"Be what thou seemes be the Let the great Lästet's steps de chine" Next Friday comes the Poor mod y se das That ITS OV to visit Thurger Wa & dat have Justus Jacobi, Urich Costot laatat and reset maasse? on Tuesday and de ten days of fact. Wald, coming out at seach and the lil andere and then take train back, visiting Wermat of the way was as to the Sundays So I told them that Sunday, but if they chose to do so day. They, however, would not bear to make Sundays days of rest. Early on June 5th the four young men started forth, but on account of the rain, took the cars direy for Ileimar. I found the address of Fran Presidenten Rathern, the daughter of Niebuhr, to whom I had a letter from Pres Porter She pro posed a walk, and under her guidance, 1 ser a good put et Weimar. Goethe's summer house and garden were closed, but we found a weak spot in the holge and laughing like a she sprang through with me, only bidding me look out for a dog I wanted to find a flower to send home to my mother, picked some honeysuckles, and asked me to send them from her, which I accordingly do. We went into Goethe's garden and house in the city, so I saw the window where he died, calling out at the last moment, "More light," which the Germans inter pret metaphorically I went into the garden where he used to walk, with his hands behind him, thinking and composing. cannot describe the feelings that came over me in the home of that great spirit. The grandeur of man, his possibilities and limita tions, came clearly before me. What is Goethe now? Is he without God? I From Weimar, they went to Eisenach, from which place he writes: Yesterday, it was Goethe; to-day, Luther. We were awakened to him, and was a help in other ways. He formed a warm friendship with her, and through her, with her husband, from whom he received kind messages in his letters, as during his absence she made her home with her mother. The friendship of the trio, which brought him great pleasure, continued through his life. Dear Mother: Halle, May 28th, 1870. Prof. Müller is in full activity and tolerable health. He is the most zealous of lecturers, and never misses an hour without good cause. He has just published a volume of essays on various theological subjects. I heard him on dogmatic theology, last winter, and hear him now on the Gospel of St. John. I had a pleasant walk with Tholuck day before yesterday. Speaking of my Uncle Leonard's translation of Knapp's Theology, he told me something of Knapp, who was his predecessor in Halle. When he came here from Berlin, he asked Prof. Knapp how many of the eight or nine hundred theological students who heard him were sincere Christians. The tears came into Knapp's eyes as he answered, "Oh, you cannot ask that here. Everything is cold and lifeless. The only one I know the Moravians sent me. But these," said he, bringing out a bundle of letters, "these are my consolation. They are from students, telling me how they have been led to Christ since leaving Halle." I then inquired what were the outward influences that led him to take such a different position from all those about him. He gave them as two. The first was Neander, but that was more preparatory. Baron Cottwiz was the other. He had always been asking himself what was the object of this human life. It was not pleasure, for many failed of that. Not learning nor science, for but few could obtain these. Baron Cottwiz took him into his family and without speaking to him directly on religion, showed him an actual Christian life which gave itself up to others. The Baron supported about five thousand poor men in various ways, yet without publicity. He went incognito through the world. There Tholuck learned that to live for others was the highest aim. And he could say that his life had been one of self-denial. He left Berlin, where he had hundreds of Christian friends, and accepted a professorship here, where he must stand alone. The only active Christians he knew in the place were two tradesmen. One of them established the prayer-meeting where Müller, afterwards of Bristol, England, and one of his first students, was converted. And since that time, the change has been truly marvellous, not only in Halle but throughout Germany. CHAPTER VIII. THE THOLUCK JUBILEE. "Be what thou seemest! live thy creed! Let the great Master's steps be thine." Next Friday comes the Pflinger recess of ten days. I had arranged to visit Thuringer Wald, but have concluded to make a foot tour. Justus Jacobi, Ulrich Cosack, Waalrolt and myself propose to start on Tuesday and be ten days on foot. We go through the Thuringer Wald, coming out at Eisenach and the Wartburg, and then take the train back, visiting Weimar on the way. The only difficulty I feared was as to the Sundays. So I told them that I never travelled on Sunday, but if they chose to do so, I would overtake them on Monday. They, however, would not hear to this, so that it was agreed to make Sundays days of rest. Early on June 5th the four young men started forth, but on account of the rain, took the cars direct for Weimar. I found the address of Frau Presidenten Rathgen, the daughter of Niebuhr, to whom I had a letter from Pres. Porter. She proposed a walk, and under her guidance, I saw a good part of Weimar. Goethe's summer house and garden were closed, but we found a weak spot in the hedge and, laughing like a child, she sprang through with me, only bidding me look out for a dog. I wanted to find a flower to send home to my mother. She picked some honeysuckles, and asked me to send them from her, which I accordingly do. We went into Goethe's garden and house in the city, so I saw the window where he died, calling out at the last moment, "More light," which the Germans interpret metaphorically. I went into the garden where he used to walk, with his hands behind him, thinking and composing. I cannot describe the feelings that came over me in the home of that great spirit. The grandeur of man, his possibilities and limitations, came clearly before me. What is Goethe now? Is he without God? From Weimar, they went to Eisenach, from which place he writes: Yesterday, it was Goethe; to-day, Luther. We were awakened at half-past four by the songs of the boys. The old chorals rang out beautifully in this pleasant, old, narrowed-streeted city. Ein feste Burg ist unsere Gott. From a certain spot at Die hohen Sonne one gets a look at the Wartburg, five miles off through an opening in the trees-the most beautiful and remarkable thing I have seen in this journey, seeming like a lovely picture in a frame of green. Halle, July 7th, 1870. In what a rebellious state one must live, who cannot take the world as it comes! The hard, old world grinds away and brings us down to the stern bread and butter facts of life. When I see those around me pressing on for some new bubble, I feel as if I had lived for ages. But the next minute, I am pressing on too. Yet, if I seek unfindable things, I do it all the time with a half consciousness that it will never be found, and that I am deceiving myself with the feeling that I will take what I can get, even although the ideal never can exist. It may seem strange that I should say this, when I have so many and such good friends. But this does not satisfy me. The friendship which is worthy of the name seeks the greatest possible perfection in the character it loves, loves so truly indeed that it cannot be deterred by the offence it might give in pointing out a fault. Such is a mother's love. Such is your love and father's love, but I cannot expect to find that in the form of friendship. This longing for what we cannot find should lead us to Jesus Christ himself. But the bonds of flesh so bind us that it is with the greatest difficulty we rise to close communion with him. How gladly would I free myself from these clogs! During these anxious months, Edward sent accounts as to the progress of the war, which appeared in the Christian Union and other papers. His letters home also gave many particulars. Halle, July 24th, 1870. The horrible war-giant is still arming himself, and when he once breaks loose, I know not what sights this world may see. Everybody is pressing into the army. The young men who have never served will form the reserve, and occupy the fortresses. Lectures are thinly attended, most of the students being already in the ranks. Troops go through on the railroad by thousands each day. All regular trains are stopped, and to travel is almost an impossibility. Every house in the city is prepared for the lodgment of soldiers. Frau Prof. Cosack has two beds ready, which may be demanded at any time, for those on their way to the Rhine. Large booths have been erected at the station where refreshments are sold cheap to the defenders of the country. The enthusiasm which prevails everywhere is indescribable. A friend, whose husband is a lieutenant, expresses her regret that he must remain at home to take charge of the reserves. She would gladly send him into the battlefield. The women are not at all behind in their zeal for work. They are making preparation for the hospitals and inspiring all hands to join them. I hear from every quarter expressions of the greatest pleasure for the sympathy which America gives, for the protection of our embassy offered to Germans in Paris, for the sums of money sent from Germans in the West, and for the tone of the newspapers. Tholuck speaks of the friendship between the two countries as a kind of gemuthlichkeit, arising partly, on this side, perhaps, from some secret leanings towards republicanism. The mails as yet remain undisturbed, though letters should be sent via England. In his summer vacation Edward gladly accepted an invitation from Prof. and Frau Rathin Tholuck to pass a few weeks with them at Suderoda, in the Harz Mountains. He writes: Suderoda, Aug. 19th, 1870. I have been here two weeks, but can hardly realize it, the time flies so fast. Our company is increased by the presence of General Superintendent Niemann, from Hannover, the office being something like that of a bishop, and also by that of Prof. Dorner. The other day, we all received from the Graf and Grafin Harrach an invitation to a rendezvous at one of the beautiful spots in the Harz Mountains, seven or eight miles from here-the Magdesprung where two foot tracks are formed in the rocks at the edge of a precipice. The story is that a maiden leaped over here to escape from a pursuing hunter. Profs. Tholuck and Dorner, General Superintendent Niemann, Herr Besser and I walked there through beautiful thick pine forests. When we reached the hotel, it was nearly one, and the rest of our company were already there. Nine of us sat down to dinner. After this Frau Tholuck wanted to hear "Die Wacht am Rhein," the great patriotic song of the day. Herr Besser sings, so I offered to accompany him. While I was playing, Tholuck came over and stood with others by the piano, and as I rose, said, "I did not know that you played so,” and folding his arms about me, "I must embrace you, because you have played this song, and with such spirit." I was delighted to have given him such pleasure. On our way back, the Herr Rath had walked quietly along for about half an hour, his umbrella under his arm, when he suddenly stopped and said to Prof. Dorner, "But I have left my umbrella behind." "You have it under your arm." "Oh, well, then I must be a gelehrte," was his laughing response, as he trudged forward again. On Tuesday, we had another excursion, to which we were invited by Graf Sedlinitzky, the former bishop. After dinner, Tholuck told over the coffee several of his inimitable stories, some of them untranslatable. On their return to Halle, Edward writes:— Those six weeks in the Harz! What a delightful time it was! |