On Sunday nearly every hour of the day was occupied by services. At five

there was a short meeting, known as the "morning blessing." From six

to nine there were meetings for the several "choirs." At ten there was a

special service for children. At eleven there was morning worship in

the Parish Church. At one the Chief Elder gave a general exhortation.

At three, or thereabouts, there was a meeting, called the "strangers'

service," for those who had not been able to go to Church; and then the

Count or some other layman repeated the morning sermon. At four there

was another service at Berthelsdorf; at eight another service at

Herrnhut; at nine the young men marched round the settlement singing

hymns; and on Monday morning these wonderful folk returned to their

labour like giants refreshed with new wine. Their powers of endurance

were miraculous. The more meetings they had the more they seemed able to

stand. Sometimes the good Pastor Schwedler, of Görlitz, would give

them a sermon three hours long; and sometimes, commencing at six in

the morning, he held his congregation enthralled till three in the

afternoon.

Again, the Brethren listened day by day to a special message from God.

We come now to the origin of the Moravian Text-book. As the Count was

a great believer in variety, he very soon started the practice, at the

regular evening singing meeting, of giving the people a short address on

some Scriptural text or some verse from a hymn. As soon as the singing

meeting was over he read out to the company the chosen passage,

recommended it as a suitable subject for meditation the following day,

and next morning had the text passed round by the Elders to every house

in Herrnhut. Next year (1728) the practice was better organized. Instead

of waiting for the Count to choose, the Elders selected in advance a

number of texts and verses, and put them all together into a box; and

then, each evening, one of the Elders put his hand into the box and

drew the text for the following day. The idea was that of a special

Providence. If Christ, said the Count, took a special interest in every

one of His children, He would also take the same kindly interest in

every company of believers; and, therefore, He might be safely trusted

to guide the hand of the Elder aright and provide the "watchword" needed

for the day. Again and again he exhorted the Brethren to regard the text

for the day as God's special message to them; and finally, in 1731, he

had the texts for the whole year printed, and thus began that Brethren's

Text-book which now appears regularly every year, is issued in several

tongues, and circulates, in every quarter of the globe, among Christians

of all denominations.[80]

In order, next, to keep in touch with their fellow-Christians the

Brethren instituted a monthly Saturday meeting, and that Saturday came

to be known as "Congregation Day." {Feb. 10th, 1728.} At this meeting

the Brethren listened to reports of evangelical work in other districts.

Sometimes there would be a letter from a travelling Brother; sometimes a

visitor from some far-distant strand. The meeting was a genuine sign of

moral health. It fostered broadness of mind, and put an end to spiritual

pride. Instead of regarding themselves as Pietists, superior to the

average professing Christians, the Brethren now rejoiced to hear of the

good done by others. They prayed not for their own narrow circle alone,

but for all rulers, all churches, and all people that on earth do dwell;

and delighted to sing old Brethren's hymns, treating of the Church

Universal, such as John Augusta's "Praise God for ever" and "How amiable

Thy tabernacles are." At this monthly meeting the Count was in his

element. He would keep his audience enthralled for hours together. He

would read them first a piece of news in vivid, dramatic style; then he

would suddenly strike up a missionary hymn; then he would give them a

little more information; and thus he taught them to take an interest in

lands beyond the sea.

Another sign of moral health was the "Love-feast." As the Brethren met

in each other's houses, they attempted, in quite an unofficial way, to

revive the Agape of Apostolic times; and to this end they provided a

simple meal of rye-bread and water, wished each other the wish, "Long

live the Lord Jesus in our hearts," and talked in a free-and-easy

fashion about the Kingdom of God. And here the Brethren were on their

guard. In the days of the Apostles there had been scandals. The rich

had brought their costly food, and the poor had been left to pine. At

Herrnhut this scandal was avoided. For rich and poor the diet was the

same, and came from a common fund; in later years it was white bread and

tea; and in due time the Love-feast took the form of a meeting for the

whole congregation.

Again, the Brethren were wonderfully simple-minded. As we read about

their various meetings, it is clear that in their childlike way they

were trying to revive the institutions of Apostolic times. For this

purpose they even practised the ceremony of foot-washing, as described

in the Gospel of St. John. To the Count the clear command of Christ was

decisive. "If I then, your Lord and Master," said Jesus, "have washed

your feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet." What words, said

the Count, could be more binding than these? "No man," he declared, "can

read John xiii. without being convinced that this should be done." He

revived the custom, and made it both popular and useful. The ceremony

was generally performed by the young, before some special festival. It

spread in time to England and Ireland, and was not abandoned till the

early years of the nineteenth century[81] (1818).

We come now to the origin of the "choirs." As Zinzendorf studied the

Gospel story, he came to the conclusion that in the life of Jesus Christ

there was something specially suitable to each estate in life. For

the married people there was Christ, the Bridegroom of His Bride, the

Church; for the single Brethren, the "man about thirty years of age";

for the single Sisters, the Virgin Mary; for the children, the boy in

the temple asking questions. The idea took root. The more rapidly the

settlement grew, the more need there was for division and organization.

For each class the Master had a special message, and, therefore, each

class must have its special meetings and study its special duties. For

this purpose a band of single men--led by the ascetic Martin Linner, who

slept on bare boards--agreed to live in one house, spent the evenings

in united study, and thus laid the basis of the Single Brethren's Choir

{Aug. 29th, 1728.}. For the same purpose the single young women, led by

Anna Nitschmann, agreed to live in a "Single Sisters' House," and made

a covenant with one another that henceforward they would not make

matrimony the highest aim in life, but would rather, like Mary of

Bethany, sit at the feet of Christ and learn of Him {May 4th, 1730.}.

For the same purpose the married people met at a love-feast, formed the

"married choir," and promised to lead a pure and holy life {Sept. 7th,

1733.}, "so that their children might be plants of righteousness."

For the same purpose the children, in due time, were formed into a

"children's choir." The whole aim was efficiency and order. At first the

unions were voluntary; in time they became official.

As the years rolled on the whole congregation was systematically divided

into ten "choirs," as follows:--The married choir, the widowers, the

widows, the Single Brethren, the Single Sisters, the youths, the great

girls, the little boys, the little girls, the infants in arms. Each

choir had its own president, its own special services, its own festival

day, its own love-feasts. Of these choirs the most important were those

of the Single Brethren and Single Sisters. As the Brethren at Herrnhut

were soon to be busy in evangelistic labours, they found it convenient

to have in their ranks a number of men and women who were not bound down

by family ties; and though the young people took no celibate vows, they

often kept single through life for the sake of the growing cause.

The system invaded the sanctity of family life. As the Count was a

family man himself, he very properly took the deepest interest in

the training of little children; and, in season and out of season, he

insisted that the children of Christian parents should be screened from

the seductions of the world, the flesh and the devil. "It is nothing

less than a scandal," he said, "that people think so little of the

fact that their children are dedicated to the Lord. Children are little

kings; their baptism is their anointing; and as kings they ought to be

treated from the first." For this purpose he laid down the rule that

all infants should be baptized in the hall, in the presence of the whole

congregation; and as soon as the children were old enough to learn, he

had them taken from their homes, and put the little boys in one school

and the little girls in another. And thus the burden of their education

fell not on the parents, but on the congregation.

Again, the Count carried out his ideas in the "vasty halls of death."

Of all the sacred spots in Herrnhut there were none more sacred and more

awe-inspiring than the "God's Acre" which the Brethren laid out on the

Hutberg. There, in the bosom of Mother Earth, the same division into

choirs was preserved. To the Count the tomb was a holy place. If a

visitor ever came to Herrnhut, he was sure to take him to the

God's Acre, and tell him the story of those whose bones awaited

the resurrection of the just. The God's Acre became the scene of an

impressive service {1733.}. At an early hour on Easter Sunday the

Brethren assembled in the sacred presence of the dead, and waited for

the sun to rise. As the golden rim appeared on the horizon, the minister

spoke the first words of the service. "The Lord is risen," said the

minister. "He is risen indeed!" responded the waiting throng. And then,

in the beautiful language of Scripture, the Brethren joined in a solemn

confession of faith. The trombones that woke the morning echoes led the

anthem of praise, and one and all, in simple faith, looked onward to

the glorious time when those who lay in the silent tomb should hear the

voice of the Son of God, and be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord

in the air. To the Brethren the tomb was no abode of dread. In a tomb

the Lord Himself had lain; in a tomb His humble disciples lay "asleep";

and therefore, when a brother departed this life, the mourners never

spoke of him as dead. "He is gone home," they said; and so death lost

his sting.

Again, the Brethren had a strong belief in direct answers to prayer.

It was this that led them to make such use of the "Lot." As soon as

the first twelve Elders were elected, the Brethren chose from among the

twelve a committee of four by Lot; and in course of time the Lot was

used for a great variety of purposes. By the Lot, as we shall see later

on, the most serious ecclesiastical problems were settled. By the Lot a

sister determined her answer to an offer of marriage. By the Lot a call

to service was given, and by the Lot it was accepted or rejected. If

once the Lot had been consulted, the decision was absolute and binding.

The prayer had been answered, the Lord had spoken, and the servant must

now obey.[82]

We have now to mention but one more custom, dating from those great

days. It is one peculiar to the Brethren's Church, and is known as the

"Cup of Covenant." It was established by the Single Brethren, {1729.}

and was based on the act of Christ Himself, as recorded in the Gospel of

St. Luke. As the Master sat with His twelve disciples in the Upper Room

at Jerusalem, we are told that just before the institution of the Lord's

Supper,[83] "He took the Cup and gave thanks, and said, 'Take this and

divide it among yourselves'"; and now, in obedience to this command,

this ardent band of young disciples made a covenant to be true to

Christ, and passed the Cup from hand to hand. Whenever a young brother

was called out to the mission field, the whole choir would meet and

entrust him to Christ in this simple and scriptural way. It was the

pledge at once of united service and united trust. It spread, in course

of time, to the other choirs; it is practised still at the annual

choir festivals; and its meaning is best expressed in the words of the

Brethren's Covenant Hymn:--

Assembling here, a humble band,

Our covenantal pledge to take,

We pass the cup from hand to hand,

From heart to heart, for His dear sake.

It remains to answer two important questions. As we study the life of

the Herrnhut Brethren, we cannot possibly fail to notice how closely

their institutions resembled the old institutions of the Bohemian

Brethren. We have the same care for the poor, the same ascetic ideal of

life, the same adherence to the word of Scripture, the same endeavour to

revive Apostolic practice, the same semi-socialistic tendency, the

same aspiration after brotherly unity, the same title, "Elder," for the

leading officials, and the same, or almost the same, method of electing

some of these officials by Lot. And, therefore, we naturally ask the

question, how far were these Brethren guided by the example of their

fathers? The reply is, not at all. At this early stage in their history

the Moravian refugees at Herrnhut knew absolutely nothing of the

institutions of the Bohemian Brethren.[84] They had no historical records

in their possession; they had not preserved any copies of the ancient

laws; they brought no books but hymn-books across the border; and they

framed their rules and organized their society before they had even

heard of the existence of Comenius's "Account of Discipline." The whole

movement at Herrnhut was free, spontaneous, original. It was not an

imitation of the past. It was not an attempt to revive the Church of the

Brethren. It was simply the result of Zinzendorf's attempt to apply the

ideals of the Pietist Spener to the needs of the settlers on his estate.

The second question is, what was the ecclesiastical standing of the

Brethren at this time? They were not a new church or sect. They had

no separate ministry of their own. They were members of the Lutheran

Church, regarded Rothe still as their Pastor, attended the Parish

Church on Sundays, and took the Communion there once a month; and what

distinguished them from the average orthodox Lutheran of the day was,

not any peculiarity of doctrine, but rather their vivid perception of a

doctrine common to all the Churches. As the Methodists in England a few

years later exalted the doctrine of "conversion," so these Brethren at

Herrnhut exalted the doctrine of the spiritual presence of Christ. To

them the ascended Christ was all in all. He had preserved the "Hidden

Seed." He had led them out from Moravia. He had brought them to a

watch-tower. He had delivered them from the secret foe. He had banished

the devouring demon of discord, had poured out His Holy Spirit upon them

at their memorable service in the Parish Church, and had taught them

to maintain the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. He was the

"Bridegroom of the Soul," the "Blood Relation of His People," the

"King's Son seeking for His Bride, the Church," the "Chief Elder

pleading for the Church before God." And this thought of the living and

reigning Christ was, therefore, the ruling thought among the Brethren.

He had done three marvellous things for the sons of men. He had given

His life as a "ransom" for sin, and had thereby reconciled them to God;

He had set the perfect example for them to follow; He was present with

them now as Head of the Church; and thus, when the Brethren went out to

preach, they made His Sacrificial Death, His Holy Life, and His abiding

presence the main substance of their Gospel message.

CHAPTER V. -- THE EDICT OF BANISHMENT, 1729-1736.

But Zinzendorf was not long allowed to tread the primrose path of

peace. As the news of his proceedings spread in Germany, many orthodox

Lutherans began to regard him as a nuisance, a heretic, and a disturber

of the peace; and one critic made the elegant remark: "When Count

Zinzendorf flies up into the air, anyone who pulls him down by the legs

will do him a great service." He was accused of many crimes, and had

many charges to answer. He was accused of founding a new sect, a society

for laziness; he was accused of holding strange opinions, opposed to

the teaching of the Lutheran Church; he was accused of being a sham

Christian, a sort of religious freak; and now he undertook the task

of proving that these accusations were false, and of showing all

fair-minded men in Germany that the Brethren at Herrnhut were as

orthodox as Luther, as respected as the King, and as pious as good old

Dr. Spener himself. His methods were bold and straightforward.

He began by issuing a manifesto {Aug. 12th, 1729.}, entitled the

"Notariats-Instrument." As this document was signed by all the Herrnhut

Brethren, they must have agreed to its statements; but, on the other

hand, it is fairly certain that it was drawn up by Zinzendorf himself.

It throws a flood of light on his state of mind. He had begun to think

more highly of the Moravian Church. He regarded the Moravians as the

kernel of the Herrnhut colony, and now he deliberately informed

the public that, so far from being a new sect, these Moravians were

descendants of an ancient Church. They were, he declared, true heirs of

the Church of the Brethren; and that Church, in days gone by, had been

recognized by Luther, Calvin and others as a true Church of Christ. In

doctrine that Church was as orthodox as the Lutheran; in discipline it

was far superior. As long, therefore, as the Brethren were allowed to do

so, they would maintain their old constitution and discipline; and yet,

on the other hand, they would not be Dissenters. They were not Hussites;

they were not Waldenses; they were not Fraticelli; they honoured the

Augsburg Confession; they would still attend the Berthelsdorf

Parish Church; and, desirous of cultivating fellowship with all true

Christians, they announced their broad position in the sentence: "We

acknowledge no public Church of God except where the pure Word of God

is preached, and where the members live as holy children of God." Thus

Zinzendorf made his policy fairly clear. He wanted to preserve the

Moravian Church inside the Lutheran Church![85]

His next move was still more daring. He was a man of fine missionary

zeal. As the woman who found the lost piece of silver invited her

friends and neighbours to share in her joy, so Zinzendorf wished all

Christians to share in the treasure which he had discovered at Herrnhut.

He believed that the Brethren there were called to a world-wide mission.

He wanted Herrnhut to be a city set on a hill. "I have no sympathy," he

said, "with those comfortable people who sit warming themselves before

the fire of the future life." He did not sit long before the fire

himself. He visited the University of Jena, founded a society among

the students, and so impressed the learned Spangenberg that that great

theological scholar soon became a Brother at Herrnhut himself. He

visited the University of Halle, and founded another society of students

there. He visited Elmsdorf in Vogtland, and founded a society consisting

of members of the family of Count Reuss. He visited Berleburg in

Westphalia, made the acquaintance of John Conrad Dippel, and tried to

lead that straying sheep back to the Lutheran fold. He visited Budingen

in Hesse, discoursed on Christian fellowship to the "French Prophets,"

or "Inspired Ones," and tried to teach their hysterical leader, Rock,

a little wisdom, sobriety and charity. He attended the coronation of

Christian VI., King of Denmark, at Copenhagen, was warmly welcomed

by His Majesty, received the Order of the Danebrog, saw Eskimos from

Greenland and a negro from St. Thomas, and thus opened the door, as we

shall see later on, for the great work of foreign missions. Meanwhile,

he was sending messengers in all directions. He sent two Brethren to

Copenhagen, with a short historical account of Herrnhut. He sent two

others to London to see the Queen, and to open up negotiations with the

Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. He sent another to Sweden;

others to Hungary and Austria; others to Switzerland; others to Moravia;

others to the Baltic Provinces, Livonia and Esthonia. And everywhere his

object was the same--the formation of societies for Christian fellowship

within the National Church.

At this point, however, he acted like a fanatic, and manifested the

first symptoms of that weak trait in his character which nearly wrecked

his career. As he pondered one day on the state of affairs at Herrnhut,

it suddenly flashed upon his mind that the Brethren would do far better

without their ancient constitution. He first consulted the Elders and

Helpers {Jan. 7th, 1731.}; he then summoned the whole congregation; and

there and then he deliberately proposed that the Brethren should abolish

their regulations, abandon their constitution, cease to be Moravians and

become pure Lutherans. At that moment Zinzendorf was calmly attempting

to destroy the Moravian Church. He did not want to see that Church

revive. For some reason of his own, which he never explained in print,

he had come to the conclusion that the Brethren would serve Christ far

better without any special regulations of their own. But the Brethren

were not disposed to meek surrender. The question was keenly debated. At

length, however, both sides agreed to appeal to a strange tribunal. For

the first time in the history of Herrnhut a critical question of Church

policy was submitted to the Lot.[86] The Brethren took two slips of paper

and put them into a box. On the first were the words, "To them that are

without law, as without law, that I might gain them that are without

law," 1 Cor. ix. 21; on the second the words, "Therefore, Brethren,

stand fast, and hold the traditions which ye have been taught," 2 Thess.

ii. 15. At that moment the fate of the Church hung in the balance; the

question at issue was one of life and death; and the Brethren spent a

long time in anxious prayer. If the first slip of paper was drawn, the

Church would cease to exist; if the second, she might still live by the

blessing of God. Young Christel, Zinzendorf's son, now entered the room.

He drew the second slip of paper, and the Moravian Church was saved. To

Zinzendorf this was an event of momentous importance. As soon as

that second slip of paper was drawn, he felt convinced that God had

sanctioned the renewal of the Moravian Church.

Next year an event occurred to strengthen his convictions. A body of

commissioners from Dresden appeared at Herrnhut {Jan. 19-22, 1732.}.

They attended all the Sunday services, had private interviews with the

Brethren, and sent in their report to the Saxon Government. The Count's

conduct had excited public alarm. He had welcomed not only Moravians at

Herrnhut, but Schwenkfelders at Berthelsdorf; and, therefore, he was now

suspected of harbouring dangerous fanatics. For a long time the issue

hung doubtful; but finally the Government issued a decree that while the

Schwenkfelders must quit the land, the Moravians should be allowed to

stay as long as they behaved themselves quietly {April 4th, 1733.}.

But Zinzendorf was not yet satisfied. He regarded the edict as an

insult. The words about "behaving quietly" looked like a threat. As long

as the Brethren were merely "tolerated," their peace was in constant

danger; and a King who had driven out the Schwenkfelders might soon

drive out the Herrnhuters. He was disgusted. At the time when the edict

was issued, he himself was returning from a visit to Tübingen. He had

laid the whole case of the Brethren before the Tübingen Theological

Faculty. He had asked these theological experts to say whether the

Brethren could keep their discipline and yet be considered good

Lutherans; and the experts, in reply, had declared their opinion that

the Herrnhut Brethren were as loyal Lutherans as any in the land.

Thus the Brethren were standing now on a shaky floor. According to the

Tübingen Theological Faculty they were good members of the National

Church; according to the Government they were a "sect" to be tolerated!

Next year he adopted three defensive measures {1734.}. First, he divided

the congregation at Herrnhut into two parts, the Moravian and the purely

Lutheran; next, he had himself ordained as a Lutheran clergyman; and

third, he despatched a few Moravians to found a colony in Georgia. He

was now, he imagined, prepared for the worst. If the King commanded the

Moravians to go, the Count had his answer ready. As he himself was

a Lutheran clergyman, he would stay at Herrnhut and minister to the

Herrnhut Lutherans; and the Moravians could all sail away to Georgia,

and live in perfect peace in the land of the free.

Next year he made his position stronger still {1735.}. As the Moravians

in Georgia would require their own ministers, he now had David

Nitschmann consecrated a Bishop by Bishop Daniel Ernest Jablonsky (March

13th). The new Bishop was not to exercise his functions in Germany. He

was a Bishop for the foreign field only; he sailed with the second batch

of colonists for Georgia; and thus Zinzendorf maintained the Moravian

Episcopal Succession, not from any sectarian motives, but because he

wished to help the Brethren when the storm burst over their heads.

For what really happened, however, Zinzendorf was unprepared {1736.}.

As he made these various arrangements for the Brethren, he entirely

overlooked the fact that he himself was in greater danger than they.

He was far more widely hated than he imagined. He was condemned by the

Pietists because he had never experienced their sudden and spasmodic

method of conversion. He offended his own relatives when he became a

clergyman; he was accused of having disgraced his rank as a Count; he

disgusted a number of other noblemen at Dresden; and the result of this

strong feeling was that Augustus III., King of Saxony, issued an edict

banishing Zinzendorf from his kingdom. He was accused in this Royal

edict of three great crimes. He had introduced religious novelties;

he had founded conventicles; and he had taught false doctrine. Thus

Zinzendorf was banished from Saxony as a heretic. As soon, however, as

the Government had dealt with Zinzendorf, they sent a second Commission

to Herrnhut; and the second Commission came to the conclusion that the

Brethren were most desirable Lutherans, and might be allowed to

stay. Dr. Löscher, one of the commissioners, burst into tears. "Your

doctrine," he said, "is as pure as ours, but we do not possess your

discipline." At first sight this certainly looks like a contradiction,

but the explanation is not far to seek. We find it in the report issued

by the Commission. It was a shameless confession of mercenary motives.

In that report the commissioners deliberately stated that if good

workmen like the Brethren were banished from Herrnhut the Government

would lose so much in taxes; and, therefore, the Brethren were allowed

to stay because they brought grist to the mill. At the same time, they

were forbidden to make any proselytes; and thus it was hoped that the

Herrnhut heresy would die a natural death.

When Zinzendorf heard of his banishment, he was not amazed. "What

matter!" he said. "Even had I been allowed by law, I could not have

remained in Herrnhut at all during the next ten years." He had plans

further afield. "We must now," he added, "gather together the Pilgrim

Congregation and proclaim the Saviour to the World." It is true that the

edict of banishment was repealed {1737.}; it is true that he was allowed

to return to Herrnhut; but a year later a new edict was issued, and the

Count was sternly expelled from his native land {1738.}.

CHAPTER VI. -- THE FOREIGN MISSIONS AND THEIR INFLUENCE.

As young Leonard Dober lay tossing on his couch, his soul was disquieted

within him {1731.}. He had heard strange news that afternoon, and sleep

forsook his eyes. As Count Zinzendorf was on a visit to the court of

Christian VI., King of Denmark, he met a West Indian negro slave, by

name Antony Ulrich. And Antony was an interesting man. He had been

baptized; he had been taught the rudiments of the Christian faith; he

had met two other Brethren at the court; his tongue was glib and

his imagination lively; and now he poured into Zinzendorf's ears a

heartrending tale of the benighted condition of the slaves on the Danish

island of St. Thomas. He spoke pathetically of his sister Anna, of his

brother Abraham, and of their fervent desire to hear the Gospel.

"If only some missionaries would come," said he, "they would certainly

be heartily welcomed. Many an evening have I sat on the shore and sighed

my soul toward Christian Europe; and I have a brother and sister in

bondage who long to know the living God."

The effect on Zinzendorf was electric. His mind was full of missionary

visions. The story of Antony fired his zeal. The door to the heathen

world stood open. The golden day had dawned. He returned to the Brethren

at Herrnhut, arrived at two o'clock in the morning, and found that the

Single Brethren were still on their knees in prayer. Nothing could be

more encouraging. At the first opportunity he told the Brethren Antony's

touching tale.

Again the effect was electric. As the Brethren met for their monthly

service on "Congregation Day" they had often listened to reports of

work in various parts of the Continent; already the Count had suggested

foreign work; and already a band of Single Brethren (Feb. 11th, 1728)

had made a covenant with each other to respond to the first clear sound

of the trumpet call. As soon as their daily work was over, these men

plunged deep into the study of medicine, geography, and languages. They

wished to be ready "when the blessed time should come"; they were on the

tiptoe of expectation; and now they were looking forward to the day when

they should be summoned to cross the seas to heathen lands. The summons

had sounded at last. To Leonard Dober the crisis of his life had come.

As he tossed to and fro that summer night he could think about nothing

but the poor neglected negroes, and seemed to hear a voice Divine urging

him to arise and preach deliverance to the captives. Whence came, he

asked, that still, small voice? Was it his own excited fancy, or was it

the voice of God? As the morning broke, he was still unsettled in his

mind. But already the Count had taught the Brethren to regard the daily

Watch-Word as a special message from God. He consulted his text-book.

The very answer he sought was there. "It is not a vain thing for you,"

ran the message, "because it is your life; and through this thing ye

shall prolong your days."

And yet Dober was not quite convinced. If God desired him to go abroad

He would give a still clearer call. He determined to consult his friend

Tobias Leupold, and abide the issue of the colloquy; and in the evening

the two young men took their usual stroll together among the brushwood

clustering round the settlement. And then Leonard Dober laid bare his

heart, and learned to his amazement that all the while Tobias had been

in the same perplexing pass. What Dober had been longing to tell him,

he had been longing to tell Dober. Each had heard the same still small

voice; each had fought the same doubts; each had feared to speak his

mind; and now, in the summer gloaming, they knelt down side by side

and prayed to be guided aright. Forthwith the answer was ready. As they

joined the other Single Brethren, and marched in solemn procession past

Zinzendorf's house, they heard the Count remark to a friend, "Sir,

among these young men there are missionaries to St. Thomas, Greenland,

Lapland, and many other countries."

The words were inspiring. Forthwith the young fellows wrote to the Count

and offered to serve in St. Thomas. The Count read the letter to the

congregation, but kept their names a secret. The Brethren were critical

and cold. As the settlers were mostly simple people, with little

knowledge of the world beyond the seas, it was natural that they should

shrink from a task which the powerful Protestant Churches of Europe had

not yet dared to attempt. Some held the offer reckless; some dubbed it

a youthful bid for fame and the pretty imagination of young officious

minds. Antony Ulrich came to Herrnhut, addressed the congregation in

Dutch, and told them that no one could be a missionary in St. Thomas

without first becoming a slave. As the people knew no better they

believed him. For a year the issue hung in the scales of doubt. The

young men were resolute, confident and undismayed. If they had to be

slaves to preach the Gospel, then slaves they would willingly be![87] At

last Dober wrote in person to the congregation and repeated his resolve.

The Brethren yielded. The Count still doubted. For the second time a

momentous issue was submitted to the decision of the Lot.

"Are you willing," he asked Dober, "to consult the Saviour by means of

the Lot?"

"For myself," replied Dober, "I am already sure enough; but I will do so

for the sake of the Brethren."

A meeting was held; a box of mottoes was brought in; and Dober drew a

slip of paper bearing the words: "Let the lad go, for the Lord is with

him." The voice of the Lot was decisive. Of all the meetings held

in Herrnhut, this meeting to hear the voice of the Lot was the most

momentous in its world-wide importance. The young men were all on fire.

If the Lot had only given the word they would now have gone to the

foreign field in dozens. For the first time in the history of Protestant

Europe a congregation of orthodox Christians had deliberately resolved

to undertake the task of preaching the Gospel to the heathen. As the

Lot which decided that Dober should go had also decided that his friend

Leupold should stay, he now chose as his travelling companion the

carpenter, David Nitschmann. The birthday of Moravian Missions now drew

near. At three o'clock on the morning of August 21st, 1732, the two men

stood waiting in front of Zinzendorf's house. The Count had spent the

whole night in prayer. He drove them in his carriage as far as Bautzen.

They alighted outside the little town, knelt down on the quiet roadside,

engaged in prayer, received the Count's blessing by imposition of hands,

bade him farewell, and set out Westward Ho!

As they trudged on foot on their way to Copenhagen, they had no idea

that in so doing they were clearing the way for the great modern

missionary movement; and, on the whole, they looked more like pedlars

than pioneers of a new campaign. They wore brown coats and quaint

three-cornered hats. They carried bundles on their backs. They had only

about thirty shillings in their pockets. They had received no clear

instructions from the Count, except "to do all in the Spirit of Jesus

Christ." They knew but little of the social condition of St. Thomas.

They had no example to follow; they had no "Society" to supply their

needs; and now they were going to a part of the world where, as yet, a

missionary's foot had never trod.

At Copenhagen, where they called at the court, they created quite a

sensation. For some years there had existed there a National Missionary

College. It was the first Reformed Missionary College in Europe. Founded

by King Frederick IV., it was regarded as a regular department of the

State. It had already sent Hans Egede to Greenland and Ziegenbalg

to Tranquebar, on the Coromandel Coast; and it sent its men as State

officials, to undertake the work of evangelisation as a useful part

of the national colonial policy. But Dober and Nitschmann were on a

different footing. If they had been the paid agents of the State they

would have been regarded with favour; but as they were only the heralds

of a Church they were laughed at as a brace of fools. For a while they

met with violent opposition. Von Plesz, the King's Chamberlain, asked

them how they would live.

"We shall work," replied Nitschmann, "as slaves among the slaves."

"But," said Von Plesz, "that is impossible. It will not be allowed. No

white man ever works as a slave."

"Very well," replied Nitschmann, "I am a carpenter, and will ply my

trade."

"But what will the potter do?"

"He will help me in my work."

"If you go on like that," exclaimed the Chamberlain, "you will stand

your ground the wide world over."

The first thing was to stand their ground at Copenhagen. As the

directors of the Danish West Indian Company refused to grant them a

passage out they had now to wait for any vessel that might be sailing.

The whole Court was soon on their side. The Queen expressed her good

wishes. The Princess Amalie gave them some money and a Dutch Bible.

The Chamberlain slipped some coins into Nitschmann's pocket. The Court

Physician gave them a spring lancet, and showed them how to open a vein.

The Court Chaplain espoused their cause, and the Royal Cupbearer found

them a ship on the point of sailing for St. Thomas.

As the ship cast anchor in St. Thomas Harbour the Brethren realized for

the first time the greatness of their task. There lay the quaint little

town of Tappus, its scarlet roofs agleam in the noontide sun; there,

along the silver beach, they saw the yellowing rocks; and there, beyond,

the soft green hills were limned against the azure sky. There, in a

word, lay the favoured isle, the "First Love of Moravian Missions."

Again the text for the day was prophetic: "The Lord of Hosts," ran

the gladdening watchword, "mustereth the host of the battle." As the

Brethren stepped ashore next day they opened a new chapter in the

history of modern Christianity. They were the founders of Christian work

among the slaves. For fifty years the Moravian Brethren laboured in the

West Indies without any aid from any other religious denomination. They

established churches in St. Thomas, in St. Croix, in St. John's, in

Jamaica, in Antigua, in Barbados, and in St. Kitts. They had 13,000

baptized converts before a missionary from any other Church arrived on

the scene.

We pass to another field. As the Count was on his visit to the Court in

Copenhagen, he saw two little Greenland boys who had been baptized by

the Danish missionary, Hans Egede; and as the story of Antony Ulrich

fired the zeal of Leonard Dober, so the story of Egede's patient labours

aroused the zeal of Matthew Stach and the redoubtable Christian David

{1733.}. In Greenland Egede had failed. In Greenland the Brethren

succeeded. As they settled down among the people they resolved at first

to be very systematic in their method of preaching the Gospel; and to

this end, like Egede before them, they expounded to the simple Eskimo

folk the whole scheme of dogmatic theology, from the fall of man to the

glorification of the saint. The result was dismal failure. At last the

Brethren struck the golden trail. The story is a classic in the history

of missions. As John Beck, one balmy evening in June, was discoursing on

things Divine to a group of Eskimos, it suddenly flashed upon his mind

that, instead of preaching dogmatic theology he would read them an

extract from the translation of the Gospels he was now preparing. He

seized his manuscript. "And being in an agony," read John Beck, "He

prayed more earnestly, and His sweat was as it were great drops of blood

falling down to the ground." At this Kajarnak, the brightest in the

group, sprang forward to the table and exclaimed, "How was that? Tell me

that again, for I, too, would be saved." The first Eskimo was touched.

The power was the story of the Cross. From that moment the Brethren

altered the whole style of their preaching. Instead of expounding

dogmatic theology, they told the vivid human story of the Via Dolorosa,

the Crown of Thorns, the Scourging, and the Wounded Side. The result was

brilliant success. The more the Brethren spoke of Christ the more eager

the Eskimos were to listen.

In this good work the leader was Matthew Stach. He was ordained a

Presbyter of the Brethren's Church. He was officially appointed leader

of the Greenland Mission. He was recognized by the Danish College

of Missions. He was authorized by the King of Denmark to baptize and

perform all sacerdotal functions. His work was methodical and thorough.

In order to teach the roving Eskimos the virtues of a settled life, he

actually took a number of them on a Continental tour, brought them to

London, presented them, at Leicester House, to King George II., the

Prince of Wales, and the rest of the Royal Family, and thus imbued them

with a love of civilisation. At New Herrnhut, in Greenland, he founded

a settlement, as thoroughly organised as Herrnhut in Saxony. He built

a church, adorned with pictures depicting the sufferings of Christ. He

taught the people to play the violin. He divided the congregation into

"choirs." He showed them how to cultivate a garden of cabbages, leeks,

lettuces, radishes and turnips. He taught them to care for all widows

and orphans. He erected a "Brethren's House" for the "Single Brethren"

and a "Sisters' House" for the "Single Sisters." He taught them to join

in worship every day. At six o'clock every morning there was a meeting

for the baptized; at eight a public service for all the settlers; at

nine the children repeated their catechism and then proceeded to morning

school; and then, in the evening, when the men had returned with their

bag of seals, there was a public preaching service in the church. And at

Lichtenfels and Lichtenau the same sort of work was done.

We pass on to other scenes, to Dutch Guinea or Surinam. As the Dutch

were still a great colonial power, they had plenty of opportunity to

spread the Gospel; and yet, except in India, they had hitherto not

lifted a finger in the cause of foreign missions. For the most part the

Dutch clergy took not the slightest interest in the subject. They held

bigoted views about predestination. They thought that Christ had died

for them, but not for Indians and negroes. As the Brethren, however,

were good workmen, it was thought that they might prove useful in the

Colonies; and so Bishop Spangenberg found it easy to make an arrangement

with the Dutch Trading Company, whereby the Brethren were granted a

free passage, full liberty in religion, and exemption from the oath and

military service {1734.}. But all this was little more than pious talk.

As soon as the Brethren set to work the Dutch pastors opposed them to

the teeth. At home and abroad it was just the same. At Amsterdam

the clergy met in Synod, and prepared a cutting "Pastoral Letter,"

condemning the Brethren's theology; and at Paramaribo the Brethren were

forbidden to hold any meetings at all. But the Brethren did not stay

very long in Paramaribo. Through three hundred miles of jungle and swamp

they pressed their way, and came to the homes of the Indian tribes; to

the Accawois, who earned their living as professional assassins; to the

Warrows, who wallowed in the marshes; to the Arawaks, or "Flour People,"

who prepared tapioca; to the Caribs, who sought them that had familiar

spirits and wizards that peep and mutter. "It seems very dark," they

wrote to the Count, "but we will testify of the grace of the Saviour

till He lets the light shine in this dark waste." For twenty years they

laboured among these Indian tribes; and Salomo Schumann, the leader of

the band, prepared an Indian dictionary and grammar. One story flashes

light upon their labours. As Christopher Dähne, who had built himself

a hut in the forest, was retiring to rest a snake suddenly glided down

upon him from the roof, bit him twice or thrice, and coiled itself round

his body. At that moment, the gallant herald of the Cross, with death

staring him in the face, thought, not of himself, but of the people whom

he had come to serve. If he died as he lay the rumour might spread that

some of the natives had killed him; and, therefore, he seized a piece

of chalk and wrote on the table, "A serpent has killed me." But lo! the

text flashed suddenly upon him: "They shall take up serpents; and if

they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them." He seized the

serpent, flung it from him, lay down to sleep in perfect peace, and next

morning went about his labours.

We pass now to South Africa, the land of the Boers. For the last hundred

years South Africa had been under the rule of the Dutch East India

Company; and the result was that the Hottentots and Kaffirs were

still as heathen as ever. For their spiritual welfare the Boers cared

absolutely nothing. They were strong believers in predestination; they

believed that they were elected to grace and the Hottentots elected to

damnation; and, therefore, they held it to be their duty to wipe the

Hottentots off the face of the earth. "The Hottentots," they said, "have

no souls; they belong to the race of baboons." They called them children

of the devil; they called them "black wares," "black beasts," and "black

cattle"; and over one church door they painted the notice "Dogs and

Hottentots not admitted." They ruined them, body and soul, with rum and

brandy; they first made them merry with drink, and then cajoled them

into unjust bargains; they shot them down in hundreds, and then boasted

over their liquor how many Hottentots they had "potted." "With one

hundred and fifty men," wrote the Governor, Van Ruibeck, in his journal,

"11,000 head of black cattle might be obtained without danger of losing

one man; and many savages might be taken without resistance to be

sent as slaves to India, as they will always come to us unarmed. If no

further trade is to be expected with them, what should it matter much to

take six or eight thousand beasts from them." But the most delightful

of all Boer customs was the custom of flogging by pipes. If a Hottentot

proved a trifle unruly, he was thrashed, while his master, looking on

with a gluttonous eye, smoked a fixed number of pipes; and the wreathing

smoke and the writhing Hottentot brought balm unto his soul.

And now to this hell of hypocrisy and villainy came the first apostle to

the natives. As the famous Halle missionary, Ziegenbalg, was on his way

to the Malabar Coast he touched at Cape Town, heard something of the

abominations practised, was stirred to pity, and wrote laying the case

before two pastors in Holland. The two pastors wrote to Herrnhut; the

Herrnhut Brethren chose their man; and in less than a week the man was

on his way. George Schmidt was a typical Herrnhut brother. He had come

from Kunewalde, in Moravia, had lain six years in prison, had seen his

friend, Melchior Nitschmann, die in his arms, and watched his own flesh

fall away in flakes from his bones. For twelve months he had now to stay

in Amsterdam, first to learn the Dutch language, and secondly to pass an

examination in orthodox theology. He passed the examination with flying

colours. He received permission from the "Chamber of Seventeen" to sail

in one of the Dutch East India Company's ships. He landed at Cape Town.

His arrival created a sensation. As he sat in the public room of an inn

he listened to the conversation of the assembled farmers {1737.}.

"I hear," said one, "that a parson has come here to convert the

Hottentots."

"What! a parson!" quoth another. "Why, the poor fool must have lost his

head."

They argued the case; they mocked; they laughed; they found the subject

intensely amusing.

"And what, sir, do you think?" said a waiter to Schmidt, who was sitting

quietly in the corner.

"I am the very man," replied Schmidt; and the farmers began to talk

about their crops.

For six years George Schmidt laboured all alone among the benighted

Hottentots. He began his labours at a military outpost in the Sweet-Milk

Valley, about fifty miles east of Cape Town; but finding the company

of soldiers dangerous to the morals of his congregation, he moved to a

place called Bavian's Kloof, where the town of Genadendal stands to-day.

He planted the pear-tree so famous in missionary annals, taught the

Hottentots the art of gardening, held public service every evening, had

fifty pupils in his day-school, and began to baptize his converts. As he

and William, one of his scholars, were returning one day from a visit to

Cape Town, they came upon a brook, and Schmidt asked William if he had a

mind to be baptized there and then. He answered "Yes." And there, by

the stream in a quiet spot, the first fruit of African Missions made his

confession of faith in Christ.

"Dost thou believe," asked Schmidt solemnly, "that the Son of God died

on the cross for the sins of all mankind? Dost thou believe that thou

art by nature a lost and undone creature? Wilt thou renounce the devil

and all his works? Art thou willing, in dependence on God's grace, to

endure reproach and persecution, to confess Christ before all men, and

to remain faithful to him unto death?"

As soon, however, as Schmidt began to baptize his converts the Cape Town

clergy denounced him as a heretic, and summoned him to answer for his

sins. The great charge against him was that he had not been properly

ordained. He had been ordained, not by actual imposition of hands, but

by a certificate of ordination, sent out to him by Zinzendorf. To the

Dutch clergy this was no ordination at all. What right, said they, had

a man to baptize who had been ordained in this irregular manner? He

returned to Holland to fight his battle there. And he never set foot on

African soil again! The whole argument about the irregular ordination

turned out to be a mere excuse. If that argument had been genuine the

Dutch clergy could now have had Schimdt ordained in the usual way. But

the truth is they had no faith in his mission; they had begun to regard

the Brethren as dangerous heretics; and, therefore, for another fifty

years they forbade all further mission work in the Dutch Colony of South

Africa.

We pass on to other scenes. We go to the Gold Coast in the Dutch Colony

of Guinea, where Huckoff, another German Moravian, and Protten, a

mulatto theological scholar, attempted to found a school for slaves

{1737.}, and where, again, the work was opposed by the Governor. We pass

to another Dutch Colony in Ceylon; and there find David Nitschmann III.

and Dr. Eller establishing a society in Colombo, and labouring further

inland for the conversion of the Cingalese; and again we find that the

Dutch clergy, inflamed by the "Pastoral Letter," were bitterly opposed

to the Brethren and compelled them to return to Herrnhut. We take our

journey to Constantinople, and find Arvid Gradin, the learned Swede,

engaged in an attempt to come to terms with the Greek Church {1740.},

and thus open the way for the Brethren's Gospel to Asia. We step north

to Wallachia, and find two Brethren consulting about a settlement there

with the Haspodar of Bucharest. We arrive at St. Petersburg, and find

three Brethren there before us, commissioned to preach the Gospel to the

heathen Calmucks. We pass on to Persia and find two doctors, Hocker and

Rüffer, stripped naked by robbers on the highway, and then starting a

practice at Ispahan (1747). We cross the sandy plains to the city of

Bagdad, and find two Brethren in its narrow streets; we find Hocker

expounding the Gospel to the Copts in Cairo!

And even this was not the end of the Brethren's missionary labours

{1738-42.}. For some years the Brethren conducted a mission to the Jews.

For Jews the Count had special sympathy. He had vowed in his youth to

do all he could for their conversion; he had met a good many Jews at

Herrnhut and at Frankfurt-on-the-Main; he made a practice of speaking

about them in public on the Great Day of Atonement; and in their Sunday

morning litany the Brethren uttered the prayer, "Deliver Thy people

Israel from their blindness; bring many of them to know Thee, till the

fulness of the Gentiles is come and all Israel is saved." The chief

seat of this work was Amsterdam, and the chief workers Leonard Dober and

Samuel Leiberkühn. The last man was a model missionary. He had studied

theology at Jena and Halle; he was a master of the Hebrew tongue; he

was expert in all customs of the Jews; he was offered a professorship

at Königsberg; and yet, instead of winning his laurels as an Oriental

scholar, he preferred to settle down in humble style in the Jewish

quarter of Amsterdam, and there talk to his friends the Jews about the

Christ he loved so deeply. His method of work was instructive. He never

dazed his Jewish friends with dogmatic theology. He never tried to prove

that Christ was the Messiah of the prophecies. He simply told them, in

a kindly way, how Jesus had risen from the dead, and how much this

risen Jesus had done in the world; he shared their hope of a national

gathering in Palestine; and, though he could never boast of making

converts, he was so beloved by his Jewish friends that they called him

"Rabbi Schmuel."

Let us try to estimate the value of all this work. Of all the

enterprises undertaken by the Brethren this heroic advance on heathen

soil had the greatest influence on other Protestant Churches; and some

writers have called the Moravians the pioneers of Protestant Foreign

Missions. But this statement is only true in a special sense. They

were not the first to preach the Gospel to the heathen. If the reader

consults any history of Christian Missions[88] he will see that long

before Leonard Dober set out for St. Thomas other men had preached the

Gospel in heathen lands.

But in all these efforts there is one feature missing. There is no sign

of any united Church action. At the time when Leonard Dober set out from

Herrnhut not a single other Protestant Church in the world had attacked

the task of foreign missions, or even regarded that task as a Divinely

appointed duty. In England the work was undertaken, not by the Church as

such, but by two voluntary associations, the S.P.C.K. and the S.P.G.; in

Germany, not by the Lutheran Church, but by a few earnest Pietists; in

Denmark, not by the Church, but by the State; in Holland, not by the

Church, but by one or two pious Colonial Governors; and in Scotland,

neither by the Church nor by anyone else. At that time the whole work of

foreign missions was regarded as the duty, not of the Churches, but of

"Kings, Princes, and States." In England, Anglicans, Independents and

Baptists were all more or less indifferent. In Scotland the subject was

never mentioned; and even sixty years later a resolution to inquire into

the matter was rejected by the General Assembly {1796.}. In Germany the

Lutherans were either indifferent or hostile. In Denmark and Holland the

whole subject was treated with contempt. And the only Protestant Church

to recognize the duty was this little, struggling Renewed Church of the

Brethren. In this sense, therefore, and in this sense only, can we

call the Moravians the pioneers of modern missions. They were the first

Protestant Church in Christendom to undertake the conversion of the

heathen. They sent out their missionaries as authorised agents of the

Church. They prayed for the cause of missions in their Sunday Litany.

They had several missionary hymns in their Hymn-Book. They had regular

meetings to listen to the reading of missionaries' diaries and letters.

They discussed missionary problems at their Synods. They appointed

a Church Financial Committee to see to ways and means. They sent

out officially appointed "visitors" to inspect the work in various

countries. They were, in a word, the first Protestant Missionary Church

in history; and thus they set an inspiring example to all their stronger

sisters.

Again, this work of the Brethren was important because it was thorough

and systematic. At first the missionaries were compelled to go out with

very vague ideas of their duties. But in 1734 the Brethren published

"Instructions for the Colony in Georgia"; in 1737 "Instructions for

Missionaries to the East"; in 1738 "Instructions for all Missionaries";

and in 1740 "The Right Way to Convert the Heathen." Thus even during

those early years the Moravian missionaries were trained in missionary

work. They were told what Gospel to preach and how to preach it. "You

are not," said Zinzendorf, in his "Instructions," "to allow yourselves

to be blinded by the notion that the heathen must be taught first to

believe in God, and then afterwards in Jesus Christ. It is false. They

know already that there is a God. You must preach to them about the Son.

You must be like Paul, who knew nothing but Jesus and Him crucified. You

must speak constantly, in season, and out of season, of Jesus, the Lamb,

the Saviour; and you must tell them that the way to salvation is belief

in this Jesus, the Eternal Son of God." Instead of discussing doctrinal

questions the missionaries laid the whole stress on the person and

sacrifice of Christ. They avoided dogmatic language. They used the

language, not of the theological world, but of the Gospels. They

preached, not a theory of the Atonement, but the story of the Cross. "We

must," said Spangenberg, "hold to the fact that the blood and death of

Jesus are the diamond in the golden ring of the Gospel."

But alongside this Gospel message the Brethren introduced as far as

possible the stern system of moral discipline which already existed

at Herrnhut. They lived in daily personal touch with the people. They

taught them to be honest, obedient, industrious, and loyal to the

Government. They opened schools, taught reading and writing, and

instructed the girls in sewing and needlework. They divided their

congregations, not only into "Choirs," but also into "Classes." They

laid the stress, not on public preaching, but on the individual "cure of

souls." For this purpose they practised what was called "The Speaking."

At certain fixed seasons, i.e., the missionary, or one of his helpers,

had a private interview with each member of the congregation. The old

system of the Bohemian Brethren was here revived.[89] At these private

interviews there was no possibility of any moral danger. At the head of

the men was the missionary, at the head of the women his wife; for the

men there were male "Helpers," for the women female "Helpers"; and thus

all "speakings" took place between persons of the same sex only. There

were three degrees of discipline. For the first offence the punishment

was reproof; for the second, suspension from the Communion; for the

third, expulsion from the congregation. And thus the Brethren proved up

to the hilt that Christian work among the heathen was not mere waste of

time.

Again, this work was important because it was public. It was not done in

a corner. It was acted on the open stage of history. As these Brethren

laboured among the heathen, they were constantly coming into close

contact with Governors, with trading companies, and with Boards of

Control. In Greenland they were under Danish rule; in Surinam, under

Dutch; in North America, under English; in the West Indies, under

English, French, Danish, Dutch, Swedish, Spanish, Portuguese; and thus

they were teaching a moral lesson to the whole Western European world.

At that time the West Indian Islands were the gathering ground for all

the powers on the Atlantic seaboard of Europe. There, and there alone

in the world, they all had possessions; and there, in the midst of all

these nationalities, the Brethren accomplished their most successful

work. And the striking fact is that in each of these islands they gained

the approval of the Governor. They were the agents of an international

Church; they were free from all political complications; they could

never be suspected of treachery; they were law-abiding citizens

themselves, and taught their converts to be the same; and thus they

enjoyed the esteem and support of every great Power in Europe.

And this in turn had another grand result. It prepared the way for

Negro Emancipation. We must not, however, give the missionaries too much

credit. As Zinzendorf himself was a firm believer in slavery, we

need not be surprised to find that the Brethren never came forward as

champions of liberty. They never pleaded for emancipation. They never

encouraged their converts to expect it. They never talked about

the horrors of slavery. They never appealed, like Wilberforce, to

Parliament. And yet it was just these modest Brethren who did the

most to make emancipation possible. Instead of delivering inflamatory

speeches, and stirring up the hot-blooded negroes to rebellion, they

taught them rather to be industrious, orderly, and loyal, and thus show

that they were fit for liberty. If a slave disobeyed his master

they punished him. They acted wisely. If the Brethren had preached

emancipation they would simply have made their converts restive; and

these converts, by rebelling, would only have cut their own throats.

Again and again, in Jamaica and Antigua, the negroes rose in revolt; and

again and again the Governors noticed that the Moravian converts took no

part in the rebellion.

At last the news of these triumphs arrived in England; and the Privy

Council appointed a Committee to inquire into the state of the slave

trade in our West Indian possessions {1787.}. The Committee appealed

to the Brethren for information. The reply was drafted by Christian

Ignatius La Trobe. As La Trobe was then the English Secretary for

the Brethren's missions, he was well qualified to give the required

information. He described the Brethren's methods of work, pointed out

its results in the conduct of the negroes, and declared that all the

Brethren desired was liberty to preach the Gospel. "The Brethren," he

said, "never wish to interfere between masters and slaves." The ball

was now set fairly rolling. Dr. Porteous, Bishop of London, replied on

behalf of the Committee. He was an ardent champion of emancipation. He

thanked the Brethren for their information. He informed them how pleased

the Committee were with the Brethren's methods of work. At this very

time Wilberforce formed his resolution to devote his life to the

emancipation of the slaves. He opened his campaign in Parliament two

years later. He was a personal friend of La Trobe; he read his report;

and he backed up his arguments in Parliament by describing the good

results of Moravian work among the slaves. And thus the part played by

the Brethren was alike modest and effective. They taught the slaves to

be good; they taught them to be genuine lovers of law and order; they

made them fit for the great gift of liberty; and thus, by destroying

the stale old argument that emancipation was dangerous they removed the

greatest obstacle in Wilberforce's way.[90]

Again, this work of the Brethren was important in its influence on

several great English missionary pioneers. At missionary gatherings held

in England the statement is often made to-day that the first Englishman

to go out as a foreign missionary was William Carey, the leader of the

immortal "Serampore Three." It is time to explode that fiction. For some

years before William Carey was heard of a number of English Moravian

Brethren had gone out from these shores as foreign missionaries. In

Antigua laboured Samuel Isles, Joseph Newby, and Samuel Watson; in

Jamaica, George Caries and John Bowen; in St. Kitts and St. Croix, James

Birkby; in Barbados, Benjamin Brookshaw; in Labrador, William Turner,

James Rhodes, and Lister; and in Tobago, John Montgomery, the father of

James Montgomery, the well-known Moravian hymn-writer and poet. With

the single exception of George Caries, who seems to have had some Irish

blood in his veins, these early missionaries were as English as Carey

himself; and the greater number, as we can see from the names, were

natives of Yorkshire. Moreover, William Carey knew of their work. He

owed his inspiration partly to them; he referred to their work in his

famous pamphlet, "Enquiry into the Obligations of Christians to use

Means for the Conversion of the Heathens"; and finally, at the house

of Mrs. Beely Wallis, in Kettering, he threw down upon the table some

numbers of the first English missionary magazine,[91] "Periodical Accounts

relating to the Missions of the Church of the United Brethren," and,

addressing his fellow Baptist ministers, exclaimed: "See what the

Moravians have done! Can we not follow their example, and in obedience

to our heavenly Master go out into the world and preach the Gospel to

the heathen." The result was the foundation of the Baptist Missionary

Society.

His companion, Marshman, also confessed his obligations to the Brethren

{1792.}.

"Thank you! Moravians," he said, "you have done me good. If I am ever a

missionary worth a straw I shall, under our Saviour, owe it to you."

We have next the case of the London Missionary Society. Of that Society

one of the founders was Rowland Hill. He was well informed about the

labours of the Moravians; he corresponded with Peter Braun, the Moravian

missionary in Antigua; and to that correspondence he owed in part his

interest in missionary work. But that was not the end of the Brethren's

influence. At all meetings addressed by the founders of the proposed

Society, the speaker repeatedly enforced his arguments by quotations

from the Periodical Accounts; and finally, when the Society was

established, the founders submitted to La Trobe, the editor, the

following series of questions:--"1. How do you obtain your missionaries?

2. What is the true calling of a missionary? 3. What qualifications do

you demand in a missionary? 4. Do you demand scientific and theological

learning? 5. Do you consider previous instruction in Divine things an

essential? 6. How do you employ your missionaries from the time when

they are first called to the time when they set out? 7. Have you found

by experience that the cleverest and best educated men make the best

missionaries? 8. What do you do when you establish a missionary station?

Do you send men with their wives, or single people, or both? 9. What

have you found the most effective way of accomplishing the conversion of

the heathen? 10. Can you tell us the easiest way of learning a language?

11. How much does your missionary ship[92] cost you?" In reply, La Trobe

answered in detail, and gave a full description of the Brethren's

methods; and the first heralds of the London Missionary Society went out

with Moravian instructions in their pockets and Moravian experience to

guide them on their way.

We have next the case of Robert Moffatt, the missionary to Bechuanaland.

What was it that first aroused his missionary zeal? It was, he tells us,

the stories told him by his mother about the exploits of the Moravians!

In Germany the influence of the Brethren was equally great. At the

present time the greatest missionary forces in Germany are the Basel

and Leipzig Societies; and the interesting point to notice is that if

we only go far enough back in the story we find that each of these

societies owed its origin to Moravian influence.[93] From what did the

Basel Missionary Society spring? (1819). It sprang from an earlier

"Society for Christian Fellowship (1780)," and one object of that

earlier society was the support of Moravian Missions. But the influence

did not end here. At the meeting when the Basel Missionary Society was

formed, three Moravians--Burghardt, Götze, and Lörschke--were present,

the influence of the Brethren was specially mentioned, the work of

the Brethren was described, and the text for the day from the Moravian

textbook was read. In a similar way the Leipzig Missionary Society

sprang from a series of meetings held in Dresden, and in those

meetings several Moravians took a prominent part. By whom was the first

missionary college in history established? It was established at Berlin

by Jänicke {1800.}, and Jänicke had first been a teacher in the Moravian

Pædagogium at Niesky. By whom was the first Norwegian Missionary

Magazine--the Norsk Missionsblad--edited? By the Moravian minister,

Holm. From such facts as these we may draw one broad conclusion; and

that broad conclusion is that the Brethren's labours paved the way for

some of the greatest missionary institutions of modern times.

CHAPTER VII. -- THE PILGRIM BAND, 1736-1743.

As soon as Zinzendorf was banished from Saxony, he sought another sphere

of work. About thirty miles northeast of Frankfurt-on-the-Main there lay

a quaint and charming district known as the Wetterau, wherein stood two

old ruined castles, called Ronneburg and Marienborn. The owners of the

estate, the Counts of Isenberg, had fallen on hard times. They were deep

in debt; their estates were running to decay; the Ronneburg walls were

crumbling to pieces, and the out-houses, farms and stables were let out

to fifty-six dirty families of Jews, tramps, vagabonds and a mongrel

throng of scoundrels of the lowest class. As soon as the Counts heard

that Zinzendorf had been banished from Saxony, they kindly offered him

their estates on lease. They had two objects in view. As the Brethren

were pious, they would improve the people's morals; and as they were

good workers, they would raise the value of the land. The Count sent

Christian David to reconnoitre. Christian David brought back an evil

report. It was a filthy place, he said, unfit for respectable people.

But Zinzendorf felt that, filthy or not, it was the very spot which God

had chosen for his new work. It suited his high ideas. The more squalid

the people, the more reason there was for going.

"I will make this nest of vagabonds," he said, "the centre for the

universal religion of the Saviour. Christian," he asked, "haven't you

been in Greenland?"

"Ah, yes," replied Christian, who had been with the two Stachs, "if it

were only as good as it was in Greenland! But at Ronneburg Castle we

shall only die."

But the Count would not hear another word, went to see the place for

himself, closed with the terms of the Counts of Isenberg, and thus

commenced that romantic chapter in the Brethren's History called by some

German historians the Wetterau Time.

It was a time of many adventures. As the Count took up his quarters in

Ronneburg Castle, he brought with him a body of Brethren and Sisters

whom he called the "Pilgrim Band"; and there, on June 17th, 1736, he

preached his first sermon in the castle. It was now exactly fourteen

years since Christian David had felled the first tree at Herrnhut; and

now for another fourteen years these crumbling walls were to be the home

of Moravian life. What the members of the Pilgrim Band were we may know

from the very name. They were a travelling Church. They were a body of

Christians called to the task, in Zinzendorf's own words, "to proclaim

the Saviour to the world"; and the Count's noble motto was: "The earth

is the Lord's; all souls are His; I am debtor to all." There was a dash

of romance in that Pilgrim Band, and more than a dash of heroism. They

lived in a wild and eerie district. They slept on straw. They heard the

rats and mice hold revels on the worm-eaten staircases, and heard the

night wind howl and sough between the broken windows; and from those

ruined walls they went out to preach the tidings of the love of Christ

in the wigwams of the Indians and the snow-made huts of the Eskimos.

As charity, however, begins at home, the Count and his Brethren began

their new labours among the degraded rabble that lived in filth and

poverty round the castle. They conducted free schools for the children.

They held meetings for men and women in the vaults of the castle. They

visited the miserable gipsies in their dirty homes. They invited the

dirty little ragamuffins to tea, and the gipsies' children sat down at

table with the sons and daughters of the Count. They issued an order

forbidding begging, and twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, they

distributed food and clothing to the poor. One picture will illustrate

this strange campaign. Among the motley medley that lived about the

castle was an old grey-haired Jew, named Rabbi Abraham. One bright June

evening, Zinzendorf met him, stretched out his hand, and said: "Grey

hairs are a crown of glory. I can see from your head and the expression

of your eyes that you have had much experience both of heart and life.

In the name of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, let us be friends."

The old man was struck dumb with wonder. Such a greeting from a

Christian he had never heard before. He had usually been saluted with

the words, "Begone, Jew!" "His lips trembled; his voice failed; and big

tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks upon his flowing beard.

"Enough, father," said the Count; "we understand each other." And from

that moment the two were friends. The Count went to see him in his dirty

home, and ate black bread at his table. One morning, before dawn, as the

two walked out, the old patriarch opened his heart.

"My heart," said he, "is longing for the dawn. I am sick, yet know not

what is the matter with me. I am looking for something, yet know not

what I seek. I am like one who is chased, yet I see no enemy, except the

one within me, my old evil heart."

The Count opened his lips, and preached the Gospel of Christ. He painted

Love on the Cross. He described that Love coming down from holiness

and heaven. He told the old Jew, in burning words, how Christ had met

corrupted mankind, that man might become like God. As the old man wept

and wrung his hands, the two ascended a hill, whereon stood a lonely

church. And the sun rose, and its rays fell on the golden cross on the

church spire, and the cross glittered brightly in the light of heaven.

"See there, Abraham," said Zinzendorf, "a sign from heaven for you.

The God of your fathers has placed the cross in your sight, and now the

rising sun from on high has tinged it with heavenly splendour. Believe

on Him whose blood was shed by your fathers, that God's purpose of mercy

might be fulfilled, that you might be free from all sin, and find in Him

all your salvation."

"So be it," said the Jew, as a new light flashed on his soul. "Blessed

be the Lord who has had mercy upon me."

We have now to notice, step by step, how Zinzendorf, despite his

theories, restored the Moravian Church to vigorous life. His first move

was dramatic. As he strolled one day on the shore of the Baltic Sea, he

bethought him that the time had come to revive the Brethren's Episcopal

Orders in Germany. He wished to give his Brethren a legal standing.

In Saxony he had been condemned as a heretic; in Prussia he would be

recognized as orthodox; and to this intent he wrote to the King of

Prussia, Frederick William I., and asked to be examined in doctrine by

qualified Divines of the State Church. The King responded gladly. He had

been informed that the Count was a fool, and was, therefore, anxious to

see him; and now he sent him a messenger to say that he would be highly

pleased if Zinzendorf would come and dine with him at Wusterhausen.

"What did he say?" asked His Majesty of the messenger when that

functionary returned.

"Nothing," replied the messenger.

"Then," said the King, "he is no fool."

The Count arrived, and stayed three days. The first day the King was

cold; the second he was friendly; the third he was enthusiastic.

"The devil himself," he said to his courtiers, "could not have told

me more lies than I have been told about this Count. He is neither

a heretic nor a disturber of the peace. His only sin is that he, a

well-to-do Count, has devoted himself to the spread of the Gospel. I

will not believe another word against him. I will do all I can to help

him."

From that time Frederick William I. was Zinzendorf's fast friend. He

encouraged him to become a Bishop of the Brethren. The Count was still

in doubt. For some months he was terribly puzzled by the question

whether he could become a Moravian Bishop, and yet at the same time

be loyal to the Lutheran Church; and, in order to come to a right

conclusion, he actually came over to England and discussed the whole

thorny subject of Moravian Episcopal Orders with John Potter, Archbishop

of Canterbury. The Archbishop soon relieved his mind. He informed the

Count, first, that in his judgment the Moravian Episcopal Orders were

apostolic; and he informed him, secondly, that as the Brethren were

true to the teaching of the Augsburg Confession in Germany and the

Thirty-nine Articles in England, the Count could honestly become a

Bishop without being guilty of founding a new sect. The Count returned

to Germany. He was examined in the faith, by the King's command, by

two Berlin Divines. He came through the ordeal with flying colours, and

finally, on May 20th, he was ordained a Bishop of the Brethren's Church

by Bishop Daniel Ernest Jablonsky, Court Preacher at Berlin, and Bishop

David Nitschmann {1737.}.

The situation was now remarkable. As soon as Zinzendorf became a Bishop,

he occupied, in theory, a double position. He was a "Lutheran Bishop of

the Brethren's Church." On the one hand, like Jablonsky himself, he was

still a clergyman of the Lutheran Church; on the other, he was qualified

to ordain ministers in the Church of the Brethren. And the Brethren, of

course, laid stress on the latter point. They had now episcopal orders

of their own; they realized their standing as an independent church;

they objected to mere toleration as a sect; they demanded recognition as

an orthodox church. "We design," they wrote to the Counts of Isenberg,

"to establish a home for thirty or forty families from Herrnhut. We

demand full liberty in all our meetings; we demand full liberty

to practise our discipline and to have the sacraments, baptism and

communion administered by our own ministers, ordained by our own

Bohemo-Moravian Bishops." As the Counts agreed to these conditions the

Brethren now laid out near the castle a settlement after the Herrnhut

model, named it Herrnhaag, and made it a regular training-ground for the

future ministers of the Church. At Herrnhut the Brethren were under a

Lutheran Pastor; at Herrnhaag they were independent, and ordained their

own men for the work. They erected a theological training college,

with Spangenberg as head. They had a pædagogium for boys, with Polycarp

Müller as Rector. They had also a flourishing school for girls. For

ten years this new settlement at Herrnhaag was the busiest centre of

evangelistic zeal in the world. At the theological college there were

students from every university in Germany. At the schools there were

over 600 children, and the Brethren had to issue a notice that they

had no room for more. The whole place was a smithy. There the spiritual

weapons were forged for service in the foreign field. "Up, up,"

Spangenberg would say to the young men at sunrise, "we have no time for

dawdling. Why sleep ye still? Arise, young lions!"

And now the Count had a strange adventure, which spurred him to another

step forward. As there were certain sarcastic people in Germany who

said that Zinzendorf, though willing enough to send out others to die

of fever in foreign climes, was content to bask in comfort at home, he

determined now to give the charge the lie. He had travelled already

on many a Gospel journey. He had preached to crowds in Berlin; he

had preached in the Cathedral at Reval, in Livonia, and had made

arrangements for the publication of an Esthonian Bible; and now he

thought he must go to St. Thomas, where Friedrich Martin, the apostle

to the negroes, had built up the strongest congregation in the Mission

Field. He consulted the Lot; the Lot said "Yes," and off he set on his

journey. The ship flew as though on eagle's wings. As they neared the

island, the Count turned to his companion, and said: "What if we find no

one there? What if the missionaries are all dead?"

"Then we are there," replied Weber.

"Gens aeterna, these Moravians," exclaimed the Count.

He landed on the island {Jan. 29th, 1739.}.

"Where are the Brethren?" said he to a negro.

"They are all in prison," was the startling answer.

"How long?" asked the Count.

"Over three months."

"What are the negroes doing in the meantime?"

"They are making good progress, and a great revival is going on. The

very imprisonment of the teachers is a sermon."

For three months the Count was busy in St. Thomas. He burst into the

Governor's castle "like thunder," and nearly frightened him out of his

wits. He had brought with him a document signed by the King of Denmark,

in which the Brethren were authorized to preach in the Danish West

Indies. He had the prisoners released. He had the whole work in the

Danish West Indies placed on a legal basis. He made the acquaintance

of six hundred and seventy negroes. He was amazed and charmed by all he

saw. "St. Thomas," he wrote, "is a greater marvel than Herrnhut." For

the last three years that master missionary, Friedrich Martin, the

"Apostle to the Negroes," had been continuing the noble work begun by

Leonard Dober; and, in spite of the fierce opposition of the planters

and also of the Dutch Reformed Church, had established a number of

native congregations. He had opened a school for negro boys, and had

thus taken the first step in the education of West Indian slaves. He had

taught his people to form societies for Bible study and prayer; and

now the Count put the finishing touch to the work. He introduced the

Herrnhut system of discipline. He appointed one "Peter" chief Elder of

the Brethren, and "Magdalene" chief Elder of the Sisters. He gave some

to be helpers, some to be advisers, and some to be distributors of alms;

and he even introduced the system of incessant hourly prayer. And then,

before he took his leave, he made a notable speech. He had no such

conception as "Negro emancipation." He regarded slavery as a Divinely

appointed system. "Do your work for your masters," he said, "as though

you were working for yourselves. Remember that Christ has given every

man his work. The Lord has made kings, masters, servants and slaves. It

is the duty of each of us to be content with the station in which God

has placed him. God punished the first negroes by making them slaves."

For the work in St. Thomas this visit was important; for the work at

home it was still more so. As the Count returned from his visit in St.

Thomas, he saw more clearly than ever that if the Brethren were to do

their work aright, they must justify their conduct and position in the

eyes of the law. His views had broadened; he had grander conceptions of

their mission; he began the practice of summoning them to Synods, and

thus laid the foundations of modern Moravian Church life.

At the first Synod, held at Ebersdorf (June, 1739), the Count expounded

his views at length {1739.}. He informed the Brethren, in a series of

brilliant and rather mystifying speeches, that there were now three

"religions" in Germany--the Lutheran, the Reformed and the Moravian;

but that their duty and mission in the world was, not to restore the old

Church of the Brethren, but rather to gather the children of God into a

mystical, visionary, ideal fellowship which he called the "Community of

Jesus." For the present, he said, the home of this ideal "Gemeine" would

be the Moravian Church. At Herrnhut and other places in Saxony it would

be a home for Lutherans; at Herrnhaag it would be a home for Calvinists;

and then, when it had done its work and united all the children of God,

it could be conveniently exploded. He gave the Moravian Church a rather

short life. "For the present," he said, "the Saviour is manifesting His

Gemeine to the world in the outward form of the Moravian Church; but in

fifty years that Church will be forgotten." It is doubtful how far his

Brethren understood him. They listened, admired, wondered, gasped and

quietly went their own way.

At the second Synod, held at the Moor Hotel in Gotha, the Count

explained his projects still more clearly {1740.}, and made the most

astounding speech that had yet fallen from his lips. "It is," he

declared, "the duty of our Bishops to defend the rights of the

Protestant Moravian Church, and the duty of all the congregation to

be loyal to that Church. It is absolutely necessary, for the sake of

Christ's work, that our Church be recognized as a true Church. She is a

true Church of God; she is in the world to further the Saviour's cause;

and people can belong to her just as much as to any other." If these

words meant anything at all, they meant, of course, that Zinzendorf,

like the Moravians themselves, insisted on the independent existence of

the Moravian Church; and, to prove that he really did mean this, he had

Polycarp Müller consecrated a Bishop. And yet, at the same time, the

Count insisted that the Brethren were not to value their Church for her

own sake. They were not to try to extend the Church as such; they were

not to proselytize from other Churches; they were to regard her rather

as a house of call for the "scattered" in all the churches;[94] and, above

all, they must ever remember that as soon as they had done their work

their Church would cease to exist. If this puzzles the reader he must

not be distressed. It was equally puzzling to some of Zinzendorf's

followers. Bishop Polycarp Müller confessed that he could never

understand it. At bottom, however, the Count's idea was clear. He

still had a healthy horror of sects and splits; he still regarded the

Brethren's Church as a "Church within the Church"; he still insisted,

with perfect truth, that as they had no distinctive doctrine they could

not be condemned as a nonconforming sect; and the goal for which he was

straining was that wheresoever the Brethren went they should endeavour

not to extend their own borders, but rather to serve as a bond of union

evangelical Christians of all denominations.

Next year, at a Synod at Marienborn, the Count explained how this

wonderful work was to be done {1740.}. What was the bond of union to be?

It was certainly not a doctrine. Instead of making the bond of union a

doctrine, as so many Churches have done, the Brethren made it personal

experience. Where creeds had failed experience would succeed. If men,

they said, were to be united in one grand evangelical Church, it would

be, not by a common creed, but by a common threefold experience--a

common experience of their own misery and sin; a common experience of

the redeeming grace of Christ; and a common experience of the religious

value of the Bible. To them this personal experience was the one

essential. They had no rigid doctrine to impose. They did not regard any

of the standard creeds as final. They did not demand subscription to a

creed as a test. They had no rigid doctrine of the Atonement or of the

Divinity of Christ; they had no special process of conversion; and, most

striking of all, they had no rigid doctrine of the inspiration of the

Bible. They did not believe either in verbal inspiration or in Biblical

infallibility. They declared that the famous words, "all Scripture is

given by inspiration of God," must be taken in a free and broad way.

They held that, though the Bible was inspired, it contained mistakes in

detail; that the teaching of St. James was in flat contradiction to the

teaching of St. Paul; and that even the Apostles sometimes made a wrong

application of the prophecies. To them the value of the Bible consisted,

not in its supposed infallibility, but in its appeal to their hearts.

"The Bible," they declared, "is a never-failing spring for the heart;

and the one thing that authenticates the truth of its message is the

fact that what is said in the book is confirmed by the experience of the

heart." How modern this sounds.

But how was this universal experience to be attained? The Count had

his answer ready. He had studied the philosophical works of Spinoza and

Bayle. He was familiar with the trend of the rationalistic movement. He

was aware that to thousands, both inside and outside the Church, the

God whom Jesus called "Our Father" was no more than a cold philosophical

abstraction; and that many pastors in the Lutheran Church, instead

of trying to make God a reality, were wasting their time in spinning

abstruse speculations, and discussing how many legions of angels could

stand on the point of a needle. As this sort of philosophy rather

disgusted Zinzendorf, he determined to frame a theology of his own; and

thereby he arrived at the conclusion that the only way to teach men to

love God was "to preach the Creator of the World under no other shape

than that of a wounded and dying Lamb." He held that the Suffering

Christ on the Cross was the one perfect expression and revelation of the

love of God; he held that the title "Lamb of God" was the favourite name

for Christ in the New Testament; he held that the central doctrine of

the faith was the "Ransom" paid by Christ in His sufferings and death;

and, therefore, he began to preach himself, and taught his Brethren to

preach as well, the famous "Blood and Wounds Theology."

And now, at a Synod held in London, the Brethren cleared the decks

for action, and took their stand on the stage of history as a free,

independent Church of Christ {1741.}. The situation was alarming. Of all

the Protestant Churches in Europe, the Church of the Brethren was the

broadest in doctrine and the most independent in action; and yet, during

the last few years, the Brethren were actually in danger of bending the

knee to a Pope. The Pope in question was Leonard Dober. At the time

when Herrnhut was founded, the Brethren had elected a governing board of

twelve Elders. Of these twelve Elders, four Over-Elders were set apart

for spiritual purposes; and of these four Over-Elders, one was specially

chosen as Chief Elder. The first Chief Elder was Augustin Neisser, and

the second Martin Linner. As long as the office lay in Linner's hands,

there was no danger of the Chief Elder becoming a Pope. He was poor; he

was humble; he was weak in health; and he spent his time in praying for

the Church and attending to the spiritual needs of the Single Brethren.

But gradually the situation altered. For the last six years the office

had been held by Leonard Dober. He had been elected by Lot, and was,

therefore, supposed to possess Divine authority. He was General Elder

of the whole Brethren's Church. He had become the supreme authority in

spiritual matters. He had authority over Zinzendorf himself, over all

the Bishops, over all the members of the Pilgrim Band, over all Moravian

Brethren at Herrnhut, over the pioneers in England and North America,

over the missionaries in Greenland, the West Indies, South Africa and

Surinam. He had become a spiritual referee. As the work extended, his

duties and powers increased. He was Elder, not merely of the Brethren's

Church, but of that ideal "Community of Jesus" which ever swam before

the vision of the Count. He was becoming a court of appeal in cases

of dispute. Already disagreements were rising among the Brethren. At

Herrnhut dwelt the old-fashioned, sober, strict Moravians. At Herrnhaag

the Brethren, with their freer notions, were already showing dangerous

signs of fanaticism. At Pilgerruh, in Holstein, another body were being

tempted to break from the Count altogether. And above these disagreeing

parties the General Elder sat supreme. His position had become

impossible. He was supposed to be above all party disputes; he was the

friend of all, the intercessor for all, the broad-minded ideal Brother;

and yet, if an actual dispute arose, he would be expected to give a

binding decision. For these manifold duties Dober felt unfit; he had no

desire to become a Protestant Pope; and, therefore, being a modest man,

he wrote to the Conference at Marienborn, and asked for leave to lay

down his office. The question was submitted to the Lot. The Lot allowed

Dober to resign. The situation was now more dangerous than ever. The

Brethren were in a quandary. They could never do without a General

Elder. If they did they would cease to be a true "Community of Jesus,"

and degenerate into a mere party-sect. At last, at a house in Red Lion

Street, London, they met to thrash out the question. For the third time

a critical question was submitted to the decision of the Lot {Sept.

16th, 1741.}. "As we began to think about the Eldership," says

Zinzendorf himself, in telling the story, "it occurred to us to accept

the Saviour as Elder. At the beginning of our deliberations we opened

the Textbook. On the one page stood the words, 'Let us open the door to

Christ'; on the other, 'Thus saith the Lord, etc.; your Master, etc.;

show me to my children and to the work of my hands. Away to Jesus! Away!

etc.' Forthwith and with one consent we resolved to have no other than

Him as our General Elder. He sanctioned it.[95] It was just Congregation

Day. We looked at the Watchword for the day. It ran: 'The glory of the

Lord filled the house. We bow before the Lamb's face, etc.' We asked

permission.[96] We obtained it. We sang with unequalled emotion: 'Come,

then, for we belong to Thee, and bless us inexpressibly.'" As the story

just quoted was written by the poetic Count, it has been supposed that

in recording this famous event he added a spiritual flavour of his own.

But in this case he was telling the literal truth. At that Conference

the Brethren deliberately resolved to ask Christ to undertake the office

which had hitherto been held by Leonard Dober; and, to put the matter

beyond all doubt, they inscribed on their minutes the resolution: "That

the office of General Elder be abolished, and be transferred to the

Saviour."[97] At first sight that resolution savours both of blasphemy and

of pride; and Ritschl, the great theologian, declares that the Brethren

put themselves on a pedestal above all other Churches. For that judgment

Moravian writers have largely been to blame. It has been asserted

again and again that on that famous "Memorial Day" the Brethren made a

"special covenant" with Christ. For that legend Bishop Spangenberg was

partly responsible. As that godly writer, some thirty years later,

was writing the story of these transactions, he allowed his pious

imagination to cast a halo over the facts; and, therefore, he penned

the misleading sentence that the chief concern of the Brethren was that

Christ "would condescend to enter into a special covenant with His

poor Brethren's people, and take us as his peculiar property." For that

statement there is not a shadow of evidence. The whole story of the

"special covenant" is a myth. In consulting the Lot the Brethren showed

their faith; in passing their resolution they showed their wisdom; and

the meaning of the resolution was that henceforth the Brethren rejected

all human authority in spiritual matters, recognized Christ alone as the

Head of the Church, and thereby became the first free Church in Europe.

Instead of bowing to any human authority they proceeded now to manage

their own affairs; they elected by Lot a Conference of Twelve, and

thus laid the foundations of that democratic system of government which

exists at the present day. They were thrilled with the joy of their

experience; they felt that now, at length, they were free indeed;

they resolved that the joyful news should be published in all the

congregations on the same day (November 13th); and henceforward that day

was held in honour as the day when the Brethren gained their freedom and

bowed to the will and law of Christ alone.

And now there was only one more step to take. As soon as the Synod in

London was over, Count Zinzendorf set off for America in pursuit of a

scheme to be mentioned in its proper place; and as soon as he was safely

out of the way, the Brethren at home set about the task of obtaining

recognition by the State. They had an easy task before them. For the

last ninety-four years--ever since the Peace of Westphalia (1648)--the

ruling principle in German had been that each little king and each

little prince should settle what the religion should be in his own

particular dominions. If the King was a Lutheran, his people must be

Lutheran; if the King was Catholic, his people must be Catholic. But now

this principle was suddenly thrown overboard. The new King of Prussia,

Frederick the Great, was a scoffer. For religion Frederick the Great

cared nothing; for the material welfare of his people he cared a good

deal. He had recently conquered Silesia; he desired to see his land

well tilled, and his people happy and good; and, therefore, he readily

granted the Brethren a "Concession," allowing them to settle in Prussia

and Silesia {Dec. 25th, 1742.}. His attitude was that of the practical

business man. As long as the Brethren obeyed the law, and fostered

trade, they could worship as they pleased. For all he cared, they might

have prayed to Beelzebub. He granted them perfect liberty of conscience;

he allowed them to ordain their own ministers; he informed them that

they would not be subject to the Lutheran consistory; and thus, though

not in so many words, he practically recognized the Brethren as a free

and independent Church. For the future history of the Brethren's Church,

this "Concession" was of vast importance. In one sense it aided their

progress; in another it was a fatal barrier. As the Brethren came to

be known as good workmen, other magnates speedily followed the king's

example; for particular places particular "concessions" were prepared;

and thus the Brethren were encouraged to extend their "settlement

system." Instead, therefore, of advancing from town to town, the

Brethren concentrated their attention on the cultivation of settlement

life; and before many years had passed away they had founded settlements

at Niesky, Gnadenberg, Gnadenfrei, and Neusalz-on-the-Oder.

Thus, then, had the Brethren sketched the plan of all their future work.

They had regained their episcopal orders. They had defined their mission

in the world. They had chosen their Gospel message. They had asserted

their freedom of thought. They had won the goodwill of the State. They

had adopted the "settlement system." They had begun their Diaspora work

for the scattered, and their mission work for the heathen; and thus

they had revived the old Church of the Brethren, and laid down those

fundamental principles which have been maintained down to the present

day.

Meanwhile their patriotic instincts had been confirmed. As Christian

David had brought Brethren from Moravia, so Jan Gilek brought Brethren

from Bohemia; and the story of his romantic adventures aroused fresh

zeal for the ancient Church. He had fled from Bohemia to Saxony, and had

often returned, like Christian David, to fetch bands of Brethren. He had

been captured in a hay-loft by Jesuits. He had been imprisoned for two

years at Leitomischl. He had been kept in a dungeon swarming with frogs,

mice and other vermin. He had been fed with hot bread that he

might suffer from colic. He had been employed as street sweeper in

Leitomischl, with his left hand chained to his right foot. At length,

however, he made his escape (1735), fled to Gerlachseim, in Silesia,

and finally, along with other Bohemian exiles, helped to form a new

congregation at Rixdorf, near Berlin. As the Brethren listened to

Gilek's story their zeal for the Church of their fathers was greater

than ever; and now the critical question was, what would Zinzendorf say

to all this when he returned from America?

CHAPTER VIII. -- THE SIFTING TIME, 1743-1750.

As the Count advanced towards middle age, he grew more domineering in

tone, more noble in his dreams, and more foolish in much of his conduct.

He was soon to shine in each of these three lights. He returned from

America in a fury. For two years he had been busy in Pennsylvania in

a brave, but not very successful, attempt to establish a grand

"Congregation of God in the Spirit"; and now he heard, to his deep

disgust, that his Brethren in Europe had lowered the ideal of the

Church, and made vulgar business bargains with worldly powers. What

right, he asked, had the Brethren to make terms with an Atheist King?

What right had they to obtain these degrading "concessions?" The whole

business, he argued, smacked of simony. If the Brethren made terms

with kings at all, they should take their stand, not, forsooth, as good

workmen who would help to fatten the soil, but rather as loyal adherents

of the Augsburg Confession. At Herrnhaag they had turned the Church into

a business concern! Instead of paying rent to the Counts of Isenburg,

they now had the Counts in their power. They had lent them large sums of

money; they held their estates as security; and now, in return for these

financial favours, the Counts had kindly recognized the Brethren as "the

orthodox Episcopal Moravian Church." The more Zinzendorf heard of these

business transactions, the more disgusted he was. He stormed and rated

like an absolute monarch, and an absolute monarch he soon became. He

forgot that before he went away he had entrusted the management of

home affairs to a Board of Twelve. He now promptly dissolved the Board,

summoned the Brethren to a Synod at Hirschberg, lectured them angrily

for their sins, reduced them to a state of meek submission, and was ere

long officially appointed to the office of "Advocate and Steward of

all the Brethren's Churches." He had now the reins of government in his

hands {1743.}. "Without your foreknowledge," ran this document, "nothing

new respecting the foundation shall come up in our congregations, nor

any conclusion of importance to the whole shall be valid; and no further

story shall be built upon your fundamental plan of the Protestant

doctrine of the Augsburg Confession, and that truthing(sp.)it in love

with all Christians, without consulting you."

He proceeded now to use these kingly powers. He accused the Brethren of

two fundamental errors. Instead of trying to gather Christians into one

ideal "Community of Jesus," they had aimed at the recognition of the

independent Moravian Church; and instead of following the guidance of

God, they had followed the dictates of vulgar worldly wisdom. He would

cure them of each of these complaints. He would cure them of their

narrow sectarian views, and cure them of their reliance on worldly

wisdom.

For the first complaint he offered the remedy known as his "Tropus

Idea." The whole policy of Zinzendorf lies in those two words. He

expounded it fully at a Synod in Marienborn. The more he studied Church

history in general, the more convinced he became that over and above all

the Christian Churches there was one ideal universal Christian Church;

that that ideal Church represented the original religion of Christ; and

that now the true mission of the Brethren was to make that ideal Church

a reality on God's fair earth. He did not regard any of the Churches of

Christ as Churches in this higher sense of the term. He regarded them

rather as religious training grounds. He called them, not Churches,

but tropuses. He called the Lutheran Church a tropus; he called the

Calvinistic Church a tropus; he called the Moravian Church a tropus; he

called the Pilgrim Band a tropus; he called the Memnonites a tropus; and

by this word "tropus" he meant a religious school in which Christians

were trained for membership in the one true Church of Christ. He would

not have one of these tropuses destroyed. He regarded them all as

essential. He honoured them all as means to a higher end. He would never

try to draw a man from his tropus. And now he set a grand task before

the Brethren. As the Brethren had no distinctive creed, and taught the

original religion of Christ, they must now, he said, regard it as their

Divine mission to find room within their broad bosom for men from all

the tropuses. They were not merely to restore the Moravian Church; they

were to establish a broader, comprehensive Church, to be known as the

"Church of the Brethren"; and that Church would be composed of men from

every tropus under heaven. Some would be Lutherans, some Reformed, some

Anglicans, some Moravians, some Memnonites, some Pilgrims in the foreign

field. For this purpose, and for this purpose only, he now revived the

old Brethren's ministerial orders of Presbyter, Deacon and Acoluth; and

when these men entered on their duties he informed them that they

were the servants, not merely of the Moravian Church, but of the wider

"Church of the Brethren." If the Count could now have carried out his

scheme, he would have had men from various Churches at the head of each

tropus in the Church of the Brethren. For the present he did the best he

could, and divided the Brethren into three leading tropuses. At the head

of the Moravian tropus was Bishop Polycarp Müller; at the head of the

Lutheran, first he himself, and then, later, Dr. Hermann, Court Preacher

at Dresden; and finally, at the head of the Reformed, first his old

friend Bishop Friedrich de Watteville, and then, later, Thomas Wilson,

Bishop of Sodor and Man.[98] His scheme was now fairly clear. "In future,"

he said, "we are all to be Brethren, and our Bishops must be Brethren's

Bishops; and, therefore, in this Church of the Brethren there will

henceforth be, not only Moravians, but also Lutherans and Calvinists,

who cannot find peace in their own Churches on account of brutal

theologians."

His second remedy was worse than the disease. The great fault in

Zinzendorf's character was lack of ballast. For the last few years

he had given way to the habit of despising his own common sense; and

instead of using his own judgment he now used the Lot. He had probably

learned this habit from the Halle Pietists. He carried his Lot apparatus

in his pocket;[99] he consulted it on all sorts of topics; he regarded

it as the infallible voice of God. "To me," said he, in a letter to

Spangenberg, "the Lot and the Will of God are simply one and the same

thing. I am not wise enough to seek God's will by my own mental efforts.

I would rather trust an innocent piece of paper than my own feelings."

He now endeavoured to teach this faith to his Brethren. He founded a

society called "The Order of the Little Fools," {June 2nd, 1743.} and

before very long they were nearly all "little fools." His argument

here was astounding. He appealed to the well-known words of Christ

Himself.[100] As God, he contended, had revealed His will, not to wise

men, but to babes, it followed that the more like babes the Brethren

became, the more clearly they would understand the mysteries of grace.

They were not to use their own brains; they were to wish that they had

no brains; they were to be like children in arms; and thus they would

overcome all their doubts and banish all their cares. The result was

disastrous. It led to the period known as the "Sifting Time." It is the

saddest period in the history of the Brethren's Church. For seven years

these Brethren took leave of their senses, and allowed their feelings

to lead them on in the paths of insensate folly. They began by taking

Zinzendorf at his word. They used diminutives for nearly everything.

They addressed the Count as "Papa" and "Little Papa"; they spoke of

Christ as "Brother Lambkin";[101] and they described themselves as

little wound-parsons, cross-wood little splinters, a blessed troop of

cross-air[102] birds, cross-air little atoms, cross-air little sponges,

and cross-air little pigeons.

The chief sinner was the Count himself. Having thrown his common

sense overboard, he gave free rein to his fancy, and came out with an

exposition of the Holy Trinity which offended the rules of good taste.

He compared the Holy Trinity to a family. The father, said he, was God;

the mother was the Holy Ghost; their son was Jesus; and the Church of

Christ, the Son's fair bride, was born in the Saviour's Side-wound,

was betrothed to Christ on the Cross, was married to Christ in the Holy

Communion, and was thus the daughter-in-law of the Father and the Holy

Ghost. We can all see the dangers of this. As soon as human images

of spiritual truths are pressed beyond decent limits, they lead to

frivolity and folly; and that was just the effect at Herrnhaag. The more

freely the Brethren used these phrases, the more childish they became.

They called the Communion the "Embracing of the Man"; and thus they lost

their reverence for things Divine.

But the next move of the Count was even worse. For its origin we must go

back a few years in his story. As the Count one day was burning a pile

of papers he saw one slip flutter down to the ground untouched by the

fire {1734.}. He picked it up, looked at it, and found that it contained

the words:--

"Oh, let us in Thy nail-prints see

Our pardon and election free."

At first the effect on Zinzendorf was healthy enough. He regarded the

words as a direct message from God. He began to think more of the value

of the death of Christ. He altered the style of his preaching; he became

more definitely evangelical; and henceforth he taught the doctrine that

all happiness and all virtue must centre in the atoning death of Christ.

"Since the year 1734," he said, "the atoning sacrifice of Jesus became

our only testimony and our one means of salvation." But now he carried

this doctrine to excess. Again the cause was his use of the Lot. As long

as Zinzendorf used his own mental powers, he was able to make his "Blood

and Wounds Theology" a power for good; but as soon as he bade good-bye

to his intellect he made his doctrine a laughing-stock and a scandal.

Instead of concentrating his attention on the moral and spiritual value

of the cross, he now began to lay all the stress on the mere physical

details. He composed a "Litany of the Wounds"; and the Brethren could

now talk and sing of nothing else {1743.}. "We stick," they said, "to

the Blood and Wounds Theology. We will preach nothing but Jesus the

Crucified. We will look for nothing else in the Bible but the Lamb and

His Wounds, and again Wounds, and Blood and Blood." Above all they began

to worship the Side-wound. "We stick," they declared, "to the Lambkin

and His little Side-wound. It is useless to call this folly. We dote

upon it. We are in love with it. We shall stay for ever in the little

side-hole, where we are so unspeakably blessed."

Still worse, these men now forgot the main moral principle of the

Christian religion. Instead of living for others they lived for

themselves. Instead of working hard for their living they were now

enjoying themselves at the Count's expense; instead of plain living

and high thinking they had high living and low thinking; and instead

of spending their money on the poor they spent it now on grand

illuminations, transparent pictures, and gorgeous musical festivals.

No longer was their religion a discipline. It was a luxury, an orgy,

a pastime. At Herrnhut the ruling principle was law; at Herrnhaag the

ruling principle was liberty. At Herrnhut their religion was legal;

at Herrnhaag it was supposed to be evangelical. The walls of their

meeting-house were daubed with flaming pictures. In the centre of the

ceiling was a picture of the Ascension; in one corner, Mary Magdalene

meeting Jesus on the Resurrection morning; in another, our Lord

making himself known to the two disciples at Emmaus; in a third Thomas

thrusting his hand in the Saviour's side; in a fourth, Peter leaping

from a boat to greet the Risen Master on the shores of the Lake of

Tiberias. The four walls were equally gorgeous. At one end of the hall

was a picture of the Jew's Passover, some Hebrews sprinkling blood on

the door-posts, and the destroying angel passing. At the opposite end

was a picture of the Last Supper; on another wall Moses lifting up the

brazen serpent; on the fourth the Crucifixion. We can easily see the

purpose of these pictures. They were all meant to teach the same great

lesson. They were appeals through the eye to the heart. They were

sermons in paint. If the Brethren had halted here they had done well.

But again they rode their horse to death. For them pictures and hymns

were not enough. At Marienborn Castle they now held a series of birthday

festivals in honour of Zinzendorf, Anna Nitschmann and other Moravian

worthies; and these festivals must have cost thousands of pounds. At

such times the old castle gleamed with a thousand lights. At night,

says a visitor, the building seemed on fire. The walls were hung with

festoons. The hall was ornamented with boughs. The pillars were decked

with lights, spirally disposed, and the seats were covered with fine

linen, set off with sightly ribbons.

But the worst feature of this riotous life is still to be mentioned.

If there is any topic requiring delicate treatment, it is surely the

question of sexual morality; and now the Count made the great mistake

of throwing aside the cloak of modesty and speaking out on sins of

the flesh in the plainest possible language. He delivered a series of

discourses on moral purity; and in those discourses he used expressions

which would hardly be permitted now except in a medical treatise. His

purpose was certainly good. He contended that he had the Bible on his

side; that the morals of the age were bad; and that the time for

plain speaking had come. "At that time," he said, "when the Brethren's

congregations appeared afresh on the horizon of the Church, he found,

on the one hand, the lust of concupiscence carried to the utmost pitch

possible, and the youth almost totally ruined; and on the other hand

some few thoughtful persons who proposed a spirituality like the

angels." But again the Brethren rode their horse to death. They were

not immoral, they were only silly. They talked too freely about these

delicate topics; they sang about them in their hymns; they had these

hymns published in a volume known as the "Twelfth Appendix" to their

Hymn-book; and thus they innocently gave the public the impression that

they revelled, for its own sake, in coarse and filthy language.

What judgment are we to pass on all these follies? For the Brethren

we may fairly enter the plea that most of them were humble and

simple-minded men; that, on the whole, they meant well; and that, in

their zeal for the Gospel of Christ, they allowed their feelings to

carry them away. And further, let us bear in mind that, despite their

foolish style of speech, they were still heroes of the Cross. They

had still a burning love for Christ; they were still willing to serve

abroad; and they still went out to foreign lands, and laid down their

lives for the sake of Him who had laid down His for them. As John

Cennick was on his visit to Herrnhaag (1746), he was amazed by the

splendid spirit of devotion shown. He found himself at the hub of the

missionary world. He saw portraits of missionaries on every hand. He

heard a hymn sung in twenty-two different languages. He heard sermons in

German, Esthonian, French, Spanish, Swedish, Lettish, Bohemian, Dutch,

Hebrew, Danish, and Eskimo. He heard letters read from missionaries in

every quarter of the globe.

"Are you ready," said Zinzendorf to John Soerensen, "to serve the

Saviour in Greenland?"

"Here am I, send me," said Soerensen. He had never thought of such a

thing before.

"But the matter is pressing; we want someone to go at once."

"Well!" replied Soerensen, "that's no difficulty. If you will only get

me a new pair of boots I will set off this very day. My old ones are

quite worn out, and I have not another pair to call my own."

And the next day the man was off, and served in Greenland forty-six

years.

But the grandest case is that of Bishop Cammerhof. He was a fanatic

of the fanatics. He revelled in sickly sentimental language. He called

himself a "Little Fool" and a "Little Cross-air Bird." He addressed the

Count as his "heart's Papa," and Anna Nitschmann as his "Motherkin."

He said he would kiss them a thousand times, and vowed he could never

fondle them enough! And yet this man had the soul of a hero, and killed

himself by overwork among the North American Indians![103] It is easy to

sneer at saints like this as fools; but if fools they were, they were

fools for their Master's sake.

But for Zinzendorf it is hard to find any excuse. He had received a

splendid education, had moved in refined and cultured circles, and had

enjoyed the friendship of learned bishops, of eloquent preachers, of

university professors, of philosophers, of men of letters. He had read

the history of the Christian Church, knew the dangers of excess, and had

spoken against excess in his earlier years.[104] He knew that the Wetterau

swarmed with mad fanatics; had read the works of Dippel, of Rock, and of

other unhealthy writers; and had, therefore, every reason to be on his

guard. He knew the weak points in his own character. "I have," he said,

"a genius for extravagance." He had deliberately, of his own free will,

accepted the office of "Advocate and Steward" of the Brethren's Church.

He was the head of an ancient episcopal Church, with a high reputation

to sustain. He had set the Brethren a high and holy task. He was a

public and well-known character. As he travelled about from country to

country he spread the fame of the Brethren's labours in every great city

in Germany, in England, in Switzerland, in North America, and in the

West Indies; and by this time he was known personally to the King

of Denmark, to Potter, Archbishop of Canterbury, to John and Charles

Wesley, to Bengel, the famous commentator, and to many other leaders in

the Lutheran Church. And, therefore, by all the laws of honour, he was

bound to lead the Brethren upward and keep their record clean. But his

conduct now was unworthy of a trusted leader. It is the darkest blot on

his saintly character, and the chief reason why his brilliant schemes

met with so little favour. At the very time when he placed before the

Brethren the noblest and loftiest ideals, he himself had done the most

to cause the enemy to blaspheme. No wonder his Tropus idea was laughed

to scorn. What sort of home was this, said his critics, that he had

prepared for all the Tropuses? What grand ideal "Church of the Brethren"

was this, with its childish nonsense, its blasphemous language, its

objectionable hymns? As the rumours of the Brethren's excesses spread,

all sorts of wild tales were told about them. Some said they were

worshippers of the devil; some said they were conspirators against the

State; some accused them falsely of immorality, of gluttony, of robbing

the poor; and the chief cause of all the trouble was this beautiful

poet, this original thinker, this eloquent preacher, this noble

descendant of a noble line, this learned Bishop of the Brethren's

Church. There is only one explanation of his conduct. He had committed

mental suicide, and he paid the penalty.[105]

He had now to retrieve his fallen honour, and to make amends for his

guilt. At last he awoke to the stern facts of the case. His position now

was terrible. What right had he to lecture the Brethren for sins which

he himself had taught them to commit? He shrank from the dreadful task.

But the voice of duty was not to be silenced. He had not altogether

neglected the Brethren's cause. At the very time when the excesses were

at their height he had been endeavouring to obtain for the Brethren full

legal recognition in Germany, England, and North America. He won his

first victory in Germany. He was allowed (Oct., 1747) to return to

Saxony, summoned the Brethren to a Synod at Gross-Krausche in Silesia

(1748), and persuaded them to promise fidelity to the Augsburg

Confession. He had the Brethren's doctrine and practice examined by a

Saxon Royal Commission, and the King of Saxony issued a decree (1749) by

which the Brethren were granted religious liberty in his kingdom. Thus

the Brethren were now fully recognized by law in Prussia, Silesia, and

Saxony. He had obtained these legal privileges just in time, and could

now deal with the poor fanatics at Herrnhaag. The situation there

had come to a crisis. The old Count of Isenberg died. His successor,

Gustavus Friedrich, was a weak-minded man; the agent, Brauer, detested

the Brethren; and now Brauer laid down the condition that the settlers

at Herrnhaag must either break off their connection with Zinzendorf or

else abandon the premises. They chose the latter course. At one blow the

gorgeous settlement was shivered to atoms. It had cost many thousands

of pounds to build, and now the money was gone for ever. As the Brethren

scattered in all directions, the Count saw at last the damage he had

done {Feb., 1750.}. He had led them on in reckless expense, and now he

must rush to their rescue. He addressed them all in a solemn circular

letter. He visited the various congregations, and urged them to true

repentance. He suppressed the disgraceful "Twelfth Appendix," and cut

out the offensive passages in his own discourses. He issued treatise

after treatise defending the Brethren against the coarse libels of their

enemies. And, best of all, and noblest of all, he not only took upon his

own shoulders the burden of their financial troubles, but confessed like

a man that he himself had steered them on to the rocks. He summoned his

Brethren to a Synod. He rose to address the assembly. His eyes were red,

his cheeks stained with tears.

"Ah! my beloved Brethren," he said, "I am guilty! I am the cause of all

these troubles!"