BROTHER AGONIUS AND HIS PROPHECY
No great genius was ever without some mixture of madness,
nor can anything grand or superior to the voice of
common mortals be spoken except by the agitated soul.
--Aristotle.
Brother Agonius, his real name being Michael Wohlforth, or Welfare, as
he was known among the English settlers--what a shock, notwithstanding
our boasted fortitude and resignation, his death was to us!
He was born, as became his warlike soul, at the fortress of Memel, on
the Baltic Sea. Coming to this New World in his early youth, he at once
joined himself to the Pietists, the Hermits of the Wissahickon; but he
remained not long there, for his fiery, intrepid zeal left him no other
mind but that he must journey to and fro, near and far, even making a
long and dangerous journey to the Germans of North Carolina, preaching
to them as he did to every one, in season and out of season, wherever he
went, to repent their godless lives and to submit themselves wholly to
the Master's will.
Upon his return, in 1723, from that distant province, he joined himself
to our _Vorsteher_ who, as "Brother Beissel," was then living the life
of a Solitary in the depths of a forest not many miles north from
Ephrata, which at that time had not yet been founded. In the solitude of
this forest these two hermits, so alike in their energetic, impetuous,
stubborn zeal, lived a life of silent contemplation and adoration of the
mysteries of the Creator for some time, and from thenceforth even though
they differed not infrequently with all the force and outspoken
directness of their strong-willed natures, yet were they firm friends
and companions until death separated them.
I recall how in later years in our Kloster life at Ephrata, when we had
built Kedar and the other houses of worship, as I have already related,
he became alarmed at their size, and deprecated especially the
innovation of the innocent bells, so that for a time he withdrew from us
and again became a hermit, in the mountains of Zoar, some five miles
from the Kloster; but he soon resumed his life with us to remain as a
valued co-worker for the rest of his days.
And now that he was gone, how we missed him! His boldness,
aggressiveness, his fearlessness and fidelity in proclaiming far and
wide his doctrine as to the Seventh Day Sabbath made his death a heavy
loss not only to our community, but to all the Sabbatarians, German and
English, in the province. He would travel on foot, no matter how hard
and toilsome the way, staff in hand, in pilgrim garb, and no matter
whether by country roadside or in the slave markets in the streets of
the chief city of our province, in church or meeting-house, wherever he
could find an audience, large or small, to listen to his voice, he would
stand boldly forth, yet in the spirit of humility, and exhort and
admonish with all his power, in German or in English, speaking both with
equal ease, oblivious of taunts and revilings and persecutions, that his
hearers live in obedience to God's commands as to the Sabbath day.
To Brother Beissel and to me the death of our brother came with far
greater force than to the rest of the Solitary. Even more than our
superintendent and myself he was unalterably opposed to the Eckerlings
and their unchristian innovations; for it can be said in all moderation
that hardly would we three succeed in overthrowing some especially
offensive scheme of the Eckerings when one of the remaining four would
present something new to torment us.
One of their abominations, which originated in the busy mind of Emanuel
Eckerling, Brother Elimelech, was the baptism of the living for the
dead, and so persistent and subtle were his arguments that he finally
won over to him our superintendent in spite of all that Brother Agonius
and I could do to save our leader from this tremendous foolishness.
So it came about that on a certain day a procession was formed of the
Brotherhood of Zion, the Spiritual Virgins, and the secular
congregation, and as they wended their way slowly and solemnly down the
hill and across the meadow to a pool in the Cocalico, Brother Agonius
and I having steadfastly refused to countenance in any way the thing,
were nevertheless compelled to say to each other that our Brothers and
Sisters were an impressive sight. The solemn procession having arrived
at the pool special hymns were sung and fervent invocations were made,
intended no doubt to ascend, but which to my wrathful mood seemed more
fit to descend.
I care not to dwell longer on this irreligious proceeding than to say
that, with Brother Beissel as administrator, Emanuel Eckerling was
immersed for his dead mother, and Alexander Mack the younger, for his
dead father, although these departed ones had both been baptized in
their own flesh in Germany. Indeed, this baptismal fever became so
virulent that everybody, irrespective of faith, was becoming baptized
for some deceased relative, so that I gravely wondered whether or not
some utterly daft ones would be baptized for Adam and Eve.
Another scheme of the Eckerlings, into which our leader fell without the
slightest hesitation, was that instead of "Brother Beissel," he should
be called "_Vater Friedsam_" (Father Friedsam, meaning the peaceful
one). This suggestion caused great uproar among us which finally settled
itself into an agreement that the Solitary should call him "Father," and
the secular congregation, "Brother," and so it remained for a number of
years, but as for me, I always called him "Brother"--"_Timeo Danaos et
dona ferentes_."
Would I could say I were done telling of these Eckerlings, for it
seemeth to require as long to get rid of them here in the writing as it
did to get them out of our community. About this time a pilgrimage from
Ephrata was made by Brother Beissel and Brothers Elimelech and Onesimus
and one or two others of the Solitary to the Dunker settlement at
Amwell, in our sister province of New Jersey, with whom we had become
acquainted about two years prior hereto. The charge of this pilgrimage
was in Brother Elimelech, but he was with our Amwell Brethren only a
short time when he succeeded in making as much trouble for them as he
had already made for us. First, because when he preached he kept on and
never knew when to stop so that even though his hearers were used to
long sermons the utmost patience could not endure his protracted
discourses. Secondly, because of his proposing midnight watches and the
like, such as had been fastened on us, so that finally he was dismissed
and returned to us in disgrace. But as there is some good in all
misfortune so it resulted that out of the strained conditions in the
Amwell congregation a number of their brethren, among them Dietrich
Fahnestock, Conrad Boldhauser, Johannes Mohr, Bernhard Gitter and
several others with their families, came to us and either joined the
Solitary or our secular congregation.
Hardly had this storm subsided than our Brother Onesimus, thinking no
doubt it was his turn, concluded that even though properly baptized and
notwithstanding he had taken the vows of celibacy, yet there was nothing
to prevent him from re-entering the world and marrying, so he advised
the Brotherhood to make a new covenant with the Virgin Mary as the
patroness of their Order.
As a visible sign of their betrothal to the virgin, Brother Onesimus
advised that the Brothers and Sisters all cut the tonsure. Brother
Beissel, who always counseled chastity and celibacy, fell into this
folly of the Eckerlings just as readily as he had into the former ones
and hardly had the prior convened the Brotherhood in the chapter house,
where each Brother in turn kneeling down repeated his pledge of celibacy
and had his hair cut and his crown shorn, when our leader, not to be
outdone by the prior, called together the Spiritual Virgins, in their
_Saal_.
After reconsecrating the assembled Sisters to the heavenly Bridegroom,
Brother Beissel, with the assistance of another Brother, cut the hair of
each of the Sisterhood in the manner of the primitive Christian church,
after which the crowns of the Sisters were likewise shorn, our
superintendent gathering up the tresses and carrying them to Zion where
he laid them upon the altar expressing the wish that he might live until
the Sisters' heads were gray--and it was further resolved and ordered
that the tonsure was to be renewed every three months and in the
meantime no one was to put shears to his or her head. Thus was another
madness inflicted upon us.
Our prior continuing to exalt himself in his priesthood, had our Sisters
make for him a robe or costume such as is described in the Bible as
having been worn by the high priest in the temple, and when our prior
presided thereafter at the _agapae_ and baptisms he presented to the
unsophisticated a most gorgeous sight, while to me the whole thing was
disgusting. Following the tonsure and the priestly robe Prior Onesimus
introduced night-watches and processions, which resulted not only that
our superintendent was virtually superseded by our cunning prior, but
what was far worse, these abominations, so foreign to our simple
Sabbatarian precepts, becoming known to the surrounding country brought
additional ridicule and contempt upon us and for many years wherever we
went we had hurled at us such epithets (_Schimpfworte_) as _Glatzköpfe_
(bald heads), _Vollmonde_ (full moons), _Bettel-Mönche_ (beggar friars),
and _Pfaffenmucker_ (Papish double-dealers). Not only were we compelled
to listen to such nicknames, but by reason of this aping of the monastic
customs of the Middle Ages we incurred the ire of the Scotch-Irish
settlers, hard-headed Presbyterians, between the Octoraro and the
Susquehanna, so that no matter what we or our friends said to the
contrary these stubborn old Covenanters were sure we were nothing but a
nest of Jesuit emissaries, and the "croppies," as our Presbyterian
friends were wont to call us were decried from their pulpits as well as
held up to scorn by the members of that church wherever and whenever the
opportunity afforded.
Still the Eckerlings went on in their unceasing activities. Having built
Zion according to their own ideas, they were, however, not contented;
for as they had left no room for the congregational gatherings all the
assemblages and love feasts were held in the house of prayer adjoining
the Sister house, Kedar; but as the Zionitic Brotherhood had to
traverse the intervening distance in all kinds of bad weather and as the
nightly processions had to take their way toward the habitation of the
Spiritual Virgins all sorts of unfavorable comments were made by the
outsiders, who, judging from their own evil minds, did not hesitate to
call into question the honesty of the Brethren in their adherence to
their vows.
Thus it was determined to erect a building which should be a combined
prayer and schoolhouse, to adjoin Zion and be large enough to
accommodate the secular congregation as well as all the Solitary within
the community, and so rapidly did the work progress and so favorable was
the weather (although it was late in the fall not a drop of rain or
flake of snow or frost appeared until the middle of the following
January), that the work on the chapel went on without intermission or
hindrance, so that by the following summer, Zion's _Saal_, as it was
called, a stately three-story structure, was completed, the lower floor
being for worship and the second for the love feasts and _pedelavium_
and the third being divided into small cells for the Solitary Brothers
of the Zionitic Order. In July of 1740 the last joint services were held
in Kedar, to which all the Sabbatarians, far and near, were invited, not
excepting the Welsh and English Brethren in Nantmill and Newtown,
invitations being scattered broadcast even among the Germans beyond the
Schuylkill, and to all who came the hospitality of the community was
most cordially extended. After that time Kedar fell exclusively to the
Order of Spiritual Virgins.
Not two weeks later the Brotherhood of Zion dedicated their new temple,
at midnight, the prior not losing the opportunity for making the
occasion remarkable for an interminable number of processions,
incantations, prayers, and mysterious ceremonies, said to date from
Pharaoh, from whose bondage we, unlike the children of Israel, did not
seem able to free ourselves.
About a month later, our Brother Beissel, being now the acknowledged
superintendent of our entire community, must surrender himself so
completely to the vanities of the Eckerlings that in the presence of the
whole congregation, from among whom I saw Sister Bernice look at me with
shy pride, he solemnly consecrated Brother Onesimus, Brother Enoch, and
myself to the priesthood, by the laying on of hands, after which with
most solemn and ancient ceremony we had conferred on us the
centuries-old Order of Melchizedek, although what this order had to do
with our Christian life, I confess I have never yet found out, only
consenting to the doubtful honor in order to appease our
superintendent's displeasure, whose rigorous spirit often pressed on my
slower one.
And now, our superintendent, assuming the rôle of Grand Master of the
Zionitic Brotherhood, deposed Brother Jotham and in his stead, despite
the protests of himself and his following, appointed Brother Onesimus,
Prior, or Perfect Master, of the Brotherhood. Our new prior, however,
was even worse than his brother and applied the discipline of the order
so rigidly that I was compelled to write to a friend, that "Now was
there between the poor devotees of Ephrata and the wool-headed African
slaves no other difference than that we are white and free slaves," and
indeed, I fear I almost felt toward the Eckerlings like the English king
who wondered whether there was no one to rid him of his enemies.
At the risk of trespassing too far on the patience of those who may read
this, I shall narrate of the clock and bells donated to the community by
my father, and which the Eckerlings obtained permission to place in the
steeple over the roof of the _Saal_. This clock held an ingenious
attachment for chiming the bells and for ringing them at certain times
during the day and night, to call us to our various and now almost
innumerable devotions. When this bell was rung at midnight, not only did
the Solitary arise from their wooden couches, but for miles around,
whenever the notes of the bell could be heard, all the families arose
also and held their worship at the same time; but though the fires of
first love for their faith burned strongly among the secular members at
this time, yet it finally came about that the congregation demanded a
house where they could worship unhindered by the exacting rules and
ceremonies of the Brotherhood of Zion, who seeing in this an excellent
opportunity for securing their temple wholly to their own uses, fell in
with might and main to prepare the frame and timbers for another prayer
house, nominally for the exclusive use of the secular members.
And now, though all our houses of worship were on the higher ground, the
site for this new temple was chosen down in the meadow, and this less
pretentious _Saal_ still survives, while its loftily situated and proud
predecessors have long ago passed away. Thus as the Lord hath promised
doth he exalt the lowly and bring down the haughty.
In size the new prayer house was to be forty feet square and that many
feet in height, thus symbolizing the perfect number, although it hath
been claimed that some of the builders wondering what might happen if
they followed not the perfect proportions, made the width two feet
narrower and the height somewhat greater than forty feet. Be that as it
may, I have not seen in these fifty years since the building was put up
that the variation, if there were such, hath made any difference for
good or ill.
But the good fortune attending us during the building of the _Saal_
forsook us now, for many delays and heavy disappointments fell upon us
ere our task was performed; for the weather during the fall and winter
of 1740 and 1741 was exceptionally hard, there being the severest storms
and the extremest cold. Never since have I seen such cold and sleet and
ice and snow as during that awful winter. The Cocalico was completely
hidden under its thick covering of ice and snow so that a stranger would
not have known there was a stream there. At times the snow was three
feet deep on the level, and where it had drifted from the winds, cabins
and outbuildings were completely covered over. Families were imprisoned
in their homes. Cattle died from want of fodder. Even the wild beasts in
the forest, though knowing so well how to take care of themselves, died
of hunger, so that deer were found dead in the woods. Indeed, it was no
infrequent sight to see the pretty animals, usually so timid, driven by
their great hunger to the very cabin doors for food, sometimes even
mingling with the cattle. The settlers, especially of the more remote
districts, suffered greatly from lack of bread, and had little to live
on but the carcasses of the deer found in the swamps. Even the Indians
suffered on account of the lack of game. Often during the night there
would be borne to our ears the strangest sounds, heavings, and
groanings from the ice-bound, rebellious Cocalico, the walls of our
buildings even seeming to strain and crack as though they would fall
asunder. Sometimes at long intervals during those dark, bitter, cold
nights there would fall from the depths of the sky the trumpet calls of
wild fowls, winging their way I know not whither, but still, I know,
within His care. At times, these shrill cries came with such strength
and suddenness that Sonnlein would jump up out of the soundest sleep,
cuddling up close to me as though only I could save him from those
mysterious, threatening voices.
But the Solitary, despite the severity of the winter, pressed on at
every relaxation of the weather toward the completion of our new prayer
house, and as the spring opened, we being now joined by the congregation
at large, the work went on rapidly, though the building which our
superintendent named "Peniel" (being the name Jacob gave to the place
where he wrestled with God), was not made tenantable until the following
December, when it was duly consecrated to God.
All during this hard winter I could see that Brother Agonius, his hardy
frame worn out by excessive zeal, was suffering keenly from the cold,
piercing winds, and I felt with deepening sadness, day after day as I
saw his infirmity increase, that our brother must soon cease to be among
us. How bravely he fought to remain with us and how uncomplainingly he
faced the inevitable end, his rugged heart mellowing and ripening into
sweeter and more resigned humility before being plucked from its stem by
the Master's loving hand!
Spring had not yet yielded itself to summer--for it was only the latter
part of May when the fields and the woods were gay with flowers--when
what he stubbornly maintained was only a slight weakness passed into the
serious illness that in a few days ended his labors on earth. But such
was his unyielding will that on the Sabbath before his death he was at
meeting, and the following evening there were good hopes for his
recovery.
About an hour before midnight--Sonnlein having gone to sleep soon after
dark--I bethought me to go to our brother's _Kammer_ and give him such
comfort as he might need. I found him alone in his little cell sitting
feebly on his wooden bench, so that I could see he was suffering great
weakness. At first he resisted my gentle persuasions to lie down and
rest, but finally consented thereto, even, after much coaxing, letting
me spread my robe under him and rest his head on it; for he was so thin
I could not bear to see his poor frame with nothing between it and the
hard board's.
I rejoiced to see him drop off into a deep sleep that I fondly hoped
would last until the morning; but there was a something about his sleep
so unnaturally deep and profound I feared it might be the forerunner of
his speedy dissolution.
It was close now to the midnight hour and soon there rang out from the
darkness the clear notes of our bell calling the Brothers and Sisters to
their wonted devotions. Scarcely had the first stroke died away when I
was startled almost out of my wits to see Brother Agonius sit up
straight on his bench, looking ahead with a fixed, steady stare.
"What seest thou, brother?" I asked softly and I know my voice trembled,
for I understood not his strange gazing.
But he heeded me not in the least only that he appeared to be muttering
to himself. Then his voice, becoming more firm, he said, still as though
to himself, "Ye foolish Eckerlings; flee ye from the wrath to come!"
"What meanest thou?" I asked wonderingly; but still he heeded
not, only muttering as before something about the Eckerlings
of which now and then I would catch some few words, which seemed
to me like, "O ye Eckerlings; ye poor Eckerlings; driven
away--alone--captured--tortured--separated--persecuted--homeless";
and then my brother sighed as though a world of woe oppressed him
and murmured, "Repent ye; repent ye"; all this time my flesh
creeping with dread as the low tone of the dying man uttered this
marvelous prophecy; for such, in truth, it was.
Finally he lay down again, but still muttering and mumbling, only lower
than before. Once he mentioned my name and it seemed to me he said
pityingly, "Poor Brother Jabez," and then after a long pause, "Poor
Sister Bernice," and then after a still longer pause, during which I
waited anxiously for what might follow he said more clearly, "The fight
will not be long; comfort thou him, Lord"; so that I could not keep out
a great fear for that he should couple my name with my dear sister's so
strangely; for I had oft heard that dying ones see not only the past but
even the future with great clearness, and I could not help the dread
that held my heart as though with a hand of ice.
When the Brethren dropped in after their devotions our brother was again
suffering such agony that he declared--being in his senses again--his
sacrifice on the cross was now complete, wherefore he did not know
whether any saint had ever suffered such martyrdom, and while the
Brethren were singing at his request the hymn, "The time is not yet
come," he asked that they intercede with God that he might open to him
his prison door.
As his end drew near he asked that certain psalms and parts of Tauler's
"Last Hours" be repeatedly read to him, after which he asked to be
anointed in the manner of the first Christians. This was done, Brother
Beissel applying the chrism. On the Wednesday following, Brother
Agonius kept looking keenly toward the hour-glass, for it had been
revealed to him that his end was to come at the ninth hour of that day.
And so when the ninth hour came he sat up straight on his wooden bench,
but immediately fell over scarce breathing; but he revived again and
asked feebly whether he had not died. With the end of the ninth hour he
passed away with the senseless sands of the hour-glass.
The next day his mortal remains were placed in a neat coffin where the
Brethren and Sisters and the settlers of all denominations for miles
around could gaze once more upon the face and form of this unconquerable
Christian soldier and martyr and pay their last respects to the memory
of our eloquent exhorter. I shall not dwell upon the rites and
ceremonies that made his burial so solemn and memorable. As his body was
lowered into its resting-place in the meadow a little to the east of
Brother Beissel's cabin, a special funeral hymn was sung by the
Sabbatarians, composed for the occasion by his lifelong friend, our
superintendent.
After the singing of the hymn the Brotherhood of Zion, being nearest
about the grave, closed with its mystic rites the funeral ceremonies,
the Sisters in a tearful group standing beyond us, and all being
surrounded by the sincere friends of our departed brother, and the
curious ones who ever attend such sad occasions.
A modest tombstone marks his sleeping-place, bearing the following
German inscription by Brother Beissel, which I translate freely thus:
HERE REPOSES THE GODLY WARRIOR
AGONIUS
DIED ANNO 1741.
_Aged 54 years, 4 months, 28 days._
Victory brings the crown
In the fight for faith, grace, and renown.
Thus blessings crown the warrior true
Who bravely sin and Belial slew.
Peacefully he passed to his chamber of rest
Where now he is free of all pain and distress.