Chapter V: Part 5

Not long after the visit of Zinzendorf, or about 1745, occurred the deposition of Eckerlin, the prior Onesimus. In one of his letters, Miller says (1790), “Remember, we have lost our first prior and the sisters their first mother ... because they stood in self-elevation, and did govern despotically;” and adds, “the desire to govern is the last thing which dies within a man.” (It seems probable that Eckerlin has not received sufficient credit, however, for the pecuniary success of the infant community.)

Some ten years after his deposition (or in 1755), began the old French and Indian war. Fahnestock tells us that the doors of the cloister, including the chapels, etc., were opened as a refuge for the inhabitants of Tulpehocken and Paxton[74] settlements, which were then the frontiers, to protect the people from the incursions of the hostile Indians. He adds that all these refugees were received and kept by the society during the period of alarm and danger. Upon hearing of which, a company of infantry was despatched by the royal government from Philadelphia to protect Ephrata.[75]

But why, we might ask, did these people seek refuge in a communion of non-combatants? The question bears on the controversy, as to whether the men of peace or the men of war were nearer right in their dealings with the savages.[76]

Beissel died in the year 1768, or about thirty years after the establishment of the cloister. Upon his tombstone was placed, in German, this inscription:

“Here rests a Birth of the love of God, Peaceful, a Solitary, but who afterward became a Superintendent of the Solitary Community of Christ in and around Ephrata: born in Oberbach in the Palatinate, and named Conrad Beissel.”

“He fell asleep the 6th of July, A.D. 1768: of his spiritual life 52, but of his natural one, 77 years and 4 months.”

Endress says, “He appears to me to have been a man possessed of a considerable degree of the spirit of rule; his mind bent from the beginning upon the acquirement of authority, power, and ascendency.” For ourselves, we have just seen how he received Count Zinzendorf, who had crossed the ocean, and come, as it were, to his threshold.

Mr. Endress further says, “Beissel, good or bad, lived and died the master-spirit of the brotherhood. With him it sank into decay.”

The British officer who wrote in 1786 (?), eighteen years after Beissel’s death, gives the number of the celibates as seven men and five women. I do not consider him good authority; but if the numbers were so much reduced from those of 1740, it seems probable that they had begun to decline before the decease of Beissel.[77]

Eighteen years after Beissel’s death, was published at Ephrata the Chronicle of which I have so often spoken, giving an account of his life. He was succeeded by Peter Miller. Miller was sixty-five years old when our Revolutionary war broke out, and had been the leader at Ephrata seven years.

Fahnestock says that after the battle of Brandywine “the whole establishment was opened to receive the wounded Americans, great numbers of whom (Rupp says four or five hundred) were brought here in wagons a distance of more than forty miles, and one hundred and fifty of whom died and are buried on Mount Zion.”[78]

It is also narrated that before the battle of Germantown a quantity of unbound books were seized at Ephrata by some of our soldiers, in order to make cartridges. “An embargo,” says Miller, “was laid on all our printed paper, so that for a time we could not sell any printed book.”

A story has appeared in print, and not always in the same manner, about Miller’s going to General Washington and receiving from him a pardon for his old enemy Widman, who was condemned to die.

This story Mr. Rupp thinks is based upon tradition; one version has been told in a glowing manner, and is attributed to Dr. Fahnestock. It runs thus: On the breaking out of the Revolution, committees of safety were formed in different districts to support our cause. At the head of the Lancaster County Committee was Michael Widman, who kept a public house, and who had been a vestryman in the Reformed Church. This church Miller had left when he joined the Baptists. He persecuted Miller to a shameful extent, even spitting in his face when he met him.

Widman was at first bold and active in the cause of independence, but he became discouraged, and resolved to go to Philadelphia and conciliate General Howe, the British commander, who then held that city. Howe, however, declined his services,[79] but gave orders to see him safely beyond the British outposts. His treasonable intentions having become known to the Americans, he was arrested and taken to the nearest block-house, at the Turk’s Head, now West Chester; was tried by court-martial, and sentenced to be hung. Peter Miller, hearing of his arrest, went to General Washington and pleaded for mercy towards him. The general answered that the state of public affairs was such as to make it necessary that renegades should suffer, “otherwise I should most cheerfully release your friend.”

“Friend!” exclaimed Miller: “he is my worst enemy,—my incessant reviler.”[80]

Said the general, “My dear friend, I thank you for this example of Christian charity!” and he granted Miller’s petition.

It is not necessary for me to go further, and describe the scene of Miller’s arriving upon the ground with the pardon just as Widman was to be hung, nor the subsequent proceedings there, for I am quite sure that they did not take place. Evidence to this effect is found in the Pennsylvania Archives, vol. ix., where Peter Miller writes to Secretary Matlack, interceding (apparently) for a man named Rein. Miller says, “I have thought his case was similar to Michael Wittman’s, who received pardon without a previous trial.”

The secretary replies (1781), “Witman did not receive a pardon previous to a surrender.”

Thus it seems that the story of Widman’s trial by court-martial is also wrong. That his property was confiscated, as I was lately told at Ephrata, I have no reason to doubt, as the Colonial Records, vol. xii., show that in council, in 1779, it was resolved that the agents for forfeited estates should sell that of Michael Wittman, subject to a certain claim.[81]

At Ephrata, during the past winter, I stood in the loft of the brother-house beside a great chimney of wood and clay, and was told that here Widman had been hidden. Whether he actually concealed himself in the brother-house, as has been narrated, I do not find that history declares.

At a subsequent date, 1783, we find in the Pennsylvania Archives, vol. ix., that Miller intercedes for certain Mennonites who had been fined for not apprehending British deserters; the Mennonites not being permitted by their principles to do so. Does this mean deserters from ourselves to the British,—who were, as deserters, liable to the punishment of death? a punishment which the Mennonites, as non-resistants, could not inflict.

Certain letters of Peter Miller, published in Hazard’s Register, and of which I have made considerable use, were written at an advanced age,—eighty or thereabout. He says in one of them (December, 1790), “Age, infirmity, and defect in sight are causes that the letter wants more perspicuity, for which I beg pardon.”

He died about six years after, having lived some sixty years a member of the community at Ephrata. Upon his tombstone was placed this inscription in German:

“Here lies buried Peter Miller, born in Oberampt Lautern, in the Palatinate (Chur-Pfalz); came as a Reformed preacher to America in the year 1730; was baptized by the Community at Ephrata in the year 1735, and named Brother Jaebez; also he was afterward a preacher (_Lehrer_) until his end. He fell asleep the 25th of September, 1796, at the age of eighty-six years and nine months.”

In the plain upon the banks of the Cocalico still stand the brother- and sister-houses (although not the buildings first erected). But the society is feeble in numbers, and the buildings are going to decay. They are still, however, occupied, or partly so. I found several women living here in 1872. Some of these were never married, but the majority are widows; and not all of them members of the Baptist congregation. Nor are the voices of children wanting.

The last celibate brother died some forty years ago. One, indeed, has been here since, but, as I was told, “he did not like it,” and went to the more flourishing community of Snow Hill, in Franklin County.

The little Ephrata association (which still owns a farm), instead of supporting its unmarried members, now furnishes to them only house-rent, fuel, and flour. The printing-press long since ceased from its labors, and many of the other industrial pursuits have declined.

No longer do the unmarried or celibate members own all the property, but it is now vested in all who belong to the meeting, single and married, and is in the hands of trustees. The income is, I presume, but small.

The unmarried members wear our usual dress, and none are strictly recluse.

Formerly a large room or chapel was connected with the brother-house. It was furnished with galleries, where sat the sisters, while the brethren occupied the floor below. (This building, I am told, is not standing.) In the smaller room or chapel (_saal_) connected with the sister-house, about twenty people now meet on the Seventh day for public worship. But among all these changes the German language still remains! All the services that I heard, while attending here in February of 1872, were in that tongue, except two hymns at the close. We must not suppose that this language is employed because the members are natives of Germany. One or two may be, but the preacher’s father or grandfather came to this country when a boy.

Around the meeting-room are hung charts or sheets of grayish paper, containing German verses in ornamental writing, the ancient labors of the celibates, or perhaps of the sisters alone. One small chart here is said to represent the three heavens, and to contain three hundred figures in Capuchin dress, with harps in their hands, and two hundred archangels. Perhaps this and their celibate doctrine are drawn, at least in part, from the opening of chapter xiv. of the book called the Revelation of John.

But for these old labors in pen and ink, the chapel is as plain as a Quaker meeting-house. It is kept beautifully clean.[82] Opening out of it is a kitchen, furnished with the apparatus for cooking and serving the simple repasts of the love-feasts. Among these Baptists, love-feasts are held not only, as I understand, in a similar manner to the other Dunkers, but upon funeral occasions,—a short period after the interment of a brother or sister. Rupp speaks of their eating lamb and mutton at their paschal feasts. In the old monastic time, it was only at love-feasts that the celibate brothers and sisters met.

Here I was shown a wooden goblet made by the brethren for the Communion. It has been said that they preferred to use such, even after more costly ones had been given to them.

After attending the religions services in the chapel, three or four of us—strangers—were supplied with dinner in the brother-house, at a neat and well-filled table.[83]

I afterward sat for an hour in the neat and comfortable apartment of Sister Sarah in the sister-house. Here she has lived twenty-two years, and, though now much advanced in life, has not that appearance. She seemed lovely, and, I was told, had not been unsought. One of her brothers has been thirty-three years at the Snow Hill community.

Sister Sarah produced for me a white cotton over-dress, such as was formerly worn by the sisters. It was a cap or cowl, with long pieces hanging down in front and behind nearly to the feet; and, if I remember it right, not of the pattern described in the Chronicle. But fashions change in fifty to a hundred years.

She also showed me some verses recently written by one of the brethren at Snow Hill. They were in German, of which I offer an unrhymed version:

“Oh divine life, ornament of virginity!
How art thou despised by all men here below!
And yet art a branch from the heavenly throne,
And borne by the virgin Son of God.”

I was surprised to find such prominence given to the idea of the merits of celibacy, for I had not then seen the _Chronicon Ephratense_.

One object which especially attracted my attention was an upright clock, which stood in the room of Sister Sarah, and which was kept in very good order. It was somewhat smaller than the high clocks that were common forty or fifty years ago.

All that I heard of its history was that it had come from Germany. It had four weights suspended on chains. Above the dial-plate hovered two little angels, apparently made of lead, one on either side of a small disk, which bore the inscription “Hoeckers a Creveld,”—as I interpret, made by the Hoeckers at Crefeld. Crefeld,—historic town! Here then was a relic of it, and standing quite disregarded,—it was only an old German clock!

When the Dunkers were persecuted in Europe, soon after their establishment, some of them took refuge in Crefeld, in the duchy of Cleves; and I have lately read that in Crefeld, Mühlheim, etc., William Penn and others gained adherents to the doctrine of the Quakers.[84]

We also find in the American Cyclopædia that at Crefeld (Ger. _Krefeld_), a colony of Huguenot refugees in the seventeenth century introduced the manufacture of silk—Dunkers and Quakers; perhaps also Huguenots fleeing from France when Louis XIV. revoked that edict of Nantes which had so long protected them. (Crefeld is now in Rhenish Prussia.)

Who were the Hoeckers, or who was the Hoecker that made this old clock?[85] Who bought it in historic Crefeld? Who brought it from Europe, got it up into Lancaster County, and lodged it in the monastery or nunnery at Ephrata? What, if anything, had Ludwig Hoecker or Brother Obed to do with it—he who taught the early Sabbath-school? What tales could it not tell! But it is well cared for in the comfortable apartment of the kindly sister.

The Snow Hill settlement, I presume, is named from the family of Snowberger,[86] one of whom endowed the society. It is situated on the Antietam, in Franklin County, Pennsylvania; where a large farm belongs to “the nunnery” (an expression that I heard at Ephrata). There were, until lately, five sisters and four brothers at Antietam, but one of the brethren has died.

The brethren have sufficient occupation in taking care of their property; the sisters keep house, eating in the same apartment at the same time with the brothers. Under these circumstances I could imagine the comfort and order of the establishment, and think of the brothers and sisters meeting in a cool and shaded dining-room. What question then should I be likely to ask? This one: “Do they never marry?”

I was told that marriages of the brothers and sisters (celibates) are not unknown; but I also understood that such a thing is considered backsliding. Persons thus married remain members of the church, but must leave the community, and find support elsewhere.[87]

In an article by Redmond Conyngham (Hazard’s Register, vol. v.) will be found the statement that the “President of the Dunkers” says, “We deny eternal punishment; those souls who become sensible of God’s great goodness and clemency, and acknowledge his lawful authority, ... and that Christ is the only true Son of God, are received into happiness; but those who continue obstinate are kept in darkness until the great day, when light will make all happy.” According to Dr. Fahnestock, however, the idea of a universal restoration, which existed in the early days, is not now publicly taught.

The observance of the Seventh day as a sabbath must always be onerous, in a community like ours. Hired people are not required by the Siebentaeger (or Seventh-Day men) to work on Saturday; and, unless of their own persuasion, will not work on Sunday.

It has been said that the customs at Ephrata resembled the Judaic ones; and Endress says that they consider baptism similar to purification in the Mosaic law,—as a rite which may be repeated from time to time when the believer has become defiled by the world, and would again renew his union with Christ. But Miller says (1790), “Our standard is the New Testament.”[88]

Fahnestock says that they do not approve of paying their ministers; and it seems that the women, or at least the single sisters, are at liberty to speak in religious meetings.

In the correspondence of one of our Lancaster papers of 1871, there was given the following account: “Ephrata, May 21.—The Society of the Seventh-Day Baptists held their semi-annual love-feast yesterday, when one new member was added to the society by immersion. In the evening the solemn feast of the Lord’s Supper was celebrated, the occasion attracting a large concourse of people,—only about half of whom could obtain seats. The conduct of a number of persons on the outside was a disgrace to an intelligent community.”

The article also mentions preachers as present from Bedford, Franklin, and Somerset Counties. However, the whole number of the Seventh-Day German Baptists, in our State, is very small.

* * * * *

The foregoing article is published nearly as it appeared in the second edition of this volume. In the present year, 1882, Mr. Adam Konigmacher Fahnestock, of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, has lent me a little memorial which he had prepared of his own family. A passage in it seems to elucidate the history of the clock at Ephrata, which bears on its face “Hoeckers a Creveld.” On St. John’s day, November 13, 1753, Diedrich Fanestuck writes to his brother in Prussia. (The letter is said to have been written near Ephrata.) He writes that his son, who is going to Europe, will stop at Crefeld, “where he is to have some clocks made for us.” He adds, “I pray you to write again. You may send the letters to Crefeld, there are three brothers living there, Wilhelmus, Christophorus, and Lucas Heckers, to them you might send them.”

In a foot-note A. K. Fahnestock says, 1878, October 17: “I had the pleasure this day of seeing one of those clocks (seven feet high), still showing the time of day. It is in the ‘sister-house’ at Ephrata.” (The preposition a on the clock, Hoeckers a Creveld, would seem to indicate that this Hoeckers were French refugees. Perhaps with a translated name.)

* * * * *

In this year, 1882, the writer of this volume again visited Ephrata. One of her acquaintance spoke to her of the community at Snow Hill, on the Antietam. She said, “It’s a large nunnery, and the rooms are all empty; there’s hardly any one there.” She added, however, that there are a good many married Seventh-Day Baptists at Snow Hill.

The old buildings at Ephrata, the brother- and sister-house, are still kept in sufficient repair to make inmates comfortable, and are occupied by unmarried women, widows, and families; not all Seventh-Day Baptists. The farm belonging to the Baptists contains about eighty acres.

As I drew near one of these buildings on Sunday, I saw washed clothes hanging out. Saturday is the Sabbath of these Baptists, and like the rest of the world it appears that such begin their week with washing.

The little community at the time of my visit was grievously exercised over a lawsuit among the members. The matter had been referred to a master in chancery, who thus speaks of them in his report: “At the time of the commencement of the differences from which has sprung the present controversy, and for some years previously, the members of the society in regular attendance at its meetings, and habitually observant of its religious ordinances, were in number about thirty, of whom not less than three-fourths appear to have been women. They seem to be an uneducated or but slightly educated people, in narrow circumstances as to property, the male members being in general mechanics and laboring men, resident in and about the village of Ephrata, in this county, and a considerable proportion of all the members, male as well as female, being dependent for subsistence either wholly or partially upon the funds of the society. They do not appear to have formulated specifically articles of faith or rules of discipline, but profess to take for their guidance simply the Bible and New Testament, and the distinctive features of their practice are, their observance of the seventh day of the week instead of the first as the Sabbath; the administration of the rite of baptism by trine immersion, with forward action, in a stream of flowing water; and by the love-feasts held annually at their communion, and lasting from Friday evening until Sunday morning, at which food is provided for all members, as well as all strangers who may choose to attend the meeting; and by the washing of each other’s feet by the members, previously to the breaking of bread at the communion.... The church at Ephrata, it should be mentioned, is one of four branches, as they are called, of the society of [German?] Seventh-Day Baptists. The other three being established, respectively, at Snow Hill, Bedford, and Alleghany, in this State.”

BETHLEHEM AND THE MORAVIANS.

On August 22, 1873, as I stood upon the tower of Packer Hall, Lehigh University, I saw spread out before me the whole of Bethlehem, with furnaces, railroads, bridges, churches, schools; and the rolling country and cultivated fields of Northampton and Lehigh Counties. Pointing to a wooded hill, my little guide said, “That is Iron Hill, where iron ore comes from.”[89]

In the first house built at Bethlehem, on the 24th of December, 1741, Zinzendorf and his companions celebrated their first Christmas Eve in America. I saw in the town a picture, by Grünewald, of the house in which they met,—a long, one-story log house, with overhanging eaves, the unbroken forest behind admirably expressing the loneliness of the situation. In the beginning, one end of this building was for cattle, as in Switzerland and other parts of South Germany.

When this first house was newly erected, Zinzendorf visited it, and on Christmas Eve he went with others into the stable and sang,—

“Nicht aus Jerusalem, sondern Bethlehem
Aus dem kommt, was mir frommt.”

or, in prose,

“That which is profitable to me comes not from Jerusalem, but
from Bethlehem,”—

and thus the new-born _town_ was named Bethlehem.

“The material treasures of the Lehigh valley,” says a Moravian bishop, “the national rage of hastening to be rich, will, I fear, too much overgrow the spiritual interests of the people.”

Since Zinzendorf entered the log cabin of Bethlehem one hundred and thirty years have passed by, and four or five generations of mortal men. Other changes too have befallen the Moravians. For twenty years they lived in an _economie_, or associated like one family. That strict rule, which afterwards kept the unmarried in brother- and sister-houses, has since been annulled, and no vestige of it remains here but in the custom of sitting in church, the brethren on one side, and the sisters on the other. And this is not universal: families sit together.

In like manner has disappeared here the custom of appealing to the lot, which formerly prevailed even in matters so solemn as marriage.[90]

The plainness of apparel which distinguished the Moravians has disappeared also. Once even the young ladies who studied at the boarding-school were obliged to wear the peculiar Moravian dress.

In the Historical Collection at Nazareth are preserved thick muslin caps, such as the women once wore, with peculiar pieces, like a scallop shell, to cover the ears. Those tasteful little caps now worn by the young women in the choir, and the neat ones worn by the sisters who serve at the love-feasts, can scarcely keep up the memory of those of olden time.

Once the Moravians did not take oaths, but obeyed literally the command, “Swear not at all;” but now judicial oaths are permitted.

Formerly, the bulk of the real estate belonged to the church, and none could buy who were not members; but this rule has been broken, and _foreigners_ have been allowed to buy land in Bethlehem and other Moravian towns.[91]

One trait, which has hitherto remarkably distinguished them, still exists, namely, a great missionary zeal. In 1873 a gentleman gave the numbers of the Moravians at seventy thousand baptized missionary converts, to twenty-three thousand home members in Europe and America. On this estimate the missionary converts are more than three to each of the members in the other lands.[92]

At Bethlehem a considerable landed estate belongs to the Church, whence is drawn an income of about eighteen thousand dollars. All the institutions of learning here, including the Young Ladies’ Boarding-School, belong to the Church, and the teachers are its salaried officers.

The different provinces of the Church, the American, English, and German, are like separate States of our Union, their general head meeting or residing in Saxony. This general synod still, in some respects, gives rules to our Pennsylvania Moravians; and one of the bishops says that the Moravian is the only Protestant Church which is a unity throughout the world.

FESTIVALS.

My first visit to Bethlehem occurred at Whitsuntide,—Whitsunday or Pentecost falling upon June 1. As early as half-past seven there was music from the steeple of the large Moravian church, from a choir of trombone players. This instrument, which is of the trumpet kind, is much in use among the Moravians for church music,[93] the choir generally consisting of four pieces.

In the morning I went to the large church, in which English services are held. In this church there were no pews, or rather, there were “open pews” without doors. Soon after the opening of the services, passages of Scripture were read alternately, a verse by the preacher, and one by the congregation. Afterwards the Apostles’ Creed was repeated in concert. Also a litany was read; for the Moravians, if in some things they resembled Quakers, were very far from them in discarding outward forms.[94]

There was in the morning no public extemporaneous prayer, nor any prayer in the printed service, except the litanies.

Notice was given that the anniversary of the Female Missionary Society would be celebrated in the afternoon by a love-feast, and that the Communion would be held in the afternoon in the German language, and in the evening in the English.

The love-feasts of the church, which are numerous,—fifteen in the course of the year,—are religious meetings accompanied by a simple refection of coffee, and rusks or buns. They are founded, it seems, upon a passage in Jude, and are intended to set forth by a simple meal, of which all partake in common, that there is no respect of persons before the Lord.

The religious services upon the present occasion consisted of singing and prayer, and some remarks were made by a gentleman who had formerly been a missionary in Jamaica. In a calm manner, mothers were urged to devote their children to the missionary service, rather than to active business (worldly) employments.

The love-feast coffee is celebrated. As it was brought in, diffusing its odor through the church, there was singing in the German language. It was handed in white mugs by one of the brethren, and the rusks, which were light and good, were presented in a basket by a sister.

After the address was over, neatly dressed sisters, as well as brethren, passed among the congregation and collected the coffee mugs upon wooden trays.[95]

* * * * *

In a manner similar to this just described, the Moravians celebrate upon the 25th of June the anniversary of the founding of Bethlehem.

* * * * *

The services on Easter morning are described in a familiar manner by Mr. Grider, in his “Historical Notes on Music in Bethlehem.”[96]

About three in the morning the band of trombone players begins to pass through the streets, to awaken the members of the congregation. The spacious church is usually filled at an early hour, and the Easter morning litany, which embraces the creed of the Church, is repeated. At the passage, “Glory unto him, who is the resurrection and the life,” the minister announces that the rest of the litany will be repeated on the burial-ground. A procession is formed, and it is so timed that as it enters the grounds it is met by the glorious beams of the rising sun, an emblem of resurrection.

The services are continued in the open air, the singing being led by the instrumental performers. It is said that on a fair morning “about two thousand persons usually attend this really grand and impressive service;” the grounds, which are always kept neat, being especially attended to before Easter.[97] Their first service on Easter Sunday took place at Herrnhut, Saxony, in the year 1732. The “Young Men’s Class” repaired before dawn to the graveyard, and spent an hour and a half in singing and prayer.[98]

The same manner of observing Easter seems to be world-wide. From the Mission Report, we learn that Brother A. Gericke, writing from Fredericksthal, Greenland, says, “At Easter it was so beautifully mild that we could read the Church litany, according to the custom at home, in the burial-ground.”

* * * * *

The celebration of Christmas Eve is spoken of by Mr. Grider, who says, “The services last about two hours, during which the Rev. J. F. F. Hagen’s ‘Morning Star, the darkness break!’ is sung alternately by the choir in the gallery and the children in the body of the church. This anthem,” he says, “although simple, and intended for children only, has taken deep root in the hearts of the congregation, who seem never to tire of its performance.”

Other musical compositions are performed, such as,—

“For unto us a child is born” (_Handel_).
“Sey willkommen” (Welcome) (_Haydn_).
“Lift up your heads, O ye gates!” (_Handel_).
“Gloria,” 12th Mass (_Mozart_).

Mr. G. tells us that at this time the church choir numbers sixteen female and eight male singers. The accompaniment consists of the organ, two first and two second violins, viola, violoncello, double bass, two French horns, two trumpets, trombone, and flute. This is certainly a remarkable variety of instruments in a church choir.

* * * * *

A lady of Nazareth tells me that Christmas Eve is celebrated among the Moravians by a love-feast in the church. After the cakes and coffee, little wax-candles, lighted, are brought in upon trays, and distributed to the children, while verses are sung. “This,” says she, “is to give them an impression of the Sun of Righteousness.” The following lines were sung for several years (and may still be in use):

“Geh’ auf mit hellem Schein,
Und leucht ins Herz hinein,
Leucht über Gross und Klein!
Du Sonne der Gerechtigkeit!
Verbreite Wonn’ und Seligkeit,
Und flamme jedermann
Yetzt und fortan
Zu brünst’ger Liebe an.”

Of which I offer the following version:

“Rise with clear lustre,
And shine within the heart,
Shine over great and small,
Thou Sun of Righteousness!
Spread joy and blessedness!
And kindle every one,
Henceforth as well as now,
To warmest love.”

A lady of Bethlehem says that the Moravians there follow the German fashion, not of having a Christmas-tree merely, but a _Putz_, or decoration; in which they usually represent a manger with cattle, the infant Jesus and his mother, and the three wise men. At the young ladies’ seminary she says that the _Putzes_ are often very fine. The people go around to see the decorations. Christmas is a great festival.

* * * * *

The New Year is thus celebrated. At half-past eleven, on New Year’s Eve, the congregation assemble for “watch meeting.” I condense Mr. Grider’s description: “After the officiating minister enters, the choir sing Bishop Gregor’s solemn composition, ‘Lord, Lord God,’ and then the congregation sing; after which the text for that day is read from the Text-Book, and is the subject of the discourse which follows. Meanwhile the musicians in the choir watch the progress of the night, and assemble before the organ; and the organist sits with his feet poised, ready to begin. When the year expires, the new one is welcomed by a loud crash of melody from the organ, and a double choir of trombone players. The congregation rise and join in singing, followed by prayer, etc.” These services are always largely attended.

I have just spoken of the text for the day. A friend says, “These texts for the day are published in a little annual volume, ‘Doctrinal Texts of the Unitas Fratrum,’ prepared in Saxony and sent to the Moravians the world over,—in Africa, Asia, Australia, and America. The first text is selected by lot, the remainder by a committee at Herrnhut. This is a relic of the old times, when the Moravians used the lot in many religious ceremonies,—even in marriage.”

Another says, “The Text-Book consists of a selection of verses from the Bible, for each day, with appropriate collects taken from the Hymn-Book. It has been issued since 1731. The first verse, or ‘daily word,’ contains a short sentence of prayer, exhortation, or promise. The second, or ‘doctrinal text,’ is intended to enforce some doctrinal truth or practical duty. The Text-Book is printed in English, German, French, Dutch, Swedish, Danish, Esquimaux, and in the Negro-English of Surinam, S. A.”

Birthdays were formerly celebrated among the Moravians, and still are in some families, as a citizen of Bethlehem tells me, by little home parties, called _vespers_, where the friends of the family are bidden between two and three P.M., and where they partake of coffee and sugar-cake; a cake used not only among the Moravians here, but by the people of Northern Germany. Birthdays were formerly celebrated by serenades. Record was also kept of the birthdays of friends, of distinguished members of the church, etc.

The Birthday-Book and Text-Book, says Mr. Grider, were placed on the breakfast-table each morning. After the text was read, and while the family were being served, the record was generally consulted to see whose birthday it was. This custom served as a bond which held the inhabitants in social union.[99]

When a death occurs in the Moravian congregation at Bethlehem, the choir of trombonists plays several tunes from the steeple of the large church. Any Moravian can tell from the tunes played to which choir or band the deceased belonged, whether to the married men’s or married women’s, to the young men’s or young women’s, to the children’s, or to any other of the bands into which the congregation is divided,—divisions which were formerly of more importance than now.

At funerals the same choir of trombones heads the procession.

THE GRAVEYARD.

Walking in the street at Bethlehem, I saw a large, shaded, and grassy enclosure with seats in it, and a number of girls and children, children’s carriages, etc. I said to a working man, “What do you call this,—a square?”

It was the graveyard or old burial-place, but there were no monuments visible, from the Moravian custom of laying stones, called breast-stones, flat upon spots of interment.

If you enter this yard from the northwest corner, from Market Street, you come immediately upon the graves of three bishops, in no way more conspicuous than the others which bear breast-stones. One says, “Johannes Etwein, Episcopus Fratrum (or Bishop of the Brethren); born June 29th, 1721, at Freudenstadt in Germany, departed Jan. 2d, 1802.

“Here he rests in peace.”

The graves of the Indians and negroes, who were buried here, are not in an especial corner or division, but are indiscriminately mingled with those of the other Moravians. But on the outer edge are buried some persons of disreputable life.

One stone bears the following inscription:

“In memory of Tschoop, a Mohican Indian, who in holy baptism, Ap. 16, 1742, received the name of John: one of the first fruits of the mission at Shekomeko, N.Y., and a remarkable instance of the power of Divine Grace, whereby he became a distinguished teacher among his nation. He departed this life in full assurance of faith at Bethlehem, Aug. 27, 1746.

“There shall be one fold, and one Shepherd.—John x. 6.”

About sixty-two Indians are buried here. A daughter of Heckewelder (the distinguished missionary) furnished new gravestones for some of these Indian remains.

The largest stone in the enclosure rests upon the grave of one of mixed blood, not a Moravian, and I may be allowed to give a portion of the inscription as it is:

“In Memory to my dearest Son, James McDonald Ross, eldest son of John Ross, principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation ... died in St. Louis, Nov. 9th, 1864. His Corps transported by Adams Express to Bethlehem, and interred at this sacred spot Nov. 22d, 1864, aged 50 years 29 days.”

One of the stones bears the name Traugott Leinbach, which may be translated Trust-God Flaxbrook, but which does not seem peculiar to those familiar with it.

At some of the graves there were bright, freshly-cut flowers.

At Nazareth I visited an enclosure which had once been a graveyard, but which had been neglected, and the stones in it had been moved by one who had become owner. This neglect has lately been atoned for by erecting a monument inscribed with the names of those buried here. The list was obtained by consulting the full and accurate accounts, which it is the duty of all Moravian ministers to keep. In looking at the names on the monument, I observed one Beata, an Indian, who died in 1746, and two others, Beatus Schultz and Beata Böhmer. These were names assigned to infants dead before christening; Beatus, Beata, meaning Blessed.

OLD RECOLLECTIONS.

I met, at Bethlehem, a member of the Moravian Historical Society, who was born in that town in 1796, and was educated there. He was taught German, and could scarcely speak English at all at eighteen.

He learned his trade as clock- and watch-maker in the brethren’s house. He was also employed until lately as teacher of vocal music in the parochial school.

When he was in the brethren’s house—he began to learn his trade in 1810—there were about twenty brethren domiciled there,—though some of these had their shops elsewhere. They were all mechanics; there being a baker, shoemaker, tinsmith, etc. The cook was also an unmarried brother, all these household services being performed by the brethren themselves. My informant (he was the youngest boy) had to prepare breakfast for his employer.

When the morning bell sounded aloud (_Morgen Glocke zum Aufstehen_) the boys sprang up, and when one story down, went into the prayer-hall, where the _vorsteher_ or superintendent directed the services; first they “sang a verse,” and then the _vorsteher_ read the text for the day. When the boys got down to the lower floor (the four boys who then lodged in the building), they swept out the rooms that were used for shops, ground their coffee, ran down to the cook in the cellar-kitchen and set their pots upon the coals, preparing a simple breakfast of bread, butter, and coffee, of which each boy partook with his employer in the shop. Then they made their cot-beds or threw the blankets back upon them; the brethren made their own.

Mr. W.’s mother did not admire her son’s manner of performing these domestic services. When she came down to bring fresh bedclothes and to look after matters, she said, “If I had wax, I’d take a mould of your body here from your bed.” “Why, what a crust you have inside of your coffee-pot!”

Breakfast, in Mr. W.’s time, was thus eaten separately, but before that, when all the property was in common, “_eine economische Haushaltung_,” or economical household,—“every one was poor in that early day,”—all the meals were eaten at a common table.

* * * * *

After breakfast, the boys washed the dishes and went to their work.

At a quarter before twelve the chapel bell rang for dinner, a custom which continued until about 1870. “I missed it,” said Mr. W., “when it stopped, for I had heard it all my life.”[100]

I inquired of Mr. W. whether they kept their time a half-hour or more ahead, like other Pennsylvania Germans. He replied that one of the brethren kept his clock by the sun-dial.

Mr. W. did not dine or sup at the brother-house, but went home for these meals. At the age of twelve, according to the usual custom, he left the children’s choir, and became a member of the great boys’ choir. The little boys and girls held their festivals together.

At eighteen he joined the young men’s choir. About this time the brethren’s house was given up to the female seminary or boarding-school, and the few remaining brethren scattered through the town.[101]

There had been little or no intercourse between these unmarried brethren and the sisters, but some staid, elderly sister was appointed to visit the brother-house and see whether all the surroundings were clean.

* * * * *

“I remember,” Mr. ⸺ said, “when marriages were made by lot, but that drove off a great many of the young people. The marriage by lot was more suited to missionaries who had not time for a two years’ courtship. Dr. Franklin, when in Bethlehem, asked Bishop Spangenberg whether this practice did not make unhappy marriages, but the bishop replied, ‘Are all marriages happy that are made after long courtship?’ We did not have divorces, anyhow,” said Mr. W.[102]

This was the manner of the marriage by lot.

If a young missionary came home, and met his friends, they would say, “Well, you’ve come home to get married?”

He would answer, “Yes; do you know of any one suitable?”

“Yes; there’s Sister Gretchen” (or Peggy).

Another might say, “There’s Sister Liddy;” and thus a half-dozen names would perhaps be gathered. He had the privilege of arranging the order of this list himself. Then, after prayer, the elders drew lots, taking the first name; one ballot being _Ja_ and the other _Nein_ (Yes and No).

The idea was of an especial Providence, by which he should find out whether it was the Lord’s will that he should have the first. If the first lot should prove _Ja_, the result was communicated to the sister, and time was allowed her to reflect whether to accept or refuse.

In the course of our conversation, Mr. W. rose and went into the next room; and, returning, brought two vest-buttons of crystal, set in silver, of which he gave the following account:

“My grandfather was a clothmaker, at Basle, in Switzerland. Zinzendorf being there[103] called upon the young man, who was about leaving for America, to join the Bethlehem and Nazareth settlements.

“Zinzendorf said to him, ‘Matthias, we won’t meet any more in this world, but hope to meet in a better.’ He put his hand into his vest-pocket, and said, ‘I’m sorry I have nothing to leave you to remember me by.’

“Young Matthias answered, striking his breast, ‘As long as this heart shall beat, I’ll not forget you.’

“With a glance, Zinzendorf seized the shears from the clothmaker’s table, and quickly cut off two of his vest-buttons. ‘Take these,’ he said, ‘they’re nearest the heart.’”

It was the grandson of the clothmaker, himself a great-grandfather, who narrated the story, which he had received traditionally.

“I think,” said he, “that this exhibits the quickness of thought of Count Zinzendorf. He was a great recruiting sergeant. On meeting a young man whom he took a fancy to, he would say, ‘I have a place for you; I want you to go to Greenland, or (perhaps) to the Cape of Good Hope.’ The young man, astonished, would wonder what this conspicuous nobleman meant by this. He generally succeeded, however, in charming the young man, and the matter ended by his going upon the mission.”

* * * * *

A few recollections of old times were also given to me by a citizen of Nazareth, aged eighty-two, whom I call Mr. P. He himself was born in Bethlehem, but his father in Connecticut; his grandfather having migrated and bought a farm at Gnadenhütten, a Moravian settlement, near Mauch Chunk.

Mr. P.’s mother was a Miksch. She was placed at the age of four years at the building at Nazareth, called Ephrata, to enable her mother to work.[104] She did not like the treatment that she received here. “Her mother worked in the house (her house), and in the field, I think,” said Mr. P. “The women now do not work much in the fields,” he added. “They’re afraid they might spoil their fingers. They’re brought up altogether too proud. I don’t know what will become of the next generation.

“My father moved to Bethlehem, and worked at his carpenter’s trade. When he was married he went to the ferry (at Bethlehem), and kept it for ten years. There were no bridges then. He saw hard times in cold weather and high water. After that he moved to the saw-mill and distillery, which belonged to the Moravian Society. I think he got all he made in the distillery, but worked for wages in the saw-mill.”

“The Moravians distilled liquor, then?” said I.

“Yes; they commonly drinked a little too, about nine o’clock.

“When I was between thirteen and fourteen, I went to my trade. I was put into the brothers’ house to sleep. My trade was a blacksmith’s, and a pretty hard one too. I served my trade seven years and seven months. When I was in the brother-house, I spent my evenings and Sundays there. I had liberty to go home to my parents, but not to be running, like they do nowadays, and do mischief.

“My wife was not a member of the church,—we were married fifty-five years ago. Brother Seidel, the Moravian preacher, married us. They were not so strict then as they had been, in turning all those out of meeting that married out.”

Mr. P. has a strong German accent. He said, “I never talked much English, only when I lived nine years and a half at Quakertown. I now speak German altogether in my family. The young people here now all try to speak English. They’re throwing the German away too much.”

* * * * *

At Nazareth, in 1874, I met Mr. M., eighty-six years old, who said that he was married in 1812. “I thought,” said he, “that my wife and I were the last couple married by lot; but I have heard that there was one since.”

Mr. M. said that the young men and women had some opportunity to see each other, for although the young men were not allowed to visit the young women at their own houses, yet they would sometimes meet in visiting; but they were not allowed to speak to each other more than “a couple of times.”

Mr. M. and I did not agree in sentiment with a Moravian woman who had told me that young men and young women were not allowed to keep company, and _they did not think about it_.

Sometimes there would be young persons attached to each other for a couple of years, and the lot being unfavorable, they would go away and leave the congregation. “Well, it was a pretty hard thing,” said the old man, “for a pair of young people who loved each other dearly to have the lot go against them.” He continued nearly thus: “There was one of the boys who was with me in the brother-house who, I think, left the congregation to be married to a member. It was generally the case, then, that after a couple of years they would ask pardon, and be taken back. We used to say, ‘You’ll have to take your hat under your arm and ask pardon.’”

Mr. M. told me, concerning the Moravians formerly, that the _verlobung_, or betrothal, lasted sometimes only about a week. “When I was married we had a kind of love-feast after the marriage. Some were picked out to stay, and we had wine or coffee and cake in the church. That was the old custom.”

I suggested to Mr. M. that as there were meetings held every evening the young people could see each other there. “There were meetings nearly every evening,” he answered. “I remember when I worked at my trade breaking off work and going to church. We went in our every-day clothes, just putting on our coats. Most every evening it was, when I was young. My trade was a blacksmith, and I was seven years an apprentice with my father. He was a pretty strict master, and I had to get up, winter or summer, at five o’clock, and now I wake at that hour although eighty-six.”

* * * * *

Recollections of a people would be imperfect without those of the women.

I saw at Nazareth Mrs. B., who was born at the Moravian town of Litiz, in Lancaster County, and who was in her eightieth year.

“When I was a child,” said she, “we had Christmas dialogues, about the birth of Christ, his sufferings and death, which were repeated by the children. The dialogues were in the school on Christmas-day, but were repeated several times, so that all might hear, and we never got tired of it.[105] Christmas-trees were put up then, as they are now. The Christmas _Putzes_ or decorations were left standing until after New Year.

“On Easter morning we meet in the church at five in the morning, and the first tune they sing is:

“‘Der Herr ist aufershtanden,
Er ist wahrhaftig aufershtanden,’[106]

“‘The Lord has arisen,
He has indeed arisen.’

“At a certain place where the litany speaks of those who are buried in the churchyard, and of their rising again, we walk out into the churchyard, and the trombone players accompany the hymns that are sung. If the weather is stormy that we cannot go out, this is always a disappointment.

“When I was young, if a child was born in the morning, it was taken to church in the evening to be christened. Religious meetings were held every evening; sometimes a prayer-meeting, sometimes a _sing-meeting_.

“I recollect marriages by lot very well, because they continued until about 1818. All marriages were by lot. Young men and young women were not allowed to keep company, and they did not think about it.”

“They hardly dared to look at each other,” said another person present.

Mrs. B. continued: “If a young man wanted to marry,—of course he had his eye on some one he would like,—he told it to the _Brüder-Pfleger_ (Caretaker of the Brothers), who told it to the minister, and the minister to the _Schwester-Pfleger_ (Caretaker of the Sisters). The name that the young man chose was taken into the lot, and if the lot was favorable he might proceed, but if not he must look out for another. If the lot was favorable it was told to the young woman by the _Schwester-Pfleger_, and if the young woman was willing this sister told the minister. There was a _Brüder-Pfleger_ in each brother-house, and a _Schwester-Pfleger_ in each sister-house.

“Betrothals took place after the young woman had given her consent, in the presence of the conference, composed of the ministers and their wives, and the marriage would generally take place within a week, in the church. The wedding was public, but those who were invited stayed to the _Schmaus_ (feast),[107] which was cake and wine in the church. Thus the ceremony was completed.

“Moravians then dressed with great plainness, much like the Quakers.”

As the Moravians were so very strict about the intercourse of the sexes, they could not have allowed two young men and two young women to sit up together with the unburied dead, as has been the custom among some of our Pennsylvania people.

I spoke upon this point to Mrs. B., who said, “Women always sat up with women, and men with men. However, in old times, as soon as there was a death, the trombones sounded, as they do now, and the body was taken when dressed, immediately to a small stone building called the corpse-house, and here remained until the funeral.”[108]

Mrs. ⸺ said that she lost her parents before she was three years old, and was taken into the sister-house, and her brothers into the brother-house. Even those who had parents living sometimes preferred to live in these buildings.

* * * * *

Some simple details of home-life were given to me by Mrs. C., of Bethlehem.

In their own family, in her youth, they rose about five, and breakfasted at six, usually on bread, butter, and coffee, perhaps with the addition of molasses. At nine they had a lunch of cold meat, pie, and bread and butter; and at a quarter before twelve came the dinner of meat and vegetables. Often they had soup. There was soup every day at the sister-house, and I was told that in cases of sickness it could be bought there.