At this period my parents, whilst on a journey, became acquainted with the educational establishment of the United Brethren, at Niesky, in Upper Lusatia,³ and they determined to place me and my younger brother there. My father spoke to me about the moral depravity which prevailed in most large schools, and the many dangerous yet very attractive acquaintances that I had formed, and, still more, the recollection which I retained of what I had heard, and what I had also in some measure experienced regarding the schools in Breslau, filled me in like manner with apprehensions, while, at the same time, the descriptions which were made of the innocent piety that reigned among the young people at Niesky, of the rural character of the whole institution, and of the wise mixture of instruction and amusement which prevailed there, prepossessed me very much in its favour; and I awaited with impatience the time appointed for our departure. But it was not so easy to obtain the necessary consent of the Directory;⁴ and even after they had expressed their willingness to receive us, our admission still depended upon chance. In the interval, until the matter could be settled, we remained at Gnadenfrei, and here were laid the germs of an imaginativeness in matters of religion which, had I been of a more ardent temperament, would probably have made me a visionary, but to which I am nevertheless indebted for many a precious experience, and which is the cause, that while in most people the disposition of the mind is formed unconsciously by theory and observation, in my case it bears the impress, and is the conscious product, of my own mental history. I had already sustained manifold internal religious conflicts. The doctrine of eternal punishment and reward had already exercised a disturbing power over my childish imagination, and in my eleventh year I spent several sleepless nights in consequence of not being able to come to a satisfactory conclusion concerning the mutual relation between the sufferings of Christ and the punishment for which these sufferings were a substitute.

Now commenced another struggle generated by the views held among the United Brethren relative to the doctrines of the natural corruption of man and of the supernatural means of grace, and the manner in which these doctrines were interwoven with every discourse and every lesson—a struggle which endured almost as long as I remained a member of the congregation. My own experience furnished me with abundant evidence in favour of the truth of the first of these two chief pillars of the ascetic-mystic system, and at length I came to look upon every good action as suspicious, or as resulting merely from the force of circumstances. I was thus in that state of torture, with producing which our reformers have so frequently been taunted: my belief in the innate moral faculty of man had been taken from me, and as yet nothing had been substituted in its stead. For in vain I aspired after those supernatural experiences, of the necessity of which every glance at myself with reference to the doctrine of future retribution convinced me—of the reality of which, externally to myself, every lesson and every hymn, yes, every glance at the Brethren, so attractive while under their influence, persuaded me. Yet me they seemed ever to flee, though at times I thought that I had seized a shadow of them at least; for I soon perceived that it was no more than the work of my own mind, the result of the fruitless straining of my imagination.

Vain were the endeavours of my excellent mother to reconcile her own more correct views of the two doctrines with that which I was taught on this head in the congregation, and to tranquillize my heart. That, being in this condition of mind, I should have formed a strong attachment to the Brethren’s congregation, and that I should have considered it a great misfortune to be refused membership, was but natural. I even formed the resolution that in case admission to the Pædagogium⁵ should be denied me, I would learn some honourable trade in the community, rather than enter, beyond its limits, that path of literary and scientific glory for which my master in Pless had inspired me with so much enthusiasm; and it was while reflecting on this resolve in all its greatness that I was tempted, for the first time, to look upon an impulsion of my own mind as being a supernatural effect.

In this state of mind I entered, in the year 1783, the Pædagogium at Niesky, and I shall always remember with pleasure the time which I spent there, and, subsequently, in the seminary at Barby. The method of instruction was certainly not the best that I am acquainted with, but it was the best that I had ever until then been subjected to; and the memory of one of the teachers there, more especially—he was a brother of Ober-Consistorialrath Hilmer—I shall ever gratefully revere. Though sickly in body, he was unremitting in industry and in his duty to his pupils; and to a truly philosophical mind he joined a most remarkable talent for teaching. His lectures on history were admirably adapted to cultivate and enrich the intellect, and opened to me quite a new and unknown field; while his method of teaching the Latin language was so easy, and at the same time so philosophical, that I not only acquired a fresh taste for that idiom, but, moreover, gained the power of improving myself in other languages. In addition to him, I owe any progress that I may have made there to one of my schoolfellows, who was, in an equal degree, the confidant of my heart and the companion of my intellect. Our joys and our sorrows had a common source; we thought, we felt, we studied in common, and I know that even to this day we are called, in the community, by the name of Orestes and Pylades.⁶ Our literary undertakings were colossal and most adventurous; but although the time and trouble spent upon them was out of all proportion to the use we derived from them, they have not proved entirely fruitless. Provided with a very slight knowledge of the language, and in addition to this, armed with nothing better than Hederich’s dictionary and Merk’s grammar, we fell upon the Greek poets, and devoured, with comparatively great rapidity, Homer, Hesiod, Theocritus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Pindar. That much of what we read remained unintelligible to us, by no means cooled our ardour; we knew that a great deal of auxiliary knowledge must be required which we did not as yet possess; but we were satisfied with what we did understand, and hoped to acquire new light. We had never had a lesson on Greek antiquities; but, by degrees, we made many discoveries ourselves, and wrote, in most triumphant mood, essays abounding in quotations, which contained nothing more than what the whole world knew. Still more ridiculous was our undertaking to read the Old Testament, with the help of Danz’s grammar and Stock’s dictionary, although we were utterly devoid of all the necessary preliminary knowledge; and yet it was only in the obscurities of Ezekiel that we stuck. Here also, however, we obtained (at the cost of a most disproportionate expenditure of labour, it is true, yet with all the greater gain of enjoyment) a number of notices, which we could not otherwise have acquired in our position.

The seminary at Barby, to which I was removed together with my friend in 1785, is in fact the university of the Brotherhood. My friend and myself were both unusually young when promoted to its benches; but our joy at this distinction was qualified by many a fear and tribulation. We went thither in the expectation of being appointed teachers in a few years; but if we were only to be teachers of science, it seemed to us moving in an intolerable circle to be learning something merely for the sake of teaching it to some one else, who in his turn was learning it to be able to impart it to others; for in the congregation we saw no application of the sciences to the affairs of life, which rendered it worth while to spend so much time and trouble upon them. On the other hand, if we were to be teachers and wardens in the community, we felt persuaded that we were, and should long be, deficient in every qualification for such an office. However happy we might feel in pursuing our common studies, and in the consciousness of our friendship, this happiness was disturbed every time we gave ourselves up to serious reflection. We were still striving in vain for supernatural experiences, and for that which in the phraseology of the Brethren was termed intercourse with Jesus; the most violent tension of our imagination remained fruitless, and the voluntary aids which it lent, were always discovered to be deceptive. Up to this period we had sought consolation in Greek poetry, and had found it a glorious solamen; now, however, the matter was brought more and more home to us. But a new leaf was soon to be turned over. We were reposing on the trophies of the wide-spread philosophical reputation which we enjoyed, and we began to philosophize. The increase of external liberty also seemed to loosen the fetters of the mind; for certainly it was not the miserable logic which we heard, nor the limited reading that we enjoyed, nor the example of older comrades who played the part of freethinkers, that awakened in us the spirit of investigation. The plot of the psychological drama had reached its climax: the time had come when the confusion must be reduced to order, and this could only take place in accordance with the internal condition of our minds. The investigations of modern theologians into the Christian system, and the inquiries of modern philosophers regarding the soul of man, were of no avail to us, for although we heard occasionally that something of the kind was going on in the world, we could only guess at the results from what we discovered ourselves. We trespassed indeed inasmuch as we obtained books through means of forbidden correspondence and by secret and circuitous routes, but it was only for Wieland’s poems and Goethe’s Werther that we pined—it was for our feelings only that we sought food from without—as for our intellects, they were in too great a state of fermentation, and we were too much absorbed in watching this fermentation, to be receptive for the ideas of others. But the more I am tempted to dwell upon this the first blossoming period of my mind, the more I feel that in pages which are not destined for myself, I ought not to venture to depict even a few of the numerous recollections that rush in upon me.

My convictions soon differed so widely from the system adopted by the United Brethren, that I thought I could no longer conscientiously remain a member of the congregation, and the utterances of my ideas also became so distinct, that the attention of the superiors was attracted to the trefoil (for a young Englishman of remarkable talent had by this time joined my friend and myself). In vain was every means of conversion employed; I could no longer be drawn out of the path I had entered; but long after, I still felt the exhaustion consequent upon the immense exertions I was obliged to make to conquer the numerous obstacles and impediments that were placed in my way as soon as it was discovered that I had entered this path. My father granted my request to be allowed to leave Barby, and to go to the University of Halle. This I did in the spring of the year 1787, and under very unfavourable circumstances. Utterly unacquainted with the world of which I had seen nothing since my fourteenth year—with the consciousness of being very deficient in suppleness of mind, and outward polish—having the most disadvantageous opinion of the brutality of my future comrades, and despairing of being able to make friends among them, I found within myself no remedy against the evils I anticipated; for I was shy, and enervated by long subjection to depressing circumstances. The only support on which I depended was that of a fatherly friend, on whose affection and advice I knew I could rely, namely, Professor Stubenrauch, the brother of my mother, whom I had lost some years previously. The merits of this uncle in regard to me are too great and too numerous to allow of my touching upon them in detail, and nothing gives me more pain than to think that I have not availed myself sufficiently of his friendship to be able to say in lieu of all praise: “See what I have become, and to him I owe it.”

The progress which my inner man made during that period, still lies too near to me, to allow me to take a comprehensive view of it, and I shall, therefore, confine myself to the outward events of my life. Into my studies I had not yet succeeded in introducing a proper degree of harmony; I did not either study with a view to the future, but merely with the desire to satisfy the present craving; and, in consequence, I tasted a little of everything, and did not take a final decision until very late. Still more detrimental to me was that conceit which is peculiar to the self-educated, to whom I in a great measure belonged. They generally adhere obstinately to the method by means of which they have with great exertion acquired but very little; they despise learning, and maintain that it does not so much matter what you know as how you know it. While at Halle I desired neither to learn the science of Scripture interpretation nor of philosophy, and I therefore attended no exegetical, and but one philosophical, course, and this merely to obtain data to which to attach my own reflections. One thing, however, I perceived that it was absolutely necessary to learn, and that was history, and more especially the history of human opinions, the need of which I keenly felt. In consequence I devoted myself to this science in both its branches, and soon began to search for the sources of those parts which particularly interested me.

The shortness of my stay at the academy, which only lasted two years, did not indeed admit of much more than a kind of fragmentary study of all sciences, with the hope of picking up a little of each; yet I am willing to confess that had I been less obstinate, and had I possessed more outward culture, I might, in many respects, have derived greater advantages from this stay. After the lapse of the above-mentioned time, I went for a year to my uncle Stubenrauch’s, who had in the meantime exchanged his professorship for a living in Drossen in Neumark: a quiet year, spent in enjoyment of his valued intercourse, and during which I endeavoured to supplement, to a certain extent, the fragmentary knowledge I had acquired of the theological sciences, and to establish a greater inward connection between the fragments. Then also I began, for the first time, to think of the future, and not without serious misgivings I presented myself for the examination pro licentia, which I passed in the summer of 1790.

Through the Rev. Mr. Sack, Chaplain in Ordinary to the King, who had ever shown me much kindness out of friendship for my uncle, I soon after received the offer of a situation as tutor in the family of Count Dohna, of Schlobitten, in the province of Prussia, whither I went in the autumn. In this house I spent three years, upon the whole, very happily. My pupil, a well-disposed, and in many respects psychologically remarkable boy, made, not indeed rapid, but still tolerable progress, without causing me pain or annoyance of any kind; and a sister of his, who took part in the lessons, afforded me the pleasant and gratifying spectacle of a female mind highly receptive for all kinds of knowledge.

Upon the whole, the numerous family occupied me in various ways, so that less time than I might have desired was left me to pursue my own studies; but the characters of all were so amiable and so estimable, that it gave me true pleasure when I was able from time to time to contribute to their domestic enjoyment; and the delight I experienced at being a witness of, and participator in, so high a degree of family happiness, was the greater, because it is said to be so rare a phenomenon in houses of this rank. Yet from the very commencement my position was such as not to promise long duration. When parents and educators either do not entirely agree, or do not at once come to an explanation, and establish the limits of the authority of both, the latter always occupy a very unstable position. This was my case, and my want of experience prevented me from seeing at once all the consequences and taking measures to countervail them. Thus great differences in our appreciation of methods and modes of teaching soon became apparent, together with a certain endeavour to stave off explanations, and rather to prevent jarrings by all kinds of little expedients. Expedients, however, can never be more than palliatives, and only serve to postpone the evil. I sought in the mildest way possible to vindicate my ideas, and to maintain my principle of never acting contrary to my convictions, on any matter of importance, from a mere desire of compliance, at least, not without trying every means of escape; but my perseverance must, no doubt, in spite of my endeavours to the contrary, have appeared like obstinacy, and a collision could not but ensue, more especially as my firmness was opposed to a hasty and capricious temper; and thus a connection, which had been to me rich in pleasant things and the source of many valuable experiences, was terminated, not unexpectedly, yet abruptly.

Soon after my return from Prussia, in the autumn of last year (1793), a new career was opened to me; I became a member of the seminary for college teachers, established here in Berlin, under the direction of Dr. Gedike, and the situation of teacher in the Kornmesser Orphan Asylum having become vacant, I was, at the same time, temporarily appointed to undertake part of the instruction there, which secured to me the advantage of free lodgings in the house. In the first-named position I felt myself a perfect novice. Since my sixteenth year I had known but one great educational establishment, and that was governed in a spirit quite peculiar to itself, so that I had now, in regard to many things, to acquire my first experiences, which were not always agreeable, and some time passed before I was able to measure the ground, and to take my proper stand. In the last-named position, on the contrary, I soon felt at home; I have always experienced much pleasure in fulfilling the duties which devolved upon me in connection with it, and I sincerely wish that the good which I have been able to effect among the pupils of the house in which I write this, may be obvious and considerable.

I have held these two situations half a year only, and am now about to exchange them for the office of a Christian teacher, having already received ordination as such. Pastor Schumann, of Landsberg, on the Warthe, a relative of mine, whose acquaintance I made during my stay in Drossen, and whom I have since then repeatedly visited, and for whom I have preached at various times—has been obliged, on account of ill health, to solicit a release from his duties, and the appointment of an assistant; and, out of friendship, he mentioned me as the person from whom he most desired to obtain the required help. This change, thus proposed, seems to me desirable in many respects; and I have been confirmed in this view by the opinion of my superiors and of all those persons who, with a kindness that I cannot sufficiently acknowledge, take an interest in my concerns. My petition likewise met with no opposition from the most reverend Ecclesiastical Directory, which has, on the contrary, appointed me to act as my uncle’s substitute in Landsberg.

May my conduct in the new office I am about to enter be such as to justify the confidence which my superiors have evinced in appointing me to it. It is my resolve to do everything that in me lies to do honour to it; and may God, who has hitherto so visibly guided my destiny towards it, and has afforded me various opportunities for developing my mind usefully in regard to it, and for acquiring a practical knowledge of many preliminary duties and offices, also give His blessing to this last important turn in my career, so that I may be able to show by the faithful and wise exercise of the pre-eminently important duties entrusted to me that I have profited by His goodness.

---

← Introduction by the Translator · Contents · Early Childhood →

Footnotes

1. This is the term used in Germany to distinguish the Calvinistic from the Lutheran Church.—TRANS. ↩

2. A German child’s book of the nature of the “Evenings at Home,” and others.—TRANS. ↩

3. The chief educational establishments in Germany in connection with the Moravian Church are at Gnadenfrei, in Upper Silesia (Prussian part), and at Niesky, in Upper Lusatia (Prussian part). The former is the Moravian University, where the future ministers study theology. This university was formerly located at Lindheim, Marienborn, Barby, and Niesky.—TRANS. ↩

4. The governing body of the Moravian Church, who have their seat at Berthelsdorf, near Herrnhut, in Saxony. The present appellation of this body is “The Elders’ Conference of the Unity.”—TRANS. ↩

5. There are at Niesky two institutions, the one named the Pæda- gogium, and the other the Knabenanstalt. The former is intended mostly, but not exclusively, for Moravian boys who wish to enter the ministry. It is a kind of preparatory college, suited to those who desire a good classical and mathematical education, or who intend entering the seminary (or University) at Gnadenfrei. The course is one of six years; and youth enter mostly in their twelfth or fourteenth year. The name Pædagogium was probably taken from the appellation of the celebrated institution at Halle, in which Zinzendorff was educated.—TRANS. ↩

6. This friend was Von Albertini, subsequently bishop of the fraternity. ↩