The Son to the Father.
[XXVIII.] Barby, 21st January, 1787.
TENDERLY BELOVED FATHER,
Though tardily expressed, my wishes for you in the New Year are not, therefore, the less sincere or the less fervent. The older we grow, dear father, the longer we witness the course of events in the world, the more persuaded we become, that neither for ourselves nor for others ought we to wish any of those things which are generally the object of desire, lest we should in reality be wishing for evil. Everything is, under some circumstances, happiness, and under others, unhappiness, except peace, tranquillity of mind, and submissiveness of heart; and this is what I wish for you, in addition to that which must be most valued by a father, well-founded joy in your children. The more I, as your son, wish you this from the bottom of my filial heart, the more it costs me, the more it pains me in the depth of my soul, that I must now announce to you something which will cause your hope, in the fulfilment of this wish, to waver.
I confessed to you, in my last letter, my dissatisfaction with the limited scope of my position here, and pointed out how easily, under such circumstances, religious doubts may, in our times, arise among young people. I thus endeavoured to prepare you for the intelligence that these doubts have been awakened in me, but I did not attain my object. You believed that your answer had set me at rest; and for six whole months I most unjustifiably remained silent, because I could not find it in my heart to destroy this illusion.
Faith is the regalia of the Godhead, you say. Alas! dearest father, if you believe that, without this faith, no one can attain to salvation in the next world, nor to tranquillity in this—and such, I know, is your belief—oh! then, pray to God to grant it to me, for to me it is now lost. I cannot believe that He, who called Himself the Son of Man, was the true, eternal God: I cannot believe that His death was a vicarious atonement, because He never expressly said so Himself; and I cannot believe it to have been necessary, because God, who evidently did not create men for perfection, but for the pursuit of it, cannot possibly intend to punish them eternally, because they have not attained it.
Alas! best of fathers, the deep and acute suffering which I endure while writing this letter, prevents me from giving you in detail the history of my soul as regards my opinions, or all my strong reasons for entertaining them; but I implore you, do not look upon them as merely transient views, without deep roots. During almost a whole year they have had a hold upon me, and it is long and earnest reflection that has determined me to adopt them. I entreat you not to keep back from me your strongest counter-reasons; but I candidly confess that I do not think you will succeed in convincing me at present, for I hold firmly by my convictions. And now are told these tidings which must be so terribly startling to you! Try to enter entirely into my feelings, and you will, perhaps, be able in some measure to understand what it must have cost me to write these lines, devoted to you as I am, my good father, with such tender filial affection, acknowledging as I do your great love for me, and being conscious that I owe everything to you; for that I entertain these feelings, I can aver with a good conscience, and I am sure that you also are persuaded of it. They have been written with trembling hand and with many tears; but even now I would not send them forth, had not my superiors encouraged me; and even in a manner charged me to write to you. Comfort yourself, dear father, for I know you were long in the same state that I am now. Doubts assailed you at one time as they now do me, and yet you have become what you now are. Think, hope, believe, that the same may be the case with me; and be assured that, although I may not be of the same faith as you, I will, nevertheless, ever strive to become an honourable, upright, and useful man; and, after all, that is the most essential thing.
I have openly laid my thoughts before my present superiors, and, upon the whole, I have been treated very kindly. They have told me that they would wait some time to see whether a happy change might not take place; but, at the same time, they have given me frequently and distinctly to understand, which is indeed a matter of course, that I must not look forward to obtaining even the most insignificant office in the community, until my convictions have undergone this change. I know, dear father, that however great may be the pain which I am now causing you, you will not withdraw from me your fatherly love and care. You will see, without my suggesting it, that it will be necessary even in case it cannot soon be realized—which, alas! I am convinced it cannot be—that measures should at once be taken to enable me to become a useful man beyond the limits of the community, as within it I cannot at present be so. If your circumstances will at all admit of it, pray, allow me to go to Halle, if only for two years. You must see that my success in life depends upon this. I can hardly believe that you will give your consent to my continuing my theological studies there, for you will not be willing to add one more to the heterodox teachers of our country. However, if you can do so with a good conscience, as I would at all events probably devote myself to a scholastic career, it will suit me much the best, for I am better prepared herein than in other sciences, and my inclination also lies this way. There, also, I would be more likely to change my views than by continued study in the congregation, for I would have more opportunities of testing every diversity of opinion, and would, perhaps, learn to see that many reasons are on one side not so strong, and on the other, stronger than I at present conceive. However, I leave it entirely to you to determine what I shall study. In regard to law there is this objection, that a jurist belonging to the burgher class rarely obtains an appointment; and in regard to medicine there is this other objection, that on account of my deficiency in preliminary knowledge, I would require two years more, while at the same time, the lectures are much more expensive. Perhaps uncle can give me free lodgings or free board in his house; or, perhaps, I might obtain free board elsewhere, or even a small stipend. Six young members of the Brotherhood are already studying the law in Halle, and these, together with my old friend W——, from Breslau, and Mr. S——, would be sufficient society for me; so that from this side you would not have reason to fear the corruption of the university, besides which, my time would be fully occupied with study, and I would live quietly under the guardianship of my uncle.
If you would communicate with the Brethren in Herrnhut upon the subject, and represent the matter to them, you might, perhaps, succeed in obtaining their consent to my going to Halle, in which case should I hereafter change my convictions, I would be at liberty to return to the community. The Brethren will no doubt understand that this diversion of my thoughts to quite different subjects would be the most likely means gradually to effect the desired change. However, should this even for a time entirely separate me from the congregation, it will, nevertheless, be better than that I should remain in the community with unaltered convictions, leading an inactive and discontented life. On the other hand, should I change in Halle, it is not impossible that I might return to the Brethren.
You will perceive in reading this letter, dear father, how hard it has been to me to write it. May God give you strength to receive the intelligence without injury to your health, without too great pain, and without suffering it to impair your fatherly love for me. He knows best what it has cost me to impart it to you.
And now, one request more only: make up your mind as quickly as possible. After Easter begin all the courses in Halle, and of what use would it be that I should remain another half-year here, consuming a great deal of money, and yet at last have to go?
In sorrow, dear father, I kiss your hands, and entreat you to look at everything from the most favourable side, and to consider well, and to bestow upon me in future, also, as far as it is possible, that fatherly affection which is so indescribably valued by
Your distressed and most dutiful Son.