A Tale of the Kloster Part 8

Hardly had this storm subsided than our Brother Onesimus, thinking no doubt it was his turn, concluded that even though properly baptized and notwithstanding he had taken the vows of celibacy, yet there was nothing to prevent him from re-entering the world and marrying, so he advised the Brotherhood to make a new covenant with the Virgin Mary as the patroness of their Order.

As a visible sign of their betrothal to the virgin, Brother Onesimus advised that the Brothers and Sisters all cut the tonsure. Brother Beissel, who always counseled chast.i.ty and celibacy, fell into this folly of the Eckerlings just as readily as he had into the former ones and hardly had the prior convened the Brotherhood in the chapter house, where each Brother in turn kneeling down repeated his pledge of celibacy and had his hair cut and his crown shorn, when our leader, not to be outdone by the prior, called together the Spiritual Virgins, in their _Saal_.

After reconsecrating the a.s.sembled Sisters to the heavenly Bridegroom, Brother Beissel, with the a.s.sistance of another Brother, cut the hair of each of the Sisterhood in the manner of the primitive Christian church, after which the crowns of the Sisters were likewise shorn, our superintendent gathering up the tresses and carrying them to Zion where he laid them upon the altar expressing the wish that he might live until the Sisters' heads were gray--and it was further resolved and ordered that the tonsure was to be renewed every three months and in the meantime no one was to put shears to his or her head. Thus was another madness inflicted upon us.

Our prior continuing to exalt himself in his priesthood, had our Sisters make for him a robe or costume such as is described in the Bible as having been worn by the high priest in the temple, and when our prior presided thereafter at the _agapae_ and baptisms he presented to the unsophisticated a most gorgeous sight, while to me the whole thing was disgusting. Following the tonsure and the priestly robe Prior Onesimus introduced night-watches and processions, which resulted not only that our superintendent was virtually superseded by our cunning prior, but what was far worse, these abominations, so foreign to our simple Sabbatarian precepts, becoming known to the surrounding country brought additional ridicule and contempt upon us and for many years wherever we went we had hurled at us such epithets (_Schimpfworte_) as _Glatzkopfe_ (bald heads), _Vollmonde_ (full moons), _Bettel-Monche_ (beggar friars), and _Pfaffenmucker_ (Papish double-dealers). Not only were we compelled to listen to such nicknames, but by reason of this aping of the monastic customs of the Middle Ages we incurred the ire of the Scotch-Irish settlers, hard-headed Presbyterians, between the Octoraro and the Susquehanna, so that no matter what we or our friends said to the contrary these stubborn old Covenanters were sure we were nothing but a nest of Jesuit emissaries, and the "croppies," as our Presbyterian friends were wont to call us were decried from their pulpits as well as held up to scorn by the members of that church wherever and whenever the opportunity afforded.

Still the Eckerlings went on in their unceasing activities. Having built Zion according to their own ideas, they were, however, not contented; for as they had left no room for the congregational gatherings all the a.s.semblages and love feasts were held in the house of prayer adjoining the Sister house, Kedar; but as the Zionitic Brotherhood had to traverse the intervening distance in all kinds of bad weather and as the nightly processions had to take their way toward the habitation of the Spiritual Virgins all sorts of unfavorable comments were made by the outsiders, who, judging from their own evil minds, did not hesitate to call into question the honesty of the Brethren in their adherence to their vows.

Thus it was determined to erect a building which should be a combined prayer and schoolhouse, to adjoin Zion and be large enough to accommodate the secular congregation as well as all the Solitary within the community, and so rapidly did the work progress and so favorable was the weather (although it was late in the fall not a drop of rain or flake of snow or frost appeared until the middle of the following January), that the work on the chapel went on without intermission or hindrance, so that by the following summer, Zion's _Saal_, as it was called, a stately three-story structure, was completed, the lower floor being for wors.h.i.+p and the second for the love feasts and _pedelavium_ and the third being divided into small cells for the Solitary Brothers of the Zionitic Order. In July of 1740 the last joint services were held in Kedar, to which all the Sabbatarians, far and near, were invited, not excepting the Welsh and English Brethren in Nantmill and Newtown, invitations being scattered broadcast even among the Germans beyond the Schuylkill, and to all who came the hospitality of the community was most cordially extended. After that time Kedar fell exclusively to the Order of Spiritual Virgins.

Not two weeks later the Brotherhood of Zion dedicated their new temple, at midnight, the prior not losing the opportunity for making the occasion remarkable for an interminable number of processions, incantations, prayers, and mysterious ceremonies, said to date from Pharaoh, from whose bondage we, unlike the children of Israel, did not seem able to free ourselves.

About a month later, our Brother Beissel, being now the acknowledged superintendent of our entire community, must surrender himself so completely to the vanities of the Eckerlings that in the presence of the whole congregation, from among whom I saw Sister Bernice look at me with shy pride, he solemnly consecrated Brother Onesimus, Brother Enoch, and myself to the priesthood, by the laying on of hands, after which with most solemn and ancient ceremony we had conferred on us the centuries-old Order of Melchizedek, although what this order had to do with our Christian life, I confess I have never yet found out, only consenting to the doubtful honor in order to appease our superintendent's displeasure, whose rigorous spirit often pressed on my slower one.

And now, our superintendent, a.s.suming the role of Grand Master of the Zionitic Brotherhood, deposed Brother Jotham and in his stead, despite the protests of himself and his following, appointed Brother Onesimus, Prior, or Perfect Master, of the Brotherhood. Our new prior, however, was even worse than his brother and applied the discipline of the order so rigidly that I was compelled to write to a friend, that "Now was there between the poor devotees of Ephrata and the wool-headed African slaves no other difference than that we are white and free slaves," and indeed, I fear I almost felt toward the Eckerlings like the English king who wondered whether there was no one to rid him of his enemies.

At the risk of trespa.s.sing too far on the patience of those who may read this, I shall narrate of the clock and bells donated to the community by my father, and which the Eckerlings obtained permission to place in the steeple over the roof of the _Saal_. This clock held an ingenious attachment for chiming the bells and for ringing them at certain times during the day and night, to call us to our various and now almost innumerable devotions. When this bell was rung at midnight, not only did the Solitary arise from their wooden couches, but for miles around, whenever the notes of the bell could be heard, all the families arose also and held their wors.h.i.+p at the same time; but though the fires of first love for their faith burned strongly among the secular members at this time, yet it finally came about that the congregation demanded a house where they could wors.h.i.+p unhindered by the exacting rules and ceremonies of the Brotherhood of Zion, who seeing in this an excellent opportunity for securing their temple wholly to their own uses, fell in with might and main to prepare the frame and timbers for another prayer house, nominally for the exclusive use of the secular members.

And now, though all our houses of wors.h.i.+p were on the higher ground, the site for this new temple was chosen down in the meadow, and this less pretentious _Saal_ still survives, while its loftily situated and proud predecessors have long ago pa.s.sed away. Thus as the Lord hath promised doth he exalt the lowly and bring down the haughty.

In size the new prayer house was to be forty feet square and that many feet in height, thus symbolizing the perfect number, although it hath been claimed that some of the builders wondering what might happen if they followed not the perfect proportions, made the width two feet narrower and the height somewhat greater than forty feet. Be that as it may, I have not seen in these fifty years since the building was put up that the variation, if there were such, hath made any difference for good or ill.

But the good fortune attending us during the building of the _Saal_ forsook us now, for many delays and heavy disappointments fell upon us ere our task was performed; for the weather during the fall and winter of 1740 and 1741 was exceptionally hard, there being the severest storms and the extremest cold. Never since have I seen such cold and sleet and ice and snow as during that awful winter. The Cocalico was completely hidden under its thick covering of ice and snow so that a stranger would not have known there was a stream there. At times the snow was three feet deep on the level, and where it had drifted from the winds, cabins and outbuildings were completely covered over. Families were imprisoned in their homes. Cattle died from want of fodder. Even the wild beasts in the forest, though knowing so well how to take care of themselves, died of hunger, so that deer were found dead in the woods. Indeed, it was no infrequent sight to see the pretty animals, usually so timid, driven by their great hunger to the very cabin doors for food, sometimes even mingling with the cattle. The settlers, especially of the more remote districts, suffered greatly from lack of bread, and had little to live on but the carca.s.ses of the deer found in the swamps. Even the Indians suffered on account of the lack of game. Often during the night there would be borne to our ears the strangest sounds, heavings, and groanings from the ice-bound, rebellious Cocalico, the walls of our buildings even seeming to strain and crack as though they would fall asunder. Sometimes at long intervals during those dark, bitter, cold nights there would fall from the depths of the sky the trumpet calls of wild fowls, winging their way I know not whither, but still, I know, within His care. At times, these shrill cries came with such strength and suddenness that Sonnlein would jump up out of the soundest sleep, cuddling up close to me as though only I could save him from those mysterious, threatening voices.

But the Solitary, despite the severity of the winter, pressed on at every relaxation of the weather toward the completion of our new prayer house, and as the spring opened, we being now joined by the congregation at large, the work went on rapidly, though the building which our superintendent named "Peniel" (being the name Jacob gave to the place where he wrestled with G.o.d), was not made tenantable until the following December, when it was duly consecrated to G.o.d.

All during this hard winter I could see that Brother Agonius, his hardy frame worn out by excessive zeal, was suffering keenly from the cold, piercing winds, and I felt with deepening sadness, day after day as I saw his infirmity increase, that our brother must soon cease to be among us. How bravely he fought to remain with us and how uncomplainingly he faced the inevitable end, his rugged heart mellowing and ripening into sweeter and more resigned humility before being plucked from its stem by the Master's loving hand!

Spring had not yet yielded itself to summer--for it was only the latter part of May when the fields and the woods were gay with flowers--when what he stubbornly maintained was only a slight weakness pa.s.sed into the serious illness that in a few days ended his labors on earth. But such was his unyielding will that on the Sabbath before his death he was at meeting, and the following evening there were good hopes for his recovery.

About an hour before midnight--Sonnlein having gone to sleep soon after dark--I bethought me to go to our brother's _Kammer_ and give him such comfort as he might need. I found him alone in his little cell sitting feebly on his wooden bench, so that I could see he was suffering great weakness. At first he resisted my gentle persuasions to lie down and rest, but finally consented thereto, even, after much coaxing, letting me spread my robe under him and rest his head on it; for he was so thin I could not bear to see his poor frame with nothing between it and the hard board's.

I rejoiced to see him drop off into a deep sleep that I fondly hoped would last until the morning; but there was a something about his sleep so unnaturally deep and profound I feared it might be the forerunner of his speedy dissolution.

It was close now to the midnight hour and soon there rang out from the darkness the clear notes of our bell calling the Brothers and Sisters to their wonted devotions. Scarcely had the first stroke died away when I was startled almost out of my wits to see Brother Agonius sit up straight on his bench, looking ahead with a fixed, steady stare.

"What seest thou, brother?" I asked softly and I know my voice trembled, for I understood not his strange gazing.

But he heeded me not in the least only that he appeared to be muttering to himself. Then his voice, becoming more firm, he said, still as though to himself, "Ye foolish Eckerlings; flee ye from the wrath to come!"

"What meanest thou?" I asked wonderingly; but still he heeded not, only muttering as before something about the Eckerlings of which now and then I would catch some few words, which seemed to me like, "O ye Eckerlings; ye poor Eckerlings; driven away--alone--captured--tortured--separated--persecuted--homeless"; and then my brother sighed as though a world of woe oppressed him and murmured, "Repent ye; repent ye"; all this time my flesh creeping with dread as the low tone of the dying man uttered this marvelous prophecy; for such, in truth, it was.

Finally he lay down again, but still muttering and mumbling, only lower than before. Once he mentioned my name and it seemed to me he said pityingly, "Poor Brother Jabez," and then after a long pause, "Poor Sister Bernice," and then after a still longer pause, during which I waited anxiously for what might follow he said more clearly, "The fight will not be long; comfort thou him, Lord"; so that I could not keep out a great fear for that he should couple my name with my dear sister's so strangely; for I had oft heard that dying ones see not only the past but even the future with great clearness, and I could not help the dread that held my heart as though with a hand of ice.

When the Brethren dropped in after their devotions our brother was again suffering such agony that he declared--being in his senses again--his sacrifice on the cross was now complete, wherefore he did not know whether any saint had ever suffered such martyrdom, and while the Brethren were singing at his request the hymn, "The time is not yet come," he asked that they intercede with G.o.d that he might open to him his prison door.

As his end drew near he asked that certain psalms and parts of Tauler's "Last Hours" be repeatedly read to him, after which he asked to be anointed in the manner of the first Christians. This was done, Brother Beissel applying the chrism. On the Wednesday following, Brother Agonius kept looking keenly toward the hour-gla.s.s, for it had been revealed to him that his end was to come at the ninth hour of that day.

And so when the ninth hour came he sat up straight on his wooden bench, but immediately fell over scarce breathing; but he revived again and asked feebly whether he had not died. With the end of the ninth hour he pa.s.sed away with the senseless sands of the hour-gla.s.s.

The next day his mortal remains were placed in a neat coffin where the Brethren and Sisters and the settlers of all denominations for miles around could gaze once more upon the face and form of this unconquerable Christian soldier and martyr and pay their last respects to the memory of our eloquent exhorter. I shall not dwell upon the rites and ceremonies that made his burial so solemn and memorable. As his body was lowered into its resting-place in the meadow a little to the east of Brother Beissel's cabin, a special funeral hymn was sung by the Sabbatarians, composed for the occasion by his lifelong friend, our superintendent.

After the singing of the hymn the Brotherhood of Zion, being nearest about the grave, closed with its mystic rites the funeral ceremonies, the Sisters in a tearful group standing beyond us, and all being surrounded by the sincere friends of our departed brother, and the curious ones who ever attend such sad occasions.

A modest tombstone marks his sleeping-place, bearing the following German inscription by Brother Beissel, which I translate freely thus:

HERE REPOSES THE G.o.dLY WARRIOR

AGONIUS

DIED ANNO 1741.

_Aged 54 years, 4 months, 28 days._

Victory brings the crown In the fight for faith, grace, and renown.

Thus blessings crown the warrior true Who bravely sin and Belial slew.

Peacefully he pa.s.sed to his chamber of rest Where now he is free of all pain and distress.

CHAPTER XII

SISTER BERNICE IS COMFORTED

Girls and gold are the softer the purer they are.

--Jean Paul Richter.

The beautiful flowers that grew down in the meadow where we laid our Brother Agonius in his chamber of rest, like him were soon gathered up into the arms of the Master Reaper. The enchantments of the long, hot, summer days had worked silently but surely the entrancing spells that now spread over field and forest the glowing vestments of the early fall.

But one day as I was resting at the foot of the venerable oak where Brother Martin had been hastened to his death by that strange woman not many years before, suddenly I heard a piercing shriek from the thick woods back of me and a wild, terrified rush toward the little clearing where I was standing erect, fairly astounded. In a moment more Sister Bernice fell almost headlong at my feet, whence I lifted her unconscious with fright and terror into my arms.

Hardly knowing what to do I stood there helplessly gazing at her sweet face and then at the crown of hair that lay like a golden fleece over my arm, her hood having fallen to the ground, so that I was thankful some remnant of womanly vanity had saved her from the hideous tonsure. But I bethought myself to lay her gently on the ground, her head, a dear burden, in my lap, fanning her face as best I might with my large, toil-stained hands. At last the fluttering eyelids and the gasping breath told me of returning consciousness. At first she opened her eyes and gazed at me wonderingly, vaguely, and once she closed them as if to shut out some awful sight. I rubbed her hands, her wrists, softly smoothed her brow, and spake to her gently, "'Tis naught but Brother Jabez; thou needst not fear him. What hath he done?" and by such soft entreaties and with tender pressures of the hands I sought to soothe her to herself again.

Finally, she sat up weakly, but leaning so sweetly and helplessly against me--it being necessary to hold her safe with mine arms for great fear she might faint again--that I longed to sit there forever. She, however, after a while freed herself somewhat from my too careful protection and said "Nay, my dear sister, my--Bernice, I never had much faith in such wild tales," said I, as she lifted those clear, trusting eyes to mine. And may I be forgiven for this unblus.h.i.+ng, unscrupulous lie; for did I not know of the witch of Endor? Many a tale had I heard in the _Vaterland_ of the malign influences of the evil eye, so that now I felt a vague dread I dared not make known to my poor little sister, who had flown to my arms as a birdling to its nest.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "In a moment more Sister Bernice fell almost headlong at my feet." Page 128.]

"Think not of her more, my sister; she cannot harm thee now, dear Bernice." Upon which boastful a.s.surance she smiled confidently enough and said with a look I would not have changed for a kingdom, "That I know quite well, thou great giant; wast thou ever afraid, Brother Jabez?"

"Never," I responded valiantly, recklessly adding another lie to the record I this day seemed bound to cover with falsehoods.

"Oh, that I could be so brave, Brother Jabez; but I have ever been weak, such a coward; the _Vaterchen_ and the _Mutterchen_ always s.h.i.+elded me as though I were in all truth a baby." Here she paused as if to catch her breath, and then slowly again as with difficulty she said quietly, "I have been growing so weak lately, I wonder what ails me?"

And now my selfish joy, after all these gloomy months without sight of her, gave way to a pain that shot through me like an arrow as I saw how much more delicate and ethereal she had become since that blissful love feast. For a moment my soul was in hot rebellion at all the hards.h.i.+ps and privations that made our Kloster life almost unbearable to the strongest and which were so heavy on the frail shoulders of this sweet angel at my side. Something of my wicked wrath must have expressed itself against my will, for she suddenly looked up at me alarmed, crying out, "What is wrong, Brother Jabez? Thou hast such a hard, angry look in thy eyes, such as I have never seen there before."

"I am not in anger, Sister Bernice" replied I, softening my evil looks to fit my words, "merely thinking hard--exceeding hard."