Part 11

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]