I. of Prussia, in connection with Great Britain, who induced the Swiss to give up their formula as opposed to the peace of the church. And here Basle may be presented as an example of gentleness. In my former lectures, I have already men tioned Samuel Werenfels. He was a man of truly peace- seeking nature, and it was mainly through his influence that the report respecting the abrogation of the formula consensus was drawn up, which the clergy of Basle laid before the gov ernment in May, 1723. This paper said, among other things:. " The best means of maintaining fraternal unity are, according to our judgment, for preachers and teachers to look more at the honor of God and less at their own; to set aside what ever does not tend to edification; to seek no vain reputation in useless speculations and subtleties; in their teaching and preaching carefully to avoid all that could offend other brethren ; and, finally, to pursue the chief work of Christianity in preference to everything else, and not to magnify the im portance of secondary matters."2 Thus did the pious clergy of Basle express themselves a hundred and thirty years ago, when other Swiss cities, as Berne and Zurich, were still resolutely and stubbornly clinging 1 Not that their conception of this dogma could have agreed with the Lutheran. Alexander Schweitzer has shown, in many places, that these theologians of Saumur preserved a Reformed type even in their hetero doxy. Such people as these, however, would always rather seek a confessional peace than one with their enemies. 2 This is in Ochs, Geschichte von Basel, Vol. VII. p. 486.. SWISS THEOLOGIANS. 113 to the orthodoxy of the letter, until at last the ice began to break under their feet also. The breezes which brought the thaw came from abroad. In the French part of Switzerland there were two men most intimately united in friendship- with our own Werenfels; they were Frederick Osterwald of Neuenburg and Alphonse Turretin of Geneva, both of whom were distinguished by gentleness of spirit and by their decided repugnance to all the theological contentions of the day. In fuU agreement with what we have quoted from the reasonable thinkers of the Lutheran Church, Osterwald thought that what is given to the people in preaching should be clear and com prehensible to all, and wished that the theological students might be trained with this view rather than for theological controversy. "What is essential," said he, "is also the clear est; the obscure in religion is not the essential.1 He com plained that the youth were too early introduced to theo logical polemics instead of being taught the practical char acter of religion; on this account, therefore, he condemned the early use of the Heidelberg Catechism, and, in the year 1702, pubUshed a treatise, which, as well as his scientific Compendiums of Dogmatics and Ethics, was for a. long time regarded with great favor. This mild disposition of Osterwald, in which he was resembled by his friend Al phonse Turretin, reacted upon German Switzerland. Thus especially the Zurich theologian, J.J. Zimmermann, confessed that he had attained to freer and clearer views through the writings of Werenfels, Turretin and Osterwald.2 He also acknowledged, that even in his student-years he was greatly suspected and frequently slighted by the strictly orthodox heads of the church who then ruled at Zurich; and when he himself became professor in Zurich, in 1737, the zealots made a great noise, as though an en tirely new rehgion were about to be introduced. And, in fact, this religion was so far a new one as to differ con- 1 Compare Schuler, Thaten und Sitten der Eidgenossen, Vol. III. p. 187. 2 In a letter to Sack; see his Lebensbeschreibung, Vol. I. p. 153. Com pare, respecting this Zurich theologian, the Dissertation of 0. F. Fritzsche (Zurich, 1841), and Schweitzer's Centraldogmen, Vol. II. p. 791 ff. 114 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. siderably from that which had hitherto passed for the old and the only true one. But we know how that much-lauded old doctrine had only become old by allowing truths once new and fresh to rust into a dead treasure; and thus, in spite of its struggles, it was gradually pushed aside by the new doctrine and the new times. But then the doctrine which now came to pass for new did not remain so. Much of what Werenfels and Oster wald taught has become old again, at least in form, for our times; and it is quite remarkable how much of what was then supposed to be subdued, has again reasserted its importance in the present day, even among the subtlest thinkers. This is the usual course of things. After an age has accepted certain ideas, if these ideas become old and useless they are nothing more than forms and husks, . be cause they have lost their vital moisture, on which everything depends. Even the last idea that takes the place of the old only holds its ground in proportion as it is new and fresh, and is penetrated by this vital moisture. And this usually continues just so long as the new views and ideas are at the same time supported by distinguished men, and are held and pervaded by a vital spirit. By and by come suc cessors who inherit the forms and the words, without the spirit which gave them hfe; and then comes death, making place for other phenomena, which are suited to the age. As the doctrines of the Reformers of the sixteenth century were gradually hardened by bhnd imitators into a dead letter, so also was it with this Uberal theology of Turretin and Oster wald, which; at the best, contained but little solid substance, but was rather soft and fluid; greatly thinned and watered by later hands, it needed dykes and hard substances to prevent it from flowing away into utter uncertainty. But, in express ing censure upon a system, we must be careful not un justly to condemn its author. As it was formerly the fashion, from the standpoint of modern liberaUsm, to pass sentence of wholesale condemnation upon the old scholastic theology, so now there are many who decry as dull and shallow everything new produced by the eighteenth century, — THE RISE OF PIETISM. 115 from its first decades forward, — because it was not born of that profound speculation upon which our own age plumes itself. Let us therefore be just and reasonable, and judge each phenomenon by its own times. In my opinion, the theol ogy of Osterwald, which was necessary a hundred years ago, and therefore a great benefit, would not satisfy the deeper spirit of research in our own day. Indeed, I fully believe that if the demand is for theology, for a system, an in genious, logical, and complete doctrinal structure for the understanding, the old scholastic theologians have greatly the advantage both in thoroughness and depth ; but yet I confess that I love to linger about the bright portraits of those men, who, from their old vaUs, their broad rolling-collars, and their periwigs, look down upon us so kindly, so humanely, and so cheerfully, when compared with the dark, wrinkled brows and bristling beards of the inquisitors and bigots of an ear lier period. Those cheerful faces remind me of the first beams of the vernal sun after a long, cold winter. It is, indeed, not a tropical sun, whose glow produces a rich and luxuriant vegetation, but rather the March sun of our colder regions, which warms and cheers during the damp days of Spring. Meantime, the glowing warmth of noonday was not whoUy wanting. Side by side with the mild and tem perate theology of the approaching illuminism there appeared the religion of feehng, reaching deeper into the heart and stirring to activity its stronger impulses, but at that time agreeing with illuminism in attaching the highest importance to matters of practical necessity, and in assigning small value to the religion of dogmas and of the memory. We find this tendency represented in Pietism. Under this term we do not include everything which the passion and ignorance of history have seen fit to attach to it, but merely that movement in the German Protestant Church which, arising in the time of Spener and Francke, had its special seat at Halle at the beginning of the century, and thence spread itself over Germany. It was that tendency which, opposing the scholastic theology of the period, was zealous for practical piety and simple, Biblical Christianity; 116 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. which, proceeding from the deep sense of sin in man and the corruption of his natural powers, was ever pressing toward a change of mind and the new birth; which tested everything in the sphere of the church and of theology by this rule, to which it also added a certain stringency in judging outward things; and which, with some, degenerated under certain cir cumstances into painful anxiety and unfairness. Because this movement awakened many from their slumber, it had its enemies from the first, and was not without them even at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The same Ernest Val entine Loscher who had distinguished himself by his zeal 1 against the Union and the Reformed, and in favor of pure Lutheranism, also set himself against the Pietists. He pub lished a journal under the title of "Harmless Intelligence," in which the phenomena of Pietism were examined with a keen and often unsparing criticism. As much as Loscher himself was personally distinguished for his pious style of thought, he nevertheless accused Pietism of being narrow, because it attached but little importance to dogmatic learning and science, together with doctrinal definitions and theological polemics, and was disposed to make the value of a theologian wholly dependent on the degree of holiness to which he had attained. Loscher fell into a literary controversy on this subject with Joachim Lange, at that time Professor in Halle and one of the leaders of the Pietism then in the ascendant there, which resulted rather to the advantage of the Pietists. In this instance, however, Lange aUowed himself to be drawn into the use of certain angry expressions. He called his opponent the worst of all church- wolves ; compared him with the Apocalyptic Beast; and described his writings and dis courses as satanical delusion and pettifogging knavery.1 This is a proof that the old tendency of the orthodox to brand others as heretics, which had formerly been exhibited against the Pietists, had now begun to conquer the Pietists themselves, and was in turn showing itself in an inclination to persecute others. This was exhibited soon after in connection with the call of Christian Wolf, the philosopher, to Halle. 1 Schlegel; p. 355; and Engelhardt; p. 169 ff. CHRISTIAN WOLF AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 117 Hitherto, Halle had been the seat of a theology distin guished for its power of faith. Philosophy had modestly sub ordinated itself to theology. The independence with which it now came forward in the person of WoU, and the boldness of his greatly misunderstood system, necessarily produced in pious minds an anxiety of which we can well conceive, though we cannot trace the repugnance of the Pietistic professors to Wolf and his phUosophy to the base motives of morbid ambition and envy. It is important that we pause awhile at this controversy, since the tendencies of the century are here disclosed in a most remarkable manner. Christian Wolf,1 born at Breslau on the 24th of January, 1679, was the son of a tanner. As he tells us in his Auto biography, he received a strictly ecclesiastical education. Even in his chUdhood he diligently attended church without regard to weather, read the Bible, and addicted himself to the use of hymns, as, indeed, from his cradle he had been dedicated to the work of the ministry by his parents. In the gymnasium of his native city he obtained such a knowledge of theology, that, when he came to study it at the University of Jena, he found, as he assures us, but little new to learn. The lectures on physics and mathematics were more attrac tive to him than those on theology; still, it remained his earnest purpose "to serve God in the clerical office," and so much the more as he had been dedicated to it by the vow of his parents. Wolf himself tells us in his Autobiography, that even while he was at Breslau, where there were many Catholics who were continually in strife with the Lutherans, he had often asked himself the question, "Whether it were not possible to exhibit the truth in theology so clearly as to make contradic tion impossible?" As he now learned that mathematics made its proofs so certain that every one must admit them, he studied them that he might use them as an instrument of infallible certainty in the proofs of theology. Unlike others, he em ployed mathematics for a long time only as a help to theol ogy. The usual way was to regard the study of languages and 1 Compare his Selbaibiographie, published by Wuttke. Leipzig, 1841. Vol. I.— 9 118 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. history as the appropriate preparation for theology, and to neglect mathematics and the natural sciences. He preached a few times, and, as he tells us, with great acceptance. "My sermons," says he, "were liked even in Leipzig, where I preached for the last time in the Church of St. Nicholas, on Whit Tuesday, 1706, because I sought to explain things by clear conceptions and always deduced one thing from another. ... I was told more than once, that when unlearned persons were asked how it was that they could keep their attention fixed on my sermons as they could not upon those of others, they answered that they could invariably understand me as they could not others. On the other hand, the learned often told me that what I had preached was good, but too high for the common people." Thus, according to Wolf's testimony, his talent for teaching revealed itself in his sermons, and this talent served him a ,good purpose in the academical course of hfe on which he soon entered. If he had hitherto studied mathematics only as an aid to theology, they now, in connection with philos ophy, stepped more and more into the foreground, and finally became the work of his life. In philosophical qualities of mind he was unquestionably inferior to Leibnitz, in whose footsteps he trod. He had, however, this advantage: he could state philosophical truths intelligibly, and thus he was able to adapt philosophy, winch had heretofore been accessible to only a few thinking minds, to men of more ordinary mold. And this was his vocation: to make philosophy the common inheritance of the century for edu cated people. After he had proved his gifts as an academical teacher at Leipzig and Giessen, he received a call, in 1707, to Halle, as Professor of Mathematics and Physics. After 1709 he held lectures . in special departments of philosophy, meta physics, logic, and morals. His popularity grew with the zeal which he displayed in the presentation of these sciences. He was distinguished from previous so-called phuosophers by the clearness and distinctness of his mode of expressing his thoughts; but in proportion to the growth of his popu- WOLFIANISM IN THE PULPIT. 119 larity, the suspicion was increased that his method of treating phUosophy and of drawing theological truths over into it, might injure the certainty of faith and the purity of doctrine. This danger appeared to be founded as well upon the form as upon the contents of his philosophy. A purely mathemat ical and inteUectual mode of representation, stripped of aU the figures of mystical expression, could not fail to give offence in the sphere of theology; and this for the simple reason that it has always been the custom to view the dog mas of the church in the twihght of the surrounding mystery, and very properly to see in the figurative expression more than the mere image. There was, indeed, danger that this attempt to make everything plain and exact would flatten out the sublime truths of Christianity into trivialities by an over minute dissection of its conceptions; particularly as there were not wanting here, as elsewhere, mere imitators who could never get enough of a good thing. Hence, stories have been told of Wolfian preachers of that day who sought clearness of statement in an exact def inition of each word of the text. For example, when it is said in the 8th Chapter of Matthew: "When Jesus was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him," the preacher supposed himself to be interpreting profoundly when he explained, that a mountain is an elevated place and the multitudes a certain number of persons, etc. In this way, preaching became an exercise in logic instead of a means of edification; breadth was taken for profundity, and tediousness for thoroughness. And hence it was natural that those who regarded not merely instruction but edifi cation and elevation as the end of preaching, should set themselves against such outrageous pedantry with great ear nestness. But it was not only the demonstrative form which injured the Wolfian philosophy, and which became offensive only by its unskillful transfer to the pulpit, and therefore could not be charged upon the author; but even the contents of the teaching gave occasion to much misunderstanding. It is always a difficult thing to select particular positions from a strictly phUosophical system, and to judge of these 120 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. either from the standpoint of the common understanding or of practical piety. It indicates a lack of culture and want of thought to demand, that, in a great chain of thoughts which are linked in a philosophical system, each member of the chain shall aUow itself to be taken out singly, and in this isolation to be jointed without explanation into our accustomed train of thought. There are ideas which receive their Ught only from other ideas which surround them, and which have a good meaning in the mouth of a wise man and in connection with his thinking, but which appear sheer nonsense in the mouth of the multitude and in an improper surrounding of foreign thoughts. Hence it has always been an easy task to make the philosophers and their doctrines appear ludicrous, and to bring them into the suspicion of the multitude. When an attempt is made to convert suddenly what phUosophy presents as bare speculation into an article of faith and into a lesson of the catechism, and to treat it as such, neither philosophy nor religion receives a benefit, but both are thrown into disorder. Not as though the truths of philosophy and those of religion could contradict each other; but there is a philosophical and a religious connection of thought, and a philosophical and a religious use of language. The one relates exclusively to knowledge, the other is built upon faith; the one may and must be apprehended in its definite outlines by the understanding, while the other, from its very nature, can only be apprehended from the standpoint of pious feeling and of the inward and most intimate ex perience in life. And the confusion of these two standpoints, just as it stiU occurs in our day, has produced, and stiU continues to produce, untold controversies. We know of no better illustration of the relation of philos ophy to faith than that of physics and astronomy to the direct experience of daily Ufe. It would be quite as fooUsh to be unwUUng to see until the theory of Ught had been explained, as it would be to cease or to forbid investigation itself, because it might hinder the people from enjoying the Ught. Since God said: "Let there be light," the Ught has sinned into the darkness, and in all theories we have CONFLICT BETWEEN WOLF AND THE PIETISTS. 121 had morning and evening. Thus should it also be with the inward Ught which Jesus has Idndled for us. Faith abides in the Ught, rejoices in the light, and sees and per ceives in the Ught; but science only inquires into the nature of Ught. If science were foolish enough to deny the existence of the sun, he would stiU shine on despite of it. Yet it might easily happen that the theory of natural light would make some assertion which an uneducated man might understand to be a denial of the existence of the sun. And so may it happen in phUosophy. A novel representation of God, a new and unfamiliar form of expression respecting his nature and his relation to the world, might easily appear to the uneducated mind to be a denial of God. Therefore, let not your curiosity carry you beyond your proper sphere. If your faith is a true faith, not a mere acceptance of truths upon authority, but a life and an experience, let science search' and dig away, — she wUl not mislead you. . A time will come, perhaps, when you will understand her; if not, faith still stands in her own right. Thus should true Pietism have thought, according to its own standpoint. It should have let its Ught shine, and the philosophers philosophize by its side; and the two interests might have flourished entirely apart. But it was not so. The Pietists were too quickly alarmed at the propositions of Wolf; they saw in them dangerous here sies, and, as was to be expected, Wolf and his disciples soon saw in the Pietists enemies of science and ignoramuses, if not Ught-hating hypocrites. If we examine into the manner in which the controversy was conducted, we shaU find that there were errors on both sides; that on both sides passion took part in the game; and that nothing edifying resulted from the battle except, perhaps, an admonition to us to be careful in simiUar cases. It was the doctrine of the so-called "preestablished har mony" which stirred the hostility of pious men, — a doctrine s introduced by Leibnitz and carried further by Wolf. It taught that the monads, from all eternity, had an inchnation toward each other, and that under the influence of this tendency the world had taken shape. The Biblical conception \ 122 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of a free creation by God, as also human freedom, seemed endangered by this doctrine, although as a mere hypothesis of the schools it was by no means so dangerous to the church as was feared. Augustus Herman Francke confesses how he besought God on his knees in his chamber, to restrain the false doctrine and darkness of atheism which seemed about to break in. And who would blame the good man for this? He and his associate, Joachim Lange, now regarded it as their duty to warn the students against the Wolfian errors; and it can only redound to their honor that they foUowed the dictates of their conscience as God-fearing men. It is a mere conjecture of Lange's enemies that he was moved by jealousy to attack the philosopher because, since the arrival of the latter, his own lecture-room was almost empty. But it is nevertheless manifest that they went to work under the in fluence of passion; that they distrusted the power of faith; and that they felt themselves called upon to oppose by external means the free development of the intellect. These must at least be laid to their charge as evidences of short sightedness and narrowness. The battle between Wolf and the Pietists broke out pubUcly on a somewhat notable occasion. It occurred on the 16th of July, 1721, when Wolf was required to resign the deputy- rectorship to his antagonist, Joachim Lange. On that occasion the philosopher dehvered a lecture on the Ethics of Confucius, of which he gave quite a high estimate. The strict theologians thought they detected in the lecture a depreciation of Christian morals and an unbecoming respect for heathenism; and they caUed Wolf to account for it. He was but Uttle inclined to submit himself to the judgment of the theological faculty, but defended the freedom of philosophical teaching. In the meantime, Breithaupt, the senior of the theological faculty, had brought the matter before the people from the pulpit, and thus first stirred up their passions. This made it aU the more unlikely that Wolf would meet them kindly. Most of the students were on the philosopher's side; many, perhaps, took their position from mere vanity, for it has been the custom among the youth of the universities to range themselves under BANISHMENT OF WOLF FROM HALLE. 123 the banner of the man who appears to be the rising star of a new period. Pietism fell into contempt among the students, and the affair came to quarrels and scandalous scenes. They greeted Wolf, the retiring rector, with "Bravo!", but Lange with "Down with him!", accompanied with many shame fully abusive expressions.1 Indeed, Lange received a great deal of such undeserved maltreatment from the insolence of the unfledged youthful philosophers, for Joachim Lange, with all his narrowness was a learned man, a highly meritorious teacher, and a faithful servant, of the gospel. Meanwhile, the controversy went on in writing, and it was so managed se cretly that it resulted in Wolf losing his place. We have seen in the foregoing lecture how much opposed Frederick William I. was to the learned class; and it is nothing to the credit of those concerned that they used his prejudices to effect the dismissal of Wolf, though, as it would seem, without the knowledge of Lange. The abuse of tearing philosophical propositions out of their legitimate connection and making them hateful and ridiculous to the common mind, was employed here in the Coarsest possible way. Advantage was taken of the king's well-known weakness for tall soldiers, and he was told that the doctrine of preestablished harmony ¦ was likely to be dangerous, because the soldiers might take it into their heads that they were preestablished or fore ordained to desert. This argumentum ad hominem affected the king more than everything else, and there appeared the following ordinance, dated November the 8th, 1723: "As we have been informed that Professor Wolf, in certain public writings and lectures, has set forth doctrines which are con trary to the religion revealed in God's Word, and as we are not in the least inclined to submit further to such conduct, we have resolved to remove him from his professorship, and not to permit him to teach any longer. We therefore wish by this writing to make our. purpose known, with the most gracious command that the aforesaid Professor Wolf shall not be further tolerated, nor allowed to teach. You will * Wuttke, p. 24. "Long live the old Prorector! Perish the new Lange I Laugh in his face! The old bum-brusher!" 124 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. therefore inform the aforesaid Wolf that he is required to leave HaUe and our country within forty-eight hours from the time of receiving this order, under the penalty of the halter!" This had not been expected even by the men who had sought the removal of Wolf. It made Lange very unhappy. For three days, as he himself confesses, he had neither sleep nor appetite. And we can easUy imagine how his conscience would struggle between theological zeal on the one side and natural feehng on the other; it was a conflict which does not easily arise after such a fashion in a healthy nature. The blow fell not on Wolf alone, but also on some of his asso ciates. Elsewhere, as well as in Halle, Wolfs enemies rejoiced. Loscher, of Dresden, formerly so earnest a foe of Pietism, now joined with its friends in the denunciation of the un fortunate philosopher. The philosopher's philosophy was con demned with himself. King Frederick WUliam I. prohibited the laity from reading atheistical books, among which WoU's were reckoned, under the penalty of labor on the fortifications; and professors were forbidden to lecture on the Wolfian phi losophy under a penalty of one hundred gold ducats. It is noteworthy that the Jesuits, so far from sharing this hostility to Wolf, allowed his books to pass the eccle siastical inspection without opposition, just as formerly they had taken Kepler under thefr protection against the perse cutions of the Protestants. Indeed, it was to a Jesuit1 that WoU was afterward indebted for his elevation to the dignity of a baron. After aU this ado, it were natural enough to conclude that Wolfs doctrines must have been in reality atheistical, or at least highly free-thinking and offensive; but whoever will take the trouble to look through his works wUl find in them, on the contrary, such views of faith as would seem too orthodox to many of the philosophers of the present day. 2 1 Father Stadler, confessor to Maximilian Joseph, the Regent Palgrave of the Rhine. 2 We need only cite his Refutation of Spinoza, and his Defence of the Miracles of the Bible. RETURN OF WOLF TO HALLE. 125 Besides, it is weU known that in later times the most orthodox theologians adopted the Wolfian system. This system was not precisely Christian, proceeding from the inner most, living spirit of Christianity; it was stiff, hard, and dry, and therefore but Uttle suited in form to awaken vital Chris tianity. Nor was it intended for this; but still it was neither atheistical nor unchristian. But even if it had been, accord ing to the Protestant idea neither the halter nor hard labor on the fortifications was the proper means for guarding against the evil. We will now show by an example how thoroughly WoU himself was devoted to the church, and how strict he was in religious matters. In 1707, soon after Wolf's caU to Halle and before the controversy broke out, an academical celebration took place, to which the professors were invited by a circular. Wolf answered over his own name : " Vidi, consentio. However, as I had purposed on that day to receive the Lord's Supper, I cannot say whether or not I shall be able to be present, as I would not hke to forego my purpose ; stUl, I will advise with my pastor." A man who would answer in this style now-a-days would most assuredly be set down for a Pietist. Upon his expulsion from Halle, he found an honorable po sition as auhc counselor and professor at Marburg; indeed, somewhat later, Frederick William I. repented his rashness in driving him out of his kingdom. Provost Reinbeck, whose earnest Christian spirit we had occasion to describe in the last lecture, interested himself in Wolf's behalf. Reinbeck had studied Wolfs system, and stood in friendly relations with him; he gradually brought the king to a better mind, so that he not only recommended the study of the Wolf ian philosophy to the students and theological candi dates, but also labored earnestly to win Wolf back again to the service of Prussia, and made him the most advanta geous offers. WoU, however, could not be persuaded; the threat of the halter still stuck in his memory. It was only when Frederick H. came to the throne, and the age of tolerance .broke over Prussia, that he accepted an invitation to return to Halle. On the 6th of December, 1740, he reen- 126 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. tered the place in triumph. "A great crowd of students," he teUs us, "had ridden out, attended by six postilions with trumpets, to conduct me in. In the neighboring viUages a great number of distinguished citizens awaited my approach. A crowd had gathered before the city and in it, in the streets and market-place, so that I made my entry amidst loud huzzas. There were trumpeters and drummers in the street where I stopped, before the house I had hired, who began to play as soon as the procession entered the street. The crowd was so great that I could scarcely alight from the carriage, and they so fiUed even the house that I could hardly make my way into a room. I made known my arrival that same evening to the leading men of the city, and to the professors, who favored me the next day with a visit, and bade me welcome. And as Dr. Lange also did me the honor to call on me, and to wish me aU good fortune, I demeaned myself toward him in the most friendly manner, and returned his visit hke that of the rest." Splendid as was Wolfs reception, his subsequent labors were not so great as they had been before. It must not be forgotten, however, that the flourishing period of the Pietism of HaUe was past. But it is not the less im portant on this account that we should direct special atten tion to the so-caUed Pietistic movement, which we have heretofore seen only imperfectly and in conflict with other movements. Only one more word in concluding this dis cussion. A century has passed since the return of Wolf to HaUe, since he and his opponent, Lange, somewhat coldly shook each other's hand in token of friendship; but stiU the old battle between speculation and faith claims our atten tion. Indeed, the hostility between a certain kind of philos ophy and a certain kind of piety is sterner now than it was then. But notwithstanding this hostility, we know a philos ophy and a piety which agree well together; and not only agree, but reciprocally qualify, promote, and complete each other. WhUe some sunder faith and reason, and allow only the pitiful choice between a faithless, feeble, unfeeling, and worldly wisdom and a misty or Ught-abhorring piety, the more PROGRESS OF PROTESTANTISM. 127 gUted and the more discreet of our times are striving for a recondliation between faith and reason, since they are seek ing to bring up the substance of faith to certain and clear knowledge, and are looking in turn to find the deeper root of reason in the ground of faith. Hence we rejoice in aU honest efforts whose object is to help those who make them, and others, over the gulf. We see in them a progress in genuine Protestantism, which always seeks at the same time for clearness of knowledge and depth of faith, and we hope that God wul add to the will the power both to succeed and to consummate. LECTURE vn. > PIETISM IN THE FORMER HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CEN TURY. — HYMN WRITERS: BENJAMIN SCHMOLCK, J. A. FREY- LINGHAUSEN, CH. F. RICHTER, C. A. BOGATZKY, G. TER- STEEGEN, E. G. WOLTERSDORF, AND THE ORPHAN-HOUSE AT BUNZLAU. — THE COTHEN HYMNS. The impression produced upon the mind by the last lecture was not of the most pleasant sort, since it left us standing in the midst of an antagonism which has reached to our own times, and for whose settlement many individuals have con sidered themselves called to labor. The Wolfian philosophy, which formerly made such a stir, has passed away like every human system, and to-day can count no disciples either among theologians or any other class. But still the Germans have not ceased to philosophize since the days of Christian WoU. One system has supplanted another, and with aU the changes of systems, the demand for philosophical knowledge has only extended further and further through Germany. It would be very unreasonable to wish to be ignorant of this whole his tory of modern philosophy; to regard it as a mere history of human errors ; or to consider is as a constantly and pro gressively developing history of unbeUef, and of defection from pure Christianity. It is easy enough to Ughten the labors of the controversy by such dogmatical and hasty judg ments, but the man who decides upon questions he does not understand or hurls his anathemas thoughtlessly, invites upon himself a heavy responsibility. But unfair as it would be to regard the whole development FALSE ESTIMATES OF PHILOSOPHY. 129 of modern philosophy as a mere hindrance to Christianity, it would be just as much so to attempt to make the history of the development of Christianity and of Protestantism in modern times dependent exclusively on the development of that philosophy. We must guard here against the common error of our day, of either overvaluing or undervaluing phi losophy. The latter error is the danger of the uneducated, who are but little accustomed to phUosophical thinking; the former is apt to be the error of those who boast of philo sophical culture, because they look down haughtily upon every thing which has developed itself in hfe independently of the course of the philosophy of the schools, and thus blindly overlook that great wealth of blessing which, in all periods, among the cultivated and the uncultivated, the philosophers and the unphflosophical, has been established by genuine, prac tical Christianity. And after all, it is not only the mathe matically laid-out highways, with their frequently hieroglyph- ical milestones and finger-boards that lead to the temple of the sun of truth; but God has provided roads of his own, over which he himseff leads men; some of whom he conducts over the green, flowery meadow-path to shady groves and fountains, and others even through heaths, marshes, and brambles, over precipitous cliffs, and along the brink of fear ful precipices. And the wanderings of these tried pilgrims have a pecuhar charm for the human heart which makes us foUow them with dehght, while the continual contemplation of the peaceful highway often wearies the eye. And it is with men thus wonderfuUy led, with the trials which proved them in their wanderings, with the songs which they sung on the rough but joyful way to their God and Savior, and with the blessings which they conferred and received, that we wish in the present lecture to become better ac quainted. And we shall here see the truth of a remark in the last lecture, namely: that the Ught continues to shine in the darkness, however the theories respecting the nature of the hght may change; and this is the Ught that lighteth every man, as it daily illumines and rejoices us in Jesus Christ. The systems of philosophers have changed as rai- 130 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ment has changed under the dictate of fashion; but Chris tianity, with its enhghtening, awakening, reforming and re straining power, has ever remained the same. It had been the aim of Pietism from the beginning to bring this practical Christianity home to the heart and hfe; and so long as it was true to this aim, and did not exchange the reaUty for something merely human, it could not faU of blessed results. The practical sphere is its true home, its appropriate sphere ; . and there it fulfilled its destiny in a period which was fiercely swept by many inward and outward storms. Although history had inflicted on the Pietism of Halle a se vere blow through Wolf, it was by no means destroyed. Halle remained afterward, as before, the university of Germany in that day which educated a larger number of, theologians than any other great school, and imprinted upon them the stamp of its own peculiar spirit. More than six thousand theologians had there received their complete education during the first twenty-nine years of the history of the university, and thousands besides had been brought up in the Orphan House founded by A. H. Francke.1 These noble institutions still flourished and continued to be a blessing in the further course of the century, and caUed into existence similar foun dations in a similar spirit. In 1712, the Canstein Bible EstabUshment was added to the rest. It was also of great importance, that, excepting what could be done by the Bible and preaching, the other helps to edification, such as books of devotion and hymns, in a word, the daUy spiritual food which was offered to Christian households, depended to a great extent, though not exlusively, on the labors of the Pietists. I only mention as exceptions, Loscher, who wrote hymns, though the enemy of the Pietists; the well-known Benjamin Schmolck, who adhered to the elder pious theolo gians of Lutheranism; and Arndt, Scriver, and Henry Miiller, all of whom stood in no near relation, so far as I know, to the Pietists of HaUe. But inasmuch as Schmolck's tend ency did not very widely differ from that of the Halle school, 1 See Guericke, Kirchengeschichte, Vol. II. p. 1075. SCHMOLCK, THE HYMN- WRITER. 131 but was rather a transition to it, I will speak first of him, and then particularly of those writers of devotional and edi fying books who united themselvesv more closely with the Pietistic school then Schmolck did. These books, taken together, formed a spiritual power, a compact counterpoise to the ever-progressing destructive tendency of the period; and in spite of all the outcry against Pietism, they were extensively circulated among Christians, in the soil of whose hearts they became rooted the more securely as the storm of the new iUuminism began to rage more fiercely in the tree-tops. Benjamin Schmolck1 was born on the 21st of December, 1672, in the Principality of Liegnitz; and like the philoso pher Wolf, but with different results, was devoted by his parents from his cradle to the service of God. As early as his fourth year, his education therefore took the direction which it was hoped would most certainly lead toward this end. The poverty of his parents, however, placed many difficulties in his path, which only benevolent institutions and moderate assistance from friendly hands enabled the boy and the young man to overcome. These trials gave to his trust in God a greater charm and a purer consecration. He suc ceeded in completing his theological studies in Leipzig; so that in 1701 he was able to render assistance to his aged father, and was soon afterwards called to higher clerical duties in the Silesian city of Schweidnitz. The labors of Schmolck in Silesia occurred at a time when the Jesuits were doing all in their power to disturb the Protestants, even in their pubhc religious services. But as for Schmolck, he remained unmolested. In connection with his official duties, which he discharged with the greatest conscientiousness, he indulged in writing poetry. In his earlier life he had devel oped a taste for it, and especially for hymn-writing, in which latter he soon exhibited great faciUty. Poesy to him was a trusted friend, a Ufe-companion, and a comforter in manifold griefs. He lost two of his children in the bloom of their youth; 1 Hoffmann von Fallersleben, Barth, Bmgwaldt und Benjamin, Schmolck. Breslau, 1833. 132 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. in 1730 he had a stroke of apoplexy, to which blindness was finally added as the mournful lot of his extreme old age. And yet under all these afflictions the godly old man could sing: "Deep in my heart I am content, I know I have my Savior's love; Let good or evil now be sent, I dwell in heavenly light above. Is trouble's quiver on me spent, My only word is, 'I'm content.' " But this -contentment in God can only have a genuine root when the soul has found its highest good in the love of God, and when the poet could sing: "Holy Love, that loved my soul, Ere its little life began, — Love, that nothing can withhold, Loving still a sinful man. All my heart and all my mind To Thy love forever bind!" Or: °I will suffer, I -will love; Jesus' love shall give me power; Suffering will at last remove, — Life is love's immortal dower. I will suffer, I will love, Jesus' love shall give me power." Though aU of the hymns of Schmolck (of which he composed more than a thousand) were not of equal value, and though we discover in some of them an inclination toward the trifling and vapid allegorizing of the Old Testament common in that day, these spots detected by the critic's eye are fuUy compensated for by the fullness of religious and poetic Ufe which expressed itself in his poems as a whole. I shaU only caU attention to one more: "Soul, thyself vex not! What God may allot Can not but be good; INFLUENCE OF THE HALLE POETS ON PROTESTANTISM. 133 Drive forth from thy breast Trouble and unrest; Take a braver mood! Is bread your daily sustenance? Do your tears your smiles outweigh? God will wipe those tears away." Schmolck died in 1737. He did not belong to the Pietists of his times, though he possessed a hearty piety in com mon with them, — a piety which in him showed itself more in the ecclesiastical form of orthodox Lutheranism, while in the Pietists it was more an inward experience, a life in God and in Christ proceeding from a struggle of penitence. "Herein," says Rambach, "lies the greatest value of the Halle poets: they represented prominently the peculiarly divine and won- drously stirring influence of Christianity on the human heart ; and they did this in a language which, being inspired by the peculiar living feeling of this influence, penetrated more deeply than mere poetic verbiage or rhyming reflections on this or that head of scholastic theology."1 We wiU now turn our attention to the poets who sprang from this school, and will only mention in passing, that, be sides John Caspar Schad and John Christian Lange, Joachim Lange, whom we have heretofore met as the controversial theologian of this party, was the author of several hymns. We have a morning-hymn of his which begins thus: "O Jesus, precious Light, The gloomy night is ended; The radiance of Thy grace Has on my soul descended! And now whate'er I am, i From slumber wholly free, Wrapt in a living flame, Itself lifts up to Thee! My God, what shall I bring To Thee; what off'ring tender? My being, with its powers, I joyfully surrender, — * Rambach's Anihologie, Vol. IV. Preface, p. 2. Vox.. L— 10 134 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. My body, spirit, soul; ' To-day each hour I live, I sacrifice the whole, And wish I'd more to give." But the poet who especially represents the type of the Halle school in his poems is John Anastasius Freylinghausen. 1 He was born in 1670, at Gandersheim, in WoHenbuttel. He re ceived from his mother a religious education; but at the Uni versity of Jena, or rather at Erfurt, whither he had made a visit from Jena, he obtained his first knowledge of the new life which Spener and Francke had kindled in the souls of so many young men of that period. The battle between this new tendency and the old orthodoxy had already broken out. Many pious souls were drawn into hostility to the new sect by the denunciatory preaching of the orthodox; and there was no lack of warning epistles even from the parents of Freylinghausen, " that he should give up intercourse with the suspected people, who carried their religion to extremes; he bad always been a pious and obedient child, and he certainly would not now, by disobedience, contemn his good fortune and expose himself to the loss of future advancement in his native country." But Freylinghausen did not allow himself to be drawn away from the path on which he had entered. And indeed, when his afflicted parents had sent an elder brother to Erfurt to get him away from that place, and the messenger returned with so vivid an impression of the piety prevailing there, they laid aside their prejudices, and even came themselves to be looked upon as Pietists by their old acquaint ances and relatives. They now had no objection to their son going to the Pietistic University of Halle, to which his beloved instructor, A. H. Francke, had been called. He now came into closer intimacy with Francke; he became his helper in the work of preaching; and his sermons made a great im- 1 See Knapp, Leben und Charakter einiger gelehrten und frommen Manner des vorigen Jahrhunderts. Halle, 1829. The physician of the Halle Orphan House, Christian Frederick Richter (f 1711), the inventor of the Essentia dulcis, also wrote a number of beautiful hymns, among others: "0 love, that hast the heavens rent!" FREYLINGHAUSEN, THE HALLE POET. 135 pression upon his hearers. "When he entered the pulpit," we are told, "it was as though an angel of God stood there." All this enthusiasm of the congregation, however, was soon converted into neglect when efforts began to be made to se cure for thei . favorite .preacher a permanent position. But the courage of the . Christian man was not impaired by this. "God," he assures us,if did not withhold his blessing from my labors, and although I; had neither salary nor perquisites, I was so well contented with my circumstances that I would willingly have endured them to the end." It was only in 1715, after he had labored at Halle without reward for twenty years, that his outward circumstances were improved; and at the age of forty-five he was married to Francke's daughter, at whose baptism he had acted the part of spon sor. His only son, Gottlieb Anastasius freylinghausen, followed in the footsteps of his father, and afterwards became one of the ornaments of the Halle school, as Professor of The ology. FreyUnghausen's great modesty was the special character istic which made him lovely. A stranger who had made his acquaintance compared him to a cask filled with exceUent wine, which was distinguished from an empty one by the fact that its contents were both large and exceUent, and yet gave forth no sound. With this modesty, which fre quently bordered on reserve, he united a large phUanthropy and charity, great faithfulness in his calling, and an uncon querable patience in suffering. His most beautiful hymns were composed during speUs of toothache, so that his friends were accustomed to rejoice at every successive attack of this painful ailment. But he also sang many beautiful and devout songs in his hours of undisturbed cheerfulness; and not only these, whose number was small, but the great collections which he compiled, became a blessing to the church. Frey Unghausen's collection, containing fifteen hundred hymns, the first part of which was pubhshed in 1704, embraced the fertile germs of similar compositions, both old and new. It was repubhshed again and again in a very short space 136 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of time, and here and there employed in public worship.1 In doctrine, Freylinghausen stuck close to the Scriptures; in merely outward matters he was entirely free from aU slavery to the letter. When the king, Frederick WiUiam I., pubUshed his order respecting candles and copes, of which we have already made mention, Freylinghausen remarked: "If my sovereign should command me to wear a red coat instead of a black one, and not at the same time forbid me to preach the gospel, I would see no reason for disobe dience." This was not servility. For we have already seen with what frankness he expressed his opinion concerning the. stag-hunt to the king at the hunting-seat at Wusterhausen, whither he had been invited by the sovereign himseU. The king respected him highly. With him, as with Francke, he stood in such relations as are implied in a personal cor respondence. Freylinghausen died in 1739, in the sixty-ninth year of his age. A number of his forty-four hymns are stiU in use among us. I mention the one beginning: "Who is like to Thee, Jesus, precious Rest?" Charles Henry von Bogatzky, as a hymn-writer and an ascetic author, secured many adherents. His Autobiography gives a view of the character of the prevailing Pietism, with its sharply defined and somewhat narrow and painful forms. 2 He was born on the 7th of September 1690, at Jankowe, an estate in Lower Silesia, just at the time when the Protestants of Silesia were suffering persecution. He was baptized in a Catholic church. The Bogatzky family came from Hungary, whence they had been driven by religious persecutions. The father, subsequently a lieutenant-colonel in the imperial army, followed a wandering military life; the education of the child 1 The Pietists, as a general thing, made themselves useful in the compilation of hymns. Porst's Hymn Book appeared about the same time in Berlin. The compiler, Dean John Porst (f 1728), was also a follower of Spener and Francke. 8 K. H. von Bogatzky's Lebenslauf. Halle, 1801. Comp. the Article by Dryander in Herzog's Beal-Ehcyclopadie. BOGATZKY, THE HYMN- WRITER. 137 was therefore left -entirely to the mother, who was born at Kalkreuth. StiU this maternal education was greatly interrupted by the rapidly changing events, and the chUd was frequently, put under the care of different relatives. But amid aU these changes, there was developed in him a love of God and a delight in secret prayer; as, indeed, the manifestation of an affectionate relation between God and the souls of children was a much more frequent phenomenon than it is at present. The writings of Arndt and Scriver had already planted the germ of this piety in the soul of the child, and nourished it in his youth. At one time, as he himself in forms us, while he was engaged in reading a sermon in Scriver's Treasury of the Soul, he was suddenly overwhelm ed with such an abounding spiritual joy that he fell on his knees, and with tears of delight praised the Lord and caUed on his name. "I was so happy," says he, "that I would have been wUhng, although so young, to remain shut up in my closet during life, provided I could frequently enjoy such seasons. A true Ught sprang up in my soul, and I then learned that genuine Christianity was something living, power ful, blessed, and altogether different from the world's notion of it. I then perceived the difference between mere moraUty or virtue and the gracious work of the Holy Spirit, or such divine virtues as are wrought in us by the Divine Spirit and flow from faith and from the joy of the Holy Ghost." At the age of fourteen he entered as a page the service of one of the smaller Saxon courts, the Duchy of Weisenfels, and was able to keep his pious soul unharmed amid the dissipations of court-Ufe. In a tedious illness, during which he read the Bible through, he resolved to have nothing to do with any thing contrary to the Bible, and armed himself in prayer against the conflicts which he was obliged to endure from the menials of the court. Even here he began to write his prayers in the form of hymns. At Easter, 1713, Bogatzky went to the University of Jena, where, as he relates, everything at that period went on wildly and dissolutely enough. The students' clubs being stUl in vogue, battles were of daily occurrence, and even the 138 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. better spirits were drawn into them. Even here prayer pro tected the pious youth against every temptation. Those who at first behaved most roughly concluded at length that they could in this way effect nothing, and so let him alone. Of the theologians of Jena, Buddeus, a man of great learning and piety, had much influence over him; and he also became acquainted gradually with awakened students and others who associated with the Pietists, to whom even persons ,of con siderable note belonged. He was soon drawn to HaUe, the real seat of this form of piety, that he might become better acquainted with it. The sermons of Francke which he heard there, and his writings which he eagerly read, strengthened his convictions, and led him finally, in the year 1715, to ex change the University of Jena for that of HaUe. Even here he had to pass through struggles and fierce trials, so that it became constantly clearer to him that he had not yet advanced beyond the alphabet of Christianity. In this frame of mind, which was strengthened by all his domestic ex periences, he resolved, after having studied law, to devote himself to the study of theology. To this work he beUeved himself divinely called. As might be supposed, he chose ex clusively such instructors as taught in the spirit of Francke ; and he attached himself with great .confidence to Freyling hausen, his pastor. He wished to know nothing of the modern philosophy, which he called speculative theology. He pitied those who gave themselves to its study, because, as he alleged, it led them to Socinianism and unbelief. He devoted himself all the more earnestly to practical theology. By the advice of Francke he kept a journal, in which he wrote down his experiences and inner struggles. He held a great many prayer-meetings with his friends; corresponded with persons of similar experience to his own; and continued .his work which afterwards became so famous, his Golden Treasury, a collection of Scripture texts for every day in the year, with verses of hymns and brief reflections added. Bo- gatzky's Treasury is to the present day a precious book in many a pious family; and if it is not according to the taste of the present times, it has still brought many a blessing to plain BOGATZKY'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 139 people. Though we cannot pronounce its entire contents good, we must adopt here as elsewhere the rule: "Prove all things; hold fast that which is good." Much of good wUl be found in it which is well worth holding fast. The pious associations in which Bogatzky passed his time, and which he kept up by much traveling, resulted, in 1826, in his finding a wife hi the person of a Miss von Trauwitz. In his married and household life there were many religious exercises; many a word of Scripture brought consolation; while prayer and faith made the most difficult things easy. It was especially upon such powerful and elevated faith as Luther had that the pious couple sought to establish them selves. "We old fools," says Luther somewhere, "eat with our children. For the sake of our children God gives us whatever is needful." Such words as these, and others like them, strengthened them in the conviction that their household was the household of God. What distinguished the Pietism of that day was that noble trust in God and in the power of prayer which laid the foundation of the Halle Orphan House and of many simUar institutions; which showed itself later in Stilling and in Lavater; and which philosophy cannot de monstrate, nor when once fully established in the heart and experience, can it reason away. "We must not," says Bogatzky, "take our God to be a king who wishes us to have only royal thoughts, and is willing to hear nothing but what is grand and exalted. Do not imagine that he would humiliate himself if he should notice what transpires in a poor fanuly or in the conscience of one of his miserable creatures. So, oh soul, let nothing be too small to be told to thy God and Savior! He will care for the least and the mean est thing that concerns thee; for it is no dishonor but rather a glory to him to be able and willing to look after every inter est, even the sUghtest, of his poor children. And it is so much the more consoling to see that he is interested in things ap parently trifling, and that nothmg is too small for his care and love, even as a mother does not regard the smallest ser vice which she can do for her child as trifling or contemptible." 1 1 Selbstbeschreibung, p. 162. 140 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH." Bogatzky derived strength not merely from the words and hymns of others, but like Schmolck and Freylinghausen, threw his inward experiences into the form of poems. He not only prayed a great deal in secret, but also frequently joined his wife in prayer; and he regarded such united prayer as a great blessing. He held in his own house a great many meetings for religious edification, which were attended by people of rank in the neighborhood who agreed with his religious views. Although he held no clerical office, but lived as a private man on his income, he frequently visited the sick, conversed with them respecting the state of their souls, sought to convince them of the need of repentance, and by means of this voluntary care of souls gathered a great many experiences which reacted upon his own inward state. His wife died in 1734; and in 1740 he went back to the court of Saal- feld, which was completely under the influence of Pietism. Sub sequently to 1746 he lived privately at Halle, after having sold his property for the benefit of the Orphan House at that place. Many of the three hundred and ninety-six hymns which he wrote are distinguished by a spirit of practical piety, but only a few by the movement of the verse. Some of them are little better than prose; others betray the bad taste of the times, which has spoiled the enjoyment of such hymns for so many readers. We must here read with discrimination. His devotional prose writings and brief verses accomplished much more than his longer hymns. Hence, instead of one of the latter, I shall quote a passage of prose which will furnish an important insight into Bogatzky's theological think ing, as also into that of the Pietistic school in general. "Every doctrine," he says, "will have its day. A merely legal storming and driving is not by any means the method of a faithful and wise instructor; indeed, a hurried and pre mature evangelization may easily do mischief and mislead thoughtless and excitable natures into false security. Many instructors insist earnestly and at once upon a special joy, and would not have the soul experience any particular anx iety; indeed, many are careful to repress all sorrow. And it were undoubtedly better for many persons to have anxious GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. 141 and broken hearts for a period at least, that by means of true grief the fleshly mind might be better known, attacked, and slain; also that the heart might become thoroughly eager for true divine consolation, and that such consolation might be hereafter rightly employed, and not allowed to degenerate into what is merely carnal. By the abuse of the law it is easy to hinder the effect of evangelical Christianity, and there fore to suffer injury. But the abuse of the gospel is more hurtful, for it produces false security, levity, and great U- centiousness, while the abuse of the law rather assails the flesh and puts the curb upon it." Gerhard Tersteegen, who was born on the 25th of Nov ember, 1697, at Moers, in Westphalia, is a poet who is usually reckoned among the Pietists, though it were perhaps more correct to place, him among the Mystics.1 His father, a merchant, died early. After Tersteegen had studied the ancient languages in his childhood he devoted himself to trade, and established himself at Muiheim on the Rhine, as a manufacturer of ribbons, where he led a life outwardly sor rowful, quiet, and secluded. But amid his outward and inward struggles he was developing a rich spiritual activity by means of meetings which he held, and which exercised an awakening influence in the whole mountain region. With all his poverty, he aided many of the poor, — for which charitable labors he preferred the hours of the evening, in order to be unknown. His reputation constantly extended, so that he soon received visits from every part of Germany, and from Holland, Switzer land, and England. He carried on an extensive correspond ence with many of the pious and awakened of the country. "From Amsterdam to Berne," says Stilling, "I meet with his followers among the people."2 The name by which he was known was Father Tersteegen, although he himself re- 1 Comp. the Biography prefixed to the Third Part of his Briefe Uber das inwendige Leben. Solingen, 1775; Stilling's Theobald, Vol. II. p. 102 ff.; Eerlen, G. Gerhard Tersteegen, der fromme Liederdichter und thatige Freimd der innern Mission. Muiheim on the Rhine, 1851; and Vols. II. and IV. of Koch's Geschichte des Kirchenliedes. 2 Theobald. Vol. II. p. 10 f. 142 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. fused this honorable title. Still he was indeed a father, for it seldom happened that an oppressed soul went away from him without comfort and strength. He prayed at the sick bed until midnight, and sometimes until morning, for his prayers appeared to many to be more effectual than their own. He finally exhausted his strength in such work. His body was often so weakened that he looked more like a dead than a Uving man. He remained patient even in his final sufferings. "A mother," he was in the habit of saying, " undresses her child before putting it to bed. And thus does God deal with me." He remained unmarried through life ; his death occurred on the 3rd of April, 1769. He was a friend of God and a true friend of man. We have from him a con siderable number of hymns (they are set down at one hundred and eleven), many of them being marked by depth and sim plicity. In what heart should not these words reecho at the end of the year:1 "Thus step by step we go To our eternal state; Thus all unnoticed flow The sands of human fate. When lingered e'en a day? When did a year delay? What is to mortals left Of perished yesterday?" The poet tells us elsewhere what is left, however, when he sings : "All-sufficient Being! Who to Thee is fleeing Finds treasure in Thy grace. Thou only givest joy, Deep but with no alloy; Thou art my dwelling-place; 1 Spiritual Flower Gai-den for Earnest Souls: or, short verses, reflections, and hymns on various truths of the inner Christian life ; for the ^wak ening, strengthening and refreshing of the life which is hid with Christ in God. (2nd Ed.) Frankfort and Leipzig, 1735. This "Flower Garden," in deed, was published at Muiheim in connection with the "Dowry," and was a traveling companion {vade mecum) of many. In Christian circles it was a common thing to close religious meetings with a hymn of Tersteegen. TERSTEEGEN'S HYMN. 143 With Thee I'm glad and free. Who on God reposes * Want's dark door-way closes. He to whom Thou'rt given Dwells, e'en here, in heaven, — He has whate'er he will. Who, in his soul's deep ground, Hath Thee his treasure found, Loves, and in peace is still. When Thou art in the heart Beauty soon drops her charm, And strength lets fall his arm. God of our every good, Our Rest in every mood, Our Comfort in each ill! We creatures ne'er possess Power the soul to bless. Me with Thy joy now filll Each earthly good I gain From joy in Thee doth take, And my sweet peace doth shake. Whate'er each man can name, In earth's or heaven's frame, Both now and always fails ; 'Tis Thou alone can'st vest With joy and life and rest,— No, nothing else avails. Of Thee if I'm possessed, Let soul and body pine, Still, no real grief is mine. Now with sweet bliss inspire, Thou Goal of my desire! Come now, Thyself make known; My thirst and hunger still, Depths of my longing fill, With Thy great self alone! Come, dwell close at my side! Then from earth's contact free, My bliss shall flow from Thee." Tersteegen also knew weU how to express the true feehng of public worship, as may be seen in the foUowing classical hymn: 1 44 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. "God is in this place; Let us lowly bow, And with reverence breathe our vow! God is here enthroned; Hu h'd be every thought, And the soul with worship fraughtl Speak His fame, Praise His name, , Fall humbly beiore Him, Profoundly adore Him!" Sometimes he succeeds well in an epigram, for example, at the conclusion of the first part of his Flower Garden: "Good reading is useful; good writing is good; Yet both are mere figures till in act understood; I pass by the figures, to the substance I tnrn; Do likewise, my reader, since for this we were born." Tersteegen did not remain wholly free from what is called fanaticism. He first found the path through this to a purer enjoyment of the inner world. His love for the Savior had taken a sensuous direction in his earlier years, which showed itself in macerating his own body. It was on Holy Thurs day, 1724, that Tersteegen consecrated himseU to his Heaven ly Friend, the Bridegroom of his Soul, and wrote the act of consecration with his own blood.1 " But," says Stilling, " how noble does this young man appear, with all his exaggerated enthusiasm, in comparison with the tribe of fophngs of our own times, who deny themselves no indulgence and roundly assert that men have no control over themselves.2 At a later period Tersteegen became more rational. In one place he confesses that sensuous emotions in religion must be regarded as at best a beautiful blossom, but never as the genuine fruit of piety.3 1 See Geistliche Briefe, Vol. I, Preface; and Kerlen, p. 53. 2 Theobald, Vol. II. p. 104. 8 Briefe, Vol. II. 3. p. 19. Tersteegen saw clearly enough that "the same thing is not suited equally to all." He wrote to a friend, among other things: "We wish to conduct the matter either according to the schools or according to our own peculiar views or special method, when the methods are almost as various as the faces of men." TERSTEEGEN S MYSTICAL SPIRIT. 145 These spiritual letters of Tersteegen breathe the same earnest spirit of Mysticism that we find in St. Francis of Sales, of the Catholic church, and in Madame Guyon and Fenelon. I will give you a single letter of his which he ad dressed to a friend on New Year's Night: "Yes, it is love that gave us the child Jesus, for he gave us himself, that is, essential love, — the heart and center of the love of God. In the heart of the child Jesus is disclosed the immeasurable sea and the infinite glow of the divine love; it is not locked and bolted in, but openly and freely offered. The love of God in aU the saints in heaven and on earth is nothing else than living sparks kindled at this great fire and proceeding from it. And oh, that our cold, dead hearts, tf they may not come in contact with it and be set on fire, may at least be somewhat warmed by it! . . . Down, then, to Bethlehem, the manger, seclusion, simplicity, lowliness, littleness, and poverty! Whoever becomes a child is sure to find this child, and with him all happiness. How widely different are God's ways from our ways! From the beginning, for thousands of years, God had comforted his people with the promise of a Destroyer of the serpent, a Savior, and a Friend. This great Prophet and Messiah was held forth in innumerable types, prophecies, and promises; everything pointed to him; all rested their hope on him; every man waited for him with painful longings. But what came of it all? A poor child was born quietly, in a poor and unthought of place. Well might poor human reason argue: Parturiunt montes. Thus is it still. Where are such glorious things as the divine power of faith, thorough deliverance from all sin, and com plete sanctification after the image of God, to be found and to be fulfilled? Answer: In a little child. 0, thou sweet childhood of Jesus! Be ours, with all thine attributes, and take from us our inordinate and selfish reason! Amen! Dear brother, let this be my New Year's wish for you! God grant that the time which may be allotted us may be better em ployed than the past year!"1 To FreyUnghausen, Bogatzky, and Tersteegen must be ad- 1 Vol. IV. Letter 134. 146 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ded Ernest Gottlieb Woltersdorf, who was born in 1725, at Friedrichsfeld, near BerUn, where his father, the head of a numerous family, was pastor.1 After attending the gymna sium at the Gray Convent in Berlin, Woltersdorf studied in Halle until 1744. He then undertook several small journeys through the country, when he became acquainted with a number of persons who were active in supporting and pro moting practical piety. The reverend Abbot Steinmetz, of Magdeburg, a patriarchal man, whom his own generation re garded as a great blessing, exercised a powerful influence over him. Woltersdorf glowed with anxious zeal to proclaim a living Christianity to such as did not understand the German tongue; and he therefore studied Wendish, to which his attention was called by a short stay in Niederlausitz. In 1748 he became preacher at Bunzlau, Silesia, where he labored with great fidelity, and interested himself especially in the neglected young people. "With the children," he wrote to a friend, "I hope we will yet be able to drive the devil out of Bunzlau. Amen, so let it be!" For the reali zation of these hopes he devoted himself to the founding of an orphan-house, after the pattern of that at Halle.2 A plain mason in Bunzlau, by the name of Zahn, who, an orphan, had wandered about in his youth until he was twenty-four years old, and at that age first learned to read, made the first movement toward it. This mason had carried on a little school in his own house, and with his own means, for nine years before he let his pastor know anything about it or sought his aid. Woltersdorf, zealous as he always was in a good thing, had many doubts at the start; but after he decided in favor of the enterprise, he was for it with soul and body. Zahn went to Berlin to soUcit the royal sanction. In reliance upon God, a beginning was made at once, and the corner-stone of the orphan-house was laid in 1755. The 1 E. G. Woltersdorf, Dargestellt aus seinem Leben und seinen Schriften (Special Reprint from the Bunzlau Christian Weekly. Volume for 1824). Bunzlau, 1824. 2 Das Waisenhaua zu Bunzlau in Schlesien geschichtlich dargestellt; 4 Parts. Breslau and Bunzlau, 1817—1819. CHARACTER OF WOLTERSDORF. 147 institution was commenced in bad times. The Seven Years' War, which broke out the year after the laying of the cor ner-stone, trampled down much of the good seed. A portion of the goods of the house was consumed by fire. Zahn, the superintendent, together with his successor and a number of children, was swept off by the plague; and even Woltersdorf himself was brought very low. However, he placed himself alone at the head of the enterprise, and, notwithstanding many sad experiences, found comfort in the progress of the work and in the loving sympathy which it met with here and there; although, on the other side, bitter complaint was not wanting. Even in his own family and in the church he met with opposition. Still, his courage did not fail; but his powers were exhausted, and his weary body sunk under its burden. He died, resigned and peaceful, in 1761, at the age of thirty-six. He left a widow and six young children. His character is thus given by a biographer: "His disposition was naturally earnest and grave, but sprightliness and cheer fulness were combined with his earnestness and gravity. His keen understanding was united with an exceedingly lively wit. Along with the most fervid imagination he possessed a thor ough and profound judgment, and these rare gtfts of nature were in his case sanctified and elevated by divine grace. He lived in the free grace of the gospel, as in his proper element. In this his heart was comforted and satisfied, even under the most trying circumstances of his life. Even his nearest friends heard from him but little complaint, although he was called to the endurance of much inward and outward suffer ing, and in the later years of his Ufe became the victim of oppressive poverty. His love to his God and Savior was pure and fervent. Lighted at this fire, his heart burned with longings to promote the welfare of all men, especially those committed to his care. He wore himself out for others. . . . In his conduct toward others he was considerate, frank, and affectionate, and tender toward his own family. 'Love,' said he, 'the love of Christ, must fill my whole heart, draw my mind toward my flock, shine forth from my eyes, and disclose itself in kindness and courtesy to all men. . . . Love con- 148 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. tinually brings me nearer to becoming, in a proper way, all things to all men. ... To the simple I become simple, to children a child, and to each according to his need. . . . I am a servant of all souls, and I am not called to be a- pope. My business is the Lord's, and my office is my God's. By God's grace I am what I am, and you should inwardly become His who speaks in me. I am great when I suffer, and little when I conquer, that I may not fall.'" In regard to his vocation as a hymn-writer, Woltersdorf expresses his conviction that he had received his hymns from the Lord. "It has often happened," he confesses, "when I was very far from thinking of making a verse, that my mind was suddenly stirred, and an impression communi cated to me that I must take up my pen. It was often like a fire in my heart, which forced me to sing a song to the Lord and to his people on some important subject. If I wished sometimes to write three verses, I soon had twelve or fifteen, or even thirty. In many cases* my pen could not follow the rapidly flowing verse. When I had written on continuously, I was often obliged to read it over in order to know what I had composed, and was surprised at what I really found on my page. Indeed, if I undertook to write a hymn of the ordinary length, the result was forty, fifty, a hundred, two hundred, and even more verses." The remarkable length of Woltersdorf's poems make them less suitable for congregational use. They are too long even for the purpose of public reading, and are best adapted for private devotion. Regarded as works of art, they are often wanting in the right movement and flow; in a word, in proper rounding and finish. To a great extent they are rhymed prose, which, in comparison with the poetry of Paul Gerhard or of Schmolck, is like a great plain, which is flat though fertile, by the side of a region of hills adorned with forests and meadows. Pietism was desti tute of taste for artistic form and mold, as also, the true spirit of critical, of philosophical inquiry. Its strong and often one-sided tendency to the practical was already satisfied with the devout Chi'istian contents of the hymn, without WOLTERSDORF ON THE POETRY OF HIS TIMES. 149 giving the needful attention to the form. "We have many hymns now-a-days," says Woltersdorf, "which are agreeable to many people because they seem to flow forth naturally from the heart. But try the spirits whether they be of God ; all is not gold that glitters; whatever does not agree with the Holy Scriptures is worthless, even though it flow into the heart sweetly and freely as honey." Woltersdorf was fond of comparing spiritual poetry in general with the secular poetry of the times. He complained of the more gifted poets of his day, as John Christian Gtother, for example, who with great talents became a moral wreck,1 that they looked upon the hymn as a small affair. 1 Born in 1695, and died in 1723. Besides his secular odes, Gunther wrote several hymns. In one of these he sings with great earnestness: "World, to me no longer bright, All thy favor I despise; Adam's sinful appetite On such joys may waste, its sighs, As in Sodom's dwellings reign Beaming fruits of shame and pain. Lord of truth, upon Thy words Rests my conscience, firm and free. What a home that place affords When each thing still speaks of Thee,— When Thy name, and light, and law, Each toward the cross must draw. 0 what longings of delight Stream on me from Zion's height! While the outer court I view, Faith its might doth quite renew, Leading hope, with joyful strains, Where the church triumphant reigns. Up, my soul, and look on high! Noblest pleasure there awaits, Such as neither ear nor eye, Nor the heart anticipates. This is Salem's peaceful place, Whence flow streams of life and grace. Vol. I.— ll 150 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. He thought that, after all, many an old village-pastor, many an old schoolmaster, or cobbler, or peasant, "who had written a few lame verses from his heart" might one day shine on Zion's Hill as the "Poet Laureate" in the presence of those who now look with contempt at their hymns. What is divine in the art of poetry must be acquired on the knees, in prayer ; then it is freely bestowed. For if the Spirit of all spirits does not inflame the poet's heart, his poetry cannot be called divine, though it may be the most sublime. From the moral and religious standpoint Woltersdorf was right; but it is true that a real hymn is only completed when the form cor responds with the matter, and both become one. Although Woltersdorf regarded his own poems as a divine gift, he was aware of their imperfections. "I should earnestly rejoice1," says he, "if, as a cooing dove, I could only incite the nu merous nightingales so to lift up their voices as to fill the sacred forests with their music, and I might creep away into concealment. " Woltersdorf, as also Bogatzky, belonged to the authors of the so-called Cothen Hymns, which received their name from the place of their publication.1 The tendency to broad, prosaic reflection in verse, which showed itseU in a lower These dear places let us seek, Pilgrims through this changing life; ^Should the path seem drear and bleak, Should the journey seem a strife, Steady then thy heart and gait By a glance at heaven's estate." Compare this with his erotic pieces, which run into obscenity, and even border on blasphemy, but nevertheless glow with real poetic fire; while the hymns are wholly languid, the work of mere reflection, and distinguished only by propriety. It is almost superfluous to remark that John Christian Gunther must not be confounded with the Christian poet, Cyriacus Giinther, (born 1650, died 1704), from whose pen we have several beautiful hymns. • Besides the Count of Cothen, those of Wernigerode, Ebersdorf, Schleiz, and Saalfeld were generally favorable to Pietism. It is remarkable that the "Friends of Light," of the nineteenth century, should have begun their nonsense at Cothen. THE C 5 THEN HYMNS. 151 degree in Bogatzky and Woltersdorf, was seen in a much higher degree in the majority of these hymns, which were at first circulated in little sheets, but afterwards accumulated to a large mass. According to a competent critic, however, these Cothen Hymns were nothing more than copies of the older Pietistic hymns, but very feeble, spiritless, and distorted copies, in which the best parts of the originals, namely, earnestness and fullness of thought, were wanting.1 And this Christian poesy, as it had been nourished and promoted by Pietism, had its period of bloom and its season of decline. Yet as one may stUl find a rose here and there in winter, so in the period of decline there stiU remained much that was delightful, of which Woltersdorf s most successful poems fur nish the best evidence.2 * Rambach, Aniliologie. Vol, IV. Preface, p. XIV. 2 Among these we number from Woltersdorf s collection (1827), No. 124, p. 248: "He who for me was crucified;" and the well known New Year's Hymn: "Another year has flown." (Appendix, No. 18, p. 476). LECTURE Via. THE PIETISM OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY IN GENERAL. — ASSMANN'S LIFE, BY E. M. ARNDT. — THE DARK SIDE OF PIETISM FROM SEMLER's LDFE. — DIFFERENT OPINIONS. — WILLIAM PETERSEN AND HIS WIFE. — THE PRAYING CHIL DREN IN SILESIA. — ROSENBACH, TENNHART, DAUTH, ROCK, AND OTHERS WHO CALLED THEMSELVES INSPIRED. — TUCH- FELDT. — THE ELLERITES, OR RONSDORF SECT. — THE BUTT- LAR FACTION. — HOCHMANN AND DD?PEL. — THE BERLEBURG BIBLE. — THE HYMNS OF THE INSPIRED. In the last lecture we lingered purposely among those men whom we regarded as leaders in the Pietistic movement in the best sense, nor have we spent an undue length of time upon them. You may go through many a church-history (as Schrockh's, for example) and many a history of culture and literature, almost without finding their names mentioned. But I regarded it as all the more appropriate to these lectures to afford you a glance at the peculiar Pietistic literature of the period, and I only regret that I could present you so little, because I felt it my duty not to be content with a general representation of the phenomena in question, but to furnish you with as living a view as possible. After all that has been said in regard to Pietism, we still find that it was a spiritual power which deeply penetrated the times, and hence it is not simply to be psychologically construed, but must also be historically conceived. And, indeed, if we place ourselves back in those times, as we became acquainted with them in the life of Frederick MORAL POWER OF PIETISM. 153 William I. ; if we reflect on the effeminacy and secularization of morals, as the French spirit of fashion penetrated more deeply the very marrow of the German people; if we bring home to ourselves the theater of the War of Succession and that of Silesia; if we take also a view of the trouble and suffering of the many families oppressed by the fortunes of war; if we look back on the deterioration of morals as it passed from the camp to civil life, from the peasant to the landlord; if I calmly ask what upheld the spirit of so many sufferers in the midst of all this, what withheld so many troubled hearts from sinking into despair, what protected domestic discipline and morality, and kept alive in the breast of many a stern warrior the noble flame of reverence for God and good wUl to man, as a glimmering taper, we wUl be compelled to confess that it was not the Wolfian or any other philosophy; that it was not the teachings of any school; that it was not the development of belles lettres and art, — from which, indeed, the common people have never drawn their Ufe, — but that it was the single, sublime, and moral might of Christianity; and that might was represented at the period in question mainly by Pietism. As certain medicines and modes of cure seem peculiarly appropriate at particular times, so it appeared now in the case of this particular form of Christianity. By means of the very stern ness of its hostility, it secured the adhesion of such as at first spurned or derided it. Minds to which the more moder ate philosophical theology had access, and to which learned reflections on God and divine things appeared tedious and foreign, were especially impressed, awakened, and converted through the agency of the spiritual life presented in such remarkable personages as Bogatzky and Tersteegen. The inner history of that period is rich in accounts of the conver sion of noble lords and ladies, court dignitaries, generals, soldiers, citizens, students, hunters, shepherds and peas ants, and if it is true that the ordinary histories which are filled with wars are silent concerning the victories which were achieved by Christianity over men's souls, there is nevertheless here and there a careful hand to. be seen under- 154 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. taking the labor of collecting the documents in this sacred cause of humanity. Thus, for example, Professor Ernest Moritz Arndt published in Bonn, in 1834, a life of an evan gelical preacher, Christian Gottfried Assmann, pastor at Hagen, in Anterior Pomerania, from which we may derive a view of the very comfortable state of the Pietistic school in the former half of the eighteenth century. Such a life, the author correctly says, is to us a practical commentary on what the pious school of Francke and Spener would Uke to have seen effected in doctrine and by teachers. "In my boyhood," he assures us himself, "I still saw old men of this school in homes and in pulpits; and the blessedness of a firm and invigorating faith, the cheerful and quiet sweet ness of a Ufe uncorrupted and unmolested by all the storms of time and by all the sufferings and wrongs from men, still stands as a lovely flower of memory before my eyes, that are even now admonished by locks growing grey to look down continually into the daily declining vale of my earthly pilgrimage." In this ltfe of Assmann, which one must read for himself, because a bare outline of it is very unsatisfactory, there is much which introduces us fully into the simple, chUd-like, and sometimes pecuhar life of the Pietism of that day. We read, for example, how young Assmann, when on a jour ney from Halle to Berlin, leaves the stage-coach to get rid of hearing any longer the ungodly conversation between a forest-keeper and a young woman, and then continues his journey on foot with a pious student, until at last a peasant compassionately takes the two pedestrians into his wagon; and how the students immediately succeed in drawing the peasant into their religious conversation, until they finally overtake their first society, which at last are now also converted. We further learn how the same man, when a preacher, is robbed by Cossacks, who restore to him their booty by a special providence. In these accounts we have at once a type of many thousands of similar ones, — which are now presented to us in the actual biographies of that period, and now in religious romances, — mostly of conversions THE DARK SIDE OF PIETISM. 155 or remarkable guidances and answers to prayer, accounts which even down to our day have furnished the material for a largely circulated tract literature. There is a certain de gree of uniformity in them. They resemble each other to a greater or less degree, and have not the piquancy and charm of memoirs and tales, in which even sin occasion ally has the right of making a jest; but they afford us clear and satisfactory views of the human heart in its anticipations, hopes, and conflicts, and at the same time of the secret workshops which God's Spirit has in such hearts. ¦ Meanwhile, we would not conceal the fact that this whole literature must be treated with great care and discrimination, and whUe we have heretofore given prominence to the bright side of Pietism, and have recognized its great histor ical importance, we must not now conceal its dark side any longer. Yet we must also here distinguish the real shade from the shadow which foreign bodies cast upon the painting, the real errors of Pietism from those with which it has often been unjustly charged. Both of these exist in its history. Pietism undoubtedly attached itself from the very outset to eertain narrow views which were more fully developed by its later adherents and imitators, and which always appeared in a grosser form without being outweighed, as with its founders, by nobler qualities. But there also came from without phenomena independent of Pietism in the strict sense, with which we became acquainted in the seven teenth century, — phenomena which were more connected with the spirit of false Mysticism and fanaticism, Anabaptist and sectarian movements, — from which true Pietism continually kept aloof, though very many were inclined to charge foreign errors to its account. We will speak first of the rising narrow views of real Pietism, as it proceeded from the school of Spener and Francke. We should not forget that it took from the outset a position of antagonism to a dead and callous orthodoxy, and arrayed itself against the dead mechanism of ecclesi astical orthodoxy; and so long as it did this, the life, and with the life the right, were on its side. But it was now very 156 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. easy for it to degenerate into a mere matter of form. Even the doctrines of the old theology of the schools had first borne in themselves a rich life, and were only gradually stupefied to a dead letter; and the same thing now occurred with the doctrines of Pietism. Certain favorite phrases and shibboleths; general and indispensable forms of speech which had to be appropriated from without; gestures and airs that one had to accustom himself to ; and even temptations and con flicts that could be artificially produced, were quite common a- mong the Pietists ; and, accordingly, that which could operate very beneficially in one place as the expression of filial faith was necessarily very repulsive to every healthy sense in another place, where the compulsion or even distortion was percep tible. And, indeed, just at that time of agitation there were people who knew how to attain their earthly objects in the best way by hanging out the signboard of the new piety; and though they were not exactly like gross hypo crites in hoping to satisfy the most sinful lusts under the cloak of piety, many of them nevertheless combined refined selfishness and a spiritually sensuous pleasure. We need only listen to what unprejudiced observers of that period have themselves related. I do not know whether you may count Semler among the latter or not. He may perhaps be regarded as a partizan, but the picture which he presents us in his Description of his Life, of the dark side of the Halle Pietism, is certainly not alto gether imaginary. " One account of one's own experience and edification," he says, "became the rule for others to say 'Yes' also. Many preachers introduced a great city- register on the condition of the soul, and those who had charge of the separate devotional meetings likewise brought in spiritual calendars of the same character, from which every one could repeat the condition of his soul during the whole of the previous week. For a great many people, this was a very safe way to commend them selves to all high and distinguished personages, for they could gain their domestic and civil ends most infallibly -by so utterly committing themselves to their spiritual direction SEMLER'S ACCOUNT OF HIS YOUTH. 157 that the pride, caprice, or the already known selfishness of the spiritual guide was perfectly satisfied. Those to whom this was a serious matter had much to contend with if they could not trace, as actively as was required of them, that condition of soul which it was supposed they should have, — the sense of sinfulness or deliverance." x Sem ler says, in his Account of his Youth, that his brother arose every night and went into the study adjoining their bedroom, where he knelt or lay upon the floor in prayer. "In his emotion," Semler continues, "he gradually lost his caution of speaking softly and gently, when his loud whining and moaning awoke me. I sought him, and though I could have but little hope of meeting with a favorable hearing, for I was a much less converted scholar, I nevertheless some times recited to him such beautiful lines and verses, some of which were Greek and Hebrew, that he often embraced me, and sighed, 'Oh, if that only applied to me!' Occasion ally I hastily replied, 'What a perversion of a man this is instead of a conversion! How impossible it is for this way to be right and true, in which one acts contrary to all of God's purposes, and makes of himself an absolutely useless and really repulsive creature!' 'Yes,' said he, 'that is just what I am, and I cannot yet perceive it clearly enough.' I spoke to my mother about it, who wept over the son who might now have been our support if he had not been corrupted by such false notions. My father dis approved of his conduct still more seriously, and expatiated so much on dogmatics and polemics that I very well under stood what he regarded these new regulations for the soul to be. Yet my father had to take great care, . for the whole court in Saalfeld were in favor of this very party.2 Many were undoubtedly well-meaning Christians, but there 1 LeSensleschreibung, Vol. I. p. 48 ff. 2 On Pietism in the smaller German courts, see Bartholdt, Baumer's histor. Taschenbuch, 1825; and comp. M. Gobel, Geschichte des christi. Lebens in der rteinisch-westphSMschen evangelischen Kirche, Vol. IL, Divi sions 2 and 3, especially the section on Sectarianism in the County of Wittgenstein. 158 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. were also undeniable idlers and well-known adventurers, who adopted these regulations and found in them a very com fortable way of Uving. People ran around in the forest both day and night, and worshiped by moonlight; they sang new songs with each other, and the duke, besides giving re freshment for the body, often gave up his large coach for their purpose; he even played the coachman himself, in order by this means to bestow public honor upon the pious wives of certain shoemakers. Instead of exaggerating the matter, I do not say all that might be said." Semler then censures the many religious pilgrimages, the frequent strolling through the country at the expense of otber people, and the effeminate luxuriance that took the place of the simple old German strictness of morals, and beside which, strictness and severity made a very sorry figure. Those who did not condescend to similar expressions and exercises were regarded as having no faith, for the old German virtue was contemptuously scorned as a mere work of nature. But this was not Sender's opinion alone; even men who were attach ed to the Pietistic party, or at least had many friends in it, sneered at the tone adopted by many whom they termed the " uncalled," just as if they were the "called," and thereby in jured the better reputation of the matter. We shall see here after how Zinzendorf, for example, regarded this class of Pietists. Likewise Stilling, in his Theobald, opposes chiefly the fanaticism dependent on Pietism proper, but yet with it the perversions of Pietism itself. Also a later writer, Dr. Tholuck, whom no one can charge with prejudice against the Pietists, makes at least the confession that the Pietism of the second generation, which is that which we are now speaking of, was wanting in proper strength and energy to take a worthy position toward the scientific and philosophical tendency advocated by Wolf and his adherents.1 People con fined themselves to anxious warnings and secret dissuasions. "A suppressed, shy, and painful nature," in Tholuck's own words, "was peculiar to many of the pious* and honorable men of that school;" therefore they always occupied an un- 1 Vermischle Schriften, Vol. II. p. 8. PETERSEN THE CHILIAST. 159 important position in science. But in the practical sphere, fanatical Mysticism, the companion of Pietism, planted itself at its side, as this Mysticism appeared in the so-called "In spired," and thereby hemmed in the labors of Pietism in proportion to the vigor and decision with which it appeared. There may serve us for our transition from real, genuine Pietism to false Mysticism a man who arose directly from the school of Spener, or at least leaned to the chief tendency of Spener's theology, but nevertheless pursued his own course, and was thereby seduced into a field where a wider scope, was afforded for his refining, fanatical imagination. This is John William Petersen, the chiliast, the greater part of whose Ufe faUs in the seventeenth century, but whose opin ions, as well as those of his wffe, first excited attention about the end of the seventeenth century, and particularly at the beginning of the eighteenth. Petersen has described his own Ufe for us. He was born at Osnabriick, in 1649, a year after the close of the Peace of Westphaha. He boasts of his mother that she was "a great woman in prayer," and accustomed him to pray at the very beginning of his training. On one occasion, when a boy, and he had no money to buy a book with, he went into St. Mary's Church, took a seat behind the altar, and prayed to God for money with which to buy the desired book. Having finished his prayer, behold, there lay a little pile of money on the bench where he had kneeled, which greatly strengthened his faith in God's an swers to prayer. "But," he frankly adds, "when I wished to make of this a method, and to get something else by prayer, I found nothing, which was in accordance with God's wise government, for he only hears us when we appear before him unselfishly, simply, and filially."1 Petersen had much to suffer at the hands of his schoolmates. " When I could recite my lessons perfectly, the other boys, who could not learn theirs as well, received blows on my account; by this means they became so embittered against me that they struck me when school was out, and once threw me heels over head 1 Lebensbeschreibung Johannis Wilhelmi Petersen, etc. (without place of publication, at the expense of a well-known friend), 1719. 2nd Ed. p. 7. 160 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. down what we used to call the " Gloomy Stairway." I thought that my neck would be broken, but yet I was preserved by God. Even though I had learned my lessons thoroughly, I was quite afraid to recite them, lest the other scholars should strike me. But I increased in industry and studiousness as I grew older, though I prided myself but little on that, al ways regarding others higher than myself, and keeping humble in heart." Such selections from the history of a man's youth are always indications for the further estimate of his life. Petersen soon made rapid progress in his studies, and could compose Latin verses with facihty, and publicly recite them. It must have had a very odd look when he once re cited the Song of Solomon from the platform, in a dialogue with one of his fellow-scholars, the one repeating the words of Christ and the other those of the Church, with the great applause "of the learned people, who, together with the Deputies of the Council, etc., represented all classes of society." He now attended the University of Giessen, made Spener's acquaintance in Frankfort, and from this time forth had profounder views of the nature of Christianity. His companions soon observed that a change had occurred in him, and began to deride him in consequence of it. But in spite of all, he continued "to confess the truth more gladly and insatiably." He visited his father at Liibeck, and was then appointed in quick succession Professor of Rhetoric at Rostock, Pastor of the Aegidien Church at Hanover, Super intendent at Liibeck, and finally, in 1688, Superintendent at Liineburg. Before he entered upon this last position he married Johanna Eleonore von Merlau, who became henceforth his unwearied helper, not only in the care of the household but also in his theological and theosophical efforts ; she shar ed all his views, or rather, as it seemed to both of them, was favored with the same illuminations and revelations that he was. The attention of Petersen and his wife was especially occupied with the Revelation of John, and with the fixing of the time when the millennium, which was to precede the second Petersen's chiliasm. 161 resurrection, would begin. But it was just these inquiries that caused him much vexation, and finally became the means of his losing his position. The expectation of a millennial kingdom on earth (chiliasm) had excited the attention of certain men from the earliest period of Christianity ; different things had been hoped for, taught, and prophesied at different times, and the more cautious and sober teachers in the church had invariably arrayed themselves against these imaginary subtleties, appealing to the words of our Lord himself, that God has confined to himself the day and the hour. But people had no right to brand such speculations as heresy. Yet the orthodox arrogated this right to themselves. Violent invectives were hurled from the pulpits at Petersen and his wffe, to the Uttle edification of the people, in whose ears the foreign word chiliasm had a very strange sound. One woman said that she did not know what crimes Saint Asm had committed that he should be treated so badly.1 But enough. Petersen was removed from his position in 1692, when he withdrew to private life, living first on his estate of Nieder- dodeleben, near Magdeburg, and then on Thymern, near Zerbst, where he yielded further to his dreams, and continued writing books until his death, which occurred in. 1727. Petersen, notwithstanding all his peculiar views, was a noble and pious man. We have some hymns from him also. He laid special stress upon the fate of the Jews, and used it in connection with his chiliastic hopes. Spener had already modestly given some hints in this respect, which Petersen now very unjustly elaborated into a formal system. Basing his arguments on passages in the Revelation of John, he as sumed a double resurrection, the first a bodily resurrection of aU beUevers who have died in the Lord, and a second resurrection to judgment at the end of the millennial king dom on earth. The latter begins immediately after the first resurrection. During this period the 'Israelites shall receive their kingdom again, return to Palestine, and all be converted to faith in Christ. Petersen combined with this doctrine of the millennium that of universal restoration, which had been 1 Lebensbeschreibung, p. 159. 162 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. presented by Origen, the Church Father,— the doctrine that evil and the kingdom of evil shall have their termination, and consequently the time shall come when the effect of evil, hell, and damnation, shall cease, and when even the devil shall be converted. Petersen tells us how he came to this view. He first became acquainted with 4t in the writings of Jane Leade, an English fanatic, and rejected it at first view as a doctrine opposed to the Scriptures. x But as he and his wtfe set themselves to work to refute the doctrine, it seemed to them as tf some one interrupted them and stopped their pen, when the passage in John's Revelation (ch. xxi. 5) occurred to them, "Behold, I make all things new," and then another passage in Revelation (ch. v. 13, 14), that "every creature which is in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth" (in cluding also those in hell) praised God. From this time Pe tersen and his wife regarded the doctrine of universal res toration as revealed by God himself, and they sought to inter pret in its favor those passages which opposed it, as, for example, the one that "their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." But just this doctrine, which limited the eternity of punishment in hell, was detested by many as a very dangerous one, while Petersen, in his turn, asserted that through it many who had been prejudiced against Chris tianity were now induced to embrace it. Thus a prominent gentleman from Berlin assured him, that while he formerly heard preachers continually boasting of God's mercy and yet teaching eternal damnation with it, he had never been able to reconcile the two, and this difficulty had shaken his faith in the Scriptures; but now, having become clear on the doc trine of restoration, he had found peace for his soul, and the Scriptures again became dear to him. The doctrine is 1 Lebensbeschreibung, p. 298 f. On this fanatic, see my Vorlesungen, Pt.IV. p. 332 f. (2nd Ed.) — [Jane Leade was born in the county of Norfolk, England, in 1623, and died' in London, 1704, the widow of a rich mer chant. She was the fruitful center and starting-point for Jacob Boehme's followers in England, who had striven since 1695 to make a "Phila- delphian Society" of all the churches and sects, an organization which very soon spread from England to Holland and Germany. See G6- bel's Art. on Jane Leade in Herzog's Beal-Encycl. — J. F. H.l THE INSPIRED CHILDREN OF SILESIA. 163 at least a credit to Petersen's good heart, however impossible it be to prove its Scriptural character; for, while the Scriptures do not purposely lay down an elaborate 'argument in proof of such points, and would not provoke discussions upon them, they do not conceal the serious character of God's judgments, and would not weaken the fear of them by sanguine hopes. To Petersen's adoption of . a millennium and a universal restoration there was added a third, his faith in the contin uation of supernatural inspiration, to which he surrendered himself with great confidence. A Miss Rosamunda Juliana von Asseburg, born in Magdeburg, 1672, professed, after her seventh year, to see miraculous visions, especially during prayer, and to experience extraordinary divine revelations. Petersen was acquainted with her after 1691. He boasts that his house had been blessed by her presence as the house of Obed-Edom. He then busied himself with the matter, and composed a work in favor of the lady, in which he sought to establish the divine character of her revelations against all doubt. Those revelations have disappeared long ago, and no one speaks of her any more than of the thousand others of all periods who had been deceived, and who were proclaimed at this time by the so-called Inspired. But Miss Asseburg did not stand alone at that time. People of different classes, conditions, and ages, appeared as prophets at the beginning of the eighteenth century. We have already spoken of the Camisards. A similar sect arose in Germany. In Silesia there was a whole church of Inspired Children. These httle folks, who prayed and preached, built a little church for themselves, which they ornamented with pictures and hung with bells made of glass, with which they called together their congregation, and preached to them and prayed for them, through the alleged inspiration of the Spirit, so that even miracles were ascribed to their prayers.1 The move ment began at Sprottau, a city in the principahty of Glogau, and it gradually spread from that point over Lower SUesia. Hundreds of children, ranging from four to fourteen years of age, were often seen to come together in an open space of 1 Lebensbeschreibung, p. 318 ff. 164- HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the city or village, twice or three times a day, before and after their school-hours, and after they had ranged them selves in a circle they were seen to fall down and raise their hands toward heaven. One of the number set a tune, when the whole congregation immediately united, and after this a prayer was read that applied to the necessity of the times. (Silesia had not yet recovered from the pressure under which the country groaned during the religious per secutions). Then a chapter from the Bible was read, and the meeting closed with a hymn. Efforts were made in vain to restrain this movement. The meetings could not be disbanded by violence. Children placed in confinement would jump out of the window or break through into the next room, in full confidence that God would preserve them from injury by his angels. "Once," Petersen re lates, "some oxen came running from .the field into a village, and everybody got out of their way with the ex ception of the children, who kept in perfect order and continued to pray, when the oxen turned aside from them." The phenomenon was interpreted in diverse ways, some regarding it as a sign from heaven, while others looked on it as a hobgoblin from hell. The affair was treated seriously in the pulpits, and many learned and unlearned people discussed its merits, until, even this phenomenon, hke so many others, subsided of itself.1 A peculiar spirit of supposed prophecy pervaded also the lower classes. John George Rosenbach, a journeyman-spur- maker, appeared as a prophet in Heilbronn at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and John Tennhart, a wig-maker of Nuremberg, bombastically called himself God's chancery- clerk. Maximilian Dauth, a journeyman-shoemaker of Frank fort on the Main, pubhshed in 1710, by divine command ment, his Thunder-Trumpet, and prophesied the downfall of the whole German kingdom. John Trautwein, an inn keeper of Stuttgart, had dreams and revelations of the New 1 Comp. on this subject my Essay: Der Kinderkreuzzug zu Anfang des 13. Jahrhunderts und die betenden Kinder zu Anfang des 18. Jahr hunderts, in the Christoterpe, 1853. THE ELLERITES AND BUTTLARITES. 165j Jerusalem.1 John Frederick Rock, the court-saddler of Marienborn, placed himself at the head of the Inspired in Bii- dingen, a Hessian town of the Wetterau, and delivered power ful lectures through the alleged influence of the Spirit, mostly in the tone of the prophets of the Old Testament. He united for a time with Zinzendorf, who soon gave him up as a man devoid of moral firmness. Preachers here and there allowed themselves to be drawn into the vortex of fanaticism. Thus Christopher Tuchfeldt, a preacher of Magdeburg, who was led by the pretended inspiration of his two servant-girls to defy the temporal and spiritual authorities, rejected baptism, repentance, and the Lord's Supper, was driven from his position, wandered around as a vagrant evangelist, and caused great disturbance. But the matter did not continue to be a mere folly; it developed into gross immorality and blasphemy. One Elias EUer, who was a ribbon-weaver and the burgomaster of Ronsdorf, declared himself to be the Lord Jesus Christ, and that his wife was the Lamb's wife, the mother of Zion in the Revelation of John. The so-called EUer or Ronsdor, Sect established by him, as well as the Buttlar Company, which was so named somewhat earUer in Wittgenstein from an Eva von Buttlar, surrendered themselves to the basest life and the most shameful exesses, as Stilling has faithfully portrayed them in his Theobald, but as we have not the space here to follow out at length.2 All this was very frequently laid at the door of the Pie tists, and even many of their opponents twitted them alto gether too willingly for these excesses, in order to bring into suspicion Christian zeal, which was on other grounds so very 1 See Gruneisen, in Hlgen's Histor. theol. Zeitschrift, 1841. Vol. I. p. 79. 2 Eva von Buttlar conceived, among other things, the blasphemous thought of representing the Holy Trinity by her spiritual paramour, Winter von Eschwege, and one Appenfeller, in which Winter (the little Papa) represented the Father, Appenfeller the Son, and Mother Eva the Holy Ghost. On this outrageous madness, comp. F. W. Kmg, Ge schichte der protestantisch-religib'sen Schwltrmerei, Sectirerei und der ge- sammten un- und widerkirchlichen Neuerungen im Grossherzogthum Berg, hesonders im Wupperlhale. Elberfeld, 1851.; and Gobel, p. 778 ff. Vol. I.— 12 166 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. imcomfortable to them. But, on the other hand, those who were persecuted found all the greater support among the masses. "The populace who were of Christian disposition," Stilling affirms in his Theobald, "saw a great resemblance between those who were persecuted and Christ, while they compared the persecutors with the Scribes and Pharisees. But they were sometimes right on the latter point. The as tounding laziness and sluggishness of the clergy, their igno rance of, and unfitness for,J;he care of souls, together with their unbending love of power, were more the fault of fanati cism than of the fanatics themselves. .... Tennhart and Rosenbach were not persecuted because they were false teachers, but because they invaded the office of the clergy, and because it became so degraded by wicked and low people. This necessarily stirred up the heart of the common man, who increased in skepticism while his pastor remained far behind him; and thus the most simple-minded portion of the people gradually took ground against the clergy, and the foundation was laid for fanaticism and skepticism."1 Stilling, in his History of his Youth, has represented in the person of Pastor Stollbein such a rustic clergyman, who was only very zealous against the sects because he himself could not give the people any real nourishment.2 Meanwhile, many worthy clergymen lifted their warning voice against the mischief of fanaticism and the abominable disorder which some sects pro duced, and the authorities could do nothing less than serious ly interfere. Blunders could not always be guarded against, and thus some were blamed for being too severe, and others for being too mild, just as is the case at the present day. But, on the whole, the more rigorously inclined the tem poral and spiritual authorities were, the more remarkable were individual exceptions in this respect. Of the temporal rulers of that day, Count Casimir of Wittgenstein-Berleburg opened his small territory as an asylum to all who were perse cuted for their religion, by which means Berleburg and the 1 Theobald, p. 29. " He was accustomed to say: "Every sow should go to her trough, and so should every member of the church keep to his pastor." HOCHMANN'S LIFE AND OPINIONS. 167 whole surrounding country became a gathering place for the most diverse minds, who frequently came in conflict with each other, and labored to smother one form of fanaticism by another. Of this number, two very opposite characters, Er nest Christopher Hochmann and John Conrad Dippel, distin guished themselves. The former, Hochmann, born in 1670 at Hochenau, Lauenburg, traveled through nearly all Germany, and boldly attacked the extreme lukewarmess of the clergy. He went into the churches during pubhc service, and after the sermon was finished, went into the pulpit and began to preach, or even interrupted the preacher during his discourse. He also conducted devotional services in the houses, which were largely attended. He was a man of rare gifts, and was inspired by a sincere and resigned type of piety, which brought many hearts to his side; and though he was not free from vanity and passion at the outset, he yet subsequently rid him self of these infirmities to a large extent, so that he is pro perly numbered among the nobler characters in the history of Mysticism. In his theological views he united chiefly with Jacob Boehme, Weigel, Gichtel, and other Mystics. While he did not attack the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, he yet rejected infant baptism, and held that the Lord's Supper should have been celebrated by only the chosen Dis ciples of Christ. He insisted on a complete separation of church and state. The church in its existing condition ap peared to him as a Babylon ; he also had peculiar opinions on matrimony. To marry, in the name of the Triune God, people who inwardly stand far aloof from Christianity, was severely censured by him, and he called it "a profanation of God's name." He declared in favor of the civil marriage of people who are not Christians; but though he went further in com mending the so-called "virgin-marriage," he also went very far with his ascetic notions.1 Among other peculiarities was 1 "I regard it better for high authorities, in order to avoid the profanation of God's name, to have such persons appear only before their courts, and be registered there, so that there would be only an external order relating to the training and inheritance of children, as is customary in Holland." — A proof that civil marriage was not intro duced first with the French Revolution, as has been asserted. 168 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. his imitating Christ in once trying to fast forty days in suc cession. The ill-treatment which he met with in abundance was borne by him with patience, and even with a certain degree of humor; for he was so accustomed to suffer "a back fill of blows for Jesus' sake" that he made no more ado about the matter. After he had been driven from different places, and had been thrust into prisons here and there, he at last found a resting-place at Muiheim on the Ruhr, near Duis- burg. He received an enormous number of adherents in Berg. "An old Pietist related to me," says Stilling, "that Hochmann once preached on the great meadow below Elberfeld, called the Ox Comb, with so much power and eloquence that his many hundreds of hearers fully beUeved themselves raised to the clouds, and that they had no other thought than that the morning of eternity had really dawned." But the time came when Hochmann could no longer remain even in Berg, and it was in the Berleburg village of Schwarz- enau that he enjoyed his last rest before death, which occurred in, the second decade of the century. Tersteegen, with whom he had become weU acquainted in Muiheim, in scribed the foUowing epitaph upon his tombstone: "How high is now the man, who, when a child, Possessed a heart all full of faith and love! He fought and suffered for his Master's realm, Then laid aside his bonds and soared above." * Conrad Dippel, a man of quite a different character from Hochmann, is one whom we may doubt whether to assign a place among the Pietists or Rationalists, fanatics or scoffers, Mystics or Illuminists.2 Superstition and unbeUef, •Comp. Theobald, Vol. I. p. 38; and Gobel, p. 209 ff. 2 On Dippel, we have made use of his own Biography: Personalia, oder kurzgefiihrter Lebenslauf des gestorbenen und dock lebenden Christiani Dem- ocriti., wobei dessen Fata chymica offenherzig communiciret werden (without place and date of publication); Leben und Meinungen J. C. Dvppels, by Hans Wilhelm Hofmann. Darmstadt, 1783; Adelung, Geschichte dermensch- lichen Narrheit, Vol. I. p. 315.— I have not had at hand Ackermann's and Strieder's works on him. — The hymn which we give is in Knapp's Liederschatz, No. 202. dippel's youth. 169 frivoUty and despair, madness and originaUty, contended in his soul for possession; and amid them there scintillated so many sparks of better knowledge, and there was evinced such a longing after truth and peace, as is expressed in the fol lowing poem, which he composed during the later period of his life: "Oh Jesus, look, and give me oonquering arms! My spirit sinks; I'm touched by Death's cold dart; The will I have, but not the power to do, Because all strength has left my weary heart. Sin has ensnared, and Death has captured me; Go where I will, my longing gets no rest. I fondly thought 'How high I stand,' but now, Low in the dust, my fame is but a jest. The peace I seek flees ever from my grasp; No arm lifts from my heart its heavy weight; The law discloses all my grievous sins, But has no strength to open Heaven's gate. 'Jesus, Thou alone my grief can'st end; There is no power that Thou do'st not confer; If Thou giv'st not the strength for a new life, My deepest longing is but empty fear. Then pity, Lord! Before Thy feet I lie! May my weak heart o'erflow with merey's streams! I wait, I weep, I leave Thee not till Thou, Though death once ruled, shed'st life's bright beams." John Conrad Dippel was born, 1673, at the Hessian Castle of Frankenstein, an hour's walk from Darmstadt. His father, a preacher, had fled thither in time of war. Dippel is said to have given but slight exhibition of intellectual endowment during his early youth, but suddenly, as though illuminated by a miracle, to have been transformed to a real genius. Even in his ninth year he expressed strong doubts in reference to the catechism. After laying the foundation for his knowledge and vanity at the High-School in Darmstadt, he went to the University of Giessen, though not yet sixteen years of age, where he studied theology, medicine, and jurisprudence promis- 170 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. cuously, for he regarded himseU as a universal genius, and was strengthened in this opinion by the inopportune praise of his instructors and fellow-students. It was just at this time that the controversy between the orthodox and Pietists raged most violently, and Dippel felt himself called to engage in the conflict. At first he took sides with the orthodox, and sought to prove his orthodoxy by the fact that, in direct contradiction of the Pietists, he led a rough and wfld lUe as a student. "I frequented," he relates himseU, "the services of the Pietists in spite of my shameful associa tions, fighting, and leaping; and, in a word, I showed in every way that I desired to remain a true Lutheran, and not to be suspected of any heresy by a retired Ufe." His conscience tortured him meanwhile with severe charges, and he confesses "how he had tried at night, by prayer and singing, to redeem from heaven what he had sinned by day." He continued to play the orthodox believer outwardly, but Pietism had inwardly acquired a gloomy sway over him, though he was ashamed to confess this fact before anybody. He acknowledges, that when surprised in prayer he was more ashamed than if he had been caught in the greatest crime. His propensity for what was odd was exhibited in 1693, on his reception of the degree of Master of Arts, when he chose as the subject of his disputation: "The No thing." The disputation led, in fact, to nothing, — at least to no professorship in Giessen, which he had wished. He now tried his fortune in Wittenberg, where he believed that he would be received with open arms as a vigorous champion for Lutheranism. But the reception he met with from the theologians was cold. Being irritated by it, he went to Strasburg, where Pietism had its quiet adherents ever since Spener's day, but he there found far more open opponents. Here he hoped to become a champion for the Pietists, and at the same time to make for himself a name by his lectures on the secret arts of astrology and chiromancy. He also preached sometimes, and not without applause, but at the same time scuffled with the students as a real bully, piled debt upon debt, and was finally compelled to escape the DIPPEL S VAGARIES. 171 devices of the police for his capture by flight. In Neustadt, in the Hardt Mountains, he left behind with the innkeeper, as a pawn, the manuscript of his controversial work against the Pietists; and in the same manner he pawned in Worms the ring given him on his reception of the Master's degree, and afterward wandered about as an adventurer. We will not attempt to decide whether his conduct was calculating hypocrisy, as Adelung imagines, or whether (as he himself assures us) he "felt God's arrows in himself, and necessity drove him to prayer;" yet we are perfectly willing to be Ueve the latter. From this time forth he ever became more immersed in the religious Mysticism which he, like Par acelsus before him, brought into connection with alchemy. He now directed his attention against the orthodox, a party which he had previously led, but without therefore connecting himself with the Pietists. His notorious work, The Scourged Papacy of Protestants, appeared in 1698, the assumed name of the author being Christianus Democritus. In this work he attacked with sharp weapons the ortho dox view of the doctrine of justification, to which also the Pietists were greatly attached. The whole tone of the work was scornful and haughty, and therefore damaging to both the Pietists and the orthodox. He was now perse cuted by both parties, tolerated by no authorities, and least of all was he appointed to any position. His life was restless and wandering. In order to support himself he directed. his attention to the practice of medicine, and composed' works on the subject, while he was favored with only scanty support by a few sympathizing friends. He finally bent his. attention to the manufacture of gold. But this hurled him. into utter disaster. In hope of manufacturing gold, he bought a manorial estate in the neighborhood of Giessen for fifty thousand guldens, but just as he thought he had invented the tincture, the glass broke, and there was nothing left him but flight from his creditors. He went to Berlin in 1704. There he continued his efforts to manufacture gold. and, by a happy accident, discovered the famous Berlin Blue, and the animal oil which bears his name (Oleum 172 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Dippeli).1 But here, too, he became involved in all manner of compUcations, so that he was imprisoned in 1707. He es caped, however, and fled to Holland. In Amsterdam he man aged to receive formally, in 1711, the degree of Doctor of Medicine; but, because of his disorderly life, had to flee from Holland, when he went to Altona. Unwise expressions against the King of Denmark again threw him into impris onment. He was brought in chains to the island of Born- holm, and although be should have remained as long as he lived, he was released again in 1726 at the request of the queen. In January, 1727, be came to Stockholm, where he found a very honorable reception at the court, and even had the prospect of becoming bishop of the state- church. But here, too, he ruined himself with the Swedish clergy by his theological principles. He now wandered about in different places, and it was said that he was dead, when he declared in a work that "he was still living, and would live until the year of 1808." But his prophecy failed. He died suddenly, on the 25th of April, 1734!, at the Castle of Wittgenstein, whither he had finally retired. It is difficult to present an exact view of Dippel's prin ciples, yet we shall not be far astray if we place him with those who, like Paracelsus, Jacob Boehme, Gichtel and others of their class, opposed what was ecclesiastically strong and rigid by a restless movement, and the letter of the Scriptures by the revelation of the Spirit. But under the seductive term of the revelation of the Spirit they fre quently opposed the plain word of God by their own obscure human words. We cannot say of a certainty that Dippel was wrong in all respects. Like the earlier Mystics, Weigel, Paracelsus, and Boehme, he was correct in directing attention to the fact that the essence of Christianity consists not alone in the written letter, and in appealing to Luther's words on the subject.2 Luther had already said that it was hot the manner of the New Testament to write books, but that men 1 These inventions were used by others to his injury. See Adelung, ,p. 333 ff. 3 See Dippel's LuUierus ante Lutheranismum, p. 17. DIPPEL'S OPINIONS. 173 should be converted by the preaching of the Gospel even without books; the New Testament should be a living word for us, and not a mere writing; the Old Testament was com posed in books as a dead letter, but the Gospel should be a living voice. "The Spirit cannot be comprehended in any letter, cannot be written with ink, on stone or in books, as the law may be comprehended, but is only written in the heart, and is a living writing of the Holy Spirit." These words of Luther had undoubtedly been forgotten in later times, and it was a good work to recall them to memory; for it had been too often the case that Protestants, in the heat of their conflict with the Catholics, had, with a partizan spirit, appealed to the Scriptures, as a mere writing instead of regarding them as a witness of the Divine Spirit from the first period of Christianity. How often did the Bible seem to theologians of that day as a walled reservoir of stagnant water, instead of being a living fountain from which new and fresh water always bubbles; and it was Mysticism which touched at different times with its wand the element that was fast becoming a swamp, and again set it in motion. Dippel also did this. If we charge the Catholics, he affirmed, with worshiping in their crucifixes a wooden God, it is an easy thing to charge us Protestants with having a paper God. The true word of God is undoubtedly contained in the Scriptures; but it existed from eternity, before any Scriptures. But Dippel went too far, with most Mystics and fanatics, in not seeking with proper faithfulness, humility, and impartiality, the vital principle laid down in the Scriptures ; and instead of burying himself with the bee in the calix of the flower in order to draw out the honey, he only fluttered around the light like a moth, and burnt his wings in it. He erred in frequently overstepping the wholesome rule which the Scriptures always give, and in imagining that he was converted by the Divine Spirit when the spirit of imagination and pride spoke from him. Thus he opposed the pride of the Scribes of his day by his own fanatical pride, or one kind of pride by another, which, in its effects on the church, was still more dangerous 174 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. than the former, as a furious torrent is far more devastating than a swampy pool. It is only when the original and ever youthful spirit of Christianity is laid hold of clearly and safe ly from the written words of Scripture, and is elaborated to clear thought by aid of it, that the victory of the spirit over the letter becomes possible. Then and there It shall and will take place. As Dippel directed his efforts against the dead conception of the Protestant principle of the Scriptures, so did he lift his voice against the usual view of the doctrine of justification. The notion of God's wrath, which must be appeased by an offering, appeared to him far too human, and quite unbe coming the nature. of God. God did not have to become reconciled with us, but we with God. In the death of Jesus we see rather an act of God's love toward man, and not a necessary result of his wrath. It is only when we receive Christ himseU in us that we can profit by his merit; for the physician cannot aid his patient by swallowing bitter medicine; the patient must take it himself. Christ in us is also the right Christ for us, etc. And here he pronounced a vital view, and xme quite free from the tradition of dead ordinances. But this Christ in us (as the Mystics called him) could be very easily volatilized into a mere ideal of the human spirit, in which the historical fact, whereon all the inward life of the individual Christian rests as the impregnable rock of salvation, receded too much into the shade, and redemption by Christ was transformed into a redemption by ourselves,— a process which subsequently became apparent in the purely speculative and mythical view. Both that which is historically given outwardly and that which is inwardly developed from the historical ground must be grasped with the same heartiness of faith and be asserted with the same emphasis. Historical and ideal Chris tianity should never be regarded as two different objects which exclude each other, but should be construed only as the two sides of one true Christianity. But when one side appears too prominent, it is always good that the other assert itself; and thus Dippel was in a measure justified in his contra- THE BERLEBURG BIBLE. 175 diction. His great error was in connecting the spiritual view with an unmistakably pantheistic view of the universe, which he shared with many Mystics, by which God is the soul of the world and the world is God's body. He imagined the Divine Being to be surrounded by a matter of light and fire, in which ¦ Ues the seed of the whole material world. All created spirits are parts and sparks of that light-matter, from which the surrounding airy and sethereal bodies move. What the physicists regard as the forces of nature are to him so many natural spirits, which are the effluences of the Infinite World-Spirit, to whom all again return in an eternal circle. He, as well as his predecessors, connected alchemy with this spiritual nature, as he assumed in all the three kingdoms of nature a secret gold-seed, for which the proper metallic food must be prepared in order to get gold itseU from it. This art requires, if not a thoroughly new-born and holy man, at least one of understanding, penetration, and patience ; and it stands under the special guidance of God. It was from the Berleburg that we have mentioned that the Berleburg Bible was issued, which gave a wide circula tion to the Mystical ideas of the Inspired living there, and prepared a way for them in the cottages of many of our country people.1 The Berleburg Bible has everywhere in view the changing of the letter of the Scriptures into spirit, by which procedure it is very easy to find the entire Holy Scriptures abundant in secret references to the inward man. The history of the creation, the six days, etc., and even the whole of the Old Testament history, have a mystical relation. There is nat urally much caprice in such interpretations, although it is undeniable that many profound observations are contained in these comments. But it is only riper Christians, whose gift of discrimination has been exercised, who can derive use from the study of the Berleburg Bible; in unskilled minds it has already awakened many perverted ideas, and has detracted 1 This work appeared, 1726 — 1739. The real authors have remained unknown to the present time. Comp. an article by Weizsacker in Her- zog's Beal-Encycl. Vol. II. p. 79. 176 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. from that practical Christianity to which true Pietism should always lead. Finally, the Inspired produced much mischief in the de partment of religious poetry. That applies chiefly to them which we are compeUed to number among the perversions of Pietistic poetry, — that painting of sensuous pictures, that dallying with the Savior, that constant speaking in such diminutives as 'little dove,' 'little sheep,' 'little lamb,' etc., and that false sentimentality whose corresponding coun terpart may be found in many of the secular poems of that period, with which we will not now delay, lest we give offence. But the more influence the Inspired gained, the less could the equalization of it here and there with Pietism, and a confusion of the two, be avoided. The two tendencies really flowed frequently into each other in many forms, so that in judging the single phenomena it was impossible for one with the best intention to draw the proper Une of demarcation, and for this reason there has arisen the vacillation in ac counts concerning them, and in the measures of the author ities adopted against them. This vacillation between approval and disapproval will be presented specially to your attention in the next lecture, when we shall consider the reception which Pietism met with in Switzerland during the former half of the eighteenth century. LECTURE IX. PIETISM AND SEPARATISM IN SWITZERLAND. — JOHN FRED ERICK SPEYER (?). — THE ASSOCIATION-OATH. — SAMUEL KOENIG OF BERNE. — THE SCHAFFHAUSEN DISTURBANCES. — JOHN GEORGE HURTER AND THE SCHOOL FOR THE POOR. — PIETISTS AND SEPARATISTS IN BASLE. — d'ANNONE. — SAM UEL LUTZ (LUCIUS) IN THE CANTON OF BERNE. — THE BRUGGLER SECT. We have hitherto looked at Pietism from a distance, but we now propose a nearer view of it. We are about to learn what reception it met with in Switzerland, and especially here among us in Basle. The Pietism of Halle being of Lutheran growth, we expect to find it somewhat peculiar when transplanted in Reformed soil. A number of sects had already proceeded from the Reformed Church. There was a continual contest with the Anabaptists and other parties who withdrew from the church (separatists), and Pietism was reckoned by many people, with more or less of justice, among these phenomena. / We have no trustworthy account as to how Pietism entered Switzerland. Spener himself was in Basle in his early life, but I do not know whether or not he carried on a corres pondence from Strasburg further into the country. Nor is it probable, in the hostility then existing between the Lutherans and the Reformed, that the young men of Switzer land would have attended the University of Halle; and yet it is known that the Grammar-School at Halle had Swiss students. x The first to disseminate Pietistic views in Switzer land is said to have been a certain John Frederick Speyer, 1 E. g. Von Wattewil the friend of Zinzendorf; see Lecture XVIII. 178 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of whom I have not been able to learn anything further.1 Indeed, it is not necessary to accept the supposition that Pietism was brought into Switzerland through the instru mentality of an individual. Principles, opinions, tendencies, thoughts, and customs propagate themselves spontaneously wherever they find a receptive soil. They work as by con tagion, whether it be good or bad, and hence we find in Switzerland, at the end of the eighteenth century, the genuine Pietism of Spener and Francke, and also mamfold forms of fanaticism and separatistic tendencies. We must not expect here a full account of Swiss sectarianism. It is, however, much to be desired that the subject should early receive a thorough, deliberate, and impartial treatment. We give here only fragments, chiefly what relates to Basle, and for the most part as we find them in the contemporary ecclesiastical documents and archives.2 They are fragments from which we can ascertain, sufficiently for our purpose, the spirit of those sects and parties, and also the spirit of the authorities. As in Germany so in Switzerland, the chief opposition to Pietism came from the old orthodoxy. A Zurich theologian, John Henry Heidegger, published toward the close of the seventeenth century (1691) his Report on the Perfection of the Regenerate. The Pietists defended themselves against the book, presenting an Apology in 1701. 3 In 1717 the authorities of Zurich issued a strict decree against the Pietists, while the Academy at Lausanne pronounced a favorable judgment on them. This, however, did not prevent the Bernese from following the ill example of Zurich. It was at length brought about by the zeal of a certain Pro fessor Rudolf of Berne, with the aid of the counselors and citizens, that every clergyman should take a formal oath, the so-called "association-oath," in which he must purge 1 See Schlegel, Kirchengeschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts, Vol. II. 1. p. 568. 2 The volume which we have preferred to use bears the title : Kirch- liche Schriften, Tom. XVI.: Pietisten, Separatisten und Wiedert&vfer, and contains much valuable matter not yet appropriated. 8 Schuler, Thaten und Sitten der Eidgenossen, Vol. III. p. 268. TROUBLES IN SCHAFFHAUSEN. 179 himself from Pietism just as from Socinianism.1 As a result of this order, Samuel Konig of Berne was banished because he had held Collegia Fietatis after the custom of the Pietists. at Halle. To be sure, he criticized the dominant church pretty severely, branding it as anti-Christian, soulless, and Babylonian. He afterwards became a Reformed preacher in Biidingen, where the Pietists were protected.2 There were troubles also in Schaffhausen. A certain Hes sian by the name of John Adam Gruber came to Schaffhau sen in November, 1716. On announcing himself as inspired, and uttering his threatening of divine wrath in prophetic tones, he found adherents among the clergy. Six preachers and candidates, who refused to join in condemnation of Gruber, were deposed from office and prohibited the exercise of their clerical functions. They afterward published a defence, from which we may learn what their feeling was.3 The great object of their hostility was the outward spiritual death of both the laity and clergy. They were especially concerned for a living Christianity. But their concern was not without signs of exaggeration; at least this is manifest from the foUowing sharp representation of the Schaffhausen clergy and of the preachers in general. They criticize as follows : " The cold and dead manner in which they perform the duties relating to the cure of souls might well draw from the eyes scalding tears. They may indeed be called rectors ; but their permitting themselves to bear the name of servants of the church involves their soul in a fearful accountability, in view of the miserable manner in which they discharge their duties. They suppose that preaching is the great, if not the only matter, and even here things go so gaily that the preaching- is made to serve them more than they the people. . . . They follow preaching as an ordinary calling, and many of » Schlegel, Vol. II. p. 367. Scbuler, Vol. III. p. 351. s F. Trechsel's Samuel Konig und der Pietismus in Bern (A Contribution to the Church History of our Native Country, in the Berner Taschenbuch for 1852), p. 104 ff. 8 Zeugniss der Wahrheit, by the Deposed Preachers and Candidates in Schaffhausen. 1721. 8 vo. 180 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. them are not ashamed to get the most of what they preach out of books of sermons, or even sometimes to deliver without thought whatever happens at the moment to be uppermost. Indeed, it is a great burden to them; they are glad when it is over, and find even so little pleasure in it that they seldom go to hear each other preach, but as soon as the end of the service is reached they unite in conver sation about something entirely different. . . . They give themselves no concern about the fruit they may gather from the souls of their hearers, . . . but are only concerned as to whether the congregation was large. They are satisfied if all is well in this respect. Outside the church they are eager in pursuit of their temporalities, — trade, possessions, incomes, and pleasures. They are careful to advance the merely fleshly interests of their families, and for the sake of lucre and distinction meddle with matters of govern ment, honor, and strife, such as others could attend to quite as well as themselves. Thus they make for themselves so much work that the care of the flock and of souls is for gotten. This is the reason that they do not even know their people by name. . . . Many of them are preachers for long years without ever having spoken to numbers of their flock, not to mention visiting them. They leave the poor, blind, wretched souls in their ignorance . . . and in the meshes of the world's craft, to pine away and die under the pressure of many a want, grief, and temptation. For because they are accustomed to have their visits paid for, they hardly go anywhere unless invited. The care of the poor in their sickness is handed over as a small matter to young and inex perienced persons, and is attended to in a way to move the very stones to pity. ... On the other hand, they well know their way to the doors of the rich, if their liberality and their presents happen to merit a visit of state. But even then they are not careful to feel the pulse of the poor souls, and to do them the most blessed of all services by showing them the deceitfulness of sin and the perverting power of riches. But by their beautiful compliments and a false show of Christianity, they rock them into a doubly ' JOHN GEORGE HURTER. 181 deep and deadly sleep of false security. In a word [here ends this sharp criticism], with most of the clergy, their dress and their pulpit are obliged to give authority to their office; for their conversation in daily life is as licentious, jocular, and bitter as that of other people." To know how far these accusations were true, we must have known the people ourselves. It is quite certain, how ever, that the Schaffhausen Pietists were in good earnest- One of them at least, John George Hurter, was, a man after God's heart, an Augustus Herman Francke in miniature.1 He had been a village pastor since 1704. The children of his scattered congregation were obliged to go a long way to> the town to school, 'and many could not get there at all. This decided him to build a school of his own, although he was entirely destitute of the necessary means. The school was first held in the guard-room of the place. Presents of money and books were not wanting, but the crowd of children soon became so great that the little room could no longer hold them. Thus it became neces sary to think of building. Some one hereupon advised. the placing of two boxes at the church-doors, bearing the inscription: " God loveth a cheerful giver." One- day Hurter found in one of these a wedding-ring, with the motto: "Lord, remember not the sins of my youth!" Then came a gift of fifty thalers, as the first deposit toward building the house, with the promise to do something more. A young nobleman contributed six casks of wine, and this was followed by other gifts of different amounts. Even the widow's mite was not wanting. When the private contributions began to fall off, the Council gave a hundred thalers, besides wine and grain. Upon this, the private liberality started afresh, and the work on the building proceeded gaily. Often relief came when want was the most pressing. We find here instances at once of human magnanimity and of God's gracious assistance which remind us of the history of the Orphan House at Halle. In De- 1 Consult, concerning him, Schuler, Vol. m. p. 490; and Schalch, Erinnerungen aus der Geschichte der Stadt Schaffhausen, Vol. II. 2. p. 63 ff. Vol. I.— 13 182 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. cember, 1709, seventy children, with their pastor, Hurter, at their head, celebrated with prayer and thanksgiving their entrance into their new house. So much for the school. Hurter then began to think of an orphan-house. One bene volent man laid the corner-stone by a gift of two hundred guldens. At the beginning, a room in the school-house was set apart for the reception of orphans, and in July, 1711, a widow with seven children was received. The contributions multiplied, and with them the children. Hurter devoted to this beneficent object much of his own means, and when, in 1716, he and the other adherents of Pietism were re warded for this service by deposition from the ministry, he modestly secluded himself in a little room in his Orphan House, where he spent the later years of his life. He died in 1721. The rest of the deposed Schaffhausen preach ers sought for other employments. They held their meetings hi the house of their patron, Squire Solomon Peyer, of Gold stein. These were suppressed, however, and Peyer, though an old man over seventy years of age, was required to take up his staff and go into banishment. This was in 1742. He ended his life in Hesse-Homburg. Difficulties arose about this time also in Basle concerning the Pietists and the separatists. A certain Andrew Boni, of Frenkendorf, was accused, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, of holding Pietistic and Anabaptist views. From him these opinions seem to have spread further into the country, especially to Pratteln and Riehen. Meetings con ducted by the schoolmaster of the village were held in the latter place. People from the neighboring margraviate also took part in conducting these assemblies; among whom was a journeyman-baker by the name of Gmehlin.1 These people were not accused of anything worse than reading the Scrip tures, which Gmehlin expounded somewhat narrowly. They also declaimed loudly against the legality of the oath, much 1 Was this a relative of the helper Siegmund Christian Gmehlin of Herrnberg? May it not have been his brother, who conducted with ¦him for some time the meetings at Calv? See Griineisen, on the Re ligious Societies of Wurtemberg, in lllgen's Hist. Zeitschrift, p. 79 ff. PIETISM OFFICIALLY INVESTIGATED. 183 in the spirit of the Anabaptists. They insisted earnestly upon a more rigid ecclesiastical disciphne and a stricter ob servance of Sundays; indeed, many exercised this ecclesias tical discipline upon themselves by remaining away from the Lord's Supper. Their absence was quite shocking to the clergy, who held them to account for it. If the Pietists were indisposed to be instructed, they were denounced as hostile to the government. Investigations were started, re ports presented, and interdicts issued. Pietism found a center for its operations even in the city. Madames Thierry and Von Planta, from Biinden, became known as its chief pro moters. They supported the needy with their substance, and distributed tracts in both city and country.1 In the year 1718 the Council felt itself called upon to convene a religious assembly,- consisting of clerical and lay deputies, and received reports from town and country concerning the growth of Pietism. It was ascertained that a great number of Pietists had arrived, especially from the region of Berne, and had scattered documents inculcating their views. It was also found out that, along with Pietism and chiefly by its author ity, Anabaptist views were making headway. This was prov ed by the fact that here and there some were refusing to aUow their chUdren to be baptized, as also to pay war-taxes and to take the civil oath in court. Some of the reports, however, contained nothing more than that, besides the regu lar church-service, many attended private meetings, and also led quiet and retired lives. Even those appointed to examine the cases complained of, gave different verdicts. It was also shown that the recklessness and pride of many of the regular clergy strengthened the people in their tendency to separation. Among other similar cases, the people of Diegten and Eptin- gen complained of the severity of their pastor. When they had approached him for conversation about their spiritual State, he repelled them with contemptuous words, telling them that they "were fit for the gallows!" To this gentle man the Religious Chamber therefore commended a more affectionate treatment of his people, and forbade him to abuse 1 Ochs, Geschichte der Stadt und Landschqft Basel, Vol. VIE. p. 457. 184 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. them from the pulpit.1 Some of the pastors were milder in their judgment of the Pietists than the preacher of Diegten. Pastor Bartenschlag of Binningen wittily complained that the im-Pietists of his church gave much more occasion for scandal than the Pietists.2 Pastor Euler of Riehen, the father of the famous mathematician, testified that the Pietists were the most faithful attendants of church and never absent from the Lord's Supper; that they were, as their name implied, earnestly devoted to piety.3 Finally, in July, 1722, the clergy issued a memorial, which was very remarkable for caution and moderation. "A Christian government," it says, "has good reason to deal with a matter of this sort with care and moderation, that the good be not rooted out and destroyed with the evil. For it is not to be doubted that among the so-caUed Pietists, many, perhaps the majority, have upright intentions and holy desires to work out their salvation with fear and trembling."4 As to the meetings, particular attention was called to the danger of them, especiaUy if held at night, without the knowl edge of the authorities and under the management of igno rant and fanatical persons. It was resolved to prohibit them, except when a man with his family and servants, or a few friends, relatives, or neighbors come together for mutual edi fication, and nobody sets himself up for teacher, and every thing goes on orderly. Indeed, the government would do well to watch narrowly the conventicles in town and country, in which nothing but evil was done, such as feasting, drinking, gambling, swearing, and other works of darkness, and that commonly on the Lord's Day. It would sound rather badly if they should break up the assemblies of the so-called Pie tists, and aUow those of atheists and epicureans to remain. In regard to tracts, caution was enjoined, and it was very properly remarked, that it were much better that the clergy themselves provide for the people such books as would edify them than, that such work should- be left to incompetent 1 See Acta der Beligionskammer, No. 13 of Volume of MSS., p. 25. 2 Volume of MSS., No. 22. » Ibid., No. 23. 4 Ibid., No. 55. BANISHMENT OP KOENIG FROM BASLE. 185 hands. It was declared especially important to keep a watch ful eye upon strange teachers and fanatics, who so well knew how to insinuate themselves into the churches. The latter part of the document related particularly to Samuel Koenig, the preacher who had been banished from Berne. He had returned from Budingen (where he had serv ed the Reformed Church eighteen years) to Berne, and received a professorship of theology. He visited Basle during Easter, in 1732, and held meetings. Prelate Hieronymus Burckhardt testified concerning him, that nothing amiss took place in these assemblies. "Nothing could be detected in him," it was said, "but a remarkable zeal for the honor of God and the welfare of the church; his faith was orthodox, and agreeable to the Helvetic Confession, and he resisted the separatists with all his power."1 And yet a few months later the Council saw it needful that " Professor Koenig cease preaching, and that he should be warned by an officer to leave Basle and the neighborhood within the next twenty-four hours." And this order was justified both by the prelate and the clergy generally; for, although they could lay nothing positively to his charge, they were of opinion that Professor Koenig "would be able to find in these evil times work enough without going outside of Berne to seek it; that the church was not now to be managed as in the days of the Apostles, when the servants of Christ were obliged to go out into all the world to preach the gospel; and that in every place there were now teachers and preachers especially ap pointed to whom the people must adhere, leaving the rest lest confusion should arise." This separation of national and cantonal churches, and the careful avoidance of every point of spiritual contact beyond the limits of official labor, were characteristics of the period. Our missionary and Bible celebrations, and the clerical unions, colporteurs, and evangelists of the different pious associations of the present day would all have been motes in the eyes of the orthodox of those times. The spirit of caste and exclusiveness was very strong in the church. From this 1 Volume of MSS. in the Church Archives, No. 73 ff. 186 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. spirit there proceeded an order to all the city and rural. clergy, forbidding them to admit to their pulpits other minis ters, especially strangers, except in cases of extreme neces sity. Reports were required on this point, as also on the advancement of Pietism. There were liberal spirits here and there who met these demands with answers of irony and humor. One of these was Pastor Wettstein of Laufelfingen, a relative of the celebrated critic. He wrote: "As for my humble part, I count it my great joy to attend in my own person to my pulpit, committed to my care by God and our- paternal government. I do not invite to preach for me even a distinguished brother, and never a stranger, except in an extreme case. I have very few Pietists according to the rule of Paul, but, thank God, none at all after the fashion of the day. Still, separatists are not wanting, — such as stay away from church several months at a stretch, although frequently reminded of their duty by the officers and others." Indeed, it soon turned out that certain pastors fell under the suspicion of Pietism. Prominent among them all was Pastor Hieronymus d'Annone, who had already made the acquaintance of the Pietists in Schaffhausen, and was estab lished at Wallenburg at the time the investigations commenced in Basle. He went so far as to hold meetings in his own house, and was called to account for it. He defended himself with great dignity and simplicity. He acknowledged that he held religious meetings on week-evenings in his own house; all who came were admitted; he began and closed with a short prayer; explained the New Testament, and sometimes had singing; everything proceeded quietly; nobody was ever invited to these meetings, much less required to come; and that he did not fail to preach against neglect of household duties, and absence from public worship. Moreover, those who did not attend these assemblies were just as dear to him as those who did, provided they conducted themselves in a Christian manner, and attended dUigently upon preaching and catechizing. Sometimes country people from other churches came to see him at the parsonage on Sunday after service. This could hardly be criminal either in him or his visitors. HIERONYMUS D'ANNONE. 187 If it was allowable to go to the bowling-alley and the tavern, why not also to the parsonage? This Pastor Hieronymus d'Annone went subsequently to Muttenz, where he also held meetings. His able and highly original preaching, in the tone and spirit of the Pietists, drew crowds of hearers from the city, so that the city-clergy were "very anxious to put a stop to this gadding and visiting, as something disreputable and hostile to true Christianity."1 D'Annone was also the author of a number of hymns, whose merits have only recently found public acknowledgment.2 Es peciaUy was he the first to labor earnestly at compfling a, hymn-book, which might be used in connection with the "Lob- wasser Psalms." There still linger among us many anecdotes of his preaching and pastoral life ; and his portrait as a man altogether peculiar in his way well deserves to be brought home to the mind in our own day. He died in October, 1770, and left behind him a fine collection of mystical and ascetic writings, which still exists under the name of the D'Annonean Library, and to which I am indebted for much relating to the history of Pietism.3 If simple Pietism, which confined itself to religious meet ings, without neglecting public service, continually won more and more upon public respect and confidence, especiaUy where its supporters were persons of fine Christian char acter, separatism, on the contrary, which grew up side by side with it, and regarded the church, the clerical office, and the sacraments most contemptuously, could not fail to cause great offence among the people. In some parts of 1 Acta Ecclesiaslica (MS.), Tom. V. p. 287. 2 See Knapp's Evangelischer Liederschalz, the Wurtemberger Gesangbuch Geistliche Liederbttschel, 1777; and Koch, Vol. III. p. 215 ff. To these must be added other poems, partly secular and partly spiritual, intended to meet the wants of the country people. They were written in a naive tone, which was therefore easily misunderstood; e. g. the "Ribbon Weav er's Song," in which all the various parts of the ribbon-weaver's tradn fire spiritualized, and our Savior is called this "Master- Weaver," the title by which the foreman is known among the factory-people c, Basle. " It .is under the control of Prelate Burckhardt. 1S8 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the canton, in the village of Zeglingen, for example, where a certain Daniel Riggenbacher carried on his mischief, certain people had separated from the church and sought by all means to draw others off with them. The result was, as Pastor Seiler of Frenkeudorf reported, that on the 4th of January, 1743, a certain Daniel from Zeglingen had come to Frenkendorf on Christmas morning, and that at a certain tavern, as the people were returning from church after communion, he asked the communicants what they had been doing at church.1 When they replied that they had been at the Lord's table, he told them that he would get more good out of the pipe of tobacco which he then lighted than they from their "bread-eating." Such impiety could not pass unnoticed. Riggenbacher and a nmnber of his fellows were putinto the house of correction, and the clergy talked with them. The result of the investigation was to show that their contempt for the sacrament was not the result of a sacrilegious spirit, but rather of false and exaggerated views of ecclesiastical discipline. So much tlie worse method, therefore, was the house of correction for reclaiming them from their errors. This plan, however, was often tried by the civil authorities, although the clergy counseled at the beginning a milder course. They wisely held, that to per secute fanaticism was only to give it a firmer root.2 Notwithstanding this advice, new cautions were adopted against strange teachers who might attempt to slip by stealth into city or country. It was said that it was necessary first of all to protect themselves against these " strange sneaks." And hence the Council issued the following most remarkable decision in December, 1746: "No strange teacher, male or female, shall be tolerated among us, but all Such shall be sent off, and to this end a decree shall be published and circu lated through town and country that no one shall harbor or lodge such a person under a penalty of fifty guldens." This had but little effect in checking the spread of separatism. 1 Probably this Riggenbacher; see Volume of MSS. No. 105 (between d and e), 3 Comp. Acta Eccles. (MS.), pp. 181, 204, 235. THE SPREAD OF SEPARATISM. 189 Here and there it disclosed itself in connection with strange phenomena, such as convulsive prostrations of the body, clair voyance, and the like. But that violence would only produce a new martyrdom was soon to find proof in the city itself. For the crime of separatism, John Mainfait, a Frenchman, was com pelled, in 1750, to wear the iron collar and stand in the pillory, previous to banishment. This produced the greatest dis content among his numerous followers. When the executioner of the law led the condemned man out into the pubhc square, some of them embraced the culprit with the greatest tender ness. They wished thus to declare to the world that they regarded him as their beloved brother. Others gave him an escort to the city-gate at his departure, and when called to an account for it, openly confessed their attachment • to the unjustly condemned man and their abhorrence of the in tolerance of the government. They said, the love of Christ induced them so to act; they must hearken to God rather than men. The cases of suspicion for separatism increased, and the clergy had many talks with the suspected parties. The re sult was, that many prominent citizens of Basle adhered to the separatists. Their view was that the church, in its present condition, should be regarded as corrupt, and that communion with it was wrong. The separatists of Little Basle said, among other things, that they could hold no communion with people who found pleasure in the disgraceful mummeries of the carnival, who even disguised themselves as irrational beasts, or at least showed sympathy with such heathenish doings, and promoted them by official favor.1 Another separatist declared that he could not unite in the regular prayers of the church, because they contained a petition for the University, which, contrary to the word of God, supported dancing and fencing-masters.2 The majority 1 Down to quite a late date, the guilds and associations held their processions at carnival time (on Shrove Tuesday), and the animals represented on their ensigns, such as the griffin, the lion, and others, then made their appearance. 2 See Volume of MSS., No. 153. 190 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of them agreed in the opinion that the service of the dom inant church was not profitable, because the people were required simply to listen to the preaching without the privi lege of asking questions and expressing their own views; that baptism was desecrated by the worldly show and christening-feasts connected with it; that the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was administered to the licentious; and that ecclesiastical discipline was subverted. Some went so far as to say openly, that the great matter was the baptism of the Spirit and inward communion, — fellowship with the Lord himself; the outward signs might be dispensed with in cases of necessity; indeed, a good Christian could commem orate the death of Christ as often as he ate bread and drank wine at home ; and the Bible could be better explained inwardly, by the help of the Spirit, than outwardly by the preaching of a man from the pulpit. Others declared them selves opposed to infant-baptism and the usual civU oath, but not all were agreed on these points. Further, some of the separatists had buried their dead in quiet spots outside of the city-gates, that they might not repose by the side of the wicked. In its turn, the church refused to the separatists the usual announcement of the death of their friends. After the preachers had labored in vain to bring the sep aratists over to better views, a "sharp remedy," as the pulpit-phrase of the day ran, was applied. Respectable per sons, male and female, were confined in the house of correc tion, and kept on bread and water. They were committed to the care of John Jacob Spreng, chaplain of the institution and the imperial poet, who was commissioned to convert them. l I cannot tell whether this man's eloquence and theo logical and pastoral insight, or the "sharp remedy" of the house of correction, brought the erring ones to a better state of mind. But I know this: such measures were not in accordance with Protestantism, even though it may be shown 1 John Jacob Spreng, a contemporary of Drollinger, born at Basle, 1699, and died in 1768, when Professor of Swiss History, Greek, and Poetry. He had talents, but was the quintessence of pedantry. He was the author of some hymns. SAMUEL LUTZ (LUCIUS). 191 that similar mistakes were committed in the Protestant Church from the beginning. The separatists pointed to such mis takes, and sought to justify their separation from the Re formed Church by means of them. In a publication against Professor Beck x by two separatists, Miville and Fasch, it was said, among other things: "Calvin, the founder of the Re formed rehgion, stained his hands with blood, for by his order the upright and pious Servetus was burnt with green wood, because he would not agree to Calvin's fraud. The scribes of the present day are Calvin's own children, for they destroy in like manner those who oppose them. Christ did not act thus. He enjoined upon his disciples to suffer for his sake, and not to persecute others." Spreng had the pleasure, however, to see many of the most stiff-necked sep aratists openly renouncing their errors, and, after their release from the house of correction, honoring him with letters of thanks for his services. It is also said, that he was rewarded by the government.2 But separatism still had a quiet existence, and only began to pass away gradually after the Moravians, of whom we shall tpeak further on, obtained a footing, and spread among us. In addition to the aforementioned Hieronymus d'Annone, one of the most noted men who promoted Mysticism and Pietism in Switzerland, and at the same time wrought as an author, was a Bernese pastor named Samuel Lutz (Lucius). He was twenty odd years older than D'Annone. He was not without intellect, but had also fanatical and fantastical ten dencies. We will pause awhile here to get a view of his personality. Born in the year 1674, Lucius, the son of a country pastor, awakened strong hope of his future career 1 Jacob Christian Beck, Prof, of Theology in Basle (born 1711, f 1785), author of an excellent Concordance and of Theological Com- pends, wrote against the sects his Folly of Separatism. Basle, 1753. The book of Hans Ulrich Miville and Hieronymus Fasch was a reply: A brief Account of the Tract published in Basle against the so-called Separa tists. Miville was the father of the Professor of Theology of that name. Comp. Kundig, Erinnerimgen an, J. F. Miville. Basle, 1851. 2 Ochs, Vol. VII. p. 615. 192 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. even while yet a child.1 In his seventh year he not only easily read Latin, but even Greek and Hebrew, and he under stood much of what he read. About the same time, how ever, he had remarkable spiritual trials. His own account runs thus: "From my seventh to my twelfth year the devU followed me and sought to ruin my soul and body. He alarmed me with nightly apparitions and helhsh suggestions, and I had no one who could afford me assistance. On one occasion, Satan appeared to me in broad daylight in a gi gantic form, with smoke and lightning. I looked at him awhile, thinking it was a giant, until he uttered a horrible growl, chattering at me in a most awful manner, so that I was very much alarmed and began to cry most piteously, whereupon he vanished. But from my twelfth to my sixteenth year the goodness and grace of God reigned in me, and my soul frequently enjoyed sacred meltings. When I first partook of the Lord's Supper my soul so ran over with heavenly, supernatural joy that the tears rolled down my cheeks in brooklets, and this gracious beam of heaven abode with me for many years." Yet he complains that the study of mathematics and the classics drew his heart away from God, and that it was only when he had taken the Holy Scriptures in hand to study theology that the grace of God again stirred in his soul. Meantime, much hypocrisy crept in; he was anxious to con vert others before he himseU had been converted. Finally, one night, at 3 o'clock, when he could not sleep (he was at that time twenty-five years old), it seemed to him that God spake to him out of the whirlwind. He heard and felt nothing more of this world; every word was a thunder-peal to him; he looked down into the lowest depth of ruin and felt him self dashed into it, and sunk among the damned. In this despair (like Gichtel in a similar condition) he would have laid violent hands on himself and ended his Ufe, but God's hand held him back. The words of the Psalmist, "If I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there," convinced him that man 1 See the Lebenslauf Herrn Samuelis Lucii, gewesenen Predigers, etc., Berne, 1751; compare therewith the Christliche Vollcsbote for 1841. LUTZ'S INNER STRUGGLES. 193 cannot escape God by means of death. This terrible struggle of soul lasted for three hours. In the midst of his grief it struck him, that if Jesus were now on earth he would go to him and inquire whether there really remained any grace or hope for him? But he thought again : How is this ? Does not Christ still work again through his members? A friend came in the nick of time to comfort him. To this friend he lamented that he was a great sinner. The answer was, "He that confesses and forsakes his sin shall find mercy and forgiveness from the Lord." In a moment the shadow of death left him; he saw himself once more in the land of the living; he took heart, and although he still trembled for fourteen days, he was delivered from his fears, and felt like one who had escaped from flood and tempest and had entered into the peaceful haven. Who, in reading this account, does not think of the similar struggle of Luther in the Augustinian Cloister at Erfurt, and of the comfort with which that old priest con soled him? "Now," continues Lucius, "the Spirit of God having breathed into me, all the good in me withered Uke a flower of the field ; my own righteousness perished ; aU glory vanished; and I learned to bow myself before God, and to fear him all my life." But this was only laying the foun dation for faith. Many battles yet awaited him; in these he ever found the greatest and increasing pleasure in the much opposed writings of Luther. Beyond everything else, however, be was sustained by the friendly form of Christ. Outward trials were added to these inward struggles. Lucius, in his studies, had taken no thought of food and comfort. "I thought," says he, "neither of revenues, nor settlement, nor marriage, — I loathed them all. I was only intent ou preach ing about the country, and winning souls." And, indeed, he was a long time in getting a pastorate. Only after he had occupied the unimportant place of German preacher in Yver- don for twenty-three years, and had refused a number of calls from abroad, did he become pastor at Amsoldingen, and finally at Diesbach, in the canton of Berne. Even during his residence at Yverdon there were complaints that his 194 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. preaching was too close; that he scared people from the enjoyment of the Lord's Supper; that he produced division in families; and that he favored Pietism on the whole. He found himself called on to publish a defence.1 The " associa tion-oath" also, of which we have spoken before, gave him considerable trouble. He had allowed himself to be per suaded to take it, like the other pastors, at his entrance upon the pastoral office. But from that moment he felt as though he had denied the Lord through fear of man; the oath, as he said, stood before him like the cherub with the flaming sword to prevent his entrance into Paradise. And it was only when he had declared that he would rather give up his place than have his conscience burdened with this oath, and the government had released him from his position, that he found rest. During his pastorate at Amsoldingen he often held out door meetings, because he could not meet with the people in their houses. These assemblies were convened in the open field, on the shady edge of the forest, and not far from the roadside. Everybody was free to come, but the attention awakened and the talk occasioned by them soon obliged him to give them up. He had no sympathy with the separatists, who, indeed, gave him trouble during his residence at Diesbach. He was also free from fanaticism, but with good reason may be reckoned among the Mystics and Pietists. The anxiety which characterizes Pietism was especially marked in him. He charged himself with sin because he had concluded to drink a certain mineral water under the advice of a physi cian, when Jesus had promised that he would himself be his physician. The sickly and emotional elements of Pietism, re vealing themselves in flowery and not always tasteful language, cropped out in him. This may be seen in the titles which he chose for his books, as, for example: The Badly Bruised Grapes lying under the Wine-press of God's Wrath, or: The Lily of Love blooming among the Thistles of Manifold Adversity, etc. But he also showed the better side of Pietism. 1 Zeugniss der Wahrheit oder Verantwortung wider die Klagen und Lasterungen, etc. — Signed, Christopher Gratianus. THE BRUGGLER SECT. 195 He strikingly expresses his humility thus: "If the earth had done nothing since its creation but carry on its back for fifty years such a miserable burden as I am, its glorification would thereby have been well earned. Oh that my aim were reached, and Jesus were high and glorious in many souls, and he alone filled mountain and valley with his glory!"1 "His biographer says: "His delivery was not oratorical or after the wisdom of men, to tickle the ear', but in demon stration of the spirit and of power; his discourses were attractive, convincing, penetrating, and like nails surely driven." He always drew a crowd; many came from curiosi ty, and many to hear something which they might turn against him. His preaching and writings always exerted great in fluence upon the Swiss people. He also conducted an exten sive correspondence. His end was worthy of his life. He died on the 28th of May, 1750, at a good old age. We are not willing to leave the history of Pietism in Switzerland without some notice of the degenerate freaks played by that erring, self-elected piety which we have de scribed as the double-eyed and fanatical counterfeit of Pietism, and which, if we would be just, we should never place to the account of Pietism, nor confound it even with its dark side. Many impurities found entrance among the separatists of whom we have already given some account. But the poison of fanaticism wrought most fearfully among the sect called Brugglers, in the canton of Berne.2 Two brothers, Hierony mus and Christian Kohler, of Briiggel, in the jurisdiction of Riggisberg, — the elder thirty years of age and the younger twenty-six, — took it into their heads that they were the two witnesses of whom John speaks in the 11th Chapter of Rev elation, when he says: "I Will give power unto my two witnesses, and they shall prophesy a thousand two hundred and threescore days, clothed in sackcloth." They according ly proclaimed that the speedy coming of Christ, would take place at Christmas, 1748. An extraordinary brightness, * Lebenslauf, p. 304. 2 Das entdeckte Geheimniss der Bosheit in der Briiggler Secte, etc. Zurich, 1753. 196 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. which showed itself in the heavens about that time, served them as infallible evidence that their prophecy was to be fulfilled. They asserted that they themselves would not die, that "the pine to be used for their coffins had not yet grown." On one occasion Christian Kohler actually pretended that he was about to ascend to heaven, which, for good reasons, he omitted to do. The brothers further proposed to pray souls out of hell, and began, as did Tetzel, a formal trade in indulgences, in which they are reported to have had their jokes in private over the good nature of those who, with simple faith in their power, brought them great rolls of butter and cheese. This was only a single disgrace among many of which they were guilty. Their doctrines were such that they concealed the grossest carnal lusts under spiritual forms of speech. Everything was allowable to the regenerate; no harm could happen to him whose name was written in heaven; God would never again erase his name; if the spirit is only with God, the flesh may follow its bent, it does not disturb the spirit; to the pure all things are pure; the elect of God need not work; that is well enough for the heathenish unbelievers and Babylonians, whose doom it is to work for the faithful; Gnd giveth his beloved sleep. These doc trines bore their unclean fruit only too soon. The false prophets were expelled the country, but they still found frequent opportunities to return secretly, until finally, when the excesses of the sect had shown themselves in the most horrid crimes, Hieronymus Kohler was seized, in January, 1754, and condemned to death by the Bernose authorities. When brought to the place of execution he was greatly alarmed, but he was strangled and his body burnt. But even this severity could not wholly extinguish the evil. The tares which had been sown while men slept still grew under different forms and at different times; even the latest reap peared in almost every kind of spiritual deception. We have now examined the history of Pietism, as also of Mysticism and fanaticism, in Germany and Switzerland. We have beheld the dead forms of orthodoxy confronted by certain RETROSPECT OF PIETISM. 197 joyful and powerful phenomena, though associated with much that was gloomy and confused, and even with some things which were disgraceful and abominable. But even where we were met by the better and nobler form of Pietism we could not withhold the observation, that the simple and healthful spirit of Spener, from whom Pietism in Germany had arisen, had not remained everywhere the same, and tnat a certain well-meant but excessive timidity, together with form- aUty and legality, threatened to fetter the free and multi form development of the evangelical spirit, just as its moral earnestness, on the other hand, restrained the rude ungodly Ufe, and maintained discipUne and decorum among great numbers of both high and low. After the days of Spener and Francke we meet with no great minds able to give to Pietism a new impulse and an organization suited to the times. For even the pious preach ers and hymnists, with whom we have occasionally met in our discussions, were rather supporters and guiding organs of Pietism than creative and reformative spirits. So far as we have yet seen Pietism, it lacks a firm -personal center, a nucleus around which it might crystallize anew; it seemed in a fair way to fall to pieces, to be cut up into sects, and to perish in the end. But in the first decades of the eighteenth century we find men stepping forth who affect the history of Pietism in various ways, and through it the history of Protestantism, thereby awakening new interest and stirring up controversy. Among these must be reckoned the Wurtemberg prelate, Albert Bengel, the leader of Swabian Pietism, together with his spiritual associates, Hahn, Oetinger, HiUer and others. Here too belongs Count Nicholas Lewis von Zinzendorf, though he stood higher as an organizer, and occupied more public attention. Here also belong the founders of Methodism in England, Wesley and Whitefield, and also, in a certain sense, Emanuel Swedenborg, Lavater, and StilUng. Before we enter this distinguished circle it will be necessary to lay aside for a Uttle while the history of Pietism and its kindred tendencies, for the purpose of getting a view of that opposite direction Vol. I.— 14 198 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of critical and philosophical thought which, developing itself along side of Pietism, and partly in conflict with it, struggled to tear itself loose from positive faith. With such a view we shall be the better able to restore the balance to the scale of the century ; and hence, in the following lectures, we shall pass in review Deism and naturalism, as they spread from England and France into Germany, together with the movements they occasioned in religion and theology. LECTURE X. ATTEMPTS AT ILLUMINISM. — DEISM AND NATURALISM. — BO- LINGBROKE. — VOLTAIRE. DIDEROT. — d'ALEMBERT.— HEL- VETIUS. — BARON VON HOLBACH (SYSTEME DE LA NATURE). — J. J. ROUSSEAU. — MARY HUBER. — EDELMANN. We now turn from the history of Pietism to that direction of thought which gave name to the eighteenth century for a length of time, — for that century was called the illuministic . or philosophical century. Illuminism, Philosophy, and Toler ance were the watchwords of the period. As we have already spoken of tolerance in the proper place, let us now turn to ward illuminism. It is strange how certain names which, taken Uterally, express only what is good and praiseworthy, may easily assume another meaning, that gives them a bad or at least a doubtful sound. The Reformation and Protestantism wished for an illuminism, and so did Christianity. An enemy of illu minism must be the foe of light and the friend of darkness. And Christ calls his people the children of light, who are to walk in the light. He exhorts us to keep the inner eye of the spirit ever clear and open; he enjoins upon us to let our light shine, and not put it under a bushel. We also speak of a candlestick of the gospel, which the Reformers restored to its place when it had been thrown down; and we therefore call the Reformers men of light. Without doubt, however, the notions of light itself are quite various, and frequently what one calls light is described by another as darkness, and vice versa. WhUe the Mystic 200 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. boasts of his inward light, and fancies that he walks in the light, the illuminist reproaches him with stumbling about in the darkness of his own feelings, and, on the contrary, boasts of his own doctrine as the genuine candlestick. The course pursued by our German usages of speech in this in stance is remarkable. One party calls the operation of light enlightenment; the other, illuminism. Regarded purely in an etymological point of view, both words seem to express the same thing, and yet there is a great difference. Indeed, according to the former usage of speech, their meaning seemed exactly opposite; for many who reckoned themselves among the enlightened would hear nothing at aU of illumi nism, and those who gloried in their illuminism treated enlight enment with contempt. It is somewhat similar with the words spirit, liberty, and Ufe. Among the Pietists, especially of the olden time, a " clever" writer was a term very different from what is now understood by it. So too with the words spirit ual and spirited; they are separated in our language in a manner that tempts one to regard them as antitheses of each other. Still, what is spiritual appears to many unspirit- ed, while that which is praised in our times as spirited and clever is in the highest degree unspiritual. Freedom is the watchword of Christianity and of Protestantism; but freedom, with those who make no claim of deriving it from themselves, presupposes a deliverance. And yet it is precisely this deliv erance of which those who boast of their freedom know nothing. As Christians we should have a free spirit; we should think and act freely. And yet how does it happen that a free spirit, a free-thinker, has become an offensive name, from which many a Christian heart draws back with trembling? Christianity has proposed from the beginning to bring life from the dead; for Christ called himself the Life, just as he called himself the Light. And yet when some speak of awakening to life they understand by it something wholly different from others, who boast of wide-awake heads and spirits, and of the life which proceeds from them. This confusion of words is a great evil, and has its root in a sad confusion of ideas. True spiritual illumination and CONTRASTS IN HUMAN CHARACTER AND OPINIONS. 201 true intellectual progress should not stand in each other's way; but both should represent the operation of one light, though on different sides. The one, illumination, is developed in connection with the heart; the other, illuminism, with the understanding; and yet they should be in mutual harmony. The spiritual, therefore, should always be treated intellectual ly, and in a manner worthy of a thinking spirit ; but the truly intellectual should also react favorably upon the spiritual life. The freedom of God's children should be exhibited as liber- aUty and frankness in all human relationships, and as independ ence of all merely human institutions and human caprice; and whoever has been awakened by God to a true inward life should be outwardly cheerful and lively, and even in his earth ly relations unfold an exuberant, stirring, and healthy life. But it always turns out that men separate what God has joined; that the divine and human, instead of being reconciled and united through Christ, tend to fall wider apart ; that the spiritual and the temporal, faith and science, thought and feeling, earnestness and jest, sternness and gentleness, with all their opposites, present themselves ever as stubborn con tradictions, and the union and harmony of these stand before us as the lost Paradise, whose entrance is guarded by the cherub with the flaming sword. Those who are firmly fixed in one are usually unsusceptible of the other, or even bitterly hostile to it. The Pietist, solely concerned to keep his inner experience unclouded and undisturbed, looks with suspicion on the advancing steps of a science which may stir up doubt, and he holds himself gloomily aloof from the cheerful and joyous things which the world presents in its various spheres. The illuminist, on the other hand, beholds in every lively utterance of piety a Pietism or Jesuitism which fears the light; in every decided movement of faith, fanaticism; and often, like Don Quixote, attacks mere windmills under the belief that he is warring for liberty and philosophy. Thus we see these contrasts more sharply drawn at the, beginning of the eighteenth century than ever before. If Pie tism and illuminism united in the seventeenth century to form a power antagonistic to the old orthodoxy, as in the case of 202 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Thomasius and Spener, the orthodox and the Pietists now drew close together in order to make battle against a com mon foe, who, as they fully believed, was bringing desolation upon the church. We have already seen what movements were occasioned by the Wolfian philosophy. And yet this system was harmless when compared with the Deism and naturalism which spread from England and France into Ger many, and made their appearance either openly and undis guised, or insidiously, and, in some cases, found means to commend themselves to those who were anxious to hold fast whatever was tenable in religion and wilUng to yield only what could not be defended. We must here resume the history of English Deism, al ready treated in previous lectures.1 We have seen that in the seventeenth century, Lord Herbert, Hobbes, Shaftesbury, Toland, Collins, Woolston, and others labored for the overthrow of faith in a positive, historical revelation, and for substituting a so-called religion of reason, which was to be sufficient for all men and all ages. We have seen that this struggle pro ceeded in some cases from deep earnestness of soul and a sincere pursuit of truth, while in others it was mixed with the impure passions of pride, selfishness, and the lust of worldly pleasure. In the eighteenth century the deistical movement received an accession in the names of WiUiam Tindal, Thomas Morgan, and Viscount Bolingbroke. We shall here confine our attention to Bolingbroke, because, by his method of treating the subject, he marks the transition to French Deism, which exerted a much more direct influence than the English on the state of Germany in the eighteenth century. Bolingbroke is the es pecial forerunner of Voltaire.2 While Toland, Collins, Wool ston, Tindal, and Morgan confined themselves more strictly to scientific discussion and research, Bolingbroke did not appear 1 Part IV. p. 456. We have since had a striking presentation of English Deism in Lechler's Qeschichte des Englischen Deismus. Stuttgart, 1841. 2 On Bolingbroke, consult Lechler, p. 396; and comp. Schlosser, His tory of the Eighteenth Century. Vol. I. pp. 55 — 77. LORD BOLINGBROKE. 203 as the supporter of scientific interests, or the questions aris ing thence; he was rather a personified levity, which, under the name of the culture and the intellectual illuminism of the century, was acquiring increased mastery over the higher classes. Hence, in his attacks on Christianity, he employed a tone which was light and witty rather than earnest. His weapon was ridicule. Henry St. John, born in 1672, sprang from one of the old noble families, and was educated at Eton College and the University of Oxford. "A noble form, fine manners, with a peculiar mingling of courtUness and condescension, a quick wit, a happy imagination and a wonderful witchery of con versation, made his fortune in the great world." Eager and passionate by nature, he enjoyed his fortune without restraint, so that he was an exhausted debauchee at the early age of thirty-eight. Ambition now came to take the place of dissi pation. As a member of the House of Commons, he united with the Tory party. Under Queen Anne he was elevated to the peerage, with the title of Viscount Bolingbroke; more over, he was always ready to change his political complexion to suit the circumstances. Bolingbroke fell into disgrace when George I. came to the throne, and after losing his title and estates, fled to France in 1715 to escape trial for high treason. In his exile the Pretender made him Keeper of the Seals. He afterwards became a Whig, and in 1723 received pardon from George. After his return from France, however, he was careful to keep out of public Ufe, and confined him self entirely to authorship. In 1735 he went voluntarily once more to France, in order that there, out of the reach of politics, he might devote himself to literary labor. He re turned again to England, and died in November, 1751, at nearly eighty years of age. BoUngbroke, Uke Hobbes, regarded religion only from the standpoint of politics. With him, Christianity and the church existed for the state alone. From this degrading point of view he even placed himself at first in opposition to the free-thinkers, but only because they, by the overthrow of positive religion, would take from the mouths of the common 201 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. people the bit which their brute nature demanded. To such a mind, denying the nobility of our nature, the whole history of religion, heathen as well as Christian and Jewish, appeared only as a tissue of priestly impositions for political objects or as the product of empty philosophical speculations. Man can know nothing except what his senses teach him; and to this the intelligent confine themselves ; a revelation, or rather what pretends to be one, might be a good thing for the pop ulace. And hence Bolingbroke sometimes pretended to be lieve in the divinity of Christianity in its original form, and to reject only theology, which had been developed out of simple Christianity and had been adulterated by admixture with many errors. But at other times he threw away the mask, and made Jesus at the best a reformer of Judaism, accommodating himself to the prejudices of the people, U not actually sharing them. Bolingbroke had no strictly elaborated system. Indeed, such a thing was not to be looked for from a man who treated science and religion with equal contempt. Philosophy, which the other Deists so highly prized, was to him ridiculous, a cobweb of follies and vanities; and even history had no value except for the uses of the present. Everything else, gathered with whatever care from the treas ures of the past, appeared to him as so much worthless an tiquarian lumber. The whole East, with its wealth of poesy, and the Middle Ages, that mirror of the Orient in western history, were to the homespun understanding of the English man nothing but a long and weary period of darkness and barbarism. In this way he betrayed merely his own barbar ism. And yet this was the wisdom which the century was imbibing with increasing greediness. The opinions of so-called good society, as they had been understood from the days of Louis XIV., were Bolingbroke's highest authority. What this class of people laughed at, he laughed at ; and whatever this proud man of the world ridiculed, was treated in the same manner by thousands of his miserable imitators. "A public," says Schlosser, "of ignorant, credulous, or imagina tive people always follows the fashion and the leaders of the ton; to-day Bolingbroke and Voltaire, to-morrow their vehe- V0LTAIP.E"S INFLUENCE ON PROTESTANTISM. 205 ment opponents. This so-caUed great world is a reed shaken by the wind."1 It may be easily understood, meantime,, how Bolingbroke found public favor if it only be recollected that hitherto history and philosophy had been considered merely as matters for the learned, with no sort of relation to actual life. The rush from a cumbrous and pedantic treatment of science to this off-hand and frivolous method was indeed bold, but might stUl have been expected. But the fashion once started, thousands immediately fell in with it. We have called Bolingbroke the precursor of Voltaire; and with Voltaire we designate the whole movement which we have kept in view as the Rationalism of the century. It is not our place here to give either a history of Voltaire or a critique upon his works. Several years ago' lectures were given in this place on the French moralists, in which Voltaire came in for a share.2 And indeed it would be pos sible to give a complete idea of a man like Voltaire, who was the chief representative of the Uterature of. the century, only in connection with his contemporaries in French Uterature. Yet this would take us out of our range. In our history of Protestantism we must look more at his influence on the German Protestant world, and only treat him, in passing, in such a way as to get a clear view of the man. We have already become acquainted with him as the advocate of tol erance, and the defender of Protestants against their fa natical murderers. This, and his account of their persecutions in his History of Louis XIV., are his only services to Prot estantism, and even here his service was conditional and limited. To Voltaire, Protestantism and Romanism were only different forms of the same superstition, the last fiber of which he meant to root out. We know well with what fa- 1 History of the Eighteenth Century, Vol. I. p. 62. e By Vinet (some of them were published iu the Semeur)* Comp. also the admirable representation of Bungener: Voltaire et son Temps; and respecting the Encyclopaedists, his Julien ou la Fin d'un Siecle. Geneva, 1854. Though fictions, these works are grounded entirely upon history and on the results of a thorough study of the proper sources. [Spirited English translations of both these works have appeared ; of the former Li 1854 (London), and of the latter in 1857 (London). — J. F. H.] 206 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. naticism he set about this work. He declared himself weary of hearing it boasted that twelve men had been able to plant Christianity throughout the world,— he would \ furnish proof that one was sufficient to destroy it.1 The first attack of Voltaire's pen on Christianity was his poetical epistle: Epitre a Uranie, published in 1728, just after his return from England. In this work he derided the Scriptural representations of the fall, original sin, redemp tion, and eternal punishment, as utterly irreconcilable with sound reason and all ideas of a merciful God. But dis tinctly as he here confesses his hostility to Christianity, he nevertheless eloquently announces in the same breath his faith in God, and the possibility of serving him without being a Christian. He thus avows his Deism, as distinguished from bald atheism. " Only a lunatic," says Voltaire, " can blas pheme God! I worship him. I am no Christian, but only because I can love God better without being one." Schiller afterwards said, in the same vein, that, from a religious standpoint, he acknowledged no positive religion. There was a time when men were disposed to keep the writings of Voltaire under bolts and bars, lest the very sight of them should bring the poison of unbelief to the souls of men. I believe, however, that I may now say with confidence that the books of Voltaire are at present much less danger ous than formerly to a moral and thoroughly cultivated per son, whatever his religious views be. Irrespective of religion and Christianity, the opinions of Voltaire on history, litera ture, and poetry, even admitting certain instances of spark ling wit and decided cleverness, evince a levity and shallow ness of judgment which can only repel the thoughtful and profound investigator; so that should any one attempt to attack Christianity with the weapons of science, he might sharpen his darts upon Voltaire's Latin but would not dream of borrowing his arms. Nevertheless, the opinions of Voltaire are held by a large class of people who have never read a word of his writings, and have no desire to wade through his seventy volumes. They imbibe his teachings from a thou- 1 Condorcet, Vie de Voltaire (Oeuvres, 1780. Tom. 70. p. 113). VOLTAIRE RE-ECHOED IN RECENT INFIDELITY. 207 sand sources, and reach his goal just as rapidly. But where is the propensity to adopt Voltaire's views the strongest at the present day? Certainly not among the people of real culture, nor men of science, nor scholars and philosophers, nor even such of them as have only the slightest claim to these names ; but among those who are barely half educated, who are not competent to form an opinion for themselves respecting divine things, and who, ashamed of a simple faith in the Bible, do not hesitate to swear by some newspaper, or slavishly range themselves under the banner of some party-leader. I am therefore satisfied that if we more nar rowly dissect much of the stuff talked about in these times as Straussianism, or advocated by the "Friends of Light," instead of revealing the impress of Strauss or of any critical school whatever, it wUl turn out to be the simple echo of Voltaire, whose decrepit philosophy, with a thin white-wash of German science, has returned to life in the lower classes, instead of ruling, as it used to do, the higher circles. If, for instance, it is an essential part of scientific culture to be able to transcend the Umits of one's own mind, his age, and his prejudices, and to pass into any other period, to share the mode of thought of by-gone generations, to be at home in the views of other nations, to pass with 'ease out of the every-day, prosaic world into the pure atmosphere of a poetic, ideal view of the world, as the most distinguished opponents of Christianity in the present day are so competent to do, then let it be remembered that in Voltaire we find nothing at all of this power. We see him making a vain display with his brilliant wit, writing rapid, off-hand notes on nature and history, and malting himself merry over the Bible, somewhat as a willful boy would do with a bird or a flower, washing off the beautiful enamel of the coloring with a reckless hand, and presenting to the eye a mere caricature ; or as if another boy, in a fit of sheer wantonness, should use his brush to put a moustache on a fine antique in order to procure a cheap laugh from his schoolmates. Just so did Voltaire devote himself to the art of disfiguring in the coars est and most ludicrous way the noblest forms of the Bible; 208 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. nor, when it suited his vein, did he spare the Son of Man himself. Everything in his hands was obliged to become a jest; everything must wear the grin which so shockingly disfigured his own face. We observe in Voltaire a certain keenness, and the skill to discover inequalities which others had innocently passed over. He has directed attention to many of these in the Bible; to many chronological, historical, and dogmatical difficulties not easily settled. Indeed, he has called attention to even par tial contradictions which have always given trouble to the commentators. The most of these, however, were not dis covered by him, but by Celsus, Porphyry, and the English Deists, from whom he borrowed them. But the things brought by these parties into serious debate were scattered thought lessly by Voltaire, the echo of Bolingbroke, in the street, be fore all eyes, to be trampled under rude feet. Take, for ex ample, his manner of dealing with the history of the creation. He made a great outcry about there having been four days before the sun was created. The creation of man in God's image, an idea suited as no other could be to lift the human consciousness out of the dust into dignity, was to him a proof that Moses had conceived of God as a human body; and he was shameless enough to add, that " cats would be likely to conceive of their gods as cats." Of the tree of the knowl edge of good and evil he makes the low and stupid remark, that "wine has been said to make men eloquent, though not learned, but that a tree should make a scholar is carrying the pleasantry a little too far!" Thus he goes on through the whole book, which he printed under the title of La Bible enfin Expliquee. We will not further examine it; but it is due to truth to say that Voltaire may have been induced by the age in which he lived, as well as by that which immedi ately preceded it, to believe religion to be a mere contrivance of the priests and a source of intolerance. Voltaire was him self brought up among the Jesuits, and received the scholastic dogmas of Rome along with the doctrines of the Bible, and the legends of the church with the Biblical history; and all these were stirred into a confused mass in his mind. With voltaire's idea of god. 209 him, the fall of one was the fall of both. He was destitute of the quiet understanding necessary for distinguishing these distinct elements; and we may add also that he lacked that simple uprightness and conscientiousness without which the attainment of truth is impossible. He knew Protestantism only from the stern, harsh side which it presented among the French Calvinists, and in this form it could win no favor from him. But the unfeeling and unimaginative man had no heart even for its more genial aspect, in the spirit of genuine Lutheranism. The selfishness and vanity of his nature pre vented his entering into the individuality of another. He would have religion; but it must be his rehgion. He some times praised the ethics of Christ, but at other times bitterly criticized them. On the other hand, he continually boasted of his faith in God. But what sort of a deity was the God of Voltaire? An elevated being, concerning whose existence reason is continuaUy in dispute with itself; an abstraction of the understanding, ever hanging high in the clouds, without heart, love, or distinct relations to the world and to man; a God who wiU only be sought and discovered by the under standing of the wise, but will not be found by the heart; who does not reveal himseU to men in history, and who still less enters into their little concerns and relations. This view is called Deism because it has only a God, a strange God, a Deus, as when the Athenians erected an altar to the "unknown God." It is sometimes called naturalism, because it permits God to be revealed only through the reg ular course of nature, and denies the possibility of an ex traordinary revelation which would carry man beyond the circle of visible things. This deistical, naturalistic mode of thought found in the eighteenth century an increasing number of followers, especially in France. It had two methods of rep resenting and advancing itself. One was the Voltairean, which was purely negative, turning into absolute ridicule whatever could not be viewed from a merely materiaUstic standpoint, and which necessarily proceeded from Deism to outspoken atheism. The other was a struggle of earnest souls deeply and painfully anxious to know and do whatever the 210 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. soul by its own powers was capable of. The former method was represented by the Encyclopaedists and their spiritual kindred; the latter by J. J. Rousseau. The Encyclopaedists were those French authors in the time of Voltaire who had formed the benevolent design of putting aU human science into one great comprehensive work, which would bring the whole range of knowledge down to the level of the popular capacity. Such works are good or evil according to the spirit animating the labor. The danger would lie in the liabiUty of both author and reader to rest in mere superficiary. The readers would be unable to test what might be presented, and must take it upon authority, while the authors would be tempted to abuse the unquestioning faith of the pubhc by retailing their crudities for the ripe fruits of wisdom. If the work should be written under the influence of some particular religious or irreligious tendency, the writers would be able, under the name and pretence of science, to give incalculable efficacy and spread to their opinions. The Jesuits formerly understood this plan of insinuating their doctrines into the minds of unsuspecting people by means of scientific instruc tion. It was now the turn of the so-caUed phUosophers to try it. The projectors of this work were Diderot and D'Alembert, and the title was Dictionnaire Universel et Raisonne des Connaissances Humaines. The first two volumes appeared in 1751. The intellectual tendency of these men, as with Voltaire, showed itseU not merely in religious matters but also in others. For example, if any one represents art as a mere imitator of nature, or is silly enough to imagine that music arose from the need of making a noise, and from that point went on to perfection, our judgment would award such a person a very slight insight into the mysteries of religion.1 Those philosophers had no conception of true philosophy, the withdrawing of the mind from what is merely sensuous and directing it to what is within. They were good mathemati cians, especially D'Alembert. But whatever went beyond time and space lay beyond their horizon. This is seen, for ex ample, in Diderot's Epistle on the Blind for the Benefit of 1 History of ihe Eighteenth Century, Vol. I. p. 342. CULMINATION OF DEISM IN ATHEISM. 211 those Who See, in which he concludes, from the lack of one sense, the inadequacy of all our conceptions. The argument might easily be turned against him, and he might be told, that when he discusses religion he is proving the adage: "A blind man is no judge of colors." The style of thought among the EncyclopEedists was also adopted by Helvetius and by the author of the Systeme de la Nature. Who the latter was, has been much disputed; generally, however, the credit has been given to Baron von Holbach. The contents of this book, which was published in 1770, transcend Voltaire. While Voltaire allowed the abstract idea of God to remain in his system, and on this account was taunted with super stition and a hankering after old prejudices, the Systeme de la Nature not only denied God as a personal being, but even the control of spirit over nature was denounced, and every thing conceived after the maddest materialism. Everything that we call spirit and spiritual action, such as right, free dom, honor, conscience, shame, and repentance, was explained as the mere effect and play of the senses. Helvetius enter tained similar opinions, deducing the noblest human actions from selfishness, which, in his opinion, was the only motive of human conduct; but this selfishness must be directed by prudence and forethought. Virtue, according to Helvetius, is merely to act in such a manner as to promote the ad vantage of the greatest number of people; and the only aim of morahty consists in bringing our own advantage into the best possible agreement with that of others. Deism had now culminated in complete atheism, and nat uralism in materiahsm. The fruits of this pretended philos ophy showed themselves only too soon. Not indeed that the loose mode of life, which, spreading in the higher circles and thence finding its way into the masses, was a mere re sult of these abstract theories. The theory came after the practice. Far back, even in the middle of the pious and bigoted age of Louis XIV., the principles enunciated by Hel vetius were faithfully copied into life. Now, however, these principles received, as it were, their sanction; philosophy fixed on them the stamp of its own evidence. It was quite. 212 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. remarkable that Baron von Holbach, a German born in the Palatinate, at whose house in Paris the noted free-thinkers were wont to assemble, who had even been charged with the authorship of the Systeme de la Nature, should have given his money for printing books of this class. It does not com port with our object to trace this movement throughout. We shall therefore pass over Condillac and others, and fix our attention upon Jean Jacques Rousseau, a man who accepted Deism in an earnest spirit, and who sought, with all the fanatical zeal of an earnest soul, to elevate and establish it as a religious conviction. While Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists, with their sym pathizers, had proceeded from the Catholic Church, Rousseau lies more in our pathway as having been born in Geneva, the maternal city of French Protestantism. His outward Ufe is sufficiently made known in his Confessions. This work in forms us, that although he was born and reared in the bosom of Protestantism, he went over to the Catholics; yet he returned again to the Reformed Church. After all, the system which he framed for himself was as far from the doctrines of Calvin as from the Romish catechism. In his denial of all historical and positive authority, and in his judgment on the credibility of the Bible and tradition, Rous seau agreed, for the most part, with Voltaire and the other Deists; but not as to what should be substituted for the things denied. At this point he distinctly opposed them, and soon broke off openly all friendship with them, and despised them as earnestly as they ridiculed him. Rousseau, the re publican, always rejected what they so extravagantly prized, — the glitter and glare of the world of fashion ; and while they expected the cure of the world's ills and the highest bloom of the century from science, intelligence, and art, he turned away from these to nature, to solitude, and almost to bar barism. It is noteworthy how remarkably the decided Deist and the strictest among the Pietists came to agreement here. They were one in their dread of the dangerous influence of science and high intellectual culture upon good morals, al- GENERAL VIEW OF ROUSSEAU'S OPINIONS. 213 though the influences which might be drawn from these prem ises might be very different in the two cases.1 While the great body of the French Deists were inclined to materialism, Rousseau was an out-and-out idealist; while they, with the Epicureans, regarded the refinement of enjoy ment as the destiny of man, Rousseau, with the Stoics, sought to make himself independent of the world's opinions, as also of every comfort and discomfort. True, this was little more than a theory ; for the Genevan philosopher, with all his hermit's life, made but little headway in the matter of self- conquest, on which Christianity insists more than Stoicism, though in a different way. What Christianity would- do by the love of men, he would secure by the hatred of men and a morose fanaticism. And with aU his struggles to be free from aU men, he stiU remained the slave of his own caprices and lusts. His own confessions and domestic life give- the clearest evidence of this. Still, as far as it is possible to honor a man's opinions apart from his Ufe, we must do Rousseau's opinions the jus tice to say that they came from a better heart than those of Voltaire and his friends, and that although they are not free from great errors, they are still much better suited to attract and inspire an earnest heart, devoted to the highest interests of humanity, than the sophisms of Holbach and Helvetius. Rousseau, in his Emile, has propounded a system of educa tion quite strange in some points, and in others quite worthy of attention. But he has given his religious creed in a work entitled: The Confessions of a Savoyard Vicar. However famihar these Confessions may be, we will take the liberty of recalling them, because they will enable us to see clearly the deistical faith as distinguished from atheism and ma terialism on the one side, and from positive Christianity on the other. In opposition to the materialists, Rousseau makes his vicar warmly and eloquently pronounce his faith in the spiritual nature of man, his high destiny, and a divine prov idence and government of the world. In Rousseau's view, 1 Comp. on this point the appropriate remark of Schlosser, History qf the Eighteenth Century, Vol. I. p. 291. Vol. I.— 15 214 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. a denier of God is a person destitute of a necessary sense; and While Diderot constitutes a man born blind the attorney of his unbelief, Rousseau rather compares the unbeliever to a deaf man, who sees the touch of the quivering strings but has no conception of the magic of the tones they call forth. According to Rousseau, man is free and responsible for his actions. Not God and nature, but he himself is the cause of his sufferings. Rousseau had already said in the smooth est French prose what Schiller has since said in German verse: "The world were everywhere complete Did not man's discords bring defeat." God, the eternal Good, can will only what is good. Man, be thou just and thou shalt be happy! Covet not the wages until thou hast wrought. God is not in thy debt. In another world all wiU be adjusted. Only let the separation of soul and body destroy the contradiction in your nature, and the riddle is solved. — Rousseau thus believed in the freedom and immortality of the soul, and in a future world, which the materialists of all ages have derided. With the Platonists, he regarded the union of the soul with the body as unnatural ; the soul is in a prison out of which she shall be delivered; then, for the first time, will she breathe the air of heaven, when she strips off the bond of the flesh and rises to the home of the spirit. To infer the destruction of the soul from that of the body, as the materialists do, would only be just if the two were so intimately and indissolubly united as they assume. The soul, however, is the true Ego, on which the body hangs and weighs as a heavy burden; and hence man only half lives while he dwells in the body, and the true life first dawns in the region where the liberated Psyche has the free use of her pinions. We cannot speak definitely of the mode of our future existence. The highest happiness for which the rational soul can wish, and which is superior to all rewards, is to know God and live according to its own nature. Moreover, we bear in us, even here, the judgment of our deeds. The conscience, the law of nature which God THE NATURALISM IN ROUSSEAU'S CONFESSIONS. 215 has not withheld from even the most barbarous people, and which indeed is often less corrupted among them than among the educated and miseducated, is the heavenly light, the safe leader, which we must ever follow on our dark pathway of earth. Through the conscience we lift ourselves to God and grow like him. Conscience lifts us above the diffuse studies of the moralists, and relieves us from the wordy strifes of the philosophers. All, however, are not acquainted with this inward voice; indeed, all are not willing to know it, for it is a soft and tender voice, and easily drowned. But it is sure to revive again, and challenge to combat, without which there is no virtue. And this battle is a pre rogative of man, of which even the dreaming angel of his chUdhood and innocence must envy him. These are the teachings of the so-called natural religion put by Rousseau into the mouth of the Savoyard vicar, in pure opposition to the theory which ascribes everything to chance, to the impressions of sense, and to selfishness. God, freedom, and immortality, with Rousseau, as with all the Deists with whom we are yet to meet, form the holy triad of the creed of reason. And who would not rather accept such a faith as this than that comfortless theory which de grades man to the level of the brute? Another question arises, however: Whether, this faith secures us all that posi tive Christianity gives to its confessors; indeed, whether without Christianity and without revelation in general such a natural religion would be conceivable; whether these prin ciples, laid down with such positiveness and heartiness, are not, after all, a mere echo of the Christian truth which: Rousseau had learned in his youth without a comprehension, of its innermost nature and connection? It is not possible in this place to enter into a full exami nation of Rousseau's opinions. We wish, however, to call attention to one point, — the connection between soul and body. Rousseau .regards this relation as unnatural, and hopes every thing from the breaking up of this repellent and damaging union. In this view he stands opposed to both materialists. and orthodox Christians. Both hold here, in opposition to 216 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the idealists, to a real connection between soul and body, that they belong together, as experience demonstrates, but with this important difference: the materialist infers from the death of the natural body that of the soul, while the Christian believes that our whole being is divinely permeat ed, and that our whole spirit, soul, and body will be pre served to the coming of the Lord, to the day of the resur rection (1 Thess. v. 23.) After laying down his naturalistic faith the vicar comes to, speak of revelation, Here, top, we find a very different tone from that of Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists. It is as if all the recollections of his early Christian and Protestant training revived in his soul, and drew from him a confession even against his own will. His words concerning Christ are well known. He compares him with Socrates; but, says he, " What a difference between the son of Sophroniscus and the son of Mary! Socrates dies honored, — in the midst of his friends, in the circle of his disciples, amid quiet talk, — the gentlest death a man could wish. Jesus dies in pain, despised, ridiculed, execrated by all the people, the most terrible death a man can fear. Socrates blesses the man who presented with tears the cup of poison; Jesus, while suffering the most dreadful agonies, prays for his exulting executioners. Yes, U the life and death of Socrates were the life and death of a sage, Jesus lived and died like a god!" Rousseau was fully convinced of the historical reality of these things. Such a thing, he says, could not have been invented. The history of Socrates is to him less credible than this one. To attempt a denial of it is only to entangle one's self in new difficulties. "It is more inconceivable," says Rousseau, " that a number of persons should combine to invent such a narrative than that one should have furnished the material by an actual life. The Jewish writers were strangers to this tone, and never invented this morahty. The gospel has such striking features of truth, and is so exquisitely inimitable, that the inventor would be a greater wonder than the hero." But now comes the other side. Even this gospel, on the other hand, in so full of things THE MYSTICAL FEATURE OF ROUSSEAU'S OPINIONS. 217 incredible and repellent to reason that a man of sense can not accept them. Here Rousseau knew no other course than modesty and reserve, an entire renunciation of all expecta tion of certainty; we should neither wish to reject nor com prehend all, but humbly commit the final solution of the riddle to that Infinite Being who alone is in possession of truth. This hanging in doubt, as Rousseau assures us, had for him nothing painful or disturbing.- His faith in these eternal natural truths remained the same, and so also did his rever ence for the person of Christ, although his acceptance of revelation as such was impossible. He regarded all particular religions as so many saving institutions for man, which, according to climate and similar circumstances, were especi ally adapted to the different nations. With him, the great matter was, that every man shall follow his religion and his conscience. The true worship is not merely that of genius; far from it, but that of the heart. The heart may come into play in every outward form, and in all such forms may be stow blessings. Hence the Catholic vicar confesses, that since he found this heart-faith he has celebrated the mass with a higher devotion than ever. Everything now has life and meaning for him; in his hands all things become a symbol and expression of an ineffable feeling. In everything he is now zealous in his office, — loving, patient, modestr, prosperous, and satisfied. In these ideas Rousseau agreed with the Mystics; for ex ample, with one Poiret, who, even with the most ardent zeal for God, looked upon indifference to the outer forms of worship and the letter of the creed as not only to be toler ated, but as necessary.1 We must not forget, however, that the vicar was a creation of the writer, developed in a ro mance as the imagination felt inclined. But how such a relig ion, breaking away from all history, and rooting itself only in the feelings of the individual heart, would answer for real life, especially for a priest in his relations to the people, and for a particular church, we have as little conception of as we 1 Comp. Hagenbach's Vorlesungen, Part IV. p. 313 ff. 218 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. have of the state which Rousseau constructs, or of the house hold as he establishes it in connection with the education of his Emile. In a word, Rousseau's religion, like that of all Deists, lacks the idea of communion which binds men together in faith and love; it lacks the powerful undergirding of his tory, without which communion is impossible, — as impossible as children without parents from whom to spring. This religion of the Savoyard stands forth isolated, like Rousseau on the island on which he dwelt; it has no root in general life, and must perish. It cannot suffice even for the individual, be cause no individual has the right to tear himseU away from the community, and to present himself as a divinely privUeged person to whom alone God has intrusted the deepest secrets. What happened to so many Mystics, who shut themselves up in their religious feelings, also took place with Rousseau; in the midst of fanatical feeling he lacked moral persistence; and therefore we must fall back upon his own Ufe, which, like a worm-bitten stalk of grain, went no further than the gay blossom of a mere opinion. By his Confessions, Rousseau drew upon himself perse cution from Catholics and Protestants. The Archbishop of Paris, Christopher Beaumont, issued against it a Pastoral Letter in 1762, and the Parliament of Paris had it burnt. The Government of Geneva gave it a similar treatment. Rousseau was compelled to flee from his native city, but did not fail to discharge from his place of banishment, Moutiers- Travers, sharp arrows against his persecutors. In his Letter to M. Beaumont (Works, Vol. XI), he attacked with the fier cest insolence the archbishop, who had challenged him as an ungodly man, worthy only to be detested. He hurled back this reproach on "those who were setting themselves in the judgment-seat of God, and who must one day give an account to the Eternal Judge for their malicious efforts to destroy others." He denounced the archbishop as a slanderer, whom he would bring, if the former were a private man, before the tribunal of the law; but he knew only too well that his high position as a prelate lifted him above the obligations of justice. He would therefore hand him over to public contempt. rousseau's view of doctrines and morals. 219 Against the government of Geneva he launched his Letters from the Mountain {Works, Vol. XII.), which are written in a very excited tone, and in which, at the same time, he enters still further into his religious doctrines. "I distin guish," says he, "two things in religion: namely, the doc trines and morals; but in regard to doctrines, I distinguish again between that which gives support to morals and that which is purely speculative." His understanding by the latter just the pecuhar Christian doctrines, which he undertook to separate as non-essential, and in many respects injurious, arises from his whole argu mentation, and from his constant declamation against " super stition," which stupefies nations and retards the progress of human civilization. He spoke with special vehemence against the orthodoxy of the state, and undoubtedly touched here many of the sore spots which have been since discovered by other eyes. He also expatiated very freely on miracles, and openly confessed, that if others beUeved the gospel be cause of miracles, he believed it in spite of miracles, for these miracles are, at the present stage of civilization, rather a hindrance to faith than a means for its advancement. He presented the moral excellence pf the gospel, its pure morals, with special warmth. Both his Letter to the Archbishop and his Letters from the Mountain were publicly burnt in Paris in 1765. But the burning of these works proved nothing. Writings must be refuted by writings, and the greatest impression is produced by those works which proceed from a standpoint not too far removed from that of the opponent, or by writings which oppose him with his own weapons. A work of that valiant German, Justus Moser of Osnabruck, entitled, To the Vicar in Savoy, to be had of J. J. Rousseau, had more in fluence upon the great pubUc mind than many theological criticisms, though there was no dearth of the latter.1 In this work the unpractical character of a merely natural religion was portrayed with plain mother-wit from the point 1 Dated the 2nd of November, 1762, and reprinted in 1771 ; see his Vermischte Schriften, published by Nicolai, Berlin, 1797. Vol. I. ,p. 116 ff. 220 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of view taken by a man of statesmanlike shrewdness. "It is," says Moser, " of the utmost importance for the good of society that man attend to his devotions, and through them become prepared for good affections, holy fear, and necessary stabUity. It is of the greatest necessity to have certain fortified articles of faith, which comfort the unfortunate, restrain the fortunate, humble the proud, bend kings, and keep tradesmen within limits." From this very moderate idea of reUgion, such as even Bolingbroke and Hume would have shared, the author further argues that it is impossible for the rough masses to be affected by the preaching of mere nature. "The preach ing of God's works," says he, among other things, " that we have daily before our eyes, is like the singing of a canary- bird, which its possessor has long since ceased to hear, though it sounds plain enough to a stranger who happens to be in the room." By such means Moses would have ac comphshed nothing with his " brick-makers." But natural re ligion is not only insufficient for those classes which are usually called the "populace." "We are all populace, and God has done better in putting a bridle on our soul instead of on our nose ; for at least in one place, I think, it was very necessary for us, in order to be led to certain ends. Our religion was made for us populace, and not for angels.'' The sentiment that "men can be saved in aU reUgions" will never awaken great zeal in religion, but stifles in the very germ all cate chetical instruction. What would a lazy boy think if he were saluted at the outset with this supposition? It is just as impractical to deny endless punishment, but it is as impolitic to degrade the respectability of the clergy. He must maintain this not as a theologian, but as a jurist. "I have weighed the diseases of great civil compacts," says the experienced lawyer, "whether they are called monarchies, aristocracies, democracies, or tyrannies, and I have concluded that a reveal ed reUgion has always been necessary and salutary to them, In addition to this I have found that the Christian reUgion is perfectly sufficient for all purposes which God can have for man; and I draw therefrom this conclusion, that we act foolishly in weakening or breaking so perfect a bond." MARY HUBER. 221 Thus far Moser. But U we now return to the deistical efforts of the century, we shall find that the charm of pro ducing a pecuhar religion of the heart in a mystical or deistical way was widely propagated at the time, and evinced itself as a counter-charm to the earlier orthodoxy which had grown rigid in ordinances. There was a wish to throw off at once the bonds of positive religion, and beyond the commu nicated and historical phases of religion to acquire a free and open standpoint. And in this effort we find even women included. Many years before Rousseau, Mary Huber, a woman born in Geneva but living in Lyons, had, in her Letters on the Nature of Religion (first published in 1738), and in her other writings, reduced rehgion merely to the moral neces sities of the human heart, in which revelation appeared to her only as the support of natural religion, merely an exter nal means, or a sort of lever to bring it to consciousness.1 The natural religion which is given to us in the conscience is the beginning and end of all religions, and it is man's task to arrive at its free possession.2 He can be aided to it by so-caUed revelation, that is, the manifestation of it under a historicaUy given form. But it only reaches its end when it develops, incites, and trains, and, so to speak, when it labors to make itseU unnecessary ; for a teacher would be of as Uttle aid in advancing his pupil by placing in his hands tasks already performed, as a revelation can be of any aid to man for his inward peace and his true blessedness by merely consisting of prepared precepts and doctrines. God stands in no need of the service of men, nor of any reverence on their part. Eternally blessed in himself, he wishes only the blessedness of his creatures. All reUgion is directed to this end. God cannot be insulted by man; the immoral man in sults only himself, for he degrades himself. Therefore God 1 Lettres sur la Beligion essentielle a V Homme, distingude de ce qui n'en est que Vaccessoire. New Ed. 2 vols. London, 1739; and Suite sur la Bel. essentielle a V Homme, servant de Biponse aux Objections qui ont 6t4 fakes a VOuvrage, qui porta ce Titre. 3rd Part. London, 1739. 2 We need only call to mind the Conscientious Party, which existed in the seventeenth century. See Vorlesungen, Vol. IV. p. 464. 222 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. cannot be angry, nor eternally punish. No service of another or of ourselves can make us acceptable to him, but everything that we have is a gift of his free grace, or, to speak more simply, of his good will toward men. This truth is also the pith of Scriptural doctrine and of Christianity, but we must separate the kernel from the shell, and keep to the former alone . Thus far Mary Huber. And who must not confess that this mild and pure religion, breathing love and good will, is always pleasing when compared with the cold and condem natory orthodoxy with which the authoress had to deal in her day? If we look once more at the systems just considered, we cannot overlook the fact that in all of them there was evinced a greater or less effort to substitute what was seU-experienced and self-felt for mere history and tradition, something taking its origin from within for that which is outwardly commanded. Only the manner of procedure is very different. In Boling broke and Voltaire we became acquainted with a Deism which, with the contempt for and sometimes derision of Chris tianity, recognized the necessity of a Supreme Being, the high est thought, as it were, but without motion toward man or Uving relation to his heart. It was a mere Deism of the under standing, degenerated with the Encyclopaedists, the author of the Systeme de la Nature, and Helvetius, into bald atheism and materialism. But in Huber and Rousseau, on the con trary, there is manifested a Deism of feehng, which in many respects sympathizes with Christianity, while in others again it opposes it. But all these different tendencies that arose after the middle of the century gained increasing support from the cultivated circles of the European world. People had grown weary of the old conflict between Catholicism and Protestantism, and orthodoxy and Pietism. The hostile parties had exposed themselves on all hands during then: conflicts, and what wonder that there should finally arise a disposition to have something new and satisfactory? And it is remarkable that the existing ecclesiastical forms in those lands where the deistical tendency first struck root furnished the least edifi- DEISM GENERAL IN ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 223 cation. Neither the High Church of England, nor the Cath oUc clergy of France at that day, which had no more Bossuets and Fenelons to present, could make a dam against the stream of the times. Even the Puritanism beyond the English Chan nel and the Jansenism on this side of it, were exhausted, and French Protestantism was destitute of great minds. Even the theology of Geneva at the time of Mary Huber and Rous seau was no more what it used to be. The mild, yielding manner of Osterwald and Turretin could not grow in the current; indeed, the loosened earth was torn away here and there, and carried off by it. Hence it came to pass that the whole tendency now controlling the literature of both France and England became more or less drawn into the same stream. Pope, Swift, and Addison propagated principles in poetry, satire, and light periodical literature which were increasingly regarded as the leading forces of the upper classes of society. History, which Bossuet had treated from a very partial theological and theocratical standpoint, was construed and written for a great and susceptible public, in England by Hume and in France by Montesquieu, from al together different points of view.1 The free judgment, cast ing itself- loose from previous authority and indulging in bold and rare assertions, now became a part of the culture of a free man; and even where the old authority remained, it was weakened and perforated, presenting the appearance of a loose sieve, a dead weight without spring or any power of locomotion. In Germany there existed a more substantial kernel of positive Christianity than elsewhere, as we have seen from the history of Pietism in the previous lectures. Yet the partial nature of Pietistic theology was not everybody's affair, and the sundering of the church into smaller sects and par ties indicated a prostrated condition. Also in Germany great ecclesiastical personages were rare phenomena, and thus, through the influence which foreign literature in general ac quired, Deism pressed through the seams and cracks of the 1 Yet even this method of treatment has its grand feature; comp. Niebuhr, Vortrage iiber alte Geschichte, p. 5. 224 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. whole structure thus badly held together. Indeed, even in dependently of the more positive foreign influence, Deism grad ually strove to make its way in Germany. Many Mystics secretly indulged the thought that a historical revelation was superfluous, or at least insufficient. Thus Conrad Dippel had connected with his Mysticism a critical acuteness in relation to the Bible and its doctrines ; and in one of his disciples, John Christian Edelmann, who appeared about the middle of the eighteenth century, the incipient mystical tendency, such as had taken place in connection with the Inspired, became com pletely perverted to outspoken Deism. Edelmann, the son of a musician in the royal private band, born at Weissenfels, 1698, studied theology at Jena after 1720, subsequent to which time he filled a number of po sitions as private tutor. He first united with the Pietists, and even became connected with Zinzendorf, but then finally united with the Inspired in Berleburg, and labored in the preparation of the Berleburg Bible. But being driven out from the Pietists and the Inspired, he adopted the opposite extreme. In his writings, Moses with the Covered Face, and Christ and Belial, he opposed the authority of the Bible, and sought to substitute for it the light of reason, whose divinity he sought to prove in a special work. It is remarkable that he adduced his proof from the Bible itself, translating the introduction of the Gospel of John, "In the beginning was the Word (the Logos)," by, "In the beginning was the Reason." After being driven from Berleburg he fre quently changed his place of abode. We find him in Frank fort, Brunswick, Hamburg, and Altona; he died, 1767, in BerUn. Edelmann's writings, which were burnt in Frankfort by imperial order in the year 1749, have long been forgotten, and we only recall them here because of the connection.1 1 I have not had at hand either the writings of Edelmann or the monograph of Pratje on him (Hamburg, 1755). On his outward • life, I have compared Adelung, Geschichte der menschlichen Narrheit, Vol. I. p. 46 ff.— Since then there have appeared the following: Elster, Er innerungen an Edelmann, in Bezug auf Strauss (Klausthal, 1839), and the Autobiography of Edelmann, published by W. Klose, Berlin, 1849. Comp. also an article in Herzog's Beal-Encycl. entitled Edelmann. FREDERICK THE GREAT. 225 The case is quite different with the man under whose pro tection Edelmann spent his last years without opposition and in peace. It is Frederick the Great who appears before us as the champion of Voltaire's skepticism in Germany, and as we have already made use of the picture of his father, Fred erick WUUam I., in order to see in him the reflection of the old orthodox period, so, in the next lecture, shall Frederick the Great and his age serve us as the foundation for the picture of the times which we are now about to sketch. LECTURE XI. FREDERICK THE GREAT AND HIS TIMES. — FREDERICK'S YOUTH. — TOLERANCE AND INTOLERANCE. — ANECDOTES. — THE BER LIN FRENCHMEN AND LA ME TTRIE. — MOVEMENT IN GERMAN LITERATURE. — TENDENCY TO POETRY AND SATIRE. — EAB- ENER. — SEPARATION OF RELIGIOUS AND SECULAR POETRY. — GLEIM. — WIELAND. Having considered Frederick William I. as the represent ative of his times, and having placed him before us in the early part of the last century as a personage of great power, we must now turn our attention to his son, Frederick IL, who was crowned with greener laurels, and indeed the only Fred erick whom history has called really great. It is not the hero of the Silesian War, nor the conqueror at Molwitz, Ross- bach, and Leuthen whom we are regarding, but the philos opher of Sans Souci, the friend of Voltaire, the author, and the king, — so far as his authorship and his government extended to religion and the church. We must confine our selves strictly within these limits, or we shall be led too far away from our aim. With all our efforts at limitation, how ever, we dare not pass over the youth of Frederick, inas much as it gives us the key to his later life. This substan tiates the recent statement of a preacher in Berlin, that "the ship was so heavily laden with religious ballast that it could riot fail in after times to sink."1 In the history of his father we have treated young Fred erick's earlier training, or the plan designed for it. We re- 1 Erman, in Preuss, Jugendgeschichte Friedrich's des Grossen, p. 18. FREDERICK THE GREAT'S INTELLECTUAL TASTE. 227 call the military devotions required of him, the orthodox leading- strings in which his young spirit was early attempted to be restrained. To complete that picture I may add that the prince was often compelled by the command of his father to commit to memory penitential psalms and sections out of the catechism, as a matter of punishment, — a proceeding which did not meet the approval of his teacher. We now leave behind us the boy Fritz, for whom these well-meant parental directions were intended, and look into the fiery eye of the aspiring young man. We regard him with quite a different glance from that which his royal father was disposed to cast upon him, who saw in him a mere weakling, "a fifer and a poet," as unfit for war as for a throne. This decided the feelings of his father against him. He upbraided him because he would not share with him the joys of the chase and the smoking-room. He called him " a selfish mad-cap, who was hostile to his father, an effeminate fellow who had no human desires." He abused him as a proud, high-minded, unfriendly and unhappy being; and he did this even after the crown-prince had written him a very humble letter, and had assured him of his filial love and regard. We have already seen how Frederick William I. stood in relation to such science as had no direct relation to life. And his son was to be reared according to these principles. But young Frederick early showed a very decided suscepti bility for everything relating to culture, taste, and intellectual advancement; and herein he sympathized with his sister, the Princess Wilhelmina, afterward Marchioness of Baireuth. He selected his associates according to his own taste. The flute-player Quandt and Lieutenant von Katte were among his intimate friends. The latter came to a tragical fate, with which affair the prince was very closely connected. Fred erick, smarting under the continual and even public ill treat ment of his father, attempted to make his escape to England. Von Katte aided him in this effort; and the journey of Frederick William I. to the Rhine region, in which young Frederick accompanied him, was designed to be the occasion for its execution. By some mismanagement the plan was 228 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. discovered. The crown-prince was seized, and his father, in his first transport of rage, was on the point of slaying him, and would have accomplished his purpose had not an officer thrown himself between them with the words, " Sire, stab me, but spare your son ! " Frederick and Von Katte were brought before a court-martial. The court declined to decide respect ing the heir to the throne. Lieutenant von Katte was con demned to expulsion from the military service, and sentenced to perpetual imprisonment. But the king regarded this sen tence too mUd. He wrote to the court-martial, that it was not his custom to intensify sentences, but in this case he must hold to the maxim: Fiat justitia et pereat mundus. For the sake of law and justice, Von Katte deserved to be torn to pieces with red-hot pincers, and to be hung upon a gibbet ; but in consideration of the respectability of his family he should be put to death with the sword. It was painful to the king, as he alleged, but it was a great deal better he should die than that justice should take its departure ' from the world. The crown-prince, however, who was with him in the prison at Kustrin, must "be a witness of the manner in which his friend's head should fall." Von Katte was executed on the 6th of November, 1730. He was twenty-two years of age at the time, and Frederick two years younger. The latter remained in strict confinement, according to his father's severe order. He was carefully guarded, and the guard were made responsible for his safety: under the penalty of losing their heads. He had very scanty living; no inter course with the outside world was allowed; even ink and pen were denied him; and there was but little prospect of im provement in his wretched condition. His father felt great concern for the soul of the prisoner. The Lutheran chaplain, Miiller, received an order to explain to him the Word of God, and to urge him to repentance for his sins. Frederick gave attention to the admonition of his spiritual guide. Still, he could not refrain from disputing with the Lutheran preacher concerning the Lord's Supper, and from taking the Reformed side of the controversy on predestination. The preacher did not fail to boast of the penitential state of the prince's mind, '.¦a FREDERICK THE GREAT'S MARRIAGE. 229 and thus the heart of the father was gradually softened. "God, the Almighty," he wrote to the preacher, "grant his blessing; and inasmuch as by his wonderful trials he has ever brought man into the kingdom of Christ, so may our Savior lend his help that this disobedient son may be brought back to fellowship with me; that his ungodly heart may be broken, softened, and renewed; and that he may be torn from the claws of Satan ! May the Almighty God, the Father, help, for the sake of the sufferings and death of his Son Jesus Christ! Amen." Upon young Frederick's unreservedly taking an oath pre scribed by his father, he was released from his severe im prisonment. He sealed his oath publicly by partaking of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Still, he remained at Kiist rin under mUitary supervision and spiritual direction. The dafly prayers continued morning and evening, by the direction of the king. Besides this, the prince was to be trained in such practical sciences as rural economy, and the like. It was not until after almost a year that he was permitted to leave the place of his confinement, whieh took place upon the occasion of the marriage of the Princess Wilhelmina with the hereditary Prince of Baireuth; and soon after, on the 12th of June, 1733, he himself was married. As the union with the Princess Elizabeth of Brunswick-Bevern was from motives of political convenience, a sincere attachment was known not to exist between the married couple. In the market-town of Rheinsberg, in the district of Bran denburg, whither the king ordered him, the crown-prince led a life entirely suited to his taste. He gathered together artists and scholars; he saw distinguished strangers; and in this circle, in which there ruled quite a different tone from that of the Tobacco College of his father, he felt extremely happy. The time not devoted to society was given to his studies. He wrote on the 10th of February, 1738: "I am more then ever buried among my books. I am earnestly pursuing the time which I lost by my carelessness in youth, and I want, as far as I am able, a store of knowledge and truth." Vol. I.— 16 230 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. How very different the crown-prince regarded learned men from his father, is clearly seen in his letters to Rollin, in which, among other things, he says: "I regard you and other learned men as the stars which must enlighten us in all sci ences, and as the men who think for us while we act for them. Your calling gives to you the right to instruct sovereigns; you can urge them with the voice of truth, which hypocrisy usually excludes from the throne." l At another time he wrote to Al- garotti, an Italian: "I regard the men of intellect as so many seraphs, in comparison with the mean and contemptible mul titude who do not think. They are the bloom of humanity!" In his retirement, the crown-prince devoted himseU to the study of the Wolfian Philosophy; and about this time he be gan his correspondence with Voltaire, sending him a trans lation of the Charge and Defence of Wolf, and seeking to enlist the sympathy of the French philosopher for the per secuted German. Voltaire naturally felt flattered by the ad vances of the crown-prince ; while Frederick's respect for the poet and philosopher increased every day. " There is nothing we want in Rheinsberg," he wrote to Voltaire, "in order to make us perfectly happy but Voltaire. Your picture adorns my Ubrary; it hangs over the case which contains our Golden Fleece, directly above your works, and opposite the spot where I sit, that I may have you always in my eye." Indeed, he writes still further, in 1739 : " There is only one God and one Voltaire in the world; and God sent Voltaire in order to make this century perfect." "If I were a heathen," he says further, " I would worship you under the name of Apollo ; were I a Jew, I would perhaps confound you with the royal prophet and with his son; if I were a papist, I would have chosen you for my guardian angel, and have made you my father-confessor. But since I am none of these, I must be satis fied by philosophically honoring and admiring you as a great philosopher, loving you as a poet, and revering you as a friend." 1 In Preuss, p. 238. The other passages cited from letters are also derived from this source. In regard to the latter information on Fred erick IL, I have, besides this work, adhered chiefly to Busching, or to expressions in Frederick's correspondence. Frederick's idolatry of voltaire. 231 This language, which reminds us very much of what is called in our times the "worship of genius," and from which the Christian heart very properly turns away in disgust, in deed, which we do not treat unjustly if we declare it wicked and idolatrous, can only be understood and excused on the score of the early history of the crown-prince. It is the youthful superciliousness, which, freed from its fetters, stamps the earth and shakes its mane like a wild steed, when, hav ing escaped from the stable in which it was confined, it snuffs the free morning air. Frederick saw in Voltaire an idol; but beyond this idol he unconsciously worshipped the unknown God, the spirit of the new age, — an age which he himself aided in bringing on, and which has been able to struggle into the clear consciousness of its own character only through a thousand battles. It was perfectly manifest that things must change from what they were in the time of Frederick William I. But Frederick could neither know nor divine what change for the better should take place. He himself served as an instrument in a High Hand. We must not, however, assign to the crown-prince at this time a hostile position to positive Christianity, notwithstanding his imaginary worship of genius. Rather, he hoped to be able to reach his ideal of intellectual liberty, enlightenment, and human welfare, which, even before his eye, were within the limits of pure Christianity. He honored the clergy, and wished to be taught by them the mysteries of faith. He confessed^ indeed, to the Preacher of the French Colony, Achard, that he was so un happy as to have a weak faith, but that he was therefore the more to be confirmed by means- of sound arguments and striking proofs. He acknowledged in -particular, as all the better class of Deists did, his high regard for Christian morals.1 He was also so stirred by a sermon of the aged Isaac de Beausobre, a learned and thoughtful theologian of the Colony of Refugees, that he gave the worthy old man especial marks 1 It is remarkable that he once requested this preacher, whom he esteemed also because of his favorable judgment of Voltaire, to preach on the text: "But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stum bling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness." 232 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of his favor. In like manner he honored Provost Reinbeck, who had also been greatly respected by his father. Besides, he read with much pleasure the works of many of the famous Protestants of that time, especially those of the French pul pit-orators, Flechier, Bossuet, Massillon, Bourdaloue, and the Reformed preacher, Saurin. In these cases, however, it was merely human oratory, the logical understanding, and the moral and general religious character, which commanded his respect. What was pecuh- arly Christian, as Protestantism had disclosed it at the time of the Reformation, and as Pietism had presented it more exclusively as the one thing needful, though often under un easy forms, could not satisfy his comprehensive and cosmopol itan intellect, struggling for a universal view. The time had not yet arrived when a comprehension of real Christianity and pure humanity, in their wider sense, could come to a Uving consciousness in the soul. At the time of the death of the old Protestant orthodoxy, an earnest spirit like that of Frederick was restricted almost entirely to a choice be tween narrow Pietism and the philosophical religion of Deism. Half-way measures were foreign to his nature, and a higher middle ground was not his calling. He was a soldier, not a theologian. The longer he struggled the more he tended to Deism, and had already decided for it when he succeeded to the throne of his father. Frederick the Great, in the meantime, had a true and just conception of the position which he was to take among Prot estant princes as a scion of the House of Brandenburg. When, in 1750, he removed the remains of his ancestors to the crypt of the new cathedral, he ordered the coffin of the Great Elector to be opened; and, seizing the hand of the dead man, he bedewed it with tears, remarking to those standing near him, "Messieurs! He did a great work!" In deed, he had done a great work for the Christian church. And though we cannot say this with as much emphasis re specting his great-grandson, yet we cannot regard the abun dance of the work which he did in a still wider sphere as unconnected with the history of evangelical Protestantism. FREDERICK THE GREAT'S SERVICE TO PROTESTANTISM. 233 So far as we consider this work, — not only in its positive, doctrinal, and theological character, but also in its negative, and especiaUy in its political character, — as a counterpoise to the CathoUc powers of Europe, Frederick's position in the history of Germany and of the worid was thoroughly Protest ant. Was it not he who, against anti-Protestant Austria, placed the Prussian monarchy at the head of Protestantism in Germany, and enabled it to extend practical aid and pro tection to Protestants ? Without him, who can tell how mat ters would now stand! But, besides this, it must be mentioned in his praise that he labored earnestly for intellectual liberty and tolerance; that, for example, he removed the rack and other cruelties from the administration of justice, and cor rected many abuses in the government; that he restored the banished Wolf to his professor's chair at Halle; and with Wolf, restored philosophy again to its rights. All these are benefits of which the history of Protestantism can only speak with pride. Of course, we do not deny the injury which his unecclesiastical and unchristian mode of thought effected through the influence which a man of high position always exercises upon his times. But these injuries were temporary, and were afterward repressed by opposite tendencies, while the victories which God gave him, and many of his noble and wise institutions in the state, still remain. For these, we are and should be thankful. And the principle which he uttered at the conclusion of his History of Brandenburg was a beautUul one, and worthy of. Protestantism: "False zeal for religion is a tyrant which depopulates the land; tolerance is a tender mother who cherishes and makes it bloom." Guided by this fundamental principle, he gave himseU to the work. The great aim 'of the king was universal liberty of con science. Frederick William I., in his time, displeased the Lutheran clergy by forbidding them to put on the cope, or burn candles upon the altar, etc. He did this to promote union. But Frederick II. , on the contrary, just after his ascension to the throne, on the 3rd of July, 1740, issued a cabinet-order to the Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, in which 234 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. he gave liberty to the churches and the clergy to select a form for divine services to suit themselves. For this the Lutheran clergy praised him as a second Solomon. He showed the same tolerance toward the Catholics. In June of the same year an order was given for founding a school special ly for the children of the Roman Catholic soldiers. He wrote on the margin of the order: "All the religions must be tolerated, and the attorney-general must keep his eye open that none of these injure the other ; for, in this country, every one must be saved in his own fashion." Indeed, he granted to the Catholics much greater liberty than they had ever before enjoyed, not only in Berlin and Potsdam but throughout Prussia. Under his protection the Catholic Church in Berlin, modeled after the Maria Rotunda in Rome, was completed, and is still an ornament to the city. When the question of appointing a Professor of Medicine at Frank fort on the Oder was broached, the candidate's orthodoxy was called in question. It was alleged not only that he was a CathoUc, but that he was a Jesuit at heart; and this was attempted to be thrown in the way of his appointment, be cause the old statutes of the University, of the year 1610, required the appointment of a Protestant. The king wrote on the margin of his order : " No matter about that, if he is competent. The doctors are, moreover, too good physicists to have any faith." Notwithstanding all this, Frederick did not misunderstand his obligations to Protestantism; and in one of his cabinet- orders he commanded that the rural magistrates "should seldom be CathoUcs." He required that the Catholics and Protestants should be mutually tolerant. In an order written in the year 1756 to the Prince von Schafgotsch, Bishop of Breslau, he directed that in the churches and cloisters of Breslau all controversial preaching should be stopped for the future. The tolerance of the king, however, went even further than this. He granted to the Greek Christians at Breslau a church; and he bestowed the same favor on the Unitarians in Lithuania and East Friesland. In 1742 he permitted the foUowers of Schwenkfeld, formerly driven out of Silesia, to FREDERICK THE GREATS TREATMENT OF SECTS. 235 return; and he laid no hindrance in the way of the Mora vians or any other religious society.1 All that he required was, that they should be quiet, and refrain from proselyting. His fundamental principle, according to which the authorities \Yere required to act in all cases, was this : " They must take care not to put it. into the heads of the sects that they are of so much importance that it is necessary to bring them back from their errors by means of force; for the experience of aU ages has taught, that if people fall into the most ridic ulous errors, and the attempt is made to bring them back by persecution and compulsion, they only become the more opinionated and fanatical, and by this means come to believe that there must be something really valuable in their sect, otherwise the effort would not be made to coerce them. On the contrary, where such people and their sects have been treated as though they were scarcely worthy of attention, a people deserving rather of pity than hatred, while at the same time the heads of the sects were required to leave the country and the remainder treated as subjects and citizens, they generally became ashamed of their folly. Those who had been banished would return, or at any rate make no impression upon others, receive no accession to their numbers, and, finally unnoticed, cease altogether." Entirely in opposi tion to the course which we ourselves pursued about this time toward the separatists, the king, in the year 1743, when a carpenter in Berlin was accused of having held private prayer- meetings, gave this answer: "If he does nothing beyond this against the law of the land and good morals, let him go ahead."2 Notwithstanding this, the meetings of dissenters were afterward prohibited. 1 To the aforementioned Mystic, Tersteegen, who had said some sharp things to him in his work entitled, Thoughts on the Works of the Phi losopher of Sans Souci, Frederick replied with this word of confession: "Can the quiet souls in the land do this?" On his journey through the country, when at Wesel, he invited the strange man to an inter view; but the latter declined the invitation, since it was not an express order. (The work has since been published by Tersteegen's biographer,, Kerlen). - Preuss, Vol. I. p. 338. 236 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. The king also admonished the preachers, in regard to people who had peculiar religious opinions^ that they "should abstain from aU abuse, lest they should turn the pulpit into a theater for -the exhibition of their passions." Indeed, upon one oc casion, he preached to the very lowest among the people the doctrine of Christian forbearance. After the battle of Striegau, on the 6th of June, 1745, when the king arrived at Lands hut, two thousand peasants surrounded him and asked the priv ilege of slaughtering all the Catholics in the neighborho6d. But Frederick met them with the words of the Lord: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefuUy use you and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father which' is in heaven." The peasants sneaked away, mortified as well as softened.1 From Frederick's standpoint it was an easy thing to be tolerant, for he had scarcely a conception of the deep rela tions of the life of faith and of the multifarious shades of religious sentiment. Everything which had hitherto separated men from each other in matters of religion, and had gathered them into sects, appeared to him as the merest foUy, above which he felt himself infinitely exalted. And mild as he may have been in some cases, in others his tolerance degenerated into harshness, and his indifference toward the different relig ions often showed itself in a way very injurious to honest .piety. In a cabinet-order, for example, which he issued in 1781, in regard to the Berlin Hymn Book, he says: "Every man under my government, if he only be honest, may believe as he pleases. As to the hymn-books, let every one be free to sing, 'Now repose the forests aU', or any other such non sense he pleases. But the preachers must not forget toler- 1 'Preuss, - CONTROVERSY WITH M. GOETZE. — RELATION OF THE BIBLE AND CHRIS TIANITY. — LESSING'S NATHAN. — THE EDUCATION OF THE HUMAN RACE. — A SENTIMENT OF LESSING'S FATHER. We have seen the revolution preparing in scientific theol ogy in the same way as in poetry and Uterature, and we must spend even many years in gathering its fruits before we can have a clear knowledge of the net proceeds of the harvest. Both theology and poetical literature were at that time not yet sundered by a gap, and the laborers in each field per mitted those in the other to do just as they pleased. The learned Michaelis and the young poet' of the same name had nothing in common but the name, and though Semler occupied a professorship of poetry for a while, it was nothmg less than a satire on poetry itself. But now we meet with a man who, if we would not mention the two apparently opposite poles in the same breath, convulsed powerfully both the dra matic and theological world, and who, by his critical acute- ness, has laid hands on both, and has produced polemics and called forth controversy in art as well as in religion, without having left behind him a finished system in either department, indeed, without having been a professional poet in the strict sense of the word, or a professional theologian. He was a critic in both spheres. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, born on the 22nd of January, 1729, in Camenz, Oberlausitz, the son of a pious and devout Lutheran preacher, who was distinguished for his historical GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING. 275 learning, was early trained in a manner designed to make him a man of learning and a thorough Christian.1 His par ents taught him to pray when very young, and the studious reading of the Bible, as practiced daily in domestic worship, was imposed upon him as a duty; indeed, the hymns which he learned awakened in him the first sparks of poetic enthu siasm. An early clearness of understanding went hand in hand with this religious training, for his father not only directed the five-year old boy to what he should believe, but how and why he should believe. He early evinced a spirit of independence, and a consciousness of the life which he was to lead. When an artist once desired to paint him alongside of a bird-cage, which had a bird in it, as he regarded it a very suitable object to associate in the picture of a boy, little Lessing protested against the proposition. He much preferred to be painted amid a pile of books ! Having been sent by his parents to the Princes' School at Meissen, the boy made rapid progress in his studies. His love of inde pendent thinking asserted itself powerfully in him even there. The usual labors of the school did not suffice to employ his active mind, so that the principal of the school said to his father: "He is a horse which must have a double amount of fodder. The lessons which are too hard for others are too easy for him, and it is almost impossible for us to make any further use of him." The associate principal being somewhat provoked at his rapid nature, gave him the nickname of " the admirable Lessing," and the boy was called by the same name by his fellow-students; but he afterwards earned it as an honorable title from his contemporaries. Young Lessing's parents wished to make him a theologian, and his mother in particular designed that her Gotthold Ephraim "should be a real man of God." But the son had no inclination in this direction, nor indeed to any department of knowledge purely for the purpose of making it a means 1 We here follow his brother's Biography (Berlin, 1793. 2 vols.) and that of Schink (in the 31st Vol. of the Berlin Ed. 1771—94,), and call to mind an Essay by Schenkel in the Swiss-Museum (Frauenfeld, 1839) Vol. III. p. 202 ff. ' ' 276 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of subsistence; In Leipzig he heard the learned Ernesti, but was little pleased with the rest of his teachers. To him as well as to Goethe, the devout Gellert was too seriously pious, too lachrymose, too hypochondriacal. Lessing, however, soon gathered about him a circle of young friends, who prac ticed writing poetry, and very soon the first productions of the young poets appeared in a weekly journal in Hamburg. But he was also just as careful to bestow strength and skill upon his body as nourishment upon his mind. He learned to ride, dance, and fence, — employments which his good mother regarded as sin, and his father declared to be at least a superfluity, and waste of money. But with this slight grief which he caused his parents there was soon associated a greater and more important one. Among the young people with whom Lessing associated there was Christopher Mylius, who had already gained notoriety as a free-thinker by his loose views on the miracles of the Bible. Lessing's associ ating not only with this young man, whose outward Ufe was dissolute, but also with theatrical players, placed him in a very unfavorable light, and the report of his conduct caused great grief to his parents; his good mother was particularly provoked when she heard that the cakes which she had sent him at Christmas had been eaten, with a bottle of wine, by her son and a group of comedians. Lessing was too good a son to burden the hearts of his parents by such grief. On being summoned home he repaired thither amid the most severe winter weather, and strove to pacify his father and mother by making a personal impression upon them. He conversed with his father on serious theological points, and in order to show his mother that he could be a preacher whenever he wished, he wrote a sermon for her benefit. Thus he remained untU Easter in the parsonage at Camenz, and being fully reconciled with his parents, went away. But having returned to Leipzig again, . his inclination drew him more and more to the theater. Yet it was not the common love of pastime that drew him thither, but his natural impulse, and, we may say, the mission on which he inwardly felt called to engage, of taking under bis protection the German theater, lessing's VIEW OF CHRISTIANITY. 277' Which at that time just began to step out of its baby-shoes, and of leading it to a higher stage of artistic finish. He was even ready at this time to come forth as a dramatic poet. Meanwhile, the want of zeal on the part of the Leipzig actors produced a marked impression upon him. He left Leipzig and followed his friend Mylius to Berlin. But this course again increased the soUcitude of his parents. Berlin, then under the government of Frederick the Great, was celebrated for its extreme free-thinking, and young Lessing's friend was known as one of the most radical. Lessing re ceived a severely castigatory letter from his father, with the command to return home immediately. But he endeavored to pacify his parents by writing to them, and to make them understand, in particular, that a love of the theater is not at all in conflict with well-understood Christianity. To give a proof of this, he promised soon to compose a comedy, which he would entitle The Free-Thinker, and which would make the practice and character of free-thinkers ridiculous- and contemptible. He wrote at the same time the following words, which are of special bearing on his reUgious thinking: "Time shall teach whether he is a better Christian who has the principles of Christian doctrine in his memory and often on his tongue's end without understanding them, and who goes to church and engages in all the exercises simply because they are customary, or he who has once wisely doubted, and has arrived at full conviction through the path of inquiry, or at least has struggled to arrive there. The Christian religion is not a work that we should take on trust from our parents. Most people inherit it from them just as they do their prop erty, but in carrying it out they show very clearly what sort of righteous Christians they are. So long as I see that one of the highest commandments of Christianity, 'love your enemies,' is not better observed, must I doubt those to be Christians who represent themselves as such." Lessing, after continuing some time longer in Berlin, yielded to the wish of his parents by going to Wittenberg, where his brother was studying theology, and where he himself took the degree of Master of Arts, yet without making use of it in sub- Vor.. I. — 19 278 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. sequent life.1 Among other labors of Lessing in Wittenberg was his translation of Klopstock's Messiah into Latin, to facilitate the understanding of it. But after the lapse of a year he again returned to Berlin, where he edited the Vossian Zeitung for his friend Mylius and thereby incurred new censure from home. A scribbler for a newspaper and a writer of comedies were regarded by his father as about of the same import. But the latter again became reconciled by the constantly enlarging literary reputation of his son; and so he allowed him from this time forth to go on with his dramatical studies without any molestation. To this period of Lessing's stay in Berlin belongs his acquaintance with Nicolai and Mendelssohn, both of whom were representatives of illuminism and Deism; yet Lessing by no means shared all the opinions of these friends, but rather enjoyed disputing with them, and making them feel the impress of his own superiority. After 1757 he published, in connection with these two men, the Library of Polite Literature, and in 1759 the Letters on Literature, which laid so violent a hold upon the history of •the German mind that a new epoch dates from. their appear ance. In 1760 he became a member of the Berlin Academy. About this time some of his principal works appeared. After living awhile in Breslau as the private secretary of General (Tauenzien, and after subsequently returning to Berlin, he accepted, in 1767, a position in Hamburg, which again con nected him more closely with the theater, for whose thorough reform he labored in his Dramaturgy. The French taste of Voltaire was an object of his special hostility. But though moving in the midst of the theatrical world of Hamburg, he yet made the personal acquaintance of the senior and chief Pastor John Melchior Goetze, with whom he afterward en gage! in a famous theological dispute. Goetze, a man who, with all his rigid Lutheran orthodoxy knew how to prize solid learning, and even possessed an abundant mass of histor- 1 During this period he became acquainted with Voltaire's private secretary, Richier de Louvois, and his controversy with Voltaire him self took place. Both minds were very different, and that each should repel the other was perfectly unavoidable. THE WOLFENBUTTEL FRAGMENTS. 279 ical knowledge himself, was not a little surprised to find in the theatrical critic and writer of comedies a man who had gained a footing in the whole of the broad sphere of science, and who, moreover, possessed a more thorough knowledge of the Augsburg Confession and of theological matters in general than many a candidate. He conceived an increasing attach ment for the man whom he had first despised as half a heathen, and did not regret the bottle of wine with which he used to retain his welcome guest in his witty conver sation. Remarkably enough, Goetze observed, to his great joy, that Lessing did not harmonize unconditionally in the notes of the shallow illuminists, but did far more justice to sohd orthodoxy than he had expected of him. It was, indeed, a source of sincere joy to him that Lessing could not conceive a liking for his colleague, Alberti, the new-fashioned preacher in the Catharine Church, to whom the free-thinking and culti vated world of Hamburg was running at that time, and against whom Pastor Goetze bravely took the field. The removal of Lessing to Wolfenbuttel in 1770, whither he was called to be Librarian in the Ducal Library in that place, drew him out of the dramatic world, for which he had lived and struggled in Hamburg, and placed him in the very midst of the scene of theological conflict, but at the same time brought on a breach with Pastor Goetze. Lessing had commenced to give to the public a number of the previously undiscovered treasures of the Wolfenbuttel Library, to which belonged especially the celebrated writing of Berengarius of Tours (of the eleventh century) on the Lord's Supper, which he discovered, and which, because it cast much light on the controversy of the day, was saluted with great joy by the theological world as an exceedingly fortunate discovery. But the matter did not rest with this harmless and learned pubhcation of old buried treasures. Lessing pubhshed also what was new, and issued under his own protection what others had not ventured to do over their names. The publication in 1774 of the so-called Wolfenbuttel Fragments, or Fragments of a Wolfenbuttel Unknown, called forth a general intellectual excitement, which may perhaps 2S0 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. be compared with that which Strauss' Life of Jesus has pro duced in our own times, although both works proceed from very different and even contradictory premises. The Frag- mentist did not place himself upon a mythical but a histor ical ground. To him, everything which the Evangehsts relate was not the pious fiction of an idealistic age, but a real and intentional historical account. But the Holy Scriptures become a profane work under his hands; the writers are charged with a secret plan, and clearly stamped as deceivers. This applies particularly to> the boldest of the Fragments, which appeared in 1777 under the title of The Purpose of Jesus and His Disciples. According to this Fragment it was the purpose of Jesus to reform Judaism, and in spite of the universal Roman supremacy to establish an earthly Messi anic kingdom. It was only after this bold plan had failed, and the author of it had died, that the disciples attributed a spiritual meaning to the doctrine of God's kingdom, and invented also the history of the resurrection of Jesus. In a special Fragment the disconnected and contradictory elements of the gospel accounts of this fact of the resurrection and the -external events connected with it, were made prominent, when the impurity of the fountain from which these facts were drawn was concluded as a certainty. While, according to the later hypothesis of Strauss, the gospel history is re garded as a product of pious enthusiasm, here it is made the result of a cold and cunning calculation.1 But the impression which the latter as well as the former hypothesis produced was, generally speaking, the same. Semler's description gives us at least a very clear idea of this impression, and calls to mind a similar impression in our own times. He says: "The result was a kind of amazement, even on the part of many politicians. The displeasure of the more sober and worthy classes, and the frivolous jesting 1 After the progress which negative criticism has made since Strauss' time, the critics have again arrived at the idea of deception! Every where they seem to be smelling out deceptive tendencies, where their predecessors, had found blunt frankness. Thus the thing goes on in a circle. SEMLER'S OPPOSITION TO LESSING. 281 and deliberate elaboration of the derision sketched here only in outline, spread immediately among all the younger class of learned people, from whom these effects extended still wider, to the citizens and such participants as the "Unknown" had certainly never calculated upon. . . . Many thoughtful and serious young' men who had dedicated themselves to the Christian ministry were involved in great perplexity in con sequence of theh: own convictions being thus so fearfully shaken; many determined to choose another profession for their future labors rather than persevere so long amid in creasing uncertainty and without any real increase in knowl edge."1 There were readers in many cities who maintained that these Fragments could not be refuted, and that though the theologians might write and say all manner of things against them, there was no certainty that they really believed in their arguments. It was a matter of surprise to many that Semler would show fight against the Fragmentist. However, he assures us that he did it with the perfect consent of his own heart; and a number of other learned men of high character united with him. There arose a conflict which, even at that time, touched the very center of the vital question of Christianity, though the battle was waged with different weapons from those of the present day. It is generally acknowledged that Lessing was only the publisher, and not the author, of the Fragments; and even down to the present time there has been no perfectly conclusive information as to their real authorship. Many have thought the author to be Samuel Reimarus, the Hamburg school-teacher, who was a great re specter and propagator of the so-called natural religion; this again has been recently contested, yet we do not believe with sufficient grounds. For our purpose the question of the authorship is of slight importance.2 This much is certain, 1 Beanlwortung der Fragmente eines Vngenannten. Halle, 1779. Pref. 2 Illgen's Zeitschrift fiir histor. Theologie, 1839. Nr. 3. On the contrary: Lachmann's Auszug aus Lessing's Werken, Vol. XII. p. 531. Guhrauer, Bodins Heptaplomeres (Berlin, 1841), p. 257 ff. Comp. also Klose, in Herzog's Beal-Encycl., Article Fragmente. 282 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. that the universal displeasure turned chiefly against the pub lisher. We find Pastor Goetze taking his place in the front rank of his opponents. It is indeed bad that petty and per sonal passions should play a part where a great cause is at stake, and where we have reason to expect above all other things, a pure zeal for the truth. We will not decide wheth er it was irritated sensitiveness on the part of the Hamburg pastor because Lessing had treated a letter of his with si lence, in which he had annoyed him with a learned question, — that Lessing should compare for him the Low German editions of the Bible in the Wolfenbuttel Library. The con troversy developed at least this much, that Goetze had to deal with an opponent for whose sharpness of dialectics ha was no match. Lessing, in his Anti-Goetze, overwhelms the zealous pastor by the great preponderance of his own intellect, and hence it may have come to pass that this poor Pastor Goetze, thus thrown to the ground, has generally been regarded as a rough and over zealous ignoramus, which he certainly was not; other wise Lessing would not have regarded him worthy of the consideration with which he had previously regarded him. Lessing charged Goetze, among other things, with the most unmitigated unbelief in Christianity, because he imagined that Christianity could be harmed by such investigations. But Goetze would not take this charge quietly. He granted that Christianity, as such, has nothing to fear from such inquiries, and he even thought that discreet doubts might be brought against it; but he believed that it would be far better for such controversies to be kept within the circle of learned men and not to be brought before the people at large. He had no fears for " objective religion," as he called it, which would stand in spite of every attack made against it; but he did believe 'that "subjective religion," the rehgion of the individ ual, might be endangered in this way, for the faith of many weak minds might thus be led astray. And who would dare to deny this? Even Lessing did not deny it; but he thought that it is good to give vent to the fire; and he compared himself to a physician, who, when the pestilence is approach 's!. LESSING'S DEFECTIVE VIEW OF TRUTH. 283 ing, does not conceal the fact, but immediately communicates it to the Board of Health. A pastor and a librarian, he held, are two very different things; they are related to each other just as a shepherd is to a collector of plants. It is by all means the duty of the shepherd to lead his sheep in good pasture, and to conceal from them the poisonous plants when ever he can. But the plant-collector, who seeks the poison ous plants as well as the others, brings them within the circle of science. The truth soars above all other considerations; even the blissful calm of the individual soul must be offered as sacrifice to it. " It will always be the case," says Lessing, "that the few who were never Christians will never be Chris tians, and wiU therefore never dream away a thoughtless life unc'ei" the name of Christians; but the contemptible class of Christians must always be thrust before the hole through which the better class will press to the light." 1 Evidently this is a hard expression, but it is intimately connected with the view that the illumination of the under standing is estimated as the greatest blessing, which must be bought at any price, and that the individual man, with his spirit, his pious sentiment, his conflicts and doubts, his yearn ing and his conscience, is regarded as nothing if only hu manity as a species does not progress in thought. If we follow this opinion to its lowest roots we shall find it con nected with that pantheistic view of the world which never ,, allows the personahty of the individual to come into consid eration, and with which the forbearance of the weak is re garded as weakness itself. Of course, the truth transcends all else; but what truth is it? Not that alone which iUum- inates the understanding and satisfies our thirst for knowl edge, but the truth which makes us free within, which im proves us, sanctifies us, and ennobles our whole nature; it is the truth which, as the common blessing of all, elevates the lowest people above the narrow horizon of their earthly limitations and their earthly grief, and keeps the wisest man humble, and teaches him to be silent and adore where the horizon of his understanding ceases. Who tells Lessing that 1 Anti-Gotze, Vol. VI. p. 207. 284 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the "unthinking Christians," as he calls them, are therefore no Christians at all, or the most contemptible class of them? When did mere thinking become the measure of religion, the measure of Christianity? When Christianity proclaims its truths it does not separate between those who think and those who do not, but between believers and unbelievers. It as sumes receptivity of spirit, longing for the divine, and hunger and thirst after* righteousness; and with this presupposition it applies to all, to the learned and the unlearned, to the 'profoimdest thinkers as well as to babes who have never been accustomed to think and have not yet become skilled in the controversy of thoughts. That, the great mass of those who do not think should be offered as a sacrifice to those who do, is. notwithstanding all its show of liberality, a heart less, highly illiberal, and despotic requirement, which is neither Christian nor Protestant. But the word of the Lord is here at stake, that the weakest among the weak shall not be offended. Lessing compares critical storms to the storms in nature, which thrust down many a small and^narrow house with its peaceful enclosure, but, raging on a large scale, purify the atmosphere from malignant exhalations and restore it to a healthy state. But we are solicitous when the blast is in progress for the cottages of the poor and the delicate blossoms that will be destroyed by it, and we cannot v regard this solicitude as egotistical, which trembles only for our own summer-house and our own flower-pots, which are ruined to us, — a charge which Lessing made against his opponent. Lessing, as is well known, was a passionate player, who played high and staked everything. It is very easy to see how such an one would stake everything for the highest gain of truth, but the careful head of a family calculates otherwise, aud trembles for his children when their very happiness depends upon the game. We speak here only of the impression the rise of such storms makes upon our minds. We cannot turn them aside nor violently keep them back; and we must concede to Les sing, as a Protestant principle, that no advantage can be gained in religious matters by stifling and concealing doubt, THE TRUE WAY TO MEET SKEPTICISM. 2S5 and that when we think we have quenched the fire in one place it will break out more violently in another. We too beUeve that fire should have vent, and here we must agree fully with the acute man when he repels as unsatisfactory the advice which has been given and often repeated, even in the most recent times, that we should rather make use of the Latin tongue in such scientific transactions, as it by no means constitutes the natural boundary between those who are sltiUed in .fighting and those who need moderation. But we beheve the fire should have vent in the most guarded manner, that we should not hastily break in upon it, and that we should guard carefully against overwhelming the defective and often only supposed discovery of science at the expense of general religious and moral welfare. We would not prevent the gatherer of plants from also collect ing poisonous plants; but we must esteem the shepherd who is striving to guard the sheep against that which is poison ous to them, because they are not able to digest it. And though we cannot prevent such scientific and critical inquir ies from becoming known to the people, for whom they were never intended, we should at least use our efforts to destroy their power of injury. And we know but one means for doing this. It is not the utterance of a premature lamentation that can be of aid here, nor the presentation of partial and dis torted counter-arguments, but where we cannot stay the neg ative force we must meet it by all the stronger positive agency. Where theoretical doubt has become strongest the vital power of Christianity, afready practically tried so often, has stricken it to the dust; but in whatever age this vital power has been wanting, theoretical doubt has always gained ground. It is. by vital piety, godly exercise, intercourse with God, and the operation of more active love, that the Chris tian becomes daily conscious anew of possessing it, and can also help others to the same knowledge; and every one can easily draw from the practical possession the conclusion of a good foundation. Lessing knew this way very well; he knew it much better than the most of his contemporaries and many of his opponents. "He who sits secure in his house," says he, 286 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. "may let others say what they please about the foundation; his house stands in spite of them. He is a fool who would undermine the foundation to see whether the people are right." But here the zealous opponents of Lessing mostly over looked the fact that, instead of actively checking the fire, they only made an alarm, and by the suspicion of science and the unreasonable abuse of it they did more harm than good. It is certain that the untimely introduction of learned controversies into practical life, and the directing of attention from the pulpit to certain books and writings that have just been read in the study, and would otherwise never have been circulated among the people, have often been the first agencies in producing the evil, in planting the poisonous weeds in the pasture, and in unnecessarily destroying the rest of innocent minds. Pastor Goetze may also have over looked this point, and in this respect Lessing was, not very far out of the way in maintaining that nobody ever made more unbelievers than the orthodox themselves.1 But theologians of clearer head did not lose their courage in these storms. " The Christian religion," says Semler, " does not need to beg for forbearance or mercy by humiliation and tremblingly creeping; the day will declare who has brought gold and silver, or straw and stubble to the fire, to danger, and to trial." Yet, as with every religious struggle, besides the offence which it produces in some minds there are altogether new sides of the truth to which it leads and new points of view which it opens, so it was in the present case. As the con troversy which Lessing carried on with Goetze progressed, it touched upon one point that was profoundly connected with the very essence of Protestantism: the relation of the Bible to Christianity. While the Protestant church, in contrast with the Catholic, had set up the Bible as the only fountain of religion, Lessing sought to show that Christianity is older than the writings of the New Testament, which did not arise until after the Christian church arose; he even went back to the oldest confessions of faith, as orally developed by the 1 Anli-GSlse, Vol. VI. p. 195. LESSING'S VIEW OF THE BIBLE AND CHRISTIANITY. 287 first Fathers of the church and transmitted by living tradition, — by the Word. According to him, the edifice of the church rests upon this living spiritual force of fellowship, while in a parable he compares the Bible rather to the plan of a building on paper. Now U the fire break out in the build ing it is much better to put it out on the spot than to save the paper-plan, and to seek laboriously on it the part of the house that is on fire. It will be a happy circumstance if that which has been supposed to be fire only proves to be a Northern Ught. This charge was, in fact, not so fully without foundation, for Protestants aUowed the power of the living spirit in the church to recede too far behind the written word, and there fore there was a disposition always to find the greatest dan ger just where this word was attacked, while the spirit of the church was allowed to evaporate in the lazy slumber of security. Many pious and well-meaning Protestants of the earlier and later times, particularly the Mystics, had often referred in various ways to this defect; but there was no disposition to Usten to them. Lessing now went too far on the other side, and fell into the opposite extreme. Christianity is certainly not the Bible, nor is the Bible Christianity; but in the Bible there are laid down the testimonies of original Christianity, which should be fully developed as a living Christianity under the influence of the Divine Spirit. But yet the Bible has quite a different relation from that of the plan to the building ; it is far more, and while we would not declare the Scriptures as such, but Christ with the Scriptures, to be the corner-stone of the building, we yet know Christ only in and by the Scriptures ; in the same way the Apostles, who have left behind their writings for us, are the living bearers and supporters of the building, and their doctrine only becomes clear to us by their writings. If the Scriptures are lost there is far more lost than the plan of the architect; and here Lessing regarded the matter far too lightly and ideally. True, in the first period of Christianity, when the spirit of union was so thoroughly vital and hearty that every member of the church was affected and pervaded by it, there 288 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. was no need of the Scriptures, for, as Irenaeus says, "faith could be written in the heart without ink and paper." But the whole history of the church informs us that this living spirit was soon lost, and that the original tradition soon be came corrupt; and it is the Holy Scriptures alone that place us on the right path, and teach us to distinguish original, apostolical Christianity from the later ordinances of men. The Protestant Church would give up its own existence if it gave up the Scriptures, and it is desirable that it should never satisfy itself with the dead possession of the Scriptures, but rejoice in the Spirit, which is the first to teach us how to understand and prize the Scriptures aright. In order that this result may be reached, there must come just such storms as were produced by the librarian of Wolfenbuttel and by others after him. It is difficult to present a connected theological system of Lessing. Indeed, he had none. He was critical, not system atical. From his own confession, the seeking of truth caused him more pleasure than the discovery or even quiet posses sion of it. His bold expression is well known, " that if God should hold all truth in his right hand, and doubt, the search after truth, in his left, and would give him his own choice, he would choose the left hand, though at the risk of being always in error, and ask for doubt with the words: 'Give Father, for the pure truth is for Thee alone!'"1 We would therefore find ourselves in great difficulty if we should attempt to assign Lessing a place anywhere in any theological system of thought already in vogue. This much has certainly now become clear to us, that we cannot asso ciate him with Voltaire and men of his class, nor with the freethinkers and Deists of the common sort.2 Lessing was a * Duplik. Schriften, Vol. V. p. 147. 2 Excellent light has been cast upon Lessing's philosophical and re ligious principles by a work of H. Ritter, Lessing's philosophische und religiose Grundsatze (Gottingen, 1847), from which we quote the following passage (p. 47) in proof of what we have said: "Lessing, who was not devoid of spirit and wit, who had at his command learning and acute- ness such as but few have, did not lift his voice in favor of witty and learned freethinkers, but for poverty of spirit, simplicity of heart, and LESSING'S CANDOR AND THEOLOGICAL POSITION. 289 grand and noble nature. His love of truth was incorruptible, and his uprightness is worthy of respect even when it appears united with coarseness. How disgusting was the report cir culated by his opponents against his honesty, that he had received a thousand ducats from the Jews of Amsterdam for publishing the Fragments! Must we not pardon him if he indulged in spleen in his answer to such false imputations, with which people believed that they were rendering God a service? Lessing was not only unselfish but serious and in genuous. He nowhere jests with sacred things, but is always in deep earnest even when he derides. His opponents did not have to fear the flash of his sword, but its sharpness, — a fact plainly proved by his controversy with Goetze. Wit undoubtedly stood always at his command, and perhaps in richer abundance than with Voltaire; but his 'was not the light French wit, nor simply sheet-lightning, but the zigzag lightning, behind which a cloud burdened with weighty and fruitful thoughts discharged itself. Even that well-meaning but flat and shallow illuminism that had commenced at his day to break over Germany, was not the object of his de fense; he knew the old orthodox system of theology too well to abandon it to those who were ignorant of it, and who would substitute for it another that was utterly untenable. "In this respect," he wrote to his brother, "we are one, — that our old religious system is false. But I would not say with you that it is a patchwork, gotten up by bunglers and semi-philosophers. I know of nothing in the world on which human acuteness has been more engaged and exercised than on this. That religious system is the patchwork of bunglers and semi-philosophers which people are now attempting to rest of mind. ... He belongs among those men, and stands in recent times at their head, who have taken the fruitful point of view that religion is not at all a matter of the understanding, but of the heart or feeling. He here sees that it is secure amid all the doubt which his understanding may bring against it; he knows that all such doubt can only affect the external shell of religion, but that the trnth of the feelings which he has experienced can never be contested." Compare the subsequent work of Schwarz, Lessing als Theologe. Halle, 1854 290 • HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. substitute for the old one, and would make it of far more influence on reason and philosophy than the old system ever claimed." If we would understand by Deists those who will not allow positive religion it seems certain that we must class Lessing among them, so far as the conviction pf that wise Jew ex pressed in Nathan the Wise, his masterpiece, is really his own. And he tells us himself that this is so: "Nathan's declaration against all positive religion has always been mine." But by a positive religion he seems to have understood rather one whose ordinances were petrified, and which was sup ported on merely external advantages, — a religion which calls itself right at the outset, and bluntly says with the patriarch: "Do nothing; the Jew shall be burnt!"1 The thought of a revelation was not so repulsive to Lessing as to other Deists. " To the reason," according to his own ex pression, "it must be much rather a proof of the truth of revelation than an objection to it when it meets with things that surpass its own conceptions, — for what is a revelation which reveals nothing?" But Lessing certainly did not regard the idea of a revela tion as settled for all times, but as God's gradual act of training.2 The idea of a gradual development of human knowledge in divine things has, in fact, many pleasing feat ures, although if we adopt it, it can appear too easy a matter to the human understanding to introduce its own plan into God's plan. This has been repeated in different forms. Let us now group the chief principles of this idea. Revelation is to the whole human race what education is to the individ- 1 Comp. on the meaning of the poem, the Academical Celebration Address of W. Wackernagel, reprinted in Gelzer's Monatsblatter, 1855. Oct, No. p. 232 ff. 2 It has been denied that the work on the Education of ihe Human Bace, in which this thought is elaborated, was written by Lessing, but affirmed that it was the work of a celebrated farmer, Thar, of Moglin (Illgen's Zeitschrift fur histor. Theologie, 1839. No.. 3). See, on the con trary, Guhrauer, Lessing's Erziehung des Menschengeschlechtes kritisch und philosophisch erSrtert, Berlin, 1841. We have made use of Lachmann's Edition. LESSING'S EDUCATION OF THE HUMAN RACE. 291 ual man. Education is revelation, which is imparted to the individual man; and revelation is education, which has been and still is imparted to the human race. Education gives to man nothing which he could not have from himself, but it gives him that more quickly and easily. In the same way revelation gives nothing to the human race which human reason, left to itself, could not have arrived at, but it gives that earlier. Now as the order in which education develops the forces of man is not a matter of indifference, so also in revelation. Education no more presents everything to man at once than revelation does, but makes its communications in gradual development. In revelation, too, God must preserve a certain order, a certain measure. Now God chose an in dividual people, the roughest and most intractable, for a special education, in order to be able to begin with them from the very outset. He caused himself to be proclaimed to this people, — of whom it is not known what was their form of worship in Egypt, — as the God of their fathers, in order that they might be acquainted and entrusted with the idea of a God adapted to them; and he proclaimed himself to them by miracles as a God who is more powerful than any other. Thus Israel became accustomed to the idea of divine unity. As children must become accustomed to obedience by sensuous means, by rewards and punishments, so did God act toward this people. Promises and threats were limited to this life. The thought of immortality remained foreign to this people. In them God trained up for himself the future educators of the human race; for when the child had grown up through blows and caresses to years of understanding, its . father thrust it suddenly out among strangers, and here the child first perceived the great blessings which it had possessed but did not appreciate in its father's house. Most other nations remained far behind Israel, and only a few were in advance of it. For it often happens with children that many become very rough if left to themselves, while others continue to develop in an astounding manner. But such children as develop successfully without education are no more a proof of the inutUity of a good education than these few more 292 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. highly-educated nations of antiquity demonstrate anything against revelation. Even the fact that the immortality of the soul was not known to God's people, while it had earlier arisen among other nations, does not argue anything against the divine plan of that education of man. The idea of im mortality was not yet adapted to the existing stage of the development of the people; just like a child, they had to learn first of all to obey; and their heroical observance of the commandments, simply because they were from God, pos sesses such a grand feature that we must see above all in it the fruit of a divine education. But down to this time the people had feared rather than loved God. Yet now the time came when their ideas had to be enlarged, ennobled, and corrected. This happened by Is rael's becoming acquainted, during its captivity, with the philosophy of other nations, which possessed more spiritual ideas of God's nature than it did. As revelation had directed its reason hitherto, so now did reason direct revelation. This was the first important service bestowed by each upon the other. The child sent into" a foreign country saw other children, who knew more and lived more properly than it did, and, full of shame, asked itself: "Why do I not know that too? Why do I not live so too? Why was this not imparted to me in my father's house, in order that I might keep to it?" It then searches out its elementary books, which had long been distasteful to it, in order to cast the blame upon them. But, behold, it appears that the fault does not lie with the books, but that all the blame rests upon itself. Thus the people came back from the strange land more educated thau when they had entered it. The Jews had been made ac quainted with the doctrine of the immortality of the soul by the Persians and the Chaldeans, and particularly by the Grecian philosophy, as it flourished at this time in Alexandria. But as this doctrine had not been plainly declared in their sacred writings, which contained at most only indications of it, so it could never become the doctrine of the whole people in its philosophical form. But the indications or allusions did not suffice any longer; the time for the elementary book had passed. LESSING'S EDUCATION OF THE HUMAN RACE. 293 To give a new interpretation of this book, and to introduce foreign wisdom into it, as\ the Jews did with their laws after the Captivity, would have easily given an oblique direction to the understanding of the child, which had now grown into boyhood. Christ came just at the right time. He was the reliable and practical teacher of immortality; he was reliable through the prophecies which appeared to be fulfilled in him, through the miracles which he performed, and through his own return to Ufe after the death by which he had seated his doctrine. .But he was also a practical teacher, for he taught immortality not merely speculatively, but brought it into the most intimate union with morality. The disciples have propagated this doetrine, and transmitted it, in writings. These writings constitute the second and better elementary book for the human race. For more than seven teen hundred years they have employed the human under standing more than other books, and they have illuminated it more than other books, though it has been through the light which the human understanding itself has cast upon them. It was also necessary that every people regard this book for awhile as the climax of their knowledge; for even the boy must regard his elementary book as the best, lest his impatience to become educated hurry him on to things for which he has not yet laid the foundation. Likewise the more capable, who have been thinking beyond the limits of the book, would prefer to read it once more, and see whether it does not contain more than they thought themselves already in possession of. Besides, should these revealed doctrines which we became acquainted with as mysteries become the possession of our minds by the use of reason, they should be, to our reason, self-perceived or speculative truths; as, for ex ample, the doctrines of the Trinity, Original Sin, and the Atone ment. The author here uses the same figure that Mary Huber had previously, employed : that the mysteries of religion are the solution which the teacher of arithmetic gives to his scholars at the outset, in order that they may be able to calculate, in a certain measure, according to it. But if his scholars should be satisfied with the solution thus given in Vol. I.— 20 294 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. advance they would never learn how to calculate, and the purpose of the good teacher in giving them a key to their labor would be very badly fulfilled. All training of the human race has an object. That which is educated, is educated to something. Thus the author of the work before us also hopes that the time of completion wiU come, when man will do good because it is good, and not because arbitrary rewards are attached to it. "The time," he says, " of a new and eternal gospel will come which is promised to us in the elementary books of the New Tes tament. What certain fanatics of the thirteenth and four teenth centuries said on this point was, perhaps, not a vain fancy, though they were in too much of a hurry, and in trenched upon God's plan, for the shortest line is not always the best."1 At the conclusion of the book there is started the hypothesis of a transmigration of the soul, in order to give to the individual man opportunity for the realization of this education of humanity. Though we may pass whatever opinion we please on this book, we cannot deny the ingenious elaboration of a thought which is both true and Christian in the main (for even Paul calls the law a school-master to lead us to Christ), though much that is distorted and venturesome will not es cape notice. We close the present lecture with Lessing, who died on the 15th of February, 1781, and we propose in the follow ing one to take a general view of the further advancement of skepticism for a period of sixty, seventy, or even eighty years, as partly introduced by Lessing, but yet less by him, who stood above his age, than by other spokesmen of the times, particularly by Basedow, Nicolai, and others, and brought to an extreme by C. F. Bahrdt. 1 Lessing's idea has been thus understood: that there would be a time in which Christianity would make way for a more perfect religion. But, on the contrary, Ritter attempts to show how Lessing, quite in the opposite, understood by the new and eternal gospel nothing else than the fulfillment of the promises of Christianity. See Lessing's philosophische und religiose Grundsiitzs, p. 56 If. THE ELDER LESSING ON HIS TIMES. 295 For the present, we will listen a moment to Lessing's pious and venerable father, who wrote as follows a few years be fore his death, which took place in 1770, and therefore be fore the publication of the Wolfenbuttel Fragments: "The unmerited goodness of God has permitted me to Uve about seventy-four years, and to reach the fiftieth of my ministry. During this time numberless changes have occurred, which have rendered the condition of men within and outside the pale of Christianity quite different, yet not much better. The compulsion of conscience and the spirit of persecution have gradually almost disappeared; unheard-of religious cruelties have grown into disuse; but, on the contrary, an immoderate freedom and unblushing boldness in speaking and writing just as one pleases about divine and spiritual things, have gained the upper hand. Increasing unbelief -has assumed the throne of superstition. Every man has had the privilege of reading the Holy Scriptures, and many have dared to profane them. Good and trustworthy institutions in ecclesiastical and political matters have been organized and recommended; but injustice, hard-heartedness, ignorance, and disobedience have not there by decreased. The sciences have advanced, but the morals of men have not improved. Men wish to become famous by learning, not by the fear of God. This is what I think, when I institute a comparison between the former and the present times and people. I do not despise the former, and yet I cannot magnify the latter very much. Much goes on among men quite differently, but not better. People are in the habit of looking on the bad side of aU that is old, and on the good side of all that is new."1 The following lecture will show us, at least in part, the plain truth of old Lessing's opinion. 1 See Lessing's Leben, by his brother, Vol. I. p. 19. LECTURE XIV. THE PERIOD OF ILLUMINISM IN GERMANY. — BASEDOW AND PHILANTHROPISM. — NICOLAI AND THE UNIVERSAL GERMAN LIBRARY. — POPULAR PHILOSOPHY. — EFFORTS FOR THE PUBLIC GOOD. — FRANKLIN, ISELIN, AND OTHERS. — REACTION UPON THE CHURCH. — SEB ALDUS NO TH ANKER. — MORAL AND UTILITARIAN SERMONS. — EMASCULATION OF THE HYMNS. — NEW-FASHIONED TRANSLATIONS OF THE BIBLE. — C. F. BAHRDT. As we now turn aside from the stately picture of Lessing, before which. we tarried in the last lecture, to the Protest antism of those men who introduced the period of uluminism throughout Germany by relying in part on his services, we are reminded involuntarily of a sentiment of Schelling: "Though the heavens have ceased to rain, the drops continue long to fall from the roof." And it is really the fact, that we must turn from the rain which has been driven by the storm and place ourselves beneath the drops that fall slowly from the roof if we would investigate this process of illuminism in all its details. But yet it is not our purpose to do this. We must be satisfied with a general impression, and therefore instead of attempting to describe many who deserve a spe cial notice in this vast domain, we will only speak of the principal characters, — those who were naturally much better and truer than the crowd of their imitators. It would be quite as improper to say that these men did not possess a certain skill and service, notwithstanding their partial tend encies und false impulses, as to endeavor to show that all INNOVATIONS IN EDUCATION AND POPULAR LITERATURE. 297 their labors were designed for the benefit of their fellow- men. Two leaders in particular of the period of illuminism here present themselves before us: Basedow and Nicolai, — the for mer being in the department of education, the latter in that of periodicals and popular literature. The training of youth and the popular periodical press were the two agencies by which the ideas that were to agitate the times received their impulse, movement, and wider dissemination. Both are agents on whose relation to the church much depends; and though there was also a papacy during the period of illuminism, just as in the Middle Ages, we must look for these skeptical popes chiefly among the school-teachers (sometimes also school-des pots) or among the publishers of a newspaper, a magazine, or a critical review. Nothing was previously known of these two agencies which now exert such an influence on public opinion. The school stood beneath the scepter of the church ; and where there was any periodical literature, it was subjected to censorship. But now everything was changed; education claimed that it was purely a human affair, and needed no more the protection and care of the church. Thus the broad stream of Uterature spread farther over the territory of hfe, which formerly had been influenced only by the Scriptures and edUying works, together with a very scanty and needy secular science. The new system of education and the new popular philosophy played into each other's hands, and protested that the church be no more the only instructor of youth and the only architect of the people. But they were not contented to stand outside the church, by which they had in fact been previously nursed prejudicially, to gain their own free soil; but having once placed their foot there, they immediately turned themselves against the church. The old temple, with its Gothic towers, windows, gloomy aisles, and monuments, did not suit any longer as a cheerful play-ground of youth and as the negative philosophy of older people. It must now become a pleasant school-room; the carved pulpit, with its spiral staircase, must become a plain wooden platform, and the majestic nave (ship) of the church must become a conven- 298 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ient ferry-boat for safe plying between the flat banks. In fact, as you look at this change you hardly know whether to sing a song of triumph with one, an elegy with another, or a satire with a third. I believe that neither of them would reaUy express what a candid historical review of the events would portray. Instead of lingering longer at the general subject, let us inspect our task more closely. We will begin with Basedow and his labors, or with the reform of education in the eight eenth century. No one who looks at the previous period will hesitate to say that the church, the school, and the household needed an educational reform, and that it was the great necessity of the times. Or should we not thank Godi that a change did occur, when we remember that in proportion as ecclesiastical life itself had died, ecclesiastical training in general had grad ually become contracted into a mere outward, orthodox dis cipline? Or of what did the Christian instruction of many churches and schools of the seventeenth, and stiU more of the eighteenth century consist but the mechanical learning of the catechism by rote, and the filling of the memory with religious material, which lay spiritually undigested as a dead substance in the brain, without passing into nourishment and blood? Yet the fault lay not in the church as such, but in the servants of the church and their institutions. Much de pended on the teachers, and among the generality of dull old orthodox instructors there were some excellent ones who knew how to guide the youth wisely and seriously, and to plant the germ of goodness and greatness in their hearts. Many men whose names are no longer known would have accom plished by their humble labors, though their method was not perfect, more than those who were puffed up by their method while they themselves were essentially dead. I am reminded of Amos Comenius, of whom I have spoken in an earlier work,1 and of A. II. Francke and the better class of teachers in the Halle Orphan House. But after acknowledging all the good done by individuals previously, the most important service was left to accidental good-will and to the skill of the person. 1 Vorlesungen, Part. IV. p. 508. (2nd Ed.) NECESSITY OF A SCIENCE OF' EDUCATION. 299 And while it is true that this good-will and skill of individ uals can often do more than a good method with a bad will and poor skill, it is also true that when once a good method is established and recognized it is of incalculable advantage. A science of education did not exist down to the eighteenth century; it had to be created and called forth. What had formerly been left to nature, custom, and prejudice had to be established on fixed perceptions and observations, and elevated to an art; the good and the true must become a law, and what was improper had to yield to what was suitable. Man should be perceived as complete man; he had to be developed and trained properly and gradually in body, soul, and spirit. This was indeed a noble and great task, but one too difficult to be performed by one generation, however en lightened. Neither could it be done without many a conflict, and offence to , estabhshed prejudices ; and since the aim of all education is religion, we need not be surprised that this conflict about training affected in many ways the theological controversies of the day ; for it is plain that the various prin ciples of training in the former and the present time are intimately related to the various conceptions of human nature. Whoever, for example, believed with the old confessions that man is so utterly depraved that he cannot be morally dis tinguished from a stone or a block, had to' look upon education as something derived from without. It was necessary to break the natural will, as a hard and perverted thing, and though the measures might be very severe the soil could only thus be gradually purified from weeds, so that new seed might be planted. According to this view, the history and doctrines of Christianity could not be impressed upon the-soui of the child too early, and there was less need of inquiring how these things were conceived and believed than how firmly they were held, and engraved upon the soul as an eternal possession. Whoever, on the other hand, adopted the new ideas now gaining ascendancy, that human nature is a germ possessing a good and noble impulse (not exclusively, but predominantly) that needs further enlargement and care, considered education as somethmg working from within outwardly. ReUgious ma- 300 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. „, terial was not only introduced into the child's soul, but the effort was made to educe religion from it; and only so much was brought from the outward world within as was com mensurate with the juvenile comprehension, and adapted to the development of what was innate. But how rapid was the leap from one extreme to the other, from the denial of human susceptibility to good impression to the denial of sin and of the natural fall of man; and from an overvaluing of the traditional, historical, and positive, to a depreciation of them ! There was still another element added. The old system of education had not only borrowed its means of training and culture from the church, but ecclesiastical life was also made the highest object and most worthy aim of education. All instruction at the high-schools was a preparation for the university, and chiefly for the study of theology; hence the preference given to the ancient languages. But with the new system of education the demand became more pressing to train man for the world and prepare him for practical life. Of what use, then, were the dead languages and ancient history? Even men of the most rigid ecclesiastical sentiments, as Frederick William I., fretted against Latin; and Thomasi us had declared that it could be dispensed with by those who were not studying for the professions. And thus education, instead of becoming exclusively ecclesiastical, assumed a broad and cosmopolitan character; and from a positively Christian nature it grew into a so-called philanthropic subject. Un doubtedly Rousseau gave the first impulse to such a move ment by publishing his Emile, which was designed to break the old bonds, to begin everything anew, and to regard man as purely man and education as designed to lead to his human development. But Basedow arose as the reformer of the educational system in Germany; and he was followed at first by Salzmann and Campe, and subsequently by the purer and nobler Pestalozzi. We cannot minutely examine all the recent history of education, but only touch upon it. We will delay awhile at its starting-point, because it is here that the Umits of education and theology come into close con tact with each other. Therefore we shall speak now of Basedow. JOHN BERNHARD BASEDOW. 301 John Bernhard Basedow was born at Hamburg on the 11th of September, 1723.1 He was the son of a wig-maker living there, who designed him for his own trade and kept him so strictly under discipline that the son fled from his father's house, and engaged in the service of a rural physician in Holstein. The latter soon observed the remarkable capacity of the boy and sent him back to his father in Hamburg, where Basedow attended the Johanneum Gymnasium. Rei- marus, the supposed author of the Wolfenbuttel Fragments, was his teacher, and had great hopes of him. In accord ance with the wish of his rigidly orthodox father, it was now intended that Basedow should study theology. He had al ready preached in some of the villages around Hamburg while a student in the gymnasium. Yet he was accustomed to say of himself, that he was a lively fellow and a joyous companion during the period of his studies. He studied with out order, and showed little disposition for restraint; but the facflity of his intellect helped him through every difficulty. Thus, without either a scientific or religious preparation for theology, he went to Leipzig, and entertained the project of becoming a great and celebrated man. He soon grew very tired of going to the lectures, and pursued his own course. During his frequent holiday-journeys he cultivated the acquaint ance of men, and during the periods of study he became acquainted with books. He read promiscuously the contro versial theology that had agitated the times. Having finished his studies, he became a private tutor in Holstein; and it was there that his natural and undoubted talent for instruc tion was developed, for he let himself down to the compre hension of children, and taught them how to learn as if they only engaged in play. He adapted his instruction to all possible circumstances, — in the school-room, the domestic circle, the garden, the field, the stable, the barn, and the workshop. His peculiar talent already excited attention, and he was aided by the favor of his employer in securing, in 1753, a position as Professor in the Military Academy at 1 See Meyer, Basedow's Leben und Charakter. Hamburg, 1791, 1792. Vol. n. 302 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Soroe, on the island of Zealand, Denmark. Basedow soon received favor as a public teacher, and at the same time he appeared as an author in the department of practical phi losophy. Under this name was usually comprehended that philosophy of the so-called sound human understanding which rejected as foolish what it was not able to comprehend. Thus he commenced in a very natural way, both in his lectures and in his writings, a passionate and angry battle with the previous theology, which worried him and others so much. 'This, in connection with that bullying conduct which he could not lay aside, though a professor, caused his departure to Altona, where he continued writing on phil osophical and religious subjects with the same skeptical and destructive, as well as constructive, spirit.1 But he now left for a time the theological field, which he had only entered as tutor and author, in order to devote himself completely to a thorough reform of education. In flamed by Rousseau's Emile, he proposed a plan for his great Elementary Work, for which, according to his own confession, he received during the space of four or five years the sum of fifteen thousand thalers from princes as well as from pri vate individuals. The undertaker of the affair was not want ing in exaggerated descriptions of the previous wretchedness of the educational system, nor in high-sounding terms, nor in importunities of every description; the work, however, which appeared in 1774, only fulfilled expectation so far as it completed in greater scope what Comenius had already commenced in his Orbis Pictus ; but the copper-plate engrav ings by Chodowiecki, which took the place of the rough wood cuts in the Orbis Pictus, beguiled the eye of many a reader at the very outset. That religious indifference which studi- 1 In his writings during this period he called himself the "North Albingian." Particular attention was excited by his work entitled, P.dlalelhie, neue Aussichten in die Wahrheiten v/nd Religion der V&nunft bis in die Grenzen der glaubwiirdigen Offenbm-ung (1763, 6'4. IL). A large number of replies appeared. In his paternal city John Melchior Goetze opposed him, so that Basedow, who was now regarded by the people as an abominably false teacher, could not visit Hamburg again without danger. BASEDOW S ELEMENTARY WORK AND PHILANTHROPES!. 303 ously pervaded the work was the very thing that secured it a sale. It was designed to accomplish the same service for Catholics and Protestants, for Jews and Christians, — to awaken human thought, sharpen observation, and advance public mor als and religion, yet without formally attacking the principles of any positive sect.1 The book found unusual favor at the time, and whoever declared himself its opponent was suspected of adherence to obsolete prejudices. Basedow became a public favorite. He had pronounced and elaborated what many a soul had faintly conceived, and what many an instructor and mother had wished, — he had summoned the spirit of the times by one word of enchantment. And now the favorable hour came to fulfill in life the con tents of the book, and thus to make each the support and requirement of the other. Basedow was summoned in 1771 to the court and palace of Francis Leopold Frederick, Prince of Dessau, in order to estabUsh there a model-school in ac cordance with his new educational views. The institution was established in the same year in which the Elementary Work appeared, 1774, and bore the name of the Philanthropin. The name was purposely selected to express humanity in its universal character, and to exclude any special and positive religious tendency. For as the Elementary Work was made to suit all confessions, so should the inmates of the Philan thropin be selected from all of the confessions and sects, feel that they are men, learn to love and respect each other as men, and as men to be developed into a higher manhood. Such ideas inflamed many .persons by their magnificent show. There was a noble element in them, but the mis fortune was that the realization corresponded so poorly to the ideal. Basedow succeeded for some time in winning to 1 As a proof of -the utterly mechanical character of his method of religious instruction, we may refer to the fact that he set down the tenth year as the time when "a child should first become acquainted with the name of God. But it must then be communicated in a solemn manner. Instruction in natural religion might then commence; but the student should not be introduced into the mysteries of .Christianity un til his fourteenth yearJ 304 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. his aid a number of excellent men, among whom was Isaac Iselin, for the fulfillment of his plans by their cooperation. His attempts were very soon imitated. Salzmann and Campe received their instruction as teachers in the Philanthropin at Dessau; similar institutions were soon afterward established in other places, Switzerland among the rest; and very soon domestic education began to be shaped according to these philanthropinic models. Mothers, instead of studying Jesus Sirach, who had announced very simple practical principles for training, now applied to Rousseau's Emile, and especially to Basedow's Elementary Work. Undue famiUarity took the place of strict parental authority; a joyous sportiveness sup planted a gloomy, pedantic seriousness; and a universal de velopment of body and soul, though it was not made to take the place of religious instruction, was yet placed beside it as a counterpoise. Who will deny that many errors occurred in these various attempts? It is very evident that a super- ficiaUty in knowledge, a melancholy vacillation in moral and reUgious Ufe, a premature spirit of skepticism among the young, and a very false and perverted system of Protestantism were greatly increased. But the step from the old to the new system had to be made and to be risked ; and though everything was not clear gain, yet the path was open which could be safely trodden in order to arrive, if not at the end, yet at a point beyond which a new department might be observed and many new and interesting points of view gamed. I frankly ask every reasonable teacher and every Christian-minded father and mother, to tell me conscientiously whether they would consider it a religious advantage to have to-day just what formerly existed, and if they would desire the unconditional return of the old system of education that existed at the time of Fred erick William I.? Must we not believe that the wfld flight from one extreme has led to its opposite, and that by this means we have before us the new and noble task of inau gurating a better system by serious thought and Christian patience? But thanks be to God, our times have been de- Uvered from most of the errors, extravagances, ridiculous EVH, OF SEPARATING HUMANITY AND CHRISTIANITY. 305 things, and moral perversion of Philanthropinism; and, un fortunately, many people can only become wise by misfortune. Like Semler, we have become more profoundly convinced that true education can only take root in a positively Christian soU; that true philanthropy is nothing else than that human ity and kindness of God which the Scriptures say have been revealed to us in Christ, not for the sake of any works of righteousness which we have done, but because of the mercy of God (Titus Ui. 5). But we would not overlook the human good that has been accomphshed by these revolutions. We would not pronounce any harsh judgment upon those persons and their efforts; and, in reference to their works, would say with the apostoUc canon: "Prove all things; hold fast that which is good." The sundering of humanity and Christianity, and placing them in antagonism, was a fundamental error, injurious both formerly and now. It was thought that Christianity would emasculate man, and pervert and deform his nature; and this error was induced by the fact that Christianity, in many persons, had become only a caricature. It was now thought that everything was gained if man were plucked from his millennial Christian development, as a plant from its native soil, and made to grow on his own resources. But how weak these resources were when the soil on which they were to grow was taken away, and they were told to stand upright in the air ! Nay, Christianity will destroy only the old man, who has become corrupt in error by his lusts, and wiU clothe us with a new nature, which is created in God's image in right eousness and holiness. In order to gain this latter result, a foreign element must be brought to our human nature. Shall we become Christians in order to be men, or shall we be come men in order to be Christians? This seems to be a controversy about terms, and yet it is a question on whose answer the principles of education really depend. And now we can say this much on this point : True education to Chris tianity is a certain education to humanity, while a purely human education without Christian principles leaves us, though only in a human view, very much in doubt as to the re- 306 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. suits.1 What Basedow aimed to perform in the department of education was attempted by Frederick Nicolai, the bookseller, another priest of the new period of skepticism, in the wider sphere of literature, or rather, as we now say, the periodical press. Frederick Nicolai, whose father had an extensive book store in BerUn, was born in that city in March, 1733, ten years later than Basedow. He was partially educated in the Orphan House at Halle, but we learn from his own confession what we had occasion to notice in relation to Frederick the Great and other men of that period, and which we should never forget when we pass our opinion on the labors of such men, that it was the excessive tenacity to reUgious forms (such as then existed in the Halle Orphan House) that had a contrary and disastrous effect upon acute minds. "By preach ing religion almost every hour," says Nicolai, "the morality of the institution sank very low;" and he himself subsequent ly ascribes a want of deep religious sentiment to the one sided character that was given to religion.2 We receive a peculiar impression of the scientific studies of that institution when Nicolai informs us that students had no knowledge of any Greek book except the New Testament, and that he was very much surprised when he accidentaUy learned that there were other Greek books besides that one. After Nico lai had spent some time at the Polytechnic School in Berlin * We shall be best assured of the truth of this statement by seeing, in Goethe's Leben, the two pictures of Basedow and Lavater painted by a master-hand. "Basedow's real character," we here read, "was indeed kindly, attractive, and humane; while his exterior was repulsive, his bearing arrogant, and his habits, like his voice, rough and unfriendly." He, the preacher of toleration, was intolerant of every opinion not his own. He obtruded his skeptical ideas upon all classes of people; he pursued not merely Lavater and Goethe, but even his dancing-master, with theological disputes. "He could not bear to see anybody at rest; he would scream forth with grinning derision and hoarse voice, and hurl one into perplexity by some startling question. Then, when he had gained his end, he would laugh vehemently." 2 See Gockingk, Friederich Nicolai's Leben und litterarischer Nachlass. Berlin, 1820. SERVICE OF THE UNIVERSAL GERMAN LIBRARY. 307 he went to Frankfort-on-the-Oder, where he was employed by a bookseller and served a hard apprenticeship.1 He saved as much time as he could to study in his cold room, which was without any other light than his own frugality provided. He denied himself of sleep in order to pore over the old classics which he had neglected at school; he learned the English language, and carefully drilled himself in writing translations. Having returned to his father's house, he soon made the acquaintance of Lessing and Mendelssohn ; and having entered' the book-store of his brother, he totally surrendered himself to literary labors. He first published, in connection with Lessing and Mendelssohn, the Library of Belles-Lettres Sciences, and then the Letters on Literature, of which Goethe said that the worst parts, even to the commonplaces, had' been written by Nicolai.2 A much more extensive work,. which was henceforth to be the organ of- the new illuminism; was the Universal German Library, which was commenced1 in 1765, with about fifty writers in connection with it, which number was afterward increased to one hundred and thirty. This work became at once the public organ of all those who felt called upon to lift their voice against superstition; fanat icism and prejudice, as weU as everything which: was spirit ually elevated, or that was related to a more lively imagi nation and a deeper feeling. It was the high tribunal of Rationalism. The naked, cold understanding which is capable of no lofty flight, and the heartless wit which laughs at everything it cannot understand, here mounted the throne of a merciless criticism and sought to restrain violently what ever was original enough to exceed the small measure of its own palpable understanding. Not alone the orthodox, nor supposed enthusiasts and Pietists, nor Lavater, but Goethe, and even poetry, — when it arrayed itself against tame prose, — indeed, philosophy too, whereever.it arose above ar bitrary and secular discussion (as was the case with Kant 1 Very like the description which Perthes gives, of, his youthful ex perience. s See the Xenien. 308 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. and Fichte), were spurned by this inquisitorial court as folly, flattery, and secret Jesuitism. Therefore Goethe addresses Nicolai in one of the Xenien,, where he thus corrects his pre sumption : "You scorn as folly what your violent hands do not seize; But whate'er you touch you infect with a loathsome disease." And in another place he says: "Crooked head! Go, rave in the forests green! Empty head! Go, vent to the trees your spleen t" Here, too, it is very easy to understand how the much laud ed tolerance, which was not supported by any deeply moral and religious sentiment, was immediately converted into intolerance and bigotry, just as soon as the selfishness and vanity of the sticklers for tolerance were fully inflated. Yet we should remember that not all the articles in the Universal German Library were colored with Nicolai's skepticism, for we find there also many weighty opinions of worthy scholars. That great undertaking was at all events of service in bringing to the knowledge of the world very important literary pro ductions, though we must bear in mind that, according to Nicolai's own confession, the speculation of the bookseller had much to do with the zeal with which the enterprise was carried on.1 This speculation, like the Elementary Work of Basedow, was well contrived. Both met a steadily increasing demand of the times. As education became more and more compre hensive, so did the reading of adults gain a wider range. Reading became more a matter of custom and rule, while it had previously been an exception. The horizon of those who were not students had to go beyond the limits exclu sively occupied by professional men. Even philosophy was made accessible to the unlearned ; divine and human subjects were spoken and written about in a way adapted to every person of moderate attainments ; and even the lower classes 1 It is characteristic of Basedow, Nicolai, and so many of the so- .called later improvers of the world, that money-making was a chief motive. This is, also true of Bahrdt. THE GOOD ELEMENT IN POPULAR ILLUMINISM. 309 were taught concerning the world and their relation to it by such works as the "Need and Help Books." Thus the philosophical and moral works of Sulzer, Moses Mendelssohn, Thomas Abbt, Christian Garve, Engel, Zimmermann, and others arose at this period and were widely disseminated. In this class of literature we find the favorite popular and juvenile productions of Rochow, Weisse, Salzmann, Becker, and Tissot, and beside them we may place foreign works of similar char acter, such as translations of English productions. We call to mind those moral weekly periodicals, the Tattler, Spectator, Guardian, and others; also the works of Franklin, that origi nal American whom we must regard as one of the noblest promoters of modern Protestantism and of the enlightenment of the century. In this pronounced effort toward universal culture and popular illuminism, and in this intellectual activ ity, who would dare to say there was nothing but vanity and destructive sentiment and effort? Nay, who would deride it with cold and careless presumption, or condemn it with blind zeal? We must frankly confess that, with this perverted tend ency, there was also a noble impulse toward something better than European humanity in general had previously possessed, — an impulse to escape from' the diminutive forms of a con tracted and common-place life into universal humanity, and to attain a safe and joyous consciousness of it. It was a tendency which we still call by the beautiful name of "the public good." In order to gain a personal view of this effort I shall call to mind only one man, whom we in Basle associate involunta rily with the term of "the public good." I refer to Isaac Iselin,1 and to the excellent men who, with him in thought and ' action, understood well the defective character of the views of Basedow and other Rationalists, and well knew how to keep free from their extremes, but had been influenced by the same impulses, though they were led by them to a more fortunate issue. * Born 1728, -j- 1782. The author of the Geschichte der Menschheit, and herein the predecessor of Herder, and the founder of the Society for the Public Good, in Basle, etc. Comp. Programm von Prof. W. Vischer. Basle, 1841. 4to. Vol. I.— 21 310 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. WhUe Pietism had previously established orphan-houses and benevolent institutions, the humanitarianism or philanthro- pinism of the century now vied with it. Institutions and associations for the public good were established in different cities, and the best-disposed people united their labors. The spirit of association was rife. Thus Iselin aided in founding the Helvetic Society (1761), in which Hans Caspar Hirzel (the author of the philosophical Peasant Kleinjogg), Zellweger, Sarasin, and others took part, and with which Pfeffel and other social and free-thinking men were connected. Many branches of beneficence that had hitherto been helpless and isolated now revived and found supporters. I need only suggest that it was reserved for this century of philanthropy to introduce a wholesome method in the instruction of the bhnd, deaf, and dumb, and to transform prisons from gloomy caverns of despair and moral deterioration to institutions of humane disciphne.1 Therefore we will not cry out against that abused period without qualification. We may thank it for much that is beautiful and good, and for much that, though not decked off with any boastful Christian forms, was due to that true spirit of love and humanity which Christ himseU regarded as an evidence of discipleship (Matthew xxv.). And was it not also an advantage that this spirit of practical effort for the public good should react on the church and its ministers? The more unprejudiced and modest the ordained preachers of that time were, so much the more highly did they value the good effected by others who were not their professional brethren, and the more scientifically were they compeUed to confront the questions, whether the neglect of the people and the youth did not after all lie at the door of the clergy, and whether it was not a part of their duty to instruct and en- 1 Promoters of instruction of the deaf and dumb: Samuel Heinicke, , Abbe de l'Epee (1774); of the blind, Valentine Hauy (1780); of prison- discipline, John Howard (1775—87), the precursor of Miss Fry, Amelia Sieveking, and Osborne. [To these may be added three representative women of even a later day: Madame Guizot of France, Florence Night ingale of England, and Miss Dix of the United States. — J. F. H.] / I INCREASING TASTE FOR MERELY MORAL PREACHING. 311 lighten society as well as of the popular teachers and bene factors of civil appointment? They had to ask themselves whether, instead of annoying their congregations with dis puted dogmas in the old scholastic way, it was not more proper to give more attention to one's duties to his neighbor, as Christ himseU did in the parable of the Good Samaritan; whether it was not better, instead of always disputing with the Pietists as to what the grace of God produces in us, to say to men what they must do in order to make themselves and others happy in this world, to be good and useful citi zens, and good fathers and mothers; and whether the training of the people to be enlightened and reasonable men is not the first and most necessary point at which the fresh element of Christian training can most naturally be added? Thus there graduaUy arose a preference for moral preach ing, in antithesis to sermons bearing on faith. The sepa ration, however, was improper. Christianity takes no cogni zance of it, for it demands a living faith, which works by love and will have the living deeds which are the natural fruit of a sentiment of faith and love. Mere statements of faith for the understanding, without apphcation to lUe, are just as contrary to the spirit of Christianity as mere moral laws without the deeper base of the faith and love of God. But it often happens that man is betrayed from one extreme to an other, and that he exchanges one kind of death for another. There were many who, being attached more to form than to spirit, gave up a dead system of belief for a dead mo- raUty; that is, they relied on that outward righteousness by works which lays a higher stress on calculating utility than on the incalculable salvation of the soul. We do not mean that morality should not be preached. Christ and the Apos tles preached it too, and so did the Reformers, especially ZwingU. But the way in which morality was preached by many was not the true way. In the great haste after utiUty it was forgotten that man,— besides the hands with which he labors for his daily bread, the feet with which he walks and runs for the attainment of an earthly object, and the mind with which he perceives and thinks, — has also a heart 312 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. which longs for inner peace. It was just this care for the heart and attention to feeling that appeared to many of the utiUtarians as so much fanaticism and false sensibiUty. And thus it came to pass that the ever more pressing tend ency toward practical utihty (as, for example, was advanced by Campe, who placed the inventor of the spinning-wheel higher than Homer) pushed aside the discharge of the minis terial office, which deals with supersensuous things and the invisible world, — regarding it as something if not actually injurious to, yet restraining, the enUghtenment and real good of the people. On the other hand, the preachers of Ulumi- nism, and popular teachers in the modern sense, were very acceptable; and only in this sense was it conceded that there was a " utility of the ministerial office." We return to Nicolai, who, in his Sebaldus Nothanker, draws the picture of one of these preachers of utility, who knew how to make use of the Bible-text "as a harmless means for impressing useful truths."1 The hero of this romance boasts that "he was very studious to preach to his peasant-congregation to rise early in the morning, attend carefully to their cows, work in their fields and gardens as well as they could, and to do all this with the view of becoming comfortable, acquiring property, and getting rich." (Compare, on the contrary, Matthew vi. 33). There were many such Sebaldus preachers in cities and villages, though they did not always possess the humihty and plainness with which the author clothes his hero. Agriculture, housekeeping, and popular instruction on health; in short, a morality in which prudence constituted the principal means and temporal pros- perty the aim of our moral Ufe (eternal salvation being had in the bargain), were the subjects on which many preachers thought they could better instruct their hearers than on re pentance, faith, sin, the judgment, salvation, pardon, means 1 This character was highly impracticable, — an oddity, a chiliast, and, in the main, an extravagant saint. The Sermons published nnder his name (1776) were not written by the anthor of the romance, but were attempts to realize what the author claims in the passage cited. This may be seen in the 2nd vol. of the romance, p. 266. Comp. 272. ABOLITION OF CHRISTIAN SYMBOLISM. 313 of grace, and the kingdom of God.1 Indeed, there was a real theory of happiness formed, which was based upon that refined selfishness which some of the Deists had placed at the head of morality.2 The previous form of worship was naturally no longer adapted to this transparent preaching. All symbolism that serves to give a tangible support to the soul, and to awaken anticipations of the supersensuous, without being of any special use to civil and domestic life, was bitterly opposed to this Protestantism of the understanding. Priestcraft and Jesuitism, and all intentional stupefying of the people, by whatever name you call it, was reproached in violent terms. When, for ex ample, Nicolai regarded the lighting of the tapers at the altar, which he had seen during his journey to Nuremberg, as a thing that could be of no advantage to any one except the lamplighter and the sexton, he plainly betrays the com mon absence of sentiment for symbolism and its bearing on our exterior lUe. According to such a view the sacraments, were nothing but empty ceremonies, which were only per formed by the enlightened man because of popular prejudice. When there was no longer any faith in grace and the com munication of a higher hfe there were also no means of grace. Signs and symbols were made to mean nothing,3 and Basedow 1 In the Nothankerian Sermons there were discourses against lawsuits and superstition, on health, the duties of servants, etc. There was quite a passion for elaborate sermons for special classes and circum stances; and often a very unpopular popularity was aimed at. Schlez, Hahnzog, and others combated the superstition of the country people; and Steinbrenner, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, published Sermons on the Art of Prolonging Human Life, according to Hufeland's principles. Halle, 1804. 2 G. S. Steinbart, System der reinen Philosophic oder GUlckseligkeitslehre des Christenthums, fwr die Bediirfnisse seiner aufgeklarten Landsleute (first issued at Zullichau, iu 1778, and often republished). s See the description in Goethe's Leben. With this view, the proposition could subsequently be made (in Hufnagel's Litwrgische Blatter, to use, in the administration of the Lord's Supper, these words: "Enjoy this bread; may the spirit of worship rest upon you with full blessing! Enjoy a little wine! No virtuous power lies in this wine; it lies in yon, in God's doctrine, and in God," etc. 314 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. really attempted to prove to a dancing-master that infant- baptism was a superannuated institution. With this prosaic view of things, the idea of Christian festivals was also com pelled to go down. These rest upon the facts of a historical revelation; and the living remembrance of these facts, as well as the spiritual repetition in us of what has once occurred, is what gives them a festal character. We would ever re new in spirit the birth, sufferings, death, resurrection, and as cension of our Savior, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit; and we would spiritually experience them and become per vaded by them, — and this, too, in an elevated, solemn state of mind, — by the feeling of communion. And this feehng pos sesses in itself a priceless worth, apart from all further mor al results which must naturally follow as a blessing from a true festival. But that skeptical wisdom had not the faint est conception of this meaning of Christian festivals which, by their yearly return, preserve in the inner Ufe what nature preserves in the outer natural world by the changes of the seasons. Since it rendered doubtful the historical facts themselves, attaching small importance to even the per son of Christ, and since it adhered to only the moral portion of the doctrines of Jesus, Christian festivals were necessarily nothing else than exterior affairs, only designed to foster for the public benefit the same dry formality that was preached on Sundays. Would that they had always remained steadfast to the real, that is, Christian morals. But what morals do we hear now? I wUl not, inquire whether what is said is really true, that the Christmas festival was made use of to preach on feeding cattle, and the Easter festival to treat of the use of early rising and promenading. But similar things really did occur ; at least sermons were preached which had no reference to the festival whatever. But things went worst with the hymns. By means of this skeptical process very little sense was needed to hoist up and make ridiculous certain untasteful expressions. Indeed, the sense of those rational people seemed too plainly to be only nonsense and the ignorance of all poetry when they intended, with their wisdom, to improve the old sim- ADULTERATION OF THE HYMNS. 315 plicity. When, for example, in Paul Gerhard's Evening Hymn, "Now all the valleys rest," — which Frederick the Great called "foolish stuff," — there was the line, "Now slumbers all the world", it was urged, in opposition to the old learning, that the expression was foolish, since every child in these days knows (or, what is the use of Basedow's Elementary Work?) that if there is night in one hemisphere it must be day in the other. We must therefore say, "Now slumbers half the world." After aU, people cried, what is the use of hymns? What is the use of imagination and spirit? What is the use of these dark Oriental figures? For nothing is proved by them, and they contribute nothing to the common good. If a book of hymns is really tolerated at all, then must it, like preaching, an nounce a useful morality in comprehensible rhythmic prose. And because the old hymnists, from Luther's time down, had never written hymns on the good employment of time, friend ship, frugaUty, and temperance, a complaint arose in the midst of the abundance of the good and the beautiful, which the world did not know how to value, against the defective ness of the old hymn-books; and the attempt was made to supply this want by such effusions as the following: "To nourish and care for my body, 0 God, Is a duty thou placest upon^me; That it should not be ruined by my own fault, Thy instruction now teaches me plainly." And by another of this character: "Thou, 0 God, hast wisely ordained That we should busily labor; Thou wilt that each of thy creatures A help should be to his neighbor. Give me knowledge, joy, and power, With skill, with good faith, and pure heart To meet each duty at its hour."1 1 Both of these hymns may be found in the Basle Hymn-Book of 1809 (which are now removed), and also elsewhere. We might quote even worse examples than these. 316 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Yet the matter did not rest there. The old poetry was not merely converted into new prose, but water was poured into the old wine, so that no weak head was intoxicated by the earnest spirit. The poetry was cut down, emasculated, and corrupted in every possible way; and thus the new- fashioned hymn-books gradually arose which we now find it very difficult to get rid of.1 But, finally, the old Lutheran Translation of the Bible no longer corresponded to the spoiled taste of the times. It must be confessed that, in the light of the progress, in the study of ancient languages, and, the changes which the German language itself had undergone, there were many points in Luther's translation which were not properly rendered, and that therefore this translation, like all human work, needed improvement. But the attack was made less in behalf of the improvement of single pas sages than upon the whole lively coloring which the ener vated eyes could no longer endure. It was the whole ex pression of the pregnant language of Luther which the dull ears no longer welcomed. Every deference must now be paid to the human understanding, and everything beautiful must be paraded in the familiar and comfortable language of every-day Ufe. Moses, David, Isaiah, and even Christ him self, must now speak as they would have spoken if they had 1 Klopstock had already made a beginning to this supposed reform in hymn-books, yet he made more changes of a verbal than of a theo logical character, for the minstrel of the Messiah was not a friend of that new skepticism, and his own odes and songs were deeply rooted in faith in the Redeemer. Dieterich, Counselor in the Consistory in Berlin, a contemporary of Nicolai and a friend of Spalding and Teller, was charged with giving to the world the new-fashioned Berlin Hymn- Book (1765—80), which was introduced by Frederick the Great. This Berlin Hymn-Book was like the one published in Leipzig by Zollikoffer. But we should be very careful in expressing our opinion on the good purpose and candor of these men, who, in many respects, were truly estimable; but as to their conduct, which Herder himself severely cen sured, the times have already judged. For, however much our times may be divided in religious opinion, they agree in one thing: the new hymn-books of that period are obsolete, while the old ones, being by no means unexhausted fountains, can still be of great service in the restoration of ecclesiastical life. MODERNIZATION OF THE BIBLE. 317 been compelled to preach a trial-sermon before the new counselors in the consistories. Nothing dark, mysterious, typical, or mystical must any longer remain, but everything must be set up in the frame-work of an insipid prose. The prophecy must here be fulfilled, though in a different sense: "Every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain." Before the period of iUuminism proper, in the year 1735, the so-called Wertheim Bible had appeared, which, both in the tone of the translation and in the notes,. was an evident attempt to explain the Bible according to Wolfian principles. Its author, Lawrence Schmid, was accordingly placed under severe arrest (1737), and the book was interdicted from the country under penalty of perpetual banishment. Fifty years later, things were entirely different. Now such modernizing and circumlocutionary translations were sought in preference to Luther's plain translation. However, with us in Basle, the translation of Simon Grynaus (1776), — a very estimable preacher and by no means addicted to neology, — for a long time enjoyed great favor, but is now almost forgotten. Yet who would not rather say with Luther: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth," than with Grynaus: "God, besides whom there was nothing, made the beginning of all things by the creation of its material?" But the paraphrasing of the Bible and its recasting into modern conceptions were conducted in the most radical manner by the man whom I would in no way connect with the respectable Grynaus, but whom we must regard as the representative of the worst type of frivolous illuminism: Charles Frederick Bahrdt, whose life and opinions give us a personal view of neological excesses. Charles Frederick Bahrdt was. born at Bischofswerda, in Meissen, in the year 1741. After he had been properly trained by a private tutor he attended the celebrated preparatory school in that place, and then studied theology in Leipzig. He pursued his studies irregularly, like all shallow-pates who rely more upon their genius than upon solid knowledge. He soon gave himseU up to moral errors, a dissipated life, and 318 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. his boundless vanity. The spirit of disquiet and fickleness increased in him, and pursued him like an evU demon through his whole life. Bahrdt was not without talents, but instead of cultivating them he exposed their premature fruit. Accord ingly, he preached his first sermon in his seventeenth year. "Vanity, audacity, and confidence in my own strength," he says of himself, " together with a wish to gratify my parents, induced me to take this step." He pursued his theological course with the greatest frivolity, indeed, in the midst of earth ly thoughts and sinful pleasures and lusts. In order to satisfy his vanity his audacity increased from day to day, and he was strong in his resolution to shine in the professor's chair as well as in the pulpit. An exterior form of orthodoxy was made to further his ends; he wrote and delivered a thoroughly evangehcal dissertation, and made it his special pleasure to engage in public dispu tation. The young Leipzig Master, whom all were afraid of because of his glib tongue, now appeared as a public teacher; but he betrayed the greatest ignorance in his first lectures. About the same time he became a theological candidate, and his doubts on the received doctrines of the church had begun to arise when the position of a catechist in Leipzig was given to him. Yet it was not his theological doubts that attracted most attention, but his licentious life, which compelled him to leave Leipzig in 1768. He went to Erfurt, where he was installed Professor of Philosophy. Here he gave utterance to opinions at variance with the doctrines of the church, yet he did it in a modest form. Still, he excited the indignation of the theologians, especially those of Wittenberg. But the University of Erlangen did not hesitate to confer upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity. A foolish and unhappy marriage contributed still more to his life of dissipation. He left Erfurt and went to Giessen. The report of his skepticism had already reached there, and Bahrdt sought to destroy it in a manner which enables us to form a conception of the wickedness of his heart. As he himself says, he sought to give an orthodox character to his installation-sermon. "One only needs now," he adds, "to sound the name of Jesus very BAHRDT S TRANSLATION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 319 often a la Lavater to convince the great crowd that the speaker is teaching true Christianity. Therefore I did that which prudence dictated, and I delivered a real Christian sermon, that is, a sermon full of Christ!" With his dehvery, on which he ever bestowed much care, he immediately succeeded in gaining an audience and winning public sentiment. Together with his sermons he delivered theological lectures, and engaged in all sorts of literary plans. Still, he was not clear in his theological opinions, though he believed in the word of the Bible, or at least convinced himseU that the Bible was a fountain of divine truth. But he now sought by public misrepresentation to make the Scriptures of no use to orthodoxy. He translated the New Testament into the Bahrdtian theology, and thus arose his Newest Revelations of God in Letters and Stories, which Goethe thus excellently characterizes, when he lets him say in his prologue: "A chance idea struck my brain one day, — I spoke ahead as if I had been Christ!"1 Bahrdt made no secret of the fact that this Scriptural trans lation was a financial speculation, which he had composed " in the enjoyment of the beauties of nature," — that is, in the summer-house of a wine-merchant. Yet it was vastly less re munerative than Basedow's Elementary Work and the Universal German Library. A few bottles of old Stein wine were all the profit that he derived from dedicating his work to the Catholic Ducal Bishop of Wurzburg. But the great storm arose from the other side. The Protestant theologians, with Goetze at their head, avowed themselves as the opponents of the new revelations, and Bahrdt was compelled to look around for a new sphere of labor. The much-lauded Phil- anthropinism of the day had to come to his aid. Upon the re commendation of Basedow he assumed a position in the Swiss 1 It is remarkable that Goethe, who was not a positive Christian, made light of the so-called "Rational Christians," — Basedow, Nicolai, and Bahrdt, while he took great pleasure ill Jung-Stilling and Lavater. The same was the case with Lessing. 320 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Philanthropin of Von Salis, in Marschlinz. But he did not- long remain there, and again returned to Germany, where he became General Superintendent in Diirkheim-on-the-Hardt. Now he had a wide field for his moral sermons, though he still indulged in his private pleasures. At the instance of the prince an attempt was soon after ward made to establish Philanthropinism in the Ducal Castle of Heidenheim, near Worms. But this undertaking was at tended by new vexations, and the second edition of the New Testament, which had appeared in the meantime, awakened against the author the enmity of the Catholic clergy, and particularly of the Chapter at Worms. The translation was confiscated. Bahrdt traveled at once to Holland and England to solicit new inmates for the PhUanthropin, but he had scarcely returned from this journey when he met with the following imperial order: "Dr. Bahrdt is suspended from all his official functions, and declared unfit ever to hold a cler ical position in Germany." The displaced man hoped to find a refuge in Prussia, and went to Halle in 1779. But here Semler, in whom Bahrdt had hoped to find a friend, opposed him with great strength. He now made the acquaintance of Eberhard, the philosopher. This was the man who drove the last fragment of belief from Bahrdt's soul. Eberhard, formerly a preacher in Charlottenburg, was the author of the Apology of Socrates, or the Happiness of the Heathen, a work which created great attention at that time. While the earlier hyper- orthodoxy had unceremoniously condemned the bhnd heathens (whom Zwingli so greatly pitied), Rationahsm now so far reversed the sentiment that, without being pervaded by the true spirit of antiquity and the Socratic philosophy, it idealized Socrates into Christ without any reservation, or rather it lowered Christ to a level with Socrates. Both methods were unhistorical; therefore, both were untrue and unjust. But it was easy to convince an unhistorical and giddy head hke Bahrdt that Christ had laid down no important principles which Socrates had not taught him. Now Bahrdt felt ashamed that he, " the reasonable Bahrdt," as he himself says, " should beUeve in a revelation. Now the death-bell of my faith struck." BAHRDT S LAST NOTORIOUS WORKS. 321 But this was not said in sorrow, for in the same moment he glories that his soul has become light and that he has been bold in shaking off the fetters that had clogged him so long, or that he is as one who is suddenly elevated to an order of nobility. The former times were deemed by him the period of growth, but this the period of ripeness. "I regarded," thus runs his new confession, " Moses, Jesus, Con fucius, Socrates, Semler, and myself as the instruments of Providence, through which he is working for the welfare of humanity!" His notorious Letters on the Bible appeared in the .popular dialect at the same time with the third edition of his New-Testament. Their object was to strip from the Bible and the person of Christ every miraculous and mysteri ous charm, under the pretext of restoring Christianity to honor among the philosophers. It must have been a bad case with Christianity to need a Bahrdt to bring it to honor; a Bahrdt who, in his Ecclesiastical and Heretical Almanac, which he soon afterwards pubhshed, violently reproached the most of the living theologians as hypocrites or fools; a Bahrdt who, after having lectured some time on morality before a mixed audience, afterwards sold beer and wine in a tavern at Halle, until he was finally imprisoned as a libeler in Mag deburg, and, having been released, and now discontented and at enmity with the whole world, closed his miserable life in 1792. With this Ufe of Bahrdt we have followed the negative side of Protestantism in the eighteenth century to its farthest limits. It is high time that we now return to the positive or constructive side, and that we not merely ask what is doubted, what overthrown, and what cast down, but what is brought in opposition to this skepticism, and what is believed and taught on the positive side? LECTURE XT. PARALLEL BETWEEN SEMLER AND BAHRDT. — APOLOGISTS FOR CHRISTIANITY. NEWTON. — EULER. — HALLER; PASSAGES FROM HIS JOURNAL. — C. F. GELLERT. — HIS RELIGIOUS SONGS. — HIS LABORS AS TEACHER AND GUIDE OF YOUTH. At the conclusion of the last lecture we found in Bahrdt the skeptical theology of the century connected with roughness and frivolity of thought; and we can scarcely doubt that such a connection existed not only in his case, but in regard to many others who boasted of their skepticism and made a show of it to the world. We have examples, though I will not here recite them, particularly such as were current a- mong the youth of the universities, of this roughness, and indeed of vileness and sacrilege, in dealing with sacred mat ters.1 Skepticism and moral volatihty have ever been closely related, and they are to-day to be recognized as twin- children. Yet we would extend this relationship too far and make a great mistake if we should deny that with the old orthodoxy, as long as it was dead, and even with Pietism, as long as it was merely outward, there could be united an immoral, or at least quite unworthy and ignoble, manner of thinking and acting; or that, on the other hand, an honor able morality in doctrine might coexist with the effort for renewal, and that with doctrinal and philosophical doubts there might really subsist an earnest religious sentiment. *. Comp. the communications of Laukhard, in Tholuck's Vermischte Schriften, Vol. II. pp. 117, 118. A wager was made by students to de liver a Good-Friday Sermon in jolly student-language I PARALLEL BETWEEN SEMLER AND BAHRDT. 323 We shall become acquainted hereafter with such honorable men as made it the object of their life to contend for a neolo- gical piety. For the present, I shall recall Semler, who is already known to us. What a wonderful difference between him and Bahrdt! While, for example, Semler's life at home, the piety that prevaUed there, the peace and simplicity that ruled, and the majestic repose on the death-bed, reconcile us to the bold critic, we learn from Bahrdt's own lips that in his house not a sound of joy was heard from morning until night.1 His wife was a scold and he was one too ; she was disorderly and he was also; but he threw all the blame on her, and thus his whole career was only a succession of theological and do mestic errors, the recital of which I am glad to spare you. But I would call attention to the fact that the lauded geni ality which is accustomed to treat the holiest relations of hfe with levity is often connected with a false religious skep ticism, and that those who scream aloud at tyranny in the state and in the church do not hesitate to exercise the greatest tyranny in their own house. How roughly Bahrdt says that heaven had really given him eight children, but that not one of the boys was permitted to live. "It seems," says he, "that heaven will not permit my race to be contin ued; I do not know whether it is too good or too bad for the world."2 Unfortunately, the race of Bahrdt is stiU spir itually continued, and his descendants in the nineteenth century seem to have the old spirit. Semler has been charged with duplicity of character, and accused of weakness and inconsistency in giving impulse to free inquiry, and yet in boldly refusing an open door to Bahrdt, and of even actuaUy opposing him. But I can see well how this could be. When an architect, who would re move a house in order to build a new one in its place, or at least make a place for a new one, tears down more than he should, yet is always careful and considerate of- those who are passing by, — whom he is not willing to bury under 1 Leben Bahrdts, Vol. IV. p. 155. 8 Ibid., Vol. IV. p. 166. 324 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the ruins of the old timbers, — and some one wishes to come to his aid from a love of reckless destruction and -a desire to have his own wild joy over the crash produced, we can well understand how the unsohcited help is refused and even forcibly rejected. This was Semler's relation to Bahrdt; and it has reappeared at all times, though under different names and forms, and pervades the whole historical development. of Protestantism. Thus Miinzer and his company blamed Luther because he would not enter into theh: storm; and thus it has been a matter of surprise concerning many who were reckoned freethinkers that they were not to be found in the crowd of revolutionists and disturbers, but were actu ally opposed to them. This will always happen, and there will ever be people who cannot distinguish between the mere view of things and the real sentiment which occasions it, between the dead conception and the real life which under lies every conception, and between the letter of an external confession and that spirit which gives the true meaning to the confession and the key to its understanding. We now leave the negative tendency, which arose from a noble effort as well as from a common and rough one, and turn to the positive side of Christianity, as it was known and defended in science and as it was boldly maintained and experienced in life. For, in fact, we should form far too low a conception of Protestantism in the eighteenth century U we would believe that the negative tendency had all the upper hand, and that the only positive influence was a mere remnant of Pietism and its kindred tendencies. No ; even within the great ecclesiastical community in the philosophical and Uterary world we find a conservative activity, and many attempts in doctrine and in life to aid prostrate Christianity, to give rest and strength to the mind, to solve doubts, resist attacks, and restore the disturbed peace, whether it be in the path of a severe battle or of a mild agreement. But all who were ranked as defenders of the faith did not pursue the same course. While some were thoroughly resolv ed to give up nothing that they had recognized as Biblical Christianity (or, at most, to surrender obsolete ecclesiastical IMPORTANT DEFENDERS OF CHRISTIANITY. 325 forms, and permit a purer Biblical conception to take their place), others showed themselves more willing to abandon Biblical ideas as unreal, and were chiefly intent on regarding religion and morahty more in their general Christian char acter, and to preserve them from the abyss that threatened aU. Errors on both sides could not be avoided, and there were many here and there who discarded what was best and most valuable while they adhered to minor and immaterial points. As Tholuck says, " they were like that foolish house holder who cries 'thief and 'murder,' while he throws the best of his furniture out of the window." If it were our purpose to present a complete history of apologetics in the eighteenth century we would make a be ginning with England, where the opposition to Christianity first arose. We would then pass through France to Germany, and become acquainted with the names and books which are still important in the history of science, but which we : can scarcely use as a guide in our investigations. We have less to do with the names and works of individual writers than with the fact that Christianity was defended by the most worthy, the most gifted, and the most profound men of the century, and that it was maintained by the most revered and loved in their hfe, and was deeply planted in their heart. Therefore, laying others aside, I shall only speak of those defenders of Christianity who are really important because of their personal character and their position in the history of science and literature.1 I must make two observations at the outset. It has been repeatedly stated that theologians defended Christianity because of their calhng; they had to do it -because their outward con dition and vocation required it; could they have denied their vocation they would have united with the general spirit of the times. This charge is refuted by the fact that the most pro minent defenders of Christianity in the eighteenth century were 'Among English writers are distinguished as Apologists: Samuel Clarke (1704), Bntler (1706), Leland (1764), Lardner {Credibility of the Gospel History), Addison, and others. Among the Reformed French: Jacques Abbadie (f in Ireland, 1721) and J. A. Turretin. Vol. I— 22 326 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. not professional theologians or clergymen,but men who were In dependent enough to speak their sentiments as they wished, and who, if ambition had actuated them, would have had more honor by ranking themselves with the opponents of Chris tianity, and thus uniting with the spirit of the age. This is one observation. The other is, it has often been said, and especially repeated in our day, that progress in the natural sciences (astronomy and physics) has given a violent blow to faith in revelation ; so that it is no longer possible for a man who is versed in the secrets of nature to believe in miracles or in the mysteries of the invisible world. Yet this opinion, U not refuted, should at least be greatly qualified by the statement that just those men who were not professional theologians, but were among the first and greatest of their day, made great progress in mathematics, natural phUosophy, .and physics, — that Newton, Euler, and Albert von Haller were among the most decided defenders of revelation. We will merely caU to mind here Sir Isaac Newton, the greater part of whose lUe belongs to the seventeenth century. His predUection for the Apocalypse, and the risky calculations that he made in this department, have been lamented as a soft of wandering of his great mind. Possibly he did err here, as every mortal does, but this preference for the Rev elation of John was intimately connected with his reverence for the divine revelation of Christianity in general. The proofs by which he supported Christianity were possibly not always valid, because mathematical demonstration is not al ways sufficient in this department, and leads us astray rather than advances us. But his most eloquent apology is furnished us in the simple phenomenon itseU, that the man who measured and weighed the highest laws of nature with gigantic inteUect humbly submitted in that department where that secular wis dom which derives all its knowledge of nature from lexicons and penny-magazines lifts its head in extreme pride. I grant that it proves nothing in the strict sense of the word, but yet it tells us to stand still and reflect on its origin. How many skeptics, for example, stumble at the law of gravitation and yet ridicule the ascension of Christ, or similar miracles? PAUL EULER. 327 But how does it stand with their knowledge? Have they perceived or discovered that law by their understanding? No; they only call that the inevitable law of nature because others have so determined it; and they take it on trust whUe they insolently cast off the doctrines of the church. Newton did just the reverse. That which a thousand others followed him in believing and speaking rather than in discovering was inves tigated and fathomed by the strength of his genius, and he be lieved firmly what skeptics rejected as foolish and incredible. But the same truth applies to our two great countrymen, Euler and HaUer. It will compensate us to delay longer with them. Leonhard Euler, the son of Pastor Paul Euler, of Riehen, was born at that place on the 15th of April, 1707.1 He was educated in Basle. John Bernoulli, whose two sons Nicholas and Daniel were his friends, was his mathematical teacher. His preference for mathematics soon drew him from theology, for which his father had designed him; yet he unit ed as a Christian the study of mathematics with that of the Bible. Since the mode of appointment to academic positions by lot was unfavorable to him, he left his parental city and went to St. Petersburg, whither his friends, the BernouUis, had preceded him. There he labored in the Academy until 1741, when Frederick the Great caUed him to BerUn. We wfll not describe his services in the department of mathemat ics and physics in this place, for they are well enough known already. But we are less acquainted with his Rescue of Rev elation from the Attacks of Freethinkers, the work which he pubUshed during his stay at Berlin, in 1747, under the very eye Of the freethinking king: We shaU presently give some of its contents.2 It is important to notice, first of all, * See the Panegyric pronounced upon him by Fuss. Basle, 1786. 2 The work has been for a long time out of print. In the earlier editions of these Lectures I therefore made use of some extracts which had been translated into the French by- Genoude: La Baison du Chris- tianisme, Vol. L p. 343; with which we may compare Tholuck's Ver- mischte Schriften; Parfc I. p. 351. Recently, through the kindness of Publishers Haude and Spener,' I have received a transcript of the MS., *hich I published in 1851 in a School-Programme: Leonhard Euler, als Apologet dei Chrislenihums. From this I derive the following abstract. 328 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. that Euler regards revelation as not merely related to our knowledge but also to our will. With him, the perfection of humanity is the perfection of the understanding and the will, and their perfect equipoise. There is happiness only where the understanding and the will unite, when the understanding is directed to a knowledge of God, and the wUl is subject to the divine will. A disturbance of the relation leads to mis ery. "The understanding," says Euler strikingly, in refer ence to his times and our own, "can improve very much in knowledge without any improvement of the will. Experience proves this very well, for often the most acute men are least vktuous, and a high degree of virtue is frequently united with a very moderate understanding." Euler perceives a really diabohcal condition in the preponderance of a . sharp, corrupt, and analytical mind combined with the moral perversity of the wiU. "Why," he asks, "should there not be other intelUgent creatures besides man who far exceed him in understanding but are guilty of as great and even greater wickedness? If, therefore, these creatures pass by the name of spirits or devils, the so-called strong minds show very little understand ing when they cast their censure on the doctrine of devfls, saying that it is. only a fable." Our knowledge, according to Euler, is the measure of our obligation; a revelation which merely increases our knowledge without exercising our wiU and giving it new support would be a disadvantage rather than an advantage to mankind; it would increase our guilt and make it eternal. If we would use divine revelation for our salvation we must aim at the ¦ improvement of our will, and become so acquainted with the infinite perfections of God that we can have a perverted will without an increase of sin. To these demands the Christian revelation responds, for it leads those farther who are seriously intent upon the im provement of their will; and these find in the Scriptures the plainest exhibitions of theh* divine origin.1 1 According to Euler, it is even a necessary sign of a truly divine revelation that the evidences of its divine origin do not stand out plainly before everybody's eye. In that case, the responsibility of unbelievers would be the greater. EULER ON THE SCRIPTURES. 329 But, Euler holds, the shrewdest men of all ages did not discover the true source of our duties, which is love. But the Holy Scriptures, which open the fountain of the love of God, perform this work; and if the freethinkers take ex ception at expressions concerning God's Wrath, anger, and revenge, we must connect those expressions with the general idea which the Scriptures give of God, and then we shall find nothing in them that does violence to his highest majesty. Indeed, the Scriptures contain really the revelation of divine love. We find in them not only our duties described as law, but they also give us the motives and true means by which we can be led to the desired object. It is faith in a Prov idence which designs only our good, and it is a steadfast communion and relationship with the Supreme Being which supports in us the spirit of love both toward our friends and our enemies. The Holy Scriptures, the book which awakens and estabUshes such noble sentiments in us, cannot possibly be a work of deception; and to disbelieve it because it con tains miraculous accounts would only involve us in new diffi culties. As for miracles in particular, Euler is of the opinion that the miracle of the resurrection alone is sufficient to prove the divinity of the mission of Christ. Against this bulwark of Christianity all the attacks of the freethinkers must re bound harmlessly. J£ God had revealed himself in another way he would seem just as little right as he now seems to those men who find fault with everything. Indeed, a rev elation which would be acceptable to skeptics would certainly not be a divine revelation. It cannot be denied that there are many difficulties in the Scriptures that are not easily solved. But, why?, the famous geometrician asks. Shall we reject geometry as a useless science because it contains many difficulties? There are also, in it, the most demonstrable of all sciences, many difficulties which seem insoluble to a weak intellect, and which appear to be contradictions to a common understanding, but which we would see to be perfectly soluble on closer examination.1 But as Euler places the aim of rev- 4 He also adduces examples from physics, though they are not very forcible, for the question here is a very different kind of contradictions. 330 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. elation principally in the improvement of the will, so does he hold that the opposition of many men to the revelation of God has its real ground of support in the wiU; for is it not true that those who stumble at .everything in the Scriptures are very credulous in regard to other things? Euler, at the con clusion of his work, introduces a proof from astronomy, that a finite creation as well as a finite destruction of the world, both of which the freethinkers declare to be simply impos sible, perfectly accord with the observations on the relation of the sun to the remaining planets, for the earth, with them, is ever approaching the sun and must finaUy be des troyed by it. We will leave to the astronomers to prove the correctness of this last assertion.* The force of demon stration is as little dependent on, it as on other particulars. This lies in something very different., and here I repeat it, that Euler, apart from all mathematics and astronomy, seems to me to have taken the proper course in referring the whole doctrine of revelation to the practical department of a man's will and to the divine influence upon it. So long as the moral new birth does not occur, no apologetic proof will be found to be sufficient. Euler feels this keenly when he says, at the close: "However plain and unquestionable be the proofs for the divinity of the Holy Scriptures, it is not likely that "There have been people," says Euler, "who have utterly denied motion. They said, if a body moves, it must either be toward the place where it really is or toward another place. But the former cannot be the case; for so long as a body is in a place, no motion can be ascribed to it. Bnt the latter supposition is still more absurd, for how could a body move toward a place where it is not. Perhaps very few are able to discover the fallacy of this conclusion, but will they consequently doubt in the least the possibility of motion? Is it not therefore the great est temerity to stumble at the authority of the Holy Scriptures as soon as one imagines that he has found in them some insoluble difficulties?' 1 According to Halley's observations, the moon's revolution is claimed tp be completed sooner than was formerly the case, and also that the year is always getting shorter (though only a few seconds in every century), with which view Euler connects the resistance of ether. This hypothesis, however, is not accepted by the later physicists and astron omers. See the Notes on my Prggramm von Prof. Bud. Merian, already cited, p. 31. ALBERT VON HALLER. 331 the gang of freethinkers and religious scoffers will ever be turned from their foolish course. The Holy Scriptures assure us, rather, that the foolishness of these people will gain greater strength at the last times; and even the fulfillment of this prophecy is required to establish the divine truth of the Holy Scriptures. But so far as the Ufe of one man can furnish us evidence of the practical activity of Christianity do we learn that Euler, by the great simplicity of his thought, by his modesty, composure and great patience in the midst of suffering, remained steadfast as a pure Christian. He lost his right eye in 1735, and became totally blind in 1776, when he returned from BerUn to St. Petersburg. But he was joyous and submissive to God's wUl in this condition. He bore every misfortune, such as the burning of his house and library, with great patience. He died on the 7th of September, 1783. Though Newton and Euler controlled their age as astron omers, mathematicians, and physicists, Albert von Haller also stands before us in the first rank as a natural philosopher. Every one knows that the science of physiology (the dog matics of medicine) owes its foundation to him; and it is on just this science that those base their unbelief who assert that the spiritual element in man is only a mere work of his physical antecedents, and that it ceases to exist just as the body does. And here, too, it is apparent that the real heroes in science are more believing than their imitators. No one distinguishes more critically than Haller between man's phys ical Ego and his eternal, spiritual, and immortal being; be tween the soil in which the heavenly plant is rooted and the heavenly plant itself; just as he also, on the other hand, distinguishes between this plant and the invisible hand of Him who has planted it and cultivates it for heaven. I know well that this view of Haller, so far removed from pantheism and all worship of self and of the world, has been decried as a sort of intellectually vulgar affair, and that the modesty of his thought has been described as narrowness. How often has his expression been derided: "Nature's hidden truth is seen by no created mind; Happy he who sees with vision clear its outward rind." 332 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. But the husk with which the humble man is apparently satis fied contained a kernel far more precious than is imagined by many who would make themselves judges of God's creation. We will leave for others to describe what Haller has achieved as an anatomist and botanist in the rich department of natural science. ' But we ought to call attention to him once more as a poet. As we have already remarked, it is true that many of his poems so far bear in themselves the traces of the times that they present in verse phUosophical learning and prosaic thoughts, which appear stiff for this very reason. But whoever wUl do justice to the exterior form and poetic thought of his poems, and to the substance and inward fire of the poet, will pass a different opinion on Haller. Haller's Alps will yet stand when the Ught stratum of many modern poems shall have disappeared in the sand, and sunk in the morass of literature. Already the pure, pious, noble, and moral spirit pervading his poems awakens in us a favorable opinion of him as an apologist for Christianity, and we must presently treat of him in this character. Yet we must first speak of him as a man and a Christian. Albert von Haller, born in Berne, 1708, was descended from an old patrician family. He was the son of a jurist, and when a child he was very weak and a great sufferer; but his mind developed powerfully amid his physical sufferings. To speak with Lessing's teacher, a double supply of instruc tion was not sufficient to satiate his hunger for knowledge; he needed three or four times that amount. We wiU not consider the fact that when a child of four years of age he preached from a bench; but that the boy of nine years of age could translate the Greek New Testament shows how early he was at home where we have to seek him first of all, — on Biblical ground. Haller did not study theology, however, as had been the desire of his now deceased father, but medi cine. When in his' sixteenth year he visited the University of Tubingen, but he did not long remain there, on account of the wild spirit which prevaUed among the students. He went to Leyden, Holland, to hear the world-renowned Boerhave. This man not only exerted a great influence upon Haller's HALLERS LABORS AND HONORS. 333 scientific culture but upon his Christian sentiments. "A half- century will now soon be past," says Haller, "since I was an auditor of the immortal Boerhave; yet the venerable form of the most eloquent of all physicians stUl stands before my eyes; how often he told us about, and referred us to, the doctrines of the Savior : " That One who knew men far better than Socrates."1 Haller received the degree of Doctor of Medicine in his nineteenth year, and after malting a scholastic tour through Holland, England, and France, he returned to his native land in 1729. In Basle he availed himself of the instruction of Bernoulli for some time, in order to perfect himself in math ematics. Here he conceived the plan for his poem, The Alps; and since the Botanical Garden of our city was yet smaU and insignificant, he was attracted by the great garden of God around us, with its rich and variegated chaplet of flowers. Here too he entered into the most intimate friendship with DrolUnger and Stahelin, and having become rich in inner and outer experiences, he returned to Berne, where he began his ca reer as a physician. When fully immersed in his mathematical studies he united in marriage with Miss Mary Ann Wyss, who was soon taken from him in a most painful manner.2 This is a sad reminder that the Swiss cities of that day (Zurich alone excepted) permitted their greatest men to leave the country. Basle had driven off Euler by blind chance, and Wettstein by blind zeal; Berne was blind to Haller's service (they said there that a poet cannot be a good phy- 'sician), and gave Gottingen the renown of honoring the great man. In 1736 HaUer was chosen professor in Gottingen, where he was connected with others in founding the still- existing Reformed Church. He now advanced from one honor to another. The greatest universities of the century, — Upsala, Stockholm, Berlin, Bologna, Paris, Florence, Padua, Copen hagen, and St. Petersburg, — felt themselves flattered in number ing among their honorary members the physician and civil- * Briefe iiber die Offenbarung, p. 48. 8 Even on his wedding-day he was meditating on the Differential Calculus ! 334 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. counselor on whom Great Britain too had lavished her dig nities. After the death of Mosheim and Christian Wolf, the choice lay open to him to become chancellor of either Gottingen or Halle University, — for even Frederick the Great would have willingly employed the evangelical physician. But Haller preferred to return to his dearly-beloved Berne, where he died in 1777, a member of the Chief Council. While we know but little of Euler's inner Christianity, and could become acquainted with the root only by the fruit of his mild and patient life, the Journal of Haller, on the other hand, which was published by his friend Heinzmann, presents us with deep view's of his inner life, and even with those secrets of the heart struggling after God that can only be understood by those who have a similar experience. Haller became very sad after the death of his wife, whom he- lost by being thrown from a carriage after their arrival in Got tingen. While in this state he composed his noble Ode to the Departed, and at the same time censured himself severely for the hardness of his heart and his former religious cold ness in prayer and efforts after holiness.1 He laments that he still has no real interest in the merits of Christ, and thus sighs to God: "Soften my unfeeling heart; teach me to know Jesus and to believe him, — not merely with the lips, but to appropriate his merits. Oh teach me, when I am sad, not to rely upon the world for consolation, but to return to Thee, who hast true wealth, in comparison with which all that I have lost is nothing. Oh give me another heart, which does not dissemble, but will love Thee, be Thine alone, — without an exceptibn!" In May, 1744, he writes: "Oh that I could think of eternity in this stillness, and value the miserable ad vantages of this transitory life in their real insignificance! Oh that I not only knew but felt that there is no peace 1 This Ode alone is worth thousands of the ambiguous anil jingling sonnets and cantos with which many modern poetasters would bless us. But also its contents (and every syllable has its meaning) are more be neficent than the phrensied poetry which has so delighted Young Ger many, Young France, and Young Switzerland, HALLER'S AFFLICTIONS AND PIETY. 335 without God, and that the most happy Ufe is nothing but a sad dream which eternity will terminate!" In October of the same year, he says: "Without God the human heart is a ceaselessly stormy sea, and as long as man seeks his happi ness in vanity so long will he live without rest and salvation." HaUer married again, but his second wife died soon after ward. He also lost a number of children. It was after these many misfortunes that he wrote, in November, 1744, this truly tragical passage: "Years pass by; misfortunes threaten me, take hold upon me, or pass me by. My wives die in my arms; my children depart from me; my bodily weak nesses remind me of death; and I sleep, awake, with open eyes, and compel myself when awake to go to sleep again! What a perversion! Oh God, shall it last as long as I must last?" In his latest years he complains of his sadness, and charges his heart with murmuring against God while exter nally it seems to trust in him. "My God," says he again, "Thou who placest the burden upon me, help me to bear it! For without Thy aid I must languish, and if I had not ex perienced Thy help, what would have become of me ? Still aid me my God and Father! Draw me to Thee! If I only possess Thee, if I can only expect a blessed eternity, how soon will aU my complaints subside, and how calmly and joy- fuUy will I suffer amid the greatest bodily anguish! For what can be painful and terrible to him who sees a happy eternity near at hand? But, alas, how far I am still removed from it! How Uttle do my imperfections permit me to repose upon these sweetest hopes! Oh help me, great Savior, to improve my corrupt heart!" Shortly before his death, after the Emperor Joseph H. had paid him a visit, he wrote in his journal: "Something flattering to my vanity and selfish ness has just happened. But let me not forget, oh my God, that my happiness does not depend on man, from whose favor or enmity I shaU have nothing more to fear or hope in a few minutes! Remind me that it is the only true happiness to know Thee, love Thee, be assured of Thy favor, and find in Thee my reconciled God and Judge." A few days after this imperial visit a clergyman congratulated him upon the 336 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. honor, when Haller replied: "Rejoice because your names are written in heaven." It can surprise no one that a man who was so serious with himself, and who decided the least vanity to be sin, and the least discontent to be murmuring against God, should feel it his duty to defend Christianity. And to this inner call there came an external impulse, for about the same time the philosophy of Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists had become most widely disseminated. Haller did not fear the poisoned arrows with which La Mettrie persecuted him, nor the calumny that was circulated concerning his morality. In 1775 he wrote his Letters on Certain Charges of Living Freethinkers against Revelation; but three years earlier, in 1772, he had published his Letters on the Most Important Truths of Rev elation, which had been originally designed to conclude his romance, Usong (an Eastern story). But Haller's delicate sense prevented him from connecting such serious thoughts on eternal things with a history "in which so much is said of love, and wars, and other matters of common life," while the present generation rejoices to see the most holy con victions clad in romance and fiction. He therefore published the letters under the title of Letters of a Father to' his Be loved Daughter (Madame von Jenner). And it is in these particularly that we find his views of Christianity developed in progressive thoughts. Haller more fully demonstrates here the principles which he had expressed in his poem on the Origin of Sin, composed on the Gurten, near Berne, in full view of the grand scenery of the Alps, and commencing thus: "We are all corrupt; sin's poisonous breath, Through human guilt, has made this scene of death." Like Euler, he takes his position in jthe practical sphere. In his first Letter he says: "We must ourselves perceive, feel, and affirm the truths of religion with all the strength of the understanding and the heart, tf we would have them relieve our sufferings." In his views of human depravity Haller certainly deviates greatly from the philanthropise ideal of innocent human nature. In Ins second Letter he says: "These new wise men have carried their pride so far that they deny the corruption HALLER'S SEVERITY OF MORAL JUDGMENT. 337 of the human heart, and only limit it to the greatest criminals and their own enemies, — for they find colossal burdens resting on those they hate." But Haller was very exact with regard to sin. The outward decorum with which many know how to conceal their own selfishness did not blind the eye of this penetrating physiologist: "But slight the shade between the touch of the skin, And, without deceit, to send the dart within." He who criticized very severely every moderate impatience, every excitement of selfishness, and every vestige of volatility, wrath, and vanity in himself, knew how to feel the moral pulse of others. And, indeed, this severity of moral judg ment was of far more advantage to pure morality than pleas ant and false phrases on the dignity and excellence of human nature could have been. While Voltaire and C. F. Bahrdt boast of their virtues unblushingly before God and man, or pride themselves on their wickedness, Albert von Haller grieves over his guilt, and striking his breast, says with the pub lican: "God be merciful to me a sinner!" Certainly there is not only a pietistical but also a rational istic, phUosophical, and philanthropical phariseeism. It was this which Haller opposed with all the acuteness of his moral nature. He therefore built up his apology on the corruption of human nature; but he did not stand there, any more than the Apostle Paul stood continually on his Epistle to the Romans, but he advanced from it to the mystery of redemp tion. " The first view of this mystery," says he, " is like that of a mountain, where our understanding is astounded, our wisdom grows dizzy, and reason loses its strength. The eternal, incomprehensible God distinguishes one of his smallest planets; he concerns himself for the salvation of the poor worms who hve on this earth; communicates himself to them, as he alone can communicate; unites himself most intimately to our humanity, directing the thoughts, deeds, and doctrines of men through the steps of his earthly lUe down to a pitiful and ignominious death." Whether we accept Haller's idea of redemption or not, it is elevating and affecting to see such 338 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. a great intellect as his bow in wonder before this majesty of the divine counsel where the small spirit of skeptics rises with its bold strokes of doubt. Haller tarries first at the doctrine of Christ, whose glory and perfection he proves to be beyond all other moral doctrines, although he does not find in it the proof of his divine mission. With most of the apologists of his period, he finds this proof chiefly in prophecies and miracles; and, hke Euler, he deems the resurrection of Christ the chief miracle. His conclusion is, that the divine authority of Christ is established by the ful fillment of prophecy and the miracles of Christ ; and we must accept the revelations that he communicates as divine. The greatest and most important of these revelations is, in Haller's opinion, that the death of Christ is the means of forgiving the sins of man. Upon this doctrine he rests as the anchor of our salvation; it is to him the fundamental doctrine of Chris tianity; and although he grants that God could, perhaps', have found other means to save man, yet herein he recognizes a special proof of divine grace. ' And it is just this activity of divine grace in the hearts of believers to which he commits himself humbly and confidently. "As we cannot understand many things," says he, "so we do not understand the meta physical manner in which divine grace illuminates us, and how it operates upon us. But no one will have seriously given himself to God who has not experienced the operation of grace just as positively as he has felt the impulses of sin. . . . The fire with which grace animates our longing for improvement, the writing of fire with which the knowl edge of our unworthiness is engraved upon the heart, and the burning desire for the experience of divine grace, are the emotions which man can experience with all the proper en joyment of his reason. I am therefore assured that we have in divine grace an Almighty Helper, who delivers us from the chains of sin and elevates us to higher purposes." But with this elevation of grace Haller does not deny human freedom, but regards it as a means for our improvement, and, in reference to eternity, that pillar of cloud which we should follow through the wilderness of life. The work closes GELLERT, THE LYRIC POET. 339 with this view, and with the hope of finding his beloved daughter again, to whom the Letters were addressed. We mentioned Haller as a poet. He was a didactic poet and poetical philosopher, but not a lyric poet; therefore we do not have from him any hymns. But this is the best oc casion to speak of a man who, though he wrote no special work in defence of Christianity, did far more by his life, writings, and above all by his hymns, than could have been done by learned apologists. It was by this means he became one of the most eloquent defenders of Christianity, and just such an one as the times needed. I mean Christian Fiirchte- gott Gellert, whom we have known from youth. I take for granted that you are acquainted with his life, which, though not rich in outward incident, yet abounded in various suffer ings and quiet joys. Gellert, the son of a preacher, was born on the 4th of July, 1715, at Haynichen, a small city in the Erz Mountains. He attended the Ducal School at Meissen, and afterwards the University of Leipzig, where he subsequently became Professor of Ethics, and where, with the exception of one journey to BerUn and a few tours to watering-places, he spent and ended his whole suffering Ufe. He died on the 13th of December, 1769.1 Thus much for his outward Ufe. As to his inner life and his relation to Christianity, we must view him in two characters: as a spiritual lyrist and as a professor in the university. Gellert, the man and the teacher, combined both these characters. In order to judge Gellert aright as a lyrical writer we must occupy the standpoint of his times. I have previously ¦remarked that the taste for the old spiritual songs was at that time nearly gone. The spirit of the age had become too perverted to enjoy their pregnant, pithy, and strongly de fined sentiment. People took exception at the form, and the contents were not appreciated. I have also said that much wrong was done by arbitrarily changing these hymns. Every body was not content with those of Pietism, with many of 1 Besides his Biography by Cramer (in the edition of his Werke) we may compare the Gellertbuch, published by F. Naumann. Dresden, 1854. A 340 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. which we are acquainted. Still less enjoyment was derived from the moral rhymes which were subsequently circulated. Also Klopstock's and Cramer's spiritual songs, which were not always a felicitous imitation of the Psalms, had a smack of bombast; and they were regarded as too studied, and could not find their way to the popular heart. The times, there fore, called loudly for a lyrist who would know how to ex press Christian sentiments and views of life in a style adapt ed to modern language and quite comprehensible by every child; who would clothe his poems with morality, yet with out depriving them of a deep religious basis; and who, by his pious personal character, and by his confiding, amiable, and friendly feelings, would know how to win the affections of decided Christians as well as those of skeptics and humanists. Gellert was just such a man. Although his songs were not always of the highest poetic value, they were yet so fully the expression of his own pious soul that they necessarily found a response in sympathetic hearts, or at least were sus ceptible of similar feelings.. Cramer, bis friend and biographer, assures us that he never wrote spiritual poetry "without carefully preparing himself, and without striving, with all the energy of his soul, to experience in his own heart the truth of those sentiments which he was about to describe. He chose his happiest moments for this purpose, and would cease writing until the proper mental posture was recovered." Hence the very favorable reception of these songs, and the blessing they became to the age. Immediately after . their appearance many of them were published in new hymn-books, — for example, in those of Leipzig and Bremen, — and really formed the best part of those books, for they were generally published in an unchanged form. It is characteristic of the prosaic tendency of the age that, as we are told, Gellert's hymn: "Let my first feeling be praise and thanks," was changed into "Let my first business be praise and thanks!"1 1 Werke, Leipzig, 1839. Vol. X. p. 319 (however, the publisher doubts the truth of the anecdote). Still, if not true, it has been well invented. Some say that the words, "My first business," stand literally in the first edition of Gellert's Hymns. RECENT OBJECTIONS TO GELLERT'S HYMNS. 341 GeUert's hymns found a cordial reception even among the Roman CathoUc clergy. In Bohemia, there was a CathoUc rural pastor who was so affected by them that he wrote to GeUert that the latter "should enter the Catholic Church, which could appreciate the good works he had performed by his songs far better than the Protestants." GeUert also found admirers in Milan, Vienna and other great Catholic cities. True, the praise of GeUert's hymns is not so unqualified in our day. It is rather the fashion now to treat him and Haller Ughtly, and by doing so one is said to be a genius, and to comprehend his age. But if we ask why many who really understand our period and pass a proper opinion on such things, have come to oppose the hymns of Gellert, we shall find that their opposition has two causes: a rigid view of faith, and a purely artistic one. On both sides the hostil ity is not altogether without warrant. As to the artistic and sesthetic standpoint, we agree with the critics, that Gellert's hymns are not altogether such as can be sung; that many are really mere rhythmic prose, good pious thoughts in verse; indeed, that many which can be sung are far better suited for the piano than for the organ, and much more adapted to the quiet drawing-room than the great church. The new hymn-books have adopted many of Gellert's hymns which I would desire were left out. Such hymns as: "To stand against the charm of pleasure," are not suited for church- hymns; they are good moral exhortations in verse, suitable for learning by rote in the schools; and in this sphere they are important, but are not at aU adapted to singing in the church. But GeUert did not even design them for th'is purpose. He says himseU that not aU his hymns are strictly such, and he gave them the more appropriate name of "odes."1 I further grant to the critics, that, though the language in Gellert's hymns is generally very flowing, which gives them so great favor with many, they sometimes grate upon the ear. I am reminded of that familiar line: "Live as thou, when thou diest, wilt wish thou hadst lived!" * See his letter to Borchward, the 3rd of June, 1756 ( Werke, Vol. VEL p. 185). Vol. I.— 23 342 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. But with all this, I maintain that the rhythm for which our modern poetry is praised, and which belongs like a comet's tail to the real nature of the romantic school, is often not worth more than the contents of only one of GeUert's or Haller's poems, — even if we should altogether exclude the moral point of view from the artistic judgment. The objection to Gellert's hymns on the score of faith seems to me much more important than the aesthetic charge. With all their outspoken orthodoxy there is also perceptible a moralizing tendency, which does not so much proceed from a deep evangelical basis as it stands in outward connection with that orthodoxy, so that certain of Gellert's hymns, with perhaps the omission of some strophe or another, might be appropriately sung by Deists and naturalists, and were indeed sung by them with pleasure. Special exception has been taken at the use of language in them, by which human virtue is sometimes clothed with a certain degree of independence which does not harmonize with the strong language of Paul's doctrine; and hence the expression of the CathoUc priest al ready cited. There is really some foundation for this observa tion; but it would be very unjust to deny the Christian character of Gellert's hymns, for we might just as well deny Christianity in many portions of the Holy Scriptures ; as, for example, in the Epistle of James. As this Epistle opposed a false reliance on dead faith, and recommended works, so did Gellert write poetry against the delay of conversion, and because of this connection he wrote, among others, the words for which some have greatly reproached him: "A single sigh in bitter need, A single wish, through Jesus' blood, To stand as just before the throne, Will not remove sin's guilty flood." But, on the other hand, he greatly glories in this death as the only ground of his salvation. He bows low as a sinner before the grace in Christ which alone is able to save him. Verily, whoever understands Gellert's whole relationship and life, — and who does not know him, — wUl certainly free him gellert's future influence. 343 from all Pelagian pride of virtue, and from all Pharisaical self-righteousness. As one passage of the Holy Scriptures is explained by another, so is one of Gellert's hymns explained by another, and the hymns themselves are explained by the poet and his character. More poetry apparently Christian can be composed; with the flexibUity and versatility which our language has now acquired, the heartiness and frankness of faith in the earlier period, and the language of Mystics and of the orthodox, can be united in modern romantic color. But with all this, the simple, warm language of Gellert cannot be suppUed, for it is the expression of an inner, seU-realized truth. Gellert will long continue to be the poet of our people. He wfll long remain the organ of pious mothers, to plant in the hearts of tender youth the germs of virtue and of piety; and wherever the principles of Young Germany have not destroyed aU relish for the old German discipline and honesty he will yet preserve many a young man from the errors of sin. He wUl comfort many diseased and tempted ones; and though only very few of his hymns are suitable for church- hymns in the highest sense, these few, such as his Christmas Hymn: "This is the day the Lord hath made," and his Easter Hymn: "Jesus lives and Hive with him," will elevate the festal joy of Christian congregations and aid in the triumph of faith over the world, long after many other hymns shaU have been forgotten. Gellert has not merely in fluenced his own generation by means of his hymns, but has operated far out upon the future; and though the modest man wished nothing more than that he might be met by individ uals with the words: "You have saved my soul, — you!," yet in heaven thousands will thank him that they have been blessed during his life on earth, as that Prussian sergeant did, who walked twenty miles out of his way to press the hand of the man who had been the instrument of his salvation!1 But Gellert was of very beneficial influence as professor in the university by his lectures, by his intercourse with the 1 See my Treatise on Gellert as a Lyric Poet, in the Gellertbuch, p. 38 ff. 344 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. students, and by the example that he set them. As for his moral lectures, our times have long since decided that they were very tedious; and what does our age not find tedious? It is possible that we are correct in imagining that these extended disquisitions on universally known truths charm the reader neither by vivacious periods nor by profound specula tions. But yet those lectures were numerously attended by people of all ages and conditions. The number of his hearers often amounted to four hundred and over. And these lect ures did not stand isolated as mere academic work, — as a course which could be read just as any other; they took hold upon the life, and formed an internal, personal link between Gellert and his hearers. The pious minstrel had an oppor tunity to sow the seeds of his peaceful doctrines in the hearts of many warriors in the midst of the sound of arms in the Seven Years' War. For his sake, Leipzig was more spared from the quartering of troops than other cities. He was hon ored with an interview not only with the royal princes, Charles and Henry, but with King Frederick H. The inter view with the latter did not relate to hymns, nor to clerical matters in any sense. Gellert had to recite one of his fables to Frederick, who chose The Painter, and took great pleas ure in it. "There is something so flowing in his verses," said the king, " that I understand everything. . . . I did not understand a word of Gottsched. Now, as long as I remain here, he must come often, and bring his fables with him and read something to me." Frederick did not summon him again, but said at the table that Gellert "was the most reasonable scholar he ever knew." It may be said of his intercourse with the students that the serious man, pressed down by hypochondria, was not al ways attractive to vivacious youth; and therefore such genial minds as Lessing and Goethe were not interested in him. But his influence upon the multitude was all the more bene ficial. That a writer of fables and comedies could be witty and joyous, conscientiously attend divine service, be so punctual in the discharge of all his duties, offer prayer so seriously, and recommend it to all young people as the GELLERT'S COMPLAINT AT HIS TIMES. 345 only safeguard against temptation, necessarily made a very powerful impression upon many. "Even his significant si lence," says Cramer, " was often as instructive as his lectures." No doubt Lessing, when a student, derived a peculiar im pression when once visiting Gellert on finding him deeply engaged in reading a reUgious book. Lessing counseled the sick man to lay aside the devotional work, and recommended him to read something more vivacious and amusing; but Gellert replied: "Do not disturb me in my faith, in the only consolation of my sickness." Lessing then found it well to take his departure.1 Gellert is sufficiently known as a man and a Christian. His first principle, as with Euler and Haller, was that we must experience Christianity in ourselves in order to be able to defend its truth and divine character against its opponents. He found fault with his times that so many accepted merely the form of Christianity without acting in accordance with its principles,2 and that religion was only studied as a learned system, and was therefore practiced with pride rather than humility. "Would to God," said he, "that we were taught in early Ufe that religion is not a trade, but that we were led -to the divine and sweet principles which it per forms and enjoins; and that we would continue to study this rehgion as our minds increase, and make its truth the perma nent and living impulse for the improvement of our hearts !" Thus Gellert himseU acted; and thus did his life, sufferings, and death, as well as his hymns and other writings, become the most eloquent defence of Christianity, although his province was not a scientific treatment of doctrines. He was far sur passed by many of his contemporaries in keenness, philo sophical depth, theological learning, and originaUty. He stands far below HaUer on the one hand and Lessing on the other. Nor was any one more impressed with this fact than the modest man himseU. His natural seriousness did not permit him to continue bis religious inquiries until his mind encount ered difficulties. "He hated," says Cramer, "all doubts con- * See Lessing's Leben, by his Brother, p. 53. • Leben, by Cramer, p. 202. 346 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. nected with religion," and so he evaded them rather than fought against them. We now meet with a disadvantage which the strongest ad mirers of Gellert's writings cannot overlook: a certain indis tinctness of ideas, which could not be easily perceived by the moderate thinkers, who were quite content with the more general religious and moral conceptions (which are associated in Gellert with those of more decidedly Christian character), without endeavoring to find a more positive and fixed basis for their faith. Yet we must regard this disadvantage of much less importance when we compare it with that opposite one from which the earlier period suffered, when people were ac customed to calculate definitely with the mind concerning the dogmas of the church, as taught in the catechism, while the heart remained frequently cold and insensible, and the moral side of Christianity received no attention. The former defenders of Christianity, — Euler, Haller and others, whom we have now become acquainted with, — had more to do with the influence of English and French Deists; and even Gellert had armed himseU particularly against them. The position of the defenders of Christianity was far differ ent when the naturalistic tendency made important progress in Germany, when (as we have learned from the last lect ures) the Wolfenbuttel Fragments were issued by Lessing, ' and when, by means of Basedow and Nicolai, illuminism in Germany, — particularly in the north, and above aU in Ber lin, — reached its highest degree. Here arose a peculiar crisis for the apologists; henceforth they divided more distinctly than formerly into equal parties, one of which awaited an attack on its strongly fortified lines, without performing any action or coming to any understanding, while the other, from a good design, thought that they must yield, and bring an offering to the spirit of the times. The former strove to expel aUo- pathically the disease of unbelief, as a disease of the age, by the strongest remedies, and even by force. The latter tried to do it homeopathically, while it undertook to overcome the irreligious illuminism by means of a religious illuminism. In this way it exposed itself, with more or less ground, to PRESENT DEPRECIATION OF SEMI-RATIONALISTS. 347 the danger of being numbered among freethinkers, or at least among those who did not rely upon Christiamty. And yet we find among these homeopathists such very respectable persons as Jerusalem, Sack, Spalding, Zollikoffer, and Teller. These men deserve far more respect than our times, without knowing much more than their names, have very unreason ably pronounced on them, as well as on Haller and Gellert. In the next lecture we shaU take pleasure in forming their acquaintance. LECTIJKE XVL TRANSITION FROM APOLOGETICS TO SEMI-RATIONALISM. — JERUSALEM. — SACK. — SPALDING. — ZOLLIKOFFER. — MORE DECIDED APPEARANCE OF RATIONALISM IN TELLER. — THE RELIGIOUS EDICT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. We treated in the last lecture principally of the defenders and practical supporters of Christianity, who were such men as took this course not merely because they were professional teachers of theology, or settled pastors, but were actuated by the purest motives of the heart. We now come to a class of preachers and theologians who, like those men, were im pressed with the high dignity of religion, and like them were animated by the effort to deliver what was sacred from unholy hands, save it from derision, and restore it to the respect of thinking and cultivated people. But they were affected more or less by the spirit of the age, and honestly designed to come to an agreement with it. They placed be fore themselves the task of promulgating Christianity as in harmony with reason, and purified from all its former pre judices, first to the cultivated classes and then to the common people. We must not confound those men with radical as sailants and frivolous fellows like Bahrdt, even though some of their views may have harmonized with those entertained by that class. As already remarked, the question is not so much in regard to individual views as the general sentiment from which they proceed and with which they are conducted; and while we compare these radicals with Thomas Miinzer, . we would place the other class beside Melanchthon, or at least INJUSTICE TOWARD THE SEMI-RATIONALISTS. 349 Erasmus. They were, at any rate, the Melanchthons of the eighteenth century ; but on the whole, they acted as Erasmus did. Their submissiveness, which we would not altogether exculpate from weakness, drew upon them from both sides contempt, hatred, vexation, and just such misconceptions as they themselves indulged, but for which they had to smart. Can there be anything more fatal for a man who is con scious of his honest and virtuous purposes than to be mis judged a heretic, and fanatically condemned by his contem poraries, and even by posterity down to the third and fourth generations? Now this has been the portion of the men with whom we are now to become acquainted. Because we are ac customed to pass an opinion on a man's faith, his religious ness, and his Christian sentiment, — merely according to the language of the confession, and even single passages of it, — errors of the understanding, prejudices of religious ideas, and mistakes in teaching frequently obtrude upon the conscience, and a premature conclusion is forced upon the heart. But even this is far safer than wishing to know nothing of the heart at aU, and to construe and judge religious truths by the mere force of the mind. I am always very sorry to hear noble men, who shone in their day as teachers and leaders of religion and morality, decried unceremoniously as skeptical, unchristian, and even as anti-christian teachers; because I am fully convinced that they stood nearer to true Christianity in heart and sentiment than many speculative thinkers of our day, whose reason may have taken a deeper hold upon Christian doctrine than those men, and who may occupy themselves excellently with statements and formulas that have a Christian sound, but have not therefore experi enced an equal moral elevation and purification. But I will by no means declare that the theology of those men was true, or should now prevail in the church; indeed, I believe that in many respects it was a distorted picture of its times. I do not ignore the mistakes of their teachings and the serious errors in which they themselves were en tangled far less than those who relied upon their authority, and often drew very unfair conclusions from it. And I would 350 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. therefore by no means recommend their writings as proper food for our times. I believe that our Christian knowledge has gone far beyond this point, and I rejoice at it; but since we previously designed to value the good and respect the character of CathoUcs and Protestants, the orthodox and heterodox, Mystics and Pietists, and make due allowance for their errors, so we would pursue the same course of candor here. We mention first of all the Abbot Jerusalem, a man who was a contemporary of Gellert and friendly to him, and who is connected with the former apologists for Christianity. John Frederick William Jerusalem was born in 1709 at Osnabriick, where his father was First Preacher andSuperintend- ent. After receiving his academic training he visited the University of Leipzig, and subsequently of Leyden; after which he made a journey through Holland, and became acquainted with men and sects of various sentiments and persuasions. But he knew how to value the good in them all. As he himself tells us in his Autobiography: "I had great pleasure in becoming acquainted with the worthiest and most upright men; and the more my acquaintance and friendship with them increased, I had the happy experience, which is gratify ing to every honest lover of Jesus, of learning how. fruitful the real principles of Christianity are in good souls, notwith standing a difference of doctrine."1 Soon after his return to Germany, Jerusalem went as the guardian of two young noblemen to the newly-founded University of Gottingen, and then made a journey to England, where, as in Holland, he enjoyed the acquaintance of all in whom he could anticipate purity of sentiment. At the out break of the Silesian War he again trod upon German soil, and after he had continued some time as a private tutor in Hanover, he became Court-Preacher of the Duke Carl of Brunswick, and teacher of his sons. He was subsequently honored with various ecclesiastical dignities and titles. As there had existed in Brunswick from the time of the Refor mation the institution of provostships and abbacies, the dukes 1 Reprinted in full in his Nachgelassene Schriften. (Brunswick, 1793), Part II. JERUSALEM ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. ' 351 made use of them to adorn worthy men with honorable titles ; and thus Jerusalem was made Abbot of Marienthal, and later of Riddagshausen. He died in 1789, at the age of eighty years, when Vice-President of the Ducal Consistory at Wolfen buttel. He had been of great service in many respects to Brunswick. The CaroUnum CoUege owes its institution to him, and he likewise made himself of service in founding in stitutions for the poor. His writings and addresses show what clear and fruitful views this man had in both these important departments, — education and alms-giving. He said many excellent things on religious instruction in the higher schools of his day. I cannot refrain from repeating some of his words on the subject. "It is very sad," says he, "that, according to the former method, religious instruc tion ceases just when the understanding begins to mature, and that young people therefore receive for their whole future life no other knowledge of Christianity than what remains to them of this very defective instruction in youth. Public sermons cannot supply this want, and it is just these young people, who, because of their manifold employments and relations, have the greatest influence upon human society." Jerusalem was correct in attributing two causes to this defect in the proper reUgious training of youth: either a com plete depreciation of religion and of public worship or mere exterior attachment to the form, from mere trivial policy, which, with a personal want of religion, struggles all the more blindly against all freedom of thought and enlighten ment, because it cannot distinguish the true from the false. "We have generally," says he, "too Uttle true Christianity; we have Christians enough in name, but too few who under stand it clearly and with deep conviction, according to its inner divine truth, — who perceive its whole blessedness, and know that it is the only true doctrine of salvation." While Basedow and his successors sundered education from Christian soil, Jerusalem strove to strengthen the bond be tween the church and the school; but in order to do this, he desired also .that the church should receive in itself the light 1 Nachgelassene Schriften, Vol.. EC. p. 203. 352 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. which began to spread more and more from the school. He complained that, in the former academic training, far too much dependence was placed upon the learning of the future theo logian, and he attributed to the spirit of the century the demand for a wider culture for humanity, as well for future theologians as for aU others. Without wishing to depreciate the ancient languages, he found fault with the preponderance given to them, and sought particularly to increase the study of natural science, and the discipline in the German mother- tongue. The development of the German language and litera ture, which began just at that time, lay very near his heart. A statement on this subject in his writings deserves to be recalled.1 Jerusalem exercised a very beneficial influence on the pov erty of his times and country, as on the instruction of the young. He here rendered great service. The earlier period had certainly been also beneficent, but beneficence was con fined rather to mere alms-giving. Jerusalem sought (as did Isaac Iselin and other philanthropists of that time, in the same spirit) to give an opportunity to the poor to earn their bread by labor, and to prevent the poverty of indolence, of beggary, and of a burdensome life. Above all he strove to open before them and their children the path of a rational Christian training, and to afford them the consolation of religion as the richest wealth in the midst of poverty, in order that they, in looking at God, might learn to bear their cross patiently. And he believed that this purpose could be most surely reached by public institutions for the poor and by houses of labor; therefore he effected the erection of one of these, though with much self-sacrifice.2 It might be expected of such a man, that with him Chris tianity would not be a mere formal system, but a matter of the heart and of the life. And he showed this in his philan thropic and genial conduct toward others, and in his acquies cence in the divine will. He met with a severe trial in 1775, when his only son, the support of his old age, who had 1 Nachgela&Sene Schriften, Vol. II. p. 299. 2 Comp. his Essay: Die WohUiatigkeit bffeniKcher Armenanstallen, p. 45 ff. BIBLICAL CHARACTER OF JERUSALEM'S FAITH. 353 been engaged in the study of law, committed suicide in a fit of dejection. The death of young Jerusalem, as is well known, was the circumstance which gave to Goethe the material for his Sorrows of Werther.1 Soon afterward the afflicted man also lost his wife. His biographer, Eschenburg, tells us that both losses took a deep hold upon his soul, and gave his friends great anxiety for his life; but he soon regained his courage, and reUgion rewarded her noble professor by its most glorious and powerful consolations. . . . Gradually his grief subsided into permanent calm; even the silent but severe memory of his sufferings lost by degrees its painful character, and not a murmur or complaint ever escaped his Ups."2 When his own end approached, he simply made the excla mation: "If I should now go to my higher home, oh God, how happy shall I be!" Jerusalem's faith was simply Biblical, removed from all that the later speculative dogmatics had introduced into Christian doctrine or elaborated into a system. Of aU the Biblical doctrines, those which influenced him most were God's all-wise guidance of men, morality, and, above aU, the duty of loving our fellow-men. Jerusalem believed steadfastly in the higher divine majesty of the Savior, yet without holding that the dogmatic definition of his person and the trinity of the divine nature are essential to religion. With all evan gelical Christians, he regarded the death of Jesus as the greatest blessing ever conferred upon humanity, and the only ground for our happiness; yet he did not here share those common ideas which he believed were offensive by their harshness. This was what he was most afraid of. "How sad it is," said he, "that the assertion of theological defini tions and hypotheses still so restrains good men from pro fessing Jesus, makes them enemies of the gospel, and thereby prevents their accepting and promulgating it ; for tf real justice were done to them, they would acknowledge a God, love 1 Compare on this point the Correspondence published by A. Kestner: Goethe und Werther. p. 86 ff. Stuttgart, 1854. * Deutsche Monatschrift, 1791, p. 132. Comp. further on him: Baur, Lebensgemdlde denhourdiger Personen, Vol. V. p. 401. 354 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. virtue, and (if some of these definitions were not insisted on) willingly accept Christ as the great Divine Ambassador and Teacher of the world." " Must rehgion, then," he continues, " whose divine simplic ity adapts it to the guidance and consolation of all men, even for the simple-hearted and the ignorant, be clothed in such artificial and strange terms as prevent us from obtaining any definite conception of it, and which are even foreign to the Bible?" He therefore carefully avoided in his sermons and writings all expressions which he believed could awaken ideas at once false, coarse, and unworthy of God ; and when in the pulpit, he made use of terms that were simple, natural, and free from all learned array, and of an elevated language far removed from all bombast. And, in fact, Jerusalem's sermons, though now nearly a century old, are distinguished by a pure simplicity of style, a wholesome clearness of thought, and a deeply moral and religious seriousness, which will always secure them a worthy place among the best religious books of their class. Though many deeper religious references may be wanting in them, their positively Christian character must be conceded. It must not be forgotten that, next to Mosheim, Jerusalem was the first to introduce a more simple pulpit- eloquence in opposition to the false taste of the day, but yet in harmony with the progress of the German language; still, it does not contain the fresh strength and originality of Luther, and more nearly approaches the tone of an essay, but has ever been beneficial in comparison with the bombastic, distasteful, and drawling pulpit-tone that characterized the most of the preachers of the seventeenth century, and in part also those of the eighteenth. Jerusalem, in one place, very justly com plains of the want of taste in those preachers who spoke in society like other reasonable men, but just as soon as they mounted the pulpit fell into the tone of "night-watchmen or market-screamers," in order thereby, as they believed, to make their subject more impressive.1 The return from this unnaturalness to natural simplicity was of great value at that time; it showed itself in education and literature, and so too 1 Nachgelassene Schriften, Vol. II. p. 197. JERUSALEMS DEFENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 355 it took its place in the pulpit. It could very easily happen that this simplicity might degenerate into great barrenness, and that what was magnificent, powerful, and solemn in an ecclesiastical sermon might recede behind the quiet and easily- understood language of daily intercourse; indeed, that this tone of conversation might be perverted finally into that home-made flatness of every-day talk of which we have al ready spoken. But this was not the case with Jerusalem and the best orators of that time. They knew how to com bine dignity with simplicity of language, and it is just this com bination that stiU gives to those sermons (notwithstanding , partial defects) . a classical value in contrast with that fan tastical insipidity into which so many of our later orators have fallen through the sheer striving after originality. It is with the sermons of Jerusalem and similar men as it is with Gellert's hymns. They are worthy representations of their time, but will still be of advantage to pure and impartial minds. The work in which Jerusalem sought to defend the Chris tian religion against the attacks of freethinkers, particularly against Bolingbroke and Voltaire, is his Observations on the Chief Truths of Religion, a book which is now inferior to a large number of later religious publications, but at that time, with Gellert's Hymns, constituted one of the chief requisites of the Christian family-library. It was translated into most of the modern languages, and very soon passed through several editions. Here, too, we see how a period of war can often awaken spiritual life. What Arndt and the hymn- writers of his period were in the Thirty Years' War, Gellert and Jerusalem were, in their own way, in the Seven Years' War. The Crown-Prince of Brunswick, who was taught and confirmed by Jerusalem, and would willingly have enjoyed further instruction at his hands, commissioned him to write this work in the midst of the storm of war. Jerusalem obeyed, and wished at the same time, as he says in the Preface, to be useful to that class of readers whose condition and business did not permit them to engage in more careful and learned inquiries into religious truths, but to whom it was the more important, with their many relations to the 356 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. world, and that audacity to write against religion which was overleaping all the bounds of reason and morality, to become acquainted with the fundamental rules of faith in their real strength, and especially in their eternal exceUence. Jerusalem endeavored to meet this wide-spread want. The time was past in which thinking and cultivated Christians among the laity could be content with what they had learned by catechetical instruction. All the subjects of doubt could not be exhausted in sermons, and the most of the remaining apologetic writings, as those of Lilienthal, had been taught in too theological a style.1 There had to be gradually formed a religiously instructive literature, which, as Jerusalem him self expresses it, should preserve the medium "between metaphysical severity and mere declamation." And Jerusalem's Observations laid the basis in a certain measure for this literature, which has now increased among us to a multitude of books and periodicals under every possible title. Yet even before him, the Chief Court-Preacher in Berlin, Augustus William Frederick Sack, made himself of service by his Faith of Christians Defended. We can judge of the im pression made by Sack's work on the most cultivated people of the day from a letter written the author by Wieland, from Zurich, in 1754.2 Wieland was then still in his religious period. He had sent to Sack his poem on Abraham Tempted, which was received very cordially, and now he writes to him again, that the wish to see him, the amiable author of the Faith of Christians Defended, would draw him more than any thing else to BerUn. "If the candid wishes of many thou sands of souls," continues Wieland, "to which mine may be added, shall be heard, and are in accordance with the grand purposes of our Savior, then will you, dear sir, long make reUgion, the only fountain of happiness for immortal souls, more manifest and dearer to men by your consoling teachings and by your pure example. I shall never think of you without 1 Lilienthal (f 1782, when Professor of Theology and Pastor at Ko nigsberg), Die gute Sache der Offenbarung. Konigsberg, 1760 — 80. * Sack's Leben, published by his Son, Vol. L p. 197. SACK'S LD7E AND SERMONS. 357 inward encouragement, and secret prayers for your life, your prosperity, and for blessing upon your hallowed labors." The Ufe of the elder Sack has been written for us by his son and successor in office, the son-in-law of Spalding; and, by aid of the appended Correspondence, it can assist us in making us acquainted with that period. Sack, who had en tered upon his office under the government of Frederick Wil liam I., witnessed the revolution in religious ideas, and did not remain undisturbed by it. But he did not permit himself to be carried off by the stream, but sought, as his son says of him, to "keep in the temperate zone," for he was convin ced that divine revelation is not given to us to mislead our understanding and torment us, but to illuminate and calm us." Teller, who was already drawn more to the extreme of neology, therefore said of him, " that he stopped too early." Sack's sermons, hke those of Jerusalem, were much read for a long time. They were long recommended as model-ser mons, and even yet, after the lapse of a century, an individ ual who does not desire simply what is latest, will find good nutriment in them. To get an idea of his reUgious sentiment as well as of his elevated style, compare two elaborate ser mons : one against the Temptation of Unbelievers, and the other against the Unchristian Sectarian Spirit. We read at the conclusion of the latter: "Let us ever strive to imprint the fundamental articles of religion more deeply on our soul, and to be daily more built up in our most holy faith, and live in all things more properly before God and man. This is our great work, and the proof of the purity and sincerity of our faith. It is a matter which will so busy us that neither time nor inclination will be left for strUe and controversy. Therefore, let every one take care to be sincere before God and engaged in good works. But for the rest, let us judge no other servant, but live in peace and unity with every man, and not transgress the commandment of humiUty and love for the sake of any opinion; then will the God of peace and love be with us in time and eternity." A pleasant, mild, and estimable figure meets us in the pious John Joachim Spalding. He has described his life for us Vol. I.— 24 358 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. himself, and whoever will read his Autobiography will think twice before passing . sentence on. the man of whom, it bears witness. Spalding's outward life, like that of Jerusalem, had but little incident. The, son of a minister, he was born in 1714, at Triebsees, in Swedish Pomerania. Having studied in Rostock and Greifswald, and having served- as private tutor in different places, and then, as preacher in the. Pom eranian towns of Lassahn and Barth, his . literary fame, which had been established by his widely-circulated Destiny of Man (1.748), gave him, a call to Berlin. There he; occupied the position, of Chief Counselor of the Consistory, and after 1764 was Provost in the Nicolai Church. After , voluntarily re linquishing his office in 1788, he died at Berlin, in 1804, at the very advanced age of ninety years. Reproach has been cast upon the piety, of these men on the score of their great age. "Zeal for the church," it is. al leged, "does not seem to haye eaten, them up, for thjey. have grown old amid its ruins."1 Cold and heartless derision! To me, indeed; these, patriarchal forms are yenerable in con trast with an age which, grows old too soon, and which often permits itself, to, be consumed in the heat of its own wild ambition, while the peaceful flame of a calm and steadfast enthusiasm is quenched too early, because the lamp is. des-, titute of oil. It: is true that Spalding's inner lifo was not abundant, in vehement storms, or in ebb and flow; it is in contrast with the life, of Augustine, Tauler and Luther, a? a Pomeranian lake is with the heaving billows of, the sea. But. yet a quiet lake, with its flat banks, is- more pleasing to us than the excited puddle which imagines itself a raging and^ foaming ocean. Moral and, pious sobriety of thought is ; dearer to us than the affected frenzy of a, so-called ; " world-throe,"' whose, boasted originahtyis only the production; of - wild ex citement, and now, bears scorn and, desperation, upon its brow, and now swings the torch of fanaticism.: But even Spalding's life, did not close without, conflict, and he too had to pass through the school, of doubt.; Thus we 1 What can these people say to the great age of Wesley?-- And what to that, of the Apostle John?, JOHN JOACHIM SPALDING. 359 find in bis personal confessions much that is interesting con cerning the formation and the change of his religious views. His unqualified faith in the doetrines of the church was at first shaken by the expression of a prominent theologian of his day. When young Spalding expressed some slight doubts on a doctrine which he- did not find established in the Script ures, his difficulty was met by this' reply: "This is really a bad case; but it must now be seen how we can save our selves." Spalding confessed that subsequently it seemed to him, concerning most of the defences of old orthodoxy; as if these gentlemen would only save themselves. Spalding had but a slight classical education ; he had'taught' himself rather by recent, and especially English literature (some of which he translated), and by the journals. Therefore his writings bear less the stamp of thorough theological learning and of strict science than of a sound and natural understanding; But they are chiefly distinguished by great clearness and purity of soul, and, indeed, by that inner harmony of soul which is ever the highest consecration of the minister and the theo logian. Spalding possessed deep religious feeling*, but to make re Ugion dependent on the feelings seemed to him very hazardous, since they are rooted on sensuous soil. He had in mind the vagaries of the HaUe Pietists, who had; dealt sometimes dangerously with the feelings and inward' experiences in gen^ eral; and even with patient* struggles and' similar conditions of J soul. Therefore he wrote, in 1761, his' Thoughts on the Value of the Feelings in j Christianity, a1 work which passed through many editions, and' aided to promote that dry relig ious thinking peculiar to the later decades of the century. "It aided," Tholuck says, "in giving to religion' a colder but also a purer character."1 It was colder so far as it aimed at clear knowledge in religion, and at propriety in conduct rather than in the feelings; but it was a purer because it * Vermischte Schriften, VoL, II. p. 92., Spalding, with most of his contemporaries, ignored the deeper significance of feeling so far as it is the foundation of religious self-consciousness and the original seat of religion. And how many do the same thing at the present day! 360 1 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ( suppressed all improper indulgence of the feelings, or at least occasioned a proper estimate of the obscure feelings, and sub jected the fanatical imagination to the discipline of reason. With the same cold and unimaginative conception of religion (we cannot call it altogether spiritless) are connected Spalding's views on the Utility of the Ministerial Office, a work which he published eleven years later, in 1772. Spalding here pro ceeded from the correct Protestant principle already estab lished by Luther and Spener, — that ministers should not con stitute a special clerical order, but a class of teachers in the church. But their reduction to mere utility in the state had, it must be confessed, a very serious character, for it seemed almost to. presuppose the confession that the clergy had be come almost, useless, and that it was necessary to find work for them somewhere. Spalding's purpose was good. He would not make the preacher of Christianity in any way the mere popular teacher in the sense of Sebaldus Nothanker, spoken of before. But when we place his ideal of a minister beside that of the apostles and prophets, or even that of the Reformers, it appears defective and meager enough, — as the thin and scant fluting of a little black mantle beside the rich folds of the old Roman toga or of the high- priest's robe. No one was vexed at this mere utility to which it was designed to condemn the clerical office more than the fervid and imaginative Herder, who, in his Provincial Leaves, expressed himself not so much against the estimable Spalding as that tendency of the times which his work promoted. Herder, who regarded the ministry as messengers in Christ's stead, and analogous to the office of patriarch, prophet and apostle, regarded it beneath their dignity to reduce them to mere servants of the state, or " depositories of public moral ity," as Spalding himself called them, though without design ing anything severe. "Why," asks Herder, "are they not finaUy made secret financiers and policemen, and hewers of wood and drawers of water?" Spalding must have been deeply pained at Herder's severe tone, and all the more so because he was conscious of his pure view, and placed a high value on the excellent young man who had risen against him. Spalding's accommodation to his times. 361 Spalding, with his associates Teller and Diterich, had also taken part in the adulteration of the hymn-books. This pro cedure, too, was severely censured by Herder. All people of the present day who possess an elevated spirit of relig ious culture will unconditionally choose Herder's side of the question, but they will not therefore condemn the man whom even Herder prized highly, and with whom he possessed in common a nobility of sentiment, clear thought, and harmony of soul. With Spalding, negative prosaicism was not in the least connected with irreligious sentiment. On the contrary, he seriously believed (and many pious and excellent men believed with him) that, through such a letting-down of re Ugious feelings to the prevailing tone of the day, which was regarded the most natural in the world, a better reception could be found for religious truth, and, indeed, that the real stamp of truth could then be first impressed upon them. From the same effort after truth and naturalness, Spalding, as he himself teUs us, gradually changed his style of preaching. Believing that the old oriental expressions in the Bible, which were exposed to much misunderstanding, and were unnatural on the Ups of western preachers, he spoke, as Jerusalem had afready commenced, more the language of daily intercourse or that of the prevailing popular philosophy. It was a lan guage more familiar to the cultivated classes than to the common people, to whom the Bible-language, if one knows how to use it properly, is plainest in all ages. The discourse dealt more fully and frequently with up rightness, virtue, happiness, the conscientious discharge of duty and the pleasure which it guarantees, than with the new birth, redemption, and sanctification; more with the "rehgion of Jesus" than the person of Christ; and more with the effects of virtuous sentiment than the fruits of the Holy Spirit. It was not felt that, with this kind of expression- the truth too was given up, and with the form also its con tents. But when we remember bow Christian and Biblical language had lost, with many of the day, its original signifi cation, and was remote to them, we can well understand how it was found necessary to preserve the contents from utter 362 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ruin by pouring the good wine into other, if not proper vessels, until the old ones had been purified from the dregs which had settled in them in the course of time. Or, to choose a better iUustration, people now fled from the dilap idated temple, when the architects were unable to suggest any help, into a simple private cottage, and accustomed them selves to its modest and moral Christianity until they could again enter the portals of a broader culture, and the vaulted halls of the old, but yet renewed, church. And, indeed, we must not confound the good and honest people who fled into this cottage with those who stood in the street, shouting in exultation over the speedy fall of the temple. Those men who believed that Christianity could be rescued in that ex cited time by divesting it as much as possible of everything that could give it a foreign and obsolete appearance, and sought to adapt it to the necessities of the day, yet deserve our thanks and respect, for they strove at nothing less than to take every argument from the enemies of Christianity, the enemies of all religion and value, and the corrupters of the human race. In his Confidential Letters on Religion, Spalding sought, in his advanced age, to oppose naturalism, freethinking, and rehgious scoffing, which, he laments, were ever raising their head more proudly. His last work, Religion the. Concern of Man, was directed to the same object. As I have already intimated, Spalding's great age presents us the picture of a patriarchal life happy in God, and such an one as can only appear in response to a serious effort for it.1 Thus Spalding's skeptical tendency stood in the most intimate connection with his sincere piety; indeed, as his son remarks, it was. a char acteristic of it. For this sincere piety, this undisturbed purity of soul, did not permit him to entertain any religious view which he did not firmly believe would contribute essentially to his moral elevation and improvement. And this can be easily understood. Just those people who do not generally 1 Comp. the passages in his Lebensgeschichte, pp. 144, 166, etc. His beneficial influence on earnest young men may be seen in the case of Lavater (see Lecture XXII.) and Blessig (see his Leben, by Fritz, p. 46). Spalding's deep piety. 363 trouble themselves about religion or religious life, take a dogma more or less into the bargain, — and they think they pay enough for it. But Spalding, who would make religion his possession, desired nothing that was borrowed, nothing but what was proved and experienced. And herein he was right. "To the mind of Spalding," says his son, "there was nothing at all pleasant in those figures which were full of the glowing colors of the East, and those imaginative ideas of religion- which are latterly greatly preferred, as inspirations of a deep spirit, to that flat intelhgibleness of a skepticism distinguished for its excessive meanness."1 Spalding distinguished betv/een true feeling, which could coexist with a frugal imagination, and a mere enthusiasm, excited, created, and made artificial by the imagination. He withdrew from such "heartless poets of religion," and preferred to attach himself to those plain men who said no more than they felt.2 "But," says his soli, "if he should therefore be called in wrath or derision a skeptie, the suspicious fact still remains against all who condemn and despise this kind of skepticism, that, as they themselves cannot doubt, he was a deeply pious man." And this has never been questioned by those critics who possessed a greater abundance of religious ideas than Spalding. The same Herder who opposed him mentions him elsewhere with great respect; and even Steffens, who was certainly not generally incUned to say a word in favor of shallow skepticism, confesses, in his Life, that the works of Jerusalem and Spalding had greatly influenced his religious development, though it was not exactly the right kind.3 He calls it a weU-meant and worthy effort of those men to Uft religion from its isolated condition, and unite its real nature with what could never be driven from the human spirit; so that it could be applied to a man in a deeper meaning, and he be led back by observations on death, life, and similar subjects (in pleasing language) to that faith which threatened to be lost. George Joachim Zollikoffer, a Swiss, was a similar character to Jerusalem and Spalding, and it was certainly no accident that such similar men should 1 Leben, p. 174. 2 Ibid., p. 175. 8 Was ich erlebte, Vol. I. p. 258. 364 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. arise in different places, particularly in the great cities of Germany, such as Berlin, Brunswick, and Leipzig. Zollikoffer was born in St. Gall on the 5th of August, 1730. He was the son of a lawyer, who had earlier studied theology and received his first instruction in his paternal city. But he was further educated at the Gymnasia in Frankfort- on-the-Main, and Bremen, and continued his studies in the Dutch University of Utrecht. Having returned to%his own country, he filled for some time the position of German preacher in Murten, but in 1758 received a call as preacher to the Reformed Church in Leipzig, where he remained until his death, the 20th of January, 1788. Zollikoffer's labors in Leipzig assume a complemental place beside Gellert's. His congregation consisted chiefly of educated merchants; and at a time when the derision of religion and Christianity began to be the prevailing tone, he sought to awaken in' them a taste for the higher and divine elements of Christianity by elevating its moral character. And yet he did not confine himself to general morality, but prosecuted special departments to such an extreme height that the root from which the whole moral hfe of the Christian should grow was lost to the eye. This is clear from the themes of his collected as well as special sermons: On the Dignity of Man, On Friendship, On Education, and even On Social Pleasures, etc. These were the favorite themes of his rhetoric, though always employed in a worthy and safe way. But with all this partialness and uniformity of Zollikoffer's sermons, we must yet entertain a high respect for the character of the man, which is expressed not only in his sermons but also in his life, which corresponded perfectly to his sermons. Thus many recognized in his ser mon on the Man who was not Wanting in One Word (James iii. 2) the character of Zollikoffer himself. We who have been accustomed to piquancy and wit in recent correspondence of all kinds (even with a child), and have thereby become spoiled, do not have the same enjoy ment in the letters which Garve, Weisse and Zollikoffer ex changed. But yet we find in them, with all their indulgence in descriptions of momentary states of mind, and sometimes ZOLLHCOFFER AND HIS OPPOSITION TO FEELING. 365 of wearisome phUosophy, an honest sentiment and a con scientious moral effort, — to which we must not fail to do justice. Garve, the intimate friend of Zollikoffer, has described his character in a letter to Weisse, in which he says, among other things: "His exterior was sometimes colder than I de sired, but from time to time there beamed out glances of a deep internal feeling, which imparted to me the most perfect confidence in his friendship. In him there was a strong fire smouldering under the ashes. . . . This has at last con sumed his body. He lamented to me a year ago that the excitement of his own thoughts, especially in the pulpit, was so great that he could not conquer it, and that the struggle had greatly weakened him. Who would have expected this in that quiet and apparently cold man? But as long as his body was strong he suppressed or concealed his excitability, partly from principle, and partly, perhaps, from certain other states of mind, or from his early training and habits." Here, too, as with Spalding, we find that opposition to feeling and steadfast mastery of it which amounted reaUy to a suppression of it. I regard this a defective and improper effort. Why should not feehng, especially religious feeling, enjoy its rights? Why should it not express itself in the proper place? It is false modesty, and almost hypocrisy, though in a reverse sense. But I greatly prefer the hypocrisy which conceals the feeUngs to that which makes artificial ones, or exaggerates those which really exist into unnaturalness, and therefore leads to untruth and to real hypocrisy. Just this hypocrisy, as it frequently occurred in that day, stood as a horrible ghost behind those men, and continually restrained them from the shghtest indulgence in the vice. Therefore they never spoke of spirit, though they had it; they did not speak much of Christianity in the narrower sense; but they were Christians in the sense in which they wished to be and could be, — true Nathanaels, Israelites in whom was no guile. We have thus far striven to do full justice to the good design of the men who stood at the height of theological illuminism ; and we have seen how the essence of Christianity, though there were somewhat defective views of it withal, was 366 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. not wholly without power in certain plain and pious hearts But yet we must candidly confess that the result of the labors of these men was not great and powerful. However worthy they were personally, their piety was too personal and sub jective to make a thorough impression upon Christendom. A Christianity for mere thinkers, for cultivated people, and for the world which reads, writes, reasons, and philosophizes, was not the glad tidings designed for all people. The beau tiful, blue, philosophic heavens which, as Herder expresses it, looked down through the tessellated church-^roof, was only a cold north-heaven of abstraction, and the blessings that should have fallen upon the floor were scanty and poor com pared with those labors which had been performed by Luther, and after him by Arndt, Scriver, Spener, and the hymnists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. And therefore we must unite with Steffens when he says : " The well-meaning writers of this character did not consider that all religion is original and immediate, and that if the innermost germ of faith has vanished, it can no more be restored than departed life by chemical combinations."1 Indeed, we must concede with him that these works certainly prepared the way for that tendency which afterwards arose, with great pretensions, under the name of Rationalism. This is shown in a man who was intimately connected with Spalding, and whose per sonal character was worthy of respect, though he certainly carried his skepticism so far that he made little difference between real Christianity and that which is common to all religions, even to Judaism and Mohammedanism. We mean Wilham Abraham Teller, who was born in Leipzig, in 1734. He was called in 1767 from Helmstadt, where he was preacher and professor of theology, to Berlin as Provost of Cologne-on-the-Spree. But as his sermons seemed to find but little favor, he soon withdrew from the "pulpit and devoted himself to authorship. As already remarked, Teller charged the elder Sack with being a semi-skeptic. But he would not go merely haU way, and therefore went a good deal further than Sack, Spalding, 1 Was ich erlebte, Vol. I. p. 258. REACTION AGAINST SKEPTICISM INAUGURATED. 367 and Jerusalem. Like them, he purposed to make plain the Biblical style, which was misunderstood by sOmany, by trans lating it into western ideas; and he did this in his Dictionary of the New Testament, which has some merit, although it often flattens and obstructs the sense. In his Religion of the Perfect he advanced principles bordering on Deism, and is said to have received into Christian ecclesiastical communion a number of Jewish heads of families, on a mere deistic pro fession of faith. While this course was severely censured by some, its liberality was highly praised by others, so that, as we are informed, the minister who preached at his grave expressed the hope that, if only such men as Jesus, Luther and Teller should arise, the world would get along quite well.1 Thus, in our account of apologetics, we have described a complete circle, reaching with Teller the utmost verge of illuminism, where we found Bahrdt, who had the assurance to place himself on a level with Christ. But there was this difference: Teller's character was not so frivolous as Bahrdt's, and therefore the juxtaposition of Teller with Christ was only a work of -his bhnd admirer. Every extreme must die, and the final hour of Berlin skep ticism now struck. It was the day of Frederick the Great's death. With the change in the government a reaction occur red, in which Teller himseU, and with him the worthy Spal ding, were involved; but it was one which every one in the interest of true Christianity would rather have occurred in another way and by some other organs. We speak of the well-known Religious Edict issued under the government of Frederick William H. in July, 1788, with the cooperation of Minister John Christian von Wollner. "Since I have long observed," so reads the Edict, "before ascending the throne, how necessary it is,— -after the example of my most excellent ancestors, but especially of my grand father, who now rests in God,— that in Prussia the Christian rehgion of the Protestant Church should be restored to its original authority and purity, and also that I should oppose as much as possible unbelief superstition, and the falsification 1 Tholuck, Vermisehte Schriften, Vol. II. p. 127. 368 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. of the fundamental truths of Christian faith, and the unre strained immorality proceeding therefrom, I would therefore give to my true subjects, as their rightful ruler, a clear proof that, in this important matter, they may regard me as the defender of perfect freedom of conscience, and of undisturbed rest and security in all the accredited confessions and faith of their fathers, and their protector against all disturbers of their worship and of their ecclesiastical regulations. . . . And I have no further hesitation in recalling seriously my important duty as king, and in making publicly known, in the present Edict, my unchanged opinion on this subject." In Section I. of the Edict, the former guarantees are granted to the three principal confessions, — the Reformed, Lutheran, and Catholic; and in Section II. it is expressly declared, " that tolerance shall be rigidly maintained, and not the least compulsion of conscience shall be applied to any one" (not even to the sects). In the following Sections, pros- elytism is forbidden, and mutual harmony of the confessions recommended. But, on the other hand, Section VI. declares positively that " no further deviation shall occur in the essential part of the old doctrines of each confession ; " for, Section VII. continues, "the king has observed with regret that many clergymen of the Protestant church allow themselves unrea sonable liberty in the interpretation of their confessions, deny various essential parts and fundamental truths of the Protest ant church and of the Christian religion in general, and adopt a certain fashionable tone which is altogether opposed to the spirit of Christianity, and would make the pillars of Christian faith tremble to their base. People do not hesitate to re hash the miserable and long-since refuted errors of Socinians, Deists, naturalists, and other classes, and to disseminate them among the people boldly and shamelessly under the wretchedly abused name of illuminism, in order to diminish respect for the Bible as God's revealed word, and to misinterpret, per vert, or even abolish this divine record for the welfare of humanity, and to make the people despise, or regard as superfluous, faith in the mysteries of revealed religion in general, and especially in the mystery of the mediatorial work THE RELIGIOUS EDICT OF 1788. 369 and atonement of the Redeemer, — and thus to lead them astray, and make them cast odium on Christianity. I desire to see this mischief checked in my dominions, . . . that the poor masses be not subjected to the delusions of fashionable doc trines, and the millions of my good subjects escape being robbed of the repose of their life, consolation in death, and eternal felicity."1 Accordingly, it was ordered "that henceforth no preacher or school-teacher, on penalty of certain dismission, and, after proof, of still more severe punishment, should be guilty of the errors indicated so far as to undertake to disseminate such opinions either publicly or privately in the conduct of his office." How ever, the Edict would not interfere with the private con victions of individuals; public teaching alone should be con trolled by it. Every one who might dedicate himself to the clerical calling had to know how far he was able to subscribe to the doctrines of the church. The Edict was also as mod erate as possible to all who were already in the discharge of their office. They were not cautioned to suddenly change their opinion, but only not to take ground against the con fessions of faith. The most rigid watchfulness in this matter was recommended to the heads of the two Protestant con fessions. For the conduct and management of the Edict a special committee of examination was instituted, in 1791, consisting of Pastor Hermes, who was called from Breslau to Berlin, the Consistorial Councilors Woltersdorf and Silber- schlag, and the Privy Councilor Hilmer. The permanent employment of this committee was royally ordered to consist herein: "To obtain from time to time, as far as possible, a complete knowledge of the good and bad preachers and school-teachers in the whole country."2 To this committee 1 Compare the Preuss. Beligionsedict, eine Geschichte aus dem 18. Jahr hundert, erzdhltfur das 19. Leipzig, 1842. 2 Special lists had to be prepared. In the first list were recorded "all good preachers and school-teachers, according to their piety, adap tation, services, and especially according to their orthodoxy and attach ment to the pure old Christian doctrines, for the purpose of choosing from them individuals for the most important positions in churches and L, 370 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the preliminary- examination of the candidates was also com mitted, and two of its members had to be present at the public examination in order "to give to it more weight and regularity." They were recommended, however, " to be patient with candidates inclined to neology, and to set days; for them to appear, when; they might present themselves for the second, or even the third or fourth time; and also to counsel them with paternal goodness as to their true course of study and their proper preparation for future duties." If we consider this Edict impartially,, we cannot be blind to its. good purpose of checking the prevailing disorders which had crept into the church under the name of illuminism, and of leading public ecclesiastical instruction back to a safe foundation. But the method was too rash and premature. It was not properly considered that faith dare, not be treated thus,, that it cannot be cut and altered as a military uniform from day to day, and that just- those who: are most ready for such precipitate changes, give the least,, guarantees^. The alternative was presented, either- to dismiss from labor a number- of ingenuous men, — among whom the aged Spalding was most prominent, -who really did permanently retire,: — or, what was yet worse^ to increase the number of hypo crites.1 And just this effect was charged by many, people of the time upon the Religious Edict, Had it been confined to lopping off the mischievous growth of that, false skepticism, schools."' In the second list: came especially- "all theologians and the whole crew- of so-called illuminists. among preachers and, school-teach ers; likewise all those whose life is disreputable, or not, of, the proper kind in any respect,, in order that a watchful eye may be, kept upon the former, lest their neological errors be further propagated; and that the latter, according to the corruption of- their morals, may be treated with the gradibus admonitionis prescribed in the consistorial regulations, and, in case of no improvement, to . be handed over, to .the temporal authorities for well-deserved punishment and dismission,!' * Troublesome cases occurred,, , The .preachers Reinheck.andTroschel, of_St. Peter's Churchy received sharp ; admonitions ; likewise Nosselt and Niemeyer in HaUe, — an affair, which cansed a great sensation in the, University. The sale, of the Universal, German Library was. forbidden throughout Brus,sia under a penalty of , fifty, ducats. EFFECTS OF THE RELIGIOUS EDICT. 371 and also to taking care to have an appropriate theological education for the coming generation, it would have been a very great advantage. Yet the Edict appeared, on the whole, much more vigorous than its administration. The displacement of a neological preacher near Berlin, and of Pastor Schulz in Gielsdorf (1792), made a great stir. Because this Schulz opposed the clerical custom by wearing a cue like a layman, he was called the "cue-preacher;" he had, it is true, declared some objection able doctrines, — for instance, that he did not believe the Mosaic writings. He was therefore called to account; but the Consistory, in which Teller had the most important voice* agreed upon the morally good conduct of the preacher and the good praise pronounced upon him by his congregation and finally declared for his retention in office. It was said that he could be tolerated as a Christian preacher, though not as a Lutheran. Yet Schulz was after all displaced; and suspension was pronounced on Provost Teller, but not carried into execution. The former received an appointment in the royal porcelain manufactory in Berlin. Nothing further of im portance was effected by the Religious Edict. It called out a number of publications, and it is remarkable that Semler, from his standpoint of the difference between public and private reUgion, approved of the official measure, while Bahrdt abused it in the most bitter terms.1 The Edict was revoked by Frederick WiUiam HI., when a period of new religious ideas was introduced into Berlin and Prussia, and indeed into all Germany, — to treat of which does not lie within our present scope. We must regard the time, and, returning to more than haU a century previous, again take up the thread which we have long left untouched. We broke off in the history of Pietism, with which we be gan the history of religious development, to become acquainted first with the whole development of unbelief in part, and in part of the various tendencies of the times in literature, theology, education, and ecclesiastical life. We have done 1 Comp. Vols. CXIV. and CXV. of the Allgemeine deutsche Biblioihek. Henke issued a special edition. Kiel, 1793. 372 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. this in a series of lectures. We are now at a point where we can appreciate the importance of the associations and the men, who, partly proceeding from Pietism and partly uniting themselves to it and living in close conjunction with it, exhibited a strong and decidedly evangelical sentiment, which was 'expressed in vivid characters and conducted by a noble enthusiasm, in opposition to a world from which they received derision and from which they were even pitied and sym pathized with as remaining behind their age, but who, in the midst of their depreciation and bitter persecution, preserved a vigorous germ of lUe, — from which a new and powerful Christian consciousness was destined to spring after the storm had subsided. Bengel and the South-German original minds allied to him; Zinzendorf and the Moravian Brethren founded by him ; Wesley and the Methodists ; Swedenborg and the Church of the New Jerusalem; Jung-Stilling and Lavater, — these are the men whom we now include in one large group, and whom we shall treat of more elaborately in the following lectures. LECTURE XVLL POSITIVE TENDENCIES. — RENEWAL OF PIETISM. — JOHN AL BERT BENGEL. — CHRISTOPHER FREDERICK OETINGER. — PHILIP M. HAHN. — HILLER, THE LYRIST. — SAMUEL URLS- PERGER AND HIS SON. — THE GERMAN CHRISTIAN ASSOCIA TION. — ITS SEAT IN BASLE. In the last lecture we found ourselves removed from the temperate zone of North-German illuminism, in which Jeru salem, Sack, and Spalding moved, to the polar latitude of the frozen neology that was represented by Teller, and still more by those ministers against whom the Rehgious Edict of 1788 was directed. We now enter the southern latitude, as we consider those tendencies which developed greater spiritual strength and embraced in their confession a far deeper view of Christianity than the former did. It is difficult, however,. to< bring under one name all the tendencies named at the close of the last lecture, for while they constitute in the main a unity, in opposition to the defunct old orthodoxy and the rationalistic illuminism of the century, there is yet a difference between them. We shall find that Bengel and Zinzendorf, and Zinzendorf and Wesley, thought differently from each other on essential doctrines and principles of Christiamty, whUe Swedenborg, Stilling, and Lavater pursued each his own way. AU these men were by no means orthodox, if we under stand by orthodoxy absolute accord with ecclesiastical formu laries, for they took ground against some of them, and were declared by the adherents of the old orthodoxy as heretical as the Rationalists themselves. And yet they were in a Vol. I.— 25 374 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH,. certain sense supporters of orthodoxy in opposition to inno vation, so far as they feelingly retained the positive character of Christianity, and sought to introduce it into practical hfe. In this respect they had much in common with Pietism, on whose basis they stood. But the persons who defended this tendency cannot be called Pietists without qualification, for they did not perfectly agree with the Halle Pietists, as is seen in Zinzendorf s verse: "Of all the people on the earth, One class offends me sore, — Who call themselves the Pietists, And will include no more." Wesley and the Methodists of England could sooner be ranked with the German Pietists, although they too had their pe culiarities. On the other hand, no one would declare the fanatical Swedenborg, the ghost-seeing Stilling, and the ex citable and fiery Lavater to be Pietists, unless he would characterize by this name everj'thing which transcends the measure of ordinary piety. There is certainly no narrow- hearted Pietism in Lavater, who was a medium between the strictly Christian and skeptical tendencies, while he was in friendly relations with both the Pietists and men of opposite thinking, — particularly Spalding and Zollikoffer, Indeed, were not he and Stilling friends of Goethe, who again occupied a peculiar middle position between Basedow and Lavater?1 If, finally, we would call all the defenders of that tendency which soars above our soul Mystics, we would leave only an indefinite view, and one not equally applicable to all these^ men. The most of them were affected by Mysticism, but with some, as Zinzendorf and Wesley for example, the practical element prevailed; with others, as Swedenborg, theosophy predominated; and with others, as Bengel, there was a com bination of the two. Yet we will not place them all in the same category. Indeed, I believe that historical interest will be increased if we observe that, with unity of sentiment in the main, there is the greatest diversity of individual views and tendencies. Should we, however, take up well-known » "Prophets right, prophets left, the world-child in the middle." JOHN ALBERT BENGEL. 375 i names and phenomena, we might say that Bengel embodies better than all others (though peculiarly) what we have formerly learned as Pietism in its good and noble sense. He is to a certain degree the Spener of Southern Germany; and what the latter was at the end of the seventeenth cent ury, Bengel was at the beginning and down to the middle of the eighteenth. He is the patriarch of Swabian Pietism, and we will begin with him and his disciples our enumeration of the men whom we now have in mind. Old Wurtemberg affords us now, in the middle of the move ment of the eighteenth century, a halting-place for observing the old, substantial ecclesiastical life. Even before the Refor mation, pecidiar institutions had taken shape in the churches and schools there, and with the firm principles there was associated a poetical and imaginative view of things which proceeded from the inner life of the people, and whenever it invaded the schools of learning, it was developed into a peculiar artificial poetry; or where this was wanting, it as sumed the form of fanaticism. Or how could it occur that in the midst of this strictly ecclesiastical state of the country,' the most opposite rehgious tendencies could appear; so that the same land from which Wieland, Schubart, and Schiller, and critical theologians like Eichhorn, Paulus, and more re cently, Strauss and the whole of the Tubingen School, arose, has again become, even down in the nineteenth century, the country of the most diverse Pietism and Mysticism? Likewise Wurtemberg is the only one of all the German Protestant nations whose national university, Tubingen, bade defiance to the influence of Rationalism down to the first decades of the present century, and preserved its old fame for uncorrupted orthodoxy. And here the influence of Bengel and his school was of no small importance. John Albert Bengel was born on the 24th of June, 1687, at Winnenden, near Stuttgart. He lost his father (a clergy man) very early, and the training of the son devolved upon a paternal friend, with whom he went to Stuttgart in 1699, where he attended a gymnasium. After the second marriage of his mother, he was enabled . by his step-father to go to 376 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Tubingen to study theology. He was soon attracted chiefly to the study of the Scriptures. He was also greatly influenced by Spener 's writings, and his intercourse with pious and learned men soon enabled him to perceive and grasp the full importance of the practical side of theological study. When twenty years of age he commenced a practical career as vicar, and the safe and vital conception with which he commenced this career, and the confidence of experienced men in the young man, gave reason to expect that he would be very successful if he. should confine himself exclusively to his course. But such was not the case. Bengel early exchanged practical labor for academic seclusion. He received a position as Theological Tutor at Tubingen, and soon afterwards was appointed Preceptor of the Cloister in the Seminary at Den- kendorf. The institution of cloister-schools and seminaries, where young people contemplating the clerical calling can be scien tifically and religiously trained at the expense of the state; is peculiar to Wurtemberg, and has continued to our day. It has the important advantage of preserving the" mind from. distraction, and, by wise discipline, of keeping it steadfastly directed to its future calling. Yet so can those defects be formed which may be best avoided by not sundering such an institution from the outside scientific world, but by imparting instruction in a vivacious manner. This was the case with Bengel, who, chiefly by an academic tour, looked at the world with open eyes, and became acquainted with men of different faith and views, and thus grew to be an acute observer of that religious struggle which agitated the German mind of that day in consequence of the rise of the Pietism of Spener and Francke. Even then Bengel strove to keep himself aloof from all partizanship, and to appropriate the good of the most diverse people. Not a dead orthodoxy, but living Chris tianity, was what he wanted. Bengel's expression is very re markable: "The conversion of a man may lead him easfly from orthodoxy to heterodoxy." What we noticed in con nection with Spalding, that rehgious doubt often takes root in a conscientious religiousness, is supported by Bengel's po- BEKGEL S STUDYx OF THE SCRIPTURES. 377 sition. "A thoroughly unconverted man," he says truly, "who lives according to the fashion of the world, and is totally in-, different to truth, does not hesitate to subscribe to all doc trines; he believes whatever he finds before him, without re gard to proofs. But in conversion, truth becomes dearer to a man ; he handles it more carefully and prudently than a diamond; he no more neglects it,— indeed, all doctrines must come by conflict, and their truth must be won afresh. This often occurs very slowly, and is easily mistaken for heter odoxy. It is very unfortunate U such subtle souls are over- ; ridden or confronted by such questions as embitter and dis parage them. Their tongues should be lifted, so that they can gain confidence and find the right road."1 Bengel himself had to struggle with theological doubt, and we find especially in him the same critical inquiry into the purity of the Bibhcal text that we have observed, in a former lecture, in Wettstein and Semler. It was just Bengel's high respect for the Holy Scriptures which made him bestow upon it this kind of labor, and would not permit him to rest until he had found, as far as possible, the correct readings of the New Testament; and the more his labors were despised, the , more zealously and conscientiously did he continue them. He and Wettstein struggled at the same time for the same prize, although from totally different standpoints. But this critical inclination was not partial in Bengel's case, but was always subservient to that pure love of Christ which animated his whole theological career. Godliness ever remained in him the very center of aU theological learning. It was his first and last object in all his studies, and he strove to imprint , the same sentiment upon all young men committed to his charge in the seminary. " Though," says Bengel, in his instal lation sermon (after Aristotle) " talents, instruction, and disci phne are conditions of the character of learning, it is godliness which develops the talents of young men most fruitfully and beautifully, for it overcomes the sluggishness of the flesh and 1 Bnrk, Leben BengeVs (Stuttgart, 1832), p. 17. From this work our section on Bengel is chiefly derived, but with the further aid of the Suddeutsche Originalien (published by Barth), and Bengel's own works. 378 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. confers upon the' mind true vivacity, strength, and clearness. It shows him what is true instruction, for it leads him to a knowledge of himself and of the Scriptures; it also pro motes discipline, for it gives to the soul that true rest and peace by which we can reflect and labor without distraction. Indeed, all things, learning not excepted, must be of service to the godly." With this spirit Bengel worked upon the future preachers of Wiirtemberg, and developed a generation destined to stand thoroughly equipped in the midst of the thickening battles of the times, and to be as strong in faith as in knowledge. He was really a father to the young men committed to him, — he even relieved the physical necessities of many, and maintained a friendly correspondence with a number after they had left his presence. Bengel united practical work with his academic labors, being also a preacher in the seminary. And here, too, he shone before the students as a model, for, like Spener, he was distinguished for his Biblical simplicity. His sermons were rather catechetical exercises than discourses proper, so that even children and the uneducated could understand him easily. He regarded oratorical display and courting of applause as sinful. He never employed forced animation, but if it came spontaneously he improved the opportunity. He sought to model his lectures after the apostles; and as he found that they were accustomed first to point out the good and afterwards to administer censure, he followed their method, though quite contrary to many of his contempo raries, who believed that they could not be too severe. He applied to them the acute observation, that, in the Scriptures, not so much is said about Satan as in the preaching of ordinary pulpit-enthusiasts, who think they can never bring the devil out enough. He also declared > (like Jerusalem) against unnatural delivery and an affected pulpit- tone. And it was simplicity, united with evangehcal strength, that made Bengel, without aiming at applause, a preacher who was very much sought and beloved. Many hearers left the church with the remark, that "they had never heard such a sermon." BENGEL S VIEWS ON THE CHURCH. 379 Bengel was called in 1741 from his preceptorship and chaplaincy in Denkendorf to be Ducal Councilor and Provost ' of the Cloister of Herbrechtingen. In 1749 he was appointed Consistorial Councilor and Prelate (at Alpirsbach), and in 1751 received the degree of Doctor of Divinity. After his appointment to the prelacy he lived in Stuttgart, where he conducted the chief movements of the church in Wurtemberg, and also continued his authorship. In both respects his po sition and labors were of the highest importance. ( With the beginning of the second half of the century, skepti cism gained increased influence in Northern Germany, and Bengel was carefully observant of the necessities of theological science. As already observed, he contributed his share toward meeting them by his critical researches on the Greek text of the New Testament. However, he did not expect the church to be saved by science as such, nor by the partial illuminism of the understanding; but he looked back to the time of the apostles, — of original Christianity, — and forward to the time of fulfillment, as he awaited it with confidence, according to Scriptural prophecy, and especially the Revelation of John. All that lay between the apostolic age and the period of ful fillment was to him only development, the passing battle, the ' transition-point to the last goal,— the means in God's hand for a holy purpose. Supported »n the two pillars of the history and apocalyptic prophecy of the Scriptures, Bengel looked down from his safe watch-tower upon the storms of the times ; and in the midst of them he spoke powerful words, which, al though they had a mysterious and fanatical sound, did not die away in the wind without a trace, but left behind a , deep impression, and long afterward were fully appreciated and justified. Let us hear Bengel himself: "If one would form an idea of the church, he must not, as is commonly done, make the early Christian church his model. When the apostles speak of the church, they do not so much speak of it as the church of their day,— though glorious in some respects, — as of the church which God designs to come hereafter (Ephesians iv. , 11-, 13). Christianity has never had the complete form prom- 380 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ised it by the prophecies of the Old Testament. The apostolic light was soon quenched. But few of the writings composed immediately after the apostles contained the true doctrine of Christ, or exhibited love and modesty. They were serious, rigid, and severe; and the depth of the divine words and mysteries, and the , sweet, mild, and amiable method of the apostles, were no more present, and, consequently, the deviation became greater and more striking. Something far better than this must therefore come to pass, and, indeed, God has designed something great for the last times. In fact, truth is ever winning a stronger footing on the earth, however little some may believe it. Many truths for which the apostles and first Christians were slain have already been professed by the world, and are now brought into such a clear light that it can no more turn against them; the world will be evermore pervaded by them, though, like persons besieged in a fortress, they will constantly seek new lurking-places, and defend them-, selves as well as they can. An important epoch has com menced since Arndt's time; he prepared the way for Spener, Who brought the truth to the heart by private instruction. This is a special gift of our day, which must not be smothered. It is altogether according to God's method of dealing, who, when he would draw all men to him, first took one people, the Jews, and gave them laws and many blessings above other nations, in order to elevate them, and lead them to himself. Now, whoever will aim at the conversion of a village must do like him, — by striving at the beginning to bring even some into fellowship. Others are not thereby excluded, but are led to contemplate and examine the phenomenon, and are also invited. At first, the orthodox bitterly opposed Arndt, and Spener and his disciples, and employed on them the hot zeal with which they had once fought the papists and other sects. But the Wolfian philosophy coming on, they felt com pelled to oppose it, and to avow those sound principles which they could not tolerate in Spener and the Halle School. " Yet I do not believe it will be the same with the inaugurated reformation of life as with the transpired reformation in doc trine, but that God will remove the godless beforehand by BENGEL S APPRECIATION OF THE CHURCH. 381 his mighty judgnients, and that a small germ will be left, which will give rise to a people who shall serve the Lord. The good, which has grown so gloriously for a time, again stands stiU. The Halle style has become too short for the present time. Zinzendorf will not accomplish his plan of opening a reservoir for the concurrence of the streams of the water of life, and from which the whole world can be watered. It is also no use to let the church get entangled, and attempt to relieve it by legal violence and confusion. For this would be opposed to the spirit of Christianity, — which is a spirit of love; and the consequence would be complete relapse into a blind and wild heathendom. We therefore willingly let every thing stand which can; whatever has validity we . grant it such; and what can be useful we will usefully employ. Christ remains our complete glory, and those who unite in him are one. In a word, this is the safest course: "To be friends with all who love Jesus, but to remain free from all adhesion, to others." Bengel would therefore not have us separate from. theL visible church, though many of its branches be corrupted.. To it must be attributed the preservation of the Holy Script ures, and without it the history of Christ would long since have become a fable. We must adapt ourselves to circum stances, and long and pray that the Lord will soon come and make everything new. We see that Bengel?s view was not confined to the present. Neither did he find and laud, with the skeptics, the golden age of the future; nor yet did he unqualifiedly condemn reason with a blindly orthodox zeal. He stood in and over the church, but not outside of it. He did not strive to make his view and reason predominant, nor to subject the opinions of others to his authority, and to. build a sect upon his name. In this withholding of himself, with .aU the greatness and importance of his nature, there lies that real majesty of character which we have found in all true Reformers,— such as Luther had in his day, and Arndt, Spener, and others possessed at a later time. From this point of view we must contemplate Bengel's apocalyptic inquiries. Whoever has heard that Bengel fixed 382 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. upon the year 1836 as the beginning of the millennium, and now (so many years later) rejoices in his own existence, and, in the midst of the railroads and steam-wonders of our century, sees before him a long succession of centuries in which humanity will progress, will indeed sympathize with the good Swabian prophet, — with his year of 1836, — and regard JiimseU all the wiser, since it never occurred to Bengel, with all his calculations and numbers, to reckon thus. Now it is trite that Bengel's calculations certainly went wrong, and we should find in them a new warning as to how great minds (even Newton not excepted) can go astray in this depart ment. But I ask you who scoff at him: Have you never miscalculated? Have you, perhaps, never made mistakes? A.nd cannot great miscalculations be made by you, who, though not with expressed and known figures, but yet in indefinite flights, have dreamed of a time when the progress of culture and the universally elevated enjoyment of life will bring us the kingdom of heaven on earth, and who say, with the Apostle James: "To-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain : whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." In this respect, at least, Bengel's miscalculations neither harmed himself nor anybody else. Besides, in his apocalyptic reckoning he was always modest enough to admit the possibility of error. "If single points do not come to pass," said he, " the whole thing will not be wrong; only one pane will be broken in the apoca lyptic building." The year 1836 was to him more than a window-pane; it stood before him as the great termination, and therefore he says further: "But should this year pass on without perceptible change, there would certainly be a 'fatal mistake in my system,^ and then must reflection be used to see where it is." We would use reflection now, yet not to trace out on paper the mistakes in Bengel's calculation, but to understand the truth and error of his procedure. His error lay in his affix ing a definite number, and wresting the incalculable into the THE TRUTH UNDERLYING BENGEL'S CALCULATIONS. 383 sphere of the calculable. But the great truth underlying these calculations is not disturbed by his erroneous prophecy. Here only the window-pane is broken, but the ground stands fast: That everything which we regard as the progress of the age, as development, and as a battle of antagonisms and their reconciliation, must finally cooperate for the realization of divine plans, and for the introduction of that true kingdom of God of which we cannot really say, " Lo, here is Christ, or there," but which is built up invisibly among us in the midst of the visible world, and breaks forth at times in the demonstration of divine power. In this light, Gustavus Schwab, a late poet, known and valued by us all, has regarded the prophecy of his great countryman, in The Prophecy of the Chiliast, a poem which he wrote for a morning paper in the beginning of the year 1836. We would also say with him: "The past, in all its clear display, Is read with ease on history's page; The future, seek it as you may, Cannot be read by greatest sage. For, in the darkness of its cell, The faintest lines no one can tell; Reason's flickering lamp goes out,— The future still is clothed in doubt But yet our earnest hopes are true; God's kingdom has its certain hour To come. Our longing's beauteous hue Is grandly real. Where clouds did lower, And drifting snow and piercing cold Their wintry carnival did hold, Shall fruitful beauty smile in joy, And praise our blissful hours employ." To Bengel's mind it was clear that the time was ripe, and that the dawn of the blissful future was at hand. The more definitely and rigorously he could understand the charac teristics of the present, the more firmly, was he convinced that he had clear views of the future. Let us listen to him, the strict but not unfafr judge of his times, as he speaks of his Own and the coming age: "Old people like to relate their life. So, because the world is beginning to be old, it also 384 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. relates its life; therefore the study of history is getting prom inent. The world's beginning to be ripe can be also seen in the fact that the way to commit sin and maintain it is ever acquiring more importance as an art. ... It is as if , spiritual winter is coming on; it is a miserably cold time, and an awakening must come. The scribblers for the mer cenary journals have done much to destroy taste, and through their journals we can learn the spirit of the age. This spirit increases as skepticism and naturalism gain strength ; the Holy Scriptures are despised even by those who attach some importance to them, but often so abuse them that many are offended and go astray. The power of reason and nature is exaggerated beyond measure, so that we shall soon not know what is faith and grace, and, in a word, what is supernatural. The instruments by which God has shown to his people so many blessings and miracles are scorned; one makes him self a Joseph, another a Moses, a third a David; and what God has accomplished by them is converted to political designs and stratagems. The chance notions which every one has, are foolishly presented for the diversion and disorder of the mind, and teachers and prominent men are so affected by them that judgment is pronounced upon even the lowest people, and healthful discipline and doctrine are robbed of their good effect with all the boast of increasing dexterity. Many make themselves the Lord Jesus Christ himself, and I dare not repeat what sort of speeches are made by such blasphemous people. There are men who aim with their pen to destroy the foundation of the Christian religion, and will finally receive public remuneration from their equals; — even now they are clandestinely supported. The doctrine of the Holy Spirit is already gone; that of Christ is on the wane; and that of the Creation hangs by only a slender thread. Religion is, at heart, regarded as only the bridle for the populace, and many preachers think the same thing, and lament that they are not also laymen. Everywhere we meet with mere moraUty and natural honor, so that everything higher is laughed at, and especially is the wonderful good ness of God in Jesus Christ undervalued. It is made a part BENGEL'S VIEWS OF THE FUTURE AND THE PRESENT. 385 of politics to so act and speak as to leave no trace of reU gion, God, and Christ." But Bengel thinks that all this is mere child's play to the coming recklessness. He compares his times with a February storm. " It is now rain and now sunshine, and this will con tinue until, finally, the good and pleasant spring-weather gains the upper hand, and the verdure breaks out from beneath the snow." Some examples will show that Bengel, who so strikingly portrayed the present, was not altogether wrong in his views of the future. I do not attach much importance to his po Utical prophecies, — how he anticipated the dissolution of the German Empire, the secularization of the cloisters, the French Empire, and the Revolutions in Spain and Greece; for, whUe these occurred, many others did not. But his anticipation and prophecy of greater religious development is, in many respects, an evidence of his keenness of perception. "The doctrine of the "inner word" [as the Mystics at that time an nounced it] will effect much injury if once the philosophers begin to make use of it. Humanly speaking, they desire the kernel without the stem, and husk, and shell, — that is, Christ without the Bible, — and they go from the most subtle to the grossest extremes without knowing how they are getting along." He here well characterizes that mystical idealism advanced by the new philosophy, and that so-called speculative Christianity which suddenly jumped out of the midst of its subtle dialectics with its skeptical denial of all religion.1 Bengel also knew how to judge the bright and dark sides of the practical tendency of recent times, when he says: "Among the signs of a speedy change in the world this miist be included : that there is a general and special forgetf ulness of the carefulness of our ancestors for posterity, and; that those who would apply, by temporal measures, something important for the common good do not look so much at per manent institutions and benefactions as at sudden and certain 1 Not that the doctrine of the inner word, where discreetly handled, has not its great importance, — which is, unfortunately, too little re garded by Protestants. 386 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. fruit, — at missionaries, care for emigrants, editions of the Bi ble, devotional books, educational institutions, etc. God takes part in all such matters." He recognized the awakened interest for missions in the Protestant Church at that day as a special sign of the times, and the progress of these efforts proves that he was not deceived. We cannot further pursue Bengel's literary labors. His concise and often very acute manner of explaining the Script ures by brief indications is admitted by all theologians, and his Gnomon has lately again become an indispensable aid to theological students. Even many of his single expressions on doctrinal and practical points are real nuggets of gold. I desist from introducing particulars, since Burk's book, Ben gel's Life and Labors, which appeared in 1832, can be easily consulted. In the same work there is an elaborate portrayal of Bengel's domestic life, from which I make only a few ex tracts. Bengel's marriage was one of those formed in heaven, , for it was consummated by looking to heaven for heaven. He tells us himself how deeply impressed he was at the wedding by the words of the Wurtemberg Liturgy: "I was in a proper frame of mind before the altar, and when the point about the cross was read, everything represented by the cross came before me, and my heart made its complete resolution, though with much timidity. But when the blessing was pronounced upon me, I was gradually pervaded by a mild sweetness; and thus has my whole married life been. . . . I have found in my wife the desired help-meet, and there fore I have often prayed God, that, notwithstanding her many sufferings, he would spare her to me to the end of my pil grimage. I have learned so much in my married life that I am charmed with it. It is only pride that makes one de preciate and abuse the married estate. What God has or dained is always better than what men choose." Bengel had twelve children, the half of whom were taken away in child hood. But in his loss he proved himself the true Christian. He applied the greater portion of his time to the education of his children, — and no one can doubt that it was truly Christian. His training furnishes an example of what we have BENGEL'S EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES. 387 earlier maintained, that, in well-understood Christianity, the real principles "of philanthropy can be found in a purer and more natural form than in Rousseau and Basedow. "It is not necessary," says Bengel, "that we should trouble our selves about many maxims of education; for the simplest method is the best. We must avoid all artifice, as education is not an art. . . . The well-digger only removes the obstructions, and the water will run of itself." The premature burdening of children with religious matter was opposed to . Bengel's principles of education. "There are examples," says he, " that, when the power of the memory and understanding of the young is overburdened, in riper years they do not grasp Christianity so profoundly as those who knew less of it untU then, but who are now abler to digest such solid food. Their strength of soul is weakened, and they have become mechanically familiarized with Christianity. This is the source of spiritual drowsiness, plethora, false assurance, self-satis faction, and self-coneeitedness." Though Bengel was no disciple of Basedow, he was op posed to all the severe methods of education which had earlier characterized pedagogic orthodoxy to a certain extent. His principle was: "Much pruning is only an injury to a young tree, and a child who gets into difficulty, and is nauseated with his lessons, must be allowed rest until he recover him self, and be able to receive that friendly admonition which aids far more than harshness and severity. ... To deal with children pleasantly, friendly, kindly, and not angrily and petulantly, is right and praiseworthy." Yet Bengel sought the deeper secret of education elsewhere,— in prayer with his children as well as for them. "If parents seek to lead their children to true honesty of heart and simplicity of thought,— to Christ himself,— their faith, which can endure even the foibles of their children, will preserve its confidence and love beyond measure. ... I have not desired to make my daughters artful, either temporally or spiritually; they have been trained simply according to the patriarchal method,. and therefore have been preserved from coquetry, romances,. and similar nonsense. All their defects can be supplied by 388 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. husbands. "This would not be so easily the case if I had adopted a more rigorous method." And Bengel could conse quently testify that his children and grandchildren gave him no sorrow, but real joy, and that the blessing of the father and grandfather rested upon them. This picture of Bengel's domestic life reminds us of Luther's, just as Bengel's general method of looking at things and passing an opinion upon them, the impressiveness of his thoughts and words, and his flashing and ready wit, also remind us forcibly of Luther. Even the efficacy ascribed by Bengel to prayer leads us back to Luther's day. I give an incident as I have learned it. When once a violent storm was raging, during which the hail inflicted great damage, an individual rushed into the room where Bengel was, ex claiming, "Oh, Prelate, everything is lost!" But Bengel quietly went to the window, opened it, raised his hands, and prayed : "Stop, Father!" From that moment the storm subsided. "A child of God," says Bengel, "will never sail away in cognito."1 He meant, that even on the death-bed Christian feeling would be preserved. This was the case with him. His bed of sickness and of death was the expression of his whole life. There were no exciting and surprising scenes to make his death instructive. Bengel desired, as his friend and pupil Oetinger says, "not to die pompously, but plainly, just as if one were going out of the door to his business;" there fore there is nothing remarkable to be said of his death. He received the holy eucharist with his family, and did not talk much with either his wife or children. He said he would be forgotten for awhile, but would again be brought to mind.2 And it was really so. The period of skepticism looked proudly far above him, and a later day has first learned to appre ciate him and his school. Bengel died on the 2nd of No-, vember, 1752. Of his disciples, Christian Frederick Oetinger, ' Prelate of Murrhard, has latterly acquired much additional honor. He bas been .called the Magus of the South, as Hamann was the 1 Suddeutsche Originalien, No. I. p. 25.. * Ibid., No. I. p. 41. OETINGER, THE MAGUS OF THE SOUTH. 389 Magus of the North.1 While a boy, Oetinger displayed but little intellectual capacity, and he was only called "simple little Fred." The rigid training he received from his father and his instructor was not calculated to kindle the slumbering spark. Piety was screwed on and poured in, — as we often find the case in that period. The father taught his son long prayers on his knees, and when his mother went out she would place the child on a seat and put the Bible in his hands, with a strict command not to leave the chair until he had read the prescribed number of chapters. "You have commanded me well," thought the boy; "you can go waUting and I must read!" And yet this hard way was really his path to salvation. In the midst of the darkness he saw the light, and when he was once reading a passage in. Isaiah (chapter liv. 11 — 14), he said to himself." "How beautifully this reads. If these beautiful things applied to me, it would *be well worth the pains to seek conversion" With a desire for salvation there also arose a thirst for knowledge; readings and traveling: He collected a little money to buy books, and once even resolved to leave home and go to America. His unsatisfied state of mind was finally relieved by prescribed. studies. The boy desired to learn jurisprudence and politics, but his father had set him apart when an infant for theology. He was placed in the Theological, Preparatory School in the Cloister of Blaubeuren. Here Bulfinger, a disciple of Wolf, instructed him in logic, while Professor Weissensee taught him Mysticism. This study won the upper hand in the dis ciple, though after a long conflict. He finally resolved that he "would study theology, and let philosophy alone." 1 See his Selbstbiographie, published by Julius Hamberger, with a Preface by G. H. von Schubert. Stuttgart, 1845. — On his relation to Bengel, see Ibid., p. XII. — His principal works : Theologia ex Idea Vitae Deducta, and Biblisches und Emblematisches Wb'rterbuch. — Oetinger was born at Goppingen, in Wurtemberg, on the 6th of May, 1702. He wasi jpeechless after 1779, and died on the 10th of February, 1782, in his eightieth year. His reputation has been greatly increased of late by Anberlen's thorough work, Die Theosophie Friedrich Christoph Oetinger's nach ihren Grwndzugen (Tubingen, 1848), with which we may compare Oetinger's Theologie, by Hamberger. Stuttgart, 1852. ' Vol. I.— 26 390 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. . Soon the young Mystic came into conjunction with the In spired sect, particularly with Rock. Their character impressed him, and their persecutions recommended them to his favor. "These people," thought he, "suffer bondage, imprisonment, and stripes for the sake of theh* faith; but our pastors and deans never suffer such things ; the former appear more hke the Apostles." But when he compared the high-sounding speeches of the Inspired with the simple language of the Bible, he observed a difference, and withdrew from them. In Tubingen he once more applied himself to the philosophy of Leibnitz and Wolf, and was " altogether immersed in the doctrine of the monads." He also studied Malebranche. But Mysticism again presented itself to him as the antagonist of worldly philosophy. He made the acquaintance of a disciple of Jacob Boehme, named Pulvermuller, " the great fanatic who made a deep hole in the ground where he might be safe when Babylon, according to his calculation, would fall to ruin." ;Like many pious self-taught people, Pulvermuller despised scientific learning. "You candidates are forced people," he used to say; "you cannot study according to freedom in Christ, but must do it as you are compelled!" This seemed to Oetinger not altogether without foundation. He ventured upon Boehme's Mysticism, though without becoming an "imi tator" of the German theosophist. Oetinger was also greatly -influenced by John Frederick Reuss and Elias Camerarius. s After finishing his studies, Oetinger became intimately related to Bengel, corresponding with him and visiting him frequently. His whole object now was to impregnate Wolfian philosophy with a deeper Biblical philosophy, and to acquire therein the final principles and highest unity of all thought. He read the Church Fathers industriously, especially Augustin, and pored over the Rabbins and their cabalistic speculations, an employment in which he was assisted by Cappel Hecht, a learned Jew. He visited Jena and Halle, and made the acquaintance of Francke, Spangenberg, and Zinzendorf — with the last of whom he spent some time in Hernnhut. In Erfurt he met with a peasant, Marcus Volker, a man of such extraordinary muscular strength that he could raise a wagon OETINGER S TRAVELS AND AUTHORSHIP. 391 with one hand: He was descended from a family of giants. His grandfather was an Austrian colonel in the war against the Turks, " during which a Turk cut off the upper part of his skull without injuring the brain." His father married a peasant woman, and had twelve children by her, of whom Mark was the youngest. He neither learned to read nor write, and was employed as a hostler. But when in the field, the " inner sight" came upon him, so that, like Joseph, he foresaw when awake the "destinies of his brethren." He professed to possess "central understanding." Oetinger lauded the man's humUity and "great discernment under the coarse exterior of the peasant." Yet he was not satisfied with him, and blamed him "for despising reason, and professing to receive everything immediately from God." The same man who boasted of his central understanding could not count the money that he earned as a cartman. "The power of cal culation and the central understanding," remarks Oetinger naively, "are hard to unite." Oetinger made many other journeys. He saw Leipzig, Berlin, and the Netherlands. In Amsterdam he became acquainted with the "sectarian minds." The Abbot Stein- metz, of the Cloister of Bergen, at Magdeburg, was a choice Christian, and Oetinger entered into intimate relations with> him. In Strasburg he studied anatomy, and "witnessed the badly advised cures of the doctors." His inquiring mind was also interested in chiromancy and physiognomy. After many journeys he returned to his native country, and after filling many positions in it, he became Abbot of Murrhard. Oetinger was very fruitful as a mystical author. His works amounted to seventy in number, the titles of which betray his effort to combine supernatural and natural things in their higher unity; or, as he himself expresses it, "met aphysics in connection with chemistry." Oetinger was a theosophist and religious psychologist. In antagonism to the, skeptical and volatilizing tendency, he sought to hold firm the concrete, individual, the real, and the vigorous, in all their picturesqueness, vividness, and sensuousness, so as^ to make the deeper and stronger impression upon the mind. 392 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Instead, therefore, of regarding Scriptural descriptions of the kingdom of God and of the new birth as, mere figures, and of dissolving them into abstract conceptions, as was done by the later translators of the Bible, or by Teller in his Diction ary, Oetinger regarded them as realities and facts; and while skepticism believed that it must translate the BibUcal language into western form, which could not easily happen without a diminution of the original meaning, Oetinger be lieved, on the other hand, that we must return to that Bibli cal view of things, and Uve in the very heart of it. His language, therefore, is sometimes dark, mysterious, and not comprehensible by every mind. He strives by it to represent everything in a new and original light, and in this effort he confesses that, by the confusion of philosophic language, it .would be hard for one who is illuminated as by lightning to speak with new tongues. Men must sometimes be satisfied with only small and weak beginnings, until the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waves of the sea. He therefore opposed Teller's Dictionary as a " Biblical and Em blematical" Dictionary (1776), after having earlier published (1772) an Epistle to the Theologians, "that no worldly phi losophy is needed for the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures, and that we should detest Semler's devastation of revelation." We shall hereafter see bow he became a disseminator of Swedenborg's opinions.1 Crusius, of Leipzig, another disciple of Bengel, opposed Wolfianism similarly to Oetinger by opposing the dry form- , alism of the understanding with his own fresh views, in which we must acknowledge that clearness of thought was some times immersed so deeply that it is not surprising to find Crusians pronounced mad-caps by their opponents. Philip Matthias Hahn, who died in 1790, when Pastor of Echterdingen, was another original disciple of Bengel. He devoted himseU to the study of mathematics and mechanics, \ 1 On Lavater's relation to Oetinger, see the former's Biographie by Gessner, Vol. II. p. 76. He could not completely indorse him, though he placed a high estimate on him and Bengel. Many others shared this opinion. , , PHILIP MATTHIAS HAHN. 393 and especiaUy to the manufacture of sun-dials. Hahn became a Pietist through the reading of the Bible and Arndt's True Christianity, and by his remarkable encounters in early life with poverty and want. And he became such without knowing who the Pietists were, but providentially learned of them, though without being directly and formally connected with them. He subsequently acknowledged it as a special prov idence of God, that, in the midst of cold and nominal -Chris tians, he had become acquainted with such hearty disciples of Christ, and yet had preserved his freedom. Hahn very properly speaks thus of the Pietism of the day: "The one sided and duU repetition of the terms sin and grace will do for beginners, for on this ground a Christian must begin to build; but many truths belong to the whole gospel which are just as necessary, refreshing, and awakening, that first bring us to full conviction and peace of heart, and make the Bible comprehensible, dear, and pleasant. For I regard this the true spirit of Christianity: When every word of God in the Old and in the New Testament is sweet, important, and dear ; and when we find therein no favorite truths, but everything is good and agreeable to us, because it is connected with the rest."1 Oetinger had said similarly: "If ninety-nine things stand in the Bible which I cannot comprehend, and I believe the hundredth to be right, this will be the leaven for the ninety-nine."2 Hahn's writings, which were directed to the promotion of strictly Biblical Christianity, had a mystical,, pietistic tinge. Yet they were free from that narrow-heart- edness which he upbraided in false Pietism, and enjoyed great favor, especially in Switzerland. Schubart, the celebrated poet, has extolled his character as a man, in a number of poems.3 Still another disciple of Bengel, Philip Frederick HiUer, has distinguished himself as a lyric poet. It is said of his Col lection of Spiritual Songs, that, next to the Bible, it is per haps the most widely tirculated book in Wurtemberg. Knapp * See P. M. Hahn's Hinterlassene Schriften, published by Chr. Ullr. Hahn, with Preface by Wurster. Heilbronn, 1828. Vol. I.: Lebenslauf, with Appendices, pp. 12, 13. * Siiddeutsche Originalien, p. 45. 8 Eepub. in Hahn's Schriften, p. 112 S. 394 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. has communicated particular information, in .his Christoterpe (1842), on the man himself, who died in 1769, while pastor at Steinheim-on-the-Brenz. Hiller's hymns are very different from those of Gellert. Instead of the temperate language of reflection which we have seen in GeUert, a figurative and Biblical style predominates in Hiller, which is again more favorably received in the present day than was recently the case. The new Wurtemberg Hymn-Book very properly con tains many of Hiller's hymns.1 Their language moves on with more power than Gellert's; they have more the tone of church-music. Still, all of Hiller's hymns are not of the same import; and we can so compare them with Gellert's, that, according to circumstances and our mood at the time, we would now prefer a hymn of Hiller to one of Gellert, and again one of GeUert to one of Hiller, without absolutely granting the precedence to either one of the poets. Finally, we come to the man of Bengel's school who first planted Wurtemberg Pietism on Swiss soil, or, rather, in this form has tried to protect strict and positive Christianity against the usurpations of illuminism and negation. We mean John Augustus Urlsperger, the founder of the German Chris tian Society. He was the son of Samuel Urlsperger, Senior of the Ministry at Augsburg, a tried friend of Bengel, and a great promoter of Christian knowledge and Christian lUe. The son also occupied first a pastoral position in Augsburg, but relinquished it voluntarily in 1776, and labored as a private individual for the foundation of a society, which, dis regarding confessional differences, aimed at the maintenance of pure doctrine and Christian Ufe. Urlsperger directed his attention first of all to* Germany and Switzerland, but he hoped that therefrom the society would extend over the Con tinent.2 " Only those persons who rejoice in the gospel of ' Comp., for example, No. 35 of the Wurtemberg Hymn-Book: "What is my joy if Thou be not?;" No. 51: "Bow ye mountains; fall ye hills;" No. 54: "Sing to God, for God is love," and many others. 2 Comp. the little work: Beschaffenheit und Zwecke einer zu errichtenden deutschen Gesellschaft Hiaiiger BefSrderer reiner Lehre and wahrer Gott- seligkeit, by Dr. J. A. Urlsperger (Basle, 1781. 8vo.), and Ostertag's Treatise, inVol.IV.of theBeitrtige of the Basle Historical Society,p. 195. ff. THE GERMAN CHRISTIAN SOCIETY. 395 Christ, and recognize Jesus as their Lord, their only Mediator and' Savior, and desire to adhere to him and follow him, and be saved by him, . . . and who would willingly unite with true Christians to maintain purity of doctrine and a godly life," should be received into this society. The establishment of such a society seemed to Urlsperger a pressing necessity. " There is spreading," he says, " a giddy spirit throughout the land in our day. In religion, only a few men know what they would or should believe. . . . The maxims in which the greater part of our youth are trained, are, on the average, both theoretically and practically worthless or insufficient; in the main, they are not Christian enough, and the metbod is not what God's word teaches us. There is a desire to train up virtuous heathen to pay to the Christian religion the out ward compliment of honoring it by calling themselves Chris tians, and of carelessly performing Christian ceremonies, and of even participating in the Lord's Supper. These persons, by virtue of their high social position, permit themselves to be instructed by a teacher now fundamentally, now moderately, and now erroneously, in Christianity. The chief principle of our times is this: A wish to be wiser than God's word, and when this will not conform to reason and ideas, to deal artistically with it untU it is made man's word; and thus, in the effort to remove one evil condition, another, — its oppo site, and perhaps still worse, — is fallen into." The society was designed to counteract this general corrup tion. Its chief -object was the advancement of the Christian religion, or of the kingdom of God. But should it succeed, in opposition to the superficiality of the times, in working upon the basis of thorough learning, and promoting social and ecclesiastical prosperity, God would be thanked for it. But its chief aim was religious, — to teach and to practice Christianity. Moreover, the society compelled nobody, but left every one to his free choice. The dissemination of good religious writings of a purely Biblical import,1 the com munion of all true Christians by frequent correspondence, 1 The Sammlwngen fur Liebhaber chrisllic'her Wahrheit, which still appear in Basle, were published by this Society. 396 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the spread of intelligence concerning the kingdom of God, and social edification, seemed to be the most proper means for advancing this object. But, above all, individuals themselves had to set a good example. The members of the society had to obligate themselves to fraternal love, faithful prayer,1 conscientious observance of the Sabbath, holding domestic wor ship, maintaining domestic discipline in general, and rigid seU- examination. They had to pledge themselves to aid each other in counsel and deed, and to receive fraternal discipline with honor. Finally, monthly meetings were appointed for carrying out these sentiments. The founder did not think it best to determine a central point for the society to work outwardly, but, as he expressed himself, it should commence in different places and points, and from the circumference the center should be found. " Permit me," says Urlsperger, in his work on the Operation and Aim of the German Society, "to explain more clearly. There are places where we know a number of persons who have it in mind to advance the kingdom of God by partic ipation in this society. I justly name Basle as the first of them. It was the first place which granted vigorous entrance to the enterprise, and first supported it by word and deed. The citizens of Basle are almost the only ones who have thus far contributed the large means required by our design. I place London in the middle. Its strength is at this time very small, but, in view of some circumstances, cannot be greater now ; but what does not now exist can come to pass by God's help. I name Berlin last, because Basle and London have taken the initiative in the establishment of a similar enter prise. In another view, it might come fifst; for in such a city as Berlin, where there are so many exceUent advantages, might not something excellent for God and the times be ex- * One of the statutes reads: We desire that, at a certain hour, prayer be offered to God for all men, and for the kingdom of Christ in par ticular; for all civil authorities, and especially for those in the places where we live; and particularly for the increase of our Society, and the bodily and spiritual welfare of all the members, under all circum stances. BASLE AS* A CENTER OF CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 397 pected?" Therefore the founder thought Basle, London, and BerUn the points whence the society should operate. In these places private associations should be formed, and, communi cating with each other, preserve a record of their corre spondence. But Basle was at the outset marked as the prin cipal place, and best adapted to Germany and Switzerland.1 And so Basle has remained down to the present day the seat of a society which is called the German Christian Society, or the German Society; and which has become the mother of so many other flourishing institutions among us, such as the Bible and Tract Societies, the Institute for the Poor in Beuggen, etc. But forty years before the German Society was established among us, another association had obtained a footing in Basle, whose principal objeet was the same, yet, in particular respects, and (as was seen at that time) even in some essential matters, proceeded really from another point of view. I mean the Evangelical Society of Brethren. Its rise among us was coincident with the history of the Evangelical Moravian Brotherhood in general, and with the history of its founder, Zinzendorf. If we had strictly followed chronological order we would have spoken of this society and its founder earlier; but we have purposely delayed its history, because I believe that, in view of what has been said, we have now first reached the standpoint where we can estimate aright the character of Zinzendorf, and the relation of the Moravian Brethren to the whole church of the times. 1 "The people of Basle," says a letter- from abroad, "blew their trum pets so loud that others came to them. They spared no pains or ex pense for the good of the institution; and they also have excellent _ men of all classes who can and will nobly sustain the cause through 1 their 'instrumentality. They also live in a free city, where the few est obstacles exist." In other German cities, Nuremberg for example, there arose similar institutions, which stood in connection with the Basle Society. LECTURE XVIII. ZINZENDORF. — BIOGRAPHIES OF SPANGENBERG, SCHRAUTEN BACH, MULLER, AND VARNHAGEN. — ZINZENDORF'S YOUTH AND MARRIAGE. — CHRISTIAN DAVID. — FOUNDING OF HERRN- HUT. — DAVID NITSCHMANN. — ZINZENDORF'S TRAVELS, AD VENTURES, DEATH AND BURIAL, AND CHARACTERISTICS. — - THE FURTHER EXTENSION OF THE MORAVIAN BROTHERHOOD. We have already remarked, that it was not always profes sional theologians who undertook to defend Christiamty against worldly and corrupt tendencies, but that where theologians either moved in clumsy armor or readily abandoned sacred things, there were godly and gifted laymen who contributed greatly to the progress of religious development by instruction, organization, and practical labor. This is proved by the rise of the Moravian Brotherhood, and by the history of its founder. First of all, we meet with the systematic, organizing, and developing activity which arises from a talent not often found in theorists of profound thought and great learning, or in the most fruitful and genial minds, while just this talent is most powerful and manifest in the conqueror and founder of states. We see poor, plain mechanics, descendants of the old Hussites, who, oppressed because of their faith, have left their early home and settled on German soil, in order to be able to worship God in their own way more freely and better. In their midst there arises the great form of a prominent and highly-cultivated man, with his wife standing beside him. We see this count and countess evoking, in union with those people, a society which was destined to be a model Chris tian brotherhood, and the instrument of new life, — a church BIOGRAPHIES OF ZINZENDORF. 399 which has branched out far and wide over the Protestant world of both hemispheres, and now numbers its public and private friends among people of every social and intellectual class. Designing to portray briefly for you the history of its founder, I must ask for this subject what I have as sumed during all these lectures,— the right of a free and impartial statement of history and of my own opinion (so far as can be granted me from my standpoint). And on the other hand, I repeat the assurance that I am led by no minor view, and by no favor or prejudice which would prevent a candid description of the movement. Moreover, I will relate more than I will pass opinion on,— I will rather let history speak than speak myself. In order that we may present history as purely as possible, however, we must first of all be certain of our sources, and therefore we shall most gladly refer to contemporaries. Two of them in particular have described the lUe of Zinzendorf. The first is Augustus Gottlieb Span genberg, Bishop of the Moravian Church after 1741 (died in 1792), a man who dedicated the greater part of his life to the objects of the Moravians, and who labored as well' abroad in founding the North American Missions as at home in establishing doctrine. Spangenberg knew the count well, and was attached to him in love, yet without becoming a blind partisan. The Biography by Spangenberg is the most elaborate that we possess, embracing eight parts in three volumes ; yet Reichel and Duvernois have published selections from it. The other contemporaneous biography is very brief; really not a biography, but rather a short and striking por traiture. It was also written by an intimate friend of Zinzen dorf, though not a formal member of the Brotherhood, and has been published at a later day, after having been preserved by the Moravians in manuscript. Baron Charles Lewis von Schrautenbach was the son of a government-councilor of Hesse-Darmstadt, and was born in Darmstadt. He lived much in the world and knew it well. He was connected in various ways with Zinzendorf and the Brethren, and was a near relative of the count by marriage. " I have nowhere found," says Zimmermann, in his Solitude, when speaking of Schrau- 400 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. tenbach, "a more frank, open, and. honest soul; nowhere have I seen an eye which could penetrate more truly and more justly wherever human eyes could see." Of course, a faithful biography might be expected from a man supported by such a reliable witness. Besides the contemporaries of Zinzendorf, later writers have written his life. Among them, John George Miiller and Varnhagen von Ense deserve spe cial mention. Miiller, the heroic brother of the great his torian, was the first late writer who had the courage, after the example of his great teacher Herder (in his Adras'tea)* to speak appreciatively of Zinzendorf.1 His appreciation was frequently that of wonder, and of justification of, and apol ogy for, his many weaknesses. I cannot praise Varnhagen von Euse's capacity for biographical sketches. Opinions have been divided on his Biography of Zinzendorf; 2 some of which are favorable and others the reverse,3 — a fact which would in dicate its impartiality. Every one can read it and pass judg ment upon it himself. We shall now proceed with our own account. Nicholas, Count and Proprietor of Zinzendorf and Potten- dorf, was born at Dresden on the 26th of May, 1700. The Zinzendorf family had long been in possession of great wealth and honorable positions in Austria, and had been raised by Leopold I. to the nobility. Some of its individual members had early been attached to the Protestant faith. The count's grandfather had removed to Franken because of his attach- , ment to the Lutheran confession; and two of his sons, one of whom was the father of our count, came to Saxony. The second wife of this one, who was Minister of Electoral Saxony, was Charlotte Justina, Countess of Gersdorf, by whom he had the son of whom we are now to speak. * Bekenntnisse merkiv-urdiger Manner von sich selbst. Vol. DU. 8 In the Biographische Denkmaler. Berlin, 1830. 8 Comp. Tholuck's Vermischte Schriften, Vol. I., p. 433. The literature on Zinzendorf has been greatly increased since then. We call attention to Schrautenbach's Mittheilungen, published by Kolbing (1851), and to J. M. Verbeek, Des Grafen von- Zinzendorf's Leben und Charakter. Gnadau, 1845. ZINZENDORF'S CHILDHOOD. 401 Only six weeks after the birth of the child the father died, after having given him his parting blessing. The mother was both pious and educated, but her child enjoyed her care only during his earliest years. Soon after the death of her hus band, the countess left Dresden, and lived on her estate of Grosshennersdorf, in the Oberlausitz, and, after a few years, she married again, when she removed to Berlin, and com mitted the training of her child to the charge of her mother. In the grandmother's house his young heart received those first impressions of piety which lasted him throughout his life. The aged Spener, who had been present at his baptism, ever remained a friend in the family of the grandmother,' and at one of his visits in , Grosshennersdorf he gave young Zinzendorf his blessing, as a future promoter of the kingdom of Jesus. Under mild discipline and pious care the boy early became acquainted with that treasury of religious books and hymns from which the pious life of the day drew, next to the Bible,' its only nourishment. As his nature de veloped vigorously and hopefully, he exhibited at times much taste for devotional exercises, and soon there arose in him an impulse to become vitally related to God as his Savior, with whom he now formed an inward bond. " Be Thou mine, dear Savior, and I will be Thine!" He communed with him whole hours. He even wrote little letters to him, which he threw out of the window into the street, hoping that his Heavenly Friend would find them. He experienced even from chUdhood, as he expressed it, a fire in his bones to preach the eternal divinity of Jesus. And this he attempted when only a boy of six years of age; for he preached in a large, empty hall, where he collected the chairs for his auditors. In 1706, a body of Swedish soldiers, who were seeking booty, came to Grosshennersdorf and entered the castle. The war riors stood astonished before the young preacher, listening devoutly to his sermon, and almost forgetting why they had come. His wish to do good was intimately united with his love of prayer. AU the money that the young count received as presents was immediately given by him to the poor, and he was 402 I HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ever ready to serve others. His further spiritual develop ment was, in the main, dependent upon the prevalent religious tendency. He exhibited little taste for mathematics, and learned languages very slowly. On the other hand, when only in his fourth year he learned all the prominent points of the Christian religion, and exhibited very early a decided taste for hymns. He tells us himself how he rejoiced many weeks beforehand at the approach of Advent and Christmas; and his heart leaped within him when he thought that some thing special could soon be said about the Savior, and what he did, and that such hymns would be sung as these: "From heaven high I've come!"; "Oh world, see here thy Light!"; and "Oh head, all covered o'er with blood and wounds!" Then he rejoiced that he could sing these songs too, and could feel transported, as though he had been present him seU. In his tenth year, Zinzendorf came to HaUe, and attended the Royal Grammar-School, where A. H. Francke took, him under strict discipline, seeking to break that pride of nobility that he assumed to be in him. So he caUed him "the saucy little count," and tried on every occasion to humble him. Zinzendorf himself confesses that he was very much inchned to indiscretion in his younger years, and that he would' have been very easily led away into the youthful sins of his school mates; "but as I stood under a gracious discipline which they did not know, I was not only restrained from their wicked deeds, but was enabled more than once to lead those who would mislead me to pray with me, and to win them to the Savior." He succeeded in gathering about him some sympathetic fellow-students for social devotions; and he even founded an order, — the Order of the Grain of Mustard Seed. The badge was a golden ring, on which these words were engraved: "None of us liveth to himself." Among the friends, a Swiss was especially distinguished: Baron Frederick von Wattewill, who remained united with him aU his lUe. In the Spring of 1716, Zinzendorf returned from HaUe to Grosshennersdorf, and soon afterwards attended the University of Wittenberg; for his uncle, who directed his studies, did not wish that he should study in Halle, because he feared that he YOUNG ZINZENDORF'S RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCES. 403 would there become an unmitigated Pietist, as he had ob served in him a strong predisposition in that direction. Zin zendorf had to study law, although theology lay nearer to his heart. The necessary preparatory education was pursued by him rather from obedience than inclination. He took lessons in fencing, dancing, and riding, but "made a vow to the friend of my heart, the omnipresent Savior, that if , he would give me much dexterity in these things, I would abandon them with honor, and be at liberty to apply my time to subjects more solid, and more in keeping with my feelings and my future life. My only and true confidant has not disappointed me in this respect." He engaged also in games, though he only chose those that sharpened his mind, such as biUiards and chess ; and ii he ever played for money, he gave his gain to the poor, or bought with it Bibles for distribution. Of the Wittenberg theologians, he became very much attached to Doctor Wernsdorf, who excited in him the wish to become a preacher. But there were many obstacles to this wish, and especially the prejudices of his social clasp, yet so Uttle personal pride did Zinzendorf have, that, accord ing to his own assurance, he would have been satisfied "to be a simple catechist or happy village-pastor," though this was but Uttle evident to his relatives. He was devoted to God. "If God wiU use me in his kingdom, I will bid defi ance to the whole world, that I must be such without its thanks. But U he will not use me, I will stay with him un- forgotten; and perhaps he sees in advance, that, in these wicked times, I can do nothing more than sustain myself and look to my own salvation." In the year 1719 the count was ready for his travels, when he started first for Holland.. In the picture-gallery of Diisseldorf he was powerfully impressed by a suffering Christ (an Ecce Homo), which bore this subscription: "All this I have done for thee — What dost thou do for me?" Then the young man was ashamed of the little he had done, and wished "that the Savior would draw him into fellowship with his sufferings, if his own heart had no inclination." And thus, on the whole tour through Holland, Belgium, and France, the 404 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. steadfast longing of his spirit was for the Savior. Even- in Par is, the objects that dazzled others, — the operas, the theaters, the works of art, the gardens and fountains of Versailles, — had no power to enchant him; but what he sought in the great metropolis was Christians, God's children. Humanitarian institutions, such as the Hotel-Dieu, were, of all establishments, the most attractive to him. France was also at that time in an important ecclesiastical crisis. The philosophy of Vol taire and the Encyclopaedists had not cropped out as yet, and the names of Bossuet, Pascal, and Fenelon still shone in un diminished glory. On the other hand, the battle with the Jansenists, which had come down from the seventeenth cent ury, still continued, and acquired new importance by the bull Unigenitus. Zinzendorf became acquainted with a number of the Jansenist clergy, and was received by Cardinal Noailles, Archbishop of Paris, whose noble piety was very attractive to him, but who was not able to induce him to enter the Catholic Church. Zinzendorf returned through Strasburg and Basle to Germany. The impression that he brought home with him from his travels was not that of admiration at the glory of the world, but just the reverse. "You cannot be lieve," he wrote to his step-brother, "how distasteful to me the world has appeared while on my tour. All this loftiness of great people is a miserable thing; and no one is so splendid as not to be miserable when another stands above him; there fore, they are half dead from envy. 0 splendid wretchedness!" Zinzendorf now spent, part of his time in intercourse with the Halle Pietists, and part on the estate of his grandmother. It was only after much persuasion by his friends that he was induced, in October, 1721, to accept the position of a royal counselor at law, in connection with the government in Dres den; and he did this on condition that he would only be called to discharge su^h duties as were agreeable to his in clination. But, though in this secular position, he did not renounce his internal spiritual call. As he himself says, he Steadfastly remained a preacher, and it was solely from obe dience to his parents that he entered the service of the government, though at that very time his soul was absorbed ZrNZENDORF ENTERING ON A NEW SPHERE OF LABOR. 405 in the preaching of the sacred gospel. He convened public congregations every Sunday in Dresden, where the doors were open for all; and it was very remarkable that Superintendent Loscher, otherwise a rigidly orthodox opponent of the Pietists, indulged him in these meetings, because he did not regard him as a Pietist, and had "a Christian sympathy for his suppressed gifts." But the period had now arrived when - changed circumstances drew the count from his formerly retired life, and dissolved his connection with the old Pietism, —of which he had hitherto been only a private member, — and brought him into a new sphere of labor. The result of this measure was withheld from him, but by its means he became the head and founder, not strictly of a sect, but of a fixed religious society, which was remarkably distinguished from all previous pietistic unions, and which arose as some thing altogether new in the history of the century. Zinzendorf, to whom neither orthodoxy nor Pietism in its existing form was perfectly acceptable, had long been engaged in the thought of gathering aU true friends of the Savior, all true children of God, into a' higher association; and for this purpose he used the position which legally belonged to him as a member of the nobility. He bought of his grand mother the estate of Berthelsdorf, and in May, 1722, he re ceived the oath of allegiance. He stationed a candidate, Andrew Rothe, who enjoyed his full confidence, as pastor of the estate; and in September of the same year he was married to Erdmutha Dorothy, the sister of his friend Count Henry XXIX. of Reuss. After twenty-five years had elapsed, Zinzendorf bore witness, that she was the only one in aU the earth who was adapted to his call. "Who," he asks, "could have hved so blamelessly before the world? Who could have assisted me so much in laying aside dry formality? Who could so thoroughly have understood that phariseeism which had long been in power? Who could have so deeply under stood those false teachers who wished at different times to mingle with us? Who could have conducted my affairs these many years so hospitably and abundantly, just as circum stances demanded? Who could have relieved me from all the Vol. I.— 27 406 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. details of domestic life so perfectly? Who could have lived so economically and yet so generously? Who could have been, according to circumstances, so humble and yet so dignified? Who could have now taken the place of a servant and now of a lady, without either affecting any special spirituality or assuming the airs of the world? . . . Who could have undertaken and endured so many astonishing pilgrimages with me on land and sea?" The founding of the Moravian Brotherhood occurred in the same year with this establishment of his domestic life and the assumption of his estate. The following fact must here be borne in mind: Even in the seventeenth century there were a number of members of the Bohemian Church, — as it had arisen before the time of the Reformation, in connection with Huss, — who fled from Moravia to Poland, Prussia, and Saxony. After the beginning of the eighteenth century, a new move ment occurred among those who had remained at home. Christian David, born in 1690, at Senftleben, in Moravia, was awakened while yet a boy in charge of his father's sheep. He then traveled as a journeyman-carpenter, everywhere seek ing rest for his soul. Having reached Goriitz, he attained deeper evangelical views and inward peace through intercourse with the preachers there, and with Schafer in particular. He now sought to become the instrument of communicating the same blessing of conversion to his brethren in Moravia. He returned to them on a visit, told them his experience, and awakened. in them a desire to leave their home and settle among Christian people, where they might be established in the truth which had come to their knowledge. In an inter view with Count Zinzendorf he disclosed to him the neces sity of his brethren, and the count was ready to furnish a place on his own estate for the emigrants. David returned to Moravia with the glad tidings that God had awakened a count, who was a true child of God, and had bought an estate where he was ready to receive them. The brethren fell upon their knees, and thanked God for their providential deliver ance. The pilgrims immediately set off for Oberlausitz, Christian David conducting them. They reached their des- THE SOCIETY OF THE FOUR UNITED BRETHREN. 407 filiation after Whitsuntide, and were but few in number. On the 17th of June, 1722, the first tree was felled for building the first house. When the carpenter David made the first stroke, he used the words of the 84th Psalm: "Yea, the sparrow hath found a house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, 0 Lord of hosts, my King, and my God." Heiz, the count's chamberlain, delivered the dedicatory ser mon, and he gave to the newly-built place on the Hutberg the name of Herrnhut; for, in a letter to the count on the 8th of July, he thus wrote: "May God, in his goodness, bless this work, and grant that your excellency may build on the mountain which is called Hutberg, a city, which will stand not only under the protection of the Lord (unter des Herrn Hut), but whose inhabitants shall be ever mindful of the Lord (auf des Herrn Hut), so that it shall be vocal with praises day and night." Two years afterward, the name was formally adopted, a preacher of the church, in praying for a woman, first publicly calling the place "Herrnhut." About the end of December, the count first visited this new creation. When he saw from the road a newly-built house rising above the forest, and learned that this was the dwelling of the Moravians, he approached them, cordially welcomed them, fell upon his knees with them, thanked the Savior, invoked a blessing on the place, and commended them to the continued grace of the Lord. Henceforth Zinzendorf was firm in his thought of realizing Spener's favorite idea, — that the church can be revived by small churches within it. Accordingly, he united with Pastor Rothe, his friend Wattewill, and the preacher Schafer in. the neigh boring town of Gorlitz, in forming the Society of the Four United Brethren. Its object was to operate as much as pos- .. sible upon Christendom, especially by the dissemination of devotional works, of which Zinzendorf himself composed a number. The regular meetings, which were soon increased by sympathetic friends, were called conferences. The count frequently delivered lectures to the assembled congregation , in Berthelsdorf. He regarded himself as the spiritual assist- 408 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ant of Pastor Rothe, repeating to his hearers in the after noon the sermons which the pastor had preached in the morn ing, and thus conducting a system of catechization. People from the neighborhood soon took part, and the society was increased by the continued arrival of emigrants from Moravia. New dwellings arose around the first house, and, finally, on the 12th of May, 1724, the corner-stone of a house of wor ship was laid. "May God," said Zinzendorf on the festal occasion, "not permit this house to stand any longer than it can be, to the praise of the Savior, the dwelling of love and peace!" The by-standers felt the weight of these words, for, unfortunately, the seeds of dissension had already been sown in the new church. The Moravian Brethren were not originally of one opinion. Even here, Lutherans and Reformed contended concerning the Lord's Supper, while others had brought with them Socinian principles. Others again, particularly those who had arrived last, wished to introduce into the old con stitution of the Bohemian Brethren in Moravia a strict ec clesiastical discipline, — a measure to which the rest were opposed. Zinzendorf observed these contentions more pain fully because the errors and excesses that arose here and there were attributed to him, and soon the most prejudicial reports concerning him, as well as the new society were cir culated. In the year 1727, Zinzendorf gave up his position in Dresden, and dwelt among the Brethren. For some time he filled the office of Superintendent; gave to the church a more; solid organization and economy ; and wrote, traveled, worked, contended, and prayed for it unweariedly. Personally, he remained a Lutheran, attached to the Augsburg Confession, but without selfishly excluding the adherents of other con fessions from Christian union. But this fact, in connection with his intercourse with pious Catholics, — for whom he pre pared editions of hymns, and translated religious books (e. g. Arndt's True Christianity),— brought upon him the charge of indifference. Even the way in which he expressed himself con cerning a number of spiritual subjects, gave those who found .heresy beneath all peculiar expressions of piety an occasion (ZINZENDORF S ENEMIES.' 409 for suspecting his orthodoxy. Not even the Halle Pietists were any longer contented with him, since he dwelt less than they upon the struggle of repentance and more upon the power of redemption, less on the power of sin and more on the love of God, and less on the fear of God than on peace with God. They alleged that he made Christianity too easy for the people; indeed, the most rigid denied him the right to call himself a Christian, because he confessed that he had never experienced himself what they called repentance. Zin zendorf entered for some time into connection with the In spired in Isenburg; for example, with Rock, Dippel, and others; but this could not last long, for all sectarianism was very displeasing to him. He was regarded suspiciously by the Catholic church, and he was represented to the Emperor by the Jesuits as a man who would make his subjects un faithful, and entice them to his new religion. Thus,, with Zin zendorf s enlarged activity, there began a period of the most varied battles from without, connected with which there arose many conflicts from within, — from the very bosom of the fre quently-rent church. But yet his spirit remained firm. He sang : "It is my calling, blessed Lord, Through scorn to persevere; That I may reach Christ's portal bright,. And songs of angels hear.'* Li order to be able to devote himself fully to his mission, Zinzendorf finally concluded to formally enter the clerical profession. He made known his design to the elders and helpers of the society, but they, and still more his wife, saw difficulties in the way. The Savior himself must decide by, lot, by which it had been customary in Herrnhut to ascertain in doubtful cases the will of Heaven. The lot decided affirm atively. In conjunction with this, it happened that a mer chant of Stralsund had lately desired of Zinzendorf a Moravian teacher for his children. Zinzendorf determined to accept the position himself, and traveled to Stralsund under the name of Lewis von Freideck, in order to use the occasion to be examined and ordained there. While traveling incognito, 410 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. he was compelled to hear many evil reports about himself and the Brotherhood.1 On the 11th of April, 1734, the strange candidate and tutor delivered his trial-sermon in Stralsund amid great applause. He passed his examination, and returned to Herrnhut with a good name for faith, having laid aside in Stralsund forever his office as counselor at law. In the same year he was received into the clerical profession by Chan cellor Pfaff of Tubingen, with all due formality. But in order that the members of the Moravian Brotherhood who should be sent as missionaries to the heathen might be able to admin ister baptism and the Lord's Supper, some further measures had to be devised. These people were chiefly unlearned mechanics, and could not pass a theological examination like Zinzendorf; there was therefore no hope that any Lutheran consistory would ordain them as clergymen, and hence the necessity of some other method. Now an old Moravian cus tom proved of very valuable assistance to them. The Mo ravian Brethren had, for a long time, bishops, who could con secrate those who were worthy of the clerical office by the laying-on of hands, and all that was now needed was to find a worthy bishop who could consecrate as clergymen those who were deserving and capable. There had lived in Berlin, since the time of the earlier Moravian emigration, the Chief Court-Preacher Jablonsky, then the eldest of the Moravian bishops. Zinzendorf applied to this man, and recommended to him David Nitschmann, — one of the most active of the society, and who had already proclaimed the gospel to the negroes in the West Indies, — with the request to consecrate him to the episcopal office by the laying-on of hands. This was done by Jablonsky with the greatest willingness. We shall pass over the larger and smaller journeys which1 Zinzendorf undertook for the further prosecution of his work ; the associations that he formed in Northern and Southern Ger many, Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden, and Holland; the opposi tion that he met with ; the humiliations that he suffered, and the 1 The Superintendent Langemack, of Stralsund, told him that he was .going to publish a work against Zinzendorf; yet he did not know that it was the man before him against whom his book was directed. ZINZENDORF'S BANISHMENT AND FURTHER LABORS. 411 conversions of which he was the instrument ; and shall mention merely the chief events of his life. Here belongs the Edict of the Saxon King, Augustus of Poland, of the 20th of March, 1736, which Zinzendorf first saw in Cassel, on his return from his travels. It was brief: he dare not enter Saxony, on account of his false doctrines and dangerous . principles. Zinzendorf received this blow respectfully, without entertaining any bitterness toward the king, whom he never ceased to honor as his rightful sovereign. He now had to look out for a new home. This was afforded him in the Wetterau, where he occupied the Rouneburg, a dilapidated castle of the Count of Isenburg. His wife, his friend Von Wattewill, Christian David, and some other brethren, also went thither. Here, as in Herrnhut, congregations of pious people were convened and new friendships formed; and thus was the seed of the new doctrine driven still farther by the storm that had burst over it in Saxony, in order to produce similar plants in the neigh borhood of the Rhine. However, Zinzendorf did not long remain there. He went eastward as far as Livonia. The new colony of the Salz burgers in Lithuania, of which we spoke in the first lectures, attracted his special attention. He would willingly have settled among these simple men; and when in Memel, he addressed a memorial to King Frederick William I., in which he im plored him "to receive him into the Salzburg nursery as an unworthy but faithful workman." He took the- same occasion to present to the king a more favorable account of the Mo ravian community than had been circulated by report. But writing was not all that he did. Zinzendorf was personally introduced to the king in Wursterhausen. The latter, as he himself expressed it in his original way, had believed that "Zinzendorf must be a happy or melancholy fanatic, a semi- ridiculous and semi-dangerous person." But the interview with him soon taught him otherwise, so that he announced to his court, "that he had been purposely lied to and de ceived concerning the count, who was neither a heretic nor a civil offender, but whose only sin was that, being a count, and of high position in the world, he had dedicated himself 412 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. i wholly to the preaching of the gospel; in short, that the devil in hell could not be lied about more outrageously than Zinzendorfs enemies had lied about him." The king's favor was so far advantageous to Zinzendorf that the latter, Uke Nitschmann, could be consecrated to the episcopal office by Jablonsky as soon as Provosts Roloff and Reinbeck had be come satisfied of his orthodoxy. His formal ordination to the episcopacy took place a year later. Meanwhile, Zinzen dorfs wUe and friends were compelled to leave Ronneburg Castle and take refuge in Frankfort-on-the-Main, where the proscribed man could again meet them. He commenced to preach bere as in other cities ; and here too, as ever before, the doctrine of the atonement, or, in his own words, "the grace estabhshed in the blood of the Lamb of God, with which no one can mingle a vestige of his own goodness," constituted the only burden of his sermons. Many people took exception at his assertion, that the most pious citizens in Frankfort could not be saved in any other way than the city-burglar who was broken upon the wheel. About the end of the year 1736, the society held its first synod at the Castle of Marienborn, near Frankfort, where many breth ren from Herrnhut and other places convened. Zinzendorf afterwards commenced an extensive journey through Holland and England, and, after being ordained bishop in Berlin, he received permission from the Saxon king to return to his own country. He then, saw his Herrnhut again ; but it was only for a short time, since his refusal to subscribe to an agree ment which compromised his principles, and still more his honor, caused him to be banished again. His banishment first had the appearance of being voluntary, but was soon afterwards announced by an edict. He went again to Berlin, and there delivered public lectures in a private house twice, and after ward four times, a week. The attendance of prominent people was so large that at one time forty-two carriages stood be fore his house. In 1739, after again visiting his society of pilgrims at Marienborn, he commenced his voyage to the West Indies, in order to visit the islands of St. Thomas and St. Croix, where the Moravian Brethren had already estab- ZINZENDORF'S TRAVELS AND GENERAL PLAN. 413 lished missions. Zinzendorf, found everything in a sad state in St. Thomas. Those who had preached the gospel to the negro slaves there had lain in prison three months, because they would ,not clear themselves by oath from a suspicion cast upon them by their enemies. Zinzendorf immediately appUed to the Danish Governor for the release of the cap tives, and it was granted. But when the count began to speak to the negroes in the Creole dialect, the planters ex cited a general tumult. They drove the negroes violently, apart by shooting and whipping them, and treated them in humanly in every way. Zinzendorf preferred charges in Copenhagen against this conduct, and soon returned to Europe, attended by Da Costa, a Portuguese Jew. He then made a journey to Wurtemberg and Switzerland for the benefit of his health. From Basle he wrote a letter to a friend on the 28th of January, 1740, which gives us a view of his plan, and his mode of thinking and act ing: "It is now some thirty odd years since I experienced from the preaching of the cross, the first penetrating influences of divine grace. . . . Yet in all that I have taught "and done, I have acted for the sake of Jesus, and in no way for my own interest; for it was not my natural temperament to wish to be known in connection with the cause of Jesus. I loved horses and grandeur, and I naturally enjoyed communion with Xenophon, Brutus, and Seneca. I was also thus inclined by the example of my parents, and more remote ancestors, as well as by my training; but I knew well that I could not indulge in such grandeur consistently with the doctrine of Jesus; so I made tha't a willing offering to Jesus. I was led slowly and in perplexity, being controlled by the example of the saints1 and not by principle. ... As for my general plan, I have none, but I go to the Savior from year to year, and do my duty willingly. I have sometimes had a special plan for a year or two, and so far as such a special plan is concerned, it 'is my purpose to preserve the Moravian Church (which arose without me) to the Savior, so that, during my life-time, and as long thereafter as possible, no wolf can disturb it; to seek out as many heathen nations as possible, and to see 414 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. whether they may not participate in the blood that was shed for all the world; to carry out as far as I can, by divine grace, the Savior's dying testament (John xvii.), in order that God's scattered children may everywhere come together in' due order, — that they may be bodily united, not in the Moravian Church (for this I am very much opposed to), but , in the general bond of communion; to bring as many souls as I can to repentance and grace, — for which reason I have loved the pulpit so dearly, and have traveled two hundred miles at once to preach; and to unite all the children of God, even the widely dispersed. I have prosecuted this plan from 1717 to 1739, yet must now leave it to God, because I can not witness its consummation, but, on the contrary, begin to notice a mystery of divine providence." The following year Zinzendorf visited Switzerland once more, and, at this time, Geneva. But he was now meditating a jour ney to North America, which he commenced in September; 1741, being attended by his daughter, who was sixteen years of age. He found a colony of the Brethren akeady in pro gress on the Delaware River, from which the Moravian settle ments of Nazareth and Bethlehem afterward sprang up. Here, in the land of freedom, he laid aside his title of "Count" before many witnesses, among whom was Benjamin Franklin; and having adopted the name of Thiirnstein for his stay in America, he was generally called "Brother Lewis," or "Friend Lewis." The many sects in North America afforded numer ous points of affiliation for the labors of Zinzendorf, but," on the other hand, they presented many difficulties. He first directed his attention toward the Lutherans, whom he brought into ecclesiastical organization; but he also preached to the Reformed. He could not succeed so well with the rigid Pu ritans. As a remarkable illustration of their extreme intoler ance, because Zinzendorf transcribed on Sunday a hymn that he had composed, he was arrested by the constable, and made to pay a fine as a sabbath-breaker. After he had undertaken his journey into the interior, to preach the gospel to the Indian tribes, — where he was once in danger of losing his life, but on another occasion was ZINZENDORF'S DEATH. 415 presented, as a sign of peace, with a wampum-belt, — he re turned to England, and thence to the Continent. Not yet weary of traveling, Zinzendorf now directed his attention to Livonia and Russia, but was forbidden an entrance into the , latter country, since his wife had there acquired the bad reputa tion of being the founder of a sect. He was arrested in Riga. The Empress Elizabeth, to whom he applied, gave him the curt reply, that "he must leave the imperial land, — the sooner the better;", and as he had urgently solicited an inquiry into the. false reports diligently circulated against him, she said, that she "did not find it necessary to make an inquiry." Then he was brought over the frontier by a military escort, after which he stayed some time in Silesia, where Moravian societies arose. We wUl not delay to recount the different journeys of Zinzen dorf; the internal arrangements and institutions that he organ ized in the societies ; the increasing opposition he encountered both at home and abroad, to which belongs especially the spread of the Society of Herrnhag, in the Wetterau (1750); and the numberless writings which he published, and which appeared for and against him. We need only say, that the sentence of banishment from Saxony pronounced upon him in 1747 was withdrawn; that he made a long stay in England, from 1751 tj 1755, where he succeeded in getting Parliament to recog nize the Moravian Church; that, after having lost his son Renatus, and soon afterwards his wife, he married in 1757 Anna Nitschmann, who had long been a friend and a helper; and that, finally, he died on the 9th of May, 1760, at Herrn hut, on the day when the watchword of the Brotherhood was: " He will bring forth a joyful harvest with praise and thanks giving." A severe attack of catarrh had disabled his tongue; but he could faintly give his son-in-law, John von WattewiU, the son of his old friend, the assurance: "My dear son, I shah now die. I am in perfect union with my Lord. He is content with me. I am ready to go to him,— nothing stands in my way." As he closed his eyes, Von WattewiU spoke these words: "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,—" and with the word "peace," Zinzendorf drew his last 416 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. breath. As was usual at every death 4n the Moravian com munity, his departure was proclaimed by the sound of the , trumpet. The whole society was convened in the afternoon in the chapel, and on bended knees they thanked the Savior , for the grace that he had effected through the labors of the deceased. On the following day, the corpse, which was clad in a white robe, as is customary with the Moravian bishops, was placed in a violet-colored coffin, and was viewed by the whole society in procession, the children taking the lead. The burial occurred on the 16th of May, eight days after his death. Twenty-one hundred attendants of the body, with two thousand strangers, followed the coffin in strict order and com posure; thirty-two preachers and missionaries, some of whom were present in Herrnhut from Holland, England, North America, and Greenland, bore the coffin in rotation, and the whole community sang: "How blessed is thy sleep I How sweetly dost thou dream 1" The burial occurred on the Hutberg, the cemetery of the Moravians. Subsequently, a tombstone was placed at his grave, with this inscription: "Here rest the bones of that ever-memorable man of God, Nicholas Lewis, Count and Pro prietor of Zinzendorf and Pottendorf, who, by God's grace, and his faithful and unwearied service, was the worthy founder, in this eighteenth century, of the revived community of United Brethren. He was born in Dresden on the 26th of May, 1700, and entered into the joy of his Lord at Herrnhut, on the 9th of May, 1760. He was appointed to bring forth fruit, — and it is a fruit which remains." At his left side lay his first wife; and his second was soon entombed at his right, for she followed him to the grave in the same month. Zinzendorf had six sons and six daughters by his first wife, though but three daughters survived him, and these were supported until death, with sympathetic love, by the brethren. He died without any means. "I sought," he could say of himself with a good conscience, "among my brethren and sisters, not yours, but you; for the children should not col- ZINZENDORF'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE AND CHARACTER. 417 lact treasures for their parents, but parents for their children. No one can say that I have made myself rich. For many years I .haye not been worth a hundred thalers at one time." Zinzendorf was tall in person, and slender in youth but corpu lent in later years. His manner and carriage were unre strained, and indicated the nobleman. He assured those who called him a hypocrite (Kopf hanger, head-hanger), that "he always carried his head erect between his two shoulders!" Ilis features were regular; beneath a high forehead there shone small blue eyes, full of dark fire and mild friendUness ; his nose was moderately Roman, and the mouth, which is badly represented in most portraits, had, when the lips were closed, an expression of refinement, dignity and kindness, combined with seriousness. "He had," says Schrautenbach, "a manly, pleasant, full-toned voice, adapted to the most perfect expression, as well in speaking as in singing. He had by nature the difficult art, or rather the rare gift, of speaking with great effect, of giving due emphasis, of speaking every passage in its appropriate way, and of employing such an expression of countenance, tone of voice, and gesticulation, as were perfectly spontaneous and made a profound impression. Life, soul, and harmony, marked aU that he did. If he con secrated a bishop, or conducted an ordination, and raised his hand to invoke the blessing of the Lord and of the church upon a man, a movement pervaded the congregation. ... His countenance was particularly impressive in Uturgies, . . . espe ciaUy in the dispensation of the sacraments. His appearance was majestic, noble, Ml of strength, and marked in the midst of others. This was very clear to all who, on seeing him enter the society of prominent people, or walk quietly along the streets of a city like London or Amsterdam, observed the conduct of others toward him,— how they bowed their head, and drew aside, and paid him every respect. He was always dressed very simply and naturally. He lodged plainly in his 'house, taking no regard to his furniture, and never sought enjoyment in anything beyond him, or attached any worth whatever to, small matters. In all that concerned his person, such as clothing, food, and the like, he had few necessities. 418 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. He was peculiar in everything except himself, and in this respect unchangeable. .... In conversation, he was pleasant, attractive, and very entertaining. He was a lover of sports and innocent amusement, even though he himself was the subject of jest. But no one was familiar with him. ... In mat ters connected with his office, however, he never assumed, either from character or feeling, a despotic tone, or con ducted himself as proprietor of the matter. He could some times chide, and it may be that his physical system occa sionally required such an explosion; but he never used ex pressions that were insulting, or unworthy of him. ... As for his scientific attainments, he was one of the number who owe most to themselves. He read but little, chiefly the Bible, and in the last twenty years no other religious book. He wrote much and meditated much. . . . His writings and discourses are not labored, for his spirit was too lively to dwell long upon one subject; they were rather essays, or con versations. . . . The deeds of a man who thought much, wrote, spoke, sang, organized, established plans among men, united distant places, and leaving everything in a youthful state and much that was unfinished, are like looking at a great and newly-built city as it rises from the waters, with here a palace and there an humble cottage. It is a large and general picture, which cannot be studied in single parts, but only in the harmony and composition of the whole." Thus far Schrautenbach. For the present, we will add nothing to his picture, for it is often well that the portrait of a man should have time to impress itself upon the soul, and stand before our gaze, previous to passing criticism upon it. Especially is this necessary with such men as Zinzendorf, con cerning whom opinions are so divided, and have been divided, from the beginning. On looking over the field which he left behind at his death, — sowed, as it was, with the seeds of his doctrine, — we find that his ideas had spread to Norway, Greenland, Lap land, Ethiopia, Guinea, the Hottentots, Russia, Persia, Pales tine, a number of points in North and South America, and the West India Islands. To these places, messengers of the THE PRINCIPAL MORAVIAN SOCIETIES. 419 gospel were sent, who worked with Zinzendorf s spirit for the glory of the Savior for whom he lived. The names of the prin cipal societies are well known : Barby, Niesky, Gnadau, Gnaden- frei, Gnadenfeld, Christiansfeld, Konigsfeld, Neuwied, Neu- dietendorf, Ebersdorf, etc. We shall have something to say, in the next lecture, on the reception which the Moravian Brethren met with in Switzerland, and especially in Basle. The approaching Easter will afford us an intermission which ought to be only beneficial at the present stage of these studies. From the disciples, — some of whom strove to follow their master in this way, and others in that, — we shall turn our eyes to Him who is the Master of us all, to announce whom, as the Lamb of God and the Savior of the world, Zinzendorf felt himself called. That picture which impressed itself on the soul of the young man in the gallery at Diissel dorf, is now placed in turn before us; and let us look away from all other pictures which would attract and dissipate the attention. Let us receive this picture seriously and worthily into our hearts, without offence and affectation, but simply, just as the Scriptures present it to us,— as the picture of the exalted Son of man. Let us strengthen ourselves anew by the contemplation of his sufferings and death; let us rise with him above the darkness of the grave to the joyous hope of the resurrection; and then shall we be able, when the one has become our all, more easily, in spite of varying views and opinions on minor matters, to pass our opinion upon those who, with us, have recognized Him as the Prince of Life and the ground of their hopes. LECTURE XIX. zinzendorf more closely examined and judged; his character; his theology. — bengel as an opponent. — spangenberg's idea fidei fratrum. — zinzendorf's lib eral views on the scriptures. — the hymns of the moravian brethren. — zinzendorf as the founder of a church. — the importance of the moravian brethren in their times. — societies. — moravians in switzerland, and particularly in basle. — a sentiment of schleier- MACHER. From the outset, a great variety of opinions has been pronounced on both Zinzendorf and the Moravian Brotherhood, whose history we have treated in outline in the last lecture. It was not merely people of the world, nor so-called unbe lievers, who stumbled at the count himself, his doctrine, and his arrangements; neither was it alone the orthodox, who were petrified in dead formality. But learned and pious men, — among whom I may mention Bengel first, already known to us, — found much in him, his doctrine, and the Brother hood, at which they took exception. Indeed, the Brethren themselves were not always contented with everything that their superintendent did, yet they acceded to everything that took place in the societies and proceeded therefrom; so that it is well to notice that the opinion concerning Zinzendorf himself is not always in harmony or contrast with that whicli is passed upon his cause, though the society really bears the general im press of its founder, and the two cannot easily be separated. Beginning with him as a man, we presented his picture in the previous lecture as his contemporaries (particularly Schrau- ZINZENDORF'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF. 421 tenbach) painted it for us. They did not regard him free from error, and least of all did he so regard himself. He has described himself in his Natural Reflections, in the year 1742, and has presented the following testimony concerning himself: " From childhood I have had no other aim than fully to glorify Jesus Christ the Crucified, without ever entering upon discussions related to special forms of religion. I know no other ground than Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, but I can tolerate all who believe upon him, though in different ways. ... I am very simple and reverential before God, and love all men,— for I have no enemy, and do not seek to advance my own interests, but Jesus and the Brethren. I am cordial and very confiding toward the Brethren. I am very much inclined to reprove myself, and, on account of my free manner of speaking, uncertain what and when I should speak, yet always sure of speaking with toy whole heart. In matters of opinion I am altogether indif ferent, and in matters of faith I am very tolerant; but in life I am serious and intolerant, and, in the doctrine of the divine humanity of Jesus Christ, very sectarian and unchangeable. In reUgious matters I am the friend of every sect, name, and order ; and in the Brotherhood, the great friend of fraternal communion, order, and discipline, though without applying them to other communities. I do not estabUsh visibly great churches, but many visible Uttle churches. Those who sepa rate from the great church are vUlains ; and those who sepa rate from smaller societies where they Uve are selfish and angry, or they are coxcombs. It is the wish of my heart to conduct the Moravian Brotherhood on the freest, simplest, and most orderly footing, in aU quiet, and as the smallest of their number,— for I despise all mastery among brethren, Everything else that is said, is reproach or falsehood. The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ knows that I do not lie." " I have only one passion," says he in another place, "and it is He,— Only He!" But at the same time, Zinzendorf likewise says as sincerely, that his "mind Was often inclined to extravagancies;" and even his friend Schrautenbach, who begins his Biography with these words: "Count Zinzendorf Vol. I.— 28 422 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. was not a man without errors," often confesses that the fire of his genius, and his brilliant imagination, sometimes led him too far. Schrautenbach distinguishes several periods, in Zinzendorf s Ufe. "In his early youth he had to give way to others. Afterward, in a space of about fifteen years (1727 — 1742), we find, as far as we can learn, that he preserved through out a patient, contented spirit. From 1743 to 1755 we ob serve a very agitated frame of mind, which took a more systematic and matter-of-fact shape in his later years, from 1755 to 1760, by his trials and other experiences. By his own example he bore- witness of the great principle which he elevated above all others, — that no one is good except the only God. But he has also shown in himself the power which a man's system, when heartily conceived, has over the man himself and all his actions. We mean the reformed will, the changed heart, or, as we must here term it, Ufe in the faith of the Son of God." No impartial person can any longer doubt that Zinzendorf was serious in his undertaking. Who can judge how far human weakness influenced him? Herder, in his Adrastea, appeals to the Eternal Judge. But while we acknowledge the noble tendency of his nature, and the piety and purity of his views; and whUe we regard and honor his appearance as a beneficial necessity of the times, the task still devolves upon us, — after the waves of passion have subsided, and the bow of peace has spanned the sky, — of subjecting his doc trines and deeds to the impartial judgment of history. In order to do this, however, we must ask what he wished him self? Herder says: "He did not design a reformation of the world, but, as he denominated it, a preservation of the souls attached to the Savior, and their union in anticipation of his second coming. And this union he accomplished." We here perceive his chief service : that, at a time when so many scat tered, he gathered; and that when so many hearts were cold, he kindled and kept alive the glow of religious feeling. Zinzendorf was not a dogmatist or theorist,, but practical and organizing, — and here we find his chief strength. He ZINZENDORF'S DOCTRINES. 423 was unpractical in external things,— for he was always buried in his thoughts, and therefore inattentive to what was going on about him. So much was this the case that he often lost his way, and could not properly count money, and was forgetful in other matters. Yet he was thoroughly practical hi all that con cerned reUgious life and its phenomena; and this practical skill was exhibited in the most of his regulations. Zinzen dorf s System of Doctrines, and his favorite theological ideas and expressions, are not the cause of his greatness, but, on the contrary, have contributed to make his name ridiculous before the world and objectionable to the orthodox. They did not even constitute a permanent portion of his labors. However, our task requires us to portray his doctrines, as they have become more or less those of the Moravian church. We wiU wUUngly pass over the prejudiced and passionate attacks made upon these doctrines from different quarters, and only mention, as an example of passion, that many persons accused the count of atheism, while others saw all the possible heresies in the world concentrated in him. From the great number of his opponents we select the most worthy, and aUow him to speak even where his censure is the strongest. We mean Bengel.1 What we may add shall be only introductory and conciUatory, while we must concede to that writer that he had himself pondered carefully the reasons with which he, a prudent and worthy man, sustained his assertions. We need to take only a superficial view of the doctrines of Zinzendorf to be convinced that Christ crucified constitutes their central point and chief import. Viewed in this general aspect, no one can say anything against his doctrines; for it must be confessed that they are those of the apostles and the evangeUcal Protestant church. On further thought, a higher guidance can herein be recognized, — that, at the time when Voltaire undertook to uproot the memory of Christ from the earth, and to cover him with disgrace, a man arose, who, although his circumstances would have enabled 1 See his Abrias der sogenannten Brudergemeinde. 1751. 2 Parts, with Appendix. 424 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. him to live in the enjoyment of aU temporal pleasures, yet gave up everything, and avoided no shame or derision, in order, as he himself says, "to enthrone the Lamb of God, and to entroduce the catholicity of the doctrine of his passion as a universal theology in theory and practice." But on looking more closely at Zinzendorf s views of Christ and his sufferings, and on particularly examining his expressions, we cannot be surprised that he caused scoffing unbelievers to be repelled rather than attracted, and that even rigid be- Uevers like Bengel considered themselves bound to take serious grounds against him. As it has often happened that those who would maintain the truth against error often carry their arguments so far that they fall into some error them selves, so did it occur in the present case. The doctrine of Christ as God-man and Savior had already been thrown into the shade by the Socinians, and afterwards by the Deists and naturalists, — the latter class even regarding it as a rem nant of antiquated prejudices. Even that milder type of ration alistic theology which began to appear in Zinzendorfs time, but subsequently developed to the degree that we have al ready described, permitted the preaching of Christ's person and sacrificial work to yield to mere morality, and his divinity to give place to his humanity. And the view that faith in God the Father, as the Creator and Preserver' of all things, combined with a virtuous life in fuU prospect of a future reward, constitutes the essence of all religion, and that every thing else belongs rather to those things which change with the times, extended more and more through the century, and gained ascendancy over many noble and excellent persons. Zinzendorf obstinately opposed this growing opinion of the century; but he confronted the one-sided doctrine of the one God-Father, to whom many hoped to be able to come without the Son, by his equally one-sided doctrine of the Son, whom he undeniable substituted to a certain extent for the Father. While the Holy Scriptures lead us through the Son to the Father, they yet term him theFather, the Creator of heaven and earth, present him as the author of our salvation from eternity, and enjoin us to pray to. him through Christ and in Christ's name. But Zinzen- ZINZENDORF'S ONE-SIDED VIEW OF CHRIST. 425 dorf, if we may judge from the most of his expressions, seems to acknowledge no other God than the Savior, as he loved most to call him, and as he represented him altogether per sonally as the human God of his imagination. To Zinzen- dorfs heart this divine-human Savior was, indeed, far more than what the cold rationalistic and philosophical religion understood by its God-Father, who withdrew himself too much behind the abstract idea of a Supreme Being, as the sun be hind a cold cloud. But yet it is very remarkable that Zin zendorf not only bluntly regarded the Savior as Creator, and at the same time ignored God the Father, but even expressed himself very decidedly against the "God-Father religion," which was at that time believed by many pious men, of whom we may mention GeUert as one. He not only called it " preach ing from the house-tops," designed merely for the great crowd, but, in a discourse deUvered in Herrnhag, which Tholuck adduces as a proof of his extravagant doctrine, he says ex pressly: "We are here as a congregation, a synagogue of the Savior, our special Father; for God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, is not our direct Father; this is a false doc trine, and one of the great errors that prevail in Christendom. What we caU in this world a grandfather, or a father-in-law, is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ."1 In another sermon he calls the preachers of God the Father the "Professors of Satan." In this, and in his frequent as sertion that the Holy Spirit is to be regarded as the God- Mother with the God-Father, whUe to him Christ is ever called "The Man," he certainly erred in his view of the re ceived doctrine of the trinity of the divine persons, as weU as of the doctrine of a Mediator between God and man,— for such expressions were neither Scriptural nor ecclesiastic ally orthodox. Bengel opposed them with very severe cen sure. He showed how the doctrine of God the Father, as the omnipotent Creator of heaven and earth, is the truly Scriptural doctrine, as it constitutes the first article of our confession of faith, which every one knows who is acquainted with the catechism. It cannot be properly said that Zinzen- » Termischte Schriften, Vol. I. p. 442, 426 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. dorf denied the Father's participation in the work of creation, — that he only looked at it.1 Bengel says very naively: " We must not leap over the Son, nor over the Father ; and if Zinzendorf supposes that they are hostile' to the Savior who would not substitute him for the Father, he can be charged just as properly with enmity to God the Father, which, indeed, would be doing him injustice."2 With this defective view of the Son, Zinzendorf connected another: the excessive prominence of the sacrificial merit of Christ. Here, too, it was chiefly a deep religious necessity which had drawn the count from his youth to Christ, the suffering Savior. And there was something truly grand and sacred in this hearty, tender, and absorbing . love for the Crucified, — in this one passion, which mastered him from childhood to the last breath of his life. Bengel here fully harmonized with Zinzendorf, for he too acknowledged no other ground of salvation than Christ crucified, and he confessed, in his own words, adherence to the "old Lutheran blood- theology." But Zinzendorf s exclusive aceeptation of this blood- theology; his making it, not the center, but the only and exclusive import of Christianity, and his so making all other doctrines merely accessory to it as to depreciate them, were as unacceptable to a thoughtful mind like Bengel as was that effeminate and sensuous tone in which Zinzendorf and his adherents used to speak and sing concerning the sufferings of Christ, and particularly the special sensuous objects con nected with them, — his blood, his wounds, the prints of the nafls, the wound in his side, and the like. It could not escape Bengel, with his serious study of the Scriptures, that the sufferings of Christ are ever intimately united with the life and doctrines of Christ on the one hand, and with his resurrection and glorification on the other; and, in this connection, the doctrine of the cross possessed to him its true value and significance. Bengel nowhere found in the words of Jesus and .the apostolic writings that effemi nate, figurative, and sensuously picturesque style of speech; and he therefore desired the same purity of language in those » Abriss, Vol. I. p. 75. s Ibid., p. 119. BENGEL ON ZINZENDORF'S DOCTRINES. 427 who, in our time, would preach the doctrine of the cross im pressively and successfully. Bengel, therefore, blamed Zinzen dorf for giving too much play to his imagination in describing the stages of Christ's passion, and, to speak with Luther, for making the armor of evangelical doctrine, — which was re garded by him, too, as the doctrine of the cross, — a smooth mirror, in which the imagination could look at itself com- plaisantly, while it indulged in new and labored forms and applications of language.1 He blamed Zinzendorf for over looking everything that had occurred before and after the passion of Christ; and, instead of regarding Christ as the Mediator between God and man, as the Scriptures teach, for placing improper stress on the expression : " Thy Creator has suffered for thee." Finally, Bengel justly believed that the sensuous emotions which the contemplation of Christ's sufferings calls forth, and the tears shed in consequence of them, were not an infallible sign of penitence; he feared that, by these means, Christians would fall into a false security, and would be impeded in their path to true conversion. "Whoever is acquainted with the working of the human spirit," says Bengel, " cannot possibly find it weU, in his thoughts and expressions, to separate from the whole treasure of saving doctrine a single article for the continual meditation of either himself or others. There is a needless repetition, an empty, feeble prating, which may occur in word and thought ; and with an arbitrary and exaggerated blood-devotion, one might sink into mere nature. ... If an individual should take from a watch a little part which does not itseU indicate the hour, and which seems to him to be dispensable, and should lay it aside, the hand itself would be of no use. He who separates the parts destroys the whole. To cut up is to destroy. . . . The mere hearing and speaking of the wounds of Jesus can only end in empty words. There are people who only name Christ, and do not know him. . . . Indeed, they who always present the precious doctrine of sacrifice with unmitigated affectation degrade it without knowing it, and cannot guard against great and » Abriss, Vol. I. p. 85. 428 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. varied abuse. While they derive from the contemplation of Christ's wounds, without regard to the law, a universal method of conduct, they act as much as they can like unskillful em pirics, making of the precious blood of Christ an opiate by which to bring their own conscience and that of others to distinguish between right and wrong."1 Bengel says further: " Through the supremacy which the Moravian doctrine con cedes to the sensuous imagination, the Scriptures are made, to pervert themselves, the cross is nullified under the pre text of the cross, the heart is misled by the pretence of the heart, freedom is captured under the name of freedom, and emotion is killed under the color of feeling."2 Bengel complains of the ethical system of the Moravians that it is limited to an unsafe indulgence of the feelings, by which means the doctrine of what we should do and leave undone becomes partially weakened, and partially exaggerated, and again weakened by excess. It is exaggerated when Zinzendorf utterly rejects fear, and when he places all moraUty in the contemplation of the Savior and his humanity. Bengel found chief fault with the extravagant figures by which the relation of the soul to Christ is portrayed as that of a bride to the bridegroom. " The flesh has privately a richer food than any child of the world, however complete and powerful, could desire." "In the daily intercourse of men it is not refined for those who are even neighbors, and of the same age and condition, to act familiarly, without regard to politeness; famiharity easily degenerates into coarseness ; how much more must they have been displeased at such speeches who entertain a re spect for infinite majesty!"3 These charges of Bengel relate chiefly to the later dis courses of Zinzendorf.4 Bengel himself confesses that the count's early style was pleasant, temperate, serious, and smooth; but that in his later discourses, his mutilated ex cellencies are glossed and weakened by much foreign drapery. " The mixture of good and evil," he continues, " is very great in the Moravian Brethren; and hence very many of them, 1 Abriss, Vol. II. p. 123 f. * Ibid., p. 324. • Ibid., Vol. I. pp. 147^-150. * Ibid., pp. 146, 161. SPANGENBERG'S DDEA FIDEI FRATRUM. 429 instead of possessing a temperate sentiment, are so inflated that they are not able to reach the height pictured before them; and in the Scriptural compendiums, and even in the Bible itself, nothing seems good enough for them, so that in their excess of feeling they forget the difference between faith and sight. Those who have been intimately acquainted with evangeUcal doctrine can distinguish the sound from the un sound. But who will do this service for poor unsettled souls ? It is safer for all to adhere solely to the Holy Scriptures. . . . The Moravians are not destitute of fidelity to the Savior, and he will support those powerfully who remain true to him; . . . but it will not come to pass that the whole credit of true Christianity, and the glory of being true to Christ Jesus and even to his disciples, will be given to the Moravian Brethren." Thus far Bengel speaks concerning the doctrines of Zinzen dorf, and certainly every impartial person must admit that the Umit which Bengel thought necessary to assign to an ex cessive imagination and the dogmatics of feeling was a healthy one. Those who were well-disposed toward the count and the Moravian Brotherhood must have been thankful, — if they desired its real weUare, — for the warnings which opportunely came from such a respectable source. Zinzendorf is said to have been much impressed by Bengel's reference to those errors to which his doctrine of the Trinity would lead, and to have guarded against exaggerated expressions afterward. And it must be regarded fortunate that it was not Zinzen dorf, who was not versed in doctrinal theology, but the more prudent Spangenberg, who undertook, in his Idea Fidei Frat- rum, to lay down the doctrinal system of the Moravians. This work is a doctrinal compendium so simply Biblical, and so far removed from all enthusiasm and everything objection able, that, with few exceptions, every one must coincide with it who wUl grant that the Holy Scriptures are the rule of our faith. We do not mean that Spangenberg depreciated or weakened the doctrine of Christ as the Son of God, or of his sufferings and death; but that here they appear with a strength which was rare in other doctrinal works of the pe riod. Everything here is scripturally sustained, and clad in 430 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. chaste and temperate language, so that one can actually ex claim with Herder in his Adrastea: "What a leap is it from the theology of the count, as it is contained here and there in his discourses and hymns, to Spangenberg's Idea Fidei Fratrum!" But Zinzendorf was not extreme in all portions of his doc trinal system. On the contrary, he exhibited in other points great sobriety and impartiality. He had very sound, simple, and temperate views on the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures. They were to him, as to all true Protestants, the sufficient source and safe rule of Christian knowledge. "The Script ures," he said to the Moravian Synod at Marienborn, Decem ber, 1740, "will ever remain the great oracle on which the last decision will depend. He who does not believe the Bible because of his own subtleties, does not possess the Holy Spirit. We must not place even the best of our human writings be side the Bible. Indeed, the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament are works so absolutely divine that in them everything can be found so sufficient and perfect for a man who would be saved that one need not wait for the coming of Christ, or expect that anything more or different can be estabhshed or needed." But he was far from thinking that every letter of the Bible is inspired. "He did not maintain" says Schrauten bach, "that historical and chronological errors cannot be in the Scriptures. He did not teach a verbal inspiration. But his whole system, — after an unwearied examination of its truths, — rests upon the Bible as the divine revelation con taining the whole counsel of the Savior of men." Let us listen to Zinzendorf himself on this point: "As for the style of the Scriptures, it is sometimes as if a carpenter is speak ing, or a fisherman, or a man who has come from the custom house; now a man learned in cabalistic lore, now a king, and now a man trained at court, speaks; these, and aU human. distinctions, can be frequently found. My lofty regard for the apostles is not diminished when I remember that they wrote very bad Greek, and made use of both Hebraisms and Syriacisms. I believe that our Savior himself may have THE MORAVIAN CHURCH AND BENGEL'S CACULATIONS. 431 spoken very common language, and probably made use of such phrases as the peasants employed, — behind which we now seek a very different meaning, for we do not know the idioms of the mechanics of Nazareth. The dear apostles made many blunders in chronology ; for they definitely assign ed a near date to the Savior's second coming; and in part were sure that they would live to see it and the overthrow of antichrist. They even positively said so. But these things did not happen, and, according to the true counsel of their Lord (Acts i.), the apostles might very well have spared themselves this inquiry."1 This latter opinion was'not altogether according to Bengel's taste, for he himself had undertaken to fix those times, and, as the result showed, made blunders in his chronology. But I very much doubt whether Bengel took ground against Zin zendorf and his doctrines because the count did not approve of his own chiliastic calculations, — as many have maintained, and even George Miiller among the rest.2 This much is sure: that the rise and importance of the Moravian Church did not comport with Bengel's calculations. Zinzendorf com pared the Brotherhood to the church of Philadelphia in the Apocalypse, while he compared the prevailing church to that of Laodicea, — which Bengel would accept on no account. Let us now look away from this special controversy. But tf we consider most of the particulars which Bengel has other wise adduced against Zinzendorf's doctrinal errors, we must perfectly agree with Herder. Yet we shall conclude, on the other hand, that Bengel, perhaps because he was so con trolled by preconceived opinions, placed too low an estimate on the practical importance of the Moravians and their influence upon the church, and therefore prophesied the immediate end of the latter. But, in this view, he by no means fully ignored what was good in Zinzendorf and the Moravian Brotherhood. He was personally acquainted with the count, -and was on intimate terms with him and a number of the Moravians, and 1 G. Miiller, p. 256. (Appendix to the Translation of the New Testament). * Ibid., p. 233. 432 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. was very unwillingly, induced to criticize them. "By the new Moravian institutions," says Bengel, in hearty praise of that church, " many a soul which lay in heathen darkness has been brought to call upon the name of the Lord, and has there fore been saved. Many Christian hearts, which had been kept either by themselves or by others in a disconsolate state, have been directed to the free and comfortable enjoy ment of the gospel."1 And thus he communicates the wise counsel to lay aside everything objectionable in Zinzendorf as a man, and, on the other hand, to retain everything really beautiful and good, — for, by doing this, many a precious gem may be gathered. Bengel blamed Zinzendorf for raising too high a partition-wall between the understanding and the heart, and for permitting a hvely feeling to take precedence of clearness of knowledge. "How wholesome it would have been," he says, " if both had been always united harmoniously, and people had adhered literally to the Holy Scriptures!"2 We pass over other controversial writings that appeared against Zinzendorf and the Moravians, — and their name was legion, — and only delay at a few single points. Zinzendorf's religious poetry, which has been the chief subject of remark, and has produced much derision, is inti mately connected with what we have said of his doctrinal opinions. We must distinguish properly here. It has already been mentioned that Zinzendorf, from early childhood, exhib ited a taste for the pithy old spiritual songs, and that he possessed a delicately attuned ear and heart, at the time when this sense was becoming dull and superficial. But here, too, Zin zendorf went from one extreme to another. In his view, the old hymns were not sufficiently Christian, and while the Ration alists changed many of them according to their notion, Zinzen dorf and the Moravian Brethren cannot be acquitted of that arbitrary change and perversion of hymns which infected the times like a disease. Zinzendorf's ,ovvn poetical productions are of varied merit. Some do not rise above the low bank of rhythmic prose. ,Their difference from the latter Ues chiefly » Abriss, Vol. II. p. 389 f. 8 Ibid., p. 391. zinzendorf's hymns. 433 in that sentimental and often bombastic tone, which, though devoid of sobriety, is nevertheless not truly lyrical, but is lost, according to J. P. Lange, in the dithyrambic. On the other hand, no one can deny that the count had great facility in composing verses; or hesitate to say, with Herder, that " he possessed that flexibility of language and richness of bold turns and hearty expressions which often surprise and amaze us." Zinzendorf has composed some hymns which it would be unjust to exclude from the church hymn-books; indeed, one would be doing him the highest injustice to do such an act. The Wurtemberg Hymn-Book contains a number com posed by him and his son Renatus. How simple and child like, for example, is that hymn which we too teach our chUdren: "0 Jesus, show the way In which our life to spend; Our feet shall not delay Thy footsteps to attend. Lead us by Thy strong hand, — Lead to the Fatherland I Though we have weary days, May we be ever firm; Give us Thy cheering rays, Our drooping hearts confirm. Though great our sorrows be, The path will lead to Thee. Oh, help each burdened heart, Soothe every piercing pain; Thou only hast the art To break each clanking chain. Oh, keep our vision clear, Our breast from every fear! Order each step we take, Throughout our pilgrimage; O Savior, ne'er forsake, But help at every stage. Then, when our journey's o'er, Throw wide Thy golden door!" 434 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Other hymns might be quoted which have a tender and deep mysticism, as the one beginning: "Before His gaze to stand Is blessedness indeed." There are others in which the soul takes a higher .flight, as those commencing: "Spirit of the Lord, Thou Morning Star!," and "Christians are a holy band." The latter, especially, is marked by a lofty poetic strain: "Christians are a holy band, Gathered by the Savior's hand, For He loves them. His wondrous power He uses, No needed grace refuses, For they are His. The Bridegroom's eye is on them, His rich love their diadem, His blood their priceless gem. Kingly crowns are quite too dim For the chosen ones of Him, The King of all. He has made a mansion fair, Undisturbed by any care, Where they may dwell. Far above the sinner's fate, They may have a blest estate, And Christ's glory cultivate. Before the Savior called us From the broad way dangerous To see His cross, We had done no service meet, His grace to share. We were far from the light Of Bethlehem's star so bright, — We were groping in the night. Journeying toward eternity Is e'er unsafe without Thee, For all is dark. When once Thy hand doth lead us, No danger can surround us, For light is there. THE MORAVIAN HYMNS. 435 Thou art man's door to pardon, Thou hast his victory won, Thou alone art his bright sun. Draw us, 0 Exalted Friend! To our needy cry attend, With heart of love. Lead ns, Thou all-conquering One, Perfect what thou hast begun In me, Thy child. Close to Thee I'd ever stay, For Thy help I'd ever pray, Till I bask in heaven's ray. Here is now my hand and heart! Freely Thou didst take my part When Thou didst die. And Thou didst it all alone,— Thou gavest Thy blood to atone,— To make me Thine. How great is Thy burning love, Which Thou each moment dost prove,— And all to lead me above! Away, all ye crowns of earth! Away, wealth, honor, and mirth! My soul is pledged From Christ nevermore to stray, And to Him commit each way, — Each pilgrim-step. His bonds and his Calvary-shame Shall be my pardon and fame, — Let angels adore his name ! " But the good and substantial qualities, which we willingly recognize,1 shall not deter us from declaring unequivocaUy the insipidity which has crept into many of the Moravian hymns from the earUer Cothen hymns. This insipidity is perceptible in the tawdry references to Christ's wounds, and in the irrelevant application of figures from the Song of Solomon, 1 Zinzendorf, as a poet, has met with a very favorable critic in Knapp, to whom we are indebted for a beautiful edition of the count's religious poems (Stuttgart, 1845). Comp. also Koch, Geschichte des Kirchenliedes, Vol. n. p. 327 ff., and Vol. IV. p. 265. , 436 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. to a degree repulsive to the moral feelings, while the mixture of foreign words and figures makes them altogether unadapted to others than Moravians, and incomprehensible to all except the initiated. However, this is not all attributable to Zinzen dorf, who assigned limits to the most mischievous extrava gancies that threatened to appear among the Moravians during his absence in England; and, as a proof, he suppressed the notorious Appendix to the Hymn-Book of the Brotherhood. Still, it cannot be denied that he and his son Renatus first set it to tune. Nevertheless, the taste of the Moravians has gradually become purer. Few of them would now accept the poetry produced at that time, and while Zinzendorfs doctrinal system was rectified by Spangenberg, it may be said that his better hymns have reappeared in the nineteenth century in the spirited poetry of Garve and Albertini. As for his mix ture of foreign and German words, and the whole of his pe culiar terminology (we might almost say, the Moravian jargon), what Schrautenbach says on the count's sermons is worthy of attention, for it also applies to his hymns, — that "every society which is concentrated within itself creates for itself a peculiar language, and frequently the novelty of expression is indispensable, because it coexists with the interest of the enterprise. Therefore, we listen to his words as they come from the full heart of the man, and sing even his hymns, and those of the Brotherhood in general, with a very different im pression from what we would have if we now read them prosaically. As to the foreign words, his auditors were so accustomed to him that they were not offended at them."1 As we must think of Zinzendorfs sermons as preached and emphasized by him, so must we regard the hymns as sung by the Moravians. "While tunes," says Herder, "seem to be the direct language of the heart, in which all ascend and move in one harmony, so is the hymn properly the watch word of the congregation, which should be a union of souls: and certainly this means of unification has done much, if not the most, toward leading to that salvation which the Mo ravians called the 'peace of heaven.'" INTERNAL ORGANIZATION OF THE MORAVIANS. 437 It is really the hymn, and the Moravian manner of singing it, which, if we were speaking of taste, are far more advan tageous here than the mere text of the hymns read with the cold understanding. Whoever is' famiUar with the repulsive A and coarse screaming which often disturbs rather than aids our pubUc services, and compares with it the quiet, deep, and judicious singing of a Moravian congregation, will soon have to decide on which side the purer taste exists. In general, every one who has the good fortune to visit one of their so cieties will be strangely delighted with the simple, pleasing, and Uvely forms with which the Moravians have surrounded themselves, their places of meeting, and especially their grave yards, as weU as the purity which pervades everything, the order that prevails over all, and the calm, heavenly peace which seems to rest upon their houses and lands. This leads us to consider the constitution and internal or ganization of the Brotherhood, so far as we can here treat them, both in their importance to the church in general and in their relation to Protestantism in particular. As I have already intimated, Zinzendorfs principal strength seems to me to be in his organization of such a community, and not in his doctrinal system, nor in his poetry. I repeat, that it is not Zinzendorf the theologian nor Zinzendorf the poet, who merits our admiration ; for he is far excelled as a theologian by Bengel, and, as a poet, not only by the elder writers but also by later ones, — as Freylinghausen, Tersteegen, Hiller, and others. But it is Zinzendorf the founder of a church, or rather, the collector and manager of a church, who constitutes an - epoch in history. Whoever will glance at the early history of the Moravians, at the varied and contradictory elements that intersect each other, and will then look at the structure which arose in so short a time from these elements of Old Moravian, Lutheran, Reformed, and Pietistic Christianity, and combined them into such a fair, distinct, and strong society, must wonder equally at the skill, the patience, the strength, and the shrewdness of that man. A narrow and prejudiced person, or a dark, confused mind, or a sectarian fanatic, could never have accomplished such Vol. I.— 29 438 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. a work. There was needed a man of tact, acquaintance with the world, refined observation, and knowledge of men. I might almost say, there was needed a man of commanding nature, who would go to his work quietly, in all the simplicity of the dove, though with the wisdom of the serpent; who 'would know how to make himself serviceable to the world, and win souls in all mildness; and who 'would employ every gift in its proper place, and make it subserve his general purpose. It has, been well said, that circumstances cooperate for suc cess ; but to perceive and use circumstances is ever the part of a man of genius and strength. This talent of winning and guiding minds may sometimes be dangerous, as the -whole history of the church and of the hierarchy abundantly proves ; and thus charges have been brought against Zinzendorf, that -be desired to establish a new papacy within the Protestant church. Even Bengel unhesitatingly brought this charge. But every one is exposed to sUch censure who enters ecclesi- .astical life as an organizer and guide. Thus, Luther and -Calvin were called small popes. It depends upon whether the supremacy over minds is usurped, or the result of natural superiority. We must believe Zinzendorf, as an honest man, that he .did not desire to exercise any dominion over the con science, when he tells us: "I despise all mastery among brethren." But if others placed themselves imder his influence more completely than their conscience bade them, it was then- own fault. Luther often warned people against calling them selves Lutherans, and relying too strongly on his words ; and yet this very thing happened. But granted that Zinzendorf was sometimes untrue to his principles, without knowing it, or that hierarchical tendencies arose under his own eye and after his time (which we do not dispute), we must regard it as only a disease which the Brotherhood could eradicate by the sound nourishment that was within it, and by the better spirit of its founder. It seems to be an indisputable fact, that the Moravians had to fight from the beginning against a certain weakness and effeminacy in order to escape undue dependence upon their leaders and superintendents. Thus Bengel laments, MQRAVIANISM AND JESUITISM CONTRASTED. 439 that " so many well-meaning souls are pressed by their leader as a lump of wax between the fingers, permitting themselves to be shaped info all desired forms."1 Comparisons have been instituted between the Moravian Brotherhood in the Protestant church and the orders in the CathoUc church. Even the Jesuits have been brought forward for comparison, and not without some show of propriety. And, in fact, who ever looks only at the outward forms, the mechanism of social order, the reciprocity of command and obedience, and the incalculable influence which the spirit of inward religious fraternity has ever been able to exercise, with the geograph ical territory which it has won, Can be easUy attracted to such parallels. But whoever returns to principles, and looks down to the bottom of things, will easily perceive the radical difference between CathoUcism and Protestantism in the two tases, and wiU soon be convinced that Jesuitism and the Moravian Brotherhood, instead of having a common object in view, are working toward opposite poles. This is nowhere more apparent than in the department of missions, where the Jesuitical and Moravian methods of action are found in strongest contrast. Zinzendorf himseU was a decided op- ponent of the Jesuits, and of all Jesuitical and Romish tend encies. He observed this course toward the Jansenists in the period of his excited youth, and could not excuse Cardinal NoaUles for weakly yielding in the great battle against that powerful order. We can therefore see the folly of the common cry, that "the way to Rome is through Herrnhut." So far as "all paths lead to Rome," according to the old proverb, it may be true that an occasional one has been by this circuituous route; but how many have been led by the same path into different and opposite directions! But is it not true that the Moravian societies have gen erally assumed a eloister-Uke character in their economy? Indeed, it is a fact that, to many a soul, retirement into the Brotherhood has been what retirement into a cloister has been to CathoUcs. But When such a soul feels constrained by the pressure of circumstances to withdraw from the storm into « Abriss, Vol. II. p. 392. 440 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. a safe harbor, there to spend its remaining days in pious contemplation, do we find anything contrary to Protestant ism or freedom? I, at least, have not heard of any life-long vows forbidding a return to the world; but it has indeed been lamented, that, in the Protestant church, there are wanting just such places of spiritual culture, where those who desire peaceful retirement and quiet communion of heart with those in sympathy with them can have this desire gratified. And while it has been lamented that, in our church, we have no similar institutions to those of the Sisters of Charity, it may be asked, whether such institutions would not be proper preparatory schools for a .caUing which requires so much self-denial and inner contentment of spirit? The charge of sectarianism is in contrast with the cathol icizing tendency sometimes attributed to the Moravians, and frequently uttered in connection with them. There has been much discussion as to whether, and how far, the Moravians can be regarded a sect. Zinzendorf very plainly declared that he would not found a sect. He proceeded from Spener's thought: to influence the great church by gathering small churches here and there within it. But he departed from Spener's idea; for, while Spener would establish many such churches, which might be organized and dissolved according to circumstances, Zinzendorf concentrated his "coUection of souls," as he called them, into one point, and thus sought to form out of many little, churches a general Uttle church, which would exist in the midst of the great church. But whoever , has followed with us the historical progress of Spener's Pietism, and has seen how the true and original Pietism of Spener gradually declined, and how sectarianism and separatism gradually gained the upper hand under color of Pietism, and began to labor in small communities for the dissolution of ecclesiastical life, while unbelief was bringing devastation to the church at large, will not accuse Moravian- ism of a sectarian tendency, but wiU rather learn how to perceive and value the magnificence of Zinzendorf's plan. Even Bengel, who subsequently called attention. to the danger of sectarianism and exclusivism, and who would not grant zinzendorf's design with moravianism. 441 that the whole church should be watered from " one fountain," as he called it, praised the count for "beginning to plait into cues the scattered hairs which the separatists had combed 'out;" but he thought that Zinzendorf commenced too early. Stone and Ume must be prepared before we can build with them.1 The plainest proof that Zinzendorf, who hated all sectari anism, did not desire to organize a real party, is the follow ing declaration, which Spangenberg has preserved in his Biography of him: "He hopes, that if, the gospel should break out in some places in greater clearness than has been the case among the Brethren, the latter will not fail to unite immediately with those thus maintaining it; indeed, he believes that they are bound to take this course."2 He even de scribed the Brotherhood as only . a transitional institution. "When God designs to establish a work before the eyes ,of the world," he said, " he puts it aU into the hands of one; and the work does not go to ruin until it has fulfilled its mission. In this light I regard the Moravian institutions. Let the Lord's wUl be done."3 That Zinzendorf, therefore, regarded the Moravian Brother hood as only a temporary, provisional, and transitional meas ure, and often pubUcly advocated its reaction upon the whole Protestant church, may be seen from his great care that the different Protestant confessions (the "figures," as he called them), — that is, the Lutheran, the Reformed, and the old Bohemian-Moravian confessions, — should preserve their pecul iarities within the Brotherhood, and by no means be mixed, in order that each might be able to react upon the church with greater freedom. Yet it did happen (though against his desire at the start) that the original form of these "figures" gradually disappeared, in proportion as the impression of Zinzendorf and Herrnhut grew more prominent,— a phenom enon to which Bengel, with his accustomed acuteness, calls attention. And thus we might almost say, that it lay within « See Burk's Leben Bengel's, p. 383. * Spangenberg, p. 2168. Miiller, p. 97. » Reiehel, p. 76. 442 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the design of the Brotherhood, according to the purpose of its founder himself, to permit that personal and local coloring, which was a condition of the times, to disappear gradually, to identify itself more completely with the great church, and to extend the hand where there was Christian life to greet it. This design has been partially acknowledged. I do not dare to decide whether the particular societies, with their strongly exclusive forms and their peculiar institutions and customs, which we will not here investigate more closely, have kept this design in view ; for I am not sufficiently acquainted with their inward history.1 But it is certain that those free socie ties which sprang up in different places, and even among us, have contributed much toward the preservation of that prac tical Christian feehng which had weU-nigh disappeared from the great world at a certain time, but which afterward arose 1 On the internal regulations of the Brotherhood, compare, in addition to the works already cited, Schaaf, Die evangelische Briidergemeinde. Leipzig, 1825. We refer to only single points. Much that is really fabulous has been said concerning the casting of lots. Schrautenbach, who knew the Brotherhood and its customs, assures ns that this was an old sentiment of the Brotherhood: "Feeling goes further than lot;" and it was only when this feeling and the "examination of reason'' were not sufficient, that the casting of lots was employed. — As new accessions to the older institutions of Moravians, we may mention the love-feast and washing of feet. On the introduction of the former, Spangenberg simply relates the following : " In August, 1727, after the society had returned from the Lord's Supper held in Berthelsdorf, seven separate smaller societies were together in one place. To permit them to remain undisturbed, the count sent them something from his own larder at dinner-time. This they enjoyed together in love, and subse quently it has often happened among the Moravians that they have held Agapas, or love-feasts, though without confounding them in the least with the Lord's Supper. — The washing of feet bears more strictly a sacramental character in the Moravian system. Zinzendorf introduced it in order to take an argument from the separatists, who abjured the Lord's Supper; for the latter asked, with some show of reason: "Why do you not celebrate the washing of feet as well as the Lord's Supper, since it has been commanded by the Lord in words equally plain" (John xiii, 14, 15)? Zinzendorf therefore introduced the usage in 1729, and connected with it the idea of an absolution of the congregation preceding the administration of the Lord's Supper. MORAVIANISM IN SWITZERLAND. 443 with greater power, and was distinguished by a more lively interest, and by various forms of activity in the most! diverse Christian spheres. I need only mention missionary labor and the distribution of the Bible, which, though not exclusively proceeding of late from, the Moravians, have yet found in them, and their early undertakings, an encouraging example and important support. I am now led to consider, in conclusion, the reception which Moravianism has met with in Switzerland, and par ticularly by us in Basle. As already mentioned, Zinzendorf visited Basle on several occasions. He took great pleasure in the society of the mild, transparent, and free-minded Samr uel Werenfels. In a poem on his death, Zinzendorf calls him "an old man full of honor, whom his heart had known for thirty years;" and he admonished the High-School of Basle, which he termed "a school of sensible people," to continue his plan.1 But Zinzendorf met with a particular point of affiUation in Switzerland at Montmirail, which ber longed to his friend WattewiU. On his visiting that place in 1757, he met friends from Geneva, Berne, Montbeillard, Basle, Aarau, Winterthur, Zurich, and Grisons.2 Zinzendorf also stood in intimate relations with men already known to us, — Samuel Lucius of Berne, and D'Annone. An emissary from Herrnhut, by the name of Piefer, made the first arrangements for a society in Basle, in the year 1739. The clergy did not look favorably upon these movements. Candidates suspected of holding Moravian doctrines were warned against them; foreign instructors were ejected ; and citizens who entertained such persons were held to rigid responsibility. Meanwhile, Polycarp Miiller, a Moravian bishop, appealed from Marien born to the authorities of Basle, in September and December, 1742, to take the friends of the Brotherhood under their protection; but the authorities chose to listen to a memorial of the clergy, and the bishop's letter was not answered. In 1752 we find that a preacher who was connected with the Moravians was compeUed to subscribe a bond to with- * Spangenberg, pp. 161, 1328. * Ibid., p. 2119. 444 , HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. i draw from them. Before this, another one had already gone to Hemihag, and was stricken from the list of Basle can didates. In 1759 the clergy complained, among other things,,, that a number of parents sent their children to Neuwied, near Coblence, — "for the training of youth to Moravian sen timents is a course which would prove disadvantageous to future citizens." The clergy, therefore, presented a memorial against such conduct, in the year 1767.1 But in the country (in Riehen, Benken, Muttenz, Wallenburg, and Arisdorf), Mo ravian meetings gradually took shape; and many individuals from these places settled in other communities. A friend relates to us, that in 1760, when the news of Zinzendorfs death reached Riehen, the people were cutting their grain in the field. There was universal weeping. People came to gether, and thanked the Lord for the good he had accom plished by the founder of the Brotherhood. Also in the city it was noticed that public sentiment began to change in favor of the Moravians. The early disagreement between them and the clergy seemed to diminish as the sec tarian controversies which we have described above, subsided, and the elements of separatistic, Pietistic, and Moravian Chris tianity became settled and distinguishable.2 Thoughtful men in church and state were gradually convinced that the Mo ravians, instead of withdrawing the people from ecclesiastical union, rather exerted a beneficial influence upon religious life by the force of their example. Thus the relation of the Moravians to the state-church grew more friendly, and' that winning and commanding characteristic that we have admired in the founder, here became prominent; for the Moravians constantly grew in number, and exerted a very perceptible influence upon the spirit of the church and the prevailing theological tendency. Many differences have now been bal anced, and thus in 1840, when the Moravians among us cel ebrated their centennial anniversary, the descendants of those men who would once have driven them from our walls were invited guests to the joyous festival. And it is this friendly 1 See the Protocol of the Council, of the year 1743. MS. 8 See Acta Eccles., Vol. V. MS. \ \ A SENTIMENT OF SCHLEIERMACHER. 445 relation which has encouraged me to speak frankly and plainly of what I believe should be made prominent, — the human and imperfect features of the Brotherhood and its founder, — while I have as decidedly referred to what I regard the high mis sion of Moravianism. And, accordingly, I close the present lecture with the words which Schleiermacher, the man who, having himself arisen from among the Moravians, and to whom later Protestant theology owes its development, has closed his History of the Church: "It is very well that, with the larger reUgious societies, smaller ones should exist, such as the Pietists and Moravians, who do not separate in doctrine from the Protestant church, but are only distinct from it in eccle siastical discipline and in the peculiar doctrinal expression, which is confined to no literal form. This must be regarded as even a very advantageous and healthy movement, for every large church is always in danger of degenerating into the servitude of the letter, and of sinking behind external forms,; in which case it is necessary that in such small societies the peculiar Christian principle should be maintained in its purity. The useful and substantial part of history is, therefore, to recognize those periods which occur in the progress of history, and to hold up the past as a living mirror for the present, in which we can behold the future, and thus work to better advantage upon it."1 1 Kirchengeschichte, published by Bonnell, p. 622. The importance of the Moravian Brotherhood in church history has since been treated by Nitzsch in a public lecture before the Evangelical Association of Berlin (February, 1853). LECTURE XX. THE BROTHERS WESLEY, AND METHODISM.— .GEORGE WHITE- FIELD. — THE MANNER OF METHODIST PREACHING. — ANEC DOTES. — SEPARATION OF WESLEY AND WHITEFIELD ON ACCOUNT OF THE DOCTRINE OF ELECTION. — RELATION TO THE MORAVIAN BROTHERHOOD. — PARALLEL. — JOHN WES- 'LEY'S, CHARACTER. — HIS DEATH AND BURIAL.1 To be able to understand an historical phenomenon properly, and to form an impartial opinion on it, it is necessary to compare it with similar phenomena; to bring to. light what it has in common- with them; and then to see wherein it differs from them. In natural science, not less than in history, this comparative method has its undeniable advantages above a mere fragmentary and isolated account; and I therefore. 1 [No impartial reader will be fully satisfied with Dr. Hagenbach's account of Methodism. The spirit is good, for he is always free from the odium theologicum, but some of his generalizations lack support, ex cept such as has been too willingly rendered by the enemies of the de nomination among the German theologians. Still, with every drawback, it is infinitely above the caricatures of Methodism by Guericke, -Nitzsch,^. Nippold, and their class, and is probably Ihe fairest narrative of early Methodism that we have from the pen of a Reformed or Lutheran church- historian. While exception might be taken at a number of Dr. Hagen bach's statements, we have felt that justice could only be done by translating them in full, though we confess that his narrative, will be of more interest than edification to English and American readers, who have at command the whole literature of the subject, and especially such elaborate works as Bangs' History of ihe M. E. Church (4 vols. New York, 1839—41), Smith's History of Methodism (3 vols. London, 1857—62). and Stevens' History qf Methodism (3 vols. N. Y., 1858 — 61), and History of the M. E. Church in the United States (4 vols. N. Y. 1864— 68).— J. F. H.] THE ENGLISH CHURCH AT THE RISE OF METHODISM. ,447 hope that what I have said in the two preceding lectures concerning Zinzendorf and the Moravian Brethren will gain additional light and completeness by placing beside it a similar phenomenon, which runs chronologically parallel with the history of the Moravian Brethren. Yet there was this differ ence: the original soil of the Moravian movement was Ger many, while that of the other was England. We refer to the history of Methodism. John and Charles Wesley, the sons of Samuel Wesley, Rector of Epworth, situated in Lincolnshire, are the men through whom a new and vigorous elevation of religious life was brought to pass in England; and with this elevation, the foundation of Methodism occurred.1 Such an improvement was very necessary, to save the EngUsh church from both dead formality and growing skepticism; for we know, from what has already been said, that deistic Uterature in England reached its climax about the beginning of the eighteenth century, and that the defence made against it by the learned theologians did not always possess real strength, proper con ciseness, and an appropriate and hearty impressiveness. As in Germany so in England, there were noble and pious theo logians who thought that they could best disarm Deism of its power by endeavoring to effect some accommodation to it, make certain concessions to it, and draw other conclusions from it. They placed themselves upon the same ground with it, in order to oppose it more successfully. Therefore a num ber of the celebrated theologians of that period, such as Sam uel Clarke and others, were accused, now of Arianism, now of simUar heresies, and now at least of indifference, or, as it was called in England, of latitudinarianism. To these latitud- inarians there also belonged the model-preachers of the English church, such as Tillotson, who became the forerunners of our German Sacks, Jerusalems, Spaldings, and Zolhkofers. ' The preaching of the times was very much like a moral essay,, as it was designed to attract, instruct, and perhaps inwardly improve and elevate the educated classes; but as the sermons 1 The elder brother, Samuel, disapproved of much of the course of / his two younger brothers. 448 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. , in England were read, they left the great masses cold. The people could, in fact, be compared to a flock without a shepherd. ' In the Dissenting bodies, — the Presbyterian, Quaker, and others, — there was more life, more rigor, and more adaptation to the people, although here too there were many evidences of deadness; and the continual enmity between the High-Church and the Dissenters served to increase disbelief in everything positive and fixed, while the multitude of sects gave, sufficient pretext to scoffers. From the Established church itself there arose a new vitality, which broke loose from the dead formalism, but without wishing to be sectarian, and without repelling Dissenters from it, though here too the thought of building a little church within the church, and of constituting a gathering of souls out of true believers of all classes and sects, gained power. This came to pass by the Wesleys. John Wesley, born on the 14th of June, 1703, and rescued with difficulty from the burning rectory at night when a child of six years of age, early exhibited a serious and pious spirit.1 In his eighth year he was admitted to the holy com munion. When seventeen years of age, he arrived at Oxford University, where he entered Christ's College, and laid the groundwork of his theological learning. By the writings of Thomas a Kempis and other devotional authors be was then led to practical Christianity, and was regarded as a very pious student. His younger brother, Charles, who at first led a wild and worldly life, and manifested no inclination " to become 1 Comp. J. G. Burkhard, VoUstandige Geschichte der Methodisten in Eng land. — Rob. Southey, John Wesley's Leben, die Entstehung und Verbrei- tung des Methodismus, published by Dr. Fred. Ad. Krummacher. Nurem berg, 1828. 2 vols. — Richard Watson, Wesley's Leben (translated by Eckenstein). Frankfort, 1839. — Baum, Der Methodismus. Zurich, 1838. — Thomas Jackson (President of the Wesleyan Conference), Geschichte von dem Anfange, Fortgange und gegenwartigen Zustande des Methodismus in den verschiedenen Theilen der Erde, translated from the English by Theodore Kuntze. Berlin, 1840. — L. S. Jacoby (Preacher of the Meth odist Episcopal Church), Handbuch des Methodismus. Bremen, 1853. 2nd Ed. 1855. THE HOLY CLUB AT OXFORD. 449 a saint on his brother's account," entered the same college. Very soon there arose in him, ^oo, a different spirit; and as Zinzendorf founded a pious association at Halle, so did four young men at Oxford (the brothers Wesley, and their two friends, Morgan and Kirkman) unite in the year 1729 to increase their knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, by studying them on certain evenings of the week. In the foUowing year two or three of John Wesley's academical pupils, and others besides them, wished to be admitted also; and in 1732 still others . united. These young men made it their purpose to care for poor, neglected chUdren, and to visit the sick and imprisoned; -and as they were very strict in their life, so did they seek to lead back others from the giddiness of a worldly and often dissipated course to serious thought concerning themselves and God's wish in reference to them. It is the very nature of such strictness to merge into the opposite extreme to the fickle life of the world, and, by the serious efforts of persons for the. salvation of their own souls and those of others, to invite the derision of frivolous wits. So it happened to these young men. Because they adopted a certain method in their manner of Ufe, they were called Methodists,, — a sobriquet which had earlier been given to a medical school in England. One of the four founders, Morgan, died early, and, it has been said, by excessive fasting and by- intense excitement of mind. The brothers Wesley soon had occasion to enter upon a larger sphere for the dissemination of their principles. The superintendents of the new Colony of Georgia, North America, wished to supply the Christian congregations there with ap propriate clergymen. John and Charles Wesley were im mediately ready to enter upon this field of labor. They em barked in October, 1735, and met some Moravians on the ship, who, by their pious life, their great patience and resignation, but especially their quiet manner during a stormi filled them with respect and admiration. The Wesleys made the confession, that Christianity had never appeared to them in so mild a light as in these Moravian Brethren. The two brothers separated on their arrival in Georgia. John went down to Savannah, while Charles became secretary 450 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. in the service of Governor Oglethorpe, at Frederica, and after wards returned to England.- But John Wesley was mrwearied in preaching, teaching school, and visiting the homes in his new parish. He probably labored too much. Who is not aston ished to read his own account of his Sunday labor: "The first English prayers lasted from five tiU half an hour past six. The Italian (which I read to a few Vaudois) began at nine. The second service for the English (including the ser mon and the holy communion) continued from half an hour past ten, till about half an hour past twelve. The French service began at one. At two, I catechized the children. About three began the English service. After this was ended, , I had the happiness of joining with as many as my largest room would hold, in reading, prayer, and singing praise. And about six, the service of the Moravians, so called, began,— at which I was glad to be present, not as a teacher, but a learner." % Wesley's strict moral discipline involved him in many un- , pleasant circumstances.2 He left the colony in December, 1737, after the lapse of about two years, and returned to England. During his stay in Georgia he became more inti mately acquainted with the Moravian Brethren, and especially , with" Spangenberg; and by his intercourse with these pious men he became more thoroughly acquainted with himseU. "I went to America," says he, "to convert the Indians; but, oh! who shall convert me? Who, What is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of unbelief? I have a fair summer- religion. I can talk well; nay, and believe myseU, while no danger is near: but let death look me in the face, and my spirit. is troubled."3 Accordingly, by intercourse with the Moravians, he attained to increased knowledge, so that, al though he was honest with his rigid piety, he was yet far from being a true Christian. Wesley became acquainted in England with Peter Bohler, a Moravian, who won his confidence, and exerted great in- 1 Journal (Amer. Ed.), 'Vol. I. p. 45. s Especially his relation to Sophia Gauston. Southey (Germ. Ed.), p. 113 ff. » Jowmal, Vol. I. p. 55. WESLEYS INTERCOURSE WITH THE MORAVIANS. 451 fluence upon bis faith and that of his brother. When Wes ley objected to preaching because he did not possess true faith, Bohler returned him the following answer: "Preach faith until you have it, and then will you be able to preach it because you have it." Though both the Wesleys, and es-< pecially Charles, had hitherto laid great stress upon external piety, moral exactness, and frequent devotional exercises, they now gained more Ught, — owing to their intercourse with the Moravians, — on grace in Christ, and the inner joy of a faith resting on grace. Their feelings gradually became more tender and mild, and were so expressed in their sermons. Peace and joy in the Holy Spirit was now the burden of their preaching, while the law had hitherto predominated. John Wesley himseU visited the Moravian Brethren in Marienborn and Herrnhut, and took back with him to England a favor able impression of both places, though he had not become intimately acquainted with Zinzendorf. It must appear very remarkable to us that the beneficial influence of German tenderness, as exhibited in the character of the Moravians, graduaUy disappeared again from the Methodists; and the English national character became prominent in a ruggedness enhanced by a strict religious tendency. George Whitefield, the son of an innkeeper at Gloucester," worked in common with the brothers Wesley. He had 'struggled through many misfortunes in early life to become a preacher of the gospel, and is usually regarded as one of the co-founders of the Methodist Church. Whitefield returned from Georgia about the end of the year 1739, and introduced field-preaching into England, which was now adopted by Wes ley. The first attempt was made at Bristol, and similar ones occurred in other places. This extraordinary step seemed to be justified in part by the refusal of the Established clergy to open their pulpits to these strict men, and in part to the really Umited room that the churches afforded. There was an immense attendance at these out-door sermons. Hills, vales, and plains were covered with hearers. The trees " and hedges were thronged with men anxious to receive the preached Word. A solemn stillness, in the presence of the 452 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH.' beauties of nature, pervaded the meetings, which often ex tended until late in the evening. Preaching, prayer, and singing still continued even under the shining stars. WaUs and scaffolding might sink down by then: pressing weight of human beings without in the least disturbing the devotions. Nature herself seemed to be in alliance with these holy men; and often her phenomena were converted by the earnest speaker into spiritual symbols. An approaching storm, the setting sun, the singing of birds, and the wind and the clouds, were made to explain the text; and sometimes just such a natural figure seemed providentially designed for this purpose. The extraordinary character of field-preaching made it mqre attractive in the eyes of those who were favorably predisposed to Methodism, and became a means of attracting new attendants. But opponents took occasion therefrom to interfere, under the pretext that public rest and security were endangered by the coming together of the masses. The Methodists, however, appealed to the example of the Divine Master and his disciples, to the force of circumstances, to, the blessed results of their preaching, and to the remarkable con versions, — to the stricken hearts and minds, — none of which could be exhibited by the State Church. Yet they were often compelled to purchase their field-pulpits very dearly, for if they had on one side the enthusiasm of the people, united with the pressure of a thirsty flock turning from the broken cisterns to the living water, they also had the opposition of active foes ; and the hatred and derision of the excited popu lace was made to oppose the zeal of the preachers. It often happened that while rain, hail, and snow from heaven fell upon their bare heads, the very filth of the earth was also thrown at them, when they were belabored by young and old with dirt, stones, and rotten eggs, and were derided' with bitter invective and scornful laughter. But all this opposition did not move them. Wesley, who preached from his father's tombstone in the graveyard of his birth-place, Epworth, and also preached through many nights, • and went up and down the kingdom in every direction, was OPPOSITION TO EARLY METHODISM. 453 often compelled to endure the severest ill-treatment. At dif ferent times he was seized by the infuriated rabble, and was hurried off to the justice amid wild shouting and storm ing. But it was no small triumph when the investigation could elicit nothing further than that the preachers were only infatuated by blind zeal. A whole wagon-load of Methodists was once taken to the judge without any other complaint being brought against them than that they wished to be better than other people, and that they prayed from morning until evening. Finally, somebody complained that they had converted his wife, for she had had a tongue such as few possess, but that now she was as quiet as a lamb. " Take them back," said the judge, "and let them convert all the wicked tongues in the city!"1 Others did not blush to Charge the Methodists with making everybody crazy, — that people could no more curse and get drunk without every dunce making light of them, and that the whole affair was an en croachment upon true freedom. If the meetings were held in the houses instead of in the fields, they were surrounded by the rabble, and every effort made to break them up. Once a mad crowd, in its thought less rage, turned a fire-engine upon them, crushed the windows of the house, and overflowed the room where the meeting was in progress. When the auditors had fled to the upper story, the enraged mob foUowed them there, when tiles were taken, from the roof,, and the house violently entered.2 When the police-officers represented to Wesley that the populace could ftot be restrained unless he would promise to preach no more, he refused to give such an assurance. An unwearied will was native to him, and it has remained a characteristic of Meth odism. In spite of all persecution, the movement still gained strength. While the Methodists were accustomed to regard the open field as a temple, and every hill as the best pulpit, they could also accustom themselves to lay-preaching; and the lay-preachers contributed enormously to the advancement of the cause of Methodism. Such was the case with John *' Southey, Vol. II. p. 20 f. ¦ For other attacks of the populace, see Jacoby, p. 38 ff. *Vql. L— 30 454 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. v Nelson, a stone-mason Of Bristol, who preached in various cities and villages until he1 was finally seized by the officers and violently impressed as a soldier. But even in his bonds, Nelson did not cease to preach, and when he was forcibly compelled to wear the uniform, he boldly declared that he despised war, and that no one could ever compel him to enter any other service than that of the Prince of Peace, to whom he had dedicated himself. He remained a preacher even amid the din of arms; admonished his comrades against cursing and other sins; distributed tracts among them; and appointed prayer-meetings. All this involved him in new sufferings and persecutions on the part of the ensign of his company. He finaUy sank in the midst of his ill treatment, and died before his dismission could be effected. . In the year 1765 the number of unordained Methodist ¦preachers amounted to ninety-four, and at Wesley's death there were over three hundred. Wherever they went they incurred the hatred of the multitude by their powerful preach ing of repentance; and yet their sufferings were sweetened by the fruits of their preaching. These itinerant preachers directed their attention particularly to the roughest and most neglected classes. The street-crowds of London, especially in the neighborhood of Moorfields; the papists of Ireland; the miners of Cornwall; the coal-diggers of Kingswood; ship builders and sailors; criminals in prison and on the way to the scaffold; and sick people in hospitals, and beggars in the, highways and hedges, were the favorite objects of their .attention, and constituted the soil on which they scattered their seed with unwearied hands, while many a bishop of the Establishment spent his Ufe in luxury, and scarcely preached a sermon in forty years.1 Methodism, however, did not continue to be an unorgan ized itineration of awakened preachers, but it gradually assumed a systematic form and order. The society was di vided into classes, and the classes had thefr leaders, preach ers, helpers, school-teachers, and -visitors of the sick. By means of annual conferences, the first of which was held in 1 Burkhard, p. 15. CAUSES OF THE SUCCESS OF METHODISM. 455 London, 1744, the traveling preachers had an opportunity to report on their work, and to receive new appointments. There also gradually arose, near the Established and Dissenting churches, Methodist chapels in Bristol, London, Manchester, Liverpool, York, Birmingham, and other populous cities of the kingdom. The chapel in London, formerly a foundry, was a kind of cathedral of Methodism down to the year 1777, when it was supplied by another one, in the neighbor hood of Wesley's dwelling-house, in City Road. These build ings, called tabernacles by the Methodists, were extremely simple, and were supplied with as many seats as possible for the poor. The pulpits were spacious, and in them there often sat a number of preachers, frequently from the most di verse classes. In Whitefield's chapel a military captain, clad in red uniform, was once seen to enter; and then a black man foUowed, both of whom had obtained the living knowledge of Christianity in America.1 The liturgy was conducted with far more impressiveness than in the High-Church. The singing of the congregation was very earnest; and the melod ies, which were mostly old, were selected by Wesley him seU. Charles Wesley composed the text for many. Contrary to the custom of reading sermons prevalent in the EngUsh churches, Methodist preaching was mostly untrammeled and extemporaneous. These sermons were not distinguished by copiousness of material, nor by plenitude of ideas, but by boldness of expression, and an impressive enforcement and repetition of the one great, essential thought. The new birth and the necessity of repentance were their constant burden. The iron was all aglow, and the hammer which breaks the rocks was wielded by vigorous arms. "I design," says John Wesley, in the Preface to his Ser mons, published in the year 1747, "plain truth for plain people ; therefore, of set purpose, I abstain from all nice and philosophical speculations; from all perplexed and intricate reasonings; and, as far as possible, from even the show, of learning, unless in sometimes citing the original Scripture. I labor to avoid all words which are not easy to be under- * Burkhard, p. 105. 456 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. stood, all which are not used in common Ufe; and, in par ticular, those kinds of technical terms that so frequently occur in bodies of divinity, — those modes of speaking, which men of reading are intimately acquainted with, but wliich, to com mon people, are an unknown tongue." These principles re mind us of almost similar ones that we have found in Ger man preachers; for example, Jerusalem and Spalding. But with Wesley, they stood in a very different connection. The popular adaptation which the German preachers aimed at was abstract, and they had acquired it in theory; but the pop ularity of the Methodists was like that of Luther, — learned from the people themselves. While, with those Germans, simplicity of expression was a natural result of labor and care, — of a method of thinking more intellectual and prosaic, — there was concealed in Wesley, behind his native simpUcity of language, a volcano of the most mighty feelings, a consuming fire; and therefore we cannot wonder if the fire often burst out in great violence. That wrestling importunity in prayer, and that penitential conflict coming up from the inmost depths of the soul, which was sometimes accompanied by physical convulsions, were characteristics of Methodism in which it stood far beyond German Pietism. Thus, for instance, we find Wesley trembUng in the open air from cold; praying upon his knees until a late hour of the night; and, though suffering extremely from illness, leaving -his bed in the midst of his feverish excitement to grasp a faint spark of that joy of faith for which his soul was longing. Where an individual experienced great inward struggles, an ecstatic state was communicated from him to others in the assembly, as by a miracle. There must have trans pired similar occurrences to those that we found among the Camisards, — nervous ecstasies, strange convulsions of the body, united with groans, sighs, sobs, and outbursts of feehng, in which it was not always eapy to distinguish be tween an elevated reUgious life and a feeling of fanaticism excited well-nigh to mental aberration. The excitement often appeared to lapse into insanity, and the prophetic tone into 1 Southey, p. 148. PUBLIC SERVICES OF THE EARLY METHODISTS. 457 irrational speeches. As everywhere, else, so here, this con dition of mind affected others in proportion as people became accustomed to regard it as a special sign of grace. The preacher scarcely commenced before the paroxysm began. On other occasions, on the contrary, these extraordinary effects did not transpire; and their absence operated very advanta geously upon those who were only present at the meeting as quiet observers. Hence the stories of the impression that these Methodist meetings made were diverse. While some spoke of them as an assembly of distracted men,' others could not praise too highly the solemnity and power of a Methodist service, in contrast with the mechanical Uturgy of the usual EngUsh worship. Let us hear the description of an eye-witness, Joseph WUMams, a Dissenter, who attended a Wesleyan service one evening: "The hall was crowded fuU, yet there was a com fortable place reserved where the preacher could stand or sit. Before he entered, a hymn was sung; but as soon as he appeared, the singing ceased, and then he explained some passages from . the Gospel of John in a very impressive, attractive, and satisfactory manner. Then there followed an other hymn, after which the expositions were continued, which were ,intermitted once by singing. Afterwards, he offered a prayer in relation to a number of written notes that had been laid together by the society, more than twenty of which had special reference to spiritual subjects. He pronounced the benediction in conclusion, the whole devotional service having lasted nearly two hours."1 Williams found here confirmed a sentiment that he had expressed concerning an out-door sermon of Wesley: "Never have I heard such praying, or seen such unmistakable zeal and so earnest an effort to convince hearers of the sinfulness, misery, and wretchedness , of their original nature, and to picture the change which faith in Christ produces in the inner man. . . . And although the preacher had no notes, and nothing except a Bible in his hand, he yet elaborated his thoughts with such amplitude of expression, and in a manner at once so dignified and appro- 1 Southey, Vol. I. p. 248. 458 x HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. priate that I never noticed anything insipid, distasteful, or indecorous during his whole discourse. I never saw such a clear exhibition of devout piety during divine service as I did here. After every petition there arose a serious 'Amen' from the whole assembly, as the gentle sound of waters, with a solemnity which is far above all formal habit, and which, in some cases, distracts attention. If there can be heavenly music on earth, I heard it there ; and if heaven is attainable on earth, many in this assembly seemed to me to have gained it. I myseU , do not remember that, though many years are now passed, my heart has ever been so burdened with praise and love to God as during this sermon; and my soul enjoyed a living sense of this state of mind months after the event transpired." As the meetings, and especially the sermons of Wesley, in fluenced these hearers and eye-witnesses, so did they affect thousands of others. His sermons had this peculiarity : every one could feel that he was included in them, just as if they were directed to him alone. Southey compares them to pict ures, which always appear the same on whatever side we look at them.1 When Wesley once preached at Ep worth on his father's tombstone, he observed that, after half the people had departed, a man of high social position, who seemed to him to be deeply affected by the sermon, tarried in the graveyard, buried in thought. Wesley approached him and inquired: "Sir, are you a sinner?" "Sinner enough," was the reply; and the man remained immovable, looking up to heaven, un til he was led off by his family. Up to that time he had been a skeptic, not being a believer in any reUgion. Ten years afterward, Wesley visited him as he lay physically very weak and diseased, and found him a Christian, at peace with God and prepared to die.2 A farmer in Cornwall once related to Wesley himself,' in sincere gratitude, the foUowing experience: "Twelve years ago I was going over the fields, and saw a large crowd of people collected together. I asked them: 'What is going on here?' The answer was, 'Somebody is going to preach.' I thought it must be one of the madcaps. But as soon as I saw you, • Vol. I. p. 387. * Ibid., Vol. II. p. 21. REMARKABLE CONVERSIONS. 459 I said, 'No, that is no madman;' and when I had heard you, I could not find rest until it pleased the Lord to breathe strength into me, and to give my dead soul new Ufe."1 In London, a woman who had been driven to desperation by misfortune was fully determined to drown herself. It was evening. Her way led by a Methodist meeting; she heard the singing, stood stUl, entered, heard words that gave her consolation and strength, and desisted from her \ design. Other occurrences of similar character are related in great number. I will only mention one more, which is psychologic ally remarkable. Some rough men, who were together in a beer-shop, were deriding the Methodists. Each one maintained ' that he could imitate the Methodist preachers best. A wager was laid, a Bible brought, and a chair placed on the beer-table for the preacher; in this way the blasphemous mimicry began. Three had played their part, when a fourth sprang to the chair, intending to excel his predecessors in comic imitation and declamation. But after he had selected his text, and his eyes had faUen upon the words, "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish," he was internally convulsed; his hair suddenly stood on end, and his Ups overflowed with a powerful and, earnest sermon on repentance, which made the very hair of his wild associates about him stand up. The whole company observed that he was serious, forgot their wager, and the mimic remained from that hour afterwards a Methodist preacher. "But," said he often, when relating the circum stance, "if I ever preached by the aid of the Divine Spirit, it was at that time."2 This and similar conversions could easUy have caused the belief which the opponents of the Methodists sought to circulate against them,— that they were dealers in enchantment, and that whoever heard them would be caught in their net.3 ^ George Whitefield's eloquence seems to have been more powerful than Wesley's. Hume, who was far from being a Methodist, declared him to be the most talented preacher he ever heard, and to hear whom was well worth the trouble * Southey, Vol. II. p. 52. * Ibid., p. 81. s Ibid., p. 87. 460 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH of walking twenty miles.1 Whitefield's solemn appearance was highly impressive. He spoke extemporaneously, and was greats ly influenced by the sympathy of his congregation. His ser mon was often interrupted by his weeping ; and he who usu ally found the right word at the right time, occasionally seemed to lose all self-control. He wept profusely, and stamped aloud and earnestly; sometimes he was so exhausted that his preaching was followed by hemorrhage, when there was great anxiety for his life. But all this helped to swell the torrent of enthusiasm that pervaded the assembly. Even when the sermon transgressed all the bounds of good taste, and bor dered on the burlesque, it had a great influence upon the multitude. One could not be inattentive at Whitefield's preaching; all were enchanted from beginning to end. A ship-carpenter said, that he "had been able to build a ship from beginning to end during every sermon that he had beard in his parish church; but during Whitefield's preaching, he could not lay a beam, if it would save his soul." The most violent anger was disarmed when hearing White- field's discourses. In Exeter, a man stood with a stone in his hand and others in his pocket, to cast them at the despised preacher; but in the very first part of the sermon the stone dropped from his hand, and when the sermon had ended, he went to Whitefield with these words : " Sir, I came with the view of knocking your brains out, but God has given me a broken heart by your preaching." But his discourses were aUke irresistible upon cultivated, self-possessed minds. In America, when preaching a sermon in which he solicited con tributions for building an orphan-house in Savannah, one of his auditors was Franklin, who was resolved to give nothing, because he was not pleased with the enterprise. He had a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five Louis-d'ors in his pocket, and the further the sermon proceeded, the more deeply did he grasp his money. He who at first would give nothing, ventured to take hold of his copper money; the second part of the sermon won from him his silver, and by the time Whitefield had reached his conclusion, Southey, Vol. II. p. 237. WHITEFIELD'S PREACHING. 461 FrankUn threw all that he had, gold included, into the collec tion-box. In Camburlang, Scotland, Whitefield's sermons in fluenced the people so powerfully that persons who had fallen down through distress and alarm had to be carried away like wounded people from a battle-field. Whitefield once preached during Whitsuntide in Moorfields, London, where a number of stands had been erected by ex hibitors of puppets and animals, — about which the masses collected. He determined to erect his field-pulpit in the midst of these " chUdren of Satan." He estimated the number of people at nearly thirty thousand. He chose for his text: "Great is Diana of the Ephesians," and his first words were welcomed with stones and rotten eggs. But he soon enjoyed the triumph of seeing a mountebank's stand, which had en joyed great favor, graduaUy losing its crowds, which now pressed toward his pulpit. Altogether, three hundred and fifty new members were won to the Methodist society. As far as we are concerned, we must confess that this procedure, as weU as many others in Methodist history, has somewhat the character of the mountebank.1 But we should not lay tob much stress on the excrescences of Methodism, nor look at them alone, and separated from the root that supported the tree, — which root, notwithstanding all the unsound scions that sprang from it, was in possession of vigorous Ufe. It is more lamentable than all this that the spirit of theo logical disputation, and also of division, arose among a society 1 pf Whitefield played the mountebank on this occasion, and other similar occurrences in the history of Methodism were of the same character, then did Paul play the mountebank when he interfered so successfully with the' business of the silver shrine-makers of Asia Minor, who cried, in one breath: "Great is Diana of the Ephesians," and, through their spokesman, in another: "Sirs, ye know that by this craft we have our wealth. Moreover ye see and hear, that not alone at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul hath persuaded and turned away much people, saying they be no gods, which are made with hands: so that not only this our craft is in danger to be set at 'nought; but also that the temple of the great goddess Diana should be despised, and her magnificence should be destroyed, whom aH Asia and the world worshippeth."— J. F. HJ f 462 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. /. whose chief aim had been practical Christianity. Whitefield and Wesley first united in one and the same work, but separated about the year 1740 on account of the doctrine of election; for Whitefield adhered to Calvin's rigid view of unconditional predestination, while Wesley defended the milder doctrine of Arminius, that man can and should cooperate for his own salvation. For some time the friends remained per sonally separated ; yet they were again reconciled, and, when Whitefield died on his seventh visit to America, at Newbufy- port, Massachusetts, 1770, and the news of his death reached England, Wesley delivered a funeral discourse in London; "for," said he,, "I wish to honor in every possible way the memory of this great and good man." But division continued among \ the Methodists themselves. The controversy continued with much bitterness and irritation, especially on the side of the rigid Calvinists, while the milder Wesleyans exhibited greater moderation in dispute; and it was just this moderation that at last enabled them to gain the victory. On Wesley's side there stood in this conflict a man distinguished for his ele vated piety, great purity of inner life, and clearness and moder ation. He was a Swiss, Jean GuUlaume de la Flechere (or Fletcher, as he was accustomed to call himself in England, his second fatherland), born at Nyon, in the Canton Vaud, a man who, as his contemporaries declared, seemed in face and nature to have communed rather with angels than with men, and who made his life an offering to the preaching of peace. Fletcher was of a mild temperament, thoroughly practical, and disinchned to theological disputation. If all the Method ists had been of the same sentiment, they would have been stiU more effective.1 Even Wesley stands here far behind Fletcher. There are differences between the Methodists and the Mora vians, for Wesley maintained that man, newly born by the grace of God, — the true Christian, — can arrive at moral perfection in this Ufe; while Zinzendorf believed that even a pardoned man can always find occasion enough to sin [so did Wesley], and, as long as he is in the body, that he will find it necessary 1 See Leben Fletcher's, with Preface by Tholuck. Berlin, 1833. METHODISM AND MORAVIANISM COMPARED. 463 to receive the Savior's pardon. "In this condition," said the Moravian Bohler, in opposition to the Wesleys, " the old man remains until death. The old nature is like an old tooth; you can break off one part and then another, and still another; but you cannot take it all out; the stump will remain there, and so long as you Uve, it will occasionally give you pain." Zinzendorf expresses this view still more strongly in an interview with Wesley: "I acknowledge no indwelling per fection in this life. This is the error of all errors; I hunt it through the whole world with fire and sword; I tread upon it with my feet ; I annihilate it. Christ is our only perfection ; aU Christian perfection is only in the blood of Jesus; it is a perfection which is brought to us, not one that dwells within us." However, Wesley subsequently so corrected his view of perfection that he made it consist in steadfast relation with God, which fills the heart continually with humble love; but he did not deny the impediments this pure and undisturbed love is compelled to experience in our earthly lUe. This single controversial question was the external cause of keeping separate two societies, which, notwithstanding many points of resemblance, were in some respects very different. If we compare Methodism and Moravianism, we shall certainly find many features common to both. As Zinzen dorf endeavored to organize bands of true believers in Germany and other parts of the Continent, yet did not dissent from the Augsburg Confession, so did Wesley strive to instill new Ufe into the Estabhshed church and at the same time awaken Dissenters, while he was a member of the Established church and never became a Dissenter himseU. Zinzendorf and Wesley were pious men, though they led very different careers in Ufe. Zinzendorf did not experience those power ful struggles of soul which Wesley passed through; and if we can °say that the essence of Christianity consists as well in the strong knowledge of sin as in the believing acceptance of the grace freely proffered us in Christ and sealed by his death, we would naturally expect that, after the controversy on perfection, the sense of sin would be more decided among 464 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the Moravians than among the Methodists. But it is just the reverse. We find that Wesley and the Methodists laid more stress upon the sense of sin, while Zinzendorf and the Moravians made prominent the feeling of salvation. Both fall here and there into one-sided views. One of Methodism (not its real nature) consists in the belief that we can never gain the victory before contending for it, and never obtain the sense of salvation until we have repented and struggled for perfection [?]. We have seen already that a one-sided view of the Moravian system consisted in permitting the feeling of rest and peace, which had been effected by faith in re demption, to become prematurely prominent before the new man arises from the old. While Methodism describes hell and Satan in their horrors, the imagination of the Moravians deals more with heaven and the angels. But, for this reason, both systems supplement each other in various ways, and often in one and the same person, and within each society. It was a Supreme Providence that conducted these great movements in their simultaneous mission to resist the in creasing skepticism and religious coldness that were spread ing from England over the Continent. Both of these denomina tions have attached great importance to missions, and it is chiefly to their instrumentality that the whole Protestant world has imbibed the missionary spirit. And how much Methodism has done for the abolition of the slave-trade, has .been honorably acknowledged by those who look from the standpoint of humanity. The name of 'Wilberforce is more than any amount of proof.1 Another outward difference be tween Methodism and Moravianism is its great missionary labors in Christian lands, — its systematic and comprehensive evangelization of the masses, — which object, as far as I know, the Moravians have never aimed to accomplish. The honor has been conferred upon Wesley (as well as on Zinzendorf) of comparing him to Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the order of Jesuits. And, indeed, both societies did have 1 Comp. on him, Neander, Das Eine und MannigfaMge des chriMichen Lebens, p.' 128 ff. Berlin, 1840. (Wilberforce was born on the 24th of August, 1759, and died July the 27th, 1833.) Wesley's love for the poor and neglected. 465 externally a similar origin, for both began with a circle of pious students. I would like to compare, as has already been done, the labors of the Methodists within the Protestant church in the eighteenth century with those of the Mendicant Friars and the orders of preachers within the sphere of Catholic Christendom in the thirteenth and the following centuries. Is it too frequently said that the Methodists are the Mendicant Friars of Protestantism? Or, does not Methodism, with its popular eloquence, its itinerant preachers, and its love for the most neglected and sunken classes of society, represent Christian democracy within the church, in opposition to the supremacy of a few great ones? Moravianism, al though it did not keep aloof from the humble classes, and built no wall of division between the upper and lower orders, approached nearer to the aristocracy in some respects. Zin zendorf, with all his meekness and humility, could never really lay aside the "Count," for rank seemed natural to him.1 But with Wesley the case was very different. Nature had made him a man for the masses, and notwithstanding all that native nobility and dignity by which he impressed everybody, there wa§ in him a true absence of everything that savored of haughtiness. He once wrote to an earl: "I have not the least wish to enter into associations with people of rank, — at least for my own sake; they do me no good, and I fear that I cannot benefit them." To another friend he thus ex pressed himself: " I have found some of the uneducated poor who have exquisite taste and sentiment ; and many, very many, of the rich who have almost none at all. In the heart of most religious people of the higher classes there is such a strange mixture that I can generally have little confidence in them. But I love the poor, and find in many of them an in trinsic merit not disturbed, by folly, artifice, or a haughty nature. Among the rich there are so many words that mean nothing, so many customs that have no sense, and so much that is showy and dazzling. . . . Yet it is true that some rich people are caUed. May the Lord increase their number, but choose other instruments than me for that object; for if I 1 We refer the reader to what Schrautenbach says of him. 466 history of the church. had the choice I would rather continue to preach the Gospel to the poor." It was hard for him, as he said, to be shallow enough for aristocratic auditors. While Zinzendorf and the Moravians proceeded upon the principle of elevating a few chosen individuals from the masses of the people, but especially from the upper classes, in order to unite them as a spiritual aristocracy into a little church " within the church, Methodism, on the other hand, endeavored . to find in the hearts of the people, — though these might be the lowest dregs of society, — its building-material for a new church, which should be distinguished by its earnest spirit, ~ and overthrow that old Baal-temple of a mechanical and formal type of Christianity. But the circumstances in England were different from those in Germany. The popular masses upon which the Methodists chiefly operated were not upon the same footing with the German people. Before the rise of Mora vianism, Pietism had influenced the middle classes, — the very marrow of the German population, — and had even gained great favor in the upper circles. Hence the Moravians found the soil in many respects prepared for them, while Wesley and the Methodists had only a stony, field to cultivate. The poor and needy emigrants from Moravia providentially feU in with Zinzendorf, while the Methodists sought out the aban doned in the darkest dens of wretchedness, and even stripped the fields of laborers at the risk of their own Ufe. There is something in Methodism which borders on the spirit of martyrdom, — a fact which certainly does not belong to quiet Moravianism. Methodism has here had an experience similar to that of the Reformed Calvinistic church, while Moravianism represents conservative and exclusive Luther anism. It is a remarkable phenomenon, that, whUe the Ger man farmer was affected by new stirrings of religious life (for the writings of Arndt, Scriver, and Bogatzky had found many readers among the German peasants in particular), the case was very different in England. . No class of people were more unimpressible by Methodism than the farmers, who, being in the possession and enjoyment of their land, showed but little longing for heaven. The emotional features of METHODISM AND MORAVIANISM. 467 .Methodism could still less influence the phlegmatic farmer, while it could not fail to operate on those who had no house, no home, and no family, and therefore grasped first at what would elevate them above their degradation and give their souls a higher impulse. Such minds as would be most sus ceptible of revolutionary ideas in excited times, would likely be influenced by such sermons as Methodism produced. The effect might be good or bad in different places; but some times it could be singularly mixed up, and there are examples where religious Methodism subserved political radicalism in stead of eradicating it. Methodism had, indeed, as little revolutionary tendency as Moravianism, if we look at the movement itself; but in the form of its appearance, Meth odism possessed more of a revolutionary tendency, while Mo ravianism was more conservative. Methodism pushes ahead more earnestly ; Moravianism shuts itself up and waits to be sought. Methodism is vigorous, energetic, and effective, and arouses marrow and bone; but Moravianism is more yielding, effeminate, and sentimental. The former is more abrupt by its ruggedness, while the latter is more attractive, quiet, con ciliatory, and sometimes, indeed, more lax. Yet it must not be forgotten, that what may be said of the two systems in general must be qualified in particular; for within sects, orders, and societies, or whatever you may caU them, there must be a great diversity of individual1 characters which,— though it has a certain stamp, because of a common spirit of union,— cannot deny its personal distinct iveness. If we were to pursue the history of Methodism in- individual characters, we should now meet with some whom it would not be improper to call fanatics ; but then we should meet with others who, Uke Fletcher, combine a deep piety and peace of soul, a mild and humble nature, and the purest transparency of spirit. We shall content ourselves with merely referring to the person of John Wesley, and in part to that of Ins brother Charles. " Seldom have I seen," says a biographer of John Wesley, in Herder's Adrastea, " a more beautiful old man. A serene and smooth countenance, an arched nose, the clearest and 468 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. most piercing eye, a fresh color quite unusual to one of his age, and betraying perfect health — all this gives him an Ex terior at once interesting and venerable. You could not see him without being struck with his appearance. Many persons who were full of prejudice and opposition to him before seeing him, acquired quite a different opinion of him after making his personal acquaintance. There was a mingling of cheer fulness and seriousness in his voice, and in aU his conduct. He was very sprightly, and one could not but notice the quick variability of his animal spirits, though deep peace reigned within him. If you were to see his profile it would indicate- great acuteness of understanding. His dress was a model of neatness and simplicity: A thrice-folded neckcloth, a coat with a narrow standing collar, no knee-buckles, nor silk or satin on his whole body, but crowned with snow-white hair. These gave him the appearance of an apostle. Clean liness and order shone out from all his person. . . .In social life, Wesley was lively and communicative. He had been much among men; he was full of anecdotes and ex periences which he related willingly, and, what is not of less importance, well. He could be very cheerful and pleasant. His elasticity of spirits communicated itself to others, and suffered so little beneath, the weakness of age or the ap proach of death that no one could think he had been as happy in his twentieth as he was in his eightieth year. His temper ance was remarkable; in his early life he carried it much too far. He commenced fasts and other forms of self-denial at Oxford, and indulged in but little sleep. But toward the close of his life he relaxed somewhat from this rigid regimen. In thirty-five years he did not have to lie in bed one day. "Wesley was one of the most industrious of men. Even yet he has not ceased to travel. If he bad not possessed the art of dividing his time very systematically he could not have done what he has. But every item of business has its own hour. He went to bed between nine and ten o'clopk, and rose at four. No society, no conversation, however pleasant, nothing but a case of sheer necessity, could induce him to break his rules. In the same methodical way he wrote and john Wesley's personality. 469 traveled and visited the sick. It has been calculated that he delivered forty thousand four hundred and sixty discourses, to say nothing of the multitude of addresses he made to his society and classes. In his early life he traveled on horse back. The reins resting on the horse's neck, he held his book before his eyes and studied ; he had many an adventure on horseback. It is thought that in fifty years he traveled two hundred and eighty thousand English miles. No one of a less powerful body than his [?] could endure this ceaseless activity. In addition to this comes his great authorship. He composed hymns and added melodies. He made singing doubly pleasant, for he had the male and female voices interchange parts ; he appointed singing exercises, so that when there was no organ in the chapel its place might be amply supplied by accompUshed vocalists; he sometimes made sacred music the subject of discourses. The singing of many thousands of Methodists in the open fields, in forests or graveyards, was sometimes foUowed by wonderful effects. "Wesley was remarkably benevolent. His kindness to the poor knew no bounds. He not only gave away a portion of his income, but he gave away all he had. He even com menced to do this in early Ufe. . . . But with all his beneficence, bis was not an impressible nature. The expres sions of his love seemed to flow, not so much from the foun tains of his nature, as from a profound sense of duty. His heart was not susceptible of real attachment; he was not formed for friendship. H he bestowed special attention upon individuals, it was that he might make them more useful, and because of his personal attachment to them. His sole aim was the advancement of Methodism. If any one of his co workers did not conform to his plans, he was thrown over board, like Jonah from the ship. He was very forgiving,— one of the most remarkable quahties of the whole man. By nature he possessed an impulsive and almost vehement dis position; but this was very much improved by religion, though not completely overcome. He usuaUy preserved a quiet and even temper, which contrasted strongly with his activity and liveliness in external conduct. He not only bore persecution Vol. I.— 31 470 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. without wrath, but almost without any perceptible feeling. If his authority was invaded, it provoked his violent indignation. He said of himself: 'Nothing is easier for me than to for give offences.' Just as soon as his opponent yielded, Wesley was disarmed, and met him with great kindness and con sideration." 1 Thus far with the biographer in Herder. In order to complete the picture, we make some addition. We would form a false impression of Wesley U we should regard his doctrines as so strict that he stood in every respect with the rigidly orthodox. By no means was this the case.- As Bengel and Zinzendorf, with all their strict faith, bad liberal opinions which deviated from the faith of the multitude on doctrinal points, so did Wesley possess them also. He spoke prominently of the use of reason in religion. "There are many," said he, "who decry the use of reason in religion; but I by no means agree with them. I rather find in the Holy Scriptures that our Lord and his apostles always went to work with their opponents in a reasonable way. The greatest reasoner was Paul, who laid down the law for aU Christians: 'Be not children in understanding: howbeit in malice be ye children, but in understanding be men.' But the grounds must be true and right from which we draw conclusions; for it is impossible to deduce the truth from false premises."2 Wesley had mild views on the different confessions and sects of Christendom. For the edification of his adherents he published biographies of both CathoUcs and Socinians; and he confessed that experience had taught him that one could be a pious man and still have erroneous views on the Trinity. He. regarded even the heathen who did their duty according to the best of then: knowledge as fit for eternal 1 From Hampson's Leben Wesley's, published by Niemeyer, Part II. pp. 205,206. (Herder's Werke, — Philosophy and History, — Part X. p. 218). s See Wesley's work, An Earnest Appeal to Men of Season and Be- ligion. Bristol, 1711. In Burkhard, p. 168. — The later Methodists would hardly agree with this sentiment. [As a denomination, they have never deviated from it. — J, F. H.J WESLEYS TOLERANCE. 471 Ufe; the guardian spirit of Socrates he declared to be a good angel; and he believed that Marcus Antoninus really possessed higher inspirations,— which he frequently mentioned.1 "We ask," says he, "for no opinions. Members of the Established church, Dissenters, Presbyterians and Independents,— all can be admitted. . . . Only one condition is necessary, — a true desire to save the soul."2 "I have," said he on one occasion, "as Uttle right to exclude any man because of his opinions as because he wears a wig and I my own hair. But if he takes his wig off, and shakes it in my face, so that the powder flies into my eyes, then I have the right to get clear "of him as soon as possible." (A good figure to show the true limits of tolerance). But Wesley was as strict in moral matters, or anything which he regarded as belonging to that department, as he was indulgent in reference to doctrinal opinions, — although this indulgence was somewhat subject to exceptions. He was extremely rigorous in religious conduct; not only were dancing, theatricals, and card-playing forbidden to his adherents, but he regarded every kind of amusement, recreation, or refreshment as sinful; even children were for bidden to play. Innocent diversion was, according to Wesley, a contradiction. In this respect he went farther than German Pietism had gone; much farther than Spener;3 farther than Zinzendorf; and even farther than the Puritans. He did not think sufficiently that if he could keep his mind always stretch ed to the utmost tension, and make progress under those circumstances, such a method was not possible to everybody; and thus there were various evidences of too much tension in the Methodist "church. A character like that of Wesley was adapted to founding an order, not for a husband and head of a family. Wesley's marriage does not belong to the happy class. While Zinzen dorfs wife was eminently adapted to him, Wesley found him self compelled to separate, after ten years, from the widow » Southey, Vol. II. p. 196 f. 2 Ibid., p. 466 f. 8 Comp., for example, what Spener says on dancing and the theater: gen, Part. IV. pp. 206—208. 2nd Ed. 472 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. whom he had married.1 While Bengel, in his principles of education, knew how to combine seriousness and mildness, Wesley, who had no children, would conduct everything on strict principles. More happy in this respect was his brother Charles, who was very different from him in many other things. Both brothers reached a very old age. Charles died first, at eighty years of age; his brother followed him on the 2nd of March, 1791, at the age of eighty-eight years. "Oh God!" said he, "what is all the glory of the world to a dying man!" He often sang the verse: "I'll praise my Maker, while I've breath, And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, Whilst life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures." Finally he said: "Now we have done, let us all go. The clouds drop fatness;" " The Lord is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge." "Farewell," was the last Word that he spoke. Quite in harmony with his principles, he gave direction that his body should be borne to the grave by six poor men, and that each should be rewarded for his labor with twenty shfllings. He said: "I beg, above all, that there be no pompous funeral, no carriages, no arms, no ornament, — nothing but the tears of those who love me and who wiU foUow me to a better world." * Southey, Vol. n. p. 296 ff. LECTUEE XXL SWEDENBORG AND THE CHURCH OF THE NEW JERUSALEM. — HIS VTEWS ON THE BIBLE, THE CHURCH, CHRIST, AND ANGELS. — HIS VISIONS OF SPHilTS AND THE FUTURE WORLD.— JUNG-STTLLING AND LAVATER. Of the reUgious phenomena of the eighteenth century which constituted a decided antagonism to the skeptical theology of the times, and had their party-names, there still remain to be treated, —in addition to the Moravians and Methodists,-^ the Swedenborgians, or members of the Church of the New Je rusalem. After examining this church, we wiU append a brief notice of StilUng and Lavater. We might comprise Sweden borg, Stilling, and Lavater in the idea of the theosopbical, the mystical, the visionary, and the magieal. However, the boundary lines are not strictly defined. Even within Pietism, Moravianism, and Methodism, we saw here and there opin ions arise that bordered on the magical. They remind us of the miraculous power ascribed to Bengel's prayer during a storm. Similar things are said of Wesley;1 and although otherwise no miracles are related of Zinzendorf, yet he is said to have once driven the devil from a possessed girl.2 Yet such things were only transient and accidental. The chief field which Pietism, Moravianism, and Methodism culti vated was the practical. 1 Once, when in Durham, the sun shone so hotly on his head that he could hardly speak. "I stopped a moment," he says, "and prayed God to give me shelter, to labor for his honor. Just then a cloud covered the sun, and did not disappear from it again." Southey, Vol. II. p. 405. 3 Spangenberg, p. 1113. 474 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. Luther had already placed a higher estimate on miracles in the moral world than on those in the natural, — it was miracles of conversion to which he attached greatest impor tance. In the same way, Zinzendorf and Wesley were dis tinguished from the Inspired in expecting no new revelations, and in having no visions, but in relying everywhere upon the Scriptures, which, — though these men had different views on the same passages, — were yet to them always the highest law and real depository of the old and universally applicable reve lation. The case was different with Swedenborg and kindred minds. Here, we hear of new revelations, of a continuous com munion with the spirit-world and its prominence in the visible world, and of a constant miraculous power in the church; and we here find repeated, though in other forms, what we found earlier in Jacob Boehme, Gichtel, Bourignon, and many Mystics.1 Yet within this department we also find a moder ate degree of diversity. While Swedenborg stood farthest from the common orthodox opinions of the church and the letter of the written word, we find Stilling and Lavater, on the other hand, — with all their magical proclivities, — in greater union with the Bible and the received doctrines of the church, and also , in a much closer relation to practical life; so that they harmonized in many respects even with Pietism and kindred tendencies. Indeed, in Layater's own person many apparent contradictions were united. Thus we find it very hard to make an exact classification. We will begin, however, with Swedenborg, since chronological order demands it. Emanuel Swedenborg, (properly Swedberg) was born at Stockholm in 1689. His father, a Lutheran bishop of West Gottland, trained him in the principles of rigid ecclesiastical orthodoxy. It was said of him when he was a boy, that "the angels spoke through him;" and until his tenth year we iearn, that " he was always busy to speak of faith and love." In 1710 he, commenced his travels through England, Holland, France, and Germany, and attended the different universities of these countries during the space of four years. He applied * See Vorlesungen, Part. IV. SWEDENBORG'S WORKS ON NATURAL SCIENCE. 475 himself with special relish to mathematics and natural science. Charles XII., with whom he often had occasion to speak, appointed him successor in the Mineralogical College, in which character he became prominent by a number of, useful dis courses, and by the publication of scientific works. In 1719 Queen Ulrica elevated him to the nobility, and in 1720 and 1721 he visited the Saxon mines, and wrote learned treatises on them. After 1729 he was a member of the Royal Society of Sweden, and in 1734 he published his Philosophical and Mineralogical Works. After this, in 1740 and 1741, he issued his Economy of the Animal World Down to this time he seems to have been an empirical natural philosopher, whose labors were outwardly directed to practical departments of Ufe, — machinery, mines, and the like. But Swedenborg's observation and study of visible nature, with its practical application to life, served only as the basis for his specula tions on the spiritual world. It was in 1743, during his. stay in London, that, as he firmly and steadfastly believed, the Lord appeared to him, revealed to him his inner nature, dis closed to him the spiritual world, and honored him with inter course with angels. In 1747 Swedenborg resigned his office, but, because of the king's order, he continued to receive his full salary. He now devoted himself exclusively to his new calling as an observer of spirits and an inquirer into heavenly mysteries. His earthly abode alternated between England and Sweden; but he also made journies to heaven and hell, and had meetings and interviews with all spirits of the antedilu vian, the Old Testament, and Christian periods. He pubUshed, at his own expense, his theological and theosophical works of this time. As might be expected, they created for him many friends and enemies. Skeptics derided him, and the orthodox persecuted him; yet he was protected against thefr zeal by the royal defence of Adolphus Frederick. Swedenborg, with all his relations to heaven, was a refined and distinguished gentleman of the world, who knew how to commune with people of standing, and with cultivated women, as weU as with spirits. With all his peculiarities, he was a man of humane, strictly moral, and pious sentiments. With con- 476 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. tinuous health, he reached an advanced age, dying in London on the 29th of March, 1772, when eighty-four years of age. It is quite difficult to give a brief synopsis of Swedenborg's doctrines, for, though what is apparently detached is yet con nected, the single threads uniting the whole are often tan gled into a wonderful ball, while their beginnings and ends are lost in mystical darkness. Beginning with the fountain whence Swedenborg drew his doctrines, we find that it was not the Holy Scriptures, and least of all their naked letter. The angels themselves taught him, — that is, the departed spirits of the dead, — for Swedenborg would acknowledge no other an gels than those who had existed as human beings on the earth. These instructions of the angels, or saints, were not regarded by him as contradictory to the Scriptures, but rather taught him first how to understand the Bible, and conducted him into its spiritual meaning. Our present Holy Scriptures, just as we now have them, were to Swedenborg only the coarse copy of the Scriptures of the angels, which preceded them; and it is therefore necessary to be led by the help of angels into the deep mystical meaning of the Scriptures, which ever shines forth from the Bible as the soul from the body, or as the thought from the eye, and enables us to read it aright, and to dis tinguish the real from the unreal. To every external quality of the Bible there corresponds exactly, as to every external quality in the visible world, an inner quality; and to trace out these external and internal correspondencies of Scripture is the task of the spiritual expounder of the Bible, because it is by them that names, numbers, and other features of the Scriptures, which otherwise seem to have no value to us, first receive their true signification. In the remotest times the science of correspondencies thoroughly pervaded the East; the three wise men who greeted the new-born Savior were filled by it. But this secret wisdom was lost from the Jews; they ad hered to the letter, and therefore received error for truth. Hence they did not recognize the Messiah. This science of correspondence was not known to the first Christians, and they did not need it in their pious simplicity. It was even con cealed from the Reformers. Now, for the first time, — that SWEDENBORGS D'OCTRINES. 477 is, at the time of Swedenborg,— it arises once more with new clearness. It is a beautiful and poetical conception of Swedenborg, that, when the pure souls of children read the Bible, the angels are more edified thereby than when it is read by older persons. Swedenborg's views on the church are connected with those on the Scriptures. The true church, the New Jerusalem, is first to be expected with tiie true spiritual knowl edge of the Word, which will be coincident with the spiritual second coming of Christ. Much of what the church has thus far taught is false, especially its doctrine of the Trinity. Ac cording to Swedenborg, or rather, according to the instruc tions purported to have been received from the angels, there are not three persons, as the orthodox teach ; for this would be nothing better than a belief in three gods. But in the one person of the God-man, Jesus Christ, the whole Trinity is included. Here Swedenborg is somewhat similar to Zinzen dorf, since he will not acknowledge any other God than the one revealed and incarnate in Christ. Christ, according to him, is at the same time Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. It is Christ himself who is the triune God. Swedenborg likewise rejected, the ecclesiastical doctrine of the satisfaction of Christ. It seemed to him contrary to sense and reason that man should be justified by a foreign service, by something from without. In this view he united with the Socinians and the skeptical theologians of the century far more than with Zinzendorf. Yet he interpreted the death of Christ more profoundly than they did. Swedenborg saw in his suffer ings and death something that purifies man and elevates him above himself; and therefore he regarded the sufferings of Christ, in relation to Christ himself, as meaning that he pres sed through battle to victory. This process of suffering was to Christ nothing less than the inward development of his human nature into the divine. Christ, in his death, celebrated his own glorification. He was glorified by sufferings. He did not take away sins once for all from man, but he now takes them away, in that he communicates to the penitent a new divine life. According to Swedenborg, redemption is a spiritual, 478 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. inner deed; it is coincident with the sanctification and renewal of man. He. thus taught expressly, as Dippel and other Mystics, that man must contribute from himself something toward his own sanctification, if he would make his faith available. "There is," says Swedenborg, "a divine and a human faith; they have the divine faith who repent, but those have the human faith who are not penitent and yet are rely ing on imputation. Divine faith is a Uving faith, human faith is dead. Jesus himself began his preaching with the word 'Repent;' and it was on this condition that he promised forgiveness of sin." 1 With this doctrine, Swedenborg not only occupied a different ground from that of Zinzendorf, who maintained that the appropriation of the merits of Christ is the first and only condition of salvation, but he also placed himself in antagonism to the doctrine of the orthodox Protest ant church. He here stood nearer to the Catholic doctrine, which maintains that sanctification and justification are one, and which requires works with faith. Especially remarkable are Swedenborg's views of lUe after death, concerning which he not only maintained that he was instructed by the departed, but that he had been convinced by personal observation. Every person transfers himself into the other world; he has there his own life. He is and djes there what he was and did here ; what he here wished and desired, he wishes and desires there. This is Swedenborg's fundamental idea of the future. Hence he declared it a radical error of most men to expect, after death, a powerful change, a -state which far transcends our present imagination, — something ideal, abstract, and peculiar. To him, the future life is nothing less than a higher potency of the present, — the manifesta tion of what we have here experienced and performed. "Very many learned people of the Christian world," says he, " when they find themselves after death in a body, in clothes, and in houses, as in this world, and when they are reminded of 1 We take these and the following statements from Tafel's GSttliche Offenbarungen Swedenborg's (Tub., 1823 ff.), and from the Magazin fur die neue Kirche (Tub., 1824). Comp., however, Swedenborg und seine Gegner, oder Beleuchtung der Lehrer und Berichte Swedenborg's, etc. Stuttg. 1844. swedenborg's views on the future. 479 what they had once thought of life after death, of the soul, of spirits, and of heaven and hell, will be filled with shame, and say that their notions had been foolish, and that people of simpler faith had been much wiser than they. . . . That the spirit of man, after its separation from the body, is still man, and is the occupant of a form like that of a human being, is perfectly certain to. me, from a daily ex perience of many years; for I have seen, heard, and spoken with such men a thousand times. ... The spirits have a profound regret that such ignorance should prevail in the world, and especiaUy within the church." To this ignorance Swedenborg ascribed as well those ab stract and idealistic views of learned men, by which the soul is said to be a mere matter of thought, without corporeal substance,' as the usual ecclesiastical doctrine that the union of the soul with the new body can be expected only after the resurrection, and that until then the soul is compelled to look upon itself as something uncorporeal. According to Swe denborg, this necessary connection of body and soul takes place immediately, or, rather, it is continued as in this life, but in a manner adapted to the future state. Heaven and hell are occupied only by the beings who had once lived on this earth; for, as has been already said, Swedenborg ac knowledges neither any other angels nor devils than such as were once men. What is imagined as a devil, in one person, is only a collective idea for all damned souls. In his denial of a personal devil, therefore, as in some other views, Swe denborg is in harmony with neology, but his is a different standpoint. We see him reject and spiritualize likewise the usual view of the final judgment. The last judgment has already occurred; Swedenborg saw it with his own eyes, after the earlier judg ments had passed, — the last of which occupied the whole of the year 1757. We have from him a very accurate descrip tion of it: "All nations and people on whom judgment was pronounced in this spiritual world, appeared in the following order: In the middle the Protestants were convened, and were divided according to nationality, — the Germans at the north; 480 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. the Swedes toward the west; the Danes due west; the Dutch towards the east and south; and the English in the middle. Around this center formed by the Protestants, were the papists, the most of whom were in the west, but some in the south. Beyond these were the Mohammedans, also divided according to nationality, and they all appeared in the west and south. Beyond these the heathen were convened in countless numbers, and constituted a circle of themselves. StUl beyond them there appeared something like a sea, which was the limit of the whole. That the nations were arranged in these orders, was due to the difference of the capacity of each in receiving divine truth."1 Wicked Mohammedans were now thrown into swamps and bogs, and ungodly heathen into two great abysses; while the good of both religions, after they had seen their error, were united with Christians. By this means the prophecy was fulfilled, that many " shall come from the east, and from the west, and from the north, and from the south, and shall sit down in tha kingdom of God." The papists, who were represented as Babylonians, had continued their masses and worship of pictures down to the final judgment; they had their churches and cloisters; sent out their monks to convert the heathen; and held their councils, and the hke. Because of their external sanctity they were united with some societies of the lowest heaven, and by their unholy inner life they had communion with hell. But after the judgment of the year of 1757 was finished, those who, in the spirit of Babylon, had been consciously active in the suppression of the truth were thrust into the abyss of the sea, or into other abysses; but those were accepted, who, with an externally pious life, and with innocent errors, had inwardly adhered to the truth. These saved ones were sent into a special place, in order to be there instructed out of the Word by Protestant preachers, and to be received into heaven after this instruction. Heaven and hell, as has al ready been remarked, correspond perfectly with what we experience here.2 "In the spiritual world," says Swedenborg, 1 Gotiliche Offenbarungen, Vol. II. p. 335. * Ibid., p. 250. ZINZENDORF'S VISION OF THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 481 "everything appears which is in the natural world: Houses and palaces; pleasure-grounds and gardens, and trees of all kinds in them; cultivated fields and fallow lands; plains and meadows; large and small, cattle, — everything just as it is on earth, with only this difference: that all this is of spiritual origin, according to the law of correspondencies (established harmony). Thus, those who adhere to the good and true dweU in glorious palaces, around which there are pleasure- grounds, filled with trees; but those of an opposite character are shut up in houses of correction in hell, which have no windows, but only a Ught like an ignis fatuus; or they Uve in deserts and dwell in huts, around which there is no fruit- fulness, and where snakes, dragons, owls, and all such things exist as correspond to their evil nature. Between heaven and hell there is a place which is known as the world of spirits. Every person comes to it after death, and here a similar communion of one with another occurs to that among men on earth. Here, too, everything is correspondence. There are gardens, groves, forests, blooming and verdant fields, and beasts of different kinds, both tame and wUd, — everything according to the correspondence of its inclinations. I have often seen sheep and goats here, and also battles occurring between them. I have seen goats, with horns leaning for ward and backward, which rushed impetuously at the sheep. I have seen goats with two horns, with which they violently attacked the sheep; and when I reflected how it could be, I saw some contending with each other concerning active love and faith. I interpreted all this to mean that faith, separated from active love, was the goats, and that active love, whence faith proceeds, was the sheep. As I saw such things frequently afterward, I was assured that those who live by faith without active love are the goats." Swedenborg's writings were not generally known until after his death. Prelate Oetinger, who is already known to us as a disciple of Bengel, was the first to publish them in Ger many, in the year 1765. In the nineteenth century, another Wurtemberg scholar, the librarian Tafel, has expended great pains for the further 482 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. establishment of the Church of the New Jerusalem, as Swe denborg's disciples call themselves. Swedenborg himself or ganized no sect; but after his death, the so-called Philan- thropical and Exegetical Societies sprang up in London and Stockholm. Influential and cultivated people, rather than the common classes, united with them, — the reverse of which we have found to be the case with Methodism on its first ap pearance. It is very natural that a faith which hopes to find again in the tuture world only the glorification of the present, cannot recommend itself to that class of people who, living under disadvantageous ' circumstances here, are longing for deliverance from their present condition. Swedenborgianism is generally more speculative than practical, and can therefore calculate on only disciples who can take time and pains to speculate. The organizing power which Zinzendorf and Wesley had, stands in the background here, though it was not totally absent. The adherents of the Church of the New Jerusalem first entered into outward communion with a fixed ecclesi astical economy in the year 1787. Besides in Sweden and England, its doctrines soon gained believers in North America. The Swedenborgians even sent missionaries to Africa, for they held that in whatever country their church should be organ ized, those would be found there who already believed its opinions. But the Swedenborgians had this in common with Methodism : they were co-laborers in the effort to exterminate the slave-trade. It is remarkable how the doctrines of Swedenborg are gaining believers in the most recent time. Perhaps it is the quaint and peculiar mixture of imagination and reason, and the strangely ingenious air of authority which pervades the whole system, that enable it to address itself to the tastes of an age which, in other matters, loves what is piquant. We will willingly grant that great ideas, such as those of an internal connection of the visible and invisible worlds, underlie Sweden borgianism, and that some of its contradictions of ecclesias tical doctrine were not altogether without reason. Indeed, in the Swedenborgian doctrines, notwithstanding their odd mixture of Rationalism and Mysticism, there is a proof that the times, STILLING AND LAVATER COMPARED WITH SWEDENBORG. 483 unsatisfied with what was presented by the traditional authority of the church, longed for something new and fresh; and all those who did not otherwise unite with the skeptics, could find just as little pleasure in the thoughtless imitation of orthodox forms. We find something similar to this in Stilling and Lavater. We rank these two remarkable men, — who already greatly influenced the later period,— beside Swedenborg, not be cause they unconditionally accepted his system, but only be cause they possess in common with him that magical trait which ventures to look into the spirit- world and gain glimpses of eternity; because they believed in an interpenetration of the supernatural and the natural worlds; and because they likewise followed their imagination in their way, while Swe denborg foUowed his in his way. But while in Swedenborg everything took this magical direction, so that he seemed to have no remaining strength for practical work in the church, the observation of spirits by the two other men was only an external ray of their nature. In their real tendency of thought, they stood firmly upon the ground of the present world ; and upon this ground, in the midst of their generation, they labored in so many ways that they would have been worthy of respect without that magical characteristic. This last remark appUes especially to Lavater, who is very important in a practical view because of his piety and moral excellence as a man, as a preacher, and as a citizen. -Both Stilling' and Lavater are so well known in their outward Ufe and relations to the world that there is no need of any biography of them. Stilling's Youth and Pilgrimage is in everybody's hands. It constitutes in itself, as a literary production, a portion of Stilling's labors, and makes many things concerning him plain to us. When we learn how that man, born in Nassau, in the year 1740, arose from the hum blest circumstances to be a school-teacher, and afterwards professor and court-councilor, and how he owed the most of his prosperity to himself, or rather to that wonderful provi dence of God in whose arms he threw himself with true heroism, we must feel greatly prepossessed in his favor. Stilling 484 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. was brought into intimate connection with the Pietists, though without allowing himself to be molded into a fixed form by them. In his Theobald or the Fanatic, he portrayed the religious phenomena of his day as exhibited by the Inspired in the Wetterau, in Budingen, and other places; and he has characterized them so excellently, and with such great moder ation, that nobody will expect to find him a fanatic after reading this book. He valued child-like piety, which was especially expressed in an "undisturbed faith in God and in help coming directly from him," was confirmed by experience, and was so highly valued by even those whom we are accus tomed to regard as the most decided opponents of all fanati cism, — Goethe, for example. Stilling, in common with many pious people of that and of an earlier, period, believed in remarkable answers to prayer. We find numerously connected with him such examples as we have seen in Petersen, Bengel, and further back, in Luther; so that, to a certain degree, Stilling has become a proverb, as the representative of all those who rely upon remarkable answers to prayer in reference to external things. We see the same belief in the case of Lavater, who, when a boy, having made a mistake in his copy-book, was able to get relieved of it by the aid of prayer; and likewise in other matters he found that prayer removed the difficulty. We may pass any opinion we please on this faith, which can easily grow into a method and into something artificial, accord ing to circumstances and the disposition. But this much is certain : that, at a time when philosophy removed God further and still further from the world, and represented him as a mere being of thought outside the world and its relations, and removed him at the same time to the desert of an ab stract majesty and infinitude, — at such a time as this, faith in answer to prayer was the only link that united the pious people in the world with that far-removed God. It was the shortest practical way to obtain a comforting conviction that God is not separated from his people, but that he is near unto all who call upon him. If Stilling, Lavater, and others had contributed nothing elsft than the support of this specific SERVICE OF STILLING AND LAVATER TO THEIR AGE. 485 feith in prayer, they would thereby have been an important counterpoise to the increasing skepticism of the times' And, fortunately, they still had on their side some people, who, in reference to the historical features of Christianity, possessed a less positive faith. It was just that God-Father religion which had been too hastily attacked by Zinzendorf, —that faith in an overruling Providence, to whom we can commit all our destinies, — which was peculiar to the pious spirits of that day, and which still vitally appeared where the supports of historical faith already began to sink. It was this common God-Father religion which brought Lavater into the most harmonious communion of heart with Spalding and Zollikofer, and which gave to Gellert's writings an entrance to those classes who possessed in themselves but very few traces of the old faith. Many a pious, child-like soul could assent tp the miracles of God's providence in the present life, and to the miracles of prayer, and yet critically doubt the miracles of history; and many an one whose understanding would be perplexed over the ecclesiastical doctrine of the Son of God, the Trinity, original sin, and the atonement, would yet accept in other respects that Father to whom Christ has opened access.1 This is an important phenomenon. Herein that period is distinguished from ours, when faith in the personal and prayer-hearing God is often loosely held by those who, in other matters, know how to use rigidly orthodox language. Yet Lavater and Stilling did not confine themselves to a i mere God-Father faith. Lavater plainly and truly tells us, in his History of his Youth, that, when a child, he had no> idea of Christ, and that the New Testament had less influence on him than the Old.2 "Christ as Christ," says he, "was at that time neither dear nor repulsive to me. He was to me altogether a non-existent person, — namely, for the attach- * How impressively, for example, Campe, in his Theophron and other works, seeks to explain prayer as something as natural as it is possible! This bond of prayer is completely broken by Pantheism, — a system not a whit better than Deism, except in its forms, which assume a more ecclesiastical show. * Gessner, Lehensbeschreibwng, Vol. I. p. 23 f. Vol. I.— 32 483 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ment of my heart. My heart did not need at' that time ¦ a Christ, but only a prayer-hearing God." He therefore stood here on the same ground, when a child, with many pious men of that time. But when he became a man, his views were . different. He was then most intimately related with God; but he first became conscious of this intimate relation when he regarded himself as brought there by Christ. In a conversation which he had with, Zollikofer, on a journey to Waldshut, he thus expressed himself: "Men need not' only a God worthy of their reverence, but one whom they can regard as participating in their necessities. The eternal, invisible, supreme, and all-pervading Being of all beings can be adored, .at any rate, without Christ, by the wisest and most sensible beings. But he cannot be supplicated without him. . . . In Christ the incomprehensible and inconceivable Deity, who is infinitely exalted above the horizon of human conception, has become human. In him, Deity has become conceivable, perceptible, enjoyable, and adorable."1 Christ is the face of God, "in whom, more than in any other, or in all together, all the divine forces concealed in God and revealed in cre ation, are reflected." This reconciliation of divinity and humanity by Christ was regarded by Stilling and Lavater, and especially by the latter, as a living, continuous, and active force. To them, the chain of the mysterious and miraculous, which is interwoven in the Biblical history, and even has its origin there, also continues to the later times. This distinguishes them from ordinary orthodox writers, who limit the miraculous to the fixed bounds of the apostolic and earlier periods, and presuppose at the pres ent time a mechanism of forces similar to that believed by the Deists. In their opinion, the spiritual world is not removed, but only obscured, and faith alone is needed to remove the covering. By this means, it must be confessed, they were enticed into similar paths of poetic speculation with Sweden borg; and they were extreme and poetically fanatical. But while the understanding of the orthodox unceremoniously and arbitrarily severed the chain of the miraculous, without regard , * Gessner, Lebensbeschreibung, Vol. II. p. 175. VIEWS OF STILLING, LAVATER, AND SWEDENBORG. 487 to the finer and less prominent transitions which obliterate the visible limits of the miraculous and the natural, these men, on the other hand, extended this chain just as arbitra rily forward until it was lost in the hazardous, since they would restore by conjecture, and sometimes by an unaccount able self-deception, what had escaped the observation of care ful inquiry and impartial observation. Each one had here his favorite department. With Stilling, it was the theory of spirits; with Lavater, it was more the wonderful operations in the physical world, such as are said to have been accomplished by the priest Gassner. Both occupied themselves, according, to the example of Petersen, Bengel, and Swedenborg,, with the Apocalypse; and Lavater, in his Views into Eternity, ventured upon just such speculations as we have seen in Swedenborg, except that Lavater simply regards as conject ure what Swedenborg professed really to have beheld. Ac cording to Swedenborg, man's future state is quite similar to the present; similar, or rather, analogous employments, will be continued there, — for the day-laborer will be as indispensable there as the king.1 Probably all the arts which are useful to society will also be cultivated there ; men will also occupy palaces there, and have their places for meeting and enjoy ment ; they wiU likewise go on excursions into other parts of heaven and the world; and they will learn new languages, and cultivate poetry and music. " One will be engaged with the corporeal world, — with natural history or natural phUosophy,; another, with the examination and contemplation of spiritual forces, which have a great though invisible influence; another will investigate social relations; another, the history of the past; another, the present arrangements of Providence; and still another, the future events of the world. There will be teachers and learners, scholars more or less' sltiUful, and others who are ignorant when compared with them, etc."1 Who does not see that these and similar opinions go far beyond the warrant of Holy Scripture? But we cannot here fail tp see that such conjectures found a far wider reception at that time than would probably be the case now. As with faith in a per- 1 :See Aussichten in die Ewiglkit, p. 192 .ff. 488 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. sonal God, so was faith in personal duration and immortality still unshaken, to a great extent, in the minds of those who were in doubt on matters of a more historical character. It was not yet regarded the sign of an unphilosophical mind to speak of a future world,, for even unchristian phflosophers, such as Men delssohn, in his Phaedo and his Morning Hours, were em ployed with these ideas.1 While Stilling and Lavater attacked orthodoxy by their bold ideas, we must yet regard them, in comparison with the skeptical theology, as conservative minds, though in a somewhat different way. While Stilling, espe cially in his later works, as in his Home-Sickness and The Gray Man, experiences the deepest pain at the decline of Christianity, there arises from Lavater the joyous shout of victory,, which is hoping to gain all triumphs by the power of faith and love. While Stilling, notwithstanding his isolated physical and sphitual good deeds toward many of his suffering brethren, did not, on the whole, engage in any connected practical labors in the kingdom of God, Lavater, with all his -hopeful views of the future, stood fast upon the earth, and v was united to his parish as a true and zealous lover of souls. While Stilling only seemed to know a heavenly fatherland, and wrote, among other things, in a student's family-record: "Blessed are the home-sick, for they shall get home," La vater, on the ether hand, rejoiced in his earthly home; was proud of it in the true sense of the word ; regarded himself as a free Swiss; and labored in his appointed sphere as preacher and poet. . Lavater was in every respect more versatile than Stilling, and his Christianity was more joyous and healthy. " Can it be repeated and pondered enough," says Lavater, in his Pocket- Bible for Sufferers, "that Joy, nothing but joy, is the design of the Guide of men; that joy, nothing but ceaseless joy, is 1 Comp. also Engel: Wir werden uns wiedersehn, and similar works. It is now universally acknowledged, that, in such writings, much was used as proof which was not such in reality. But should the thing it self go to the ground with the argument for it? Is not that levity with which men now deny truth, with all the boast of dialectics, far more contemptible than the logical deception into which these men were led? LAVATER AND ZINZENDORF COMPARED. 489 the only aim of all the suffering which is entailed upon us? Jesus and Joy-Giver are perfectly synonymous expressions. He who regards Jesus as other than a Joy-Giver, or the Gospel other than as a message of joy, or suffering as anything else than a fountain of joy, is neither acquainted with God, nor Christ, nor the Gospel. God is love; love cannot do otherwise than love; and God himself is the most vital disposition of love. Love and pure joy are the same." This prominence which Lavater gives to joy is in perfect harmony with his idea of Christ already mentioned. It was the richest fountain of all his spiritual enjoyments. It con trolled his whole Ufe. Hegner says of him: "The divinity of Christ, this all-prevailing power in heaven, on earth, and in all possible relations, was his only theme, — the one he taught and ampUfied in his words and writings."1 He says of himself: " My gray hairs shall not go down to the grave until I have proclaimed to some chosen ones in soul, ' He is more certain than I am.'"2 He, like Zinzendorf, could say of himself: "I have but one passion, and it is He, — only He." Also like the founder of the Moravian Brotherhood, he would know Christ personaUy, and stand in a hearty, internal relation of love and friendship with him. But in Lavater, the sensuous, — which is repulsive to us in Zinzendorf, — retires, while the spiritual and the ideal come into prominence. Lavater never draws Christ down to himself, which is sometimes the case with the Moravian leader; but he soars toward Christ; reaches forward to him, like Peter battling with the waves; and strives to find his true Ego in him. Such a view of Christ, which does not tear itself ideaUstically loose from historical ground, did not substitute a seU-fabricated fancy-picture for the his torical Christ; nor was it a merely historical view; but it contemplated Christ as ever-renewed in humanity, in order to take shape in us. The view of a Christ whose heaven is not only above the stars but also in the breast of man, who not only once restored the blind and lame, and raised the dead to life, but still ever brings the light of life to all, pervades 1 Beitrage zur niihern Kenntniss Lavater's. p. 267. Leipzig, 1836. * Ibid., p. 261. 490 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. all with the power of life, and satiates and quickens all, was at that time altogether new, — a gospel heard by many for the first time. What we now regard as the substance of Christianity,—: as its peculiarity and privilege above all other positive re ligions, — the innermost pervasion of humanity and divinity by Christ (though we do not implicitly adhere always to Lavater's bold expressions, nor grant all his conclusions from them), appeared to that period as mere fanaticism ; and many openly said, that the intellectual man could accomplish in finitely more if he were less credulous, and did not adhere so implicitly to his Christ.1 While, however, shallow skeptics scoffed at Lavater's enthusiasm, — I need only remind you of Nicolai, who treated him very badly, — many others, such as Goethe, knew how to do justice to this enthusiasm as some thing beautiful and peculiar, though they could not unite with him in his views. "It elevates the soul," writes Goethe to Lavater, "and gives occasion for the most beautiful contem plations, when you are seen to grasp the glorious crystal- clear vessel with the greatest zest; to fill it with your crim son draught; and to sip with joy the foam which overflows its margin. I willingly grant you this enjoyment, for you would be miserable without it."2 We have not here to do with Goethe's objections. It is, indeed, remarkable enough how just these two men, Stilling and Lavater, made a very favorable impression on Goethe, in contradistinction to those other skeptical men of the period who were compelled to ac knowledge his preeminence. But we have reached with La vater the point where the different tendencies of the times unite in one personage; and it is froni him that we can best find our way back again to those men whom we left, — the exponents and promoters of modern skepticism. i 1 See Zimmermann's Letter in Hegner's Beitrage, etc., p. 71. ¦'s Beitrage, etc., p. 141. LECTURE XXII. FURTHER TREATMENT OF LAVATER. — HIS RELATION TO THE SKEPTICAL TENDENCIES. — HIS RELATION TO SPALDING, ZOLLIKOFER, AND OTHERS. — HIS POSITIVE CHRISTIANITY. — ' PFENNINGER S JEWISH LETTERS. — LAVATER AS A PREACHER. — STEFFENS' TESTIMONY CONCERNING HIM. — LAVATER AS A RELIGIOUS POET. — REFERENCE TO HERDER. — CONCLUSION. In the last lecture we treated of Lavater in connection with Stilling, and concluded with him the series of men whom we must regard as the defenders of a more strictly positive faith in revelation, in opposition to the religious illuminism of the century. To-day we will still delay awhile at that remarkable personage, Lavater, whom, on account of his versatility, we are not able to include within the narrow limits of a given category, for every one who is acquainted with the life and writings of the man will at once confess that Lavater, with all his decided faith, and with his strictly defined Christian conviction, was a man of the later time, a man of the century, a man of progress. As. far as our times, in opposition to the seventeenth century, with its Middle Age forms, are characterized by a pertain independence and freer dom of thought, by a decided antipathy to all slavery, evil customs, traditional prejudices, and by that we call liberalism, Lavater was unquestionably one of the first liberal minds who defended the ideas of the later period. His daring spirit was exhibited when a boy toward an unjust teacher, and when a young man toward a severe sheriff (Grebel), and by his songs, " William Tell" and "Unite, Gallant Swiss Peasants." 492 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. It is also abundantly proved by many other facts. Indeed, the spirit with which, in later years, he defended the old Swiss freedom against a new form which was forced upon the country, has placed him much higher, particularly in reference to poUt ical sentiment, in the eyes of those who will not permit themselves to be bribed by mere party-names. Lavater most intimately united humanity, — in which we recognize a further characteristic of the new period, — with this liberalism. Everything which makes man for man, and helps him to the consciousness of his human dignity, had a priceless value in his eyes. His much-discussed, extolled, and derided Physiognomy, which we cannot treat in full here, had the benevolent purpose of advancing philanthropy, and, from aU the complicated and distorted features which have ex pressed upon the human countenance the displeasure of nature, or outward circumstances, or the power of passion, ever to find out, on the other hand, the nobility that there really is in the human face. ' Lavater took a hearty interest in the progress promised by the educational system of Basedow and others. No one could be a more inveterate opponent of the old pedantry and treadmill-method than he. Likewise, wherever possible, he aided in founding beneficent and humanitarian associations in his country. Iselin of Basle, Pfeffel of Colmar, and many others, were in this respect his friends and co-laborers.1 In every department of Ufe, Lavater was among those who looked forward and pressed forward; and therefore, no one should wish to make him the apostle of retrogression, or a child of darkness. Tolerance, the great watchword of the century, was so honored and defended by him that the very tolerance which he exhibited toward the Catholics, and the friendship that he entertained toward worthy men of this church, w:.s blamed by others, — aud Jesuitism and God alone knew what was meant by it. But notwithstanding this connection of Lavater with the 1 Comp. my treatise: Jakob Sarasin und seine Freunde, ein Beitrag zur Litteraturgeschichte, republished in the Beitrage zur vaterlandischen Geschichte by the Historical Society of Basle. Vol. IV. Basle, 1850. LAVATER AND SPALDING. 493 ideas of the later time, he sustained a Christian and religious relation at the side of those who adhered to what was old and handed down by the fathers, in opposition to the new1 . wisdom. We here see him supported by such friends as cooperated with him in the same thought and spirit, — on the one hand by the worthy Jacob Hess, afterwards Superintend ent, and by Pfenninger on the other. Yet he was by no means led to contradict himself. In all other departments his views were ever free and impartial; he did not painfully cling to the mere letter of religion, or obstinately oppose all religious or theological innovations. Lavater did not stand aloof from them, but honestly appreciated the good in them. His free inquiry, and unwillingness to accept anything on merely human authority, proved him to be the true Protestant. His faith was self-active, won by conflict, and therefore conscientious. What appears truly important in him, and what renders our examination of that period more easy, is Lavater's intimate relation to the men whom we have already regarded as the defenders of the new theol ogy of the century. The venerable Spalding, the very man who systematically introduced the negative thinking into the church (while he was personally pervaded by the highest piety), was young Lavater's ideal in the period of his theo logical preparation, by which he not only ardently desired to be developed, but personally to contemplate it and be per vaded by it. When Spalding was living in the Pomeranian town of Barth, Lavater left Zurich, in company with his friends Fiissli and Felix Hess, for a special pilgrimage' to this pious, mild, and clear preacher; and he spent really festal days in his society. Both Spalding and Lavater, in their Autobiographies and Journals, speak of this interview with such a love, kindliness, and enthusiasm as are only possible with men of noble thought and tender feehng^ Spalding, the elder man and the quiet observer, had real' joy in the young men who spent nine full months as his guests. Lavater, then a young man of only twenty-one years, 1 Comp. Spalding's Leben, p. 63 ff. Gessner, Leben Lavater's, Vol. I. pp.. 183, 209, 251 ff. 494 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. was the oracle and guide of the two other friends, yet with out betraying the least appearance of it. "Never until that . time," says Spalding, " did I find in one of his age such a purity of soul, such a vivacity and activity of moral feehng, such an open-hearted effusion of , the deepest experience, . . . such a joyous mildness and attractiveness under all circumstances, and, in short, such a noble and captivating Christianity. And this warm life of his heart was yet at that time so completely under the control of an enlightened, con siderate, and quiet reason^ that there was not the least per ceptible trace of a leaning toward fanaticism." From these last words of Spalding we may infer that, at that time, young Lavater did more homage to the negative Christianity of reason, as desired by the theology of illumin ism and agreeable to Spalding. But he afterward exhibited a tendency quite opposed to the earlier one, and was con verted from his neology to orthodox faith. But we find no trace of this in Lavater's life. He had a firm Christian con viction even when he sat in wonder at the feet of Spalding, and received every word of that worthy man almost as an apostolic utterance; and Spalding substantially shared this Christian conviction with him so soon as he discovered the deepest feelings of his heart. It was only in their manner of rendering account to the reason for it that the two men were different. This difference very naturally became more decided when Lavater reached riper years. But their former relations were by no means disturbed by it; with the most antagonistic views of the two men, the old friendship and reciprocal confidence did not cease." "We occupy unlike places," Spalding wrote to Lavater, "and we must therefore take a different view; but the time of Ught will come, when we shall be completely united. We would seek together, with true hearts, God who is the Truth, and we shall finaUy be certain to find it in him, although by different paths. Dear friend! Under this name, in all its deepest meaning, that can and should stand firm whieh would otherwise be alienation and misunderstanding between us. We both have one final purpose, of which I am certain in my heart and LAVATER AND THE RATIONALISTIC THEOLOGIAN^. 495 before God; and notwithstanding the different ways by which we must now go, because we cannot pursue a uniform path, we shall again come together at the end. It is, at least, my consolation and my joy to think "so."1 Verily, when we reflect upon the mischievous theological prize-fighting of the earlier period, when men condemned each other to the lowest hell on account of differences of opinion; and when we call to mind the great bitterness, heat of passion, and suspicious and false conclusions, which were caused by the later controversy between the Rationalists and Super- naturalists, we must take heart on meeting with such lan guage as this. It is the benefit of such true tolerance as should exist among evangelical Christians and men of culture that they do not conceal the antagonisms which are unavoid able with different methods of thought, and that they discuss them openly and fight through them, but at the same time respect the convictions of opponents, and know how to regard tbem as great and noble. It is as certain that the essence of religion does not consist in formulas, nor the kingdom of God in words, but in power, as that between those who are of honest opinion there is and must be some other ground of agreement than that of a literal and uniform confession. Alas, why is this path of agreement so seldom taken; why is, hatred so much fostered, instead of love planted; and why do people think that by tbis course they render God a service? Lavater stood upon a similar footing not only with Spalding and his worthy son, but also with other men whom we have found on the side of rationalistic theology, — with Diterich, Zollikofer, Garve, and Jerusalem? In regard to Gassner's History of Miracles, in which Lavater exposed many weak points, he had enough doctrinal impartiality to request of Semler, who did not believe in demons, his opinion on that priest's exorcisms.2 What orthodox zealot or con tracted Pietist would have done more at that time, or even now? It has been alleged as intolerance in Lavater that he wished to proselyte Mendelssohn, the Jew, to Christianity. But 1 Comp. the Letters in Hegner, pp. 31, 78, 100. * Gessner, Vol. II. p. 206. 496 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. ' , though his attempts at conversion failed, Mendelssohn's respect for his personal character did not cease, for he thus wrote to him: "So far as I am removed from you in my View of the truths of faith, and impossible as it seems to me that we shall ever , unite in religious matters, this want of harmony is not of the least influence upon my sentiments, and I honor none the less your exalted talents and stiU more exalted heart."1 Lavater continued in the most intimate bonds of friendship with the painter Fussli, of London, and with Zimmermann, physician to Frederick the Great, who shared in general the religious views of his king ; and he took aU they said without feeling the least offended at their freedom, and still less con demning them at heart. Zimmermann thus wrote to him once very boldly: "H you had not been under the influence of Pietists, ascetics, and fanatics, I positively avow that you would be recognized as one of the greatest perceivers of truth; and I shall live and die with the thought that your freedom from them would not have endangered your salvation." 2 I have already mentioned his relation to Goethe. This was subsequently disturbed, but through no fault of Lavater. In general, when intolerance did appear in relation to Lavater, it was exhibited by the skeptics, who boasted of their tolerance. The most remarkable of all is, that C. F. Bahrdt wreaked his vengeance on him, and in a way that one would least expect. Bahrdt, who, as we know, played the orthodox theologian in his earliest period, sought to bring Lavater's orthodoxy under suspicion, while it was this very orthodoxy of Lavater/ which was censured in the most cruel manner by the Universal German Library and by the wild horde of skeptics of the day.3 But Lavater was as far removed from indifference to ward religious forms ¦ as from intolerance. He remained a firm believer in Christianity and in the Scriptures; but he' 1 Hegner, p. 12. ' Idem, p. 36. Campe wrote to him in a similar spirit, though he reproached his faith in miracles in bitter language, and wondered how a man of such great intellectual capacity could, and should, think as he did._ Hegner, pp. 186, 189. " Comp. Gessner, Vol. I. p. 215. lAvaters apparent inconsistency. ' 497 could always distinguish a man from his system and his doc trines ; and though he might reject and oppose the latter, he yet loved a person so long as he could discover candor in him. The attacks upon the historical foundation of Christianity, as made by the Wolfenbuttel Fragmentist, deeply affected his heart, and so inflamed him that he gave expression to his feelings before the Zurich Synod of 1780. He could not with hold himself from attacking in strong language the timid de fence of Semler, the efforts of Steinbart and Teller, ahd^ in deed, the whole neological tendency ; but especially from warn ing the Swiss church against the poison of skepticism, which, under the vaU of hypocrisy, threatened to pervade it and the people. Lavater himseU furnishes us with the key to this apparently inconsistent course when he says in his Pontius Pilate: "To me, a man, John Caspar Lavater, every man has unobstructed access. I can oppress no one personally, even in appearance, because he does not think with me, unless he give decided proof of wicked perversity and violence. Every one has free access to me, from the most inactive Quietist to the most sanctimonious Pietist, from the unfigurative Mystic to the most imaginative Moravian, and from Socinians and Deists to the most decided atheists; whatever has human form and human character has a claim to my humanity. Whoever comes to me cannot be repelled by me, unless he comes m the capacity of a Christian brother, and yet rejects the doctrine of Christ positively and unmistakably. If this one come as a member of the society which recognizes Christ and honors the authority of him and his disciples as God's oracles, I can not receive him as such.1 ... If he do not come as such, he declares himself no Christian. If he would be called a Christian, and yet denies that Jesus is the Messiah and Lord, he may be whatever be will, — I will not disturb his freedom of will, of faith, or of thought."2 "Whoever loves Christ dearly," he » It may be contended here : What is authority, and how far is it de pendent externally on the letter of the Scriptures, etc? But a soul filled with Christian love could very soon have come to an understanding with Lavater. * Gessner' Vo1' "• V 355' 498 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. says elsewhere, in reference to the charge of his leaning to ward Catholicism, "and heartily calls him Lord, and con forms to his doctrine, is a Christian and a saint, ^whether he be called a Jesuit, an anti-Catholic, a disciple of reason, or a fanatic." x , What Lavater reprobated in neology was the dishonesty with which many would pervert the Bible, and foist their own views into 'it. Far dearer to him was the avowed Deist, who confessed himself one, and voluntarily renounced the Christian name. However, he gladly changed his opinions on certain persons, as he did with regard to Semler, with whose candor he declared that he was far more favorably impressed after becoming personally acquainted with him.2 With Lavater's humanity and tolerance there was united also a liberal moral view of life, which was far removed from pre cise Pietism, Puritanism, and Methodism. He was buoyantly humorous, and loved sport and cheerful conversation. But his refined taste for art and nature, and his love of beauty, aesthetics, and harmony, were all the more remarkable because people of these qualities are often not of strict faith. Lavater passed quite a different opinion from Wesley on playing, re laxation, the training of children, friendship, and social life.3 1 Gessner, Vol. III. p. 24. 2 Idem, p. 45. 8 [It cannot be said of Wesley, after his ascetic and youthful period, which was before his heart was "strangely warmed" in Aldersgate- Street Chapel, that he held harsh, and narrow views on innocent social enjoyments. As to his humor, Stevens says: "A fine humor pervaded the nature of Wesley, and often gave a readiness and pertinency to his words. The devout Thomas Walsh, morbidly scrupulous, complained in a letter to him, that among the 'three or four persons that tempted him to levity, you, sir, are one by your witty proverbs.' Wesley's humor, however, enhanced the blandness of his piety, and enabled him sometimes to convey reproof in a manner which could hardly be resented with ill temper." History of Methodism, Vol. II. p. 385. — Whatever fan cied contrast there was between Lavater and Wesley in respect to their enjoyment of social and domestic life, is less attributable to their re spective characters than to their providential domestic relations; for, while Wesley's wife proved a singularly unfitting companion, seldom has a parsonage been more worthily adorned, or a pastor's life more devot edly shared and supplemented, than by Anna Lavater. — J. F. H.] LAVATER'S MODERNIZATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 499 We will conclude our description of Lavater by a few words on him as a preacher and a Christian poet. In both these respects he was original, and dependent on no school, or model, or theory. On the whole, he shared with his revered friend Spalding, an.d with many of his period, the opinion that Bib lical ideas, which are often misunderstood, and so handed from mouth to mouth and from generation to generation, shoidd be translated into the thought of our century, and should by this means become accessible to men. Indeed, he so far favored a modernization of Christianity, in one respect, that he published a number of proverbs, as Christ might possibly have spoken them ; and his friend Pfenninger furnished in his Jewish Letters a sort of Christian romance, in which he made the men and women of the time of Jesus write letters to each other, just as sentimental men and women of. Zurich in the eighteenth century would have corresponded. This modernization of Christianity deeply pervaded the times, but it was adopted by Lavater and Pfenninger on al together different grounds from Bahrdt or Teller. While the latter men would imprint upon Christianity the stamp of com monness, Lavater and Pfenninger attempted all the more to give our period a secure Christian impress, so as to lift Christianity from its oriental vestments and place it upon the ground of universal humanity, and by this means to lessen the sale of Christian ideas. While the skeptics, and even Spalding among them, regarded modern Christianity rather as a purely comprehensible and abstract fact, and excluded every con tribution of the imagination, Lavater and Pfenninger, like Elopstock, thought it best to render aid by the western imagination. They made Christianity not only accessible to the modern understanding but to the. modern feeling. This likewise holds true of Stilling and his Christian romances. Lavater's sermons were not mere treatises, but most ferveilt and gushing effusions, and related not only to general 'truths, which might be preached in any place and at any time, but were adapted to every time, place, and individual. I might say that every sermon of Lavater was specially for the occasion. Particularly those deUvered during the Swiss Revolution bore 500 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. this character; they are scenes in the history of the period. By this desire to use every occasion to influence immediately the time and circumstances we must explain also his frequent sermons on his travels, yet without our being compelled to admit the charge of vanity and love of popularity,— though we would not , absolve him from the love of observation and prominence, nor from his other human weaknesses. It will be of interest to hear a younger contemporary of Lavater, and a witness still living, speak of the impression which his sermons produced upon the Northern Germans, and even upon foreigners. Steffens relates the following in his Autobiography: "It now happened that Lavater visited his prominent Christian friends in Holstein, and thence departed to spend some weeks in Copenhagen. Of course, he was not unknown to us already. We were acquainted with some of his writings. His Physiog nomy had been read by us with much interest ; his attempt to convert Moses Mendelssohn had excited our interest; and we knew the passion of some in their devotion to him and of others in opposition to him. He was the first important character of note who came into our midst from the spiritually excited German sphere, and we awaited his arrival with great interest. He preached in the Reformed Church, and I both saw and heard him. His figure, as it still appears before me, was highly interesting. The tall, slender man slightly stooped , in walking; his physiognomy was extremely intellectual, and his sharp features gave testimony of an excited past, and of inner struggles; and his eyes flashed fervor, brilliance, and clearness. As well as I remember, he appeared to me older than he could have been at that time; for I find that he was then fifty-two years of age. The small Reformed Church was crowded, and a solemn quiet pervaded the assembly. We expected, of course, a harsh pronunciation. Some of the German physicians had attempted to imitate the Swiss dialect, but the contrast with the prevailing pronunciation was the more remarkable, since the soft Danish in Copenhagen seemed still more weakened. When, therefore, the famous man's sharp voice, that clave to the throat, and his hollow, piercing tones STEFFENS ON LAVATER'S PREACHING. 501 were heard, they made such an impression upon me that I almost failed to catch his prayer. I was compelled to listen to his sermon with the most careful attention in order to understand it. Now, it is very remarkable how this sermon won me and held me spell-bound. He not only expressed the confidence of faith, but also the deep and overpowering feel ings of the heart. It seemed to me that I was hearing for the first time the voice for which I had been longing. His sermon treated on prayer. That inward and deeply concealed, yet pious Ufe of my childhood, which I had enjoyed in the quiet room of my mother, and which profoundly influenced my inmost soul, but could only be gently whispered exter nally, now seemed to awaken me, a slumberer, from my long sleep, as with a voice of thunder. With that overpowering truth which can only be portrayed by one who speaks aloud his inward experience, he described those outward and inward struggles by which victory can only be won through prayer. His language, which seemed to me so repulsive at the be ginning, was now more beautiful, clear, and inspiring; it seemed to me to be in possession of such a Uving force as would be impossible to any other. When he had described the con dition of inward hopelessness, he suddenly restrained himself, and then exclaimed in a loud voice: 'Pray!' (Battet!). The 'a' was pronounced almost hke the diphthong; the harsh pro nunciation doubled the 't;' and yet the word was so uttered that it had a wondrous power. It called aloud,— yea, it broke into my inmost soul. I have never been able to re peat it without experiencing at least something of the deep impression at that time made upon me."1 Lavater occupies a peculiarly important place in the cluster of Christian poets of the eighteenth century. In a certain sense, he is the medium between the poets of the Pietistic school,— Tersteegen, Freylinghausen, Woltersdorf, and Hiller, on the one hand, and the reflective poets, — such as Gellert, —on the other. Like Gellert, Lavater also belongs to tbose poets with whom personal piety, and the impression proceed ing from it, allow much to be overlooked which is defective 1 Was ich erlebte, Vol. II. p. 178. Vol. 1—33 502 HISTORY OF THE eHURCH. In form. But while in Gellert the rational system of moral izing frequently prevails, in Lavater, with his reflections, there also prevailed imagination and feeling, though some times in an unartistic manner, and in a method more prosaic than poetical." He frequently alternates the pathos of Cramer and Klopstock, to which he soared even in calm passages, which were more suitable to a sermon than a hymn. His larger poem, Jesus the Messiah, was a weak imitation of Klopstock (an iliad after the manner of Homer); but his Book of Two Hundred Hymns, together with many other hymns and deliberative verses which so easily flowed from his lips and his pen, was very enlivening to many a heart, especially in the sick room and upon the sick bed. These hymns will, therefore, ever be of practical value in this respect, while only a few are adapted to the church, —even those which he wrote and rewrote for that purpose. It has been remarked that Lavater was neither a good prose-writer nor a good poet; that his prose is too figurative, spasmodic, unsystematic and illogical; that his poetry, on the other hand, — though single parts are truly poetical, — is too drawling and verbose, and the versification rugged and harsh; and that his prose mounts up into the air, while his poetry sometimes creeps upon the earth, or even sinks down into it. The remark is true in part. But what we have said of his ser mons appUes also here : Even his poems were poems for the occasion; they were not pieces of art, and could not be such. John Caspar Lavater was the same under all circumstances; and as there is truth in the oft-repeated proverb: "The style is the man," so is it in this instance. If he wrote letters,, sermons, poems, contemplations, journals, or whatever he wished, and communed with his God, his friends, or. himself, he represented himself just as he was; and though we can not exempt him from vanity, we shall never find with it that affectation and ornamentation which are often united with, it. Naturalness, sincerity, freedom of spirit, and a truthful rep resentation of himself, constituted the fundamental feature of his character; and just here lies the importance and great- HARBINGERS OF THE PERIOD OF RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT. 503 ness of the man,— the piety of his heart and the exalted gifts of his mind. With StilUng and Lavater we have already transgressed, by from one to two decades, the bounds which we bad assigned for our general task. While we have seen young men still surrounded by individuals who have already been known to us by our former account of them, we find them placed as men in a time which we can regard as a new period, dating from the French Bevolution; and in this period Lavater first truly developed his Christian greatness of character, which he even sealed with martyrdom. But with this new period there is also afforded a convenient resting-place, where we can break off the thread which, for the present, we cannot extend. We have introduced Stilling and Lavater into these lectures . because we could comprehend with them, to a certain degree, the series of men, who, counted from Bengel's time, have contributed to bring to the living recognition of the century, the positive power of Christianity, in opposition to destructive and dissolving forces. But we have also with them, and especially with Lavater, passed over the barriers which had been erected between this tendency and the skeptical one, so far as we see the versatile Lavater himself taking part in that which we hear lauded as the fruit of that skepti cism.- With him, 'indeed, we have introduced a new series of such men, who, placing themselves above the previous antagonism, struck a new path, brought to pass the new period in the strict sense of the word, — the period of relig ious development, — and who strove to harmonize the under standing and spirit, history and philosophy, outward and inward communication, revelation and reason, and Christianity and humanity,— or by whatever terms we would denominate, real or supposed antagonisms. But we cannot follow up this new series of development, in which so many other im portant phenomena of the final years of the eighteenth century, and of the first of the nineteenth, took place. I would like to have made you acquainted with the man who seems to have been chosen, still more than Lavater, as the representative of a tendency which accommodated antago- 504 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. nisms, and satisfied the claims of the mind and of the heart. He united in fervor, Ufe, religion and poetry with Lavater; in calmness, sobriety, transparency and mUdness with Spal ding; and in original boldness of thought and in sharp, acute polemics, wherever it seemed necessary, with Lessing. He was a man who, after one has examined and ventured to use the words, was an intellectual Supernaturalist, or a thoroughly orthodox Rationalist, or a restorer of the shaken faith in revelation, or a hero of illuminism; but, in every case, he must be regarded as the real apostle of humanity, and as a vastly comprehensive and animating spirit. We mean John Gottfried Herder, of whom Lavater himself said: "I would call him a professor of the world and a prophet of human ity," * and who recognized in Lavater a pure, noble and devout soul, and felt rejoiced in having met him during his earthly pilgrimage.2 But I must content myself, for the present, with having only announced this name, with which a whole world of new ideas is connected. For in the short space of time yet allotted to me, I would like to sav something satisfactory, — something rising high above mere admiration. I would speak of Herder without at the same time invoking that consteUation of minds who have introduced the new and modern period (in the strict sense of the word), of which we have thus far been able to obtain only single anticipating glimpses. I close with the wish, that, by these lectures, I may have contributed my part to the elevation and vitality of, and interest in, the cause of Protestantism and of pure Christiamty in general. But what should still further strengthen and elevate you and me is the observation, that the destinies of the future, which we can only approximately divine from the past, rest in a higher Hand, — a Hand which wUl conduct aU the de velopments of history to a harmonious solution, and wiU sift the wheat from the tares on the great day of the harvest. 1 Gessner, Vol. II. p. 369. » Hegner, p. 27. END OF VOL. I. DR. HURST'S GREAT WORK ON RATIONALISM. JSt«to«g of itatiottaUsm; EMBRACING A SURVEY OF THE PRESENT STATE OF PROTESTANT THEOLOGY, WITH APPENDIX OF LITERATURE. By JOHN F. HURST, D.D. Revised Edition. One Vol. 8vo., $3.50. • -? In this work Mr. Hurst has confined himself tp the literary department and theological aspecTs of Rationalism ; which, in spite of appearances to the contrary, he believes has outwitted itself and is staggering to its doom. It embraces, as the title imports, a survey of the present state of Protestant theology throughout Christendom — an analysis and historical sketeh 6f English, French, Dutch, American, and German Rationalism — an outline of the various schools and systems of i philosophy and theology which have ' arisen since the Reformation ; including notices of the various men who have figured most conspicuously in the realm of thought — a survey of the condi tion of the Christian Church at various periods and in different countries, and the influence of deistic and rationalistic thought upon it. The tone of the work is cheerful and hopeful. The defenders of the truth have been more numerous and learned than their assailants ; human reason has proved, under this scathing fire, unable to grapple with the deepest needs of our humanity. This able and scholarLy work has been republished in England. and has already passed to the third edition in this country. CRITICAL NOTICES. "This is a history of Rationalism, written from the orthodox stand-point. It evinces much learning and discrimination on the part of the author, and is thoroughly fair and dispassion ate in tone. In nearly all cases, the views of the men whose works are commented upon are given in their own language, thus rendering it evident that they are in no respect, misrepre sented. It is much more compactly and closely written than is Lecky's recently -published work on the same subject, s and, though less pretentious in its style, is really an abler book." — N. Y. Independent. "The most comprehensive history of Rationalism extant ; its tone is catholic and evangeli cal, and its statements in general trustworthy. The author, a young minister of the Method ist Episcopal Church, who has spent some time in Germany, clearly sees the issue about to be joined, and has rendered an important service in indicating the course Vjf the more recent . scepticism, and the spirit in which it should be met. The work is a valuable contribution to our literature."— Theological Ecleltic. u The whole work does credit to Mr. Hurst's candor and spirit of fairness, The work closes with a full bibliography of the literature of Rationalism, that at once shows how wide has been the range of the investigations of the author, and gives the means of following him in his researches to those who desire to examine for themselves."— A''. Y. Times. " Students in theology and preachers of the Word, can find nowhere fflse, in so brief a compass, a compendium so useful as this work will be found to be, to those who want a 'con nected view pf the rise, progress, and present state of Rationalism." — Christian JnteUi-' gencer. " These six hundred pages are most refreshing and satisfactory. They are just what ever; ' minister and thoughtful Christian in these times must have in his library."— Boston Recorder. Opinions of the .European Press on Hurst's History of Rationalism. " We are under the deepest obligations to Dr. Hurst for this valuable contribution to our literature, and, having some familiarity with the subject, we do not know where we should look, either at home or abroad, for a book to take its place." — The \English Independent. " 'History of Rationalism' seems rather more like the title of a library, or at least a goodly row of books, than that of a single volume. Yet Dr. Hurst offers us a History of Rationalism in one octavo of five hundred pages, embracing, too, a survey of the present state of Protestant Theology, with an appendix of literature on this momentous subject. . . . All these wide and discursive topics Dr. Hurst handles fairly and intelligently, and has made a very readable and useful hand-book out of a tough and too often dry subject." — Church and State Review. "This compact and well constructed volume, which is 'revised and- enlarged from the third American edition,1 is a wonder of theological study and analysis. The amount of reading which, must have been encountered to fit the author for his work, is equal to the mastery of a huge library. And all this labor has not been thrown away. The result is not only astonishing — it is practically useful. The- distinction is an important one. The late Baron Bunsen, in his various publications, exhibited a marvellous amount of learning, laboriously acquired ; but, on the whole, the world would have been quite as well off if he had never printed a single page. We cannot say the same of the present book. It is a work that the student of theology will not only find it advisable to read, but to keep by him for nature reference." — Morning Advertiser. " The volume before us is most valuable. It gives by far the most fair and comprehen sive view of the whole subject. It is, in truth, a history of the Rationalistic idea, in all its phases, as it has appeared in the works of the great theological writers of Christendom. We have no work like it. It takes a place entirely unoccupied in theological literature, and fulfils a mission exclusively its own. Theological students must get it," — Homilist. "The book is written in an admirable temper, charitable in most of its judgments, and orthodox in the Protestant sense of the word." — Churchman. "Useful as a store-house of materials of religious thought" — Speclator. " His book displays the power of grasping doctrine." — Nonconformist. - Dr. J. J. Van Oosterzee, of the University of Utrecht, Holland, says : — " I thank the author for his interesting account of the state of the Church in Holland, as given in his * History of Rationalism,' which I have read with great interest." " The author writes without any bitterness, and, so far as we have observed, states with perfect fairness the various phases of Rationalist opinion, often in the exact words of their authors." — Saturday Review. ''The author skilfully shows the filiation of the Rationalistic school, which took its rise under Semler." — British Quarterly^ July, 1867. " It will be found an exceedingly useful manual of information. It is written from the Evangelical point of view, but with a full purpose of tracing the growth, and of fairly esti mating the magnitude of the evil called Rationalism." — Westminster Review, April, 1867. " The tone is decidedly devout and evangelical, but the range of inquiry is most compre- , hensive, and the general impression produced by the volume healthy and clear. Every- body'is here, from Baruch Spinoza to Bishop Colenso. . . . One of the most precious results of this volume is the clearness with which the author teaches us to recognize the 'bright side.' . . . Apart from the spirit of the work, which is throughout most com mendable, the tacts are of the greatest value. They help us to understand at once the effects of the modern school of thought, and they show what results these effects have pro duced. In short, we cannot easily conceive a better mental or spiritual discipline for young men than to study and master these subjects. We might add more, for this notice does very scanty justice to the interest and scholarly qualities of the volume, but we trust it will soon find its way into the hands of many of our readers." — Dr. Angus in The Freema?i. THE POPULAR EDITION OF yroude's 3$istory of England, From the Fall of Wolsey to the Death of Elizabeth. In Twelve Volumes l2mo., $1.25 per Volume. New York, October, 1869. Messrs. Charles Scribner 8^ Co. will complete FROUDE'S HISTORY OF ENG LAND, by the republication of the eleventh and twelfth volumes early in 1870 ; and in view of the marked favor with which this great work has been received in the more ex pensive form, they have determined to re-issue it at a price which shall secure it that extended sale to which its acknowledged merits so fully entitle it. THE POPULAR EDITION OF FROUDE'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND is printed upon white paper, and it is substantially and attractively bound. While it con tains all the matter of the Library Edition, it is sold at the very low price of $1.25 per Volume, Making the entire set of TWELVE VOLUMES cost, when completed, but FIFTEEN DOLLARS. Volumes I and II. of the POPULAR EDITION OF FROUDE'S HISTORY are now ready, and two volumes will be brought out at monthly intervals, until the work shall be completed. « — CRITICAL NOTICES: "The ease and spirit, the gentleness and force, the grace and energy, the descriptive and pasMonatepower, the unstudied ease, and the consummate art of both imagery and diction which distinguish this remarkable writer, will soon make a place for him among the most - interesting and distinguished of those who have attempted to write any portion of the won derful historyof England. Those who have not read any of these volumes can scarcely appreciate, without the trial, how rich a treat is in store for them."— A7". Y. Times. " Since Macaulay's first volume, no historical work has appeared which, in brilliance ' of style as well as in keen analysis of character and events, can compare with the ten vol umes of Froude's History of England." — New York Independent. - " The style is excellent ; sound, honest, forcible, singularly perspicuous English ; at times with a sort of picturesque simplicity, pictures dashed off with only a few touches, but per fectly alive. . . . We have never to read a passage twice. . . . We see the course of events day by day, not only the more serious and important .communications, but the gossip of the hour. ... If truth and vivid reality be the perfection of histoiy, much is to be said in favor of this mode of composition." — London Quarterly. Those desiring to purchase THE POPULAR EDITION OF FROUDE'S HISTORY can have the volumes sent post-paid to their address as soon as issued, by remitting $15 to the publishers. THE LIBRARY EDITION OF FROTOE'S HISTORY is published in Ten volumes, printed upon heavy tinted paper, and handsomely bound in brown cloth, with gilt side and back, at $3 per volume ; in half calf, $5 per volume. The above volumes sent, post-paid, to any address by the publishers upon receipt qf CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO., 654 Broadway, Ifetv Yotfe