RETROSPECT
Moreo'er, the shields so steady and the consecrated swords,
O God, that I were worthy to join the victor lords.
Then should I like the others achieve a prize untold,
Not lands that have been promised, nor king's or noble's gold,
But oh, a wondrous crown, and for evermore to wear
A crown which poorest soldier can win with axe and spear.
Yea, if the noble crusade I might follow o'er the sea,
I evermore should sing, All's well! and nevermore, Ah me!
Nevermore, Ah me!
--Walther Von der Vogelweide.
And now, after the long lapse of many years since my boy and our
Genoveva were made one--and yet how short the time hath been--one of my
chiefest delights is to dwell on the past. Mine eyes are no longer
turned toward the future with eager questioning as in my youth. In mine
old age I am like unto an old tree standing alone, a solitary landmark
of the decline of our Kloster, the setting sun casting my shadow toward
the morning. The Kloster hath never survived the indomitable spirit of
its founder, Brother Beissel, and his sturdy associates. Slowly but
surely its power hath diminished. Since the days our warrior, Brother
Wohlforth, left us many others of our number have gone to their eternal
reward. Brother Obed, our schoolmaster, with his kindly, genial soul,
long ago have I missed him from his accustomed place, and the
Eckerlings, of whose sad fate we heard years after they left us, they
too, with their dreams of commercial conquest, have passed away to that
realm which harbors neither bargain nor sale.
The first great loss that came to us was our Brother Enoch, our justice,
who died but a few years after that never to be forgotten wedding; but
not many years before his death there was great rejoicing among us to
know that the serious breach between our leader and our justice had been
closed, and though our justice had greatly grieved us when he allowed
himself to be fooled so to accept a commission from the governor, yet
when we saw the door of our brother's long spiritual captivity had been
opened we welcomed him gladly, so that his old acquaintances of the
Kloster all told him the lost piece of silver was now found. Not long
after, our congregation assembled for a love feast at which he, by
partaking of the holy sacraments, was reincorporated into our spiritual
community, although we willingly after his death yielded to his mother
church the honor of having garnered in his body.
He died on a Sunday after a violent attack of colic, and was buried on
his farm at Heidelberg, not a great distance from us to the northeast,
where with his children and a number of Indians he awaits the call of
the last day.
And now I come to the closing years of our beloved leader--and surely
these were full of trouble. For a number of years prior to his death it
became manifest to all of us that physical infirmities were fast growing
upon him. But far more grave than these were the estrangements he
suffered more or less from both of our Solitary Orders, though it
seemeth not becoming to set forth here the false and bitter accusations
made against our leader so that his cup of bitterness was pressed to the
full.
All during the winter of 1767-1768, besides the distress of mind and
spirit, he suffered from many diseases, chiefly a wasting cough, and at
the beginning of July of 1768 his various ailments became so aggravated
he was most of the time in great pain, so that he was forced to exclaim
more than once to me--and I rejoice now I never deserted him--that he
was nailed to the cross; but such was his stubborn will and fortitude
that he refused to acknowledge any physical sickness, but would often
say his sufferings were mere spiritual throes preceding his new birth.
He also found great comfort in the firm persuasion, which many of his
most intimate followers held with him, that he would be spared the pains
of a bodily dissolution and would be translated into the realms of bliss
as Enoch and Elijah of old; but in this, like his predecessor on the
Wissahickon, Magister Johannus Kelpius, our leader was destined to make
his exit in no wise different from ordinary mortals.
Notwithstanding his grievous infirmities our leader attended to the
duties of his office to within eight days of his end, when for the last
time, in his priestly robes, he officiated at a love feast, and seeing
that his end was nigh he consecrated Brother Philemon and Brother
Eleazer and myself to the priesthood, from which his successor should be
selected. While in such suffering he received word, only three days
before his death, that one of our oldest housemothers was breathing her
last, and that she wished to see our leader even if he could not speak
to her. So with him leaning on my arm we went to our dear sister's,
thereby fulfilling her wish.
"At last," so our _Chronicon_ states, "Wednesday, the sixth day of July
of the year 1768 came when he laid aside his mortal raiment."
On that morning, having rallied somewhat, he attended prayers in the
Sisters' _Saal_, and sought earnestly for reconciliation with our
prioress, but in vain. As he returned to his cabin, sad at heart--for
with all his fiery nature he ever strove to merit his favorite name,
Father Friedsam Gottrecht (Father Peaceful Godright)--none of us thought
his departure was so near; for the powers of darkness, as he said, could
not prevail upon him to lie down.
Meanwhile the Brethren kept a constant watch, for many of our little
flock looked for great happenings, feeling assured the powers of death
would have no easy struggle with such an old soldier of the cross, who
was neither accustomed to call on men for mercy nor to yield to the
powers of darkness.
But by the time the sun had stood at midday, we could see the end was
near, and all the Solitary and the near-by householders gathered about
him in his little cabin, soon filling it, many standing outside the
doorway. On his little bench, as hard and uncomfortable as any of
ours--for he scorned any comforts denied to his disciples--sat our
little ruler, gaunt, wasted, his features thin and drawn, and eyes
sunken. Around him clustered the Brethren of Bethania, sad and silent,
but not shedding any tears to annoy his stubborn spirit. Back of the
Brethren stood the Sisters, some of the shorter ones on a bench, and
most of them weeping quietly despite their fortitude. All was silence
and expectation. But though within the cabin reigned the darkness of
death, outside under the glowing sun all was life and brightness, like
the glorious radiance that would burst through the gates of death, for
our beloved leader.
Over an hour we stood, not saying a word, but all the while our brother
becoming weaker and weaker from the great heat and the stifling air in
so small a cabin. At last he broke the silence and asked the Brethren to
bless him and receive his memory into their fellowship. Then I anointed
him with the holy oil, and as I spread the sacred chrism upon his
forehead I gave him my blessing with the laying on of hands, after which
all the Brethren in turn gave him the kiss of peace to take with him on
his journey.
After this tender ceremony was over he consented, after my continued
persuasion, to lie down on his bench, resting his head upon the wooden
block that had served him so many years. He lay quietly for a while with
eyes closed, and then as if gazing into the very depths of eternity, he
partly raised himself on his elbow and exclaimed, "_O wehe! O wehe! O
wunder! O wunder!_" (Oh, woe! Oh, woe! Oh, wonder! Oh, wonder!) and then
fell back, his spirit soon after taking its flight peacefully from its
earthly home to that still more wonderful home of which oft during his
stay with us he had received such gracious visions.
Immediately upon his death messengers were sent out near and far with
slips prepared by the Sisters, inviting the people to the funeral of our
_Vorsteher_ which, on account of the great heat, was set but two days
following his death, the Brethren meanwhile preparing the body for
burial, the Sisterhood keeping vigil, five Sisters constantly watching
and reciting prayers for our dead.
On the day of the funeral our usual customs were observed, such as
sweeping the floor of his cabin, pouring a bucket of water over the
door-sill, and the chalking of the three crosses upon the side of the
doorway. And there were those who, following an old German superstition,
went about and informed every hive of bees within our grounds and for a
considerable distance without, of the death of our leader, it being
firmly believed that the bees would swarm if this notice to them were
neglected; and also every barrel, keg, and crock of wine and vinegar and
pickles and sauer kraut and preserved fruits, in order not to be
spoiled, had to be turned on the shelves or skids.
The funeral services were held in the great _Saal_ we had built many
years before at a right angle with Bethania, where our brother had so
often preached. After a sermon by me there were addresses by Brothers
Philemon and Obed. We sang special hymns, and never did our Kloster
music, in which our leader had ever taken such great pride, sound more
sweet and heavenly. When the services were over in the _Saal_ the body
of our _Vorsteher_ was carried to the graveyard close by, followed by
the immense throng in spite of the short notice gathered from every
direction. Before lowering him into his last resting-place, the lid of
the coffin was again raised, so that according to our ritual the sun
might once more shine upon his body. Then his body was turned slightly
to the right side, being kept in place by a piece of sod, thus ensuring
perfect rest in his grave. The lid was then closed down, and the little
form of our great-souled leader was lowered into the dark cell, there to
repose until the trumpet of the angel shall call him forth to receive
his crown.
On the same day our brother died, a Sister who lately joined the Roses
of Saron passed away, and this being joined to the death of the
housemother but a few days before, gave the Solitary firm assurance that
the departed spirits of our sister and the housemother had been deputed
to attend the spirit of our _Vorsteher_ and minister to it.
Often during his life he had promised he would return in spirit to the
Kloster after leaving this world. Many of the Solitary as well as the
settlers about us firmly believed this. It hath ever been a matter of
much thought with me whether or not the spirits of the dead ever
revisit their beloved ones on earth. It seemeth to me it should and must
be so, and yet have I never been vouchsafed such visions. But only two
days after his burial our leader appeared to Brother Luther and Sister
Catharina, in their cells. He also appeared to our Brother Ezechial, who
for some fancied grievance had been the only one of our number not to
attend the funeral and gave our disgruntled brother most earnest
admonitions, so that Brother Ezechial became a changed man, for the
better let it be said. Later on, our leader's visits to the Solitary
became nightly occurrences, and indeed he even appeared to one of our
Germantown brethren.
Be these things as they may, for I record not what I saw--merely what I
heard--this I know to be true, that with all his failings and
short-comings our Kloster reached its greatest renown during the rule of
our little leader. Naught but a poor journeyman baker had he been in his
early days; of little learning, but to a man of such great talents as
his, the lack of learning from books hindered him little. In his
lifetime he originated, with some help from others, our wonderful
Kloster music, himself composing fully one thousand pieces of music,
printing over four hundred of them, and full of beauty and prophetic
insight are they, so that we hold them as great treasures. And with all
his fiery nature, there was in this man such tenderness and humility
that in time most of the estrangements of his early Kloster life were
fully reconciled, thereby confirming what he ever maintained, that he
was a lover of peace.
But I shall not longer darken my story with the deaths of my beloved
Brothers and Sisters. I still have my Sonnlein and his devoted Genoveva.
After that blissful day, they went with his uncle, living with him, he
being a bachelor, until his death, after which, his estate having come
to Sonnlein, he and Genoveva, at my earnest persuasions, took up a farm
near by, which Sonnlein tilleth like a good husbandman, only that he
never hath outlived his love for hunting and fishing, even though he is
now on toward middle age. But such hath ever been the simplicity of his
life that he hath the strength and spirit of one in his thirties.
As for our beloved Genoveva, she too is of those blessed ones who never
grow old--for surely time seemeth to have no influence on that fair face
and graceful form. What a sweet, noble woman she is! Indeed, it is
Sonnlein's oft-repeated jest, that he is exceedingly jealous of old
_Vaterchen_; to which Genoveva maketh gentle retort that she never quite
understandeth how she came even to think of Sonnlein while I was about.
But she is all devotion to her Sonnlein and her children; and what a
brood of healthy, happy-hearted, romping, noisy boys and girls they are,
so that often they are reproved for worrying so much their grandfather
Jabez--to such dignity have I attained. But with all their sitting on me
and sliding over me and pulling my beard and hanging to my cloak
wherever I go, I would not for worlds have them otherwise.
The eldest one, a tall, grave, solemn-eyed youth, who is ever at his
books, and asketh me most serious questions, hath been named Jabez,
against my earnest protestations.
A second, a lively young imp, who careth for everything but books, they
have called Peter, he no doubt representing my more worldly life ere I
joined the Kloster, as Jabez standeth for my stricter life thereafter.
Indeed, I often aver that had I more names Sonnlein and Genoveva would
make use of every one. There is too, a precious little toddler whom they
consented at my request to call Sonnlein, all my names being used up.
Beside the cradle in which lieth a plump, rosy, crowing, happy baby, our
little Genoveva, stands a sweet-faced little maid, with hair of gold and
heaven's own blue eyes, whom, though I have ever been a great stickler
for impartiality, I cannot help loving a trifle the best; for Genoveva,
with that marvelous insight women seem to have above men in matters of
the heart, hath named the little maid Bernice. Ah me!
As for me, I cannot help feeling that mayhap I did not use all of my few
talents faithfully. I wonder sometimes whether I did not bury some here
in the solitary life of the Kloster. Not that we were selfish, or mean,
or lacked in love for our Father; but perhaps, aye, I fear it is so, man
cannot best serve man by withdrawing from him. I see clearly now it was
not the Master's way. He taught neither fasting nor feasting; neither
vigils nor sluggish sleep. Even within the sacred bounds of our Kloster,
sequestered from the world, things were not--it pains me e'en now to
say--as holy as they should have been. Hate, spite, envy, greed, lust,
passion, ambition, intrigue, quarrelings, bickerings, misunderstandings,
false, bitter charges, prevailed within the monastery no less than
without. I understand now what the deep-sighted Luther meant when he
said that the world is in the heart of man and not in his surroundings.
It is even so, and because it is so, I cannot withstand the arguments of
those who contend truthfully that the life of the monk and the nun,
sweet and holy though it may be, is not so large and noble and useful as
the life of him and her who with duty for a watchword and purity of
heart for an armor and the word of God for a sword go forth to battle
with sin wherever his horrid form may be seen.
But thanks to the priceless inheritance of a strong, healthy body,
preserved by temperance in diet, serenity of mind, and abundance of
labor in the open air close to the heart of God, mine old age hath not
yet become a reproach to me. Still, like the Preacher, I feel it will
not be many days ere the keepers of the house shall tremble, the
grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the
windows be darkened. I have endeavored always to bear victory and
defeat, joy and sadness, with evenness of spirit. I have not complained
overmuch here and surely when the silver cord is loosed for me or the
golden bowl be broken and I meet Him face to face in the boundless
fields of eternity, I know naught but bliss will be mine; and yet with
my poor earthly sight and understanding, I shall long to meet there and
be with them for evermore, father, mother, the Brothers and Sisters of
the Kloster, Sonnlein and his beloved Genoveva and their dear children;
but dearer than all these I want again to clasp to my breast the sweet
flower cut off while still in its budding, my Bernice.
[Illustration]
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Transcribers Note:
Obvious printer errors corrected.
Spelling "house-father" and "housefather" retained.
Spelling "penwork" and "pen-work" retained.
Spelling "gully" and "gulley" retained.
Spelling "ice-bound" and "icebound" retained.
Spelling "subtilely", "subtility", and "subtilty" retained.
Spelling "wrapt" and "wrapped" retained.