"Our Moravian Brethren," he said, "are an ancient Episcopal Church. Of

all Protestants, they come the nearest to the Established Church in this

kingdom in their doctrine and constitution. And though the enemy has

persecuted them from several quarters, the soundness of their faith and

the purity of their morals have defended them from any imputation of

Popery and immorality."

The one dangerous opponent was Lord Chancellor Hardwicke. He objected

to the clause about the certificate. If a man wished to prove himself a

Moravian, let him do so by bringing witnesses. What use was a Bishop's

certificate? It would not be accepted by any judge in the country.

On the other hand, Lord Granville, in a genial speech, spoke highly of

the Brethren. As some members were still afraid that the whole country

might become Moravians, and refuse to defend our land against her foes,

he dismissed their fears by an anecdote about a Quaker. At one time,

he said, in the days of his youth, the late famous admiral, Sir Charles

Wager, had been mate on a ship commanded by a Quaker; and on one

occasion the ship was attacked by a French privateer. What, then, did

the Quaker captain do? Instead of fighting the privateer himself, he

gave over the command to Wager, captured the privateer, and made his

fortune. But the Brethren, he held, were even broader minded than the

Quakers.

"I may compare them," he said, "to a casting-net over all Christendom,

to enclose all denominations of Christians. If you like episcopacy, they

have it; if you choose the Presbytery of Luther or Calvin, they have

that also; and if you are pleased with Quakerism, they have something of

that."

With this speech Zinzendorf was delighted. As the little difficulty

about the certificate had not yet been cleared away, he suggested that

the person bringing the certificate should bring witnesses as well; and

with this trifling amendment the Bill at last--on May 12th, the Moravian

Memorial Day--was carried without a division.

In one sense this Act was a triumph for the Brethren, and yet it

scarcely affected their fortunes in England. Its interest is national

rather than Moravian. It was a step in the history of religious

toleration, and the great principle it embodied was that a religious

body is entitled to freedom on the ground of its usefulness to the

State. The principle is one of the deepest importance. It is the

fundamental principle to-day of religious liberty in England. But the

Brethren themselves reaped very little benefit. With the exception

of their freedom from the oath and from military service, they still

occupied the same position as before the Act was passed. We come here to

one of those contradictions which are the glory of all legal systems.

On the one hand, by Act of Parliament, they were declared an Episcopal

Church, and could hardly, therefore, be regarded as Dissenters; on

the other, they were treated as Dissenters still, and still had their

churches licensed as "places of worship for the use of Protestant

Dissenters."[126]

CHAPTER XIII. -- THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS, 1749-1755.

As soon as the Act of Parliament was passed, and the settlement at

Herrnhaag had been broken up, the Count resolved that the headquarters

of the Brethren's Church should henceforward be in London; and to this

intent he now leased a block of buildings at Chelsea, known as Lindsey

House. The great house, in altered form, is standing still. It is at the

corner of Cheyne Walk and Beaufort Street, and is close to the Thames

Embankment. It had once belonged to Sir Thomas More, and also to the

ducal family of Ancaster. The designs of Zinzendorf were ambitious. He

leased the adjoining Beaufort grounds and gardens, spent £12,000 on the

property, had the house remodelled in grandiose style, erected, close

by, the "Clock" chapel and a minister's house, laid out a cemetery,

known to this day as "Sharon," and thus made preliminary arrangements

for the establishment in Chelsea of a Moravian settlement in full

working order. In those days Chelsea was a charming London suburb. From

the house to the river side lay a terrace, used as a grand parade; from

the bank to the water there ran a short flight of steps; and from there

the pleasure-boats, with banners flying, took trippers up and down the

shining river. For five years this Paradise was the headquarters of the

Brethren's Church. There, in grand style, lived the Count himself, with

the members of his Pilgrim Band; there the Brethren met in conference;

there the archives of the Church were preserved; and there letters and

reports were received from all parts of the rapidly extending mission

field.

And now the Count led a new campaign in England. As debates in

Parliament were not then published in full, it was always open for an

enemy to say that the Brethren had obtained their privileges by means

of some underhand trick; and in order to give this charge the lie, the

Count now published a folio volume, entitled, "Acta Fratrum Unitatis in

Anglia." In this volume he took the bull by the horns. He issued it by

the advice of Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man. It was a thorough and

comprehensive treatise, and contained all about the Moravians that an

honest and inquiring Briton would need to know. The first part consisted

of the principal vouchers that had been examined by the Parliamentary

Committee. The next was an article, "The Whole System of the Twenty-one

Doctrinal Articles of the Confession of Augsburg"; and here the Brethren

set forth their doctrinal beliefs in detail. The next article was "The

Brethren's Method of Preaching the Gospel, according to the Synod of

Bern, 1532"; and here they explained why they preached so much about

the Person and sufferings of Christ. The next article was a series of

extracts from the minutes of German Synods; and here the Brethren showed

what they meant by such phrases as "Sinnership" and "Blood and Wounds

Theology." But the cream of the volume was Zinzendorf's treatise, "The

Rationale of the Brethren's Liturgies." He explained why the Brethren

spoke so freely on certain moral matters, and contended that while

they had sometimes used language which prudish people might condemn as

indecent, they had done so from the loftiest motives, and had always

maintained among themselves a high standard of purity. At the close

of the volume was the Brethren's "Church Litany," revised by Sherlock,

Bishop of London, a glossary of their religious terms, and a pathetic

request that if the reader was not satisfied yet he should ask for

further information. The volume was a challenge to the public. It was an

honest manifesto of the Brethren's principles, a declaration that they

had nothing to conceal, and a challenge to their enemies to do their

worst.

The next task of Zinzendorf was to comfort the Brethren's friends. At

this period, while Zinzendorf was resident in London, the whole cause

of the Brethren in England was growing at an amazing pace; and

in Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Bedfordshire, Cheshire, Wiltshire,

Gloucestershire, Dublin, and the North of Ireland, the members of

the numerous societies and preaching places were clamouring for full

admission to the Moravian Church. They assumed a very natural attitude.

On the one hand, they wanted to become Moravians; on the other, they

objected to the system of discipline enforced so strictly in the

settlements, and contended that though it might suit in Germany, it

was not fit for independent Britons. But Zinzendorf gave a clear and

crushing answer. For the benefit of all good Britons who wished to join

the Moravian Church without accepting the Moravian discipline, he issued

what he called a "Consolatory Letter";[127] and the consolation that he

gave them was that he could not consider their arguments for a

moment. He informed them that the Brethren's rules were so strict that

candidates could only be received with caution; that the Brethren had

no desire to disturb those whose outward mode of religion was already

fixed; that they lived in a mystical communion with Christ which others

might not understand; and, finally, that they refused point-blank to

rob the other Churches of their members, and preferred to act "as a

seasonable assistant in an irreligious age, and as a most faithful

servant to the other Protestant Churches." Thus were the society members

blackballed; and thus did Zinzendorf prove in England that, with all his

faults, he was never a schismatic or a poacher on others' preserves.

Meanwhile, the battle of the books had begun. The first blow was struck

by John Wesley. For the last seven years--as his Journal shows--he had

seen but little of the Brethren, and was, therefore, not in a position

to pass a fair judgment on their conduct; but, on the other hand, he

had seen no reason to alter his old opinion, and still regarded them as

wicked Antinomians. The Act of Parliament aroused his anger. He obtained

a copy of Zinzendorf's Acta Fratrum, and published a pamphlet[128] summarizing its contents, with characteristic comments of his own

{1750.}. He signed himself "A Lover of the Light." His pamphlet was a

fierce attack upon the Brethren. The very evidence that had convinced

the Parliamentary Committee was a proof to Wesley that the Brethren

were heretics and deceivers. He accused them of having deceived the

Government and of having obtained their privileges by false pretences.

He asserted that they had brought forward documents which gave

an erroneous view of their principles and conduct. He hinted that

Zinzendorf, in one document, claimed for himself the power, which

belonged by right to the King and Parliament only, to transport his

Brethren beyond the seas, and that he had deceived the Committee

by using the milder word "transfer." He accused the Brethren of

hypocritical pretence, threw doubts upon their assumed reluctance to

steal sheep from other churches, and hinted that while they rejected the

poor they welcomed the rich with open arms. At the close of his pamphlet

he declared his conviction that the chief effect of the Brethren's

religion was to fill the mind with absurd ideas about the Side-Wound

of Christ, and rivers and seas of blood; and, therefore, he earnestly

besought all Methodists who had joined the Church of the Brethren to

quit their diabolical delusions, to flee from the borders of Sodom,

and to leave these Brethren, loved the darkness and rejected the Holy

Scriptures.

The next attack was of a milder nature. At Melbourne, in Derbyshire,

the Brethren had a small society; and George Baddeley, the local curate,

being naturally shocked that so many of his parishioners had ceased to

attend the Parish Church, appealed to them in a pamphlet entitled, "A

Kind and Friendly Letter to the People called Moravians at Melbourne, in

Derbyshire." And kind and friendly the pamphlet certainly was. For the

Brethren, as he knew them by personal contact, George Baddeley professed

the highest respect; and all that he had to say against them was that

they had helped to empty the Parish Church, and had ignorantly taught

the people doctrines contrary to Holy Scripture. They made a sing-song,

he complained, of the doctrine of the cleansing blood of Christ; they

had driven the doctrine of imputation too far, and had spoken of Christ

as a personal sinner; they had taught that Christians were as holy as

God, and co-equal with Christ, that believers were not to pray, that

there were no degrees in faith, and that all who had not full assurance

of faith were children of the devil. The pamphlet is instructive. It was

not an accurate account of the Brethren's teaching; but it shows what

impression their teaching made on the mind of an evangelical country

curate.

Another writer, whose name is unknown, denounced the Brethren in his

pamphlet "Some Observations." He had read Zinzendorf's Acta Fratrum, was

convinced that the Brethren were Papists, and feared that now the Act

was passed they would spread their Popish doctrines in the colonies. For

this judgment the chief evidence he summoned was a passage in the volume

expounding the Brethren's doctrine of the Sacrament; and in his

opinion their doctrine was so close to Transubstantiation that ordinary

Protestants could not tell the difference between the two.

At Spondon, near Derby, lived Gregory Oldknow; and Gregory published a

pamphlet entitled, "Serious Objections to the Pernicious Doctrines of

the Moravians and Methodists." {1751.} As he did not explain his point

very clearly, it is hard to see what objection he had to the Brethren;

but as he called them cannibals and German pickpockets, he cannot have

had much respect for their personal character. At their love-feasts, he

said, their chief object was to squeeze money from the poor. At some of

their services they played the bass viol, and at others they did not,

which plainly showed that they were unsteady in their minds. And,

therefore, they were a danger to Church and State.

At Dublin, John Roche, a Churchman, published his treatise {1751.}, the

"Moravian Heresy." His book was published by private subscription, and

among the subscribers were the Archbishop of Armagh, the Bishops of

Meath, Raphoe, Waterford, Clogher, Kilmore, Kildare, Derry, and Down

and Connor, and several deans, archdeacons and other Irish clergymen. He

denounced the Brethren as Antinomians. It is worth while noting what he

meant by this term. "The moral acts of a believer," said the Brethren,

"are not acts of duty that are necessary to give him a share in the

merits of Christ, but acts of love which he is excited to pay the Lamb

for the salvation already secured to him, if he will but unfeignedly

believe it to be so. Thus every good act of a Moravian is not from a

sense of duty, but from a sense of gratitude." Thus Roche denounced as

Antinomian the very doctrine now commonly regarded as evangelical.

He said, further, that the Moravians suffered from hideous diseases

inflicted on them by the devil; but the chief interest of his book is

the proof it offers of the strength of the Brethren at that time. He

wrote when both Cennick and Wesley had been in Dublin; but Cennick to

him seemed the really dangerous man. At first he intended to expose both

Moravians and Methodists. "But," he added, "the Moravians being the

more dangerous, subtle and powerful sect, and I fear will be the more

obstinate, I shall treat of them first."

For the next attack the Brethren were themselves to blame. As the

Brethren had sunk some thousands of pounds at Herrnhaag, they should now

have endeavoured to husband their resources; and yet, at a Synod held in

London, 1749, they resolved to erect choir-houses in England. At Lindsey

House they sunk £12,000; at Fulneck, in Yorkshire they sunk thousands

more; at Bedford they sunk thousands more; and meanwhile they were

spending thousands more in the purchase and lease of building land,

and in the support of many preachers in the rapidly increasing country

congregations. And here they made an amazing business blunder. Instead

of cutting their coat according to their cloth, they relied on a

fictitious capital supposed to exist on the Continent. At one time John

Wesley paid a visit to Fulneck, saw the buildings in course of erection,

asked how the cost would be met, and received, he says, the astounding

answer that the money "would come from beyond the sea."

At this point, to make matters worse, Mrs. Stonehouse, a wealthy

Moravian, died; and one clause in her will was that, when her husband

followed her to the grave, her property should then be devoted to the

support of the Church Diaconies. Again the English Brethren made a

business blunder. Instead of waiting till Mr. Stonehouse died, and the

money was actually theirs, they relied upon it as prospective capital,

and indulged in speculations beyond their means; and, to cut a long

story short, the sad fact has to be recorded that, by the close of 1752,

the Moravian Church in England was about £30,000 in debt. As soon as

Zinzendorf heard the news, he rushed heroically to the rescue, gave

security for £10,000, dismissed the managers of the Diaconies, and

formed a new board of administration.

But the financial disease was too deep-seated to be so easily cured. The

managers of the English Diaconies had been extremely foolish. They had

invested £67,000 with one Gomez Serra, a Portuguese Jew. Gomez Serra

suddenly stopped payment, the £67,000 was lost, and thus the Brethren's

liabilities were now nearly £100,000 {1752.}. Again Zinzendorf, in

generous fashion, came to the rescue of his Brethren. He acted in

England exactly as he had acted at Herrnhaag. He discovered before long,

to his dismay, that many of the English Brethren had invested money

in the Diaconies, and that now they ran the serious danger of being

imprisoned for debt. He called a meeting of the creditors, pledged

himself for the whole sum, and suggested a plan whereby the debt

could be paid off in four years. We must not, of course, suppose that

Zinzendorf himself proposed to pay the whole £100,000 out of his own

estates. For the present he made himself responsible, but he confidently

relied on the Brethren to repay their debt to him as soon as possible.

At all events, the creditors accepted his offer; and all that the

Brethren needed now was time to weather the storm.

At this point George Whitefield interfered, and nearly sent the Moravian

ship to the bottom {1753.}. He appealed to the example of Moses and

Paul. As Moses, he said, had rebuked the Israelites when they made the

golden calf, and as Paul had resisted Peter and Barnabas when carried

away with the dissimulation of the Jews, so he, as a champion of the

Church of Christ, could hold his peace no longer. He attacked the

Count in a fiery pamphlet, entitled, "An Expostulatory Letter to Count

Zinzendorf." The pamphlet ran to a second edition, and was circulated in

Germany. He began by condemning Moravian customs as unscriptural. "Pray,

my lord," he said, "what instances have we of the first Christians

walking round the graves of their deceased friends on Easter-Day,

attended with haut-boys, trumpets, French horns, violins and other

kinds of musical instruments? Or where have we the least mention made

of pictures of particular persons being brought into the first Christian

assemblies, and of candles being placed behind them, in order to give

a transparent view of the figures? Where was it ever known that the

picture of the apostle Paul, representing him handing a gentleman

and lady up to the side of Jesus Christ, was ever introduced into the

primitive love-feasts? Again, my lord, I beg leave to inquire whether

we hear anything of eldresses or deaconesses of the apostolical churches

seating themselves before a table covered with artificial flowers,

against that a little altar surrounded with wax tapers, on which stood

a cross, composed either of mock or real diamonds, or other glittering

stones?" As the Brethren, therefore, practised customs which had no

sanction in the New Testament, George Whitefield concluded that they

were encouraging Popery. At this period the Brethren were certainly

fond of symbols; and on one occasion, as the London Diary records, Peter

Boehler entered Fetter Lane Chapel, arrayed in a white robe to symbolize

purity, and a red sash tied at the waist to symbolize the cleansing

blood of Christ. But the next point in Whitefield's "letter" was cruel.

At the very time when Zinzendorf was giving his money to save his

English Brethren from a debtor's prison, Whitefield accused him and his

Brethren alike of robbery and fraud. He declared that Zinzendorf was

£40,000 in debt; that there was little hope that he would ever pay; that

his allies were not much better; and that the Brethren had deceived the

Parliamentary Committee by representing themselves as men of means. At

the very time, said Whitefield, when the Moravian leaders were boasting

in Parliament of their great possessions, they were really binding down

their English members for thousands more than they could pay. They drew

bills on tradesmen without their consent; they compelled simple folk to

sell their estates, seized the money, and then sent the penniless owners

abroad; and they claimed authority to say to the rich, "Either give

us all thou hast, or get thee gone." For these falsehoods Whitefield

claimed, no doubt quite honestly, to have good evidence; and to prove

his point he quoted the case of a certain Thomas Rhodes. Poor Rhodes,

said Whitefield, was one of the Brethren's victims. They had first

persuaded him to sell a valuable estate; they had then seized part of

his money to pay their debts; and at last they drained his stores so dry

that he had to sell them his watch, bureau, horse and saddle, to fly to

France, and to leave his old mother to die of starvation in England.

For a while this ridiculous story was believed; and the Brethren's

creditors, in a state of panic, pressed hard for their money. The little

Church of the Brethren was now on the brink of ruin. At one moment

Zinzendorf himself expected to be thrown into prison, and was only

saved in the nick of time by the arrival of money from Germany. But the

English Brethren now showed their manhood. The very men whom Zinzendorf

was supposed to have robbed now rose in his defence. Instead of thanking

Whitefield for defending them in their supposed distresses, they formed

a committee, drew up a statement,[129] dedicated that statement to the

Archbishop of York, and declared that there was not a word of truth

in Whitefield's charges. They had not, they declared, been robbed by

Zinzendorf and the Moravian leaders; on the contrary, they had received

substantial benefits from them. Thomas Rhodes himself proved Whitefield

in the wrong. He wrote a letter to his own lawyer; James Hutton

published extracts from the letter, and in that letter Rhodes declared

that he had sold his estate of his own free will, that the Brethren had

paid a good price, and that he and his mother were living in perfect

comfort. Thus was Whitefield's fiction exploded, and the Brethren's

credit restored.

But the next attack was still more deadly. At the time when Whitefield

wrote his pamphlet there had already appeared a book entitled "A Candid

Narrative of the Rise and Progress of the Herrnhuters"; and Whitefield

himself had read the book and had allowed it to poison his mind {1753.}.

The author was Henry Rimius.[130] He had been Aulic Councillor to the

King of Prussia, had met Moravians in Germany, and now lived in Oxenden

Street, London. For two years this scribbler devoted his energies to

an attempt to paint the Brethren in such revolting colours that

the Government would expel them from the country. His method was

unscrupulous and immoral. He admitted, as he had to admit, that such

English Brethren as he knew were excellent people; and yet he gave the

impression in his books that the whole Moravian Church was a sink of

iniquity. He directed his main attack against Zinzendorf and the old

fanatics at Herrnhaag; and thus he made the English Brethren suffer

for the past sins of their German cousins. He accused the Brethren of

deceiving the House of Commons. He would now show them up in their true

colours. "No Government," he said, "that harbours them can be secure

whilst their leaders go on at the rate they have done hitherto." He

accused them of holding immoral principles dangerous to Church and

State. They held, he said, that Christ could make the most villainous

act to be virtue, and the most exalted virtue to be vice. They spoke

with contempt of the Bible, and condemned Bible reading as dangerous.

They denounced the orthodox theology as fit only for dogs and swine, and

described the priests of other Churches as professors of the devil.

They called themselves the only true Church, the Church of the Lamb, the

Church of Blood and Wounds; and claimed that, on the Judgment Day, they

would shine forth in all their splendour and be the angels coming in

glory. At heart, however, they were not Protestants at all, but Atheists

in disguise; and the real object of all their plotting was to set up

a godless empire of their own. They claimed to be independent of

government. They employed a secret gang of informers. They had their own

magistrates, their own courts of justice, and their own secret laws. At

their head was Zinzendorf, their Lord Advocate, with the authority of a

Pope. As no one could join the Moravian Church without first promising

to abandon the use of his reason, and submit in all things to his

leaders, those leaders could guide them like little children into the

most horrid enterprizes. At Herrnhaag the Brethren had established an

independent state, and had robbed the Counts of Büdingen of vast sums

of money; and, if they were allowed to do so, they would commit similar

crimes in England. They had a fund called the Lamb's Chest, to which all

their members were bound to contribute. The power of their Elders was

enormous. At any moment they could marry a couple against their will,

divorce them when they thought fit, tear children from their parents,

and dispatch them to distant corners of the earth. But the great object

of the Moravians, said Rimius, was to secure liberty for themselves to

practise their sensual abominations. He supported his case by quoting

freely, not only from Zinzendorf's sermons, but also from certain German

hymn-books which had been published at Herrnhaag during the "Sifting

Time"; and as he gave chapter and verse for his statements, he succeeded

in covering the Brethren with ridicule. He accused them of blasphemy and

indecency. They spoke of Christ as a Tyburn bird, as digging for roots,

as vexed by an aunt, and as sitting in the beer-house among the scum of

society. They sang hymns to the devil. They revelled in the most hideous

and filthy expressions, chanted the praises of lust and sensuality,

and practised a number of sensual abominations too loathsome to be

described. At one service held in Fetter Lane, Count Zinzendorf, said

Rimius, had declared that the seventh commandment was not binding on

Christians, and had recommended immorality to his congregation.[131] It is

impossible to give the modern reader a true idea of the shocking picture

of the Brethren painted by Rimius. For malice, spite, indecency

and unfairness, his works would be hard to match even in the vilest

literature of the eighteenth century. As his books came out in rapid

succession, the picture he drew grew more and more disgusting. He wrote

in a racy, sometimes jocular style; and, knowing the dirty taste of the

age, he pleased his public by retailing anecdotes as coarse as any in

the "Decameron." His chief object was probably to line his own pockets.

His first book, "The Candid Narrative," sold well. But his attack was

mean and unjust. It is true that he quoted quite correctly from the

silly literature of the Sifting-Time; but he carefully omitted to state

the fact that that literature had now been condemned by the Brethren

themselves, and that only a few absurd stanzas had appeared in English.

At the same time, in the approved fashion of all scandal-mongers,

he constantly gave a false impression by tearing passages from their

original connection. As an attack on the English Brethren, his work was

dishonest. He had no solid evidence to bring against them. From first to

last he wrote almost entirely of the fanatics at Herrnhaag, and fathered

their sins upon the innocent Brethren in England.

Meanwhile, however, a genuine eye-witness was telling a terrible tale.

He named his book {1753.}, "The True and Authentic Account of Andrew

Frey." For four years, he said, he lived among the Brethren in

Germany, travelled about helping to form societies, and settled down at

Marienborn, when the fanaticism there was in full bloom. He was known

among the Brethren as Andrew the Great. As he wore a long beard, he was

considered rather eccentric. At Marienborn he saw strange sights and

heard strange doctrine. At their feasts the Brethren ate like gluttons

and drank till they were tipsy. "All godliness, all devotion, all

piety," said Rubusch, the general Elder of all the Single Brethren on

the Continent, "are no more than so many snares of the devil. Things

must be brought to this pass in the community, that nothing shall be

spoken of but wounds, wounds, wounds. All other discourse, however

Scriptural and pious, must be spued out and trampled under foot."

Another, Vieroth, a preacher in high repute among the Brethren, said, in

a sermon at Marienborn castle church: "Nothing gives the devil greater

joy than to decoy into good works, departing from evil, shalling and

willing, trying, watching and examining those souls who have experienced

anything of the Saviour's Grace in their hearts." Another, Calic, had

defended self-indulgence. "Anyone," he said, "having found lodging, bed

and board in the Lamb's wounds cannot but be merry and live according to

nature; so that when such a one plays any pranks that the godly ones cry

out against them as sins, the Saviour is so far from being displeased

therewith that he rejoices the more." In vain Frey endeavoured to

correct these cross-air birds; they denounced him as a rogue. He

appealed to Zinzendorf, and found to his dismay that the Count was as

depraved as the rest. "Do not suffer yourselves to be molested in your

merriment," said that trumpet of Satan; and others declared that the

Bible was dung, and only fit to be trampled under foot. At last Andrew,

disgusted beyond all measure, could restrain his soul no longer; and

telling the Brethren they were the wickedest sect that had appeared

since the days of the Apostles, and profoundly thankful that their

gilded poison had not killed his soul, he turned his back on them for

ever.[132]

The next smiter of the Brethren was Lavington, Bishop of Exeter. He

called his book "The Moravians Compared and Detected." He had already

denounced the Methodists in his "Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists

Compared" {1754.}; and now he described the Brethren as immoral

characters, fitted to enter a herd of swine. In a pompous introduction

he explained his purpose, and that purpose was the suppression of the

"Brethren's Church in England." "With respect to the settlement of

the Moravians in these kingdoms," he said, "it seems to have been

surreptitiously obtained, under the pretence of their being a peaceable

and innocent sort of people. And peaceable probably they will remain

while they are permitted, without control, to ruin families and riot in

their debaucheries." Of all the attacks upon the Brethren, this book

by Lavington was the most offensive and scurrilous; and the Brethren

themselves could hardly believe that it was written by a Bishop. It was

unfit for a decent person to read. The good Bishop knew nothing of his

subject. As he could not read the German language, he had to rely for

his information on the English editions of the works of Rimius and Frey;

and all he did was to collect in one volume the nastiest passages in

their indictments, compare the Brethren with certain queer sects of the

Middle Ages, and thus hold them up before the public as filthy dreamers

and debauchees of the vilest order.

And now, to give a finishing touch to the picture, John Wesley arose

once more {1755.}. He, too, had swallowed the poison of Rimius and Frey,

and a good deal of other poison as well. At Bedford a scandal-monger

informed him that the Brethren were the worst paymasters in the town;

and at Holbeck another avowed that the Brethren whom he had met in

Yorkshire were quite as bad as Rimius had stated. As Wesley printed

these statements in his journal they were soon read in every county in

England. But Wesley himself did not assert that these statements were

true. He wished, he said, to be quite fair to the Brethren; he wished

to give them a chance of clearing themselves; and, therefore, he now

published his pamphlet entitled "Queries to Count Zinzendorf." It

contained the whole case in a nutshell. For the sum of sixpence the

ordinary reader had now the case against the Brethren in a popular and

handy form.

Thus the Brethren, attacked from so many sides, were bound to bestir

themselves in self-defence. The burden of reply fell on Zinzendorf.

His life and conversation were described as scandalous; his hymns

were denounced as filthy abominations, and his discourses as pleas

for immorality; and the Brethren for whose sake he had sacrificed

his fortune were held up before the British public as political

conspirators, atheists, robbers of the poor, kidnappers of children,

ruiners of families, and lascivious lovers of pleasure. But the Count

was a busy man. James Hutton says that he worked on the average eighteen

hours a day. He was constantly preaching, writing, relieving the

distressed, paying other people's debts, and providing the necessaries

of life for a hundred ministers of the Gospel. He had dealt with similar

accusations in Germany, had published a volume containing a thousand

answers to a thousand questions, and was loth to go over the whole

ground again. For some time he clung to the hope that the verdict

of Parliament and the common sense of Englishmen would be sufficient

protection against abuse; and he gallantly defended the character of

Rimius, and spoke with generous enthusiasm of Whitefield. The best

friends of the Brethren, such as Lord Granville and the Bishops of

London and Worcester, advised them to treat Rimius with contemptuous

silence. But a reply became a necessity. As long as the Brethren

remained silent, their enemies asserted that this very silence was a

confession of guilt; and some mischievous scoundrel, in the name, but

without the consent, of the Brethren, inserted a notice in the General

Advertiser that they intended to reply to Rimius in detail. For these

reasons, therefore, Zinzendorf, James Hutton, Frederick Neisser, and

others who preferred to write anonymously, now issued a series of

defensive pamphlets.[133] The Count offered to lay before the public a

full statement of his financial affairs; and James Hutton, in a notice

in several newspapers, promised to answer any reasonable questions. It

is needless to give the Brethren's defence in detail. The plain facts of

the case were beyond all dispute. In two ways the accusations of Rimius

and Frey were out of court. First they accused the whole Church of the

Brethren of sins which had only been committed by a few fanatics at

Marienborn and Herrnhaag; and, secondly, that fanaticism had practically

ceased before the Act of Parliament was passed. The Count here stood

upon firm ground. He pointed out that the accusers of the Brethren had

nearly always taken care to go to the Wetterau for their material; and

he contended that it was a shame to blame innocent Englishmen for the

past sins, long ago abandoned, of a few foreign fanatics. He appealed

confidently to the public. "We are so well known to our neighbours," he

said, "that all our clearing ourselves of accusations appears to them

quite needless." In reply to the charge of using indecent language, he

contended that his purpose was good, and justified by the results; and

that, as soon as he found himself misunderstood, he had cut out all

doubtful phrases from his discourses.

James Hutton explained their use of childish language. At this period

the Brethren, in some of their hymns, used a number of endearing

epithets which would strike the modern reader as absurd. For example,

they spoke of the little Lamb, the little Jesus, the little Cross-air

Bird. But even here they were not so childish as their critics imagined.

The truth was, these phrases were Bohemian in origin. In the Bohemian

language diminutives abound. In Bohemia a servant girl is addressed as

"demercko"--i.e., little, little maid; and the literal translation of

"mug mily Bozicko"--a phrase often used in public worship--is "my dear,

little, little God."

But the Brethren had a better defence than writing pamphlets. Instead of

taking too much notice of their enemies, they began to set their English

house in order. For the first time they now published an authorized

collection of English Moravian hymns {1754.}; and in the preface they

clearly declared their purpose. The purpose was twofold: first,

the proclamation of the Gospel; second, the cultivation of personal

holiness. If we judge this book by modern standards, we shall certainly

find it faulty; but, on the other hand, it must be remembered that it

rendered a very noble service to the Christianity of the eighteenth

century. The chief burden of the hymns was Ecce Homo. If the Brethren

had never done anything else, they had at least placed the sufferings of

Christ in the forefront of their message. With rapturous enthusiasm the

Brethren depicted every detail of the Passion History; and thus they

reminded their hearers of events which ordinary Christians had almost

forgotten. At times the language they used was gruesome; and, lost in

mystic adoration, the Brethren, in imagination, trod the Via Dolorosa.

They nestled in the nail-prints; they kissed the spear; they gazed

with rapt and holy awe on the golden head, the raven locks, the pallid

cheeks, the foaming lips, the melting eyes, the green wreath of thorns,

the torn sinews, the great blue wounds, and the pierced palms, like

rings of gold, beset with rubies red. In one stanza they abhorred

themselves as worms; in the next they rejoiced as alabaster doves; and,

glorying in the constant presence of the Well-Beloved, they feared not

the King of Terrors, and calmly sang of death as "the last magnetic

kiss, to consummate their bliss." But, despite its crude and extravagant

language, this hymn-book was of historic importance. At that time

the number of hymn-books in England was small; the Anglicans had no

hymn-book at all, and never sang anything but Psalms; and thus the

Brethren were among the first to make the adoration of Christ in song

an essential part of public worship. It was here that the Brethren

excelled, and here that they helped to free English Christianity from

the chilling influence of Deism. The whole point was quaintly expressed

by Bishop John Gambold:--

The Doctrine of the Unitas

By Providence was meant,

In Christendom's degenerate days,

That cold lump to ferment,

From Scripture Pearls to wipe the dust,

Give blood-bought grace its compass just,

In praxis, truth from shew to part,

God's Power from Ethic Art.

But the last line must not be misunderstood. It did not mean that the

Brethren despised ethics. Of all the charges brought against them, the

charge that they were Antinomians was the most malicious and absurd.

At the very time when their enemies were accusing them of teaching that

good works were of no importance, they inserted in their Litany for

Sunday morning worship a number of petitions which were alone enough to

give that charge the lie. The petitions were as follows:--

O! that we might never see a necessitous person go unrelieved!

O! that we might see none suffer for want of clothing!

O! that we might be eyes to the blind and feet to the lame!

O! that we could refresh the heart of the Fatherless!

O! that we could mitigate the burden of the labouring man, and be

ourselves not ministered unto but minister!

Feed its with that princely repast of solacing others!

O! that the blessing of him who was ready to perish might come

upon us!

Yea! may our hearts rejoice to see it go well with our enemies.

Again, therefore, as in their hymns, the Brethren laid stress on the

humane element in Christianity.[134]

But their next retort to their enemies was the grandest of all. At a

Synod held in Lindsey House, they resolved that a Book of Statutes was

needed, and requested Zinzendorf to prepare one {1754.}. The Count was

in a quandary. He could see that a Book of Statutes was required, but he

could not decide what form it should take. If he framed the laws in

his own language, his critics would accuse him of departing from the

Scriptures; and if he used the language of Scripture, the same critics

would accuse him of hedging and of having some private interpretation of

the Bible. At length he decided to use the language of Scripture. He was

so afraid of causing offence that, Greek scholar though he was, he felt

bound to adhere to the Authorised Version. If Zinzendorf had used his

own translation his enemies would have accused him of tampering with

the Word of God. The book appeared. It was entitled, Statutes: or the

General Principles of Practical Christianity, extracted out of the New

Testament. It was designed for the use of all English Moravians, and was

sanctioned and adopted by the Synod on May 12th, 1755. It was thorough

and systematic. For fathers and mothers, for sons and daughters, for

masters and servants, for governors and governed, for business men, for

bishops and pastors, the appropriate commandments were selected from

the New Testament. In a printed notice on the title page, the Brethren

explained their own interpretation of those commandments. "Lest it

should be thought," they said, "that they seek, perhaps, some subterfuge

in the pretended indeterminate nature of Scripture-style, they know very

well that it becomes them to understand every precept and obligation in

the same manner as the generality of serious Christians understand the

same (and this is a thing, God be praised, pretty well fixed), or, if

at all differently, then always stricter." The purpose of the book was

clear. It was a handy guide to daily conduct. It was meant to be learned

by heart, and was issued in such size and form that it could be carried

about in the pocket. It was "a faithful monitor to souls who, having

been first washed through the blood of Jesus, do now live in the Spirit,

to walk also in the Spirit." To the Brethren this little Christian guide

was a treasure. As long as they ordered their daily conduct by these

"convenient rules for the house of their pilgrimage," they could smile

at the sneers of Rimius and his supporters. The Moravian influence in

England was now at high tide. At the very time when their enemies were

denouncing them as immoral Antinomians, they established their strongest

congregations at Fulneck, Gomersal, Wyke, Mirfield, Dukinfield, Bristol,

and Gracehill {1755.}; and in all their congregations the "Statutes"

were enforced with an iron hand.

Thus did the Brethren repel the attacks of their assailants. From this

chapter one certain conclusion follows. The very fact that the Brethren

were so fiercely attacked is a proof how strong they were. As the reader

wanders over England, he may see, if he knows where to look, memorials

of their bygone labours. In Northampton is an auction room that was once

a Moravian chapel. In Bullock Smithy is a row of cottages named "Chapel

Houses," where now the Brethren are forgotten. In a private house at

Bolton, Lancashire, will be found a cupboard that was once a Moravian

Pulpit. In Wiltshire stands the "two o'clock chapel," where Cennick used

to preach. We may learn much from such memorials as these. We may learn

that the Brethren played a far greater part in the Evangelical Revival

than most historians have recognised; that they worked more like the

unseen leaven than like the spreading mustard tree; that they hankered

not after earthly pomp, and despised what the world calls success; and

that, reviled, insulted, and misrepresented, they pursued their quiet

way, content with the reward which man cannot give.

CHAPTER XIV. -- THE AMERICAN EXPERIMENTS, 1734-1762.

In order to have a clear view of the events recorded in this chapter, we

must bear in mind that the Brethren worked according to a definite Plan;

they generally formed their "Plan" by means of the Lot; and this "Plan,"

speaking broadly, was of a threefold nature. The Brethren had three

ideals: First, they were not sectarians. Instead of trying to extend the

Moravian Church at the expense of other denominations, they consistently

endeavoured, wherever they went, to preach a broad and comprehensive

Gospel, to avoid theological disputes, to make peace between the sects,

and to unite Christians of all shades of belief in common devotion to a

common Lord. Secondly, by establishing settlements, they endeavoured to

unite the secular and the sacred. At these settlements they deliberately

adopted, for purely religious purposes, a form of voluntary religious

socialism. They were not, however, socialists or communists by

conviction; they had no desire to alter the laws of property; and they

established their communistic organization, not from any political

motives, but because they felt that, for the time at least, it would be

the most economical, would foster Christian fellowship, would sanctify

daily labour, and would enable them, poor men though they were, to find

ways and means for the spread of the Gospel. And thirdly, the Brethren

would preach that Gospel to all men, civilized or savage, who had not

heard it before. With these three ideals before us, we trace their

footsteps in North America.

The first impulse sprang from the kindness of Zinzendorf's heart. At

Görlitz, a town a few miles from Herrnhut, there dwelt a small body of

Schwenkfelders; and the King of Saxony issued an edict banishing

them from his dominions {1733.}. As soon as Zinzendorf heard of their

troubles he longed to find them a home. He opened negotiations with the

trustees of the Colony of Georgia. The negotiations were successful.

The Governor of Georgia, General Oglethorpe, was glad to welcome good

workmen; a parcel of land was offered, and the poor Schwenkfelders,

accompanied by Böhnisch, a Moravian Brother, set off for their American

home. For some reason, however, they changed their minds on the way,

and, instead of settling down in Georgia, went on to Pennsylvania. The

land in Georgia was now crying out for settlers. At Herrnhut trouble

was brewing. If the spirit of persecution continued raging, the Brethren

themselves might soon be in need of a home. The Count took time by the

forelock. As soon as the storm burst over Herrnhut, the Brethren might

have to fly; and, therefore, he now sent Spangenberg to arrange terms

with General Oglethorpe. Again the negotiations were successful; the

General offered the Brethren a hundred acres; and a few weeks later, led

by Spangenberg, the first batch of Moravian colonists arrived in Georgia

{1734.}. The next batch was the famous company on the Simmonds. The new

settlement was on the banks of the Savannah River. For some years,

with Spangenberg as general manager, the Brethren tried to found a

flourishing farm colony. The learned Spangenberg was a practical man. In

spite of the fact that he had been a University lecturer, he now put

his hand to the plough like a labourer to the manner born. He was the

business agent; he was the cashier; he was the spiritual leader; he was

the architect; and he was the medical adviser. As the climate of Georgia

was utterly different from the climate of Saxony, he perceived at once

that the Brethren would have to be careful in matters of diet, and

rather astonished the Sisters by giving them detailed instructions about

the cooking of rice and beef. The difference between him and Zinzendorf

was enormous. At St. Croix, a couple of years before, a band of Moravian

Missionaries had died of fever; and while Zinzendorf immortalized their

exploits in a hymn, the practical Spangenberg calmly considered how such

heroic tragedies could be prevented in the future. In political matters

he was equally far-seeing. As the Brethren were now in an English

colony, it was, he said, their plain duty to be naturalized as

Englishmen as soon as possible; and, therefore, in a letter to

Zinzendorf, he implored him to become a British subject himself, to

secure for the Brethren the rights of English citizens, and, above all,

if possible to obtain letters patent relieving the Brethren from the

obligation to render military service. But on Zinzendorf all this wisdom

was thrown away. Already the ruin of the colony was in sight. At the

very time when the Brethren's labours should have been crowned with

success, Captain Jenkins, at the bar of the House of Commons, was

telling how his ear had been cut off by Spaniards {1738.}. The great

war between England and Spain broke out. The chief aim of Spain was to

destroy our colonial supremacy in America. Spanish soldiers threatened

Georgia. The Brethren were summoned to take to arms and help to defend

the colony against the foe. But the Brethren objected to taking arms

at all. The farm colony was abandoned; and the scene shifts to

Pennsylvania.

Meanwhile, the good Spangenberg had been busy in Pennsylvania, looking

after the interests of the Schwenkfelders. He attended their meetings,

wore their clothing--a green coat, without buttons or pockets--studied

the works of Schwenkfeld, and organized them into what he called an

"Economy." In other words, he taught them to help each other by joining

in common work on a communist basis. At the same time, he tried to teach

them to be a little more broad-minded, and not to quarrel so much with

other Christians. But the more he talked of brotherly love the more

bigoted the poor Schwenkfelders became. At this time the colony had

become a nest of fanatics. For some years, in response to the generous

offers of Thomas Penn, all sorts of persecuted refugees had fled

to Pennsylvania; and now the land was infested by a motley group of

Episcopalians, Quakers, Baptists, Separatists, Sabbatarians, Unitarians,

Lutherans, Calvinists, Memnonites, Presbyterians, Independents, Inspired

Prophets, Hermits, Newborn Ones, Dunckers, and Protestant Monks and

Nuns. Thus the land was filled with "religions" and almost empty of

religion. Instead of attending to the spiritual needs of the people,

each Church or sect was trying to prove itself in the right and all the

others in the wrong; and the only principle on which they agreed was the

principle of disagreeing with each other. The result was heathendom and

babel. Most of the people attended neither church nor chapel; most of

the parents were unbaptized, and brought up their children in ignorance;

and, according to a popular proverb of the day, to say that a man

professed the Pennsylvania religion was a polite way of calling him an

infidel.

As soon, therefore, as Zinzendorf heard from Spangenberg of these

disgraceful quarrels a glorious vision rose before his mind; and the

conviction flashed upon him that Pennsylvania was the spot where the

Brethren's broad evangel was needed most. There, in the midst of the

quarrelling sects he would plant the lily of peace; there, where the

cause of unity seemed hopeless, he would realize the prayer of Christ,

"that they all may be one." For two reason, America seemed to him the

true home of the ideal Church of the Brethren. First, there was no State

Church; and, therefore, whatever line he took, he could not be accused

of causing a schism. Secondly, there was religious liberty; and,

therefore, he could work out his ideas without fear of being checked by

edicts. For these reasons he first sent out another batch of colonists,

led by Bishop Nitschmann; and then, in due time, he arrived on the scene

himself. The first move had the promise of good. At the spot the Lehigh

and the Monocany meet the Brethren had purchased a plot of ground

{1741}; they all lived together in one log-house; they proposed to build

a settlement like Herrnhut; and there, one immortal Christmas Eve, Count

Zinzendorf conducted a consecration service. Above them shone the keen,

cold stars, God's messengers of peace; around them ranged the babel of

strife; and the Count, remembering how the Prince of Peace had been born

in a humble wayside lodging, named the future settlement Bethlehem. The

name had a twofold meaning. It was a token of the Brethren's mission

of peace; and it reminded them that the future settlement was to be a

"House of Bread" for their evangelists.

The Count was now in his element. For two years he did his best to teach

the quarrelling sects in Pennsylvania to help and esteem each other;

and the bond of union he set before them was a common experience of the

redeeming grace of Christ. He had come to America, not as a Moravian

Bishop, but as a Lutheran clergyman; and he was so afraid of being

suspected of sectarian motives that, before he set out from London,

he had purposely laid his episcopal office aside. For some months,

therefore, he now acted as Lutheran clergyman to a Lutheran congregation

in Philadelphia; and meanwhile he issued a circular, inviting German

Christians of all denominations to meet in Conference. His purpose, to

use his own phrase, was to establish a grand "Congregation of God in the

Spirit." At first the outlook was hopeful. From all sects deputies came,

and a series of "Pennsylvanian Synods" was held. Again, however, the

Count was misled by his own ignorance of history. At this time he held

the erroneous view that the Union of Sendomir in Poland (1570) was

a beautiful union of churches brought about by the efforts of the

Brethren; he imagined also that the Bohemian Confession (1575) had been

drawn up by the Brethren; and, therefore, he very naturally concluded

that what the Brethren had accomplished in Poland and Bohemia they could

accomplish again in Pennsylvania. But the stern facts of the case were

all against him. At the very time when he was endeavouring to establish

a "Congregation of God in the Spirit" in Pennsylvania, he heard that his

own Brethren in Germany were departing from his ideals; and, therefore,

he had to return to Germany, and hand on his American work to

Spangenberg {1743.}.

For that task the broad-minded Spangenberg was admirably fitted, and now

he held a number of titles supposed to define his mission. First, he

was officially appointed "General Elder" in America; second, he was

consecrated a Bishop, and was thus head of the American Moravian Church;

and third, he was "Vicarius generalis episcoporum"; i.e., General Vicar

of the Bishops. For the next four years the Pennsylvania Synods, with

the broad-minded Spangenberg as President, continued to meet with more

or less regularity. In 1744 they met twice; in 1745 three times; in 1746

four times; in 1747 three times; and in 1748 twice. But gradually the

Synods altered in character. At first representatives attended from a

dozen different bodies; then only Lutherans, Calvinists and Moravians;

then only Moravians; and at length, when John de Watteville arrived upon

the scene, he found that for all intents and purposes the Pennsylvanian

Synod had become a Synod of the Moravian Church. He recognized the facts

of the case, abolished the "Congregation of the Spirit," and laid the

constitutional foundations of the Brethren's Church in North America

(1748). Thus Zinzendorf's scheme of union collapsed, and the first

American experiment was a failure.

Meanwhile, Bishop Spangenberg had been busy with the second. If this man

was inferior to Zinzendorf in genius he was far above him as a practical

politician. He now accomplished his "Masterpiece."[135] The task before

him was twofold. He had to find both men and money; and from the first

he bravely resolved to do without one penny of assistance from Germany.

He called his plan the "Economy," and an economical plan it certainly

was. His great principle was subdivision of labour. As the work in

America was mostly among poor people--some immigrants, others Red

Indians--he perceived that special measures must be taken to cover

expenses; and, therefore, he divided his army into two main bodies. The

one was the commissariat department; the other was the fighting line.

The one was engaged in manual labour; the other was preaching the

gospel. The one was stationed chiefly at Bethlehem; the other was

scattered in different parts of North America. About ten miles

north-west of Bethlehem the Brethren purchased a tract of land from

George Whitefield, gave it the name of Nazareth, and proposed to build

another settlement there. At first the two settlements were practically

worked as one. For eighteen years they bore between them almost the

whole financial burden of the Brethren's work in North America. There,

at the joint settlement of Bethlehem-Nazareth, the "Economy" was

established. There lay the general "camp"; there stood the home of "the

Pilgrim Band"; there was built the "School of the Prophets"; there, to

use Spangenberg's vivid phrase, was the "Saviour's Armoury." The great

purpose which the Brethren set before them was to preach the Gospel in

America without making the American people pay. Instead of having their

preachers supported by contributions from their congregations, they

would support these preachers themselves. For this task the only capital

that Spangenberg possessed was two uncultivated tracts of land, three

roomy dwelling-houses, two or three outhouses and barns, his own fertile

genius, and a body of Brethren and Sisters willing to work. His method

of work was remarkable. In order, first, to cut down the expenses of

living, he asked his workers then and there to surrender the comforts of

family life. At Bethlehem stood two large houses. In one lived all the

Single Brethren; in the other the families, all the husbands in one

part, all the wives in another, all the children (under guardians) in

the third. At Nazareth there was only one house; and there lived all the

Single Sisters. As the Sisters set off through the forest to their home

in Nazareth, they carried their spinning-wheels on their shoulders;

and two hours after their arrival in the house they were driving their

wheels with zeal. At Bethlehem the energy of all was amazing. Bishop

Spangenberg was commonly known as Brother Joseph; and Brother Joseph, in

a letter to Zinzendorf, explained the purpose of his scheme. "As Paul,"

he said, "worked with his own hands, so as to be able to preach the

Gospel without pay, so we, according to our ability, will do the same;

and thus even a child of four will be able, by plucking wool, to serve

the Gospel."

For patient devotion and heroic self-sacrifice these humble toilers at

the Bethlehem-Nazareth "Economy" are unsurpassed in the history of the

Brethren's Church. They built their own houses; they made their own

clothes and boots; they tilled the soil and provided their own meat,

vegetables, bread, milk, and eggs; they sawed their own wood, spun their

own yarn, and wove their own cloth; and then, selling at the regular

market price what was not required for their personal use, they spent

the profits in the support of preachers, teachers, and missionaries in

various parts of North America. For a motto they took the words: "In

commune oramus, in commune laboramus, in commune patimur, in commune

gaudeamus"; i.e., together we pray, together we labour, together we

suffer, together we rejoice. The motive, however, was not social, but

religious. "It is nothing," said Spangenberg himself, "but love to the

Lamb and His Church." For this cause the ploughman tilled the soil, the

women sewed, the joiner sawed, the blacksmith plied his hammer; for

this cause the fond mothers, with tears in their eyes, handed over their

children to the care of guardians, so that they themselves might be free

to toil for the Master. Thus every trade was sanctified; and thus did

all, both old and young, spend all their powers for the Gospel's sake.

If there is any distinction between secular and sacred, that distinction

was unknown at Bethlehem and Nazareth. At Bethlehem the Brethren

accounted it an honour to chop wood for the Master's sake; and the

fireman, said Spangenberg, felt his post as important "as if he were

guarding the Ark of the Covenant." For the members of each trade or

calling a special series of services was arranged; and thus every toiler

was constantly reminded that he was working not for himself but for God.

The number of lovefeasts was enormous. At the opening of the harvest

season the farm labourers held an early morning lovefeast; the discourse

was partly on spiritual topics and partly on rules of diet; then the

sickles were handed out; and the whole band, with hymns of praise on

their lips, set off for the harvest field. For days at a time the Single

Brethren would be in the forest felling trees; but before they set off

they had a lovefeast, and when they returned they had another. As soon

as the joiners had the oil-mill ready they celebrated the event in a

lovefeast. The spinners had a lovefeast once a week. The joiners, the

weavers, the cartwrights, the smiths, the hewers of wood, the milkers

of cows, the knitters, the sewers, the cooks, the washerwomen--all had

their special lovefeasts. At one time the joyful discovery was made

that a Brother had served a year in the kitchen, and was ready to serve

another; and thereupon the whole settlement held a general lovefeast

in his honour. For the mothers a special meeting was held, at which an

expert gave instructions on the art of bringing up children; and at this

meeting, while the lecturer discoursed or occasional hymns were sung,

the women were busy with their hands. One made shoes, another tailored,

another ground powder for the chemist's shop, another copied invoices

and letters, another sliced turnips, another knitted socks. For each

calling special hymns were composed and sung. If these hymns had been

published in a volume we should have had a Working-man's Hymnbook. Thus

every man and woman at Bethlehem-Nazareth had enlisted in the missionary

army. Never, surely, in the history of Protestant Christianity were

the secular and the sacred more happily wedded. "In our Economy," said

Spangenberg, "the spiritual and physical are as closely united as a

man's body and soul; and each has a marked effect upon the other." If

a man lost his touch with Christ it was noticed that he was careless in

his work; but as long as his heart was right with God his eye was clear

and his hand steady and firm. At the head of the whole concern stood

Spangenberg, a business man to the finger tips. If genius is a capacity

for taking pains, then Spangenberg was a genius of the finest order. He

drew up regulations dealing with every detail of the business, and at

his office he kept a strict account of every penny expended, every yard

of linen woven, every pound of butter made, and every egg consumed.

As long as Spangenberg was on the spot the business arrangements were

perfect; he was assisted by a Board of Directors, known as the Aufseher

Collegium; and so great was the enterprise shown that before the close

of his first period of administration the Brethren had several farms and

thirty-two industries in full working order. It was this which impressed

our House of Commons, and enabled them, in the Act of 1749, to recognize

the Brethren "as a sober and industrious people." For that Act the

credit must be given, not to the airy dreams of Zinzendorf, but to

the solid labours of Spangenberg. At the time when the Bill was under

discussion the chief stress was laid, in both Houses, on the results of

Spangenberg's labours; and so deeply was Earl Granville impressed that

he offered the Brethren a hundred thousand acres in North Carolina. At

length, accompanied by five other Brethren, Spangenberg himself set

off to view the land, selected a site, organized another "Economy,"

established two congregations, named Bethabara and Bethany, and thus

became the founder of the Southern Province of the Brethren's Church in

America.

But his greatest success was in the Northern Province. For many years

the Brethren at Bethlehem-Nazareth maintained nearly all the preachers

in North America. In Pennsylvania they had preachers at Germantown,

Philadelphia, Lancaster, York, Donegal, Heidelberg, Lebanon, Lititz,

Oley, Allemaengel, Emmaus, Salisbury, Falkner's Swamp, the Trappe,

Mahanatawny, Neshaminy, and Dansbury. In Maryland they had a station at

Graceham. In Jersey they had stations at Maurice River, Racoon, Penn's

Neck, Oldman's Creek, Pawlin's Hill, Walpack, and Brunswick; in Rhode

Island, at Newport; in Maine, at Broadbay; in New York, at Canajoharie;

and other stations at Staten Island and Long Island. They opened

fifteen schools for poor children; they paid the travelling expenses of

missionaries to Surinam and the West Indies; they maintained a number of

missionaries to the Red Indians. Thus did Spangenberg, by means of his

"Economy," establish the Moravian Church in North America. We must not

misunderstand his motives. He never made his system compulsory, and he

never intended it to last. If any Brother objected to working for the

"Economy," and preferred to trade on his own account, he was free to do

so; and as soon as the "Economy" had served its purpose it was abolished

by Spangenberg himself (1762). It is easy to object that his system

interfered with family life. It is easy to say that this Moravian Bishop

had no right to split families into sections, to herd the husbands in

one abode and the wives in another, to tear children from their mothers'

arms and place them under guardians. But Brother Joseph had his answer

to this objection. At Bethlehem, he declared, the members of the

"Economy" were as happy as birds in the sunshine; and, rejoicing in

their voluntary sacrifice, they vowed that they would rather die than

resign this chance of service. The whole arrangement was voluntary.

Not a man or woman was pressed into the service. If a man joins the

volunteers he is generally prepared, for the time being, to forego the

comforts of family life, and these gallant toilers of the "Economy" were

volunteers for God.

Another feature of Spangenberg's work was his loyalty as a British

citizen. As long as he was resident in a British Colony he considered it

his duty, German though he was, to stand by the British flag; and while

that famous war was raging which ended in the brilliant capture of

Quebec, and the conquest of Canada, Brother Joseph and the Moravian

Brethren upheld the British cause from first to last. The Red Indians

were nearly all on the side of France. As the Brethren, therefore,

preached to the Indians, they were at first suspected of treachery, and

were even accused of inciting the Indians to rebellion; but Spangenberg

proved their loyalty to the hilt. At Gnadenhütten, on the Mahony River,

the Brethren had established a Mission Station {1755.}; and there, one

night, as they sat at supper, they heard the farm dogs set up a warning

barking.

"It occurs to me," said Brother Senseman, "that the Congregation House

is still open; I will go and lock it; there may be stragglers from the

militia in the neighbourhood." And out he went.

At that moment, while Senseman was about his duty, the sound of

footsteps was heard; the Brethren opened the door; and there stood a

band of painted Indians, with rifles in their hands. The war-whoop was

raised. The first volley was fired. John Nitschmann fell dead on the

spot. As the firing continued, the Brethren and Sisters endeavoured

to take refuge in the attic; but before they could all clamber up

the stairs five others had fallen dead. The Indians set fire to the

building. The fate of the missionaries was sealed. As the flames arose,

one Brother managed to escape by a back door, another let himself down

from the window, another was captured, scalped alive, and left to die;

and the rest, huddled in the blazing garret, were roasted to death.

"Dear Saviour, it is well," said Mrs. Senseman, as the cruel flames

lapped round her; "it is well! It is what I expected."

No longer could the Brethren's loyalty be doubted; and Spangenberg

acted, on behalf of the British, with the skill of a military expert. As

he went about in his regimentals his critics remarked that he looked

far more like an army officer than an apostle of the Lord. For him the

problem to solve was, how to keep the Indians at bay; and he actually

advised the British authorities to construct a line of forts, pointed

out the strategic importance of Gnadenhütten, and offered the land for

military purposes. At Bethlehem and the other Brethren's settlements

he had sentinels appointed and barricades constructed; at all specially

vulnerable points he had blockhouses erected; and the result was that

the Brethren's settlements were among the safest places in the country.

At Bethlehem the Brethren sheltered six hundred fugitives. The plans of

Spangenberg were successful. Not a single settlement was attacked.

In spite of the war and the general unsettlement, the business of the

"Economy" went on as usual; the Brethren labouring in the harvest field

were protected by loyal Indians; and amid the panic the Brethren founded

another settlement at Lititz. Thus did Spangenberg, in a difficult

situation, act with consummate wisdom; and thus did he set an example of

loyalty for Moravian missionaries to follow in days to come.

And yet, despite his wisdom and zeal, the Moravian Church at this period

did not spread rapidly in America. For this, Zinzendorf was largely to

blame. If the Count had been a good business man, and if he had realized

the importance of the American work, he would have left the management

of that work entirely in Spangenberg's hands. But his treatment of

Spangenberg was peculiar. At first he almost ignored his existence, and

broke his heart by not answering his letters (1744-48); and then, when

he found himself in trouble, and affairs at Herrnhaag were coming to a

crisis, he sent John de Watteville in hot haste to Bethlehem, summoned

Spangenberg home, and kept him busy writing ponderous apologies. As

soon as Spangenberg had completed his task, and done his best to clear

Zinzendorf's character, he set off for Bethlehem again, and established

the Brethren's cause in North Carolina; but before he had been two years

at work the Count was in financial difficulties, and summoned him home

once more (1753). His last stay in America was his longest (1754-1762).

He was still there when Zinzendorf died. As soon as Zinzendorf was laid

in his grave the Brethren in Germany formed a Board of Management; but,

before long, they discovered that they could not do without Spangenberg.

He left America for ever. And thus Brother Joseph was lost to America

because he was indispensable in Germany.

The second cause of failure was the system of management. For the most

part the men who took Spangenberg's place in America--such as John de

Watteville and John Nitschmann--were obsessed with Zinzendorf's ideas

about settlements; and, instead of turning the numerous preaching places

into independent congregations they centralized the work round the four

chief settlements of Bethlehem, Nazareth, Lititz and Salem. We have seen

how the settlement system worked in England. It had precisely the same

result in America.

The third cause of failure was financial complications. As long as

Spangenberg was on the spot he kept the American finances independent;

but when he left for the last time the American Province was placed

under the direct control of the General Directing Board in Germany, the

American and German finances were mixed, the accounts became hopelessly

confused, and American affairs were mismanaged. It is obvious, on

the face of it, that a Directing Board with its seat in Germany was

incapable of managing efficiently a difficult work four thousand miles

away; and yet that was the system pursued for nearly a hundred years

(1762-1857).

We come now to the brightest part of our American story--the work among

the Red Indians. At this period almost the whole of North America

was the home of numerous Indian tribes. Along the upper valley of the

Tennessee River, and among the grand hills of Georgia, Alabama, and

Western Alabama were the Cherokees. In Mississippi were the Natchez;

near the town of Augusta the Uchies; between the Tennessee and the Ohio,

the Mobilians; in Central Carolina, the Catawbas; to the west of

the Mississippi the Dahcotas; in New England, New Jersey, Maryland,

Virginia, and the region stretching to the great lakes, the Delawares;

and finally, in New York, Pennsylvania, and the region enclosed by Lakes

Huron, Erie, and Ontario, the Iroquois. Thus, the Brethren in America

were surrounded by Indian tribes; and to those Indian tribes they

undertook to preach the Gospel.

The first step was taken by Christian Henry Rauch. As soon as he arrived

in Pennsylvania he offered himself for the Indian Mission, went to the

Indian town of Shekomeko {1740.}, and began to preach the Gospel in a

manner which became famous in Moravian history. First, at a Conference

in Bethlehem, the story was told by Tschoop, one of his earliest

converts; and then it was officially quoted by Spangenberg, as a typical

example of the Brethren's method of preaching. "Brethren," said Tschoop,

"I have been a heathen, and grown old among the heathen; therefore I

know how the heathen think. Once a preacher came and began to explain

that there was a God. We answered, 'Dost thou think us so ignorant as

not to know that? Go to the place whence thou camest!' Then, again,

another preacher came, and began to teach us, and to say, 'You must not

steal, nor lie, nor get drunk, and so forth.' We answered, 'Thou fool,

dost thou think that we do not know that? Learn first thyself, and then

teach the people to whom thou belongest to leave off these things. For

who steal, or lie, or who are more drunken than thine own people?' And

then we dismissed him."

But Rauch came with a very different message.

He told us of a Mighty One, the Lord of earth and sky, Who left His

glory in the Heavens, for men to bleed and die; Who loved poor Indian

sinners still, and longed to gain their love, And be their Saviour here

and in His Father's house above.

And when his tale was ended--"My friends," he gently said, "I am weary

with my journey, and would fain lay down my head; So beside our spears

and arrows he laid him down to rest, And slept as sweetly as the babe

upon its mother's breast.

Then we looked upon each other, and I whispered, "This is new; Yes, we

have heard glad tidings, and that sleeper knows them true; He knows he

has a Friend above, or would he slumber here, With men of war around

him, and the war-whoop in his ear.?"

So we told him on the morrow that he need not journey on, But stay and

tell us further of that loving, dying One; And thus we heard of Jesus

first, and felt the wondrous power, Which makes His people willing, in

His own accepted hour.

"Thus," added Tschoop, "through the grace of God an awakening took place

among us. I say, therefore, Brethren, preach Christ our Saviour, and His

sufferings and death, if you will have your words to gain entrance among

the heathen."

As soon, therefore, as Rauch had struck this note, the Brethren boldly

undertook the task of preaching to all the Red Indians in North America.

The Count himself set off to spy the land, and undertook three dangerous

missionary journeys. First, accompanied by his daughter Benigna, and

an escort of fourteen, he visited the Long Valley beyond the Blue

Mountains, met a delegation of the League of the Iroquois, and received

from them, in solemn style, a fathom made of one hundred and sixty-eight

strings of wampum {1742.}. The fathom was a sign of goodwill. If a

missionary could only show the fathom he was sure of a kindly welcome.

In his second journey Zinzendorf went to Shekomeko, organised the first

Indian Mission Church, and baptized three converts as Abraham, Isaac

and Jacob. In his third journey he visited the Wyoming Valley, and

interviewed the chiefs of the Shawanese and Mohicans. He was here in

deadly peril. As he sat one afternoon in his tent two hissing adders

darted across his body; and a few days later some suspicious Indians

plotted to take his life. But a government agent arrived on the scene,

and Zinzendorf's scalp was saved.

And now the Brethren began the campaign in earnest. At Bethlehem

Spangenberg had a Mission Conference and a Mission College. The great

hero of the work was David Zeisberger. He was, like most of these early

missionaries, a German. He was born at Zauchtenthal, in Moravia; had

come with his parents to Herrnhut; had followed them later to Georgia;

and was now a student at Spangenberg's College at Bethlehem. For

sixty-three years he lived among the Indians, and his life was one

continual series of thrilling adventures and escapes. He became almost

an Indian. He was admitted a member of the Six Nations, received an

Indian name, and became a member of an Indian family. He was an Iroquois

to the Iroquois, a Delaware to the Delawares. He understood the

hidden science of belts and strings of wampum; he could unriddle their

mysterious messages and make speeches in their bombastic style; and he

spoke in their speech and thought in their thoughts, and lived their

life in their wigwams. He loved their majestic prairies, stretching

beyond the Blue Mountains. He loved their mighty rivers and their deep

clear lakes. Above all, he loved the red-brown Indians themselves.

Full well he knew what trials awaited him. If the reader has formed

his conception of the Indians from Fenimore Cooper's novels, he will

probably think that Zeisberger spent his life among a race of gallant

heroes. The reality was rather different. For the most part the Indians

of North America were the reverse of heroic. They were bloodthirsty,

drunken, lewd and treacherous. They spent their time in hunting

buffaloes, smoking pipes, lolling in the sun, and scalping each other's

heads. They wasted their nights in tipsy revels and dances by the light

of the moon. They cowered in terror of evil spirits and vicious and

angry gods. But Zeisberger never feared and never despaired. As long as

he had such a grand Gospel to preach, he felt sure that he could make

these savages sober, pure, wise, kind and brave, and that God would

ever shield him with His wing. He has been called "The Apostle to the

Indians." As the missionaries of the early Christian Church came to our

rude fathers in England, and made us a Christian people, so Zeisberger

desired to be an Augustine to the Indians, and found a Christian Indian

kingdom stretching from Lake Michigan to the Ohio.

He began his work with the League of the Iroquois, commonly called

the Six Nations {1745.}. At Onondaga, their headquarters, where he and

Bishop Cammerhof had arranged to meet the Great Council, the meeting

had to be postponed till the members had recovered from a state of

intoxication. But Cammerhof addressed the chiefs, brought out the

soothing pipe of tobacco, watched it pass from mouth to mouth, and

received permission for two missionaries to come and settle down.

From there, still accompanied by Cammerhof, Zeisberger went on to the

Senecas. He was welcomed to a Pandemonium of revelry. The whole village

was drunk. As he lay in his tent he could hear fiendish yells rend the

air; he went out with a kettle, to get some water for Cammerhof, and the

savages knocked the kettle out of his hand; and later, when the shades

of evening fell, he had to defend himself with his fists against a bevy

of lascivious women, whose long hair streamed in the night wind, and

whose lips swelled with passion. For Cammerhof the journey was too much;

in the bloom of youth he died (1751).

But Zeisberger had a frame of steel. Passing on from tribe to tribe, he

strode through darkling woods, through tangled thickets, through miry

sloughs, through swarms of mosquitoes; and anon, plying his swift canoe,

he sped through primeval forests, by flowers of the tulip tree,

through roaring rapids, round beetling bluffs, past groups of mottled

rattlesnakes that lay basking in the sun. At the present time, in many

Moravian manses, may be seen an engraving of a picture by Schüssele,

of Philadelphia, representing Zeisberger preaching to the Indians. The

incident occurred at Goschgoschünk, on the Alleghany River (1767). In

the picture the service is represented as being held in the open air; in

reality it was held in the Council House. In the centre of the house was

the watch-fire. Around it squatted the Indians--the men on one side, the

women on the other; and among those men were murderers who had played

their part, twelve years before, in the massacre on the Mahony River.

As soon as Zeisberger rose to speak, every eye was fixed upon him; and

while he delivered his Gospel message, he knew that at any moment a

tomahawk might cleave his skull, and his scalp hang bleeding at the

murderer's girdle. "Never yet," he wrote, "did I see so clearly

painted on the faces of the Indians both the darkness of hell and the

world-subduing power of the Gospel."

As the years rolled on, this dauntless hero won completely the

confidence of these suspicious savages. He was known as "Friend of the

Indians," and was allowed to move among them at his ease. In vain the

sorcerers plotted against him. "Beware," they said to the simple people,

"of the man in the black coat." At times, in order to bring down the

vengeance of the spirits on Zeisberger's head, they sat up through the

night and gorged themselves with swine's flesh; and, when this mode of

enchantment failed, they baked themselves in hot ovens till they became

unconscious. Zeisberger still went boldly on. Wherever the Indians were

most debauched, there was he in the midst of them. Both the Six Nations

and the Delawares passed laws that he was to be uninterrupted in

his work. Before him the haughtiest chieftains bowed in awe. At

Lavunakhannek, on the Alleghany River, he met the great Delaware orator,

Glikkikan, who had baffled Jesuits and statesmen, and had prepared a

complicated speech with which he meant to crush Zeisberger for ever;

but when the two men came face to face, the orator fell an easy victim,

forgot his carefully prepared oration, murmured meekly: "I have nothing

to say; I believe your words," submitted to Zeisberger like a child,

and became one of his warmest friends and supporters. In like manner

Zeisberger won over White Eyes, the famous Delaware captain; and, hand

in hand, Zeisberger and White Eyes worked for the same great cause. "I

want my people," said White Eyes, "now that peace is established in the

country, to turn their attention to peace in their hearts. I want them

to embrace that religion which is taught by the white teachers. We shall

never be happy until we are Christians."

It seemed as though that time were drawing nigh {1765-81.}. Zeisberger

was a splendid organizer. As soon as the "Indian War" was over, he

founded a number of Christian settlements, and taught the Indians the

arts of industry and peace. For the Iroquois he founded the settlements

of Friedenshütten (Tents of Peace), on the Susquehanna, Goschgoschünk,

on the Alleghany, and Lavunakhannek and Friedenstadt (Town of Peace),

on the Beaver River; and for the Delawares he founded the settlements of

Schönbrunn (Beautiful Spring), Gnadenhütten (Tents of Grace), Lichtenau

(Meadow of Light), on the Tuscawaras, and Salem, on the Muskinghum. His

settlements were like diamonds flashing in the darkness. Instead of the

wildness of the desert were nut trees, plums, cherries, mulberries and

all manner of fruits; instead of scattered wigwams, orderly streets of

huts; instead of filth, neatness and cleanliness; instead of drunken

brawls and orgies, the voice of children at the village school, and the

voice of morning and evening prayer.

No longer were the Indians in these settlements wild hunters. They were

now steady business men. They conducted farms, cultivated gardens, grew

corn and sugar, made butter, and learned to manage their local affairs

as well as an English Urban District Council. At the head of each

settlement was a Governing Board, consisting of the Missionaries and the

native "helpers"; and all affairs of special importance were referred

to a general meeting of the inhabitants. The system filled the minds of

visitors with wonder. "The Indians in Zeisberger's settlements," said

Colonel Morgan, "are an example to civilized whites."

No longer, further, were the Indians ignorant savages. Zeisberger was a

great linguist. He mastered the Delaware and Iroquois languages. For the

benefit of the converts in his setlements, and with the assistance of

Indian sachems, he prepared and had printed a number of useful books:

first (1776), "A Delaware Indian and English Spelling-book," with

an appendix containing the Lord's Prayer, the Ten Commandments, some

Scripture passages and a Litany; next (1803), in the Delaware language,

"A Collection of Hymns for the use of the Christian Indians," translated

from the English and German Moravian Hymn-books, and including the

Easter, Baptismal and Burial Litanies; next, a volume of "Sermons

to Children," translated from the German; next, a translation of

Spangenberg's "Bodily Care of Children"; next, "A Harmony of the Four

Gospels," translated from the Harmony prepared by Samuel Leiberkühn;

and last, a grammatical treatise on the Delaware conjugations. Of

his services to philology, I need not speak in detail. He prepared a

lexicon, in seven volumes, of the German and Onondaga languages, an

Onondaga Grammar, a Delaware Grammar, a German-Delaware Dictionary, and

other works of a similar nature. As these contributions to science

were never published, they may not seem of much importance; but his

manuscripts have been carefully preserved, some in the library of the

Philosophical Society at Philadelphia, others at Harvard University.

Thus did Zeisberger, explorer and scholar, devote his powers to the

physical, moral and spiritual improvement of the Indians. For some

years his success was brilliant; and when, on Easter Sunday morning, his

converts gathered for the early service, they presented a scene unlike

any other in the world. As the sun rose red beyond the great Blue

Mountains, as the morning mists broke gently away, as the gemmed trees

whispered with the breath of spring, the Indians repeated in their

lonely cemetery the same solemn Easter Litany that the Brethren repeated

at Herrnhut, Zeisberger read the Confession of Faith, a trained choir

led the responses, the Easter hymn swelled out, and the final "Amen"

rang over the plateau and aroused the hosts of the woodland.

Away in the forest, how fair to the sight

Was the clear, placid lake as it sparkled in light,

And kissed with low murmur the green shady shore,

Whence a tribe had departed, whose traces it bore.

Where the lone Indian hastened, and wondering hushed

His awe as he trod o'er the mouldering dust!

How bright were the waters--how cheerful the song,

Which the wood-bird was chirping all the day long,

And how welcome the refuge those solitudes gave

To the pilgrims who toiled over mountain and wave;

Here they rested--here gushed forth, salvation to bring,

The fount of the Cross, by the "Beautiful Spring."

And yet the name of this wonderful man is almost unknown in England. We

are just coming to the reason. At the very time when his influence was

at its height the American War of Independence broke out, and Zeisberger

and his converts, as an Indian orator put it, were between two exceeding

mighty and wrathful gods, who stood opposed with extended jaws. Each

party wished the Indians to take up arms on its side. But Zeisberger

urged them to be neutral. When the English sent the hatchet of war to

the Delawares, the Delawares politely sent it back. When a letter came

to Zeisberger, requesting him to arouse his converts, to put himself

at their head, and to bring the scalps of all the rebels he could

slaughter, he threw the sheet into the flames. For this policy he was

suspected by both sides. At one time he was accused before an English

court of being in league with the Americans. At another time he was

accused by the Americans of being in league with the English. At length

the thunderbolt fell. As the Christian Indians of Gnadenhütten were

engaged one day in tilling the soil, the American troops of Colonel

Williamson appeared upon the scene, asked for quarters, were

comfortably, lodged, and then, disarming the innocent victims, accused

them of having sided with the British. For that accusation the only

ground was that the Indians had shown hospitality to all who demanded

it; but this defence was not accepted, and Colonel Williamson decided

to put the whole congregation to death {March 28th, 1782.}. The log huts

were turned into shambles; the settlers were allowed a few minutes for

prayer; then, in couples, they were summoned to their doom; and in cold

blood the soldiers, with tomahawks, mallets, clubs, spears and scalping

knives, began the work of butchery. At the end of the performance ninety

corpses lay dabbled with blood on the ground. Among the victims were

six National Assistants, a lady who could speak English and German,

twenty-four other women, eleven boys and eleven girls. The Blood-Bath of

Gnadenhütten was a hideous crime. It shattered the Indian Mission. The

grand plans of Zeisberger collapsed in ruin. As the war raged on, and

white men encroached more and more on Indian soil, he found himself and

his converts driven by brute force from one settlement after another.

Already, before the war broke out, this brutal process had commenced;

and altogether it continued for twenty years. In 1769 he had to abandon

Goschgoschünk; in 1770, Lavunakhannek; in 1772, Friedenshütten; in

1773, Friedenstadt; in 1780, Lichtenau; in 1781, Gnadenhütten, Salem

and Schönbrunn; in 1782, Sandusky; in 1786, New Gnadenhütten; in 1787,

Pilgerruh; in 1791, New Salem. As the old man drew near his end, he

endeavoured to stem the torrent of destruction by founding two new

settlements--Fairfield, in Canada, and Goshen, on the Tuscawaras; but

even these had to be abandoned a few years after his death. Amid

the Indians he had lived; amid the Indians, at Goshen, he lay on his

death-bed {1808.}. As the news of his approaching dissolution spread,

the chapel bell was tolled: his converts, knowing the signal, entered

the room; and then, uniting their voices in song, they sang him home in

triumphant hymns which he himself had translated from the hymns of the

Ancient Brethren's Church.

CHAPTER XV. -- THE LAST DAYS OF ZINZENDORF, 1755-1760.

As Zinzendorf drew near to his end, he saw that his efforts in the cause

of Christ had not ended as he had hoped. His design was the union of

Christendom, his achievement the revival of the Church of the Brethren.

He had given the "Hidden Seed" a home at Herrnhut. He had discovered the

ancient laws of the Bohemian Brethren. He had maintained, first, for the

sake of the Missions, and, secondly, for the sake of his Brethren, the

Brethren's Episcopal Succession. He had founded the Pilgrim Band at

Marienborn, had begun the Diaspora work in the Baltic Provinces, had

gained for the Brethren legal recognition in Germany, England and North

America, and had given the stimulus to the work of foreign missions. At

the same time, he had continually impressed his own religious ideas upon

his followers; and thus the Renewed Church of the Brethren was a Church

of a twofold nature. The past and the present were dove-tailed. From

the Bohemian Brethren came the strict discipline, the ministerial

succession, and the martyr-spirit; from Zinzendorf the idea of

"Church within the Church," the stress laid on the great doctrine of

reconciliation through the blood of Christ, and the fiery missionary

enthusiasm. Without Zinzendorf the Bohemian Brethren would probably have

never returned to life; and without the fibre of the Bohemian Brethren,

German Pietism would have died a natural death.

We must, however, keep clear of one misconception. Whatever else the

Renewed Church of the Brethren was, it did not spring from a union of

races. It was not a fusion of German and Czech elements. As the first

settlers at Herrnhut came from Moravia, it is natural to regard them as

Moravian Czechs; but the truth is that they were Germans in blood, and

spoke the German language. It was, therefore, the German element of the

old Brethren's Church that formed the backbone of the Renewed Church. It

was Germans, not Czechs, who began the foreign missionary work; Germans

who came to England, and Germans who renewed the Brethren's Church

in America. In due time pure Czechs from Bohemia came and settled at

Rixdorf and Niesky; but, speaking broadly, the Renewed Church of the

Brethren was revived by German men with German ideas.

As the Church, therefore, was now established in the three provinces of

Germany, Great Britain and North America, one problem only still awaited

solution. The problem was the welding of the provinces. That welding was

brought about in a simple way. If the reader is of a thoughtful turn of

mind, he must have wondered more than once where the Brethren found

the money to carry on their enterprises. They had relied chiefly on

two sources of income: first, Zinzendorf's estates; second, a number

of business concerns known as Diaconies. As long as these Diaconies

prospered, the Brethren were able to keep their heads above water; but

the truth is, they had been mismanaged. The Church was now on the verge

of bankruptcy; and, therefore, the Brethren held at Taubenheim the

so-called "Economical Conference." {1755.}

In the time of need came the deliverer, Frederick Köber. His five

measures proved the salvation of the Church. First, he separated

the property of Zinzendorf from the general property of the Church.

Secondly, he put this general property under the care of a "College

of Directors." Thirdly, he made an arrangement whereby this "College"

should pay off all debts in fixed yearly sums. Fourthly, he proposed

that all members of the Church should pay a fixed annual sum to general

Church funds. And fifthly, on the sound principle that those who pay

are entitled to a vote, he suggested that in future all members of the

Church should have the right to send representatives to the General

Directing Board or Conference. In this way he drew the outlines of the

Moravian Church Constitution.

Meanwhile, Count Zinzendorf's end was drawing near. The evening of his

life he spent at Herrnhut, for where more fitly could he die?

"It will be better," he said, "when I go home; the Conferences will last

for ever."

He employed his last days in revising the Text-book, which was to be

daily food for the Pilgrim Church {1760.}; and when he wrote down the

final words, "And the King turned His face about, and blessed all the

congregation of Israel," his last message to the Brethren was delivered.

As his illness--a violent catarrhal fever--gained the mastery over him,

he was cheered by the sight of the numerous friends who gathered round

him. His band of workers watched by his couch in turn. On the last night

about a hundred Brethren and Sisters assembled in the death chamber.

John de Watteville sat by the bedside.

"Now, my dear friend," said the dying Count, "I am going to the Saviour.

I am ready. I bow to His will. He is satisfied with me. If He does not

want me here any more, I am ready to go to Him. There is nothing to

hinder me now."

He looked around upon his friends. "I cannot say," he said, "how much I

love you all. Who would have believed that the prayer of Christ, 'That

they may be one,' could have been so strikingly fulfilled among us. I

only asked for first-fruits among the heathen, and thousands have been

given me...Are we not as in Heaven? Do we not live together like the

angels? The Lord and His servants understand one another...I am ready."

As the night wore on towards morning, the scene, says one who was

present, was noble, charming, liturgical. At ten o'clock, his breathing

grew feebler {May 9th, 1760.}; and John de Watteville pronounced the Old

Testament Benediction, "The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make

His face shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up His

countenance upon thee and give thee peace." As de Watteville spoke the

last words of the blessing, the Count lay back on his pillow and closed

his eyes; and a few seconds later he breathed no more.

At Herrnhut it is still the custom to announce the death of any member

of the congregation by a chorale played on trombones; and when the

trombones sounded that morning all knew that Zinzendorf's earthly

career had closed. The air was thick with mist. "It seemed," said John

Nitschmann, then minister at Herrnhut, "as though nature herself were

weeping." As the Count's body lay next day in the coffin, arrayed in the

robe he had worn so often when conducting the Holy Communion, the whole

congregation, choir by choir, came to gaze for the last time upon his

face. For a week after this the coffin remained closed; but on the

funeral day it was opened again, and hundreds from the neighbouring

towns and villages came crowding into the chamber. At the funeral all

the Sisters were dressed in white; and the number of mourners was over

four thousand. At this time there were present in Herrnhut Moravian

ministers from Holland, England, Ireland, North America and Greenland;

and these, along with the German ministers, took turns as pall-bearers.

The trombones sounded. John Nitschmann, as precentor, started the hymn;

the procession to the Hutberg began. As the coffin was lowered into the

grave some verses were sung, and then John Nitschmann spoke the words:

"With tears we sow this seed in the earth; but He, in his own good time,

will bring it to life, and will gather in His harvest with thanks and

praise! Let all who wish for this say, 'Amen.'"

"Amen," responded the vast, weeping throng. The inscription on the

grave-stone is as follows: "Here lie the remains of that immortal man of

God, Nicholas Lewis, Count and Lord of Zinzendorf and Pottendorf; who,

through the grace of God and his own unwearied service, became the

honoured Ordinary of the Brethren's Church, renewed in this eighteenth

century. He was born at Dresden on May 26th, 1700, and entered into the

joy of his Lord at Herrnhut on May 9th, 1760. He was appointed to bring

forth fruit, and that his fruit should remain."

Thus, in a halo of tearful glory, the Count-Bishop was laid to rest. For

many years the Brethren cherished his memory, not only with affection,

but with veneration; and even the sober Spangenberg described him as

"the great treasure of our times, a lovely diamond in the ring on the

hand of our Lord, a servant of the Lord without an equal, a pillar in

the house of the Lord, God's message to His people." But history hardly

justifies this generous eulogy; and Spangenberg afterwards admitted

himself that Zinzendorf had two sides to his character. "It may seem a

paradox," he wrote, "but it really does seem a fact that a man cannot

have great virtues without also having great faults." The case of

Zinzendorf is a case in point. At a Synod held a few years later (1764),

the Brethren commissioned Spangenberg to write a "Life of Zinzendorf."

As the Count, however, had been far from perfect, they had to face the

serious question whether Spangenberg should be allowed to expose his

faults to public gaze. They consulted the Lot: the Lot said "No"; and,

therefore, they solemnly warned Spangenberg that, in order to avoid

creating a false impression, he was "to leave out everything which

would not edify the public." The loyal Spangenberg obeyed. His "Life of

Zinzendorf" appeared in eight large volumes. He desired, of course, to

be honest; he was convinced, to use his own words, that "an historian is

responsible to God and men for the truth"; and yet, though he told

the truth, he did not tell the whole truth. The result was lamentable.

Instead of a life-like picture of Zinzendorf, the reader had only

a shaded portrait, in which both the beauties and the defects were

carefully toned down. The English abridged edition was still more

colourless.[136] For a hundred years the character of Zinzendorf lay

hidden beneath a pile of pious phrases, and only the recent researches

of scholars have enabled us to see him as he was. He was no mere

commonplace Pietist. He was no mere pious German nobleman, converted by

looking at a picture. His faults and his virtues stood out in glaring

relief. His very appearance told the dual tale. As he strolled the

streets of Berlin or London, the wayfarers instinctively moved to let

him pass, and all men admired his noble bearing, his lofty brow, his

fiery dark blue eye, and his firm set lips; and yet, on the other hand,

they could not fail to notice that he was untidy in his dress, that

he strode on, gazing at the stars, and that often, in his

absent-mindedness, he stumbled and staggered in his gait. In his

portraits we can read the same double story. In some the prevailing

tone is dignity; in others there is the faint suggestion of a smirk. His

faults were those often found in men of genius. He was nearly always in

a hurry, and was never in time for dinner. He was unsystematic in his

habits, and incompetent in money matters. He was rather imperious in

disposition, and sometimes overbearing in his conduct. He was impatient

at any opposition, and disposed to treat with contempt the advice of

others. For example, when the financial crisis arose at Herrnhaag,

Spangenberg advised him to raise funds by weekly collections; but

Zinzendorf brushed the advice aside, and retorted, "It is my affair." He

was rather short-tempered, and would stamp his foot like an angry child

if a bench in the church was not placed exactly as he desired. He

was superstitious in his use of the Lot, and damaged the cause of the

Brethren immensely by teaching them to trust implicitly to its guidance.

He was reckless in his use of extravagant language; and he forgot that

public men should consider, not only what they mean themselves, but also

what impression their words are likely to make upon others. He was

not always strictly truthful; and in one of his pamphlets he actually

asserted that he himself was in no way responsible for the scandals

at Herrnhaag. For these reasons the Count made many enemies. He was

criticized severely, and sometimes justly, by men of such exalted

character as Bengel, the famous German commentator, and honest John

Wesley in England; he was reviled by vulgar scribblers like Rimius; and

thus, like his great contemporary, Whitefield, he

Stood pilloried on Infamy's high stage,

And bore the pelting scorn of half an age;

The very butt of slander and the blot

For every dart that malice ever shot.

But serious though his failings were, they were far outshone by his

virtues. Of all the religious leaders of the eighteenth century, he

was the most original in genius and the most varied in talent; and,

therefore, he was the most misunderstood, the most fiercely hated, the

most foully libelled, the most shamefully attacked, and the most fondly

adored. In his love for Christ he was like St. Bernard, in his mystic

devotion like Madame Guyon; and Herder, the German poet, described him

as "a conqueror in the spiritual world." It was those who knew him best

who admired him most. By the world at large he was despised, by orthodox

critics abused, by the Brethren honoured, by his intimate friends almost

worshipped. According to many orthodox Lutherans he was an atheist;

but the Brethren commonly called him "the Lord's disciple." He was

abstemious in diet, cared little for wine, and drank chiefly tea and

lemonade. He was broad and Catholic in his views, refused to speak of

the Pope as Antichrist, and referred to members of the Church of Rome as

"Brethren"; and, while he remained a Lutheran to the end, he had friends

in every branch of the Church of Christ. He had not a drop of malice in

his blood. He never learned the art of bearing a grudge, and when he was

reviled, he never reviled again. He was free with his money, and could

never refuse a beggar. He was a thoughtful and suggestive theological

writer, and holds a high place in the history of dogma; and no thinker

expounded more beautifully than he the grand doctrine that the innermost

nature of God is revealed in all its glory to man in the Person of the

suffering Man Christ Jesus. He was a beautiful Christian poet; his

hymns are found to-day in every collection; his "Jesus, Thy blood and

righteousness" was translated into English by John Wesley; and his noble

"Jesus, still lead on!" is as popular in the cottage homes of Germany as

Newman's "Lead, kindly light" in England. Of the three great qualities

required in a poet, Zinzendorf, however, possessed only two. He had the

sensibility; he had the imagination; but he rarely had the patience to

take pains; and, therefore, nearly all his poetry is lacking in finish

and artistic beauty. He was an earnest social reformer; he endeavoured,

by means of his settlement system, to solve the social problem; and his

efforts to uplift the working classes were praised by the famous German

critic, Lessing. The historian and theologian, Albrecht Ritschl, has

accused him of sectarian motives and of wilfully creating a split in the

Lutheran Church. The accusation is absolutely false. There is nothing

more attractive in the character of Zinzendorf than his unselfish

devotion to one grand ideal. On one occasion, after preaching at Berlin,

he met a young lieutenant. The lieutenant was in spiritual trouble.

"Let me ask you," said Zinzendorf, "one question: Are you alone in your

religious troubles, or do you share them with others?"

The lieutenant replied that some friends and he were accustomed to pray

together.

"That is right," said Zinzendorf. "I acknowledge no Christianity without

fellowship."

In those words he pointed to the loadstar of his life. For that holy

cause of Christian fellowship he spent every breath in his body and

every ducat in his possession. For that cause he laboured among the

peasants of Berthelsdorf, in the streets of Berlin, in the smiling

Wetterau, in the Baltic Provinces, on the shores of Lake Geneva, in the

wilds of Yorkshire, by the silver Thames, on West Indian plantations,

and in the wigwams of the Iroquois and the Delaware. It is not always

fair to judge of men by their conduct. We must try, when possible, to

find the ruling motive; and in motive Zinzendorf was always unselfish.

Sometimes he was guilty of reckless driving; but his wagon was hitched

to a star. No man did more to revive the Moravian Church, and no man did

more, by his very ideals, to retard her later expansion. It is here that

we can see most clearly the contrast between Zinzendorf and John Wesley.

In genius Zinzendorf easily bore the palm; in practical wisdom the

Englishman far excelled him. The one was a poet, a dreamer, a thinker, a

mystic; the other a practical statesman, who added nothing to religious

thought, and yet uplifted millions of his fellow men. At a Synod of the

Brethren held at Herrnhut (1818), John Albertini, the eloquent preacher,

described the key-note of Zinzendorf's life. "It was love to Christ,"

said Albertini, "that glowed in the heart of the child; the same

love that burned in the young man; the same love that thrilled his

middle-age; the same love that inspired his every endeavour." In action

faulty, in motive pure; in judgment erring, in ideals divine; in policy

wayward, in purpose unselfish and true; such was Zinzendorf, the Renewer

of the Church of the Brethren.[137]

BOOK THREE. -- THE RULE OF THE GERMANS.

CHAPTER I. -- THE CHURCH AND HER MISSION, OR THE THREE CONSTITUTIONAL SYNODS, 1760-1775.

As we enter on the closing stages of our journey, the character of the

landscape changes; and, leaving behind the wild land of romance and

adventure, we come out on the broad, high road of slow but steady

progress. The death of Zinzendorf was no crushing blow. At first some

enemies of the Brethren rejoiced, and one prophet triumphantly remarked:

"We shall now see an end of these Moravians." But that time the prophet

spoke without his mantle. Already the Brethren were sufficiently strong

to realize their calling in the world. In Saxony they had established

powerful congregations at Herrnhut and Kleinwelke; in Silesia, at

Niesky, Gnadenberg, Gnadenfrei and Neusalz; in Central Germany, at

Ebersdorf, Neudietendorf and Barby; in North Germany, at Rixdorf and

Berlin; in West Germany, at Neuwied-on-the-Rhine; in Holland, at Zeist,

near Utrecht. At first sight this list does not look very impressive;

but we must, of course, bear in mind that most of these congregations

were powerful settlements, that each settlement was engaged in Diaspora

work, and that the branches of that work had extended to Denmark,

Switzerland and Norway. In Great Britain a similar principle held good.

In England the Brethren had flourishing causes at Fulneck, Gomersal,

Mirfield, Wyke, Ockbrook, Bedford, Fetter Lane, Tytherton, Dukinfield,

Leominster; in Ireland, at Dublin, Gracehill, Gracefield, Ballinderry

and Kilwarlin; and around each of these congregations were numerous

societies and preaching places. In North America they had congregations

at Bethlehem, Emmaus, Graceham, Lancaster, Lititz, Nazareth, New Dorp,

New York, Philadelphia, Schoeneck and York (York Co.); and in

addition, a number of preaching places. In Greenland they had built the

settlements of New Herrnhut and Lichtenau. In the West Indies they had

established congregations in St. Thomas, St. Croix, St. Jan, Jamaica

and Antigua. In Berbice and Surinam they had three main centres of

work. Among the Red Indians Zeisberger was busily engaged. As accurate

statistics are not available, I am not able to state exactly how

many Moravians there were then in the world; but we know that in the

mission-field alone they had over a thousand communicant members and

seven thousand adherents under their special care.

As soon, then, as the leading Brethren in Herrnhut--such as John de

Watteville, Leonard Dober, David Nitschmann, the Syndic, Frederick

Köber, and others--had recovered from the shock occasioned by

Zinzendorf's death, they set about the difficult task of organizing

the work of the whole Moravian Church. First, they formed a provisional

Board of Directors, known as the Inner Council; next, they despatched

two messengers to America, to summon the practical Spangenberg home

to take his place on the board; and then, at the earliest convenient

opportunity, they summoned their colleagues to Marienborn for the first

General Representative Synod of the Renewed Church of the Brethren.

As the Count had left the affairs of the Church in confusion, the

task before the Brethren was enormous {1764.}. They had their Church

constitution to frame; they had their finances to straighten out; they

had their mission in the world to define; they had, in a word, to bring

order out of chaos; and so difficult did they find the task that eleven

years passed away before it was accomplished to any satisfaction. For

thirty years they had been half blinded by the dazzling brilliance of

Zinzendorf; but now they began to see a little more clearly. As long

as Zinzendorf was in their midst, an orderly system of government was

impossible. It was now an absolute necessity. The reign of one man was

over; the period of constitutional government began. At all costs, said

the sensible Frederick Köber, the Count must have no successor. For the

first time the Synod was attended by duly elected congregation deputies:

those deputies came not only from Germany, but from Great Britain,

America and the mission-field; and thus the voice of the Synod was the

voice, not of one commanding genius, but of the whole Moravian Church.

The first question to settle was the Church's Mission. For what purpose

did the Moravian Church exist? To that question the Brethren gave a

threefold answer. First, they said, they must labour in the whole

world; second, their fundamental doctrine must be the doctrine of

reconciliation through the merits of the life and sufferings of Christ

as set forth in the Holy Scriptures and in the Augsburg Confession; and,

third, in their settlements they would continue to enforce that strict

discipline--including the separation of the sexes--without which the

Gospel message would be a mockery. Thus the world was their parish, the

cross their message, the system of discipline their method.

Secondly, the Brethren framed their constitution. Of all the laws ever

passed by the Brethren, those passed at the first General Synod had,

for nearly a hundred years (1764-1857), the greatest influence on the

progress of the Moravian Church. The keyword is "centralization." If

the Church was to be a united body, that Church, held the Brethren, must

have a central court of appeal, a central administrative board, and

a central legislative authority. At this first Constitutional

Synod, therefore, the Brethren laid down the following principles of

government: That all power to make rules and regulations touching the

faith and practice of the Church should be vested in the General Synod;

that this General Synod should consist of all bishops and ministers of

the Church and of duly elected congregation deputies; that no deputy

should be considered duly elected unless his election had been confirmed

by the Lot; and that during an inter-synodal period the supreme

management of Church affairs should be in the hands of three directing

boards, which should all be elected by the Synod, and be responsible to

the next Synod. The first board was the Supreme Board of Management. It

was called the Directory, and consisted of nine Brethren. The second was

the Brethren's ministry of foreign affairs. It was called the Board of

Syndics, and managed the Church's relations with governments. The third

was the Brethren's treasury. It was called the Unity's Warden's Board,

and managed the Church finances. For us English readers, however, the

chief point to notice is that, although these boards were elected by

the General Synod, and although, in theory, they were international

in character, in actual fact they consisted entirely of Germans;

and, therefore, we have the astounding situation that during the next

ninety-three years the whole work of the Moravian Church--in Germany,

in Holland, in Denmark, in Great Britain, in North America, and in

the rapidly extending mission-field--was managed by a board or boards

consisting of Germans and resident in Germany. There all General Synods

were held; there lay all supreme administrative and legislative power.

Of local self-government there was practically none. It is true that

so-called "Provincial Synods" were held; but these Synods had no power

to make laws. At this period the Moravian Church was divided, roughly,

into the six Provinces of Upper Lusatia, Silesia, Holland, England,

Ireland, and America; and in each of these Provinces Synods might be

held. But a Provincial Synod was a Synod only in name. "A Provincial

Synod," ran the law, "is an assembly of the ministers and deputies of

the congregations of a whole province or land who lay to heart the weal

or woe of their congregations, and lay the results of their conferences

before the General Synod or the Directory, which is constituted from one

General Synod to another. In other places and districts, indeed, that

name does not suit; but yet in every congregation and district a solemn

conference of that sort may every year be holden, and report be made out

of it to the Directory and General Synod."

In individual congregations the same principle applied. There, too,

self-government was almost unknown. At the head of each congregation

was a board known as the Elders' Conference; and that Elders' Conference

consisted, not of Brethren elected by the Church members, but of the

minister, the minister's wife, and the choir-labourers, all appointed

by the supreme Directing Board. It is true that the members of the

congregation had power to elect a committee, but the powers of that

committee were strictly limited. It dealt with business matters only,

and all members of the Elders' Conference were ex officio members of the

Committee. We can see, then, what this curious system meant. It meant

that a body of Moravian members in London, Dublin or Philadelphia were

under the authority of a Conference appointed by a Directing Board of

Germans resident in Germany.

The next question to settle was finance; and here again the word

"centralization" must be our guide through the jungle. At that time the

finances had sunk so low that at this first General Synod most of the

ministers and deputies had to sleep on straw, and now the great problem

to settle was, how to deal with Zinzendorf's property. As long as

Zinzendorf was in the flesh he had generously used the income from his

estates for all sorts of Church purposes. But now the situation was

rather delicate. On the one hand, Zinzendorf's landed property belonged

by law to his heirs, i.e., his three daughters, and his wife's nephew,

Count Reuss; on the other hand, he had verbally pledged it to the

Brethren to help them out of their financial troubles. The problem was

solved by purchase. In exchange for Zinzendorf's estates at Berthelsdorf

and Gross-Hennersdorf, the Brethren offered the heirs the sum of

£25,000. The heirs accepted the offer; the deeds of sale were prepared;

and thus Zinzendorf's landed property became the property of the

Moravian Church. We must not call this a smart business transaction.

When the Brethren purchased Zinzendorf's estates, they purchased his

debts as well; and those debts amounted now to over £150,000. The one

thing the Brethren gained was independence. They were no longer under an

obligation to the Zinzendorf family.

At the next General Synod, held again at Marienborn {1769.}, the

centralizing principle was still more emphatically enforced. As the

three separate boards of management had not worked very smoothly

together, the Brethren now abolished them, and resolved that henceforth

all supreme administrative authority should be vested in one grand

comprehensive board, to be known as the Unity's Elders' Conference.[138] The Conference was divided into three departments--the College of

Overseers, the College of Helpers, and the College of Servants. It is

hard for English readers to realize what absolute powers this board

possessed. The secret lies in the Brethren's use of the Lot. Hitherto

the use of the Lot had been haphazard; henceforth it was a recognized

principle of Church government. At this Synod the Brethren laid down the

law that all elections,[139] appointments and important decisions should

be ratified by the Lot. It was used, not only to confirm elections, but

often, though not always, to settle questions of Church policy. It

was often appealed to at Synods. If a difficult question came up for

discussion, the Brethren frequently consulted the Lot. The method was to

place three papers in a box, and then appoint someone to draw one out.

If the paper was positive, the resolution was carried; if the paper

was negative, the resolution was lost; if the paper was blank, the

resolution was laid on the table. The weightiest matters were settled in

this way. At one Synod the Lot decided that George Waiblinger should

be entrusted with the task of preparing an "Exposition of Christian

Doctrine"; and yet when Waiblinger fulfilled his duty, the Brethren

were not satisfied with his work. At another Synod the Lot decided that

Spangenberg should not be entrusted with that task, and yet the Brethren

were quite convinced that Spangenberg was the best man for the purpose.

But perhaps the greatest effect of the Lot was the power and dignity

which it conferred on officials. No man could be a member of the

U.E.C. unless his election had been confirmed by the Lot; and when that

confirmation had been obtained, he felt that he had been appointed, not

only by his Brethren, but also by God. Thus the U.E.C., appointed by

the Lot, employed the Lot to settle the most delicate questions. For

example, no Moravian minister might marry without the consent of the

U.E.C. The U.E.C. submitted his choice to the Lot; and if the Lot

decided in the negative, he accepted the decision as the voice of God.

In the congregations the same practice prevailed. All applications for

church membership and all proposals of marriage were submitted to the

Local Elders' Conference; and in each case the Conference arrived at its

decision by consulting the Lot. To some critics this practice appeared a

symptom of lunacy. It was not so regarded by the Brethren. It was their

way of seeking the guidance of God; and when they were challenged

to justify their conduct, they appealed to the example of the eleven

Apostles as recorded in Acts i. 26, and also to the promise of Christ,

"Whatsoever ye shall ask in My name, I will do it."

At this Synod the financial problem came up afresh. The Brethren tried a

bold experiment. As the Church's debts could not be extinguished in any

other way, they determined to appeal to the generosity of the members;

and to this end they now resolved that the property of the Church should

be divided into as many sections as there were congregations, that each

congregation should have its own property and bear its own burden, and

that each congregation-committee should supply the needs of its own

minister. Of course, money for general Church purposes would still be

required: but the Brethren trusted that this would come readily from the

pockets of loving members.

But love, though a beautiful silken bond, is sometimes apt to snap. The

new arrangement was violently opposed. What right, asked grumblers, had

the Synod to saddle individual congregations with the debts of the whole

Church? The local managers of diaconies proved incompetent. At Neuwied

one Brother lost £6,000 of Church money in a lottery. The financial

pressure became harder than ever. James Skinner, a member of the London

congregation, suggested that the needful money should be raised by

weekly subscriptions. In England this proposal might have found favour;

in Germany it was rejected with contempt. The relief came from an

unexpected quarter. At Herrnhut the members were celebrating the

congregation Jubilee {1772.}; and twenty poor Single Sisters there,

inspired with patriotic zeal, concocted the following letter to the

U.E.C.: "After maturely weighing how we might be able, in proportion

to our slender means, to contribute something to lessen the debt on the

Unity--i.e., our own debt--we have cheerfully agreed to sacrifice and

dispose of all unnecessary articles, such as gold and silver plate,

watches, snuff-boxes, rings, trinkets and jewellery of every kind for

the purpose of establishing a Sinking Fund, on condition that not

only the congregation at Herrnhut, but all the members of the Church

everywhere, rich and poor, old and young, agree to this proposal. But

this agreement is not to be binding on those who can contribute in

other ways." The brave letter caused an immense sensation. The spirit

of generosity swept over the Church like a freshening breeze. For very

shame the other members felt compelled to dive into their pockets; and

the young men, not being possessed of trinkets, offered free labour in

their leisure hours. The good folk at Herrnhut vied with each other

in giving; and the Brethren at Philadelphia vied with the Brethren at

Herrnhut. The Sinking Fund was established. In less than twelve months

the Single Sisters at Herrnhut raised £1,300; the total contributions at

Herrnhut amounted to £3,500; and in three years the Sinking Fund had a

capital of £25,000. Thus did twenty Single Sisters earn a high place on

the Moravian roll of honour. At the same time, the U.E.C. were able to

sell the three estates of Marienborn, Herrnhaag and Lindsey House; and

in these ways the debt on the Church was gradually wiped off.