German and Scandinavian Protestantism 1700-1918 (Oxford History of the Christian Church)

Oxford History of the Christian Church Edited by Henry and Owen Chadwick

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German and Scandinavian Protestantism 1700–1918

Nicholas Hope

Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford It furthers the University's objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Bangkok Buenos Aires Cape Town Chennai Dar es Salaam Delhi Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kolkata Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi São Paulo Shanghai Taipei Tokyo Toronto Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York © Nicholas Hope 1995 The moral rights of the authors have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published in paperback 1999 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data German and Scandinavian Protestantism, 1700–1918 / Nicholas Hope (Oxford history of the Christian Church) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Protestant churches—Germany—History. 2. Protestant churches— Scandinavia—History. 3. Lutheran Church—Germany—History. 4. Lutheran Church—Scandinavia—History. 5. Germany—Church history—18th century. 6. Scandinavia—Church history—18th century. 7. Germany—Church history—19th century. 8. Scandinavia— Church history—19th century. 9. Germany—Church history—20th century. 10. Scandinavia—Church history—20th century. I. Title. II. Series. BX4844.H66 1995 280'.4'094309033—dc20 95–12091 ISBN 0–19–826994–3

For Susse and Agnes and our family past and present, with love

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Preface On 24 June 1945 a declaration appeared in Copenhagen's Politiken, signed by Halfdan Høgsbro (1894–1976; bishop of Lolland and Falster 1950–64), director of Copenhagen's Pastoral College, and three other clergymen in the name of Danish parish clergy who had been officially appointed by the Danish Ministry of Social Affairs to look after roughly 240,000 German refugees, who were mainly from Lutheran East and West Prussia and Pomerania. This was a very large number (90,000 settled in greater Copenhagen alone) in a small Lutheran country (4.3 million) which had experienced Nazi occupation since April 1940. Høgsbro argued for the need to show compassion despite all that had happened under occupation; these refugees were not to be seen as ‘inferior’: they were mostly Lutheran countryfolk attached to home values and an old Christian and common Reformation tradition. How close and yet how far apart Lutheran Danes and Lutheran German neighbours were at this time. To write a history of German and Scandinavian Protestantism after 1945 without ire is hard. It is this old, poor, customary, contemplative, and unhurried, mainly Lutheran, churchscape of country and hometown Krähwinkel, defined by many German sixteenth-century local church orders and liturgies, and similar national church orders and liturgies in Lutheran Sweden and Denmark (the Dual Monarchies Sweden-Finland until 1809, and Denmark-Norway until 1814) which is the chief subject of this book. It survived the rise of modern economies after 1870, the First World War, and constitutional and social reorganization in the interwar period, only to be destroyed by German racial dictatorship, and by the course of a brutish Second World War at the end of which a displacement of parishioners on a colossal scale took place. Germany's Reformation churchscape and its iconography is no longer so easy to see today, despite the recent openingup of the heartland, Saxony and Thuringia, and central and eastern Europe. So

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many churches and parishes have been destroyed, and so much meaningful religious ritual has become redundant in our twentieth century. Who today understands the liturgical and social significance in Lutheran parishes of the two lengthy series of oil portraits hanging side by side in the nave of Stralsund's St Nicholas: the Pastores loci in cassocks wearing white ruffs, and, also in holy orders, the cantors in cassocks wearing white neckbands? ‘Deus praedicavit evangelium etiam per musicam’. It takes many pages to reach the semblance of modern times. During the writing of them there has been a constant sense of walking Tholuck's path. In order to understand why the Enlightenment (after c.1770) seemed to have such a destructive effect on the Lutheran church in his Puseyite times, Tholuck spent too much time, as a warm-hearted and pious Lutheran, on the bad old ‘Orthodox’ (meaning doctrinaire and statutory) Lutheran church in the period of consolidation (c.1550–1700) he so disliked, producing books—elegantly written and still very informative—which only took the story to 1750. But one can argue that Tholuck's slow progress was really governed by the structure and the ethos of Reformation church order which; as customary order, was more influential in shaping the Lutheran church of his generation than were the convenient keywords ‘Orthodoxy’, ‘Pietism’, and ‘Enlightenment’. The sources for this book warn the reader not to have too high an expectation of theology or politics as forces changing average Protestant churchmanship. Memory, a sense of belonging to the home parish, habit—also in the Reformed landscapes of western and southern Germany, and in the West and East Prussias as they were known after the first Polish partition in 1772—seem always to have proven stronger than political intervention or enlightenment. Frederick the Great and his like passed one church statute after another to little avail. If there was a saying which expressed a common awareness amongst Protestant senior and parish clergy in the age of Enlightenment that to enlighten was to take a long, dimly lit walk uphill (use of the verb was usually more frequent than that of the noun), it was the translation—‘Starke Wahrheiten vor schwachen Augen zu verbergen, ist wahre Menschenliebe und Gütigkeit’—by Moses Mendelssohn of ‘'Tis real Humanity and Kindness, to hide strong Truths from tender Eyes’, uttered in Sensus Communis: An

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Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour (1709) by the Anglican third earl of Shaftesbury: the author much loved by the enlightened German and Scandinavian Lutheran clergy generation represented by his translator, Spalding. His sentiments were: be not too zealous with the truth; learn to tolerate ingrained prejudice, credulity, habit; only so much can be done: be humane. Mendelssohn thought it good, too, for enlightened Berliners to read the Psalms which he translated from the original Hebrew and published in 1783 with this purpose in mind. We should remain very sceptical about an apologetics fashioned after 1870 to cope with modern crisis, meaning the effect of the secular city and Socialism on parishioners and churchgoing, by clergy and academic theologians confronted for the first time by more reliable statistical evidence. Visitation records and pastoral notes in the period covered by this book show that churchmanship as a voluntary act—the obligatory home parish enforcing use of its rites, attendance, and fees disappeared first after c.1860 when home parish fees for baptism, marriage, and burial, and residence requirements were abolished by state legislation in the national interest of better economic and labour organization—was never very good in country and town parishes. And yet a Protestant religious ethos, consisting of Lutheran and Reformed family prayers, hymn singing, ethical conduct taught by catechisms, and customary churchmanship in Reformation parishes, continued to shape the home and a local identity, despite modern migration patterns designed by a new capitalist economy. There is change too. Reformation church order, notably the liturgy in church, and prayer at home, developed gradually from a complex language and orthography. When this book begins, both still consisted of clerical Latin (the Classical languages and a little Hebrew were essential for appointment to a clergy living and preferment), Luther's robust and vivid soteriology, the Calvinist and Zwinglian vernacular of personal ethical conduct and predestination, and a division between an upper-class ‘high’ (often foreign) language, and parish dialect. A century later, a national ‘high’ language carrying less theological weight had appeared; one which was spread by the utilitarian statutory prose of central and local government, by its new schooling, and to some extent by the simpler prose of cheaply printed New Testaments and devotional books used by Protestant and Catholic lay awakenings. Church

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music supporting the liturgy changed accordingly. Nevertheless, clerical Latin was pushed aside only after c.1850. What cannot be recaptured by a historian is the essential living, developing nature of a ministry using the spoken word, song, and human touch in its liturgy of worship, its homiletics, and its pastoral care. Ink and print tell us very little about what this was like. It is certainly not my intention to convey the impression of a Protestant museum. Meaning is also often lost in translation. I have not always been easy on the English-speaking reader, though I have kept Finnish and Estonian to a minimum (these languages are so different). If the Crichtons, Murrays, and Spaldings were able to speak these languages fluently in an age where schooling was abysmal by modern standards, there is no reason why an English-speaking reader today should not reflect a little on what remains untranslated. What follows is a long exploratory essay rather than a textbook attempting a definitive view: much still needs to be done on themes which are commented upon in the Bibliography. My thorough bass is the clergy office, the liturgy of worship in church and home, and the pastoral care. There is little theology—there are plenty of much better guides in print—but I have tried to understand the theology inherent in churchmanship which is described here: Harnack's aside, told by his daughter, ‘we'll put the dogmatists under belles lettres’, which was allegedly heard by one of his theology students who helped him arrange his library at his new home in Giessen, should be treated as a little joke by a great patristic scholar who possessed a delightful sense of self-irony. It is important to keep a sense of place, though it is difficult to compare Sweden with say, little Schaumburg-Lippe, one amongst many local Protestant German churches which survived until 1918, and to be fair to all the churchscapes covered by this book's title. The chance to fly today in a line from Glasgow or London via Copenhagen and Stockholm to Helsinki, enables the traveller to see at a glance the problems involved in describing the diverse parish map of pastoral care in longitudinal Sweden, and in the Baltic region as a whole. The notional date 1770 dividing Parts I and II is used to emphasize the need to take seriously the mild reforming spirit of a generation of men of letters, clergy, and government ministers, who possessed an uncommon degree of humanitarian foresight in arguing and legislating for a church that tried to address the times in its order

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of service, in its preaching, and in pastoral work. There were extremes, naturally. My interpretation does not take a drastic view of Protestant German and Scandinavian churches in the nineteenth century: that they utterly failed to address the modern age. After 1815, this serious debate about how to give Reformation churches a modern ‘constitutional’ face continued; and after 1870, serious efforts were made to fashion pastoral care, liturgies, hymnbooks, and church music to suit parishes being changed by migration patterns and the modern urban division of labour. A marked feature, too, in the two decades before 1914, was the advance of various types of Protestant associational churchmanship like youth fellowship, and the involvement of parishioners in parish meetings, parish outings, and diacony of one kind or another. National Protestant histories which treat Reformation churches solely in national terms can be very misleading (TRE attempts to rectify this habit). Much was shared across boundaries as the following chapters hope to show. On the other hand, the identification of Reformation with princes seriously hampered the idea of ‘evangelical Catholicity’, implying that new Protestant national churches should not be recognized as divisions of the Christian church. Senior German and Scandinavian Lutheran clergy only began to meet at common conferences around 1900. The Swedish Primate, Anton Sundberg (1870–1900), a ‘high’ churchman, chose not to be at home when the Dean of Windsor, Randall Davidson (Archbishop of Canterbury 1903–28) and his wife visited Uppsala in August 1889—fearing also that his English was not sufficiently up to scratch for a serious exchange of views on Swedish Lutheranism and English Anglicanism. For necessary fieldwork in Uppsala, Aarhus, and Marburg an der Lahn, I am very grateful to the British Academy for generous financial support; I also owe a debt to Glasgow University for granting me leave of absence in pressing times. I owe much to Professor Ingun Montgomery and Dr Anders Bäckström for making my (and my family's) Uppsala summer vacation of 1982 such a refreshing and productive one in Villavägen and the theology faculty—also to Professor and Mrs Alf Härdelin and Dr Ragnar Norrman; to Professors Egil Johansson and Jan Sundin of the Demographic Data Base, University of Umeå, for much help on the social topography of the Swedish church; in Aarhus, especially to Dr Henning Lehmann and the staff of the theology faculty in both the summer vacation of 1981 and a spring term in 1983, and to two

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authorities in nineteenth-century Scandinavian church history, Professors P. G. Lindhardt and Anders Pontoppidan Thyssen; to Professor John Bergsagel of the Musikvidenskabeligt Institut of Copenhagen University for invaluable advice on Scandinavian church music; in Marburg an der Lahn, to Professor Heinz Liebing and Frau Margot Kraatz of the Kirchengeschichtliches Seminar, and to Dr Horst Chmielewski, chief librarian of the J. G. Herder Institut. I would also like to thank Professor Erik Amburger for sharing with me his knowledge of the Lutheran churches in the Russian Empire. Over the years I owe a large debt to two good friends: Angus Fowler, who knows more than most about Protestant churches in Germany which are classified today as either redundant or ancient monuments, and René Beerman, who has shared his unrivalled knowledge of Estonian and Latvian Lutheran culture; particularly the way that Roman law was understood as being a living code of personal conduct as much as law enforcement by statute. To librarians a special word of thanks for patiently procuring books from such a dispersed churchscape: to the Carolina Rediviva in Uppsala (where else today can one simply walk in, sign the admissions book, and move so easily from shelf to shelf?); to the Statsbiblioteket in Aarhus, and to Det Kongelige Bibliotek in Copenhagen; to the Universitätsbibliothek in Marburg, and especially the Mitteldeutsche Forschungsstelle of Marburg University's history department for permission to use its Saxon and Thuringian collections, and the Herder Institut for access to its splendid collection on Baltic (Estonia and Livonia until 1918) church history before the end of the Cold War (1989–91); finally, to the staff of the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel for advice on eighteenth-century printed material. In Britain, thanks are due to Lambeth Palace Library for permitting me to use its collections on the Scandinavian and Swedish Lutheran churches, and the Moravians; in Cambridge, to King's College Library for access to the Scandinavian collection of the linguist, John Heath, and to Trinity College Library for making available what must surely be one of the best collections of Vormärz German Protestantism anywhere—that of Julius Hare; to the librarians of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, for constant help over the years (also a belated thank you for access to the Mendelssohn manuscript collection in preparation for a programme on the rediscovery of Bach's St Matthew Passion produced for BBC2, Open

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University, by the late Alasdair Clayre in the autumn of 1970); to the librarians of the National Library, Edinburgh, and the British Library, London, for searching out rare eighteenth-century travelogues and liturgical books; and finally to the staff of the Inter-Library Loan department of Glasgow University Library who have diligently sought what I failed to find when abroad. I wish also to thank Professors Henrik Stenius and Matti Klinge, and Dr John Strömberg for inviting me to give two papers on aspects of my subject in the autumn of 1991 in the Renvall Institute of Historical Research, University of Helsinki, and Professor Janusz Mallek and his colleagues for an invitation to spend a week lecturing in the departments of history and law at the University of Toruń, and especially Dr Henryk Rietz for sharing with me once again his exemplary knowledge of the Enlightenment in Herder's Riga (and also Cassubian culture as relief after-hours). There is a certain charm, now that the ideological walls of our twentieth century have fallen, in the fact that Poles in Toruń University Library are looking after one of the best representative collections of the Lutheran church of the German Enlightenment, based largely on the holdings of Königsberg University library and Königsberg's city library, as diligently as are their counterparts over the water in Uppsala that of the Catholic church of the empire before 1632: that is finally to put into practice Thorn's Colloquium caritativum of 1645. N.H. 27 July 1994

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Contents List of Maps and Tables Abbreviations A Simple Chronology Part I. Consolidation Of Reformation Church Order and the Continuance Of Reform 1. Hard Times i. Prayer as Remembrance and Comfort ii. An Unsettled Extended Family of Reformation Church Orders iii. The Rite of Public Worship 2. Consolidation of a Protestant Canon of Prayer i. Prayer as the Practice of Piety ii. Printers and Editions iii. Reception of Anglican and Puritan Spirituality 3. Parish Crisis in a Credulous World i. The Baltic Region ii. Divine Intervention iii. Customary Observance iv. Propagation of the Gospel 4. The Political Parish and 1648 i. A Blind Official Eye to Parish Convention ii. The Home Parish and Simultaneous Arrangements 5. Government of the Church-State i. From Custodian to Sovereign ii. Absolutism and the Governance of a Reformation Church iii. Jus publicum and Jus ecclesiasticum protestantium 6. The Clergy i. A Training in Theology ii. Lutheran ‘Orthodoxy’ Fashioned by Hallesian Pietism and a German University Reformation of Manners c.1690–1730 iii. Training iv. Background

xix xx xxiv 3 3 9 17 21 21 29 34 41 41 43 45 49 55 55 60 72 72 74 83 99 99 101 106 113

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7. Cura Animarum Specialis: The Pastoral Office i. The Practice of Piety ii. Anglican, Puritan, and Dutch Reformed Influence iii. Philipp Jakob Spener (1635–1705) and August Hermann Francke (1663–1727) 8. Reform i. Visitation ii. Land and People, Propagation of the Gospel, and a Reformation of Manners iii. Pietism as a Post-War Official Programme iv. The Catholic Christian Year in Church and Home v. A New Interest in the Shape of the Liturgy vi. Church Architecture: From Latin Choir to Congregational Nave vii. Church Music: From Gregorian to Ambrosian 9. Towards an Apostolic Congregation in Church and Home i. Spirituality ii. A Plain Person's Daily Devotional Exercise: Halle and Württemberg iii. Denmark-Norway and Sweden-Finland iv. Homiletic Reform v. Hymns Part II. Piety, Enlightenment? Religious Awakening, Rediscovery (c.1763–1918) Introduction 10. The Larger Whole 11. Herrnhut i. Etiquette and Experiment ii. After 1750 12. The Parish and the Office of the Clergy i. The Unchanging Historic Parish ii. The Lutheran Office Revisited 13. Liturgical Reform: The End of the Established Church i. A Modern Liturgy? ii. Suitable Liturgical Music? iii. A Modern Sermon?

120 120 122 131 147 147 149 154 165 167 172 181 187 187 189 194 198 206 217 226 238 238 247 256 256 267 281 281 294 296

CONTENTS

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

iv. Renovation of Churches v. End of the Established Church: Denmark-(Norway), Sweden-(Finland), Prussia A Constitutional Reformation Church Order? i. New Boundaries and Parishioners ii. The Reformation Family of Church Orders Reshaped iii. Sweden, Prussia, and Bavaria a. Sweden b. Prussia c. Bavaria Awakening i. Pastoral Failure ii. Preaching and Prayer iii. Timing and Geography a. Denmark and Norway b. Sweden and Finland c. Livonia and Estonia d. Bavaria and Württemberg e. Prussia Charity i. The Gradual End of Home-Parish Benevolence ii. A Mix of Enlightened and Moravian Charity iii. Saving Children iv. Diacony v. Innere Mission Rediscovery i. Partial Rediscovery of the Lutheran Sung Liturgy ii. Reformation Hymns and Bach's Choral Works iii. Early Christian or High Gothic Parish Churches? iv. Lutheran Religious Articles and Luther's Formula Missae v. Neo-Lutheran Churchscapes Church and (Nation-) State (1840–1890) i. Transregional Protestant Gatherings and Discussion about the Constitutional Position of Protestant Churches ii. Constitutional Provision at ‘National’ Level a. Germany b. Scandinavia iii. Protestant Self-Government in German Lands Numbers of Clergy and the Pastoral Care i. Protestant German Religious Statistics

xvii 298 300 316 316 325 333 333 336 348 354 354 362 367 369 372 378 381 388 400 400 403 406 409 413 420 420 427 433 439 442 456 456 463 463 468 481 497 497

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ii. Scandinavia iii. Clergy Background and Recruitment 20. Reformation Churches and a Modern Protestant Moral Order i. Pastoral Crisis ii. The Legacy of Custodianship: Evangelism and Good Works in Conflict iii. Albrecht Ritschl (1822–1889) and his Practical Theology iv. A Pastorate for Modern Times v. A Suitable Protestant Congregational Liturgy, Church Music, and Church Architecture Epilogue i. A Fragile Modern Protestant Church Order ii. War and Hard Times Again iii. Zusammenbruch (Collapse) Bibliography Index

508 512 521 521 529 540 543 552 569 569 584 602 612 669

List of Maps and Tables Maps 1. 2. 3.

Germany in 1800 Scandinavia/Baltic Expanded Prussia in 1867

212–3 214–5 458–9

Tables 10.1 14.1 19.1 19.2 19.3 19.4 19.5

Swedish and Finnish Dioceses in 1817 New Constitutional Arrangements of Protestant and Catholic Churches in Germany before 1848 Protestant Population in German States in 1862 Old Prussia Province by Province Incumbents Clergyman/Parishioner Ratio Clergy per 100,000 Inhabitants

232 317 499 501 509 509 510

Abbreviations Note Abbreviations follow the index in TRE, 2nd edn. (1994). To find the full reference for one of the footnotes to the text, see the page numbers after the name of the author in the index, which will give in italic the appropriate page of the Bibliography. Most Swedish books have summaries in English, French, and German. Lower case is usually used for Scandinavian nouns. I have kept German place-names in the Baltic area, though the map obviously changed, in both 1918 and 1990. Germany ADB BKGD BfPKG BSKG BWKG DJVK EKL EOK Grimm HZ IPO JBBKG JLH KO LTK MGG MGKK

Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie Beiträge zur Kirchengeschichte Deutschlands Blätter für pfälzische Kirchengeschichte und religiöse Volkskunde Beiträge zur sächsischen Kirchengeschichte Blätter für württembergische Kirchengeschichte Deutsches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde Evangelisches Kirchenlexikon Evangelischer Ober-Kirchenrat (Berlin) J and W. Grimm (eds.), Deutsches Wörterbuch (Leipzig, 1854; repr. 1954) Historische Zeitschrift Instrumentum Pacis Osnabrugense Jahrbuch für Berlin-Brandenburgische Kirchengeschichte Jahrbuch für Liturgie und Hymnologie Kirche im Osten Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart Monatsschrift für Gottesdienst und kirchliche Kunst

ABBREVIATIONS

NDB RDK RE RGG2 RGG3 SHKG SSHKG ThLZ TRE WA ZbKG ZfK ZfO ZfV ZGNKG ZKG ZSSRGkA ZTh ZThK

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Neue Deutsche Biographie Reallexikon der deutschen Kunstgeschichte Realencyclopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche, 3rd edn. (1896–1913) Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart 2nd edn. (1927–32) Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 3nd edn. (1957–65) Schleswig-Holsteinische Kirchengeschichte Schriften des Vereins für Schleswig-Holsteinische Kirchengeschichte Theologische Literaturzeitung Theologische Realencyklopädie (1977–) (Weimarer Ausgabe), D. Martin Luthers Werke, ed. J. C. F. Knaake (Weimar, 1883–) Zeitschrift für bayerische Kirchengeschichte Zeitschrift für Kirchenrecht Zeitschrift für Ostforschung Zeitschrift für Volkskunde Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Niedersächsische Kirchengeschichte Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, kanonistische Abteilung Zeitschrift für Theologie Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

Courland, Estonia, Livonia (Until 1918) BH BHO BKELK BM DZT Inland

Baltische Hefte (Hanover, 1954–77) H. von der Mühlen (ed.) Baltisches Historisches Ortslexikon, (Cologne, 1985–90), i. Estonia, ii. Latvia Beiträge zur Kunde Ehst-, Liv-, und Kurlands (Reval, [Tallinn], 1868–1938) Baltische Monatsschrift (Riga/Reval, 1859–1931) Dorpater Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche (Dorpat [Tartu], 1859–74) Das Inland: Wochenschrift für Liv-, Est- und Kurlands

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ABBREVIATIONS

Geschichte, Geographie, Statistik und Literatur (Dorpat, 1836–63) K&O T. Kallmeyer and G. Otto, Die evangelischen Kirchen und Prediger Kurlands, 2nd edn. (Riga, 1910) OL M. Ottow and W. Lenz (eds.), Die evangelischen Prediger Livlands bis 1918 (Cologne and Vienna, 1977) Paucker H. R. Paucker, Ehstlands Geistlichkeit in geordneter Zeit- und Reihenfolge (Reval, 1849) Recke-Napiersky J. F. von Recke and K. E. Napiersky (eds.), Allgemeines Schriftsteller- und Gelehrten-Lexikon der Provinzen Livland, Esthland und Kurland 4 vols. (Mitau [Jelgava], 1827–32) and Supplements, 2 vols. (Mitau, 1859–61) Sv.E Svio-Estonica. Årsbok (Tartu, Uppsala, Lund) SBGEG Sitzungsberichte der gelehrten estnischen Gesellschaft zu Dorpat (Dorpat/Tartu, 1861–1938) VGEG Verhandlungen der gelehrten estnischen Gesellschaft zu Dorpat (Dorpat/Tartu, 1840–1940) Scandinavia BL DBL DK DTT FSÅ FSH KhS KK KLN Kå NBL NTT SBL SEHR SLSÅ STK

Biografiskt lexicon (Uppsala, 1835–57) Dansk biografisk leksikon 3rd edn. (1979–83) Dansk Kirkeliv medens tiderne skifter (1924–) Dansk teologisk tidsskrift (1938–) Finska kyrkohistoriska samfundets Årsskrift (1911–) Finska kyrkohistoriska handlingar (1895–) Kirkehistoriske Samlinger (Copenhagen, 1849–) Kirke og kultur (Oslo, 1894–) Kirke-Leksikon for Norden, ed. F. Nielsen (Aarhus, 1900–29) Kyrkohistorisk årsskrift (Uppsala 1900–) Norsk biografisk leksikon (1923–) Norsk teologisk tidsskrift (1901–) Svenskt biografiskt lexikon (1917–) Scandinavian Economic History Review Svenska Linné-Sällskapets årsskrift Svensk teologisk kvartalskrift (1924–)

ABBREVIATIONS

SvMK TT TTK

Svensk män och kvinnor: biografisk uppslagsbok (1942–55) Teologisk tidskrift (Uppsala 1860–) Tidsskrift for teologi og kirke (1930–)

General DDC EJ ESK JEH JEEH JMH SPCK SPG Tit.

Dictionnaire de droit canonique, ed. R. Naz (Paris, 1935–) Encyclopaedia Judaica (Jerusalem 1971–) Evangelisch-Soziale Kongress Journal of Ecclesiastical History Journal of European Economic History Journal of Modern History Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge Society for the Propagation of the Gospel Tituliert

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A Simple Chronology

Germany Livonia & Estonia 1648 IPO (within Catholic Empire 1710–1918 German baronial selfuntil 1806) govt. within Russian Empire1

Scandinavia Sweden-Finland and DenmarkNorway until separation (1809, 1814) Danish Law Code 1683, Rite 1685 Swedish Church Law 1686, Servicebook 1693

1701 Kingdom of Prussia; Halle Institutes 1695–1730 1722 Herrnhut village 1726–92 Frauenkirche, Trinity, Kreuzkirche, Annenkirche built in Dresden 1752 Church Orders (16th c.) 352 counted 1772 Sweden Karlstad, Härnösand, Visby made bishoprics Swedish censorship 1686–1766; Danish censorship until 1772 (1799–1849, Press Law) 1786 ‘Liturgy’ a teaching subject Three Polish Partitions 1772–95 c.1780–1850 religious toleration, liturgical revision, poor relief acts, and a religious awakening Codification (Prussian Code 1794) and constitutional reform (first church constitutions) after c.18002 Finland Grand Duchy in Russian Empire 1809–1917 Union Sweden and Norway 1814–1905 Baltic provinces subject to 1832 Law for Lutheran Churches in Russian Empire 1835 Silesian Lutheran emigration; Rhine-Wesphalian Church Order 1842–80 Restoration of Cologne Cathedral, and the Marienburg 1844; Prussian ‘curator’ of ancient monuments 1843

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1848–9 Frankfurt Parliament; Wittenberg Kirchentag; Innere Mission national committee 1850 Leipzig Bach Society; Prussian EOK (Berlin) 1852–1918 Eisenach annual June church conference Establishment of synodal frameworks c.1860–90 1861 Eisenacher Regulativ (NeoGothic division Choir and Nave)

Danish June Constitution 1849, Danish Folkekirke

First Nordic church meetings, 1857, 1859, 1861 Sweden, 1858 abolition of 1726 Conventicle Act; Ecclesiastical Council 1863 (opens 1868); first bicameral Riksdag 1865–73

First Protestant German religious statistics (1862) published 1865 1866–71 German Unification (Hanover, Electoral Hesse, Frankfurt, Nassau, Schleswig-Holstein incorporated in Prussian Landeskirchen); 39 German Landeskirchen 1871–19184 Kulturkampf 1871–87 1875 Civil Register Office Further liturgical revision, and an urban pastoral reform movement after 1890 ESK (Evangelisch-Soziale Kongress) 1891 Wiesbadener Programm (revision favouring congregational nave) 1900 Bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (Civil Code) 1890–1914 Church tax legislation

1910 Irrlehregesetz (Heresy Law)

1864 loss of Danish Duchies Finland, Church Law 1869

c.1880

1896 Copenhagen Church Fund 1903 Danish church legislation (Church Tax) Sweden, 1904 Luleå & Härnösand separate dioceses; 1913 Kalmar linked with Växjö Sweden, 1910 clergy stipends regulation

1914 (August) First World War, Germany belligerent; Scandinavia neutral 1917 Codex juris canonici (Whitsun) Russian Revolution (February, October) 1917 (19 Apr.) anti-Jesuit Law 1917 Finland independent republic (1872) repealed (6 Dec.); Sweden first ecumenical conference Uppsala (14 Dec.) 1918 Republican church legislation and disestablishment (Nov. onwards); official abdication by emperor (28 Nov.)

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1

2 3

4

CHRONOLOGY

Swedish rule in Estonia (since 1595), Ingria (since 1617), and Livonia (since 1621). Sweden's Church Law (1686) coexisted with Reval and Riga German (16th c.) church orders until the Russian imperial law for its Lutheran churches (1832); the Swedish service-book (1693) remained in use alongside the German Lutheran rite until 1805. Courland with its German church order (16th c.) became a Duchy in 1737, and a Baltic province in 1795. See Table 14.1 The Swedish clergy's privileged status secured by successive clergy ‘privileges’ (notably 1723) as one of four estates in parliament was abolished by parliamentary reform (1865–6). See Chapter 18.

Part I Consolidation of Reformation Church Order and the Continuance of Reform

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1 Hard Times I. Prayer as Remembrance and Comfort If you had visited St Michael, the parish church of the Swedish Lutheran congregation at Reval (Tallinn) in the Estonian republic, before 1939, you might have noticed on the east side of the first pillar facing the west entrance, a simple oblong grey marble memorial tablet, thirty by twenty-four inches, topped by an oval wooden plaque. On the latter, Death with scythe and hour-glass sat above the sentence, Der Tod heilt alle Noht (Death heals every need), and the following verse: Steh Wandersmann und lies an diesen Stein die plagen, Die sechszehnhundert zwey das Vaterland gedrückt, Am End des seculi betraf uns gleiches Klagen, Weil da der Hunger auch viel tausend hingerückt, Da diese gute Stadt bey tausend hier gespeiset, Und ihr auf ewig hat ein Denkmahl aufgericht: Der Segen ist der Lohn, den Gott dafür verheiset, Drum Leser, eh du gehst, vergis der Armen nicht. (Pause here, O Traveller, and read on this stone the misfortune which afflicted our country in 1602. At the end of the century we suffered a similar affliction because many thousands died of starvation. At that time this magnanimous city fed about a thousand people: a deed which will make people remember it for all time. God rewards such actions with his blessing: that is why you who read this should remember the poor before you go on your way.) The verse was written by the steward of the infirmary, Christoffer Schwabe (St Michael was the early sixteenth-century infirmary chapel dedicated to St John before it was handed over to Reval's Swedish congregation in 1733), after he had restored below it the marble tablet commemorating the great Estonian and Livonian famine of 1602. He had found the tablet embedded in the floor, surprisingly enough in 1697, another year of widespread famine in

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the Swedish provincial dioceses of Estonia and Livonia. The marble tablet of 1602 read: Anno sechszehnhundert vnd zwei In Liefland war ein gros Geschrei, Der Krieck, Hunger und schedliche Pest Den Leuten gar gefehr gewest. Für Hunger ein dem andern frass Die Katzen, Hund ihr Wiltpret was Auch gros verherung levt und lant Geschehen ist durch Gottes hant. So thut er der sunden wehren, Wenn man sich nit bald wil bekeren, Ohn unterlas darumb thut heut Von hertzen bus, o lieben leut Gedenket offt an dis geschicht, Und haltet solchs for kein geticht. (In the year 1602 there was a great upheaval in Livonia. War, hunger, and pestilence endangered the people. They were so ravenously hungry they ate each other's cats, and hunted dogs like game. God's hand devastated the people of the land. This is how He checks sin, if people refuse to repent. Therefore, O dear people, do penance constantly with your whole heart, think often of this story, and do not regard it as a poetic invention.1) Both verses, in the German of the period, ask the visitor to pause for a moment; to offer a prayer of thanksgiving for the precious gift of life after reflection upon these calamities; to make atonement; to have faith in God's saving grace, and to remember the poor. They express Lutheran spirituality in the hard times which beset parishioners throughout the Baltic region in the thirty-year period 1690–1720. Famine caused by bad weather and poor harvests, resultant outbreaks of epidemic disease such as dysentery and typhoid fever, visitations of bubonic plague, and warfare, which had decimated the population of Estonia and Livonia in 1602, returned in as severe a form at the end of the century. Perhaps 20 per cent died during the great famine of 1695–7; over 60 per cent as a result of the plague in 1710. To these crude percentages should be added those who perished during the course of the Great Northern War

1

St Michael was destroyed by bombs in the Second World War. Arent Passer, who composed the verse of 1602, was probably the sculptor who fashioned the grave for the Swedish Count Pontus de la Gardie in Reval cathedral. Nottbeck and Neumann, Kunstdenkmäler der Stadt Reval ii. 118–19; Liiv, Suur näljaaeg Eestis 1695–1697, 100–1.

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(1700–21). The immensity of this suffering, which Lutheran parish clergy noted as defying plausible description in parish registers and chronicles, produced a sombre piety. This looked to the Old Testament, to texts such as Jeremiah 9: 22, or those from minor prophets such as Haggai 1: 6, and to consolation through private prayer, or comfort in collectively reciting the official prayers and litany ordained by the Swedish king on special days of penance and intercession.2 Prayers had to be formulated for every need and occasion. The constantly repeated act of common prayer in church, or at family prayers, was the way parishioners came to terms with their grief. Here are the rubrics for prayers offering comfort in these difficult times which Johann Wilcken, vicar (1676–1710) of the Estonian country parish of Kegel (Keila), had written down and interleaved in his prayer-book: ‘A Prayer to be read in times of dearth and famine; a Prayer for the suffering Christian who is starving to death; a Prayer offering comfort for those in bodily poverty; a Prayer for poor and forsaken domestics; a Prayer for poor widows and orphans in times of dearth; Thanksgiving for the merciful prevention of dearth and famine; a Prayer to be offered in times of protracted flood; a Prayer to be offered in times of drought; a Prayer for warm sunshine; a Prayer for the prospering of all the fruits of the land; a Prayer for a good harvest’.3 These simple headings reflect the Lutheran parish clergy's serious pastoral dedication to the alleviation of distress caused by natural disaster which fell upon their parishioners with a random suddenness, the unexpectedness of which was all the more frightening because disaster was localized in the extent of its severity. After Estonia, the northern part of Livonia, and Ingria, the great famine of 1695–7 was severest in the northern and north-eastern provinces of Sweden. A quarter of Finland's population may have perished. Parish church bells cracked because they tolled for the dead almost without pause.4 Pastoral care using prayer's comforting psychology was seen as essential, since local government of the early modern state, however well intentioned, simply broke down because of the scale of this distress. Individual disorientation, personal fears, and family grief had

2

Kelch, Lieflandische Historia: Continuation 1690–1707, ii. 44–5, 47–8. ‘Allmänne store Bönedagar’, ‘Allgemeine Buß-, Fast- und Bet-Tagen’, 1686 års Kyrkolag; Kirchen Gesetz und Ordnung 1686/7, ch. 2 § 3. ‘The Litany should be prayed at least once a week’, ch. 12 § 2.

3

Liiv, 60.

4

Jutikkala, ‘The Great Finnish Famine in 1696–97’, SEHR, 3 (1955), 59.

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to be stilled by the intimate act of private and common prayer in a world where parishioners feared the supernatural in the shape of demons, spooks, and portents of disaster. In a natural order divided equally in popular imagination by the healing properties of saints in the Catholic calendar contained in almanacs, and local pagan folklore, natural disaster exaggerated individual religious fantasy, and was seen as divine intervention and retribution for parochial wickedness. If examples of Old Testament retribution were held as mirrors before parishioners, prayer in church and at home offered the New Testament's comfort of Christ's saving grace. One of the amendments made in 1691 to Sweden's Church Law of 1686 to suit local Estonian and Livonian parishes prescribed that one or two staff employed by all manors should pray aloud in the morning, at noon, and in the evening for its domestic staff and labourers. This common act of prayer thus also served to keep alive folk memory, where experience was handed down by word of mouth. In this way, the memory of the troubled late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in the Baltic region continued to colour parish piety until c.1870.5 In Sweden-Finland, and in Estonia and Livonia, most prayer- and service-books which included prayers to alleviate distress caused by famine, plague, and war, printed during the seventeenth century, were reprinted frequently during the Great Northern War. Demand grew rapidly too for those German and English Puritan prayer-books, which contained specialized prayers for troubled times. They reminded Swedish, Estonian, Latvian, Danish, and German parishioners that their calamities were the common experience of previous generations. The preface to the Swedish translation (1699) of the Augsburg clergyman, Joshua Wegelin's (1604–40) Hand-, Land-, und Stand-Büchlein (1637), a prayer-book much loved in Sweden, emphasized how prayer, offered in times of famine, rising prices, and war, gave comfort by showing the common aspect of suffering and need. In this way, the calamities of Augsburg in the Thirty Years' War were shared by suffering Swedish parishioners in 1700. A similar note was struck in the preface to the Swedish second

5

‘Bey alle Höfe Einen oder Zwey verordnen, die des Morgens, Mittags, und Abends für die einfältigen Dienst- und Arbeitsleute dienliche Gebete vorbeten können’, Buddenbrock, ii/2. 1648. ‘Das Hunger-Kummer-Fest in Riga’, Inland (1850), 645–6; Liiv, 100. The famine was still alive in Estonian popular memory in 1939, ibid. documents 330–55. Vanasti, ‘in days of old’, meant the recurrence of bad harvests and famine before the 1860s, ibid. document 337.

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edition (1710) of the prayer-book authorized in 1595 by Elector Johann Georg of Brandenburg (1571–98).6 Taken as a whole, the devotional literature for use in church and at home in Scandinavia and Germany in the early eighteenth century was formulated to cope with calamity and sudden death. The popularity of devotional books exhibited an urgently felt need for adequate spiritual preparation and comfort. The intellectual and emotional colour of these special prayers and meditations, as well as their imagery, was taken wholesale from the late-medieval devotio moderna editions of St Augustine, prayers attributed to him, St Bernard, and St Thomas à Kempis, as well as the major Jesuit writers of the late sixteenth century. Editions of Thomas à Kempis's Imitation, translated into Swedish (1663), could be found in one of the first official consignments of devotional books sent in 1704 to Swedish settlers in America. It continued to be listed in inventories of many personal estates in northern Swedish provinces between 1700 and c.1820.7 This was Christian devotion which was mystical, prophetic, and apocalyptic. The dark and sinful world of man was contrasted with the soul's release into the heavenly city. God had come to judge the sins of the Swedish people in the Great Northern War as He had those of the Israelites. Sweden's senior and lower clergy were united in their preoccupation with adequate spiritual preparation. Swedish sermons during the war, particularly those on official days of penance and intercession, repeatedly stressed the need for true repentance and moral regeneration. Jesper Svedberg (1655–1735), Swedenborg's father, bishop of Skara after 1702, spoke of one of the sanest deeds a parishioner might do, as to take time to meditate on the hour of death. Johann Friedrich Mayer (1650–1712), senior of St James, Hamburg (1687–1701) and general superintendent of Swedish Pomerania (1701–12), who advised Charles XII on his severe anti-Pietist legislation, also stressed in his Biblical Calendar, which he had printed for the use of his Hamburg parishioners (translated into Swedish in 1696), the value of putting aside a day each week to meditate and reflect on the hour of one's death. Death was the same, whether it came on the field of battle or at home, and it applied to all, regardless of social rank. The act of common prayer, especially

6

Lindquist, Svenska andaktslitteraturen, 202–5, 284 passim. The Brandenburg prayer-book, ibid. 56–7.

7

Ibid. 422–4.

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for those who could not pray for themselves, was an essential act of preparation, since prayer and meditation overcame the sudden and uncertain.8 Regularity was provided by the imagery of the medieval canonical hours (horologia spiritualia). The striking of the hour was a reminder that one had come an hour closer to death; grace after meals brought the family a mealtime closer to death. Most prayer-books of this period also included prayers on the wisdom of making one's will. It was a reflection of a return of the late-medieval fear of an unlucky death if the parishioner had not prepared adequately with confession and communion. Hence the importance of the litany and its constantly repeated responses found for example in the Swedish service-book (1693), and the inclusion of those Lutheran hymns in German and Scandinavian hymn-books of this period that reflected Luther's medieval horror of death, or morning and evening hymns filled with a suitable language to combat the fear of spooks at night or the many evil happenings during the day. A very introspective and personal devotional literature for home consumption prepared the troubled, sick, or dying parishioner step by step. Prayer-books specifically written for confession, communion, and as ars moriendi, were printed in large quantities.9 If the world was bitter, heaven was sweet. An optimistic frame of mind was instilled by a love of Jesus. The early eighteenth century saw a visible increase in prayer and devotional books with sensual imagery related to St Bernard's idea of a mystical union with Jesus. Prayer as meditation on the Last Supper and Christ's Passion became optimistic in its emphasis on the Christian's reconciliation with Christ. Jesus's name was honey-sweet: He was there on retiring to bed, and He was frequently the bridegroom who searched for a fellow virginal soul with whom He might consummate a heavenly marriage.10 This renewed interest in a prayer theme associated with Jesus, the Sacred Heart, and the sacramental piety of the Stations of the Cross and the Crucifixion thus complemented surviving similar Catholic iconography such as murals, pictures painted on the ends of pews and sides of galleries in many medieval town and country parish

8

‘Widh hwadh skal sigh en fattigh Menniskia trösta, som uthi pestilens tider för sitt kall och embete icke kan undfly, uthan mäste bliffua och the siuka sköta och döda begraffua?’ in: Een lijten Tröstebook emoot then timelige Dödhen, Lindquist, 285.

9

Liedgren, Svensk psalm, 461 passim, 472. Lindquist, 361 passim, 378.

10

Ibid. 396–7, 402, 410.

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churches. Some Pietist patrons continued this tradition after 1700, and this can be seen today in Nørup parish church in central Jutland near Vejle. Gerhard de Lichtenberg (1697–1764; ennobled 1735), a wealthy son of a local Horsens business family who used his wealth to become a noted local patron of the arts, and who was the new owner of the manor, Engelsholm (1732–54), ordered an allegory depicting the Sacred Heart (painted an almost lewd red, with Divine Grace, Naade, being represented by the rays of the sun—how often this optimistic motif appears in Pietist and Moravian iconography!), and the Virtues and Vices to be painted on pew doors and the pulpit during necessary renovation in 1732–3. The Lutheran vernacular canon of prayer and its imagery in the first half of the eighteenth century was as much an heir to the pre-Reformation church and the Catholic Counter-Reformation as it was to Luther and subsequent Reformers.

II. An Unsettled Extended Family of Reformation Church Orders A simple religious topography might introduce the variety of Reformation church orders in Germany and Scandinavia which provides the arbitrary, complex, and controversial institutional framework set out in this book. Making sense of such complexity caused many Lutheran senior clergy to throw up their hands in despair. Johann Leonhard Fröreissen (d. 1761), the senior (1741–52) of Strasburg's New Church and chairman (1731–61) of the city's convocation (Kirchenkonvent), likened in his rectoral address (1743) to the university, German Lutheran churches belonging to the Augsburg Confession to a dismembered worm whose wriggling bits were able to continue a pitiable life for a while before succumbing to the inevitable process of decay; either the Reformers should have kept the episcopal system, as Lutheran Sweden and Denmark had done, or they should have put the entire Reformation church under a general consistory.11 It was possible only after the Treaty of Osnabrück in 1648 to use the terms ‘Protestant’ and ‘Evangelical’ to mean two politically and legally distinct religious parties (Lutherans and the Reformed) affiliated to the Augsburg Confession, and to acknowledge three

11

Fröreissen, De misero Ecclesiae Augustanae Confessioni addictae permultis in locis statu (1743), cited Johann Adam, Evangelische Kirchengeschichte der Stadt Strassburg, 463–4.

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established religious denominations (Catholics, Lutherans, and Reformed) under imperial public law. This legal fiction was superimposed on a capricious map fashioned by the Jus reformandi of princes and town magistrates guaranteed the existence of many local German Protestant churches (Landeskirchen) until 1918, and it tacitly acknowledged a Lutheran established church in the twin monarchies, Sweden-Finland and Denmark-Norway, before they were separated politically in 1809 and 1814. Thereafter, Lutheranism continued as the established religion of four emergent modern nations, Sweden, Denmark (including Iceland until 1918), Norway (linked to Sweden 1814–1905), and Finland, known collectively today as ‘Scandinavia’. After 1648, German Reformation church order fitted into the Catholic empire's irregular political geometry, kept in place by an intricate system of legal safeguards which preserved the Jus territorii et superioritatis of the Catholic Habsburg emperor's estates, and the religious division of Germany as it happened to be on 1 January 1624. Lutheran and Reformed Germany continued, therefore, to be governed by church orders issued by princes and city magistrates in the sixteenth century. These spoke the language of patriarchy rather than contract until they were gradually replaced by new ‘constitutional’ arrangements following political readjustment in the momentous three decades 1790–1820. Yet, the spirit of this Lutheran pre-contractual order survived in local churches until 1918. No Protestant German national church emerged to take its place alongside the Anglican church of the Restoration in 1660 with its Book of Common Prayer (1662), or, bearing the framework of this book in mind, the Danish Lutheran church shaped by absolute Danish Law (Danske Lov, 1683) and its national Rite (1685), and the Swedish Lutheran church defined by her Caroline Church Law (1686) and service-book (1693).12 A predominantly Catholic southern Germany, which included Lutheran provinces such as Franconia, and Catholic imperial cities such as Nuremberg and Augsburg holding sizeable Lutheran populations, bordered on the Catholic Habsburg empire. A mix of urban and rural Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed lands in south-western and western Germany straddling the rivers Rhine and Main, faced Catholic France and the Reformed Netherlands. Northern Germany

12

In Sweden, the service-book (1693) was replaced by revised successors in 1811, 1894, and 1917.

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was basically Lutheran. Exceptions consisted of Catholic enclaves important to the distribution of religious power within the empire, such as the Catholic sees of Paderborn, Münster, Cologne, Hildesheim, and Osnabrück (Frederick the Great, with this plenitude of religious power in mind, called Prince Clemens August Wittelsbach, elector and archbishop of Cologne (1723–61) who accumulated these sees during 1719–28, ‘Monsieur des cinq églises’); Catholic Polish and Lithuanian parishes in the western and eastern parts of Prussia; and Reformed congregations, who had settled both in the sixteenth century and after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685) in the countryside and towns of the new Prussian kingdom (1701) of Brandenburg-Prussia, at Frankfurt on the river Main, and in states such as neighbouring northern Hesse and Nassau. North-western Germany, the clutch of lands known collectively as either the new Electorate of Hanover (1692) or Lower Saxony, the lower Rhine, Frisia, and Bremen also contained sizeable Reformed enclaves open to Dutch Reformed influence. Central Germany, the Thuringian and Saxon heartland of the Lutheran Reformation, and the Lutheran part of Silesia faced in the east the Catholic Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth, which was the third largest country in Europe (after Russia and France) before three partitions (1772–95); and in the south, the Bohemian part of the Habsburg empire. The religious map of Protestant Germany in the period covered by this book was divided doctrinally and liturgically between a Lutheran north and east, and a Reformed west and south-west. Division followed the consolidation of related extended families of Reformation church orders and liturgies in the century c.1550–1650 as local church lawbooks. When religious peace came in 1648, many were cheaply reprinted. Denmark-Norway and Sweden-Finland had simpler Reformation maps. These were shaped by a conservative Reformation's preservation of a Catholic medieval diocesan and parochial framework, by northern Germany's conservative Lutheran church orders, and, especially in Sweden's case, by the survival of an episcopal church similar to the Anglican church, and by doctrinal uniformity fashioned by the great church assembly convened at Uppsala in 1593 as the surest defence against the advance of the Polish Counter-Reformation. Northern Sweden, though, remained an outback until the dawn of the railway and telegraph. The huge diocese of

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Härnösand elevated at a time of consolidation (1772) from a superintendency to a bishopric along with Karlstad and Visby super-intendencies was divided into the bishoprics of Härnösand and Luleå first in 1904. As national churches Sweden-Finland and Denmark-Norway remained exclusively Lutheran, demanding, in the language of late seventeenth-century divine right and religious uniformity until its atrophy in the decade 1850–60, an unconditional loyalty to the Lutheran dynasty, church and country. An abundance of written and spoken oaths (Løfte, Eeder) were an intrinsic feature of church government in Denmark-Norway.13 Until 1750 there was a sense of doctrinal embattlement in both Scandinavia and Germany. In the latter, this was fashioned on the one hand by the conversion of the Prussian Hohenzollern house to Calvinism in 1613 and by its openness to Calvinist settlement, and on the other by the advance of the Counter-Reformation under Habsburg, Bourbon, and Polish patronage. Officially, the Reformation's consolidation was seen as very uncertain for most of the eighteenth century. Fear of a Reconquista was especially strong in south-western Germany which faced Catholic France: in Baden, Württemberg, Alsace, and the Rhine Palatinate which mixed Lutheran and Reformed parishes; also in both western Reformed and eastern Lutheran provinces of Prussia (the old duchy of Prussia run formerly by the Teutonic Knights); in Lutheran Saxony under a Catholic elector (since 1697), and in Silesia, which shared a common frontier with Catholic Poland and Habsburg territories. An overanxious Lutheran conformity shaped by theological polemics (the more abusive the better) in university lecture theatres and in the pulpits of parish churches, directed as much against the alleged advance of Calvinism as it was against Catholicism, was omnipresent in this churchscape. A typical example was the public row which continued until the end of the Great Northern War (1721) in Swedish Pomerania over the inclusion of Calvinists in the refutation of religious opponents (Elenchus), an insertion into the rubric of public prayers on official days of penance and intercession,14

13

Ussing, Kirkeforfatningen, (1789), iv/2. 614, 632, 656.

14

Namely, ‘Behüte uns für den Greueln des Türcken und allem abgöttischen Wesen. Steure denen höchst–verderblichen Ketzereyen der Papisten, Photinianer, Calvinisten, und ihres gleichen mehr, auch dem heimlichen Gift derer unter dem Namen der Friedliebenden herumschleichenden Syncretisten, und in Suma allen denen, so die reine Lehre deines heilsahmen Worts zu verfälschen, zu unterdrücken, oder gar zu vertilgen suchen’, J. H. Balthasar, Einiger zur Pommerischen Kirchen-Historie gehörigen Schriften, Andere Sammlung (Greifswald, 1725), ii. 752–6, 769–74.

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introduced during the Thirty Years' War by local Lutheran super-intendents fearful of the advance of neighbouring Calvinist Brandenburg-Prussia. Two other prominent examples were the championship of Charles XII of Sweden as a new Messiah by Lutheran Silesians at the time of the Peace of Altranstädt (1706), and common Protestant indignation at the treatment of Thorn's magistracy by the Jesuit order in 1724. This mood produced post-Reformation history written up as theological controversy.15 Symptomatic too, was the office of Censor librorum (1686–1766) run by Stockholm's consistory and the nearby theology faculty of Uppsala University, the academic arm of the archdiocesan chapter, and a similar Danish censorship run by Copenhagen University's theology faculty (1683–1772), and its renewal (1790) as a Draconian press-law, which remained in force until the end of the Danish absolute monarchy in 1849. The lengthy wars of the Spanish Succession (1701–14), the Great Northern War (1700–21), and the war of the Austrian Succession (1740–8) put this fragile Protestant consolidation in question, however localized the theatre of war was. Town and country in the Protestant Rhineland were devastated by French troops, and seriously affected by wartime Catholic French claims exemplified in the well-known words of the Ryswick clause (1697) ‘Religione tamen Catholica Romana in locis sic restitutis, in statu quo nunc est, remanente’. The Lutheran parishes of the Scandinavian monarchies, and the German provinces stretching from Denmark along the Baltic coast to Livonia and Estonia, were wrecked by the course and cost of the Great Northern War. Lutheran Thuringia and Saxony were touched too by the chance course of the Great Northern War, given the entirely unexpected conversion of the Saxon elector, Frederick Augustus (1670–1733), to Rome, and the resultant accession of the Albertine branch of the Lutheran House of Wettin to the Polish throne in 1697 (deposition in 1704; restoration in 1709). A calmer confessional climate became a possibility for the first time after 1730. For Lutheran Silesians, confessional peace of mind came a decade later with Frederick the Great's victories in the war of the Austrian Succession.

15

Namely, J. G. Walch, Historische und theologische Einleitung in die Religionsstreitigkeiten der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche, von der Reformation an bis auf jetzige Zeiten ausgeführt (Jena, 1730–9), 5 vols.

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‘Confessionalism’, a frame of mind intrinsic to a peculiar German religious order, needs to be qualified. Many local churches allowed space for increasingly tolerant religious attitudes; these became visible for the first time after 1720. What one prince or town disliked, another might approve of. There were safe havens or sanctuaries, which Pietism and Moravianism used to their advantage in Germany and Scandinavia. Osnabrück, the city where the instrument of religious peace was signed, produced a typically bizarre institutional arrangement of denominational coexistence: the practice of alternation between Catholic prince-bishops and Lutheran prince-bishops drawn from the house of Brunswick-Lüneburg after 1648. The last prince-bishop was Hanoverian Frederick, duke of York, who remained in office until 1803. Bloody-minded parochial litigation was tempered by the live-and-let-live of daily existence, and an increasing willingness, as time passed on, to respect the other religious party.16 Religious uniformity was almost impossible to uphold. Frontiers in our modern national sense were fluid in the eighteenth century, and remained so until national consolidation in the decade 1860–70. Land was plentiful. People alone were of political value to local rulers. Protestant political and religious authority was therefore local: it concentrated on the sparse rural villages and towns, and a few centres of commerce and crafts. This was an authority which constantly rose and fell, but in a jurisdictional sense more often than not overlapped. The Protestant churches of Germany and Scandinavia, to use a modern political expression, were part of a ‘penetrated’ cultural and religious map which constantly changed with the fortunes of rulers, and where one was forced to share to a large extent. The Swedish king governed Estonia and Livonia—duchies controlled by the baronial descendants of the Teutonic Knights whose powers Charles XI and Charles XII failed to reduce—until 1710; Bremen and Verden until 1720; and western Pomerania (Vorpommern) until 1814. In Bremen, Verden, and western Pomerania, local German Reformation church order was left more or less intact by successive Swedish governors; but in Estonia and Livonia, between 1710 and 1918 provinces of the Russian empire,

16

H. Hoberg, Die Gemeinschaft der Bekenntnisse in kirchlichen Dingen. Rechtszustände im Fürstentum Osnabrück vom westfalischen Frieden bis zum Anfang des 19. Jahrhunderts (Osnabrück, 1939).

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Sweden's Church Law (1686) lasted as customary canon law with the German Reformation church orders of Riga and Reval until 1832, when a new Law for the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in the Russian Empire was issued. The Swedish service-book (1693) remained in use until 1805. In fact, this mix of German and Swedish church order and liturgical arrangements continued to coexist after 1832, since little was changed by St Petersburg's conservative-minded legislators. It only began to break down under the joint pressure of Russification, proselytism by the Russian Orthodox church, and Estonian and Latvian national awakenings, which, especially in the Estonian case, supported the Moravians as the best way of expressing their ethnic identity towards their German baronial masters and their German parish clergy. In all of these German provinces, the milder ecclesiastical hand of Sweden expressed by the pastoral definition of the senior parish clergyman as a shepherd (Kyrkoherd) to his flock, left its imprint in rural parishes. In return, the Swedish Lutheran church via these connections and the proximity of her universities, Uppsala and Lund, to German university culture, absorbed, willingly or unwillingly, much Lutheran German ecclesiology, theology, and law. The same two-way influence was true of the Danish Lutheran church and Copenhagen University's theology faculty whose authority applied in a Helstat to the mixed Danish- and German-speaking provinces of Slesvig/Schleswig and Holsten/Holstein until the Danish-German war of 1864. German Protestants at all points of the German compass had to live, however litigious and strife-torn this became at times, with Catholic rulers, Catholic universities, and Catholic majorities and minorities. This was formalized constitutionally for the first time by new sovereign states after 1815. The map of religious coexistence also provided for a high degree of religious and cultural influence. Obvious examples are the influence of Jesuit devotional exercise, Catholic Counter-Reformation piety, and English Puritanism and Anglicanism on the canon of Lutheran prayer; Italian sixteenth-century church music; Dutch, English, and French natural law; late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Anglican pastoral theology and homiletics; and the natural religion and moral philosophy of the British and French Enlightenments. Thirty or so universities in eighteenth-century Germany acted as conduits, since the significant early-modern social and cultural distinction in German-speaking lands and the

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Scandinavian monarchies was one between those who benefited from a university Latin culture and those who did not. Protestant university theology and law were the chief disciplines which provided an entry into civil services and trained a clergy whose task it was to spread the Lutheran and Reformed faiths in the towns and countryside. The growing influence of seventeenth-century Dutch Reformed theology, Anglican pastoral theology, and Dutch and English natural-law theory on north-German Lutheran university theology and law, and in Scandinavian sister universities (more in Uppsala and Lund; less in Copenhagen) is one of the salient features of the half-century 1700–50. Communication was an important leavening force too. Commerce, using the big river systems of the Rhine and Main, spread Calvinist and Zwinglian churchmanship and spirituality, particularly Dutch Precisionism and British Puritanism, into many Lutheran Landeskirchen by 1700. The seaports on the North Sea and along the Baltic coast became points of entry for Dutch and English devotional literature, Dutch and English natural law, and the new moral philosophy of the British and French Enlightenments. Ships and cargoes also continued the Hansa tradition of uniting the entire Baltic region economically and culturally. Inland, the old medieval north-south and east-west road routes, centring on Frankfurt am Main and Leipzig, served the colporteurage of Puritan and Pietist devotional and homiletic religious literature. Francke and Zinzendorf were particularly quick to see the uses of this sea and road network for their mission spread by community letter, reminiscent of the methods of Jewish leaders in the Diaspora. Ships, and the north-east road route, were exploited, regardless of censorship and customs officials by Pietist and Moravian emissaries to spread their message rapidly via Denmark, Livonia, and Estonia to Sweden and Russia during and after the Great Northern War. Lutheran church music benefited too. Italian sixteenth-century Catholic church music spread via the Austro-Bohemian border contiguous with Bavaria and Saxony to urban centres of Lutheran church music such as Leipzig, Lüneburg, Hamburg, and Lübeck. The same border produced Moravian music-making which coloured the new congregational liturgy of Herrnhut. Significant for this book is the fact that the new, but still basically Lutheran, kingdom of Prussia (after 1701) under its Reformed Hohenzollern house, was a state which included influential, albeit

HARD TIMES

17

numerically small, Reformed minorities, sects such as Mennonites and Socinians, and Catholic minorities which also embraced Polish and Lithuanian-speaking populations in the provinces known after the first Partition of Poland in 1772 as ‘East Prussia’ and ‘West Prussia’. The need for colonists and a labour force to build a new state using subjects of different Christian persuasions at a time when religious confession mattered, prompted one of the more memorable marginal notes of history on 22 June 1740: ‘for here everyone must be allowed to choose his/her own road to salvation’. This implied Frederick the Great's rejection of Lutheran religious uniformity expressed by the notion of custos ecclesiae. His action, building on the religious policy of his father and grandfather, was of fundamental importance for Brandenburg-Prussia's rise to supremacy in Germany at the expense of Lutheran Saxony as a modern Protestant state uniting different religious denominations. The Prussian task was easier, because neighbouring Lutheran Saxony, the very mild guardian of Lutheran doctrine contained in the Book of Concord (1580), through the Polish connection and conversion of elector Augustus, had lost its claim to lead a more tolerant Protestant order which was emerging after 1730. The Saxon Lutheran church in the eighteenth century, though mildly governed by a college of Lutheran ministers and parliament (they secured this as a religious assurance in 1697), was a church which saw its main task as the maintenance of its Lutheran identity against its Catholic ruler, Catholic Poland, and the Catholic Habsburg empire.

III. The Rite of Public Worship A uniform Reformation rite of public worship, if one leaves aside the Lutheran biblical sermon and sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist, or the simple Reformed service with a sermon (Predigtgottesdienst) and its separate communion service, was not easy to see in 1700, since local Lutheran churches continued to use local Reformation liturgies which incorporated local liturgical usages. The advance of Calvinism and Zwinglianism in the seventeenth century, which had abolished the canon of the Latin mass, and made vernacular prayers and the sermon the centre of public worship, complicated this liturgical map of Protestant Germany which lacked a uniform rite. Luther's intention to retain the framework of the Latin mass in his

18

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Formula Missae et communionis (1523) was challenged by his open view of ceremony as of ‘no importance’ (nichts gelegen). This had appeared with his introduction of the congregational hymn in his vernacular Deutsche Messe (1526). Otherwise, Luther left the future shape of his liturgy to local authorities and parochial usage. Lutheran orders of service (Agenden) were thus subsequently published as part of Lutheran sixteenth-century church orders, as supplements, and sometimes separately as local liturgies. Liturgical variety was increased by Luther's distinction between the continuance of the Catholic mass in urban parish churches and collegiate foundations (these possessed the means to fund choir schools), and simple services consisting of one or two German hymns and a sermon led by the parish clergyman, or cantor/verger in smaller towns and village churches, and Lutheran public worship was coloured by the rites of neighbouring Catholic and Reformed lands, and places which practised simultaneous usage of parish and collegiate churches. As with doctrinal church order, a handful of big families of Reformation rites fashioned the order of service on Sundays and weekdays. The main geographical division consisted of a Lutheran northern and eastern Germany including Scandinavia, whose liturgies followed Luther's observance of the Ordinary and Proper of the Latin mass structure (Formula Missae and Deutsche Messe), and Calvinist and Zwinglian western and south-western Germany. In northern and eastern Germany and Scandinavia, the main Sunday morning parish communion service was treated as a unity within the framework of the Latin mass. The synonyms ‘Office’ (Amt) and ‘Mass’ (Messe) or ‘High Mass’ (Högmässa) in the Swedish service-book (1693), were frequently used. The retention of Luther's Formula Missae in the Brandenburg-Nuremberg church order (1533) also linked northern and southern Germany. Brandenburg-Prussia, and lands like the two Mecklenburgs, Calenberg-Göttingen, and the Thuringian principalities, had a similar order of service to that of Franconia and imperial cities such as Nuremberg and Ulm and their hinterlands. The sung liturgy of the main Sunday service was close to the Ordinary and Proper of the Latin mass. Western (including Hesse north of the river Main and Nassau) and south-western Germany, were influenced by the Genevan rite, and that of Reformation Strasburg. The main Sunday service was a

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simple service with a few hymns and a sermon (Predigtgottesdienst). This had appeared officially for the first time in Württemberg in 1536. But even here, given the proximity of imperial Catholic enclaves and cities, the injunction to abolish the high altar was checked by patrons and parishioners who continued until c.1800 to decorate parish churches liberally with paintings and sculptures. Communion, baptism, and marriage were a mix of Lutheran, Calvinist, and Zwinglian ritual. Beyond this crude division, the churchgoer could expect a bewildering variety of orders of service whose degree of adherence to the Latin canon of the mass and use of Latin depended partly on the whims of princes, magistrates, and their respective parish clergy and choral foundations, and partly on local parish observance. New, in the early eighteenth century, was a widespread awareness amongst senior and lower clergy and educated laymen in a still unsettled environment of Reformation church orders (which, they argued, produced Lutheran theologians who saw doctrinal and liturgical church order best served by using a ruler's statute-book), that a Reformation church could only advance if parishioners learnt to respect the order of public worship. Customary church order, in particular the liturgy of Sunday and weekday services, and the rites of baptism, marriage, and burial, which affected the average parishioner on a weekly if not daily basis during the Christian year, had to be understood in order to be respected and participated in, rather than followed slavishly, either because church orders issued as statutes told parishioners to go to church as a civic duty, or because they were regarded as nice ceremonies and as an integral part of established social convention. Better training in the catechism and the new rite of confirmation renewing baptismal vows followed therefrom. This implied a radical change to established Lutheran theological convention which saw the clergyman's office as a teaching office, and the sermon as one fashioned for a passive parish congregation. It also meant stopping the continuance of Catholic canon law usage, a reformation of the Ordinary and Proper in the main Lutheran Sunday service, and an attempt to remove survivals of Catholic liturgical observance in Lutheran parishes. Public worship in church—in German Gottesdienst, in Swedish gudstjänst, and in Danish gudstjeneste, implying both its theological essence and its liturgical form, or distinction between the essential faith and inessential ceremony (Adiaphoron; Mittelding)—became,

20

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under German Pietism associated with Spener and Francke and a like-minded new Protestant law practised at Halle and Tübingen under jurists such as Christian Thomasius, Justus Henning Böhmer, and the theologian Christoph Matthäus Pfaff, once again—as at the time of the Leipzig Interim (1548) and after the Peace of Augsburg (1555)—a highly controversial public issue which found no equitable solution in the eighteenth century. It also rumbled on into the liturgical controversies associated with the reform of Reformation church order made necessary by the political rearrangement of Scandinavia and Germany after 1800.

2 Consolidation of a Protestant Canon of Prayer I. Prayer as the Practice of Piety If the cross of suffering shaped Lutheran parish piety for two or three decades after the Great Northern War and the War of the Spanish Succession, and was one of the major reasons for the spread of Hallesian Pietism and the Moravian Brethren in Germany and Scandinavia (known in Swedish and Danish as Herrnhuter), nevertheless it would be misleading to dwell solely on devotional literature which was designed to manage spiritual crisis. This obscures the devotional legacy of Luther and the Reformers, and important developments in European Protestant devotional writing shaped by pastoral work during the period of European religious strife (c.1550–1700). This new Protestant devotional canon shapes the practice of piety in the period covered by this book, and for this reason prefaces all the following chapters. Despite the wars of religion and interminable theological controversy about Reformation and Counter-Reformation doctrine, a denominationally non-partisan and uncontroversial devotional literature of the heart became popular everywhere in Lutheran Germany and Scandinavia in the troubled seventeenth century amongst those who could read. This consolidation of daily and occasional prayer as a Protestant devotional canon was a major legacy of the seventeenth century, which is usually bracketed with religious and social crisis by historians. It is thus misleading to think in specific denominational and national devotional traditions. In practice, Lutheran parish and senior clergy in Germany and Scandinavia put the devotional needs of parishioners before defence of the faith. By 1700, an extensive prayer-book and devotional literature taken from the Early Church, from the High Middle Ages, from the late fourteenth-century devotio moderna, and from the Jesuits, supplemented prayers used in

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Lutheran public worship and Lutheran family prayers (devotio domestica). This was made possible to a large extent by the still prevalent use of Latin and the Romance languages amongst the educated, and by a flowering post-Tridentine Catholic press run by Jesuit colleges in cities such as Antwerp or Cologne, or even further afield at Vilnius in Lithuania, Riga in Livonia, or Dorpat (Tartu) in Estonia. After 1650, Anglican, English Dissenter, and Puritan devotional books, which had likewise absorbed by this date this Catholic devotional tradition, were edited for Lutheran parishioners, and began to flood this market as well. The number of editions and impressions of such prayer-books is unquantifiable. Denmark and Sweden were influenced by this devotional development largely via German devotional books and translations from the German original, given a shared Reformation. Swedish homiletic and devotional literature was imported wholesale from Germany, since Swedish clergy produced few devotional books in their own tongue before c. 1680, and German printers and colporteurs dominated, on the whole, the Swedish book market until 1750. In this period, a Swedish book-seller was seen as a purveyor of foreign books. Thus Bishop Haquin Spegel (1645–1714), bishop of Linköping (1692–1711) and archbishop (1711–14), the most important Swedish transmitter of Anglican devotional and pastoral literature, could still write in 1709 that in Sweden, ‘all a devout soul, an educated person, and priest needed to know’ was to be found exclusively in German religious books.17 The relative ease and speed with which this devotional literature crossed German and Scandinavian political and religious borders points to a similar pattern of rapid absorption of medieval and contemporary Catholic devotional books by the Anglican church in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Senior Anglican clergy such as bishops Richard Hooker (c.1551–1600), Lancelot Andrewes (1555–1626), and Thomas Ken (1637–1711), did not define the Protestant devotional content of their Anglicanism too narrowly. They preferred to see their spirituality in the spiritual landscape of the Early Church. Their devotional open-mindedness in turn, made it simpler for their German and Scandinavian Lutheran fellow clergy to find common devotional ground.18

17

Lindquist, Svenska andaktslitteraturen, 260 passim ; Schuck, ‘Om bokhandlare’, 171–3, 176.

18

Map of Jesuit foundations: Jedin, Atlas, 78; Jesuit influence: Febvre and Martin, 193 passim.

A PROTESTANT CANON OF PRAYER

23

As parish clergy aware of the pressing need to improve their pastoral relationship with their parishioners, given widespread ignorance of Reformation Christianity, the troubled times in which they and their parishioners lived, and the gains made by Catholicism in Europe after the Council of Trent, they turned this new devotional canon into a homespun, informal, plain man's prayer literature written for the most part in the vernacular. They were also helped by urban printers who noticed this new parochial demand. Variety was its essence. It was often difficult to draw the line between what constituted a prayer-book, hymn-book, or book of devotion. Prayer-books for the home, or general prayer-books, usually known as manuals, covering the Christian year, were supplemented by a large number of special devotional books designed to meet the peculiar needs of the educated layman. Meditations, rules of Christian conduct, prayer-books devoted solely to confession and communion, ones offering comfort to the sick and dying, devotional companions for travellers, collections of sermons, and selections with explanations of the Epistles and Gospels were some of the most common. The general prayer-books too, had become by 1700 encyclopaedic in their coverage of the Christian day, Christian calendar, and prayer provision for each social rank. This literature had to be made instantly recognizable, given the generally poor level of literacy. Allegory, emblem, or parable, which decorated the walls, pews, and galleries of the medieval parish church were used similarly in private prayer-books as the title or headings of contents. Prayer was topical and intimate. If the church militant in the shape of the Lutheran soldier wielding his spiritual sword taken from his spiritual armoury (Rüstkammer) was a common enough title in 1700, prayer as housekeeping of the soul, as a mirror of perfection, as spiritual wealth in the shape of spiritual treasuries (Schatzkammer), or caskets (Schatzkästlein), or jewels, or pearl necklaces, was equally widespread. The medieval canonical hours survived in the image of clocks, repeaters, hands of clocks, and the village or town ‘knocker-up’ (Herzwecker). Even the angelus (Betglöcklein) was fairly common. Other familiar images consisted of the rose or pleasure-garden taken from Catholic medieval prayer literature, medicine, healing plasters, healing wells, springs offering comfort (Trost-Quelle), or apothecaries. The pilgrim travel theme—spiritual compasses for sailors or fishermen, signposts, or inns at the end of a long journey—was also popular.

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Emblematic titles were given to the contents of these prayer-books as well. They made it easier for the parishioner to identify themes which he or she might wish to use. Wegelin's popular prayer-book (1637) was divided into the following seven simple sections: (1) Diary (Tages-Register); (2) Calendar of Prayer (Bet-Calendar); (3) Bread-basket (BrodKeller); (4) Armoury (Kriegs-Zeughaus); (5) Carriage (Reiß-Wagen); (6) (Haus-Tafel); (7) Apothecary (Haus-Apotheke).19 In 1700 the average prayer-book was really an amalgam of short collect cycles composed by Luther, or a collection of pericopes and Gospels read on Sundays and the major festivals of the Christian year compiled by subsequent devotional Reformers, and Catholic, Anglican, and Puritan devotional books. It was a prayer-book which was still close to the Catholic medieval tradition of prayer. Despite what Luther had to say about ‘works’, he did see private prayer as the essential daily office to be performed as the first and last action of the day, and as an action which could be performed in any place at any hour. Prayer at home, the Catholic devotio domestica, was to complement prayer in church. Luther was aware too, in the Passional he appended to his Betbüchlein (1522), of the way the images and allegory represented by the Stations of the Cross should be used as an easy way to instruct visually minded children. Although Luther and the German Reformers issued few prayer-books containing formulated prayers—they preferred to awaken faith by preaching the Gospel—Luther stressed especially in his Betbüchlein, that he did not necessarily wish to supplant old prayer formulae with new ones.20 In this traditional sense, it was easier to build a prayer literature linking church and home around Luther's didactic purpose centred on the Lord's Prayer, the Ten Commandments, the Creed, selections from the Psalms, the Epistles, and the Gospels. Lutheran clergy were helped too in the late sixteenth century by church orders and visitations which stressed both the need to know the catechism (for Christian education), and collective family devotion as daily family prayers and hymn-singing.21

19

Beck, Religiöse Volkslitteratur, 112; Lindquist, 202–6. See explanation of Haustafel early in Ch. 5.

20

WA 10/2. 375; ‘Et nechst dem predigampt ist oratio das gröste ampt in Christianitate ’ etc., sermon, 14 May 1531, WA 34/1. 395.

21

Graff, Auflösung, i. 66–70. Namely, Courland's Church Order (1570), modelled on Riga's (1530): ‘Derhalben sol in den heusern wöchentlich durchaus gottes wort gelesen, gehöret und verhandlet [sic ] werden, die gebet und lobpsalm fleissig gesungen, der catechismus ernstlich getrieben, und jedermann, sonderlich die jungen kinder, zum morgen und abentsegen gehalten werden, und dasselbig ohne verachtung des heiligen creuzes zeichens, welche ohne jenige superstition seind signa fidei, religionis et confessionis nostrae, der christen pannier und veldzeichen’, Sehling, Kirchenordnungen, v. 91.

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25

In Denmark, many ordinances were passed throughout the seventeenth century which tried to enforce regular household morning and evening prayers, and prayers at mealtimes. Domestics as well as the family circle were to be included in the family ‘practice of piety’. The parish priest was ordered to be watchful, and to impose fines for forgetfulness. But official ordinances can mislead. Family prayers, an aspect of the Catholic tradition of the common collegiate life, where the Psalms in particular were read in Latin or Danish by educated Danes, still flourished in seventeenth and early eighteenth-century Danish households. Book inventories in personal estates also show that prayers were often written down for family use, and circulated, long before they appeared in print. This was the case with the four books comprising Arndt's Wahres Christentum. They circulated in handwritten form between the printing of the fourth book alone as a prayer-book (Copenhagen, 1618), and the entire edition seventy years later (1688). It took about eighty years to print (Copenhagen, 1706) Danish handwritten copies of Daniel Dyke's The Mystery of self-deceiving or nosce te ipsum (London, 1615). In the long run, therefore, this widespread devotional practice amongst nobility, clergy, and commoners, demanded an increasing supply of printed devotional books.22 Much of this prayer compilation was at first haphazard and unsystematic. Peter Treuer's popular Betglöcklein, eight editions (1579–1710), with its 493 prayer texts was a typical example of plagiarism often found in subsequent larger manuals. What could not be found at home could be borrowed from an opposing religious denomination. Lutheran clergy in Germany, Sweden, and Denmark drew from Catholic Renaissance authors, post-Tridentine Catholic authors, and Jesuit prayer-books—obviously not naming them—such as those of Peter Michaelis (Brillmacher, 1542–95), and Peter Canisius (1521–97). They valued this devotional literature not only for its emphasis on self-knowledge, the experience of faith, and individual emotional expression, but also for its systematic arrangement

22

J. O. Andersen, ‘Dansk syn på fromhed’, xxvi-xxvii. Denmark's Conventicle Act (1741) still stressed ‘at Husbonder og Madmødre i deres Hus holder Gudsfrygtighedsøvelse for dem, deres Børn og Tyende med ordentlig Morgen- og Aftenandagt’, article 9. Handwritten prayers: Rørdam, KhS (1903–5), 363–71.

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of prayer themes, and its use of methodical prayer exercises. This path was one which helped to reintroduce the prayers of Ambrose, Origen, Cyprian, Jerome, and Tertullian; also St Augustine and late-medieval attributions known as his Manual, Soliloquies, and Meditations; St Bernard, and Thomas à Kempis. Other examples are the influential twovolume Meditationes sanctorum patrum compiled by Martin Moller (1547–1606), which appeared in four popular editions (1584/91–1719), and his Thesaurus precationum (1603), designed as a family prayer-book, which remained very popular in northern Germany in the eighteenth century. Another transmitter was Philipp Kegel, a Lübeck layman (d. 1611), whose Ein neu christlich und gar nützlich Betbuch (1592) as the second edition Zwölf geistliche Andachten (1596), reached fifteen editions (1695). One of the worst plagiarists, but nevertheless the most successful popularizer of all, was the clergyman, Johann Arndt (1525–1621), the best-loved, and frequently reprinted, prayer author in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia. His Vier Bücher vom Wahren Christentum was printed (1605–1740) ninety-five times in German, and three times each in Danish and Swedish.23 This book, and his equally well-loved Paradiesgärtlein (1612), simply lifted texts wholesale from the latemedieval devotio moderna authors such as St Thomas à Kempis, and Jesuit prayer-books, which he edited to suit his parishioners in Brunswick and Celle, since he knew of no other comparable devotional models. Arndt's popularity provided a major channel for the spread of the medieval Catholic devotional tradition and the Jesuits into Lutheran Germany and Scandinavia. The librarian of the Jesuit college at Madrid, when asked during a visit (1687) by a Hallesian professor of theology, Paul Anton (1661–1730), to show him a good example of a Jesuit prayer-book, could do little else than take down from the shelves the library's copy of Arndt's Paradiesgärtlein. Arndt's emphasis on putting Jesus's teaching into practice, on spiritual rebirth linked to penance and conversion; his diminution of justification by faith, and his avoidance of eschatology (not a single chapter in Wahres Christentum deals with last things), if it reflected Catholic sources, nevertheless reshaped in warm, personal, and simple language the Lutheran practice of piety. His views became a strong optimistic current during the crisis-ridden seventeenth century amongst many Lutheran parish clergy and their parishioners. Arndt's this-worldly piety, which revered the natural order of

23

Editions: Lehmann, Absolutismus, 116.

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27

creation, in the long run also shaped the piety of eighteenth-century Lutheran households as diverse as those of the botanist Linné and the clergyman Herder. The devotional legacy of the seventeenth century also consists of the way this integration to suit devotional needs of Lutheran parishioners was popularized in large prayer collections, and in the rapid diffusion of what became known by 1700 as ‘devotional books’ (Erbauungsbücher). Hans Leube has shown us that this was the work of a succession of Lutheran senior and parish clergy (c.1550–1700) in Germany (and a similar thing happened in Scandinavia). Like their Anglican contemporaries, they were very concerned about the ignorance of primary Reformation religious truth exhibited by their parishioners; they felt it therefore necessary to write comprehensible instruction in a warm and direct devotional language; the catechism might find an easier way into homes in this form. Manuals (Handbücher) similar to contemporary French paroissiens thus became a common way of instructing parishioners as devotional aids (Wegweiser) in the exercise of their religious duties. These handy books continued and expanded the work done in the late sixteenth century to make the sermon and collects in church available to parishioners at home. This emphasis on the exercise of daily prayer for every rank of parishioner and circumstance was the major element of a reawakened and widespread pastoral awareness amongst seventeenth-century parish clergy. In this sense Arndt was unexceptional.24 Examples of this writing are the collection Christliche Gebet (1567) compiled by Johann Habermann (Avenarius) (1516–90), which reached its thirty-seventh edition in 1737. Using the Jesuit Peter Michaelis's prayer method, Habermann gave themes to daily prayers on weekdays and special occasions for all ranks of parishioner. Thus we find prayers for those in authority, the clergy, the master and mistress of the house, their children and domestics, even the wellbeing of the family's cattle; prayers offered in wartime and tribulation, and prayers for the sick and dying. His language was direct, close to Luther's Bible and common diction. Hence the common saying amongst laymen in the late seventeenth century, given Habermann's familiarity, that one was ‘taking one's Habermann’ as a phrase for going to prayers.25 Habermann, in turn, was taken up by

24

Leube, Reformideen, 122 passim.

25

Althaus, Erbauungsliteratur, 119 passim ; Grosse, Die Alten Tröster, 106–22.

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others such as Samuel Reinhart, tutor to Elector Johann Georg of Brandenburg's children, whose Gebetbuch (1595), which swelled to well over 1,000 pages by the time of its sixth edition in 1633, was one of the most influential. It was also very popular in Sweden after translation in 1642.26 Other prominent seventeenth-century Reformers who saw the writing of devotional books for their parishioners as their main task, were parish clergymen such as Johann Gerhard (1582–1637), Johann Lütkemann (1608–55), Heinrich Müller (1631–75), Johannes Lassen (1632–92), Gottfried (1605–65) and Johann Gottfried Olearius (1635–1711). They produced a massive corpus of local prayer-books and pastoral devotional writing which continued to exert a considerable influence on parish devotion throughout the eighteenth century. Gerhard was not only one of the major transmitters of the Catholic prayer of St Anselm and St Bernard, and of Jesuit exercises, in his Meditationes sacrae (1606; in German 1607) and many other devotional writings to German and Scandinavian Lutheran parishes, but also one of the few German Lutheran theologians of his age who possessed European significance as a prayer author. Lütkemann's Apostolic Exhortation (Apostolische Aufmunterung) written for his parishioners in Wölfenbuttel, in twenty-two known editions (1652–1790), was often added to a wedding gift, and was used by pastors as diverse in theological viewpoint as Johann Friedrich Mayer and Spener in their attempts to provide a better standard of pastoral care in expanding cities such as Hamburg and Berlin in the early eighteenth century. The many ‘warm’ household prayer-books produced by Müller at Lübeck became models of piety too in northern Germany, Denmark, and Sweden also. So too did those of his pupil Lassen, one of the most popular preachers in Copenhagen. His parish church, St Peter, had to be rebuilt eventually to house his steadily increasing audience. At Halle, a clergy dynasty passed on this devotional practice from fathers to sons: Gottfried Olearius began with his Thesaurus salutis orthodoxus (1669); this was followed by the handbook Eröffnete Himmelspforte (1670) written by his son Johann Gottfried Olearius. The next generation, Johann Gottfried (1635–1711), a patristic scholar and Bach's employer at Arnstadt, and Johann Christoph (1668–1747), the polyhistor, were probably the

26

Althaus, 148–9; in Sweden: Lindquist, 51–9. It was reprinted during the Swedish plague year 1710.

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29

most famous Thuringian hymn-writers of their day. Their work was collected for the first time in Hymnopoiographica Oleriana, published at Naumburg in 1727.27 Next to Arndt, perhaps the most important figure in terms of devotional influence (and also on Spenerian Pietism) for most of the period covered by this book, was Christian Scriver (1629–93).28 As one of life's unluckier husbands and fathers—he married four times and was survived by only one of his fourteen children—Scriver produced a staggering corpus of devotional writing, encyclopaedic in its knowledge of the Church Fathers and the prayer of the Christian church. It was his attempt to give his Magdeburg parishioners—each of whom, it was said, he knew by name—a regulated life of prayer and pastoral care. Scriver certainly tried to be a model with a precision which bordered on the pedantic: six hours' sleep, four hours for prayer, reading the Bible and other devotional books and reflection thereon; two hours only for meals, two hours for pleasure under which he included performing church music and charity, nine hours of official duties, and one hour in the morning or at night to reflect on death. The last of which, he said, was the most difficult of all to get accustomed to. Needless to say, naming the famous should not blind the reader to numerous other seventeenth-century German and Scandinavian Lutheran clergy who are now chiefly remembered as names in library catalogues listing devotional books.

II. Printers and Editions Prayer collections were constantly updated, and reached an even wider audience as a result of a new interest shown by commercially minded pious printers in towns such as Lüneburg, Leipzig, Nuremberg, Ulm, Strasburg, Riga, Copenhagen, and Stockholm. Since an educated lay demand for vernacular literature had become fashionable in 1648, they decided that the folio Bibles in parish churches, produced as folio Bibles chained to the pulpit in an age when learning was a clerical prerogative, had to be supplemented by a handy and cheaper devotional literature in octaves and twelves. This was reflected in the way Frankfurt am Main, as the chief centre for major European publishers producing Latin books, lost its trade in the 1640s to Leipzig, which printed and sold to a mainly

27

Olearius family: s.v. RE and ADB.

28

Beck, 143 passim ; Grosse, 253 passim.

30

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German-speaking audience. Colporteurs were used to spread this literature in the countryside, especially on market days and annual fairs. This remained an important habit until the first bookshops established themselves in the chief German and Scandinavian towns after 1750. Even then, it was the colporteur rather than the bookseller who made contact with the parishioner who could read.29 Printers in Lüneburg and Riga were amongst the first to produce vernacular literature. In Lüneburg, the town printers Hans and Heinrich Stern printed the Lüneburgisches Hausbuch für Reisende zu Land und Wasser (1612). It represented a new interest in thematic arrangement: seventeen sections swelled to twenty-six (1652), and forty-two (1655). In 1667, as the Neuzugerichtete Gebetbuch, it was an octavo volume of over 1000 pages. The following simple division into morning, midday, and evening prayers made it very popular: Morning: (1) reflect on how you have slept; (2) pray the morning prayer; (3) read a chapter from the Bible; (4) pray for all in need; (5) repeat your will and prepare yourself for death; (6) look up the calendar; (7) consider what you should do during the day; (8) pray for God's blessing. Midday: (1) Examine what you have done in the morning; (2) say grace; (3) remind yourself about spiritual matters; (4) give willingly to the poor; (5) hold Christian table-talk; (6) be moderate in eating and drinking; (7) say the Deo Gratias; (8) collect the remaining crumbs (sic); (9) read the Bible; (10) pray to God. Evening: (1) read the Bible and repeat the catechism; (2) say your prayers; (3) examine what you have done during the day; (4) repeat your will, and prepare yourself for death. This was plain pastoral advice, which continued the Catholic medieval tradition of canonical hours.30 The Stern brothers also republished Arndt's devotional works, and they were responsible for the first German editions of Anglican and Puritan authors. In Riga, too, local printers realized this demand for handy devotional books. The Rigisches Gebetbuch (1641), 900 pages in twelves, was reprinted in a further six editions by 1732. Riga's printers were helped by the appointment of the Spenerian Johann Fischer (1633–1705) as general superintendent of Livonia (1674–99). Charles

29

Germany: Febvre and Martin, 88, 195–6, 232–3; Dumrese and Schilling, Lüneburg und die Offizin der Sterne. Sweden: Schuck, ‘Om bokhandlare’, 171–84.

30

Lindquist, 263–4; canonical hours: ibid. 265.

A PROTESTANT CANON OF PRAYER

31

XI of Sweden entrusted him with spreading the faith through the privilege to print he had bestowed in 1675. The cloisters and chapter house of Riga cathedral were used as the points of sale. Fischer edited and printed many devotional books, one of the most influential being his edition of Arndt's Wahres Christentum (1679), and was responsible for making the New Testament available in Latvian and Estonian.31 However, it was another Lüneburg citizen involved in the book trade, the colporteur Michael Cubach, who published the most popular collection of prayers of its day; one too, which remained very popular in the eighteenth century. Einer gläubigen und andächtigen Seelen täglichen Bet-, Buß, Lob- und Danck-Opffer, d.i. ein grosses Gebetbuch (Leipzig, 1654) reached twenty-seven editions by 1791. It also increased in size from a mere 1,244 pages to 1,416, when Scriver edited it in 1689. In their zeal for completeness, Cubach and Scriver tried to include prayers from all ages of the Christian church as well as substantial portions from more recent authors such as Habermann. Almost the entire Paradiesgärtlein was included. Arndt was anyway a household name in Lüneburg, judging by the frequent printing of his devotional books there. A keynote given by Cubach was his systematic arrangement designed to help the parishioner. Cubach's prayerbook even used the heading horulae canonicae for prayer hours. Separate books were entitled: (1) prayers for the day and week; (2) rank (the largest section); (3) confession and communion; (4) festivals; (5) special occasions; (6) the Cross; (7) war, rising prices, and plague; (8) the seasons and weather; (9) travel; (10) sickness and death. Two indexes listed the titles for all prayers, and for those used on Sundays, festivals, and days of the Apostles. Every social rank of parishioner could find what he or she needed in detail for any mental or physical state. Here are a few random samples taken from the index: a prayer when sitting in the shade; a prayer when one is tormented at home by ghosts and thieves or such like; a prayer for parents to whom are born twins, the one successfully, the other still-born; a prayer for an old person whose hands shake; a prayer for someone with feeble, trembling, and crooked feet; a prayer for someone who cannot chew with his/her teeth nor speak loudly enough. The troubled seventeenth century was amply provided for too, with prayers as detailed as those formulated to combat excessive

31

Recke-Napiersky, i. 570–6; G. Wieselgren, ‘Johann Fischer—Livlands nya apostel’, Sv.E (1964), 26–58.

32

REFORMATION AND CONTINUANCE OF REFORM

worry or doubt when the world seemed to turn against the parishioner.32 Another aspect of close co-operation between clergy and printers was the reprinting of selections from Luther's Bible, given the widespread destruction of church inventory during the Thirty Years' War. Bibles ordered to be placed in churches by sixteenth-century church orders were missing; summaries like those of Veit Dietrich were no longer in print. After 1650, serious attempts were made by local clergy in a state such as Württemberg, or the principalities comprising Thuringia, to make these available again to clergymen and parishioners. In Württemberg, senior clergy started to republish instalments of the Old and New Testaments in quarto at Stuttgart (1659–72), and these were reprinted again in 1709 and 1721. Households who could afford these summaries were treated to a more comprehensive interpretation and summary as well. The Württemberg summaries were simple to use, and written in a warm and personal tone. The same was the case in Thuringia, where senior clergy also tried to remedy deficiencies in the devotional inventory of local parishes. The Altenburg summary (1676) likewise updated Luther's Bible and Veit Dietrich for family prayers. If much of this work was uncritical and unhistorical, it nevertheless filled a large gap in the link between what was preached and prayed in church and family prayer before the baron Carl Hildebrand von Canstein (1667–1719) set up his press at Halle in 1712 producing cheap and handy Bibles for the layman.33 To put accurate figures on the size of this devotional literature in 1700 is almost impossible, since it was so ephemeral. Devotional books were designed to meet a daily need. German typography was also the worst of all in Europe in 1650, given the economic effect of thirty years of war. Devotional books were usually printed on very inferior paper, and reprinted often to ensure rapid turnover. Publishers' rights were mocked by a new reading public which dictated quick sales and pirate publishing. German geographic and political division also obstructed the enforcement of publishers' rights. Many devotional books were circulated in handwritten form before printing. The known editions and impressions which have come down to us thus do not reflect true numbers.34

32

Beck, 77–9; Grosse, 220; Althaus, 159–60; Lindquist, 260.

33

Grosse, 288–9; Beck, 112–13; s.v. ‘Bibelwerk’ TRE.

34

Difficulty of quantification: Lindquist, 422 passim ; Dahl, 173–4.

A PROTESTANT CANON OF PRAYER

33

But this devotional literature was remarkably popular considering the small literate public, and a lack of bookshops and public libraries. The way Leipzig took over from Frankfurt am Main as an internal vernacular book market for Germany and for northern and eastern Europe was a reflection of the way printers recognized that cheaper mass production in twelves was the way to fulfil a new fashion for handy popular books. This was also helped along by churchmen around 1700. In Sweden, for example, Spegel, bishop of Linköping and Svedberg, bishop of Skara (who set up, on arrival at his episcopal seat in Brunsbo in 1702, his own printing-press to publish his sermons, devotional books and tracts), influenced no doubt by the Anglican devotional practice encountered on their visits to England (see Ch. 7), proposed for the first time in Sweden that Bibles and devotional books should be loaned from country parish church libraries to parishioners on Sundays and church festivals. They saw this as a way of combating Christian ignorance and the customary idleness, frivolity, gossip, and inebriation exhibited on these days by parishioners in their respective dioceses. This helped to increase the sale of devotional books like Scriver's Seelenschatz (1675–92), which appeared again and again in inventories and visitation reports of these respective dioceses between the 1720s and the nineteenth century.35 If a normal edition and impression of a devotional book (c.1650–c.1750) was 2,000 copies, the following known impressions of some of the most used general prayer-books gives a very rough rule of thumb: Habermann in thirtyseven editions (1567–1737), 74,000; Cubach (1654–1790) in twenty-seven impressions, 54,000; Kegel's Zwolf geistliche Andachten (1596–1695) in fifteen impressions, 30,000; Lütkemann's Apostolische Aufmunterung (1652–1790) in twentytwo impressions, 44,000. In Sweden, Kegel's prayer-book in translation (1617) went through some twenty impressions, or about 40–50,000 copies. Kegel was popularized once again after 1700 when the senior consistory at Stockholm sent his prayer-book as part of consignments of devotional books to the Swedish settlers in America. But even if one takes less well-known authors, and prayer and devotional books designed for local parish use, four or five impressions would not be out of order. Inventories of private estates

35

Wiberg, ‘Ur sockenbibliotekens äldra historia’, Biblioteksbladet, 27 (1942), 155, 157; Olsson, ‘Den kyrkliga biblioteksverksamheten på 1600- och 1700-talen’, Biblioteksbladet, 28 (1943), 10–11.

34

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in northern Swedish parishes (1700–c.1820), when Revivalism began in earnest, show a steady printing and circulation of this literature.36 In Germany, Leipzig Easter fair catalogues for 1740 show devotional books as constituting 39 per cent of the total. Under this heading, books of daily prayer and meditations on Jesus, His person, teaching, and passion represented the largest number. A mere fraction (2.75%) related to doctrine and the catechism. These figures are also borne out by what colporteurs took in bales to local markets. Next to calendars and almanacs, prayer and devotional books were usually the most popular. These figures and the map of their diffusion suggest something roughly comparable to the success story of English devotional circulation figures in what was, however, admittedly a shorter timespan (1600–40). One can take two of the most popular in eighteenth-century Germany and Scandinavia: in England Lewis Bayly's Practice of Piety ran to thirty-six impressions (1612–36), and Dent's Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven appeared in twenty-five impressions (1601–40).37 The Lutheran parishioner in Germany, Sweden, and Denmark in 1700, was thus supplied with a prayer and devotional literature which was still close to Luther's catechism, and Lutheran prayer used at confession and communion. It was also close to the verse and rhyme of local hymn-books (hymn-books and prayer-books were often combined, given the importance of the hymn in the Lutheran rite). Parishioners were supplied in addition with collect cycles and selections taken from the lessons in church in Sundays and Christian festivals. But prayer by 1700, was designed to conform more thematically to ranks of parishioner, to their occasional needs, and the seasonal calendar. This was given system and method by Jesuit devotional practice, and enriched emotionally and psychologically by Catholic meditation and mystical prayer.

III. Reception of Anglican and Puritan Spirituality A novel aspect of this Lutheran devotional canon were devotional books known generically as Erbauungsliteratur. They swelled to a flood in Germany and Scandinavia in the century 1650–1750.

36

Kegel in Sweden: Schuck, ‘Om bokhandlare’, 176; Kegel shipped to America: Lindquist, 422; Swedish book catalogues: ibid. 423–4.

37

Leipzig figures: Jentzsch, Leipziger Ostermeßkatalogen, 15, 25, 316–8; Schoffler, Protestantismus und Literatur, 186 passim. English figures: White, English Devotional Literature, 13.

A PROTESTANT CANON OF PRAYER

35

Anglican and Puritan works were particularly well represented in this genre. However, caution is needed with this term: Luther, the Reformers, and even early seventeenth-century prayer authors such as Arndt did not use the word ‘edification’ (Erbauung) to mean to benefit spiritually, or improve morally. Aedificatio still implied the church building, where the congregation took part in public worship. The parish church (in Lutheran theology) lacked a ‘hallowed’ Catholic sense; it had no religious significance beyond being the venue where the congregation assembled and performed worship; when the family assembled at home for prayers, it was therefore just as much in church. Until the middle of the seventeenth century, ‘betterment’ (Besserung) to describe spiritual improvement experienced by the practising believer, was usual.38 However, after 1650, ‘Erbauung’ began to mean subjective meditation or contemplation coupled with an awakened personal faith and moral conscience which led parishioners to perform pious charitable works as well. In Sweden too, the noun ‘meditation’ (betraktelse) became common.39 This was an aspect of a need felt by Lutheran senior and parish clergy to provide better pastoral care and church order after the Thirty Years' War. They were thus receptive to the personal practice of piety which became a fashion in the Netherlands and the Anglican church after the 1570s. In this way, too, the medieval Catholic devotional tradition and Jesuit prayer was imported afresh by what seemed on the surface to be a new Protestant devotional mood of individual improvement and good works. This spread to Germany via Calvinist urban congregations situated in the Netherlands and Switzerland. Dutch and French editions were used by the Lutheran printers of Hamburg, Bremen, Lübeck, Brunswick, Lüneburg, Halle, Hanover, Danzig (Gdansk), and Riga, or by Lutheran and Reformed printers in Basle, Strasburg, Frankfurt am Main, Oppenheim, Hanau, and Kassel. The changing pattern of European trade after 1650 in which the British took over the trade of the Hansa, and the success of the Dutch in the North Sea and Baltic, helped to disseminate devotional books, either as additional cargo, or as reading for the local British and Reformed congregations of the major seaports stretched along the Baltic coast from Rostock to Riga.

38

‘Frequens occurrit nomen aedificationis’ noted (1677) by the Jena theologian, Baier, cited TRE 10. 25; usage of Erbauung ; Spener, Theologische Bedenken (1700–2), i. 631; ii. 471; iii. 157, 179, 708, 802; iv. 548.

39

Lindquist, 250. English usage: White, 154.

36

REFORMATION AND CONTINUANCE OF REFORM

Anglican and Puritan devotional books became popular with Lutheran senior and junior parish clergy. They became aware of Anglican pastoral practice after 1650, though few had any first-hand knowledge. Either through university links, or through the proximity of British congregations in cities such as Bremen or Hamburg, or in the ports dotted along the Baltic coast, or in some cases as a result of short visits to London, Oxford, and Cambridge, a taste for Anglican patristic scholarship and devotional and pastoral practice developed.40 A survey of English devotional literature edited for German and Scandinavian parishioners shows us that Lutheran clergymen were chiefly interested in the Anglican church's devotional and pastoral contribution, in the Puritan emphasis on good works, and individual moral retrenchment implicit in one's duty to God, oneself, and one's neighbour. Those few Lutheran clergy who did visit England after 1650—particularly Swedish clergy such as Spegel and Svedberg, or Danish senior clergy such as Hans Bagger (1646–93) and Erik Pontoppidan (1698–1764), were impressed not only by Anglican patristic scholarship and devotional learning (Svedberg was much impressed by their ‘sanctity’), but also by Anglican pastoral practice. They and their German colleagues approved of Anglican public baptism on Sundays and church festivals, the admonition to parents and godparents to instruct the infant in the Christian faith, confirmation, the Anglican sick communion where the parish priest asked the entire family to participate in that common rite, and above all, Sunday observance and regular Bible reading. They also liked formulated prayers, the attention to prayer's psychology, and an emphasis put on regular and methodical exercise of prayer. It is therefore not so very surprising to find the frequent reprinting of English devotional books concerned with these themes in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia.41 One of the most influential was none other than the original version of Robert Persons' (Parsons) Christian Directory, the First Booke of the Christian exercise, appertayning to resolution (1582). Here was a direct link with Catholic and Jesuit devotional tradition. In Germany, some seventeen bowdlerised editions had appeared by 1696: nine at Lüneburg (1620, 1630, 1632, 1634, 1653, 1679, 1683, 1696, and 1703); two at Strasburg (1632 and 1633); three at

40

Blassneck, Frankreich als Vermittler, 9; Waterhouse, Literary Relations, Pietismus’, in Pietismus und Reveil, 151–68.

41

Leube, Reformideen, 162 passim.

110. Urban transmission: Leube, Reformideen,

166–7; Beck, 177; Wallmann, ‘Labadismus und

A PROTESTANT CANON OF PRAYER

37

Nuremberg (1657, 1674, and 1718); one at Giessen (1735), and two at Potsdam (1733 and 1742). A further eight printings took place (1703–48). In Sweden, Parsons proved to be the single most influential devotional author next to Bayly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Many Swedish clergy gave their placet to the use of his work by parishioners, despite the existence of a rigorous censorship of religious books. The first Swedish translation was made by a Swedish vicar in 1635 from a German edition of 1612, and this was reprinted in 1674, 1676, and 1727. Private library catalogues show continuous usage well into the nineteenth century.42 The Anglican Bishop Joseph Hall was equally well loved. His Character of Virtues and Vices (1608) was printed in Germany in three or more editions in fifty years: at Emden (1628), at Bremen (1652 and 1696), and at Helmstedt (1685). There were also three editions of his Bible History. These were printed at Breslau (1665–6 and 1672–4), and at Leipzig (1699). Several of his other devotional works like Balsam of Gilead were also printed. The same is true of Sweden. It was Spegel who translated his Meditations and Vows (1605) and his Holy Observations (1607) as the single undated Then gudfruchtige siäls stiernor. Significant, too, was the fact that Hall's Meditations had already been bound together with Bayly's Practice of Piety in a Swedish translation (1643).43 An interest in Anglican pastoral practice was apparent in the frequent reprinting of Bayly's Practice of Piety (1643) in Germany, Denmark, and Sweden. In this way, Bayly's pastoral experience at Kidderminster was made available to many German, Danish, and Swedish Lutheran clergy. Spener, especially, was impressed. In Germany, Bayly was published after translation at Zurich (1629), in Nuremberg (1643), Lüneburg (1632, 1649, 1654, and 1670), and Leipzig (1724). Bayly was loved for the seriousness with which he took his pastoral work. Justus Gesenius (1601–73), responsible as chief superintendent after 1640 for the reconstruction of the Hanoverian church, used Bayly as a guide for his own work as a popular catechist and restorer of pastoral provision in his Hanoverian parishes. Gesenius's own Praxis Devotionis, oder Übung Christlicher Andacht, printed at Lüneburg (1648 and 1649), was in many ways a

42

German editions: Beck, 180–1; Leube, Reformideen, 165. Swedish editions: Olsson, ‘Författerskapet’; Hellekant, Engelsk upbyggelseslitteratur, 25 passim. Svedberg loved it: Swedbergs lefwernes beskrifning, 550.

43

Waterhouse, 102, app. 166–8; Beck, 185–7. Spegel's translation of Hall: Hellekant, 102, 282. Swedish joint edition of Bayly and Halle, ibid. 34 passim.

38

REFORMATION AND CONTINUANCE OF REFORM

crib—particularly the third book, concerned with the sanctification of the Sabbath and regular congregational attendance in church—of Bayly. In fact, Gesenius was the first anonymous translator of the Practice of Piety printed by the Stern brothers at Lüneburg in 1632. If he remained anonymous for fear of reprisals in translating a ‘Puritan’ book, he regarded Bayly's pastoral and devotional writing as important enough to be a model and guide for Hanoverian parishioners in the very necessary reconstruction of parish order and devotional practice after 1648. In Sweden, Bayly attained a popularity equal to that of Parsons. The Swedish edition (1643) was printed in two parts: the first consisting of the Practice of Piety; the second, Hall's Art of Divine Meditation. Further printings took place (1709, 1730, 1748, and 1773). The Practice of Piety also appeared as excerpts in many seventeenth and eighteenth century official manuals and hymnbooks. Excerpts were included in manuals (1655, 1661, 1663, 1665, 1667, 1675, 1679, 1681, 1682, 1685, and 1688); also in Svedberg's Evangeliebok (1694), and the official Swedish hymn-book (1697), and its subsequent reprintings in the eighteenth century. The Swedish senior clergy such as Spegel and Svedberg valued the Practice of Piety above all for its emphasis on proper Sunday observance, regular Bible reading, the practice of regular daily prayer, and attention to the method and psychology of prayer.44 If English devotional literature was really marketed by the representatives of ‘Pietism’ and their presses in Germany and Scandinavia after 1700, an analysis of usage shows us that doctrinally orthodox Lutheran clergy such as Mayer praised English pastoral and devotional practice too. Both Mayer, and his predecessor Johann Balthasar Schupp, as Hamburg parish clergy (1649–61 and 1687–1701), drew on this experience. Schupp, who knew Bacon's views on education almost by heart, was very concerned with the need to improve knowledge of the Bible and the practice of regular daily prayers amongst his town congregation. Schupp was particularly impressed with Sunday observance practised by Hamburg's British colony. Mayer too, whilst he fought enthusiasm of every colouring (he translated Casaubon's Treatise concerning Enthusiasm into Latin in 1708), gave much attention to his Hamburg congregation acquiring a sense of proper devotional practice along Anglican

44

Germany: Beck, 183–4; Leube, Reformideen, 124 passim. Gesenius: Beck, 81–3; Gesenius copying Bayly and as translator: Graff, i. 243; Leube, Reformideen, 169–70. Bayly in Sweden: Lindquist, 63, 68; Hellekant, 36 passim ; Helander, Spegel, 137 passim.

A PROTESTANT CANON OF PRAYER

39

and Puritan lines. In the preface to his annual Bible Calendar he praised Anglican attention given to the practice of regular reading from Scripture by the Fathers of the Early Church. Mayer suggested that parishioners read two chapters of the Bible every day, but one only on Sunday, since those of weaker spiritual disposition might find two too much to bear. Mayer also emphasized that this was not so very different to the Lutheran tradition, since Luther in his Tischreden had mentioned reading through the Bible twice every year.45 One can say, too, that the appropriation of this English devotional practice by Lutheran parish clergy helped in a very large way to popularize Bible reading in Germany and Scandinavia after 1700. It was a popularity, given the more frequent printing of Bible excerpts, cheaper Halle Bibles, and a more technically advanced press, which outstripped for the first time the Bible production of the Reformation. Erbauungsliteratur after 1650 was thus not the preserve of what became known scurrilously at first as ‘Pietism’. Joachim Feller (1638–91), professor of poetry at Leipzig University after 1670, Thomasius's beloved teacher and brother-in-law, who coined, as a man sympathetic to Francke's religious views, the term ‘Pietism’ in 1689 in a satirical sonnet defending the memory of a Franckean student who had been criticized at his funeral by Johann Benedikt Carpzov (1639–99) for supporting a religious enthusiasm critical of Lutheran theology, performed unwittingly a great disservice to the future assessment of this Lutheran devotional canon, and its direct influence on eighteenth-century Lutheran renewal associated with Spener, Francke, and Zinzendorf in Germany and Scandinavia.46 Many Lutheran parish clergy of whatever theological tendency used this new lay devotional and vernacular literature. They liked its simple, often childlike style, which was full of colloquialisms and emblems taken from everyday life. They also approved of a path to individual salvation, which was apologetic, autobiographic, and written in the shape of a diary of spiritual and moral improvement. It was, therefore, as much of a return by clergy and laity to the Reformation's emphasis on congregational self-knowledge, the

45

Leube, Reformideen, 163 passim ; Lindquist, 262; facsimile of Mayer's Biblical Calendar, ibid. 265. Much later Herder used Mayer's translation of Casaubon for his own thoughts on ‘Enthusiasm’: Sämmtliche Werke (ed. Suphan), xxiv. 153 = Adrastea, iv (1802). Increased Bible production and reading: Lindquist, 308.

46

For Feller's sonnet, see the Bibliography.

40

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proper religious emotional state (Affektenlehre), and humility, as it was spiritual novelty implied by ‘Pietism’, which appeared almost too late to describe this widespread devotional behaviour in church and at home. Lutheran clergy of Germany and Scandinavia were in this respect indifferent to authorship and religious opinion. They translated authors such as Parsons or Bayly, even if they had to use anonymity or pseudonyms at first. To some extent, lack of first-hand knowledge of the religious state of the Anglican church made it easier not to worry about its religious factionalism. It also led to lots of printing errors: Bangor, to take a simple case, was ‘Bangoot’ in the first Lüneburg edition of the Practice of Piety. Lutheran parish clergy were primarily interested in their pastoral duty to end Christian ignorance, and to give comfort to their parishioners in the troubled times of the Great Northern War and War of the Spanish Succession. This meant more emphasis after 1700 than had been customary hitherto in Lutheran theology on the practice of individual moral retrenchment implicit in duty to God, oneself, and one's neighbour, which they found and liked for example in Anglican and Puritan devotional literature made available by the modern printing press.

3 Parish Crisis in a Credulous World I. The Baltic Region Almost incessant war between Sweden-Finland, Denmark-Norway, and the new powers (in 1700) BrandenburgPrussia and Russia, for mastery in the Baltic (1648–1721), coupled with the chance climatic effect of short wet summers and long severe winters on parishes reliant usually on a grain monoculture, caused great material and spiritual distress. In Sweden-Finland, there were seven major harvest failures during the Great Northern War (1697, 1705, 1706, 1708, 1709, 1717, and 1718). In addition, there were no men to do the fieldwork, and there was little food or cash as a result of Danish blockade, quartering, and increased taxation. Cost could be measured in deserted farmsteads, and the impoverishment of village parishes whose food they had provided. Parish registers noted an alarming increase in vagrancy. Stipends of country clergy, who depended on income from farming their glebe, and tithe contributions, plummeted.47 The same was true of Denmark-Norway, where available parish registers (1645/6–99) showed the existence anyway of highly mobile parishioners moving hopefully to parishes with better living standards. In Denmark, most moved from poor sand-ridden western Jutland (improvement only began with division of the commons c.1800, and wasteland reclamation by the Heath Society founded in 1866) to the richer soil of Fyn and Sjælland. Poor harvests and heavy wartime taxation, coupled with the attendant perils of quartering in areas such as southern Jutland and Fyn in the thick of wartime action, caused widespread desertion of farmsteads, and a decline in food production. A large homeless vagrant population (in 1700 as

47

Poor harvests: Axelson, Sveriges tillstånd på Karl XIIs tid, 13 passim ; effect of war, ibid. 35 passim.

42

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high as 10% in rural Sjælland) wrecked puny Lutheran parish chest provision in village parishes, and became visible as an alarming increase of beggars in market towns and in Copenhagen.48 Rural parishes, even on richer agricultural land such as the islands of Fyn and Sjælland, in 1700 resembled a wasteland suffering high mortality of infants and death through epidemic illnesses which came with disturbing regularity. This produced a mood of impending doom amongst rural parishioners. In a much more extreme way, the same was true of Finland, Estonia, and northern Livonia (in Courland, suffering was caused more by war), where the great famine (1695–7) had destroyed more than a quarter of the population. Parish disorientation was matched, however, by a Christian church which had never rooted deeply in the countryside, either before or after the Reformation. There had always been insufficient clergy to preach the Gospel, and their Latin university training fitted ill with rural dialect cultures. Pagan superstition, and Catholic rites which appealed to local popular religious observance, could thus easily coexist with official Lutheranism in 1700. The Catholic church survived visibly too in the medieval diocesan system, whose boundaries lasted in essentials until land and municipal reform in Sweden and Denmark c.1780–1840; and until land reform 1920–2 in the new Estonian and Latvian republics. The late medieval Catholic world was present too in the large number of Romanesque and Gothic churches in the Baltic region. Roughly 1,250 of Denmark's 2,000 stone parish churches were built c.1075–1250; cruciform vaulting and stained glass continued to shape church architecture in East Prussia until c.1780. A Reformation liturgy which was still sung, usually poorly, by parish priest or verger was memorized by a congregation used to looking and listening rather than to reading. Pictures and symbols on pews and pulpits enhanced this world's visual hold. A credulous pagan world and the late medieval Catholic Christian order were thus interchangeable as systems of rites and values in the minds of rural parishioners in a local parish order where calamity was localized. Few could see, we would say today objectively, the causes of their ailments at a time when scientific explanation was non-existent.

48

Mobility and vagrant poor: Bang, Kirkebogsstudier, 18, 21–2, 25–37; Holm, Danmark-Norges indre Historie, i. 328–39. Before the great fire (20 October 1728), roughly fivesevenths of Copenhagen's 75,000 citizens were immigrants; approx. 29% who took citizenship (1724–7) came from Jutland: Nielsen, Kjøbenhavn paa Holbergs tid, 273.

PARISH CRISIS IN A CREDULOUS WORLD

43

Parishioners had little sense of historical time, except that which was handed down orally within the extended family. The Lutheran church remained thus for most of the eighteenth century an ecclesia militans coexistent with pagan and Catholic beliefs and practices. The piety of Herrnhut, with its emphasis on relationship and touch, as evidenced in foot-washing, thus proved far more popular with this rural population than did clerical Pietism, though the latter as propagation of a vernacular Bible and hymn-book (in Danish, Swedish, Estonian, and Latvian) should not be underestimated.

II. Divine Intervention Anything could happen in this existential local world of stark contrasts between good (meaning having sufficient food) and bad times. In a time of war, harsh taxes, dearth, and epidemics, parishioners and clergy equally believed in the curse: in divine wrath and divine retribution and satisfaction. Lutheran Justification had meaning here. Last things and the Day of Judgement were present at every hour. Readings from the Old Testament and from the apocryphal books, by parish clergy and literate masters of households were also listened to eagerly. Talion as defined in the Mosaic law was both a real and spiritual presence. Catholic red-letter days in almanacs, and service-books filled with Catholic saints' days provided the hallowed order of a comforting church. In this way, Old Testament retribution in the shape of the Stool of Penitence in the parish church and stocks at its entrance, and the Catholic proprium sanctorum lasted until the middle of the nineteenth century in many Swedish parishes. Supernatural intervention as a sign or portent was also constantly noted by the educated élite of Lutheran parish and senior clergy. Bishop Jesper Svedberg believed in signs and portents as harbingers of troubled times. In his diary, he noted with reference to Swedish defeat at Poltava, a tremor in West Gotland on 3 October 1708, the bitter winter of 1708–9, and rain mixed with blood which fell on Soderbarke in 1709.49 Comets were a clear sign of divine intervention, benevolent or malevolent. Halley's comet of 1680 was linked by Christian Kelch (1657–1710), an Estonian clergyman who wrote the most instructive history of Estonia and Livonia during the Great Northern War, with the way Charles XI's Reduction put local

49

E. Linderholm, ‘Kometernas religiösa tolkning’, Bibelforskaren (1910), 255.

44

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German barons in order, and gave the Estonian peasantry hope of better times.50 But a comet could also be a sign of divine retribution. A young Swedish clergyman, Olof Broman (1676–1750), later the noted reforming rector of Hudiksvall (after 1728; Ch. 8), wrote in 1707 to a friend that he was in no doubt that awesome Jehovah often announced great national disasters with unusual and frightening portents like the many meteors, fiery northern lights, and thunderous noise in the heavens which he had experienced in Hälsingland during the war.51 His were not isolated observations. Most parish chronicles and registers were filled with notes on comets (and meteors) as signs of divine intervention, and as ‘harbingers of a coming disaster’, to use the words of one of the first scholarly attempts at definition (1727) by a German theologian.52 Natural disaster like famine was also taken as a sign of divine retribution. Kelch asked himself and his future readers, why did God have to punish Estonia's parishes with famine in the 1690s? He noted that Charles XI, their guardian, had died when deaths from famine peaked in 1697.53 Belief in supernatural occurrence was understandable in a world of hearsay. News—difficult to judge whether true or false—was transmitted by pedlars and colporteurs. The natural order for parishioners was filled with the dead who walked again; with dreams, visions, spirits, and relations with them. Demonic possession was a great fear long after the European witch craze and trials had ended. This was apparent in the importance given by Sweden's new Church Law and service-book to baptism during the main Sunday morning parish service with communion in the week after birth (eight days), to exorcism, and to the use of the sign of the cross.54 Even the clergy were not immune from the credulous world. Sitings of spooks in vicarages like the one at Roslagen (1729), or cases where a clergyman (1710) corresponded with a known Finnish Trollkarl about how to cure a sick colleague, were frequently recorded. In the latter case, the friend's cassock was sent along as well.

50

Kelch, Liefländische Historia (1695), i. 613.

51

‘Meteora et aquea, et aera et ignea . . . de förskräckliga chasmata, nord-blys, skybragd och andre sällsynte tecken’, Linderholm, ibid. 256.

52

‘Comet’, J. G. Walch, Philosophisches Lexikon (Leipzig, 1727): 4th edn. repr. (1775) (Olms/Hildesheim, 1968), cols. 608–14.

53

Kelch, Continuation, ii. 8–9, 49.

54

Kyrkolag, ch. 3 Om Döpelsen. Rules were relaxed first in 1864. Baptism was extended to six weeks, and could take place in the vicarage.

PARISH CRISIS IN A CREDULOUS WORLD

45

III. Customary Observance Two major issues preoccupied rural parish clergy for most of the eighteenth century: how to win parishioners over from the powers of darkness, and how to comfort the suffering parishioner who was overcome with grief. Parish chronicles, notes in registers, and clergy correspondence overflowed with this worry. Parish clergy repeatedly stressed the need for patience, knowledge of Luther's Little Catechism, the Ten Commandments, and prayer. But they were pessimistic about the chances of helping parishioners in parishes with few and inferior religious books. In Riga and Reval, both the Swedish authorities, who introduced Sweden's Church Law and service-book, and a German Lutheran parish clergy, were frankly pessimistic about the chances of propagating Lutheranism, given the mixture of paganism and Catholicism they met in rural parishes. Plenty stood in the way of imposing government order, and official religion. A grain monoculture on which parishioners depended (dairy farming was not introduced until the nineteenth century) meant, during a reasonable harvest, a staple diet of huskbread supplemented by a broth of beans, peas, lentils, sometimes cabbage, milk, and thin beer. Poor harvests and long winters meant eating what wild plants could be found. Poor nourishment was linked to harsh labour service and the brutal discipline of German manors producing for a grain-export market. As parishioners, the ethnic peasantry were also obliged since medieval times to pay taxes in kind (Reallasten), and tithe to the parish church and vicar. Thus, finding enough to eat was supplemented by onerous labour-service and tax burdens which produced a sense of fate, in the words of a German winter visitor (1673–4), ‘as if nature had decreed it’.55 Closeness to death and fear of punishment produced a strong spiritual need for comfort, and hope in providence. This was helped by handing down from one generation to the next, the habits associated with their forebears and of Catholic secular clergy and mendicant orders. Inherited oral experience survived in an exclusively local environment shaped by sparse settlement, large estates, and the habit of living as an extended family in windowless wooden huts, so small one could hardly stand upright, in which the peasant family ate, drank, threshed its corn, and slept on the floor at

55

Von Brand, Reyse (1702), 136.

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the end of an exhausting day. Estonian and Livonian parishes were simply too large for adequate parish care, and for regular attendance at church. The first parish statistics (1770–80) gave the size of an average Livonian parish as 200 square kilometres. A handful of parish churches served six to nine manors, and 200–300 peasant extended families, in all 2,000–3,000 souls.56 The observant traveller concluded that superstition would be rife in parishes served by less than a handful of clergy, and with tiny, mostly wooden parish churches (a few attractive late-medieval stone churches survived in Estonia and the northern part of Livonia) which lacked galleries. Many parish churches, like their counterparts in mainland Denmark, remained in a sorry state of disrepair, given both financial inability and unwillingness of patrons to maintain them, and the ruinous course of the war. Swedish authorities spent much time in commissions (c.1680–1710) admonishing landowners about the need for better care of their dependents, on the need to build stone churches and establish parish elementary schools, and to maintain food supply, but a basic lack of cash and of officials to carry out essential administration, and the long distances to be covered, reflected the basic inadequacy of the early modern state and its established church in hard times. Estonian and Livonian visitation reports continued blackly about poor attendance in church, and the lack of a basic grasp of the Ten Commandments and Luther's Little Catechism (1529). They were also filled with a constant worry about superstitious practices, Abgötterey.57 They noted in contrast, peasant belief in the Catholic symbolism of the patiently enduring mother, the Virgin Mary, and her redeeming son, Jesus, as providers of comfort and protection against the Devil and his works. The pilgrim instinct and habit remained strong too. Soil near former Catholic country chapels and wells was associated with the Virgin Mary, and regarded as hallowed. The same was true of peasant charity. It is recorded in a visitation report (1713), that it was customary to reply on receipt of a gift, ‘rich Mary will reward you’.58 A close association with the Stations of the Cross was apparent in many Ristemaggi: heights on which a cross (Golgotha) was erected. Offerings and devotion were made and performed also at copses and crossroads: spots where there had been either unconsecrated chapels built by local peasantry, or consecrated

56

Schaudinn, Deutsche Bildungsarbeit, 14.

57

Westrén-Doll, ‘Abgötterey’, 7–25.

58

Ibid. 13.

PARISH CRISIS IN A CREDULOUS WORLD

47

chapels-of-ease built in Catholic times. Catholic saints were worshipped too. St Thomas was invoked against pestilence; St Mark against sickness in cattle. At Odenpäh (Otepää), it was recorded (1683), the peasantry led lame horses round St Mark's chapel. A report from the parish of Hallist (1723) noted offerings left in a local chapel associated with St Anne in the hope of curing eye diseases and other ailments. All of these rites were connected with the need to prevent, cure, and give hope. Other rites were related to an agricultural calendar governed by prognosis and appeasement of the elements. This was natural in a peasant economy with an inadequate knowledge of husbandry. A large amount of material can still be found in parish archives (those which have survived 1940–91) on magical rites connected with labour, weather, and the harvest. Popular devotion, offerings, and festivity happened usually on the spring, summer, and autumn saints' days of the Catholic calendar: Antony, John the Baptist (midsummer), Peter and Paul, Bartholomew, Lawrence, Michael, Dionysius; and the major church festivals of Easter, Whitsun, the fourteen days before Ascension, Ascension, and especially, Corpus Christi. A case was reported where Corpus Christi drew large numbers of peasants from Russian and Latvian-speaking parishes too. A table was laid with lighted candles, on which offerings of beeswax, butter, sour milk, cheese, eggs, and cakes were laid. A shaman was also present. The party ended with a good drink of beer and spirits.59 It goes without saying that these rites were held often at the time of annual markets, which was the reason why local parish clergy were critical of Sweden's ecclesiastical calendar (this included until 1772 the days of the Apostles), and why Swedish officials were insistent on markets not being held on Sundays or saints' days. The burial rite was also a mixture of the Catholic and the profane, rather than Lutheran. Peasants often buried their loved ones in places where their ancestors were buried. The spot was known in Estonian as a chapel (kalm, plural kalmed; Finnish Kalama, Kalamo).60 This was a place usually bordered by trees; often named St Mary's land or the Lord's land. The saying, ‘St Mary's soil is everywhere’ was common, and parish wells dedicated to St Mary ubiquitous. Consecration of private burial spots conferred by family tradition was as necessary as official consecration of the parish graveyard. However, this burial

59

Ibid. 12–13.

60

Hausmann, ‘Ausserkirchliche Begräbnisplätze’, 140–1.

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practice was not only associated with popular religion. It was often the result of the distance to church, and an inability to pay burial fees. Visitations frequently asked whether the deceased had been buried elsewhere than in the parish graveyard? How much had been paid in fees? These reports show the widespread practice of burying along the wall of the parish graveyard, in bushes, and near former Catholic chapels. One Swedish statute after another tried to stop this practice. They stated that parishioners, if they could, should pay fees; where possible disinterment should take place, the proper Lutheran burial rite be performed, and that the very poor were freed from the obligation to pay fees for burial and bell-ringing. Local deanery meetings, however, reinforced a general complaint about terrible roads which made worship, pastoral care, and proper burial difficult. However, all the attempts to stamp out such burial practice broke down in a subsistence economy in deep crisis. During the famine (1695–7), parishioners died in hundreds and thousands on roads, in ditches, and hedges. General Boris Seremetev's laying waste the land in the war which followed in 1700, and the plague of 1710, ended any hope of preventing burial in these places. Church and state were too puny to cope. A constant stream of worried letters from local parish clergymen, such as that of the vicar of Ponal (Laane-Nigula) to Bishop Salemann (1629–1701) dated April 1697, lay on the desks of despairing bishops.61 He wrote of how he had received no tithe and no fees for services from his parishioners the previous autumn; theft was increasing; his parish chest was rifled; he guarded his vicarage and animals daily; there was simply nothing left; his parishioners could not even sell or eat what cattle were left since these were manorial property; they ate thistles and other weeds; dysentery and other nasty illnesses from eating infected meat were widespread. What is apparent from such letters is a feeling of desperation at not being able to help. A letter from the incumbent of Oberpahlen (Poltsamaa), Estonia's largest parish (2 May 1696), mentioned a very large number of vagrant young children and old people normally cared for in the peasant extended family. Pastors in the end buried parishioners without asking for fees. This was symptomatic of a Lutheran parish system which relied, given lack of cash to build poor houses and hospitals, on the extended family to look after its own. The system broke down inevitably during famine, war, and plague. The few towns such as Riga, Reval, Narva, and Dorpat

61

Liiv, Suur näljaaeg Eestis, no. 16.

PARISH CRISIS IN A CREDULOUS WORLD

49

could not master subsistence crisis either. Reval was in a difficult position especially, since the famine was worst in northern Estonia. Its granaries were meant for export and feeding military personnel. The magistracy tried according to the letter of Sweden's church law to make country people return home to parish care. It also tried to enforce this responsibility on landowners. In 1697, Reval and Dorpat took corn from their granaries, and baked a meal a day to be distributed in the town infirmaries. This was inadequate. Where did one house this ever-increasing population? On 3 December 1697 Reval's city council decreed that parishes must look after their own, and the city-guard was ordered to forbid further entry. The same happened in Narva. Those who violated rules and were unlucky enough to get caught were severely punished. A certain Annika Carman who suffocated her baby against her breast in despair during Vespers on Ascension day, was tried, beheaded by sword, and her body burnt in public by the hangman on 18 May 1698.62

IV. Propagation of the Gospel Long-term parish crisis thus put into stark relief the extent to which Reformation teaching had taken hold in the hearts and minds of rural parishioners. It forced Charles XI, his local governors, and parish clergy to re-examine Reformation teaching and discipline. The need to spread the Gospel also lay behind the legislative consolidation and enforcement by absolute-minded kings and princes after c.1680 (Ch. 5). Continuous parish crisis hampered this work. Trying to make new Reformation monarchies efficient meant not only stamping out parochial ignorance via the provision of parish schools to raise standards of literacy, but also amongst senior and parish clergy, better standards of pastoral care. Literacy became at this time a precondition of full citizenship. Sweden's Church Law enforced an obligatory examination of Christian knowledge contained in Luther's Little Catechism and a supplementary authorized Catechism (1689), in the home (known as Husförhör) by the parish clergyman.63 But improving a parochial understanding of Reformation truth was an uphill task. Two obvious examples are Bishops Spegel and Svedberg, bishops

62

Ibid. no. 212.

63

Kyrkolag, ch. 24, § 22; Pleijel, ‘Husförhör och läsmöten’ in, Husandakt, Husaga, Husförhör, 74 passim.

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REFORMATION AND CONTINUANCE OF REFORM

of Linköping (1693–1711), and Skara (1702–17); two of the chief dioceses in central Sweden. Apart from trying to make their diocesan clergy better preachers, they spent considerable time on parish visitation in which they personally instructed their parishioners in Lutheran doctrine. At his first diocesan meeting (1693), Spegel instructed his clergy how to propagate the Gospel. The Ten Commandments were to be the subject of three introductory sermons; on the following three Sundays they should preach sermons on the Lutheran religious articles; in turn, there were to be two sermons on the Lord's Prayer and the sacraments of baptism and communion, with a concluding sermon on the keys to the kingdom of heaven as outlined in Sweden's Church Law.64 Spegel knew well from his visitations how poorly provided his parishes were with Bibles and New Testaments. They were too expensive, distribution was poor, reading ability was still elementary, instruction at the home or by the parish verger was amateurish. A grasp of Lutheran teaching was not improved by seating in parish churches which was either insufficient, or, by giving precedence to officials and local gentry, blocked off communication between the vicar and his congregation. It was bad enough in Linköping cathedral itself, where as bishop, Spegel was placed third in pews reserved first for the county governor (Landshöfding), and second for the local gentry. Luther's Little Catechism was the key to Spegel's pastoral churchmanship. His Sunday sermon applied the virtutes catecheticae. This, given Spegel's warm-hearted reception of Heinrich Müller's and Spener's pastoral teaching, and Anglican models, put emphasis on the heart as much as the head: on feeling a need to pray. The Little Catechism was a book for children and the home, rather than some dull disciplinary manual. Spegel thus published for children his own collection of bible texts for Sundays and the Christian year called a Barnalexor. This could be used for teaching in church and at home. If Spegel was relatively successful in his diocese in improving an ability to read, and Christian knowledge, his pastoral work was constantly compromised by parish inertia he knew all too well. Parishioners often failed to turn up at the appointed hour, because they feared exposing their ignorance of the catechism. Spegel therefore advised his clergy (1694) to treat older parishioners prudenter cum rigore.65 Habits and rites associated

64

Westling, ‘Om Kyrkans verksamhet’, 251; ‘the keys’: Kyrkolag ch. 10, § 2.

65

Westling, ‘Kyrkans verksamhet’, 261.

PARISH CRISIS IN A CREDULOUS WORLD

51

with the enclosed and communal extended family of Sweden's rural social order conflicted with Christian ethics. The large section on marriage defining kindred and affinity, especially cousinage, in Sweden's Church Law was symptomatic.66 Similar problems confronted Bishop Svedberg, who took the same view, and practised the same practical methods in Skara. He was horrified by parochial ignorance, and worse still, by a clergy who, he suspected, liked to fill their studies with fashionable clothes, rapiers, and muskets, rather than with homiletic books necessary for the Sunday sermon.67 Svedberg was one of the most diligent visitors; one who took Scriver to heart in trying to know all his parishes and parishioners. Parishioners were not allowed to take an indifferent view of their parish church. Svedberg spent some four to six hours during visitations in the parish church discussing the catechism with parishioners and testing their reading ability. Like Spegel, he stressed the value of prayer at home and in church, and the importance of treating Sunday as a day set aside for devotion as a confession of the heart to God. Like Spegel, he valued the Puritan and Anglican Sunday. This patient and hard pastoral work by these bishops, and by a reasonably diligent, if often severely criticized, parish clergy was slow and often unyielding in results, given the strength of local parish habit, and the cost and ineffective distribution of a vernacular religious literature.68 In Estonia and Livonia, senior clergy, often acting on a prompt from their fellow clergy in Stockholm's consistory, realized that the only way forward came in uniting diligent and warm pastoral care with instruction in the language parishioners spoke. How could parishioners know the Ten Commandments, Lord's Prayer, and catechism if they were not put in their own language? What was the point of making confession before Sunday parish communion, if a German or Swedish vicar had to use his verger as translator? How could the service contained in Sweden's authorized service-book be conducted if there were no translations, nor adequate vernacular hymn-books and prayer-books? The answers to these questions required an obstinate patience. If an extremely rudimentary reading ability, standards of printing, and

66

Kyrkolag, ch. 15 Om Trolofning och Ächtenskap : marriage was allowed for ‘Syskonebarn ’ (nephews, nieces), § 9; ch. 16, Om Skilnadt i Trolofningar och Ächtenskap. Swedish cousinage was a knotty legal issue in Swedish Pomerania: Berger, Rechtsgeschichte Vorpommern, 43–4.

67

Tottie, Svedberg ii. 28.

68

Ibid. 28 and 87 passim.

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a general lack of books hampered reform, the question of authority in Estonia and Livonia made matters worse. German barons as parish patrons, town councils, and the consistories of Reval, Riga, and Dorpat, battled bitterly with one another and Stockholm over infringements of local rights and procedures. Things came to a head under Fischer's general superintendency (1674–99). As a close friend of Spener, he naturally supported the similar warm-hearted pastoral churchmanship of colleagues such as Svedberg and Spegel. His home in Riga became a place for parish clergy to discuss the work of translating the Swedish service-book, Bible, and hymn-book into Estonian and Latvian, and his press became the means for their distribution. Fischer printed a Latvian quarto Bible (1689), Latvian hymn-book (1686), Latvian service-book (1690), and a Latvian version of Luther's Little Catechism (1689). All were shortly reprinted. However, Fischer's reforms coincided with the brief introduction (until 1710) of the Swedish consistory at Riga (1693/4): a chapter of clergy in contrast to the German consistory mixing equal numbers of clergy and lay assessors chaired by a layman; in this case a German baron. Rows over this imposition as an infringement of local rights, and administrative competence and procedure in general between the still ‘mixed’ German local consistories of Reval and Riga led to a situation where clergy of the two dioceses rarely spoke with each other. This was bad, not only for parishioners in troubled times, but also for the patient, difficult work of translation into two phonetically different Finno-Ugric Estonian dialects (Reval northern and Dorpat southern), and a third Slav language, Latvian. German clergy spilt much ink about whether to retain Luther's German orthography, or make concessions to a phonetic rendering of Estonian and Latvian peasant speech. The first hymn-book in prose with German and Estonian parallel texts, had been published in the north Estonian dialect by Heinrich Stahl (d. 1657) at Reval (1637). The first edition in verse appeared as a service-book (1656), and was subsequently reprinted (1679, 1693). But a new generation of parish clergy, who saw the importance of reproducing in print peasant diction for spreading the Christian Gospel, were not impressed. The first combined alphabet and catechism following new north-Estonian orthography was published (1687) by the Swede, Bengt Johann Forselius (d. 1688).69 It was

69

s.v. Recke-Napiersky; Wieselgren, ‘Forselius und die estnische Volksschule’, Vetenskaps-Societeten i Lund Årsbok (1942), 65–128; detailed letter on Virginius's orthography, Forselius to Bishop Gerth, 28 June 1687, ibid. 94–8.

PARISH CRISIS IN A CREDULOUS WORLD

53

promptly banned by Reval's conservative German consistory. However, a south Estonian version as a combined hymn- and prayer-book in verse had been published (1685) by the young German clergyman, Adrian Virginius (1663–1706) under Fischer's supervision. This had introduced for the first time Estonian orthography. It used names such as Tawud, Petlemm, and Jahn rather than the Germanic Dawidi, Bethlemes, and Johannes for the New Testament characters.70 Virginius applied the same treatment to the liturgical order of the Swedish mass contained in the servicebook (1693), for the Te Deum, Creed, Agnus Dei, Kyrie, and Da Pacem, with the difference that these were printed in prose, given their central place in the liturgy. Virginius also did the same in his translation of the New Testament (1686), and in the second edition of his hymn-book (1685) as a service-book (1690). However, hope of winning more general acceptance of phonetic treatment stopped here. It was a different matter when Fischer allowed Virginius to apply the same treatment to north Estonian versions of the hymn-book and New Testament. Fischer, aware of the screams of ‘innovation’ and a ‘heszliche neue Schreibart’ by his colleagues in Reval, implored Charles XI to support this work of translation into the three spoken languages of his Livonian diocese, and Virginius's phonetic translations. He pointed out that Swedish and Finnish translations also departed orthographically from Luther's text. The result was a tragi-comedy of communication. Virginius's subsequent translations of the New Testament into north Estonian (1688), and especially his service-book (1694), which aimed to replace Stahl's which he considered to be a bad servicebook in its new version (1693), were banned as a result of Reval's pressure on Charles XI, who, too far away to understand the arguments involved, feared like his loyal Estonian bishop (since 1693), Joachim Salemann, possible disturbance of religious uniformity in introducing Virginius's ‘piquant’ phonetic translations to parishes. Fischer, crestfallen at this lack of support, resigned in 1699. His press, lacking its patron, continued for a few years until 1713. Virginius, for his part, as vicar of Odenpäh (Otepää) after 1702, was unlucky enough to be imprisoned and tortured by Russian troops. For allegedly corresponding with Swedish military officers, Virginius was eventually beheaded at the

70

H. Salu, ‘1685 Års sydestniska psalmbok’, Sv.E (1949), 170–1.

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request of the Russian commandant at Dorpat on 27 July 1706. If all this hard work to help peasant parishioners understand their Christian faith better seemed to come to nought at the end of Swedish rule in Estonia and Livonia (it was a cruel irony that Forselius should drown on his return to Stockholm and Virginius be beheaded for treason), such enterprise was nevertheless a milestone in the direction of improved Christian knowledge amongst parishioners and better pastoral care. This laid the foundation for the successful spread of Hallesian Pietism both during and after the Great Northern War in Estonia and Livonia, and via this conduit, to the post-war Swedish mainland.

4 The Political Parish and 1648 I. A Blind Ofcial Eye to Parish Convention The correspondence between Apostolic Vicars of the Northern Mission (resident in Hanover since 1667) and Rome recorded amazement at the bizarre Protestant parishscape, shaped by customary religious arrangements following the Treaty of Osnabrück, which they found on their travels. Their reaction, however, was to live and let live, even if popes and curia remained extremely intolerant and aggressive. By 1700, the phrase, ‘Papa dissimulat non videt quod omnes vident’ was a way of saying privately that it was no longer worth spilling more blood, or even much official ink.71 Protestant princes were forced by customary religious arrangements to ease in practice the requirements of religious uniformity. The sonorous preamble enumerating Charles XI's titles in Sweden's Church Law (1686): ‘We Charles, by God's grace, King of Sweden, the Goths and Wends, Grand Prince of Finland, Duke of Scania, Estonia, Livonia, Carelia, Bremen, Verden, Stettin-Pomerania, the Cassubs and Wends, Prince of Rügen, and Lord of Ingria and Wismar; also Count of the Rhenish Palatinate, and Duke of Jülich, Cleves and Berg,’ etc., looked grand on parchment, but Swedish Lutheran uniformity based on an episcopal succession, twelve cathedral chapters composed solely of clergy, and a liturgy which remained close to the Ordinary and Proper of the Latin mass, was forced to compromise with lands as diverse as Lutheran western Pomerania (until 1814), Lutheran Estonia, and Livonia (until 1710) governed by the descendants of German knights (Ritterschaften), or Reformed Bremen and Verden (until 1721) which were subject to Dutch Reformed religious influence. Lutheran and Reformed

71

Nottarp, ‘Zur Communicatio in sacris cum haereticis’, Schriften der Königsberger Gelehrten Gesellschaft, 9 (1933), 17–18. Agostino Steffani (1654–1728), Apostolic Vicar (1709–22), was a gifted musician and composer of opera. A favourite hobby was liturgical practice in churches with simultaneous worship.

56

REFORMATION AND CONTINUANCE OF REFORM

German gentry, townsmen, and clergy had an acute sense of local rights in which an identity conferred by Reformation religious tradition remained paramount. In Estonia and Livonia, Sweden's Church Law in the shape of three German editions published in Stockholm and Riga (1687) became law during 1694/5. A three-cornered contest broke out immediately over rights and procedures between Stockholm, German barons, and Lutheran German parish clergy following German Reval and Riga Reformation church order. The latter served German, Estonian (split by local dialects), and Latvian congregations. Church government, as long as Swedish chapters existed, was stonewalled by German barons. They simply failed to attend parish visitations. Under Russian rule after 1710, this system was abolished, and in 1711 the German consistory with equal numbers of clergy and lay assessors under a Landrat elected by German barons was reintroduced.72 On the other hand, Sweden's Church Law (third edition, Reval 1777) continued as customary church law and observance until 1918, given the lack of change made in the Law for the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in the Russian Empire (1832). Sweden's new service-book (1693) was another example of accommodation with local usage. Designed to accompany Sweden's Church Law, it was published (1708) in Latvian at Riga, and in Estonian in Reval. The Swedish liturgy was used until 1805, though local patrons and clergy obviously modified it to suit local circumstances.73 Questions presented in 1691 by Estonian and Livonian clergy to the senior consistory in Stockholm, and the royal response, give us a glimpse of how Swedish uniformity was reshaped by local observance. Charles XI and his senior clergy were forced to recognize parish problems connected with size, poor communication, a harsh climate in winter, dispersed peasant farms and manors, and an ethnic peasantry with its own religious observances. Although Charles XI pointed out that the Lutheran order of service had to follow Swedish practice, he did agree to two customary Sunday sermons only in Livonian and Estonian towns, rather than the three customary in Sweden, and to the abolition of Mattins and Vespers

72

Stählin, ‘Verfassung der Livländischen Landeskirche’ ZSSRGkA 52 (1932), 320–1. Consistorial government under a Landrat was reaffirmed by a decree (1743) of the Russian Senate: O. Sild, Kirikuvisitatsioonid eestlaste maal, 137–8.

73

Buddenbrock, ii/2. 1632, 1641.

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on Sundays in country churches. It was impractical to have three Swedish Sunday services in large parishes lacking enough clergy, and where distance made church attendance at the appointed hour impossible. It was agreed to have prayers and catechism in place of the Swedish Wednesday service with a sermon. German parish clergy considered regular weekly instruction in Christian knowledge essential in parishes rife with superstition. Barons with their domestics, and peasantry who lived too far from the parish church were to attend prayers and catechism at the manor house. Swedish public worship on days of the Apostles was not introduced, since it was argued that this was neither customary nor advisable with peasant parishioners who still clung to Catholic rites and observances. Even the Swedish official six months of mourning had to be shortened in Estonian and Livonian rural parishes, since it was necessary for a peasant widow or widower to continue to provide for his or her farm-hands.74 If these were only a few of the problems which two of Sweden's provinces presented to the legislator, what hope was there for religious uniformity in a kingdom and empire (until 1721) where the uncolonized outback was larger than the governable whole? An attempt (1688) was made to impose Sweden's Church Law on western Pomerania, but this was successfully opposed by the local German gentry.75 The only visible sign of Swedish enforcement was a strict conventicle act (1694) which lasted until the milder religious climate of the 1740s rendered it null and void. Local parish custom, possibly more than anything else, tempered an attempted Caroline religious uniformity. Reformed Prussian electors and kings faced similar problems as lords of an inheritance resembling more of a disorderly religious archipelago than a kingdom professing since 1613 one Hohenzollern Reformed religion. King Frederick I, as he styled himself at Königsberg in 1701, the Lutheran capital of his Prussian heartland, was also margrave in Brandenburg, duke in Cleves, Crossen, Geldern, Magdeburg, Pomerania, and Stettin; prince in Kammin, Halberstadt, Moers, Minden, and Neuchâtel; count in Hohenstein,

74

Reference to church services: Kyrkolag, ch. 2, § § 3, 4, 7. Distance to church was also provided for in Norrland and Finland (ch. 2 § 7): the weekday service took place on Saturday afternoons to allow parishioners to stay overnight. The mourning period: Kyrkolag, ch. 15, § 24; Governor General Julius Count de la Gardie's declaration thereon: Buddenbrock, ii/2. 1656; observance of the days of the Apostles (until 1772), ch. 14, § i: criticism, Buddenbrock, ii/2. 1705.

75

Berger, Rechtsgeschichte Vorpommern, 43–4.

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Limburg, Lingen, the Mark, Ravensberg, Regenstein, Ruppin, Tecklenburg, Vallengin, and Wollin, and baron of innumerable baronies.76 It was not easy to govern, either politically or religiously, the parishes of territories in 1700 which were markedly different from each other in religious character, and open geographically to different religious influence. (A primary division between Lutheran east and Reformed west was to surface with a vengeance when a constitutional Union between Lutheran and Reformed parishes was imposed after 1817—and especially with the imposition of a royal liturgy after 1822.) East Prussia belonging to the old duchy of Prussia is a good example of customary development. Carved out of a church province which had formerly belonged to the Teutonic order, Lutheran East Prussia was a province whose parishes had also been settled since the late sixteenth-century by Dutch and Scottish Calvinist tradesmen and craftsmen. These settlers integrated easily and contributed much to local Lutheran parish churches. The parish council of Königsberg's Burgkirche, built in 1701, remembered the generous donations of Königsberg's British community by reserving the first fourteen pews for their use in perpetuity.77 These parishes were also patronized in 1700 by a local nobility who had converted to Calvinism in the seventeenth century, and they included Mennonites, Socinians expelled from Poland (1658), and a Catholic population in Lithuanian-speaking districts. All of these religious minorities had found sanctuary under rulers who saw commerce and state-building as more important than religious uniformity. Sovereignty over East Prussia, gained by the Great Elector at the expense of Poland at the peace of Oliva (1660), also helped him and his successors to continue this policy unhindered by the arrangements of Osnabrück.78 In the other five groups of territories, denominational structure and customary practice also strongly suggested to the Reformed Hohenzollerns the political wisdom of a degree of religious toleration. Brandenburg and the eastern Prussian part of Pomerania were mainly Lutheran. The Westphalian territories of Minden, Ravensberg, Tecklenburg, and Lingen, like the Rhine territories of

76

Pariset, L'État et les Églises, 4–19, 21.

77

K. H. Ruffmann, ‘Engländer und Schotten in den Seestädten Ost- und Westpreuβens’, ZfO 7 (1958), 33.

78

Grossmann, ‘Religious Toleration in Germany’, Studies on Voltaire 201 (1982), 125.

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the Mark, Cleves, Moers, and Geldern, possessed all the anomalous qualities which historical accident and custom could confer on the composition of parishes. Lingen and Geldern were totally Catholic; Cleves over 50 per cent Catholic; the other provinces united Lutherans, Reformed, and Catholics. Lingen personified what happened if the Jus reformandi was applied too rigorously: its inhabitants converted to Lutheranism at the Reformation; were converted back to Catholicism by force under Spanish rule after 1555, only to experience under the Orange rule which followed (1577–1633), the forcible imposition of a Dutch Counter-Reformation. In 1702, the county became Prussian through entail, and was united with Tecklenburg. Lingen resembled in religious affairs, in the words of a local historian writing in 1866, a ‘Westphalian Ireland’.79 Lingen Catholics had lost the right of public worship in their churches and all the civic privileges connected with membership of the local ruler's faith. Prussian kings were thus forced to a certain tolerance simply to ensure their survival. In 1717, Catholics in Lingen received the first recognition by a Prussian ruler of simple private worship at home. Thuringian territories which came Prussia's way in 1648—the lands of the old Catholic archbishopric of Magdeburg and bishopric of Halberstadt—brought parish problems consisting of surviving Catholic rites, and Catholic public worship in remaining diocesan monasteries and nunneries. Brandenburg-Prussia was thus a kingdom where religious complexion at parish level dictated religious toleration from successive rulers if they wished to exist politically and to gain tradesmen and craftsmen necessary for economic development.80 Thomasius, professor of jurisprudence at the new Prussian university of Halle, one of the pioneers of modern Protestant canon law, thus used Magdeburg's mild Lutheran church order as a model for his lectures on church history and law. This did not put too much emphasis on the enforcement of uniform public worship, given Magdeburg's religious patchwork and anomalous religious observances which had grown with time.

79

H. Kampschulte, Geschichte der Einführung des Protestantismus im Bereiche der jetzigen Provinz Westfalen (Paderborn, 1866), 443 passim; Pariset, 745–76.

80

Prussian electors and kings were not models of toleration in their use of Jus reformandi : Catholics in provinces such as Cleves would gladly have put aside the Ryswick clause for the sake of religious peace: Woker, Agostino Steffani, 99 passim ; Borgmann, Deutsche Religionsstreitigkeiten, 32.

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II. The Home Parish and Simultaneous Arrangements Osnabrück's instrument of peace created a parish map defined by exercitium religionis publicum, exercitio religionis privatum, and devotio domestica as practised on 1 January 1624. Johann Jakob Moser described the system legally in his Neue Teutsche Staatsrecht (1750). Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed public worship was announced by public bell-ringing as a sign of the right to public worship and public baptism, marriage, and burial. Devotio domestica no longer meant Luther's private prayer at home, but legal recognition that religious minorities could say prayers behind closed doors ‘with a free conscience’. The local ruler could, however, deny this right, and demand that a parishioner leave his land.81 Osnabrück ruled in favour of the largest denomination in the parish, since it owned the parish church. This followed the medieval canon law principle ‘quidquid est in parochia; est etiam de parochia’, otherwise known in German as Pfarrbann, or Pfarrzwang. There was only one parish with exclusive territorial rights: all who lived in the parish belonged to it legally. Our modern idea that a parish might include other denominations outside the jurisdiction of the parish church only began to be recognized at the end of the eighteenth century in legislation such as the relevant clauses of Prussia's Code, Allgemeines Landrecht (1794).82 In this parish system, all residents in the parish were responsible for tithe and other dues necessary to support the parish clergyman's stipend, maintenance of the church and its fabric, and the parish school. The parishioner, regardless of religious denomination, was obliged to use the parish church for baptism, marriage, and burial. This meant paying a parish clergyman appropriate fees. A member of another denomination could receive the sacrament from the parish priest; but, with time, it became customary to use one's own pastor, while fees continued to be paid to the parish clergyman. Payment of tithe and fees by all parish residents continued even beyond 1918 in several Landeskirchen. In the city of Königsberg, tithe from property was paid to the Lutheran church regardless of whether the owner was a Catholic or Calvinist, or not of the Christian faith. The same was true of Lutheran

81

Public worship: IPO, v. §§ 31, 34; emigration: v. §§ 30, 36, 37. Moser, ‘Von der Landeshoheit im Geistlichen’ Neue Teutsche Staatsrecht (Frankfurt am Main, 1773), 234, 237; Grossmann, 117 passim.

82

Nottarp, 2. Pfarrzwang was gradually abolished in the German federal states c. 1818–1904: J. Freisen, Die katholische und protestantische Pfarrzwang.

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Sweden, where Catholics and other religious denominations paid their church taxes and fees for registration to the national Lutheran church.83 This could work the other way. The north German Protestant parish map of 1624 bound Protestant parishioners in a similar way to the property and patronage of Catholic monasteries and nunneries included in their Grundherrschaft recognized by Osnabrück. This was true of the prince-bishopric of Hildesheim in Hanover, as it was with Catholic foundations in Prussian Halberstadt and Magdeburg. The latter, for example, consisted of the three Benedictine abbeys, Huysberg, Ringelheim, and Lamspringe to the north of Halberstadt; the six Benedictine and Dominican monasteries and nunneries in the city of Halberstadt; the Benedictine abbey, Ammensleben, and the Cistercian nunneries, Adersleben, Hedersleben, Meyendorf, Egeln, Althaldensleben, and St Agneten near Magdeburg. All these abbeys, monasteries, and nunneries, especially those in the countryside, usually endowed with large landed estates, had feudal rights (Hörigkeit) over the local Protestant peasantry, and were patrons of local Protestant churches. A colourful example of this is also provided by Lutheran Lusatia in Electoral Saxony. In the treaty of Prague (1635), in which Bohemia had ceded Lusatia to Electoral Saxony, the Saxon elector promised to maintain for posterity the two large thirteenth-century Cistercian nunneries: Marienstern near Kamenz, and Mariental near Zittau. The extensive estates of both nunneries gave abbesses the right of patronage to many Lutheran parish churches. Both Catholic abbesses thus appointed the Lutheran parish clergyman, and once a year he was obliged to stay at each abbey overnight, on the eve of the name-day of the abbess, and to attend the main service and festive meal on the day itself. The practice continued in the Saxon Free State after 1918, only coming to an end in about 1933 (the year Hitler came to power). Needless to say, the effects of 1624 could work the other way round: the Lutheran abbess of Herford was patron of the Catholic parish of Rheine in Westphalia, and exercised similar rights.84 This was a tune which could be played almost any way one liked. Likewise it was possible for a majority denomination in a parish to

83

Nottarp, 3.

84

‘Omnia quoque monasteria, fundationes et sodalitia mediata, quae die prima Januarii anno 1624 Catholici realiter possederunt possideant et ipsi similiter utut in Augustanae Confessionis Statuum territoriis et ditionibus ea sita sint’, IPO, v. § 26; Nottarp, 5–6.

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become a minority after 1624. This happened to Lutheran Silesia as such. Most Reformation parishes were forcibly returned to Catholicism in a Counter-Reformation which continued until Frederick the Great called a halt in 1740. The large medieval parish churches were returned to Catholic congregations, and Lutherans were obliged to pay fees to the local Catholic parish priest. However, Osnabrück and Altranstädt provided for a few new Lutheran churches, the socalled Friedenskirchen (1648) and Gnadenkirchen (1707) to be half-timbered and built on the outer glacis —Emperor Joseph I even allowed towers and bells—in front of the town gates in Schweidnitz, Hirschberg, Landeshut, and several other places.85 Another variant specific to Germany, symptomatic of the difficulty of legislating in a generally applicable way for historical accident and customary practice, was an acknowledged right to simultaneous usage of a parish church. This meant a division of the church. It was usual to leave the choir, formerly the seat of the Catholic chapter, to the Catholic congregation, and the nave to the Protestants. This was the practice in many Silesian churches, and in the denominationally mixed landscape of south-western Germany. There were also plenty of particular examples such as the court church of the elector palatine, Heiligengeist, in Heidelberg (1705–19), the cathedral of Wetzlar, the seat of the Reichshofgericht, and Bautzen cathedral in Electoral Saxony. Congregations were divided by an iron trellis, or wall. Simultaneous usage could also mean successive use of the church. Concession to customary practice even accommodated the use of a portable altar by Catholic priests. The legal aspect of the division of property could mean a complex arithmetical equation of co-ownership, or a clear division of church-ownership as was practised in the cathedral of Bautzen. Some of these simultaneous arrangements may seem most bizarre to us, but they make the point about living with local religious tradition. Here is a north German example. The parishioners of the parish church of Goldenstedt (after 1803 included in the duchy of Oldenburg), practised simultaneous usage throughout the period

85

In 1707 the emperor allowed towers and bells for the Friedenskirchen Schweidnitz, Jauer, and Glogau, but parochial rights and fees were still due to the Catholic parish priest: Conrads, Altranstädter Konvention, 171–2; six Gnadenkirchen were granted by the emperor: Landeshut, Hirschberg, Sagan, Freystadt; Militisch, and Teschen (Upper Silesia). The churches Landeshut and Hirschberg in line with Swedish patronage were modelled by Swedish architects on St Catherine, Stockholm: Conrads, 252 passim.

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between the Reformation and 1850, when a Gustavus Adolphus church was built for its Lutheran parishioners. This customary practice was due to Catholic and Lutheran parishioners standing up for their right to exercise public worship over the years in a series of rows between the local Lutheran counts of Diepholz and the Catholic princebishops of Münster over who possessed Territorialhoheit after the Reformation. Lutheran parishioners were allowed to use the Catholic parish church (Goldenstedt was almost 75 per cent Catholic in the eighteenth century). It became customary to have common Catholic and Lutheran public worship without any division of seating arrangements. The Catholic priest sang the mass and preached the sermon; the Lutheran verger led the hymns, which were exclusively Lutheran, and these were accompanied by the Catholic organist. Mass, the main Sunday morning service, began with the Catholic priest and the Catholic congregation singing the Introit; the Lutheran congregation sang the Kyrie, the priest intoned the Gloria, and the Lutherans responded with ‘Allein Gott in der Höh’. After the priest and Catholic congregation had prayed and sung, the priest read the Epistle, and the Lutheran congregation followed with the third verse of ‘Allein Gott in der Höh’. The Gospel and Creed were sung by the priest, and the Lutheran congregation replied with the hymn ‘Wir glauben all an einen Gott’. While mass was celebrated, the Lutheran congregation remained seated (they received Holy Communion afterwards in their own homes from Lutheran clergy resident in nearby Lüneburg). After a pause, the Lutherans sang a post-communion hymn, during which the priest sprinkled the entire congregation with consecrated water, and then stepped into the pulpit for the sermon. Mass ended with the Lutheran congregation singing a couple of verses related to the text of the day. The collection bags were distributed by two churchwardens representing their respective congregations. It was noted too, that on the chief Catholic festivals appropriate Lutheran hymns were sung, such as ‘Christum wir sollen loben schon’ at Christmas; ‘Erschienen ist der heilige Geist’ at Easter, and ‘Komm, Gott Schöpfer, heiliger Geist’ at Whitsun.86 Another type is provided by the bitter experience of Reformed and Lutheran parishioners in the Rhine Palatinate during the aggressive Counter-Reformation carried out by Louis XIV's civil servants

86

J. Smend, ‘Ein kuriöses Simultaneum’, MGKK 19 (1914), 56–9.

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and troops, and by the Catholic Elector Palatine, Karl Philipp (1716–43). The Palatinate was territory where a Christian might have wondered about Christian tradition. Forty-four little states, usually Lutheran or Reformed but sometimes Catholic, changed back and forth according to the confessional taste of their rulers between the Reformation and 1750. This was true especially of the two largest states. The Electoral Palatinate was Lutheran in 1544, Reformed in 1563, Lutheran in 1576, Reformed in 1583, and returned to Catholicism in 1685 with the Catholic Neuburg branch of the family. The Palatinate-Zweibrucken was Lutheran in 1529, Reformed in 1588, Lutheran in 1668, Catholic in 1678, Lutheran in 1731, and returned to Catholicism in 1755. Changes of denominational direction helped, especially after 1650, to add significant numbers of Calvinist settlers from the Netherlands and France—and also Lutherans when Reformed rule in the Electoral Palatinate ended after 1685—to the Palatinate's rural parishes and cities such as Mannheim. The attempted building of the Concordia church by Elector Palatine Karl Ludwig (1649–80), for simultaneous worship by Mannheim's Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed congregation in 1680 is an instance of this.87 However, in these little states lacking the formal political framework of large ones such as Lutheran Saxony, it was usually left to the Reformed presbytery (Kirchenrat) and Reformed parish councils to argue with the ruler over religious rights. Arguments between the three major religious sections of the church of 1648 in the Palatinate were as much about church buildings, church property, and parish income as they were about articles of the faith. The latter were an existential issue for the third party: in this case the dispersed rural Lutheran minority. No great gain was marked by 1648, since the Treaty of Osnabrück granted them only those churches where Lutheran worship had taken place in 1624. These were few and poorly endowed, given the fortunes of war at that time. Confessional instability in these palatinate parishes was increased by political and religious ‘reunion’ practised by the troops of Louis XIV along the upper Rhine in successive wars (1679–1714). During this occupation, which looked much like a Reconquista to the palatinate's Protestant parishioners, Catholic parish priests were reappointed as Missionarii Apostolici. In some parishes this term was still to be found

87

Müller, Vorgeschichte der pfälzischen Union, 54.

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in parish records in the 1930s.88 Churches were renovated, reendowed, and in many areas simultaneous usage, which favoured the Catholic minority, reintroduced. Often a Catholic minority which could be counted on the fingers of two hands was able to claim almost half the income of a parish church for themselves. This state of affairs resulting from the fortunes of war, Louis XIV was able to confirm legally at the last minute in the Ryswick clause (see Ch. 1). What followed was a fifty-year crisis for the three major confessions of the Palatinate. In the short term, fear of a Reconquista eradicating the Reformed and Lutheran minorities stopped just short of a major constitutional crisis for the empire, and the possibility of another religious war during 1719–20 over simultaneous parish and church customary arrangements. On 19 October 1698, Johann Wilhelm, the Catholic elector palatine (1690–1716), revoked the Ryswick clause by issuing an edict which granted simultaneous usage of all parish churches in the Palatinate to Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed parishioners. It looked like the continuation of the tolerant religious policy of his Reformed predecessor in a situation where Lutheran immigration was changing the confessional balance of the Palatinate. He also granted Lutherans at this time their own consistory (previously that had been subject to the Reformed presbyteries of Heidelberg and Mannheim), and an equation was worked out which took money from church endowments previously earmarked for the Reformed church to support the Lutheran diaspora parishes in the Palatinate. The Reformed majority felt aggrieved at this reduction in their status as the majority confession. In actual fact, Johann Wilhelm used Protestant confessional rivalry as a pretext to restore Catholicism under the guise of fair play. Using a French parish map (the Chamoi list) giving the confessional make-up of palatinate parishes (1681–97), which naturally showed more Catholics in parishes than there actually were, Johann Wilhelm used the simultaneous usage argument to reCatholicize. The same also happened later in neighbouring Palatinate-Zweibrücken after the prince's conversion to Catholicism at Rome in 1719. The Palatinate's Reformed presbytery turned to the Corpus Evangelicorum, and the elector of Brandenburg was summoned on their behalf. He threatened reprisals against his own Catholic parishioners and Catholic monasteries in Magdeburg and Halberstadt if the elector palatine did not revoke his

88

Borgmann, 41.

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edict. This led eventually to an agreement at Dusseldorf (21 November 1705) between Johann Wilhelm and the Prussian king. The three denominations in the Palatinate were granted the private exercise of their respective beliefs. There was to be henceforth no more simultaneous usage of parish churches, though the recess did provide for simultaneous usage of the court church, Heiligengeist at Heidelberg, by Heidelberg's Catholic and Reformed parishioners. At the expense of the Palatinate's Lutheran minority, five-sevenths of church income was allotted to the Reformed, and two sevenths to the Catholics. The outcome was symptomatic of the rough time the third religious party had after 1648 if it was a clear minority.89 If this solution ruined any chance of improved relations between the Palatinate's Lutheran and Reformed parishioners, it was over-shadowed by a far worse relationship between the Reformed presbytery and the Catholic electors. An ominous sign was the reaction by the Reformed presbytery to the publication of a thesis, De veteri et moderna ecclesiae disciplina (1715), by Paul Ursleber, a Jesuit canon lawyer at Heidelberg University. This criticized Calvinism's apostasy from the old faith. Heidelberg's presbytery appealed, so strong was their fear of another Reconquista, to Johann Wilhelm and to the emperor, who had issued an edict on 18 July 1715, a few weeks before the publication of Ursleber's thesis, condemning and forbidding confessional abuse in university theses and other polemical writings.90 These misgivings became justified with the accession of Karl Philipp as elector in 1716. Karl Philipp, formerly an imperial governor in Innsbruck, brought with him Jesuit advisers, and the determination of an administrator to restore the fame of his Catholic house and Catholicism in the Palatinate. His advisers suggested that the Heidelberg Catechism (1563) contained more abuse against Catholics than Ursleber's thesis had done. Question 80 of the Catechism, defining the difference between Calvinist and Catholic teaching on the Eucharist, had stated that Catholic practice was tantamount to idolatry. Even worse was the gloss, which said much more detrimental things about the Catholic elevation of the host. Karl Philipp not only felt incensed about this attack on his religion, but also—a sign of the times—found what he called crude sixteenth-century language out of keeping with the civilized manners he expected at his court at Heidelberg

89

Ibid. 27–8; Müller, 51.

90

Borgmann, 28.

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after 1718. He was particularly annoyed by the way the reprint (1719) still used his coat of arms on the title-page, and his authorization. Typical too was the lengthy argument which followed as to when this abusive gloss had been included. This was not easy to establish, given the large number of catechisms in circulation since 1563. Karl Philipp argued for 1684 (which indicated the kind of Protestant abuse to expect at the Catholic Neuburg line's coming to power); the Prussian envoy for 1634; the Vienna chancellery, which was naturally also consulted, produced an edition of 1609. Karl Philipp also pointed to the emperor's edict of 1715 condemning religious polemics, though this applied only to books and not to confessions of faith.91 It was clear that Karl Philipp and his presbytery had had enough. At stake was Kirchenhoheit: a simple matter of enforcing authority for Karl Philipp, but an existential issue for Heidelberg's Reformed presbytery, given the control its hundred or so members exercised over church appointments, income from church property, education, and the administration of pastoral care. The question was even raised as to whether in future a Catholic midwife could deliver the child of a member of the Reformed faith. On 24 April 1719, Karl Philipp, without consulting his presbytery, called in all Heidelberg catechisms containing the title-page and offensive Question 80 with its gloss. To add insult to injury, on 29 August 1719 he ended simultaneous usage, practised since 1705, by Heidelberg's Catholic and Reformed parishioners of the court church Heiligengeist at Heidelberg, saying that he would think about building another church for Heidelberg's Reformed congregation in the future. This was unacceptable to his presbytery. In the end, on 4 September, Karl Philipp simply tore down the offending wall between choir and nave and repossessed the church.92 What followed showed the strength of the Palatinate's parishioners and presbytery in mobilizing Protestant opinion for their parochial rights. A propaganda war over this breach of the provisions outlined in Osnabrück, and the claim that Calvinism in the Palatinate was on the point of forcible extinction, for a while rallied Protestant governments in Europe to their cause. King George I of England ordered his Hanoverian magistracy to close the Catholic

91

The dwarf, Perkeo, brought by Karl Philipp from Innsbruck, was a noted feature of his court. Gloss on Question 80, Borgmann, 29.

92

Ibid. 30–1.

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church in Celle to public worship on 10 November 1719. The Prussian king was even more forthright. By 31 October 1719 the monastery of Hammersleben in Halberstadt was closed, its monks expelled, and its income sequestrated. On 27 November the monastic churches of the Franciscans, Dominicans, and Augustinians in Halberstadt were closed to public worship, as was the cathedral of Minden.93 If the outcome did not lead to the use of powder and shot it was because, as local satirists in the Palatinate were well aware, with Louis XIV's departure, it was extremely unlikely that the Pope could muster anything more than spiritual propaganda by monastic orders and regular clergy; the fears of what might happen in Protestant states should a Catholic prince come to the throne, were worrisome enough for Johan Jakob Moser to be summoned by the Württemberg estates at the time of the eviction of Salzburg Protestants in 1732 to look into the constitutional matter of religious assurances. This provided the prelude to the Reversalien Karl Alexander (1684–1737) was forced to sign in 1733.94 In the Palatinate, however, the result was emigration by thousands of very poor Reformed and Lutheran parishioners to whatever Protestant land might take them: eventually, Pennsylvania in America. Karl Philipp, for his part, moved his court from recalcitrant Reformed Heidelberg to courtly Mannheim in 1720. In 1723, he linked the new Catholic city parish church of Mannheim (built during 1700–7) to the tower and town hall to stress to Heidelbergers the need for government to conform with his official religion. The use of the simultaneous model of two halls of worship linked by a tower housing the church bell, which had united Mannheim's Huguenot and Walloon congregation before its destruction in 1689, was ironic.95 Further up the river Rhine, the Lutheran city of Strasburg provided another example of enforced coexistence. This had followed Louis XIV's reunion of Alsace, and the capitulation of the city in

93

Ibid. 52 passim.

94

‘Bellum Criticum sine pulvere, plumbo et missili, sine auro, victu et amictu, in spacio imaginario publicatum . . . das ist der ausgeschriene religionskrieg von denen reformierten in der Pfaltz und daruf kurtz verfaste proiect, wie sich die catholische ordensstandt in omnem eventum defensive verhalten sollen pro anno 1720 vorgestelt’, A. P. Brück, ‘Eine Satire aus den pfälzischen “Religionskrieg” von 1719/20’, BfPKG 25 (1958), 121–6; Moser, Vollständiger Bericht von der so berühmt als fatalen Clausula Art 4 Pacis Ryswicensis (Frankfurt am Main, 1732), commentary: Mack Walker, Moser, 71–3.

95

Braunfels, Kunst im Heiligen Römischen Reich i. 305–12. Plate 284 is a reproduction of the town hall and Catholic parish church.

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1681. The difference to the Palatinate consisted of a successful Catholic immigration policy enforced by Louvois and his troops, and Reformed parishioners as the third religious party. Calvinists were allowed residence in Strasburg, but their church services had to take place only in the neighbouring village church of Wolfisheim. Also neighbouring Lutheran rural villages suffered a far more rigorous Counter-Reformation than Strasburg itself. The rural Lutheran parish church was declared open to simultaneous worship as soon as seven Catholic families could be counted in residence, and it was closed to Lutherans if Catholics increased to two-thirds of the parish population. A census of Strasburg (1697) noted in the total number of inhabitants excluding noblemen, soldiers, and Catholic priests: 19,389 Lutherans, 5,119 Catholics, and 1,523 Calvinists. Catholics had become an important religious minority as a result of inducements such as land, the payment of only a third of the fee for Strasburg citizenship, and other privileges granted by Louis XIV to Catholics alone who settled in Alsace.96 The parochial situation until 1789 was thus one where Lutherans had to accept parity and alternation in the Lutheran city council (Magistrat); they had also to reorganize their city Convocation (Kirchenkonvent) represented by seven Lutheran city parish clergymen into a consistory which included seven senior churchwardens (Obere Kirchenpfleger) who henceforth exercised the city council's religious authority, since it would never again be wholly Protestant after 1681. They also accepted parity in numbers of city parishes, and the simultaneous usage of two city parish churches. To illustrate the two latter examples, under the terms of its Lutheran church order (1598), there were seven Lutheran city parishes including that of the cathedral. After December 1681, when the cathedral returned to Catholicism, Lutheran citizens were forced to renovate the old Dominican church for use as the New Church (Neue Kirche, or Temple-Neuf). It took over the cathedral's role, housing in addition the university library, and, in its cloister precincts, the cathedral's former Lutheran choir school. Four Lutheran city parishes, St Thomas, St William, St Nicholas, and St Aurelia remained as they were, but the collegiate churches, Old

96

Ford, Strasbourg in transition, 115–16; Adam, Evangelische Kirchengeschichte der Stadt Strassburg, 441–2. Rural immigration policy: Ford, 109; Adam, Evangelische Kirchengeschichte der elsässischen Territorien, 128, 169, 187, 215, 231, 256, 329 passim. Reduction of citizenship fee: Adam, Strassburg, 437.

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and Young St Peter, from which the exiled Catholic chapters by arrangement with the city council had drawn income from their prebends since the Reformation, became churches where, separated by a wall, Catholics worshipped in the choir, and Lutherans in the nave. This arrangement lasted well beyond 1789. In 1900, Young St Peter was left to the Lutheran congregation, and the Catholic congregation built their own church with the same name. Old St Peter remains as it was today with its Lutheran nave and Catholic choir, on to which is built, at right-angles, a modern nave. Symptomatic of reunion, however, was the way Strasburg's Catholics soon established an equal number of Catholic city parishes. By 1690, six parishes including the cathedral had appeared: St Lawrence, named after the cathedral chapel, at the cathedral, Old and Young St Peter, St Mark (renamed St John), St Stephen, and St Louis. This parochial system lasted throughout the eighteenth century. These parishes were supported by a rising number of regular clergy and nuns; a development noted too in the Electoral Palatinate in 1720 by its Protestant presbytery and the satirically minded; and a rising number of lay confraternities uniting French-speaking citizens, craftsmen, and journeymen sponsored by orders such as the Capuchins and Franciscans. Conversions using the bait of privileges and office carried out by Oratorians and Capuchins was another way of redressing a favourable Catholic balance, but these methods were never particularly successful.97 However, all in all, the effect, given a noticeably higher Catholic birth rate, was the narrowing of the gap between numbers of Lutheran and Catholic parishioners in the city. Already in the next census of 1726, out of a total population (34,821), there were 10,480 Catholics to 22,841 Lutherans. Calvinist parishioners remained static. It was a trend which turned a Lutheran city (1681) into a city divided equally between Lutherans and Catholics (1789).98 This was a development which served to maintain strong confessional identity even if physical abuse and polemics eased off in the 1720s, and Strasburg's Lutheran and Catholic parishioners turned to living and letting live. At public church ceremonies, when solemn Te Deum was sung, or at the funeral of a public figure, members of the city council who gathered outside the city chambers for the procession split into two lines; Lutherans marched solemnly to the Neue Kirche; Catholics to

97

Conversions: Ford, 108–12; Adam, Strassburg, 442.

98

Ford, 116.

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the cathedral.99 Such elaborate bi-confessional ritual and procedure was indeed similar to that of cities such as Lutheran Augsburg encircled by a Catholic countryside, where a rising Catholic city population, noticeable in labour and crafts, served to reinforce Lutheran confessional identity until the collapse of the old order in 1803.100

99

Ibid. 129.

100

É. François, ‘De l'uniformite à la tolerance: confession et société urbaine en Allemagne, 1650–1800’, Annales, 37/2 (1982), 783–800.

5 Government of the Church-State I. From Custodian to Sovereign The pressing question in 1700 in Germany and Scandinavia, after the stormy religious climate of the seventeenth century, was whether it was still possible to continue to govern Lutheran churches on the basis of many Reformation church orders. These had produced a ‘church-state’ in which Lutheran churches had little autonomy. It was obvious that Catholicism had regained much lost territory; Calvinism and Protestant dissent were advancing in Europe; princes were taking an increasingly absolute view of their power. Time had produced no common Protestant canon law; Protestant church government operated in a legal jungle, whose density was conditioned by custom. Imperial constitutional laws had established the semblance of religious peace in German lands (by inference in Scandinavia) in 1552, 1555, and 1648; but this was superimposed on a mix of local legislation and an unquantifiable variety of local church orders composed by the Reformers as the Lutheran Reformation progressed, and published by princes and town authorities. Most had been issued in the sixteenth century, some in the seventeenth century, a few after 1700. Following the destruction of church inventories in the Thirty Years' War, many were simply reissued. A century later, in 1750, some 352 were recorded. There was much bewilderment about competence and procedure in consistories (in Germany these were split equally between clergy and legal assessors) where so much in church and state was interconnected. Where sacred began and secular stopped was impossible to say. Articles of faith on the one hand and regulations defining ceremony, church discipline, and charity on the other, were not easily distinguishable in law anyway. Confessional statements such as the Augsburg Confession (1530), or

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the Lutheran formula which did not produce concord in 1580, could be appealed to. Contents of church orders varied between confessional statements (credenda) and things to be performed (agenda), such as definitions of the clergyman's office and the order of public worship or regulations concerning the poor and endowments. Some were visitation instructions or marriage regulations. All were coloured by the charm of local customary arrangements. On the other hand, these church orders reflected Luther's teaching that a Christian congregation was concerned with the exercise of its faith: faith sanctified life. If ritual was inessential to salvation, the exercise of Christian discipline was, so Luther had argued in his Little Catechism (1529), crucial to a custodial Christian order at home and in public life. The Haustafel (Hustavla in Swedish), a plaque or sampler, retained in many cases into the early nineteenth century, which hung on the living-room wall in many Lutheran homes, supplemented the Little Catechism with specific Bible verses outlining Christian responsibilities in a triangular Lutheran commonweal consisting of ecclesia, politia, and oeconomia. At the apex, princes and magistrates, custodians, or ‘nurses’ in the sense of Isaiah 49: 23, were supposed to uphold the first and second commandments. Any form of secular government was considered permissible as long as it ensured the correct preaching of the Word, administration of two Lutheran sacraments of baptism and communion, and moral discipline. Authority (Obrigkeit) was not the source of law, but the embodiment of Christian duties towards this Christian commonwealth.101 Princes and magistrates had thus to visit parishes and parishioners with due Christian love, given the absence of consecrated bishops, in order to exercise a pastoral and supervisory role considered essential for the progress of the Reformation.102 By 1700, this view, the medieval corpus christianorum, was passing. Luther's writings, early and late, were not easily at hand. More accurate knowledge was first provided by Johann Georg Walch's (1693–1775) twenty-four volume quarto Hallesian edition of his writings (1740–53). A fashion for absolute government, the reimposition of authority after so much crisis, and the contemporaneous development at universities of the idea of public law, made it

101

§ 28: Grane (ed.), Confessio Augustana, 185 passim.

102

An den christlichen Adel (1520), WA 6. 404–69; preface, Deutsche Messe (1526), WA 19. 72–8; preface, Unterricht der Visitatoren an die Pfarhern im Kurfürstentum zu Sachsen (1528), WA 26. 195–201.

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imperative to try to define boundaries between established Reformation churches and states. This was extremely difficult. The provisions of the Westphalian peace showed that Protestant Germany existed in a political order governed by legal relationships intrinsic to the empire's irregular constitutional framework. Customary law was politics. The complex political notion, Landeshoheit or Territorialhoheit, acknowledged that a ruler could be subject in one relationship and wielder of authority in another. Power meant sharing and negotiation. A local ruler participated in a system of jurisdictions and rights. The Westphalian peace settlement had attempted to codify once and for all this system as it had affected the Christian church of the empire since the Reformation. At the apex, the Corpus catholicorum and Corpus evangelicorum representing both major confessions in the diet at Regensburg (1653), acknowledged these balances and checks (itio in partes). They safeguarded weaker members against majority decisions and bullying by larger states. But, in practice, imperial law left the say in Protestant church affairs to an individual state or town and its own law. By 1700 the initiative really lay with the prince. A new public law was emerging too. This implied the severance of Reformation church order from Roman and Catholic canon law. Public law, it was argued by civil lawyers, guaranteed political tranquillity against religious enthusiasts and squabbling clergy. Mercantilist economic thought persuaded rulers to allow settlement and toleration of different religious denominations. These changes made it imperative to rethink the relationship of the Reformation church to secular authority. This was accompanied by religious renewal and a churchmanship of doing, a principled churchmanship, the ‘practice of piety’, or ‘Pietism’.

II. Absolutism and the Governance of a Reformation Church A major question of seventeenth-century political philosophy, which had arisen out of state-building, and religious crisis fuelled by the success of the Counter-Reformation, was, ‘How could one man (king or prince), or body of men (republic) obtain a rightful title to rule other men?’ Divine-right theory answered that God and the natural world He had divinely instituted, gave some men this title naturally. A fiction was resorted to using ethics and history contained in the Old Testament. This suggested that secular authority was

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derived in a patriarchal sense from Adam and his male heirs. The Old Testament taught explicitly that the Israelites had sinned as a nation in calling for a king. The New Testament call for obedience to the powers that be—rather than to the powers that ought to be—was also appealed to. Divine right in the late seventeenth century, was a Protestant political theory obsessed with rightful title and a secure male succession, motivated by the fear of the politically uncertain in a collapsing universal and Catholic Christian order. The more uncertain the question of right, the more abstract this political reasoning became. Entirely arbitrary ideas were clothed in universally applicable terms, because the question of who was sovereign was so very difficult to answer, given the political complexity of a map like that of German-speaking lands in 1648 or the ever-shifting pattern of conquest and consolidation in the Baltic before 1721. It was felt essential that a form of government (in Sweden the term regeringsform was used) was defined as right and mandatory for all time. This mixture of specious ethics and politics proved untenable once the argument of historical development was employed to look at the origins of states and the tradition of the Christian church. However, the effect of the Westphalian peace on Protestant church government had been such that, despite the metaphor Luther used comparing the ruler's craft with that of the baker in nourishing and protecting the Christian congregation, or his warning, in the preface of his commentary to Psalm 82, that rulers could not behave, however ‘divine’ their office, like upstart and arrogant junkers once the temporal powers of the Pope and Catholic clergy had been swept away, parishioners were incorporated into an absolutist public law which tried to impose uniform order on the legal jumble which had grown since the Reformation.103 A resort to a political fiction as a basis for establishing rightful title and legal codification was most rapidly employed in the period 1680–1720, not only in the twin monarchies of Denmark-Norway and Sweden-Finland, but also in German states—notably in Brandenburg-Prussia—where endemic warfare, parlous times, and a continuing papal Reconquista made it difficult to establish a rightful title to conquests, political identity, and the exercise of reasonably efficient government. In a Lutheran sense, this development marked a shift from Luther's and Melanchthon's praecipuum membrum to caput

103

4 Bitte, Grosser Katechismus, Bekenntnisschriften, ii. 680; Ps. 82: WA 31/1. 189–91.

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membrum, though at this time it was still possible to appeal to both in Lutheran church government. The establishment of a legitimate title to rule was complicated in Protestant Germany by the fact that unconsecrated princes swore fealty (until 1806) to a Catholic emperor. The procedure of coronation was unknown amongst German Protestant princes before the coronation of the Prussian king, Frederick, in the castle chapel at Königsberg on 18 January 1701. Likewise, the question of whether a Protestant prince could become emperor, was at most the subject of a light-hearted bet in academic circles.104 Recognition of a legitimate title was thus worrisome in Protestant Germanspeaking lands considered part of a Catholic empire. Popes and successive emperors regarded all Protestant rulers anyway as princes lacking any hallowed institution. These assumptions were intrinsic to papal policy since the Council of Trent—the Edict of Restitution (1629) made this explicit—and the statesmanship of Popes Innocent XI (1676–89), Alexander VIII (1689–91), Innocent XII (1691–1700), and Clement XI (1700–21). These popes continued to try to win back Catholic territories ‘unjustly’ lost in 1624, by supporting Bourbon and Habsburg aggressive dynastic politics, and by furthering Catholic mission, marriage alliances, and conversions. The effects of this policy continued to be felt long after 1648, particularly along the lower and upper Rhine in wars and constant occupations by French troops; in northern and eastern Germany in an attempt to regain overall control of the prince-bishoprics of Osnabrück and Hildesheim, the dioceses of Magdeburg, Halberstadt, Kammin, Verden, and various other abbeys, and especially in Silesia. Political procedure towards the recognition of rightful title provided an inexhaustible source of confessional strife and propaganda which strengthened the hand of a ruler inevitably at the expense of traditional Lutheran teaching on congregational church order. The signature of the Convention of Altranstädt (1 September 1707), which secured some guarantees for the existence of Silesian Lutheranism, was the occasion of a big row about who should sign first: Charles XII of Sweden, or the ambassador representing Emperor Joseph I. In public, signatures were accompanied by a

104

J. S. Pütter, ‘Ob der Kaiser nothwendig catholisch seyn müsse? und ob nicht ein evangelischer Kaiser seyn könne?’, Auserlesene Rechts-Fälle (Göttingen, 1777), iii. 788 passim ; Liermann, ‘Sakralrecht’, ZSSRGkA 30 (1941), 317.

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propaganda war of broadsheets printed cheaply by Saxons, Swedes, and besieged Lutheran Silesians, likening Charles XII to an Alexander, a Messiah, or a guardian to Luther. A popular print consisted of Luther pointing with outstretched arm to Charles XII dictating the relevant clauses of the Instrumentum Pacis Osnabrugense. Altranstädt, shaped by the legal caste of politics of the time, continued to be celebrated as a fundamental charter with great ceremony by Silesian Lutherans on the anniversary of the Confessio Augustana in 1730, and on the day of Altranstädt's signature in 1757, 1807, 1857, 1907, and as recently as 1957.105 Prussian Protestant kingship fared no better after 1701. The papal calendar of state printed ‘Margrave of Brandenburg’ until 1787, because Clement XI had refused outright to recognize Prussia as a Protestant monarchy, arguing amongst other things that Prussia, as part of the lands of the Teutonic order, remained a papal fief. The classic definition by Halle lawyers, that after 1648 a Protestant prince was to be considered a pope in his own territory, can be seen against this background of disputed rightful title. It became, in fact, the task of Stryk and Thomasius's star pupil, the noted Halle lawyer and chancellor, also historiographer to the Prussian court, Johann Peter von Ludewig (1668–1743), to make a case for Prussian divine right, and to refute the criticism made by Pope Clement XI.106 In the long run, it took more than a century, despite continued efforts by Frederick the Great during the 1770s, for recognition and the establishment of a formal diplomatic relationship between Protestant royal Prussia and the Vatican. The Roman historian, Barthold Georg Niebuhr (1776–1831), became the first Protestant Prussian diplomatic representative at the Vatican in 1816.107 Senior councillors, clergy, and university professors in Denmark-Norway and Sweden-Finland, took a particular interest, (c.1660–1700) in the conflict between the Catholic Stuart dynasty

105

Broadsheets: Conrads, Altranstädter Konvention, pp. xxii–xxxiii; pamphlet war (165–77); copperprint satire (plate 5); row over signature and dating (40–50); anniversaries (169, 246–7).

106

J. P. von Ludewig, ‘Päpstlicher Unfug wider die Cron Preussen, welche Clemens der XI. in einem den 16 April Anno 1701 ausgestreueten irrigen Brevi zu Verkleinerung aller gekronten Häupter, begangen,’ Consilia Hallensium Iureconsultorum (Halle, 1734), ii. 851; Liermann, ‘Sakralrecht’, 367–9. ‘E.K.M. exercieren auch in Ihren Landen nicht alleine die iura episcopalia, sondern auch die iura papalia Selbst’, Cnyphausen to Frederick William I, 26 Sept. 1726, Lehmann, Preuβen und die katholische Kirche, vii. 665 (no. 513).

107

K. Rheindorf, ‘Die Anerkennung des preussischen Königtitels durch die Kurie’, ZSSRGkA 11 (1921), 442–6.

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and the English parliament, and in English constitutional theory in general, since this helped them to prepare their own arguments for how best to resolve the question of lawful royal title and their Protestant succession. But England also provided the worrisome republican precedent of the protectorate. The best examples of a new Protestant fiction of kingship are those absolutist definitions carried out by Kings Frederick III (1648–70) and Christian V (1670–99) of Denmark-Norway, and Kings Charles XI and Charles XII of Sweden. In Denmark, absolutism lasted until 1849; in Sweden, it was hastily dismantled in 1719, a year after Charles XII's unlucky death (brought about by a stray bullet), though much of its spirit has survived on paper: notably Charles XI's Church Law (1686), which has lasted into our own century. These monarchs looked to divine right theory using a mix of cuius regio, eius religio arguments advanced by conservative Lutheran theologians, and the experience of Oxford royalism encountered on trips to England by successive senior councillors and clergy. It was necessary, given the continuance of war and rapidly diminishing state revenues, to clothe their rightful title to rule other men with religious arguments. They therefore appointed commissions in the 1680s of senior clergy to look into the constitution, liturgy (the Anglican Book of Common Prayer was used as a model for the Danish Rite of 1685), and state of religious knowledge in the Lutheran church of their respective realms and Protestant Europe. Kingship, and the codification of the mass of statutes, laws, and regulations which had built up since the Reformation were dressed up in suitable theocratic clothing. The Danish Lex Regia (1665) and order of succession of the Lutheran Danish royal house, the longest written constitution in modern European history, borrowed heavily in its paragraphs relating to the Lutheran church from the book Juris Regii, published in six volumes (1663–72) by Hans Wandal (1624–75), bishop of Sjælland (1668–75). Wandal officiated at the coronation of Christian V in the castle chapel of Frederiksborg in 1671, at which ceremony the Lex Regia was placed on the altar and its main paragraphs solemnly read out to the congregation present. The same protocol was observed when his successor, Frederick IV, was crowned in 1699. It was a ceremony too, which Frederick IV formally remembered when he reaffirmed his coronation vows in

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public at Copenhagen in October 1717, the second anniversary of the Reformation.108 This kingship harked back to the mystical nature of royal anointing and forward to new German territorial theory expressed in the writing of another senior Danish clergyman, the Mecklenburger, Hector Masius (1653–1709). He achieved notoriety in persuading the Saxon elector to expel Thomasius from Leipzig.109 As vicarius Dei, the Danish king was supreme in church and state. The interpretation of 1 Samuel 8: 9, 11 to be found in the teaching of Bodin, Buchanan, and Filmer, as well as that of German Lutheran theologians such as the Saxon, Johann Adam Schertzer (1628–83), who disputed Pufendorf's views on political consent, and the Württemberger, Johann Adam Osiander (1622–97), admirer of Charles XI of Sweden as a ruler who might have kept the peace better in the Palatinate and his native Württemberg, informed this interpretation which received lasting constitutional shape in the great law code Danske Lov (1683).110 In practice, its twenty-three immensely detailed chapters dealing with the Danish Lutheran church (the Danish Rite was published a couple of years later in 1685) gave the Danish king very wide powers to meddle in sacra. It repeated in its first chapter what had been said about the nature of the king's religion in the Lex Regia: namely that ‘the King has supreme power over the entire clergy from the highest to the lowest; supreme power to decide and arrange everything related to the church and public worship, and to order or forbid, when he considers it advisable, meetings, assemblies, and conventions on religious matters in accordance with the will of God and the Augsburg Confession.111 The Lutheran church possessed no separate identity. The royal chancellery at Copenhagen appointed the senior clergy and the professors of theology at Copenhagen University. Danish superintendents, or bishops as they liked to call themselves because of their Anglican sympathies, were in practice

108

Ekman, ‘The Danish Royal Law of 1665’, JMH 29 (1957), 102–7; Liermann, ‘Sakralrecht’, 355 passim. Kongelov was printed first (1709), with editions (1722, 1756), Ussing, Kirkeforfatningen (1786), i. 110; Wandal's influence in Sweden: Normann, Prästerskap, 104 passim. Wandal approved of Oxford royalism, Fabricius, Kongeloven, 269 passim.

109

Masius had also visited Oxford (1686), liked the Anglican ways he encountered there, but, as chaplain to the Danish legation in Paris, warned Lutheran princes and clergy to be wary of Calvinism, apropos the Edict of Nantes.

110

Normann, Prästerskap, 25, 30, 33–4, 104. Danske Lov edited by Secher (1929), 203–416 prints the relevant chapters.

111

Danske Lov, 1.1.1.

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senior civil servants. Church buildings and property were regarded as crown property. It had been royal practice, in the late seventeenth century anyway, to sell off church lands to wealthy private patrons as a way of defraying the state's enormous war debts. New patrons, often German-born nobles in the pay of the Danish crown, elected their own parish clergy who were subsequently appointed by the king. This was built-in royal double insurance. Not only were the lower clergy ordered to respect their superiors, but it was expressly stated that they should stick only to the appropriate text in their Sunday sermon. Schoolmasters, since education was in the hands of the Lutheran church, were to be appointed and schools supervised by the bishops.112 On the other hand, the question whether this created a dedicated body of uncritical timeservers, as the Whig Viscount Molesworth alleged, or whether 1665 and 1683 reflected a pragmatic attempt to create order in an early modern state where so much relating to church and state was poorly defined—the Danish clergyman who wrote the most important constitutional history of the Danish Lutheran church at the end of the eighteenth century, Henrich Ussing (1743–1820), still used the phrase Kirke-Stat—remained an open question. Certainly in the parish, if one excludes the bond of patronage and dependency, there was much to the argument that the king's hand did not lie too heavily in practice on parishioners.113 Danish kingship influenced their Caroline neighbours in Sweden. Charles XII made it clear who was who in Sweden at his coronation on 14 December 1697. His estates paid him homage the day before, and not the following day as had previously been the case. Members of council and nobility were forced to walk rather than ride before him in the procession to Uppsala cathedral. Charles alone rode, some of his councillors carrying the baldachin above him, with the crown he had placed on his own head, sceptre in hand. In the cathedral, Charles sat in on a throne in the main choir and heard a sermon praising kingship by Archbishop Olov Svebilius (1681–1700). After this, he walked to the high altar, fell on his knees,

112

Rights and duties of superintendents: Danske Lov, 2.17.1, and 2.17.17; royal approval for pronouncements on temporal matters (2.17.22); clergy respect for superiors (2.17.22); clergy appointment (ch. 3); church property (ch. 22); preaching (2.4.6), which stressed that clergy must warn their congregation to fear God and honour the king ‘formane deris Tilhørere at frygte Gud og ære Kongen’ (1 Peter 2: 17); supervision of schools and school-masters (2.18.2).

113

Ussing's view in his Kirkeforfatningen.

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put his crown and sceptre on a cushion, received anointing, then put the crown back on his head, and, with sceptre in hand, walked back to his throne without having taken an oath of allegiance to the laws of the land. This bothered the assembled estates greatly.114 On the other hand, too much can be read into Caroline autocratic behaviour. Sweden had a different political and religious development since the Reformation from Denmark. Charles XII's sister, Ulrika Eleonora, when she became queen in 1719, was elected by estates in parliament with a strong sense of tradition, on condition she renounce her absolute sovereignty and return to the laws and constitution as they had been in the reign of Queen Christina. At her coronation, Archbishop Mathias Steuchius (1714–30) placed the crown on her head to symbolize constitutional subjection to parliament, to which Sweden's Lutheran clergy belonged as the second in authority amongst four estates (nobles, clergy, burghers, and peasantry) of the realm. Bishops, who retained their authority at the Reformation, despite the crown's attempt at weakening their temporal power c.1650, kept much political influence in a monarchy where a Lutheran Reformation church and state were considered congruent. Even in 1817, a visiting Pomeranian clergyman noted that the authority, Ansehen, of Sweden's bishops was so great that any clergyman or official who made false criticism could lose office. Church government was also exercised by twelve cathedral chapters and Stockholm's senior consistory composed of clergy alone. If Charles XI and Charles XII were able to impose their royal will on the Swedish church, much (given these political checks belonging to the Swedish clergy) was restored on Charles XII's death. This became visible in parliament's granting of extensive clergy ‘Privileges’ in 1723.115 Charles XI's Church Law (1686)—a contrast to Denmark in being promulgated specifically for the Swedish Lutheran church—borrowed theocratic arguments from Danish royal legislation, and from Divine Right which senior Swedish clergymen brought back with them from Oxford. Bishop Spegel, a leading figure on the 1686 royal commission, had heard Wandal lecture on the first volume of his book at Copenhagen in 1664, and he was most impressed by the

114

F. C. Carlsson, Geschichte Schwedens, (Gotha, 1887), vi. 42–3; Liermann, ‘Sakralrecht’, 359–60.

115

Schubert, Reise, i. 52; Liermann, ‘Sakralrecht’ 360; Roberts, Age of Liberty, ch. 2; Pleijel, Karolinsk kyrkofromhet, 246–63.

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arguments of the bishop of Oxford (Dr John Fell) for a very close connection between the Anglican church and the crown when he visited Oxford the following year. Spegel's transmission of English royalist views was an influential one, since few senior Swedish clergy had a proper command of English at this time.116 As in Danske Lov, twenty-eight detailed chapters gave the Swedish king very wide powers over church appointments. A lengthy oath of allegiance to the Swedish royal house was imposed on bishops and clergymen at ordination. Church discipline was transferred to Swedish crown courts. The king reserved the right to establish crown livings at a time when he was busily reducing the land of his senior nobility. There was a similar mixing of public law and liturgical instructions. However, this church law was also special in its use of natural-law theory to advance the arguments of Pufendorf (professor at Lund 1668–76; royal historiographer from 1677; and see below) who taught the need for order enforced by a local ruler in the interest of religious peace. This was due in large part to Chancellor Erik Lindschöld (d. 1690), who chaired the commission which drafted this law. He translated Pufendorf's argument contained in his little book De Concordia verae politicae cum religionis Christiana (1675), which emphasized the importance of form and order in church and state, and set out Pufendorf's misgivings about the politics of English Puritanism and Enthusiasm.117 Needless to say, these examples of absolutist practice were not lost over the water in Brandenburg-Prussia. Elector Frederick III was worried about the election of the elector of Saxony as king of Catholic Poland in 1697. It drove him to secure his title and succession, and subject his nobility to his own will once and for all in his scattered Prussian lands. He invested much royal thought in the ceremony and symbolic aspects of his coronation as king at Königsberg. Like Charles XII, he placed the crown on his own head and on that of the queen in the reception room of the castle before going to church. He made it clear that the crown, sceptre, and royal purple were not to be handed to him by his estates. The ceremonial of the English coronation was slavishly copied: notably the English triumphal procession with its semispiritual character. The evening

116

Normann, Prästerskap, 106.

117

Oath of allegiance: Kyrkolag, ch. 21, § 2; ch. 22, § 2; crown livings: ch. 19, § 10. Pufendorf and Lindschöld: G. Inger, ‘Den svenska kyrkolagen 300 år’ Kå (1986), 13 passim.

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before the coronation, Frederick created the Order of the Black Eagle as a counterpart to the Knights of the Bath. At the coronation ceremony, he appointed, as his own Reformed ‘bishop’, his senior court chaplain, Benjamin Ursinus (1646–1720), to carry out the royal consecration as a way of stressing the English saying ‘no bishop, no king’, and to scotch current papal arguments that the title Sacra Regia Majestatis could not be used unless there was anointing by a bishop. But Ursinus remained a bishop only for the duration of the coronation: an ‘Anglican’ episcopacy was the last thing King Frederick wanted in his new monarchy. The coronation itself, which followed closely the sacramental aspect of English coronation protocol, increased, for a further decade or so, Frederick and his senior clergy's interest in the Anglican church and its liturgy; but in the long run the will for more formal ecclesiastical union was sapped by customary inertia. Brandenburg-Prussian royalism which copied closely the new absolutism of contemporary Denmark, Sweden, and England before and after 1688 prefaced massive statutory state regulation (Rétablissement) of the Prussian Protestant church, which typified the religious policies of his successors, Frederick William I and Frederick the Great.118

III. Jus Publicum and Jus Ecclesiasticum Protestantium In Germany and Scandinavia the appearance of a modern Protestant canon law can be dated to 1700. It was the offspring of the professionalization of government carried out by ‘new monarchy’ in the century 1650–1750. Its appearance was contemporaneous with the consolidation of a Lutheran devotional canon, and Pietist reform of the Lutheran clergyman's office, which implied a shift from learning (theology) to a practice of piety meaning both individual spiritual renewal and better standards of pastoral care in parishes. Lawyers who pioneered this law were closely associated with Lutheran Pietism. Justus Henning Böhmer (1674–1749), professor of jurisprudence at Halle after 1715, empowered as rector by Frederick William I in 1731 to modernize Halle's curriculum (he was also appointed, on the death of Peter von Ludewig in 1743, chancellor of the duchy of Magdeburg), pioneered ‘Protestant’ ecclesiastical law as a modern teaching subject, and coined the term ‘collegialism’ to

118

Liermann, ‘Sakralrecht’, 360–9.

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describe his teaching. Böhmer was a deeply religious man who made Patristics his special subject, and followed closely Hallesian Pietist debate about the need to reform Lutheran theology, homiletics, and the rite of Lutheran public worship to suit the average parishioner. Disciples like Christoph Matthias Pfaff (1686–1760), chancellor of the university of Tübingen (1720–56), and Johann Lorenz Mosheim (1694–1755), appointed in 1747 honorary professor of theology, and the first and only chancellor of Göttingen University, who developed Böhmer's collegialism as a major component of Göttingen's and Tübingen's schools of public law in the 1740s, were theologians first and lawyers second. New standards of Protestant piety went with new standards of Protestant citizenship. All these men wanted to see the model of the Early Church—albeit using natural-law principles—as the future guide for Protestant parochial custom and church-state relations. The many local Protestant churches (Landeskirchen) could in this way be absorbed into a broader framework of states using modern public law as a universal bond. This development of Protestant canon law by 1750 helped in turn to publicize and anchor Pietism in Lutheran church government and legislation. The spirit and formulation of this law was a watershed in Protestant church government in Germany and Scandinavia, since it took seriously, for the first time since the Reformation, Protestant churches as institutions in public law. It was also law motivated by the obvious need to prevent a repetition of religious havoc caused by wars of religion in the previous two centuries, and law shaped by use of new learning associated with the European scientific revolution in fields like history and philology. These men looked for the first time at the sources of local customary and ecclesiastical law which had accumulated in poorly compiled law-books since the Reformation. They also wrote their textbooks in German, Swedish, or Danish rather than in Latin, though they still used many Latin sentences and turns of phrase. In essence, this was a north German and Scandinavian development informed by close contacts since the late sixteenth century with Dutch Reformed universities such as Franeker, Groningen, Harderwijk, Utrecht, and Leiden. A very large number of Scandinavian and German Lutheran students studied law, medicine, and theology at these universities. In the first 175 years of Leiden university (1575–1750), some 11,000 students from Germany alone

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matriculated.119 These numbers were large enough to justify the building of a Lutheran church in the city of Leiden served by two pastors.120 Lutheran students came, despite censorship and edicts at home restricting travel to nonLutheran universities, to hear new learning on law and citizenship taught by Hugo Grotius, Justus Lipsius, and their successors. In this way the idea of the common good, contract, constancy, patience, common sense, and resolution were linked to civic duties, statecraft, and a new Protestant piety which acknowledged these temporal values for the first time. This mixing of Lutheran and Reformed students also helped to create a more tolerant Lutheran religious outlook in university towns as far apart as Halle, Uppsala, and Dorpat (Tartu).121 Some universities such as Helmstedt took religious tolerance very seriously, but Hanoverian ‘syncretism’, as it was called at this time, remained, as the reformer Mosheim knew only too well, suspect until 1750 both in the public life of German Lutheran states such as Hanover, and in Scandinavia. However, this new Lutheran civic morality of doing became a persuasive force with laymen in 1700, even if it is difficult to assess quantitatively today. We have seen the Scandinavian popularity of Bishop Joseph Hall's ‘Lipsian’ devotional book, Character of Virtues and Vices.122 As a teaching subject public law linking state, church, and civic values was also furthered by chairs of natural law. These appeared at Uppsala, Kiel, and Jena in 1665; at Lund in 1668, at Königsberg in 1673; Greifswald and Marburg in 1674; Helmstedt in 1675; Erfurt in 1676; Frankfurt an der Oder and Dorpat in 1690; Leipzig in 1711, and Wittenberg in 1719. By 1720, all Protestant universities north of the river Main had chairs of natural law. Halle, founded in 1694, was given the task in 1714 to carry out judicial reforms in this spirit by the new Prussian king. The law faculty under its senior professor, Thomasius (appointed to Samuel Stryk's chair and as university rector in 1710), was empowered to modernize and codify without recourse to Justinian

119

Schneppen, Niederlandische Universitäten, 10 passim. German students ceased visiting Leiden (c. 1740); home universities such as Halle, Leipzig, and Jena had become popular.

120

Benthem, Holländischer Kirch- und Schulen-Staat (1698), i. 150. Locals spoke of Leiden's ‘hoogduytsch’ congregation, Schneppen, 60–1.

121

Schneppen, 98 passim ; Oestreich, Neo-Stoicism, 91 passim, 109–33 (Pufendorf read history and law and matriculated at Leiden in 1660; Thomasius visited Leiden in 1679): Göransson, De svenska studieresorna, and Ortodoxi och synkretism ; Rauch, Universität Dorpat, ch. 16; Rauch, ‘Naturrätten vid “Dorpts akademi’ ”, Sv.E (1936), 5.

122

Oestreich, 32, 116.

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and Roman canon lawyers. This was recognition of a close link between new kingship, natural law, and this modern Protestant canon law coloured by Pietism.123 The cultural status of the German Protestant university in the Baltic also ensured that this new law influenced legal codification in church and state carried out by rulers such as Charles XI of Sweden. A combination of natural-law theory and neo-Stoic values constituted the heart of a new citizenship and statecraft taught by Johannes Gerhard Scheffer (1621–79), appointed Skyttean professor of eloquence and politics at Uppsala in 1665. Scheffer, like his predecessor and mentor, Johann Freinsheim (1608–60), was a pupil of Lipsius and Grotius, as was his contemporary, Pufendorf, at Lund. Uppsala, too, was mother university to the provincial universities of Dorpat (re-established in 1690), Åbo (1640), and Lund (1667) which were founded to teach this new statecraft.124 Its importance can be seen in Dorpat where successive holders of the chair of politics and ethics, the Swedes, Gustav Carlblom (1690–2), Gabriel Sjöberg (1690–1704), and Andreas Palmroot (1700–10) were appointed to teach Jura majestatis, which included, as subjects, Sweden's established Lutheran church, and the law, administration, defence, and economy, or ‘common good’ of the Swedish realm. Pufendorf and Halle's new public and canon law naturally influenced these men and this discipline. It produced, as at Prussian Halle, many theses, and a generation of Pietist jurists, theologians, and civil servants in Sweden, Finland, Estonia, and Livonia at the same time as Halle in Prussia. A prominent example was chancellor Lindschöld, who chaired the commission which produced Sweden's Church Law.125 Modern Protestant canon law was Saxon in origin, and pioneered by Saxon jurists, Pufendorf, Stryk, and Thomasius, as the first chairholders of modern public law at Lund and Halle. These men were heirs to a well-developed legal discipline in Saxon Wittenberg and Leipzig, and an interpretation of local law by Lutheran theologians for use in Saxon church order. The Carpzov family of theologians and lawyers was the most notable in this Saxon tradition. Benedikt (1565–1624), who put Saxon Landrecht on the map, and his

123

Landsberg, Rechtswissenschaft, iii/1. 3, 35, 100.

124

Lindroth, Svensk lärdomshistoria ii. 47–56. Six of Åbo's eleven professors (1640) had been educated in Dutch universities; eight out of Lund's nineteen professors (1668) had been trained at Leiden: Oestreich, 112.

125

Rauch, Universität Dorpat, 307 passim on natural law taught by the mother university, Uppsala. Dorpat and Halle: ibid. 191–4, 226–9, 266–7.

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second son, Benedikt (1599–1666), who wrote the first popular system of Protestant canon law in Germany at Leipzig in 1649, Jurisprudentia ecclesiastica seu consistorialis (eight editions by 1721), are the most notable figures. Novel was the use of local Lutheran church order, documentation provided by Dresden's senior consistory and Saxon provincial consistories, and imperial legislation which related to this. The settlements of 1555 and 1648, Carpzov argued, sanctioned the potestas ecclesiastica externa of a local ruler's consistories. Codification would produce a better Lutheran clergy dedicated to an office which meddled no longer in temporal matters best left to a ruler and his civil servants. Carpzov was also a pious reformer who argued for proper Sunday observance and an end to abusive pulpit refutations of other denominations. Another link in Saxon-Prussian Protestant law was Johann Brunnemann (1608–72), professor of law at Reformed Frankfurt an der Oder. It was his grandson, Samuel Stryk (1640–1710), Thomasius's elder colleague at Halle, who edited posthumously his De jure ecclesiastico tractatus posthumus in usum ecclesiarum evangelicarum et consistoriorum (1681), which became so popular as a Halle legal textbook that it was reprinted five times by 1735. Stryk dedicated his edition to the great elector, saying in his preface that at Halle he would teach the need for royal patronage to defend this new law against theologians who still believed in religious controversy and the use of the refutation (elenchus) in sermons. This was Protestant law which linked Dutch Neo-Stoicism and Dutch Precisionism of the kind practised by Gisbert Voetius (1588–1676) with pious Lutheran devotional authors such as Arndt and the Rostock theologian, Heinrich Müller. An example was Stryk's Halle edition (1700) of Brunnemann's Meditationes sacrae ad ductum Evangeliorum dominicalium; a German version of which followed in 1730.126 However, if any single jurist could claim to father this new law, it was the gifted son of a poor Saxon clergy family, Samuel Pufendorf (1632–94). As a pupil of traditional Aristotelian learning in Saxon grammar schools, and at Leipzig University, Pufendorf knew only too well quixotic Saxon Reformation church order as it had developed since the Reformation. The Osnabrück peace instrument

126

Saxon and Prussian: Landsberg, iii/1. 32; Carpzov family: Stintzing, i. 722 passim, ii. 26 passim ; J.F. von Schulte, Quellen und Literatur, iii/2–3, 39 passim ; Carpzov's Jurisprudentia, Stintzing, ii. 88 passim.

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had also done little to reform irregular Protestant German church order. On the other hand, there was no going back to the papal universal monarchy after 1648: an unchanging Catholic Christian social order was no longer valid. The Thirty Years' War had shown how much men had changed time-honoured political and social relationships. The power of princes and town magistrates had grown immeasurably, and legal and constitutional relationships had been fundamentally realigned. Protestants would have to take local rulers seriously in future. This meant severance from papal canon law, and development of their own ecclesiastical law as part of modern public law. Pufendorf linked natural law with congregational practice in the Early Church, and he applied his theory to Germany's arbitrary religious geometry of 1648. This was the way, he argued, to overcome the chaos of local statutes, customs, and cognate Protestant church order which had accumulated since the Reformation. Pufendorf's originality also consisted of the way he transmitted his teaching to the new Scandinavian monarchies. As the first professor of natural law at the new university of Lund, Pufendorf established his new law as a major teaching subject in the midst of continuous crossfire from his orthodox Lutheran colleagues. His success was due to Charles XI who saw Lund as an institution designed to provide cadres necessary for a loyal Swedish civil service and Lutheran church in what were the recently conquered (1658) former Danish provinces of Scania, Halland, and Blekinge. In two little treatises, the thesis De concordia verae politicae cum religione Christiana (1675), and De habitu Religionis Christianae at vitam civilem (1687), Pufendorf argued, using the landscape of 1648 and similar disorder and squabbles he encountered at Lund during Sweden's Scanian war (1675–6) with Denmark, that public tranquillity and law was best served by a ruler's established religion. This argument for religious concord and moderation was later taken up by Mosheim as professor at Helmstedt (1723–47). He was horrified by his own experience of anti-Pietist squabbles, and hostile pulpit polemics towards Reformed, Mennonite, Catholic, and Jewish settlers in Altona and the new towns Friedrichstadt and Glückstadt founded by the Danish king to further Denmark's prosperity in similar provinces where rightful title and customary arrangements were hotly disputed—Slesvig/Schleswig and Holsten/Holstein—engineered since 1689 by the Wittenberg-trained Lutheran general superintendent, Joshua

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Schwartz (1632–1709). Schwartz had been professor of theology at Lund (1667–76), and the ringleader behind a bitter row against Pufendorf's new Protestant public and canon law. He and likeminded colleagues had accused Pufendorf of being morally indifferent, Epicurean, Hobbesian, Socinian, Calvinist; and, piling Pelion on Ossa, an advocate of polygamy, atheism, and demagogic politics.127 Pufendorf was in fact a staunch supporter of Lutheran Obrigkeit, but his church was tolerant, and close to the new Lutheran practice of piety. Law as command was to be observed, Pufendorf stressed, only in so far as it ensured religious uniformity and peace. As a good Lutheran who read his Bible daily, Pufendorf based this argument on the assumption that Scripture validated civil society; that citizens on the whole were also creatures of habit ‘and do not incline to innovation’. This produced civil concord; the foundation of public law. But where to draw the line between an established church and strong religious convictions was something Pufendorf remained unsure about. He worried about religious dissent: Presbyterians, with the England of 1649 in mind, provided a troublesome precedent.128 In De habitu, dedicated to the great elector, published shortly after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and at a time when England was possibly facing further religious strife, Pufendorf tried to define the extent of a ruler's power over a Protestant church in a landscape where local rulers rather than anointed kings represented particular religious denominations. It was best for a Christian subject if the ruler defended his church from insult; supervised church discipline as the leading member of his church; and supervised doctrinal disputes. A local ruler also possessed the right to call meetings of clergy, reconcile clergy conflicts about doctrine, and enforce their decisions. He could also authorize a liturgy. At face value, this looked like meddlesomeness in sacred matters. But Pufendorf's argument was tempered by what the New Testament and Church Fathers had said about early Christian provincial churches. If a

127

Schwartz was supported by Pufendorf's jealous legal colleague Nicol Beckman. Both hurled abuse in Novitatum Index in S. Pufendorfii libris de Jure naturae et gentium contra orthodoxiae fundamenta contentiaarum etc. (Giessen, 1673); Pufendorf replied in Eris Scandica (Scanian Squabbles) (1686), s.v. ‘Pufendorf ’, BL. Schwartz in Schleswig-Holstein: Orthodoxie und Pietismus, SHKG 4, 113–19.

128

De concordia, 2nd edn. (Uppsala, 1667), 449, 456–7: Krieger, Politics of Discretion, 223, 248.

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Christian congregation was divided into ‘doctores’ and ‘auditores’, there was nevertheless no prescription for individual practice of piety. In Greek, ecclesia meant a concourse of like-minded citizens united by voluntary consent. This meaning was retained by the New Testament, meaning either all Christians, or specifically Christians in ‘a province, town, private house or family’.129 In other words, ecclesia, or coetus fidelium (Pufendorf used both terms interchangeably) were analogous to provincial Christian congregations within the framework of Reformation church order. A Christian congregation in his day, after 1648, therefore performed essentially the same task as a Christian had done in the Early Church: ‘frequentissime actiones, audire verbum Dei, laudare Deum, preces fundere, exercere opera caritatis, versari in timore Domini, jejunare, curam agere pauperum’.130 This congregation, also with Luther in mind, appointed its teachers, and provided for stipends, alms, and other matters necessary for existence as a church. Pufendorf was thus close in his thought to Spener, provost of St Nicholas and assessor of Berlin's Lutheran consistory (1691–1705). He consulted Spener as the Prussian court historiographer. Pufendorf went further to argue that in modern public law a Christian congregation was something like a college, though he never used the term in our modern secular sense. A Protestant church's corporate identity in public law was best secured, however imperfectly, by a local ruler, and not by Rome's hierarchical canon law which had been finally set aside by Osnabrück.131 Pufendorf was lucky to teach at the right time (after Lund he was appointed historiographer to the Swedish, 1677–87, and Prussian, 1688–94, courts successively) when Swedish, Prussian, and Danish kings were busy extending their sovereign powers, and when a generation of senior clergy (after 1721) in these states took to heart a Hallesian practice of piety. This ensured that Protestant canon law, as it developed at the German universities of Halle, Tübingen, and Göttingen (founded by George II in 1734, and opened in 1737) in the period 1700–50, was Pufendorfian. This law became popular at Copenhagen University too, known hitherto for adherence to divine right theory in contrast to Uppsala

129

De habitu, § 30: discussion by F. Schenke, ‘Pufendorfs Religionsbegriff ’, ZSSRGkA 14 (1925), 48–9.

130

De habitu, § 30.

131

Rieker, Rechtliche Stellung, 242, 245; Schenke, 40–1, 50–1, 56–7; Krieger, 223–4, 246, 290.

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and Lund, during the reign of Christian VI (1730–46): a king noted in equal measure for a practice of piety unusual at the Danish court, and for his patronage of modern Protestant public law. The introduction of Pufendorfian and Hallesian law as a teaching subject at Copenhagen was the work of the Danish dramatist and cultural reformer, Ludvig Holberg (1684–1754), professor of metaphysics since 1717, and of Latin eloquence since 1720. Visits to Amsterdam (1704–5), Oxford (1706–8), and Leipzig and Halle (1708–9), convinced Holberg that Denmark's absolute statecraft and poor understanding of citizenship needed the polish of a new moral philosophy based on a knowledge of Danish history and language, and Protestant public and canon law as taught by Grotius, Pufendorf, and Thomasius. The immediate influence on his putting pen to paper was Johann Burkhard Mencke (1674–1721), professor of history at Leipzig since 1699 and historiographer to the Saxon court since 1708, the witty critic of Leipzig academic Latin. Holberg published his plan of a reformation of manners as the condition of modern Danish citizenship, Introduction til Naturens og Folkerettens Kundskab, at Copenhagen (1716), and popularized this new public law in subsequent revised editions which reflected the advance of this thinking and a more polished Danish vernacular (1728, 1734, 1741, and 1751).132 In Protestant Germany this new teaching was developed and refined at Halle, Tübingen, and Göttingen (1700–50). A special feature was the way Stryk and Thomasius, who established Pufendorfian law as a teaching subject at Halle, also sponsored Hallesian Pietism (in Thomasius's case in a succession of colourful public squabbles), and trained a generation of lawyers (and clergy) to spread this message of Protestant rebirth. Stryk was the first to emphasize the comprehensive quality of princely supremacy (Kirchengewalt) in the framework of 1648. In a thesis he supervised, De jure papali principum evangelicorum (1694), Stryk defined this power as analogous to that of Catholic bishops in

132

Introduction til Naturens og Folke-Rettens Kundskab, uddragen af de fornemster Juristers besynderlig Grotii, Pufendorffs og Thomasii Skrifter, illustreret med Exempler af de Nordiske Historier, og confereret med disse Rigers, saa vel gamle som nye Love (Copenhagen, 1716). To polish, polere, was Holberg's favourite word for creating better citizenship: ‘Vor Næstes Gavn og Nytte befordre vi, enten i det vi dyrke og polere vort Sind og Legeme’, etc., Introduction, 116; his saying, ‘For Folk ei ene, men og Sproget at polere’, Molbech, Dansk Ordbog (1833), ii. 197. Holberg approved of Thomasius's similar views in his Leipzig journal, Gedanken oder Monats-Gespräche (1688–90). Contract and obligation: Introduction, chs. 14–15.

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Catholic lands. It was quite different to Territorialhoheit, which obliged a local ruler to acknowledge the Catholic emperor. A Protestant prince's religious supremacy was based partly on local legislation and partly on the religious settlements of 1552, 1555, and 1648. Protestant churches were dependent on the Protestant state as was any other corporate public authority. Public law demanded obedience from clergy and parishioners.133 Every Protestant prince was a ‘Pope, Emperor, and Master of the Teutonic Order in his own lands’.134 This was a definition which made up for the lack of divinity surrounding German Protestant princes. Hallesian Protestant royal supremacy was thus even more extensive than Rome's, since a pope usually needed the assent of his cardinals. It was, however, congenial to Reformed Hohenzollerns who needed solid legal arguments against Catholic Saxon electors (since 1697) and the papacy, and a rationale that suggested that religious toleration was better served by the prince, than by one-sided punitive sermons from clergy in an established church.135 Thomasius went further. He saw it as his civic duty as a professor of jurisprudence to put the Lutheran postReformation church back into the centre of public life. It was to be a modern church free of Roman influence. Thomasius had already nailed the programme of his German lectures on a timely reformation of manners, based on maxims of the Spaniard Baltasar Gracian y Morales (1601–58), on the screens outside the university chapel of Leipzig in 1687, to remind his peers of the continuing hold of the Latin papal monarchy in Protestant Germany almost two centuries after Luther's Wittenberg theses. ‘The mysteries of God do indeed surpass the human understanding, but they are not wholly incompatible with it,’ uttered in 1691, was a battle-cry for what followed at Halle in two seminal theses defended by the Frisian student, Enno Rudolf Brenneysen (1669–1734): De jure principis circa adiaphora (1695), and Das Recht evangelischer Fürsten in theologischen Streitigkeiten (1696) which

133

‘Summe autem ista potestas versatur praecipue circa tria (1) Doctrinam; (2) Disciplinam; (3) Res est Bona’, De Jure papali principum, 17; Landsberg, iii/1. 68.

134

‘Ein jeder Fürst ist Pabst, Kayser und Teutschmeister in seinem Lande’ in Opera Omnia, 2nd edn. (Frankfurt, 1745), vii. 54; Liermann, ‘Sakralrecht’, 311. Father and son (Johann Samuel, 1668–1715) supervised a mass of theses on the rights and duties of princes: collected in Opera Omnia (Frankfurt, 1743–55), 17 vols.

135

‘Ex summo et absoluto dominio coronae regni Prussiae fluunt jura omnia majestatis circa sacra et secularia’, M. Gehrke, Diss. de corona regni Prussiae, ejus significationis heraldica, origine et juribus majestatis circa sacra (Königsberg, 1714), 10, cited Pariset, L'État et les Églises, 35.

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Thomasius dictated in robust German prose to get across his Reformation message.136 Following Grotius, Pufendorf, and Locke (Thomasius was the first to propagate Locke's toleration in Germany), and his hero Luther, Thomasius stressed in the first dissertation that faith is a matter of will. The practice of Christian piety is as much a private as a public matter. One should follow the congregational example of the Early Church. Public worship was an accidental development in Christian history. Erasmus's debate about ‘essentials’ resurfaced. Christian public worship changed with time: compare that under Constantine, Theodosius, and Justinian with St Paul, or Lutheran public worship in 1700 with Reformation church orders. Ceremony should not be taken too seriously, as Thomasius's source, Magdeburg's 1562 church order (reissued 1652, 1685), emphasized.137 Beware of an established clergy such as that in Leipzig, Halle, or Dresden. They were Latin offspring of a Carolingian clerisy who still possessed too much coercive power. Thomasius emphasized that Lutheran clergy were subject to public law; the prince could legislate on public worship (ceremony was unimportant to salvation): but a Christian prince could not control religious conscience, since he was only head of the visible established church. In the second dissertation, Thomasius went further in his condemnation of inquisitorial practices he associated with Roman canon and criminal law, alleging that they had crept into Lutheran church discipline and ceremony since the Reformation. In his preface he remarked what a fine church it was which let innocent blood flow, and where ‘scribes’ knew more about Aristotelian metaphysics than Christ's work. A 7-year-old heard better the voice of the Good Shepherd. In the context of Halle in 1696, it was a side-swipe at the Leipzig theologian Samuel Benedikt Carpzov's (1647–1707) love of judgemental words such as judex and decidere.138 There was also a bitter personal tone. The vicar of Glaucha, Francke, whose exemplary piety Thomasius admired, had dared openly to condemn

136

German: Das Recht Evangelischer Fürsten in Mittel-Dingen oder Kirchen-Ceremonien (1705). ‘Pabst (Pfaffen)-Sprache’, Hodermann, Universitätsvorlesungen, 15. Thomasius preferred fashionable dress to the customary black academic gown. He used Gracian's El Oraculo manual y arte de prudencia (1647)—translated later by Schopenhauer.

137

The preface mentions Magdeburg church order: Sehling, Kirchenordnungen, ii. 408; Graff, Auflösung, i. 30.

138

Carpzov, De jure decidendi controversias (Halle, 1696); Thomasius was thinking also of his bitter opponent, Masius.

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the Thomasius family's florid lifestyle. Francke had excluded Thomasius's wife from Easter communion because she was ‘overdressed’, and he had complained bitterly about the haughty and libertine ways of his sons. This was too much: pious example should be that, and no more. Thomasius, like his fashionable peers, was angered: exclusion from parish communion damaged his reputation; it was also coercive.139 Thomasius argued that you cannot make parishioners pious: that in the landscape of Dutch and English toleration, and that of Protestant Germany after 1648, it was impossible to enforce religious uniformity. Christian history provided ample evidence of what intolerance produced: look at Cyril and the Nestorians, Emperor Theodosius at Ephesus, or councils of fallible clergy since Chalcedon. How could you subscribe to a man-made Formula of Concord if you were ignorant of its contents? Everyman had to express and answer for his religion; ecclesia representativa was a papal construct; the Lutheran church was subject to public law; the Lutheran social ranking distinguishing the educated, military, and peasantry, Lehr-WehrNähr-Stand, had no place in a Christian congregation; rank and office did not sanctify a Lutheran clergyman. Clergymen were servants of the congregation and the state. Jus tolerandi was the chief regalian right: if it was not, look what happened before 1648.140 Religious oaths were unchristian: Christ demanded none from his disciples. Refutations of different religious persuasions from pulpits had to stop; true repentance was not achieved by public floggings. History showed that Gospel freedom was more secure under a local prince than under a ‘clerisy’; but good Christian government should be carried out by a gentle hand. On the face of it, Thomasian canon law looked like an Erastianism worthy of Henry VIII. It was unfortunate that Brenneysen, who subsequently became chancellor of East Frisia (from 1708), imposed a nakedly absolutist regime on the Frisian estates and church. Holberg, returning to Denmark after a trip to Paris, was surprised to wake up in the town of Leer on the morning of 6 April 1726 to hear the storm-bell ringing to announce a siege in a civil war over Brenneysen's assault on Frisian liberties (Appelle-Krieg,

139

‘Auffallende grosse Kleiderpracht’, Kramer, Francke, ii. 149–50.

140

‘Das vornehmste regal, das einem Fürsten circa sacra zukommt, ist das Recht die Dissentirende zu toleriren, und wider die Anti-Christlichen Verfolger zu schützen’, Recht evangelischer Fürsten, thesis 14, 167.

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1724–7).141 It was not a good beginning for pious Lutheran lawyers. On the other hand, Stryk and Thomasius, like Pufendorf, linked a sincere spiritual interest in the Early Church's congregational example with Spener and Francke. Stryk was noted at Halle for his pious and charitable heart: he gave much to the poor, and he introduced a StudentenTisch, a table for poor students, in 1702, providing on his birthday until his death, bread and wine for all the teachers and orphans of Francke's Institutes.142 Thomasius, if he spent much time on the latest Anglican, Dutch, French Jansenist and Gallican scholarship, and built one of the most comprehensive collections of Bibles and of Luther's writings, was not a scholar who remained crouched over books.143 He warm-heartedly subscribed to Spener's version of the Sermon on the Mount in Pia Desideria: Sanftmut was a favourite Spenerian and Thomasian word. Like Stryk, Thomasius was generous to the poor, and a champion of a properly paid and better-educated parish clergy.144 He read his Bible and Luther, whose prose-style he imitated, daily. Sin, justification, and atonement, the need for a state of grace, were realities. He feared and trembled, and recited daily the Lord's Prayer, despite his condemnation of witchtrials, spooks, and superstition. If Lutheran church government was in future best carried out by a local ruler, it had nevertheless to respect a vital and active Christian congregational faith. It was this which allied him to a reawakened historical interest, pioneered by the clergyman Gottfried Arnold (1666–1714), in the first three Christian centuries, and prompted him to tell his students to sell everything to buy Arnold's new history of heresy. Thomasian jurisprudence also established itself as ‘Protestant’ canon law at this time. ‘Eine Probe des Deutschen Geistlichen Rechts . . . zum Gebrauch Protestirender Staaten’ published, ironically, at Leipzig in 1701, was the first example of German Protestant canon law based on available post-Reformation sources. Its author, the Thuringian, Gerhard Gottlieb Titius (d. 1714), a star pupil of

141

Holbergs Memoirer, 134–5, 314–15; Hughes, Law and Politics, 123–55. Brenneysen's Halle training in sources led him to reorganize the princely archive in Aurich. Documents he found there suggested that privileges claimed by the estates had no foundation in law. His folio Frisian history: Ostfriesische Historie und Landesverfassung (Aurich, 1720), 2 vols.

142

Kramer, Francke, i. 200; Schrader, Halle, i. 128.

143

Weiβenborn, ‘Bibliothek Thomasius’, Fleischmann (ed.), Thomasius, 423–52.

144

De natura bonorum saecularisatorum, and De officio principis Evangelici circa augenda salaria et honores Ministrorum Ecclesiae (both 1707): Landsberg, iii/1. 96 passim ; Bienert, Anbruch, 155 passim.

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Thomasius and a lecturer at Leipzig since 1688, obviously had big problems with preferment as he was not appointed a professor of jurisprudence until 1710, only shortly before his death but was nevertheless extremely successful in establishing Pufendorfian and Hallesian public and canon law. His textbook was republished in popular editions of 1709 and 1741, and its argument provided the model for Böhmer's subsequent codification.145 The generation teaching after 1720 had more peace of mind, wrote in a more relaxed and urbane style, and addressed more easily future ordinands as members of a ‘Protestant’ church. It was a fresher atmosphere which a gifted hometownsman like Johann Jakob Moser longed for: ‘how I might have shone, if I had come to a place like Göttingen, or Halle’ was the way he later expressed a missed opportunity, in his autobiography.146 Justus Henning Böhmer, in his Jus ecclesiasticum protestantium—published in five stout quarto volumes (1714–37)—remodelled the Reformation view of the church into one where the Early Church congregation, coloured by contemporary Anglican patristic scholarship and Western natural-law contract, governed church and state.147 He thus turned Grotius and Pufendorf into what we today call ‘collegiates’. The Protestant Church was a voluntary association (collegium) in which supreme authority rested with its members as a body with some degree of self-government in the state. This was a view which his friend Mosheim transmitted to the new university of Göttingen. He had asked Böhmer to provide a draft commentary on the separate paragraphs of his draft statutes for Göttingen's theology faculty, and he incorporated much of Böhmer's collegialism into his lectures on ecclesiastical law.148 Mosheim, as a theologian who pioneered modern ecclesiastical history, modern preaching, and professional standards of pastoral care, put up a much more spirited case than his predecessors for a better-educated and betterpaid Lutheran parish clergy. As a teacher, he also made Protestant

145

His edition of Pufendorf's De Officio (1703) and other writings (1715–69) were standard texts in their day; he pioneered modern German feudal law: Das Deutsche Lehnrecht, durch kurze und deutliche Sätze vorgestellt (Leipzig, 1699; several edns. by 1730).

146

Lebensgeschichte, i. 161, cited Mack Walker, Moser, 183.

147

The second revised ed. (1720) was dedicated to George I as the kind of ruler Böhmer wished to see promoting peace and friendship amongst European nations; he admired Peter King, Enquiry into the Constitution, Discipline, Unity and Worship of the Primitive Church (1691), publishing his own version (1733).

148

Rössler, Gründung der Universität Göttingen, 270–97; Stroup, Struggle for Identity, 50–81.

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Germany aware of the history of the early Church, and the Anglican church's constitutional history, its liturgy, and the homiletics of his Anglican contemporaries.149 Mosheim's legal lectures were eventually published posthumously in 1760, and so formed a link with tolerant teaching at Göttingen of the kind personified by Böhmer's third son, Georg Ludwig (1715–97), professor of law at Göttingen after 1742, who adapted his father's Hallesian views to suit a more liberal-minded Protestant student audience.150 There was a southern German connection too. Württemberg had its own Reformation church tradition and, in the eighteenth century, its own brand of Pietism, but Pfaff, as chancellor of Tübingen University for some thirty-six years (1720–56), popularized north German Protestant canon law and Pietism in lectures to his theology students. His lectures on Protestant canon law, which he published in 1742, were dedicated to the civil lawyer, Gerlach Adolph von Münchhausen (1688–1770), founder of Göttingen university.151 Pfaff argued for ‘plenty of fresh air, a need to look over the hill’, for unforced speech, for a reformation of manners in Thomasius's and Holberg's sense. Like Mosheim, he demanded from his students knowledge of the sources of the Early Church and Württemberg local church order, and a readiness to learn from Hallesian, Anglican, Reformed, and Moravian constitutional and liturgical history since the Reformation. He also popularized their contemporary patristic scholarship and pastoral teaching.152 Pfaff gave collegialism lasting shape. The idea of equilibrium between the three major confessions written into Osnabrück was the only way forward: the Instrumentum Pacis Osnabrugense was as valid a source for German Protestants as was Luther's Bible.153 Every modern Protestant rite originated in this settlement: it replaced the immense number of German Reformation church orders which were being gathered in

149

See De rebus Christianorum ante Constantinum Magnum Commentarii (Helmstedt, 1753); his republished Institutiones historiae ecclesiasticae antiquae et recentioris (Helmstedt, 1755) was sufficiently up to date to merit translation into English (The Hague, 1764); further editions (New Haven, Conn., 1832), and (London, 1841), were revised by William Stubbs (London, 1863), 3 vols.

150

Allgemeines Kirchenrecht der Protestanten, ed. Christian Ernst von Windheim (Helmstedt, 1760).

151

Academische Reden über das so wohl allgemeine als auch Teutsche Protestantische Kirchen-Recht (Tübingen, 1742).

152

Preface, ‘Ich liebe Licht, Höfflichkeit, Wahrheit und Frieden, und lasse übrigens dem publico und den Vernunfftigen das Urtheil.’

153

Academische Reden, 17.

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his day for the first time.154 On the other hand, collegialism did have its limits. In the second part of his published lectures, Pfaff made it clear that like Pufendorf he disapproved of Protestant dissent, feared the rise of British Deism, and wished Jews and usury to be banished from his native Württemberg. At the end of the day the prince was still master: Noth bricht Eisen, the state could sequestrate church property, and thus, by implication, Württemberg's geistliches Gut.155

154

Ibid. 19 passim. Pfaff stressed the importance of the IPO as a guarantee for decent public burial of minority denominations. Fees (Jurae stolae), though, were to be paid to the vicar, ibid. 328.

155

Dissent: ibid. 130 passim ; atheism: 104 passim ; Jews: 108 passim ; Deism: 110 passim ; church property: 326, 504.

6 The Clergy I. A Training in Theology By 1700, a majority of German and Scandinavian Protestant clergy completed a course of theology at a university. It conferred status in a way which social background could not. Theology as a Latin written training gave authority and a common identity to clergymen as an educated class (Lehrstand) which transcended local church boundaries, and set them apart from the vernacular oral culture of their parishioners. A university training also put the clergy on an equal footing politically with nobility and burghers, since universities trained a state's officials and jurists in statecraft, and its clergy in the task of spreading a Reformation faith in the towns and countryside. A distinctive feature of some twenty-nine ‘German’ universities amongst the forty or so in the empire, was a development where higher learning had become a Lutheran speciality in 1700. There were fifteen Lutheran universities, eight of which were founded as specifically Lutheran universities during the Counter-Reformation. To seven Lutheran Reformation universities—Leipzig (1409), Rostock (1419), Greifswald (1456), Tübingen (1477), Wittenberg (1502), Marburg (1527), and Königsberg (1544)—were added Jena (1558), Helmstedt (1571), Giessen (1607), Strasburg (1621), Rinteln (1621), Altdorf (1623), Kiel (1665), and Halle (1694), the last German university founded for confessional reasons. Göttingen (1737), and Erlangen (1743) represented a new secular learning. If Lutheran universities showed a decline in student attendance compared with the period c.1600–50, all educated more than 100 students in 1700, and Saxony, the Lutheran heartland, still remained leader, with Wittenberg educating 500, Leipzig, 850, and Jena, 900. Lutheran theology shaped a Protestant university curriculum and life for most of the eighteenth century, especially if Lutheran Copenhagen (1479), Uppsala (1477), Dorpat/Tartu (1632–1710),

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Åbo (1640), Lund (1666), and Greifswald (Swedish between 1637–1815) are added. Copenhagen educated 350–400 students (1600–1750); Uppsala 700–1,000 students (c.1670–1700). Catholic Germany was served by six medieval universities: Cologne (1388), Erfurt (1392), Freiburg (1457), Ingolstadt (1472), Trier (1473), and Mainz (1476), and only four Counter-Reformation Catholic universities: Dillingen (1554), Würzburg (1582), Paderborn (1614), and Bamberg (1648), given a new emphasis on education in a bishop's seminary. Catholic universities educated roughly equal numbers of students (c.150–400) to the Lutherans. Reformed universities were much fewer in number. There were only five: Heidelberg (1386), which was turned Catholic by force (1685–1803), Frankfurt an der Oder (1506), Marburg which turned Reformed (1607), Herborn (1584), and Duisburg (1655). These universities (particularly Heidelberg and Marburg) were compromised by political circumstance; in some cases offered a less highly qualified training (Herborn offered a studium generale without graduation), and were poorer in student attendance: in 1700, Herborn educated seventy-five and Duisburg fifty students.156 However, a shift of some consequence for Lutheran leadership in learning had taken place by 1730. Halle had quickly reached Jena's popularity in educating some 900–1,000 students. If the 225 or so students of Reformed Frankfurt an der Oder, and the small number at Herborn and Duisburg are added, Brandenburg-Prussia as a Protestant kingdom, though still overwhelmingly Lutheran, showed that it was beginning to surpass Lutheran Saxony as a seat of Protestant learning. Berlin, under Spener's and Francke's pupils, Johann Porst (1688–1728), provost of St Nicholas after 1712, and Johann Gustav Reinbeck (1683–1741), provost of St Peter's after 1717, became a powerful intellectual arm of Halle for the rest of the eighteenth century. Hallesian modern Protestant theology and public law were also exportable: they inspired the founders of the new university of Göttingen, and its theology faculty (Ch. 5). But, it should not be forgotten that Leipzig and Jena remained extremely influential Lutheran universities, and that Leipzig, in particular, pioneered modern Saxon as a German national high language for use in church and state, and a German ‘Reformation of Manners’.

156

Surveys: Evans, ‘German Universities after the Thirty Years' War’, History of Universities, i. 189; Tholuck, Akademische Leben, ii.

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Mencke's influence on Holberg, Holberg's championship of Leipzig and Göttingen at Sorø Academy (1665), reestablished in 1747, and the friendship and correspondence of the great linguist Gottsched (see below) at Leipzig with Mosheim at Göttingen are symptomatic. Lutheran theology, as it was taught in all these universities until c.1770, was in broad terms a firm response in contents and method to the successful challenge of Jesuit teaching after the Council of Trent.157 Wittenberg, Leipzig, Jena, and Tübingen theology were coloured by exclusive Lutheran doctrine contained in the Formula (1577) and Book of Concord (1580). The same was true of Uppsala and her daughter universities Åbo and Dorpat, Lund, Greifswald, and Copenhagen, though the Formula and Book of Concord had been rejected by Denmark, and were not officially recognized in Sweden. Both monarchies, however, approved of these Lutheran formulae as a teaching norm. But Lutheran theology had already become less strict in some of these universities in the seventeenth century. It varied between an openness to the Reformed faith (Helmstedt ‘syncretism’), and a warmer pastoral and devotional theology, which was taught in universities like Rostock, Greifswald (under Swedish rule), and Kiel; and at Jena, Tübingen, and Strasburg. In this way Pietism (as pastoral theology) taught at the new Prussian university of Halle, and at Jena, and Tübingen, became dominant almost everywhere in Germany and Scandinavia by 1730, despite elaborate systems of official censorship.158

II. Lutheran ‘Orthodoxy’ Fashioned by Hallesian Pietism and a German University Reformation of Manners C. 1690–1730. Historians should not make too much of Lutheran Theology after the Council of Trent as a closed scholastic system (1563–c.1730), though it was in essence an existential response in contents and method (metaphysics: knowledge of the res fidei) to the Jesuit challenge in higher learning.159 Our modern view of Lutheran clergy schooled by a moribund ‘Old Lutheranism’ is still coloured by Ciceronian criticism, often wildly over the top, by two academics close to Hallesian Pietism: Thomasius and his friend, the theologian

157

Ratschow, Lutherische Dogmatik, i. 15–6. Scriptural authority, i. 106.

158

Rostock etc.: Leube, Reformideen, 63 passim ; mild Jena: TRE s.v. Jena; links Jena and Tübingen: Stolzenburg, Theologie des J. F. Buddeus und des C. M. Pfaff.

159

Altlutherisch, Altprotestantisch, as enlightened concepts: Ratschow, i. 14.

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manqué and ecclesiastical historian, Gottfried Arnold. Their rhetoric was immediately exposed by their great Saxon contemporary defender of the Lutheran faith, Valentin Ernst Löscher (1674–1749), superintendent in Delitzsch (1701–7) and Dresden (after 1709). He thought their criticism did the mild Lutheran established church of Electoral Saxony (a church in Arnold's sense could never be entirely spiritual either) much harm at a time when Elector Augustus converted to Catholicism. Löscher renamed his new theological journal (1701), the first in German lands, Unschuldige Nachrichten (Innocent News) in 1702 as a firm reply to Thomasian journalese, and he dedicated likewise his first volume of Reformation documents (1720) to Frederick III of Denmark (1648–70) ‘as a true follower of the Gospel’, and the second (1723) to Frederick I of Sweden (1720–51) and Queen Ulrika Eleonora. His like-minded colleague and neighbour, Ernst Salomo Cyprian (1673–1745), director of the Collegium Casimirianum at Coburg (1700), after 1713 in Coburg's consistory, was far ruder, coining the tag ‘Ubi Thomasius non lyrat, Arnoldus semper delirat’, and poking fun by listing as simple and absurd headings the grievous sins attributed by Arnold to Lutherans in what was supposed to be his ‘impartial’ church history.160 Thomasius and Arnold had painted, in journalism imitating Luther's robust prose, a lurid picture of Wittenberg and Leipzig's obscure scholastic, arrogant, and malicious Latin Lutheran theology in the overheated climate of Thomasius's ‘expulsion’ in 1690 from Leipzig, and Arnold's resignation (within a year of being appointed) from the chair of history at Giessen (1698)—even academic history at a Lutheran university was too much for Arnold's oversensitive psyche—and his second ‘awakening’ at Quedlinburg. Polemics began in Thomasius's Leipzig journal, the Monatsgespräche (1688–90), which invited contributions, notably by Arnold, on the Early Church and Lutheranism since the Reformation; continued in the many Hallesian legal dissertations Thomasius presided over and in his other writings calling for a reformation of manners, and was given a finishing touch in Arnold's two-volume Unpartheyische

160

Altes und Neues aus dem Schatz Theologischer Wissenschaften (Wittenberg, 1701); Unschuldige Nachrichten Von Alten und Neuen Theologischen Sachen (1702–19); Fortgesetzte Sammlung von Alten und Neuen Theologischen Sachen (1720–61). Löscher, Vollständige Reformationsakta und Dokumenta oder umständliche Vorstellung des evangelischen Reformationswerks (Leipzig, 1720–9), 3 vols.; F. Blanckmeister, Der Prophet aus Kursachsen: Valentin Ernst Löscher und seine Zeit (Dresden, 1920), 237–8.

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Kirchen- und Ketzer-Historie vom Anfang des Neuen Testaments bis auff das Jahr 1688 (Frankfurt am Main; 1699–1700). Both called for a return to the simplicity of the Early Church. Impartial or professional ecclesiastical history was necessary. Nothing useful had appeared since Eusebius. Lutheranism, they argued, had only produced the partisan Historia Ecclesiae Christi (Centuriators of Magdeburg, 1559–74), despite Luther's plea for a thorough reform of German university teaching in his An den christlichen Adel (1520) and other writings. Lutheran clergy as a Lehrstand were not solely competent to decide religious questions. There were too many local Lutheran popes, who had become bloodhounds of a coercive church which did not hesitate to let blood flow. Modern professional history and Hallesian natural law showed the way back to the Reformation and Early Church. Parishioners should be free to express religious opinion; clergy were servants of the congregation. The Christian faith had never been about religious uniformity; faith (with Hobbes in mind) was a characteristic of the human will rather than the understanding; a quarrelsome clerisy using Jesuitical principles to defend confessional ‘concord’ was out of date; the Lutheran Libri symbolici had no higher authority than other books; Christians as individuals should seek the truth, and every parishioner could admonish the ministry (2 Timothy 2: 2). Arnold went further than Thomasius. He turned Lutheranism into one amongst many Christian persuasions, and in its allegedly coercive seventeenth-century form, into little more than a modern heresy which had erred from the path of simple early Christianity. ‘Lutheranism’, in the fine analytical index of the third revised edition of Arnold's ecclesiastical history (1742), was bracketed with a local Lutheran Babel dominated by a corrupt, cocksure, and partisan élite of university theologians. Lutheran theology was the Kingdom of Darkness which Hobbes described in part four of Leviathan. The will, and not the understanding, was the important human agent in matters of faith. A heretic did not err in doctrine, but in leading an unrestrained life where apostolic Christianity was never ‘reborn’. Religion (the heart and will), and theology (the brain) were entirely different. Lutheran theology, to quote Hobbes, consisted of ‘insignificant trains of strange and barbarous words’. Faculties such as Wittenberg were not places to visit to find Christian truth. It was impossible to understand the history of the Christian church by mind alone. The heart and emotions, spiritual

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rebirth, what Arnold called ‘illumined eyes’ (erleuchteten Augen), were equally necessary. The history of the Christian church had to be seen on its own terms, and as separate from secular history.161 Thomasius and Arnold's interpretation might have been forgotten, as were their reputations in 1750, had it not been for an extensive literature for and against in the half-century 1700–50. It was kept alive notably by Buddeus and his pupils at Jena (Buddeus was the first theologian to lecture in German in Jena); by his disciple and good friend Pfaff at Tübingen; and by contemporaneous reform of the German language and a call for a modern German culture at Leipzig.162 Their interpretation of Orthodoxy as a century or more (after c. 1600) of theological squabbles found lasting historical expression in the verbose five-volume book published at Jena (1730–9) by Johann Georg Walch, Buddeus's son-in-law, and editor of the Halle edition of Luther (Ch. 1, n. 15). Characteristic of Walch and Pfaff was their long tenure of office. This allowed them to amplify these views. Walch held Jena's Chair of Theology for fifty years (1724–75), and Pfaff was chancellor of Tübingen for thirty years (1720–56). They were supported by Mosheim and his successful introduction of modern preaching, pastoral theology, and ecclesiastical history at Helmstedt, and Göttingen. The learned (gelahrt) manner of Lutheran theologians, what Thomasius frequently labelled theological ‘crickets in the head’, or whimsies (Grillen), an academic charlatanry, was fashioned both to highlight the new practice of Piety, and contemporaneous German cultural reform.163 Thomasius and linguistic reformers such as Mencke, editor of the Acta Eruditorum and historiographer to the Electoral Saxon court, or his star pupil, the East Prussian, Johann Christoph Gottsched (1700–66), senior of the Leipzig Deutsche Gesellschaft (1727) and professor of poetry after 1730, saw the times as ripe for the creation of a commonsensical middle-class prose and

161

Seeberg, ‘Christian Thomasius und Gottfried Arnold’, Neue kirchliche Zeitschrift, 31 (1920), 337–58; Cyprian, Allgemeine Anmerckungen (Frankfurt, 1701), 66–7; Hobbes, Herbert of Cherbury, and Spinoza: Arnold, Unpartheyische Kirchen- und Ketzer-Historien (Schaffhausen, 1742), ii. 217–18; TRE s.v. ‘Erleuchtung’, Langen, Wortschatz Pietismus, 44 passim.

162

Buddeus spoke of Pfaff as ‘clarissimo mihique amicissimo’, Stolzenburg, pp. viii–ix, and (Buddeus and Pfaff's influence) 379–450.

163

Grimm, Deutsches Wörterbuch, s.v. Gelehrsamkeit, Gelehrt, Gelahrt, Thomasius, ‘Gelehrsamkeit ist nicht das gröste Glück des Menschen’.

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history. They too, notably Mencke in his immensely popular Leipzig lectures, De charlataneria eruditorum (1715), helped to wipe out the positive features of Lutheran learning in the age of the Counter-Reformation, and made more of it as a Jesuitical system than it actually was. In the long term, this joint view of Halle and Leipzig made its way, ironically enough, in the climate of the early nineteenth-century awakening into the leading neo-Lutheran textbook on Lutheran dogmatics (1843, eight editions by 1893) by Heinrich Schmid (1811–85) of Erlangen University, and like-minded Tholuck's pioneering accounts of seventeenth-century German Protestantism and its university system.164 This was a view which really denied the variety of theological instruction obtained in this plurality of universities in an age when an iter academicum was considered a must for ordinands. Lutheran universities were thus as much seedbeds for new ideas and reform, as they were fortresses of untainted doctrine. Most German Lutheran theologians visited one or more home universities (a German tradition which really came to a halt with German political division between 1949 and 1989). Scandinavian ordinands usually followed Hamlet's example by visiting Wittenberg, and two or more German universities. Most senior German and Scandinavian clergy, as we shall see, attended Dutch and English universities (Oxford and Cambridge) for a year or more in their course of study. Lutheran home university theologians and local churches, whether they liked it or not, were therefore constantly subjected to this commerce in learning. Censorship was almost powerless. The half-century (c. 1700–50) showed that the Danish and Swedish absolute monarchies could prevent neither Dutch nor English Puritanism, nor Halle's Pietism gaining a successful hold amongst a new post-war generation of parish clergy. This hostile portrait of Lutheran theology also denies its living quality in an age where episcopal seminaries, and seminaries run by the Jesuit order for the Catholic parish clergy on guidelines established by the Council of Trent made Catholic university theology, even the universities themselves (the case in France), almost redundant. If German philosophy and philology, the two disciplines associated with the advance of scientific inquiry after c.1750 in a way undreamt of in Catholic Germany and neighbouring

164

Ratschow thought it not worth re-editing: Lutherische Dogmatik (1964–71); Leube, Orthodoxie und Pietismus, 27–8.

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France, were still considered ancilla theologiae before this date, their advance thereafter would be unthinkable without ‘embattled’ Lutheran universities.

III. Training Thomasian and Arnoldian criticism of confessional control was fair in one sense. Theology was still beatissimum studium, prince amongst university faculties, and supreme in grammar schools: the entrance to higher learning and the professions.165 Even Holberg had to enrol as a theology student at Copenhagen. Theology was authoritative politically, since Reformation church orders had made theology faculties an integral part of local Kirchenregiment. Theologians sat in equal numbers next to jurists in German local consistories; in Sweden, the diocesan chapter was the consistory (Stockholm's city clergy sat in a city consistory). Theologians were close everywhere to Protestant courts as court chaplains (notably Brandenburg-Prussia). Wittenberg professors were even prepared to lay down their professorships to become senior court chaplains at Dresden. In Brunswick, the title ‘abbot’ was given to the most distinguished theologians. In Denmark, the senior theological professor, summus theologus at Copenhagen University, had automatically become bishop of Sjælland since the appointment of Hans Poulsen Resen (1597–1639) in 1615. The title ‘D.Theo’ was a sign of political and social eminence everywhere.166 Theologians drafted a ruler's religious legislation, and a theology faculty's council Gutachten/Consilia counted politically, socially, and morally. Countless numbers of theology theses gathered roughly thirty to a quarto volume also made theology's voice heard officially. A good example of size were the 3,455 theses bound in 115 volumes listed in the 1739 auction catalogue of Thomasius's library, and the theses supervised by Thomasius's malevolent opponent, the Mecklenburger, Hector Gottfried Masius (1653–1709), professor of theology at Copenhagen since 1683. Edited in 1719, they filled 1,400 quarto pages. German and Scandinavian theses covered an almost inexhaustible range of topics: serious issues on Church and State; refutations (Streitschriften);

165

‘Noch vor dreissig Jahren wollte ich keinem geraten haben, das sanctus vor einem patre wegzulassen’, Mosheim (1738) lecture on church history, cited Heussi, Mosheim Kirchengeschichte, 44.

166

Tholuck, Akademische Leben, i. 45 passim; Københavns universitet v. 103.

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moral issues such as whether engaged couples should sleep together before marriage; liturgical and homiletic questions like public prayers, or whether long sermons were healthy; ecclesiology on bells and pews; and inconsequential detail about meals and their provisioning during visitations.167 The Protestant ordinand in the early eighteenth century was trained in a university steeped in a medieval past where church and state, religious and secular, were intertwined. Whether the ministry was jure divino or de jure humano was difficult for an ordinand to answer. Strict observance of the faith of the local church was statutory; university study and appointment in church and state was based on an oath to the faith of the land (Eid in German; Ed in Swedish and Danish). Tübingen University statutes required an oath to the Formula of Concord. In Electoral Saxony until 1700, students and staff, even fencing and dancing instructors, were obliged to sign the Book of Concord.168 Staff of all Lutheran and Reformed university faculties were obliged to respect the symbols, or articles of faith of the local church before this gradually disappeared c.1800–50. In 1679, the theologians of Jena forced—perhaps with a sense of humour—the famous mathematician associated with the reform of the Gregorian calendar, Erhard Weigel (1625–99), to publicly refute his statement that he could prove the Trinity using mathematical principles. Similar obligations held in Reformed universities. Until c.1750, Duisburg, Herborn, and Marburg required from all staff and students observance of the Reformed articles of faith; Johann Stephan Pütter (1725–1807), who pioneered imperial public law at Göttingen after 1747 for sixty years, was refused as a Lutheran a professorship in Reformed Marburg University.169 The same was true of both Protestant confessions in secondary education, where most senior schoolmasters were theologians. As late as 1760, at Hamm's

167

Masius's collected theses: Københavns universitet, v. 177–8; Thomasius: Hope, ‘View from the Province’, JEH 41 (1990), 608–9; Halle (1724) theses on premarital intercourse (Franckean against, Thomasian for), Universitätsbibliothek, Marburg, XVIII d B 984b; F. Saltern (J. H. Böhmer), De Jure Precum Publicarum, von öffentlichen Kirchen-Gebeten (Halle, 1733); J. M. Eschenwecker, Diss., Quod Justum est circa Campanas, vom Recht der Glocken (Halle, 1739); J. F. Otto, Diss. med., De Concinionum salubri mensura; Wie Lange vor Lehrer und Zuhörer zu predigen gesund sey ? (Halle, 1739); F. Philippi, Tractatio de Subselliis Templorum vulgo von Kirchen-Stühlen (Leipzig, 1729); J. C. Hoffmann, De Procurationibus Canonicis, von Visitations-Mahlen und Verpflegungen (Altdorf, 1701), Universitätsbibliothek, Marburg, XVIII a B 2325.

168

Tholuck, Akademische Leben, i. 5.

169

Ibid. 7–8, 9 (Reformed universities), 15 (Pütter).

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Reformed Gymnasium, members of the senate objected to a Lutheran being appointed to the professorship of mathematics. This prompted the sarcastic comment by the Prussian education minister, Karl Abraham von Zedlitz (1731–93), as to whether they could really make such a fine distinction between Reformed and Lutheran mathematics.170 In most theology faculties, the long black gown (cappa clausa, or schwarze Kutte) inherited from pre-Reformation times was worn everywhere. Scholars of the Tübingen Stift began to stop wearing them for the first time in 1750.171 Degree ceremonies for all faculties, lectures, and disputations took place in church, even deanery meetings sat in the sacristy, in many university towns until 1800. Theological supervision was present in the dean of the theology faculty's role as censor. There was little difference here between Germany and Scandinavia. Denmark's Church Order (1539) commanded printing to be approved of by the relevant dean at Copenhagen University. Theological supervision was sharpened in 1683 by Danske Lov. Danish superintendents, the diocesan authority, were to approve theological and religious books before they were sent to the university. This system lasted until 1770. In Sweden, theology was equally influential. An official censor was installed in Stockholm's chancellery in 1686 at the request of the clergy in parliament. His task was to defend Sweden's established faith from ‘novel’ religious opinions, and ‘novel’ philosophical ideas such as Cartesianism. This enhanced, though not without much chest-beating from the other faculties, theology's inquisitorial role, and Uppsala's theology faculty's right since its new statutes (1655) to supervise all dissertations. The censør was supposed to examine all books entering Sweden and Swedish printed books and journals, ensure that colporteurs kept accurate lists of what they sold, and ban any unauthorized books. Like Denmark, religious books had to be approved of by the diocesan authority, the cathedral chapter, before being referred to the censor. This was also a way of easing the censor's work. Swedish censorship lasted until 1766.172

170

Ibid. 15.

171

Ibid. 4.

172

§ 7, ‘Een lärdh och förfahren man må förordnas (til att) vara censor öfver de nyie inkommande böcker, hvilcka til een det deel mycket innehålla, som går twärt emot både wåhr Theologiam och Philosophiam, och är mycket förargeligt, dock (lijkwäl) för noviteten, skal upkiöpas och medh begärligt läsas’ etc., Bygdén and Lewenhaupt (eds.), Benzelstjernas Censorsjournal, x; KLN, s.v. Censur.

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One can overstate theology's coercive power. The enforcement of theological supervision was quite different in practice, because the early modern state was so weak in law enforcement. It lacked the officials and technology of control. The mass of ordinances trying to enforce supervision issued by Charles XII during the Great Northern War were a tacit recognition of failure. Much passed customs surveillance at ports; much was circulated in handwritten form; and much got by in the bales that colporteurs carried. Censors also took learning more seriously than inquisition. The Swedish court librarian, Gustaf Peringer Lillieblad (1651–1710), censor (1695–1710), was a noted orientalist and pioneer of the history of religion, who had visited Oxford and Cambridge (1678), and toured Poland and Lithuania (1690) to understand Anglicanism and Judaism. Johan Upmarck Rosenadler (1661–1743), censor (1716–37), was the first Swede to become Skyttean professor of politics and eloquence (1698), a great orator, and, if he came to blows with Pufendorfians over his defence of Caroline absolute monarchy, was nevertheless a champion of Swedish higher learning. A proper Swedish index thus never appeared before the end of official censorship (1766). Confessional learning and training was also very much less of a system in an ordinand's eyes. Theological training distinguished inevitably between higher and lower clergy. In Lutheran Germany, an élite consisting of the more gifted and those from established clergy families received, on the whole, a long and quite good academic education lasting between five and ten years; the mass of average, not particularly gifted ordinands and those with no family links in the church received a short and very elementary training lasting usually two years. Much depended on who was professor, and the quality of what he taught. There was continuous strife about arbitrary teaching of theology, which consisted mainly of writing down verbatim a professor's interpretation of the Bible, dogmatics known since the Reformation as loci communes, theologia didactica or acroamatica (lectures to be heard in Aristotle's sense by a select audience), the Ten Commandments and the catechism, and some lectures on theological issues of the day. Little ecclesiastical or secular history was taught. In Lutheran Germany, ecclesiastical history was not an examinable subject before 1750, if one excepts Helmstedt whose statutes (1576) provided for it as a teaching subject (this was not formalized until 1650). Perhaps most important of all, contemporaries did not have the high expectations of academic

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training and qualifications that we have today. Training was to be simply sufficient for parish work, though the peculiar structure of many local German universities had produced a headier academic climate by 1700 than was to be found in Scandinavia. In Scandinavia, diocesan secondary education dominated clergy training, since this was still considered a diocesan prerogative. In Sweden-Finland, seven medieval cathedral cities (Uppsala, Skara, Växjö, Lund, Västerås, Linköping, and Åbo) remained focal points for higher education, despite the secular spirit of secondary educational reforms under Gustavus Adolphus, and reform of university education (1640–60) connected with the foundation of Åbo and Lund Universities (1640, 1666), and Uppsala's new statutes (1655). The cathedral school and gymnasium (founded at Västerås in 1623 and Strängnäs in 1626) in the cathedral city, supervised by the cathedral chapter, offered a training in pastoral theology for parish work. This continued in the eighteenth century. The idea of a university training, or link between primary school, cathedral school, gymnasium, and university, had only taken hold after 1650. New university courses began at this time: ecclesiastical history as a teaching subject (1650; shortly behind diocesan grammar schools); casual theology (1660); and moral theology (1680). Important, however, for Swedish clergy training was a strong pastoral emphasis fostered by the close link between diocese and university. This was visible in the introduction of obligatory university collegia concionatoria (c. 1660), or courses on how to preach.173 Denmark's Church Order (1539) provided for a similar relationship between diocese and university, although the Danish clergy's university training was more similar to the German model. A close relationship existed between diocesan grammar schools and Copenhagen, in so far as its theology faculty was obliged to produce clergy and teachers for parish and school work. But Denmark's clergy training was also similar to that of Sweden in its emphasis on pastoral theology. Niels Hemmingsen's (1513–1600) pastoral theology, Pastor sive pastoris vivendi agendique modus (1562) led the way in the early eighteenth century. Sana doctrina and honesta vita consisting of a devout life of prayer, reading a Latin Bible, and knowing one's catechism, were guiding principles for a parish clergyman and his family. However, study at university was insisted on earlier in Denmark than in Sweden. In 1569, all clergy were

173

Askmark, Svensk prästutbildning, chs. 1 and 2.

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obliged to study at Copenhagen before ordination, and in 1629 following new university statutes (1621) a final university examination was made obligatory.174 But like most things early modern, university training and examination were not particularly rigorous. A keynote of the century between 1629 and Copenhagen University's new statutes (1732), was the continuous attempt by successive Danish kings and their senior clergy to ensure that ordinands were academically good enough for work in the parish. Academic quality was not helped by a final examination at the end of, at most, three years' training, which consisted of memorizing what had been taught, rather than being an exercise in analysis and judgement, and, if one reads the relevant German and Scandinavian university histories, a generation of clergy which was often too poor to last the course of study, or tired easily of dull dictated lectures on Christian doctrine in the lecture hall. Denmark's most important eighteenth-century hymn-writer, the Pietist Hans Adolph Brorson (1694–1764), out of sheer boredom, broke his course of study at Copenhagen several times. It took him nine years to take his degree between leaving Ribe cathedral school in 1712, and passing his final examination at Copenhagen in 1721. If one looks at what was learnt, and the textbooks which were used by clergy in their parishes, there was less of scholasticism's system and controversy, and more of Luther's pre-contractual patriarchal social order of three estates; of Luther's Oratio, Meditatio, and Tentatio (Preface to the 1539 Wittenberg edition), and handy devotional books of the kind already mentioned. It is too convenient to see system in the contents of average Lutheran theology courses, which tried, however misguidedly, before the Enlightenment and after the Seven Years' War, to continue Luther's teaching by admitting philosophical ontology (metaphysics) as a way of countering Jesuit and Cartesian learning. This meant, in contrast to Melanchthon who had called for doctrinal training based solely on logic and dialectic, that ordinands should know the essence of res fidei, in order to uphold Lutheran scriptural authority, and Lutheran soteriology in such questioning times.175 Beyond this, even during the fundamental mid-seventeenth century debate which had arisen out of the attempt by Georg Calixtus (1586–1656), known as ‘syncretism’, to unite the Reformation churches with each other and with the Catholic

174

Kobenhavns universitet, v. 152–3 passim.

175

Ratschow, i. 35, 106; ii. 32.

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church (using the Apostles' Creed and the example of the Early Church), there was little that was certain (notably articles of faith) in Lutheran theology. It is therefore hardly surprising in Lutheran Germany and Scandinavia, that the customary and pastoral, rather than controversial doctrine, was popular amongst average ordinands in 1700. This stood in sharp relief to a much more elaborate theological defence of divine right of this time. Particularly popular were Tübingen's pastoral theology contained in Matthias Haffenreffer's (1561–1619) Loci theologici seu compendium theologiae (1600); Wittenberg's pastoral theology, an ‘eminently practical science’ as Gerhard (the popular devotional author of the Meditationes sacrae) called it, in his nine-volume Loci theoligici (1610–22); Leonhard Hutter's (1563–1616) doctrinal defence of the Lutheran faith, the Compendium locorum theologicorum (1610); their pupil Johann Andreas Quenstedt's (1617–88) pastoral theology contained in Theologia didactico-polemica sive Systema theologicum (1685) and Ethica pastorum (1678); and the very dry, but succinct summary of Lutheran university theology by the Rostock theologian, Johann Friedrich König (1619–64), Theologia positiva acroamatica (1664). A marked pastoral emphasis given to theology in Sweden and Denmark was also visible in the popularity of Rostock pastoral and devotional theology taught by Heinrich Müller and Theophil Groβgebauer (1621–61).176 But Sweden and Denmark also produced their own writers in this tradition: the Swede, Olaus Laurelius (1585–1670), in particular his Syntagma theologicum (1641), and Danes such as Hemmingsen and Jesper Brochmand (1585–1652). Hemmingsen's pastoral theology, and Brochmand's Universae theologiae systema (1633) were especially popular for their scriptural, pastoral, and ethical emphasis. These large, unwieldy folio or quarto compendia, often in two or more volumes, were usually excerpted, often in handwritten form, and abridged. They were also frequently reprinted: notably Haffenreffer as an official university textbook in Sweden as late as 1686. The inventories of vicarage libraries which we know of, show, on the whole, a Lutheran pastoral theology consisting of Lutheran Bibles and postils, the literature of prayer noted already, and editions of these doctrinal compendia. There seems to have been little modern secular literature, and also little of the new learning associated with either Descartes, or the new natural law of Pufendorf

176

Ratschow, i. 35, 106; ii. 32.

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and Locke before 1750. ‘Novelty’, which authorities were so worried about in the ‘old-Lutheran’ period c.1560–1720, seems to have hardly graced an average parish clergyman's library shelf.

IV. Background Quality of clergy recruitment was dependent on the level of local culture. This produced variation which makes it almost impossible to generalize. On the whole, clergy families, better-off peasant farmers, the crafts, and a few civilservant families continued to supply Lutheran clergy recruits after 1700. German and Scandinavian lower and higher Lutheran clergy were of extremely modest social background. This became visible in preferment and provision for old age. In most parishes it became routine for a cleric to marry the daughter or widow of his predecessor, and, once in office, to stay as long as possible. Those who did not, swelled a very large number of almost perpetual curates in town and country. On the other hand, Lutheran parish clergy were an old-established social group distinguished by their learning. Presbyteriologies, or clergy family genealogies, showed almost unbroken family continuity since the Reformation.177 Parish clergy were the recorders and guardians of the Reformation as officials who kept urban and rural parish registers (from 1645–50), vicarage chronicles (Hausbuch) which recorded family events, and parish chronicles. In these, they wrote down detail on their own family, what was known of predecessors listed as a series pastorum and the parish since the Reformation, if war, epidemics or other calamities did not intervene. This was also recorded subsequently in visitation protocols. Like the local gentry, they had, despite the enormous gap in wealth, a strong sense of roots in the country as incumbents of vicarages with glebe, as urban clergy families, and as recorders of local history and culture. Status conferred by an established clergy family was more important amongst higher and lower clergy than the modern occupational status of the father. Löscher's family showed an unbroken line of rural pastors since Jodokus Löscher became vicar of Werdau (1552) in the Saxon Vogtland: twenty-three theologians in all. Another obvious case was the family of the writer and poet, Matthias Claudius (1740–1832). He was the offspring of a

177

Themel, ‘Presbyteriologie und Genealogie’, Der Herold, Neue Folge 5/6 (1963–8), 57–85.

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clergy family established by the Frisian, Paul Claussen, at Emmerlev (1598) in the Danish diocese of Ribe (Claussen had changed his name in accordance with Frisian custom to Claudius Pauli). All five of his sons became parish clergy. The third son (b. 1601), ordained (1623), vicar of Süder-Lugum near Tondern, produced three generations of clergy in office until 1720, when two sons (both clergymen) finally moved from the area. The younger of these two sons, Matthias (1703–73), was father of the poet by a second marriage. Matthias Claudius, writing at the end of the eighteenth century, remained very conscious of his clergy family's Reformation roots, and the way his local, flat, Holstein horizon moulded character and existence. The vicarage farm (usually considered the property of the parson) was run as a family business in an age when cash-flow was unheard of, and any sale was difficult. Continuity was also approved of by the local parish congregation. It was therefore essential that a clergy son carry on; if this was impossible, the task fell to daughter or widow.178 Pariset gave 98 per cent Lutheran Brandenburg-Prussian clergy of rural commoner origin (2% were poor gentry sons without means; Reformed clergy tended to be urban, and more upper-class and noble) in Frederick William I's reign (1713–40). The largest percentage (48%) remained unknown, since these were peasants or artisans unworthy of mention in the sources. It was clear that a career in the Lutheran church of a state where clergy were ranked below state officials was not considered seemly by upper class or nobility. Local Lutheran clergy families (80%) supplied over a third of Lutheran parish clergy (32%; Reformed 24.4%; Calvinist 16.2%).179 If Lutheran clergy had a strong sense of kith and kin, most were extremely poor (farming the glebe was an essential secondary occupation), and most were poorly trained for pastoral work east of Brandenburg using the dialect of Cassub, Polish, or Lithuanian parishioners. In this sense, Lutheran parish clergy lived a more isolated social existence than their Reformed or Calvinist urban colleagues. The same pattern was true of neighbouring Pomerania in the parts ruled by both Brandenburg-Prussia and Sweden. Lutheran

178

Stammler, Matthias Claudius, 1 passim ; Herbst, Matthias Claudius, 10 passim ; character differences also formed or suppressed by home environment: ‘Wiege und Amme und Fiebel und Wohnung und Sprache und Schlafmütze und Religion und Gelehrsamkeit’, Asmus, ed. Redlich (1907 edn.), i. 29.

179

Pariset, L'État et les Églises, 252 passim, 301–4; Fulbrook, Piety and Politics, 86.

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clergy families controlled the new intake via vicarage farms run as family businesses, though many (as in BrandenburgPrussia) were too poor to give clergy families a fair standard of living. An elaborate system of ‘conservation’ was in place.180 Registers recorded incumbents in their eighties remaining in office. Widespread too, as everywhere else in the Baltic region, was the practice of ordinands working as private tutors to local gentry, since the latter's patronage and connections helped them to get livings. This reinforced the local and conservative. On the other hand, many failed. There were many perpetual curates. Poverty amongst clergy was widespread. Many incumbents also lacked ability as farmers, and suffered like the peasantry in an economy dependent on produce in kind and the weather. Better-off clergy could be found only on the island of Rügen, where clergy privileges and stipends had not been changed at the Reformation, and in Pomeranian towns where circumstances were mildly better. In Württemberg, things were different in a state lacking an indigenous aristocracy.181 Social division broadly speaking was defined by peasantry and Kleinbürgertum on one side, and the Ehrbarkeit on the other. Since the Tübingen constitutional treaty (1514), local clergy were considered members of the Ehrbarkeit; to this they added a growing sense (after c.1550) of being a learned élite (Intelligenz). They defined their rank too by speaking Honoratioren-schwäbisch as did the civil service. Clergy families with a strong sense of family solidarity supplied most ordinands in the eighteenth century (36%, higher clergy families 8%); minor official families (Schreiber) next (17.4%).182 In contrast to northern Germany and Scandinavia, given Württemberg's mixed small-scale economy, very few parish clergy (0.2%) were recruited from peasantry; crafts delivered 9.9 per cent. On the other hand, the local horizon mind-set, to the despair of a reformer like Pfaff, was similar. Württemberg's established church was run by its own cohorts (Landeskinder). Local recruitment was reinforced by a training consisting of an annual examination (Landesexamen) in Stuttgart where boys competed for places in ubiquitous Klosterschulen (grammar

180

Heyden, Kirchengeschichte Rommerns, 144 passim ; see: T. Woltersdorf, ‘Die Konservierung der Pfarr-Wittwen und -Töchter bei den Pfarren und die durch Heirat bedingte Berufung zum Predigtamte in Neuvorpommern und Rügen’ ZfK 13 (1903), 1–54, 182–209.

181

Hasselhorn, Altwürttembergische Pfarrstand, 24 passim ; Fulbrook, Piety and Politics, 78–81.

182

Hasselhorn, 30.

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schools) which prepared the way for study at Tübingen University. Connections and nepotism were omnipresent, but so was the idea of merit in these schools in which pupils were ranked by ability (Lokationen). The system supplied, as in Scandinavia, a surplus after 1750: many Tübingen graduates could not find employment commensurate with training, and were thus forced to wander elsewhere. In Sweden-Finland a fairly accurate overview has been built up by the research of Carlsson and Suohlahti using diocesan Herdaminnen (biographical collections which contain data and brief lives of all diocesan clergymen, beneficed and unbeneficed). Modest social background prevailed there too. In Sweden (1680–1740), recruitment from clergy families increased (40–45%). Wives also tended to be daughters of clergymen (in 1740 approx. 60%).183 Conservation was as important as over the water in Pomerania. However, peasant farmers were interested in marrying sons to daughters of clergymen in order to improve their own social position. They supplied a further 30% per cent. Casteconsciousness and family solidarity was strong in a parishscape shaped by Swedish dioceses which liked to employ their own ordinands. Theology, successive clergy privileges (especially those of 1723, and 1725 which reinforced diocesan self-recruitment), and membership of parliament as the second estate of the realm, also strengthened (as with Württemberg) the idea of leadership as public service. On the other hand, Swedish-Finnish clergy possessed a markedly independent spirit, given diocesan tradition and authority. Senior clergy (bishops and senior clergy in parliament) were usually sons of established clergy families: (67%; only 8% from peasant farmers) between 1700 and parliamentary reform in 1865/6.184 However, after 1750, a division between beneficed and unbeneficed clergy became apparent in rising numbers of Kapellaner. In Finland, recruitment had much to do with the cultural level of its provinces. Most recruitment came from the better situated and educated peasant farms run as family businesses on the eastern Bothnian coast, and in south-western Finland. Such

183

Herdaminnen (see Ch. 1). Diocesan self-recruitment sharpened: Clergy Privileges, 16 Oct. 1725 § 21: ‘Ej heller må någon i det ena stiftet tränga de därsammastädes ordinerede präster, i högre eller mindre grad, inpå ett annat stift, där de varken äro födde eller ordinerede, utan till bättre skilsmissa och riktighet skola stiftets barn hälst och framför andra, var efter lärdom, merit och leverne, bliva försörjda’, Suohlahti, Finlands prästersakap, 36. Carlsson, Ståndssamhälle, 199–201 passim. ‘Even in the 1720s, about 55% of all students became clergymen, whereas around 20% entered the civil administration’, ‘Dissolution of the Swedish Estates’, JEEH 1 (1972), 606.

184

Carlsson, Ståndssamhälle, 201.

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families were able to send sons to grammar (Latin) or cathedral schools in a town such as Åbo, or Viborg. Some of the clergy were also recruited from minor officials (Skriver) as in Württemberg. Local horizons dominated. Few families moved far from their birthplace. It was common for two to three generations of one clergy family to reside in a parish, and to marry into clergy families of neighbouring parishes. Vicarages were run as businesses and an inheritance. Dioceses, as on the Swedish mainland, tended to employ their own residents. Suohlahti compared the diocesan boundary to a Chinese wall running through Tavastland and Nyland. This reinforced in the eighteenth century a contrast between a more civilized south-west and a poor east (Karelia) division of Finnish parishes.185 Estonia and Livonia were an interesting mix of Swedish and German recruitment patterns. The seventeenth century had seen fairly extensive settlement of German and Swedish clergy families, whose status had been improved by successive privileges secured under Gustavus Adolphus, Charles XI, and Charles XII. Sweden's Church Law brought with it Swedish privileged social status as an ‘estate of the realm’ secured in 1675, though Estonian and Livonian clergy did not sit in parliament like their Swedish-Finnish colleagues.186 Circumstance was equally influential on recruitment in the eighteenth century. The calamities, famine, epidemic illness, plague, and war (1690–1721) decimated the clergy in town and country. The period after 1720 was therefore one which saw an almost entirely new, mostly German parish clergy settle. In Livonia, clergy of German origin amounted to 50–60 per cent. North German, Saxon, and Thuringian families (Stavenhagen, Lenz, Paucker, Körber, Hoerschelmann, Fuchs, Schilling, Katterfeld) predominated. As was the case in Pomerania, but more pronouncedly so, they gained access through preferment as house tutors to the barons. By 1790, this form of mobility via tutorships had produced a distinct social caste in Livonia, Estonia, and Courland known as Literati.187 In general, preferment and a sense of caste followed the

185

Chinese wall: Suohlahti, Finlands Prästerskap, 36; mobility; ch. 7, 347 passim ; vicarage farming for profit; 393 passim.

186

Lenz, ‘Verfassungs- und Sozialgeschichte der Kirche’, Wittram (ed.) Baltische Kirchengeschichte, 114–17; Stählin, ‘Verfassung der Livländischen Landeskirche’, ZSSRGkA 52 (1932), 333.

187

Lenz, Baltische Literatenstand, 4–5, 7–8, 11–12; Clara Redlich, “ ‘Literaten” in Riga und Reval im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert’, J. von Hehn and C. J. Kenez (eds.), Festschrift für Hellmuth Weiss, (Marburg an der Lahn, 1980), 307–11.

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pattern of German Baltic provinces like Pomerania or Sweden: most tried to marry daughters and widows of parish clergy, or followed their father's footsteps. Vicarage farms (comparable to a medium Rittergut) were run as family businesses. In the towns of Reval, Riga, Dorpat, and Narva, most progressed from school-teaching by marrying daughters of the magistracy. Most of these ordinands were trained in neighbouring Königsberg, by Saxon Wittenberg and Leipzig, and, especially, by Pietist Halle and like-minded Buddeus at Jena. This new generation was thus a generation which saw itself as reformer of piety and manners in equal measure. Its mission also benefited from the tradition of Swedish clergy privilege and church law which conferred status in provinces where patronage of German barons (Ritterschaft) began to regain strength again after the Great Northern War. In Denmark, a sense of caste amongst the clergy followed from the official order of rank Rangordning (1660). It divided Danish society into those with whom one reckoned publicly, and those with whom one did not. Parish clergy had the luck to be included amongst the socially advantaged in clergy privileges (1661, 1667, and 1670), though ongoing rows like that over the status of Copenhagen theologians—whether as farmers of university glebe employing a servile tenantry they were comparable in status to gentry—suggested (the royal reply was negative) that clergy (as in Brandenburg-Prussia) were in reality middling public servants in royal eyes. Danish absolute kings needed officials. However, these privileges and their status as public servants gave Danish parish clergy reasonably secure stipends and distinction in rank.188 Danske Lov also made a clear distinction between a self-recruited parish clergy (44%), and a service-class of ‘deacons’ (Degn: 53% recruited from the peasantry). This produced a large social gap after 1700 between a parish clergy distinguished legally by fornemhed, and deacons schooled officially since the Reformation in Latin (peasant reality was rather different!), chanting the Office, and teaching the catechism, who drew stipends often worth less than half as much.189 Eighteenth-century Danish parish clergy thus saw themselves, as did their neighbouring north German and Swedish clergy, as an old

188

Hansen, Præsten paa landet, 222–3, 236.

189

Ibid. 207–13; Hansen, Degnen, 20–1, 32, 164–79. Danske Lov (1683) 2.15.6 defined deacons as servants of parish clergy: ‘De skulle vëre deris Sognepræster hørige og lydige, i hvis de dennem pass deris Embedis vegne befale.’

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privileged estate preserving for the next generation an inherited status (42% of clergy wives were from clergy homes) stretching back to the Reformation. As guardians of the vicarage family home, and as educated leaders of the parish, Danish parish clergy were set apart from their parishioners in status and attitudes.

7 Cura Animarum Specialis: The Pastoral Ofce I. The Practice of Piety The continuance of crisis, and a sharp rise of population in some large city parishes augmented by immigration (c. 1670–1700), notably in Berlin, Halle, Hamburg, Dresden, Leipzig, and Frankfurt am Main, forced rural and urban Lutheran parish clergy to rethink the nature of their office. They put less emphasis on an authoritative Lutheran teaching office (Lehramt) admonishing from the pulpit the ignorant and wayward, and the use of the confessional before parish communion, and moved towards the pastoral parish of the Reformed church (British and Dutch, also that of Strasburg). This meant spending more time with parishioners giving individual spiritual advice and comfort using the catechism and prayer book, and consoling the sick and dying in the home. The Latin phrase cura animarum specialis, particularis, individualis became common at much the same time as the German synonym Erbauung for British and Dutch Pietas.190 This rethinking took place in a political environment of state-building, and a growing public law. In practice, the Reformation ‘church-state’ began to divide competences and procedures, though its interconnection survived as statute into the middle of the nineteenth century. Punishment imposed by church courts (consistories), and public religious atonement (in stocks placed outside the church door, or on the Stool of Penitence in church) began to lose their authority. Penance, meaning both excommunication of the sinner by the home parish, and a subsequent need for his reconciliation with the home congregation in the parish church, was changed by a secular punishment served in prison. In 1700, a question

190

‘Taught you publickly, and from house to house’, Acts 20: 20; Spener, Theologische Bedenken, (1700) i. 642, (1702) iii. 5 passim ; Hartmann, Pastorale evangelicum (1678), 630; Hardeland, Geschichte der speciellen Seelsorge, 2; cites 2 Cor. 11: 28 in his preface.

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often asked was whether a sinner could be punished twice, though it was already common practice for church discipline to complete a process which had begun in a law court. The new liturgy (1709) issued by Duke Anton Ulrich of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel (1685–1714), ordered punishment imposed by church courts to be fulfilled in prison alone. Senior clergy and like-minded conservative jurists who still vigorously upheld punishment imposed by church courts, began to realize that it was becoming increasingly difficult to defend with penal discipline the integrity of an established Lutheran church. Parishes which still used the system were obviously no better than parishes which did not. Improved individual pastoral care was a better way of dealing with parish morals and spiritual health. Sitting in a confessional in church simply to ease consciences before parish communion served nobody.191 The cure of souls (cura animarum, Seelsorge) had become an issue. Did Lutheran concern for salvation (Seelsorge) also include the welfare (Fürsorge) of parishioners? Could there be mutual edification between a parish clergyman and his flock? These were difficult questions to answer. Luther had left no clear ruling. After 1525, when religious enthusiasm was spreading, it seemed that Luther had moved away from the general priesthood to an emphasis on vocatio as a way of stressing a clergyman's authority. Cura animarum generalis, meaning preaching, and administering the Lutheran sacraments of baptism and communion in church became accepted practice in Lutheran sixteenth-century church orders. Private confession and absolution before parish communion was seen as an essential rite for acceptance in the parish, and citizenship. This development brought with it in the seventeenth century a noticeable danger of lip-service Christianity. Heinrich Müller used the metaphor of the four dumb idols consisting of font, pulpit, confessional, and altar as a system which restricted, especially in populous cities, a citizen's contact with the parish clergyman, and emphasized soulless passive churchmanship.192

191

‘Pauci restaurationem [church discipline] cupiunt, sed modum ignorant, pauci sane modum vident, sed de successu desperant’, Hartmann, Pastorale evangelicum, 835; Spener, Theologische Bedenken, i. 696; Hardeland, 349 passim.

192

‘Viel Beichtens, wenig Besserung’; font, pulpit, confessional, altar: Müller, Geistliche Erquickstunden, cited Hardeland, 346.

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II. Anglican, Puritan, and Dutch Reformed Inuence Lutheran senior and lower clergy were also aware of how Osnabrück had enhanced local and dispersed Protestant churches at the expense of a common Reformation. Philipp Jakob Spener, the parish clergyman who established Pietism as a Lutheran religious tendency amongst clergy and parishioners, was particularly worried about the danger inherent in binding states more closely with Reformation churches at a time when rulers were expanding their authority and asking for passive obedience. A sense of common Reformation standards in doctrine, rites, and pastoral care was bound to decline in a new environment of absolutist enclosure whose outcome would be to hinder knowledge of what was going on beyond local borders. In Theologische Bedenken, Spener argued that the Anglican church of the Restoration (1660) might perhaps be in an easier position to sound the ground of Protestant unity than her sister churches in Protestant nations, Lutheran Denmark and Sweden. Bitter controversies defending untainted Lutheran doctrine amongst university theologians in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia had shown how far local rulers had already imposed their will on their common Reformation. The university had become a local university (Landesuniversität) for training a blinkered Lutheran clergy and state officialdom unaware of the need for common cause with their sister Reformed church. Moreover, the increasingly vernacular culture of modern states was erasing the common Latin culture of the Christian church. This, too, was a blow to the only bond left amongst Protestant clergy: a shared Latin education at a university.193 Spener was not alone; his was an opinion which the Hanoverian clergyman, Heinrich Ludolf Bentheim (1661–1723), also ventilated in the preface to a popular book he published (1694) on the Anglican church. A common Protestant practice of piety was served better by the national Anglican church of the Restoration than by many Lutheran German electorates and principalities, and their clergy who argued in Latin for narrow doctrinal uniformity. These arguments were symptomatic of a widespread interest in a sister Protestant church amongst many German and Scandinavian. Lutheran clergy, despite restrictions on travel and censorship.194 Study trips, either as students, or as tutors accompanying noblemen,

193

Spener, Theologische Bedenken (1702) iv. 496 passim ; Grünberg, Spener, i. 386–7.

194

Bentheim, Neu-eröffneter Engelandischer Kirch- und Schulen-Staat (1694), 2nd rev. edn. (Leipzig, 1732); see Ch. 5.

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were another conduit, as were devotional books, for British and Dutch religious influence. Lutheran ordinands and clergy travelled to learn initially the languages associated with the Bible at the seats of modern scholarship, Oxford and Cambridge, given the parlous state of higher learning at home after 1648. They returned, however, with new ideas about how Presbyterian, Anglican, and Dutch Reformed pastoral care might give their office at home new meaning. Most came to learn the latest research from Oxford orientalists such as Edward Pococke and Edward Bernard, or from the Hebraist, John Lightfoot, and the orientalist, Edmund Castell, at Cambridge. Between 1673 and 1700, 153 Danes signed the Bodleian admissions book.195 Every Swedish archbishop between 1670 and 1740, with one exception, had visited and worked in Oxford and Cambridge. The same was true of Danish senior clergy such as Hans Bagger (1646–93), bishop of Sjælland (1675–93), who modelled much of his Danish Rite (1685) and his Altar-Book (1688) on the Anglican Book of Common Prayer; and Germans such as the Hanoverian, Bentheim, whose writing benefited after 1714 from the Hanoverian connection; or the Württemberger, Pfaff, who used his visits to Oxford and Cambridge similarly to popularize Anglican ecclesiastical history, the Anglican rite, and Anglican pastoral care at Tübingen after 1720.196 Their popularization laid the groundwork for post-war reformers such as Mosheim, and Christian Wilhelm Walch (1726–84), Johann Georg Walch's son, who continued Mosheim's introduction of Anglican homiletics and ecclesiastical history as models of modern Protestant scholarship and pastoral care to ordinands at the new university of Göttingen. Notable examples of this new bridge between Anglican and Lutheran were two brilliant German and Swedish oriental and Slavic scholars who used Oxford learning in the biblical languages to shape the new Bible Pietism of Halle, Copenhagen, and Stockholm. Heinrich Wilhelm Ludolf (1655–1712), nephew of the linguist, Hiob Ludolf (1624–1704), the pioneer of Ethiopic grammar, became, like his uncle in whose Frankfurt home he grew up, a close friend of Spener and Francke. Piety and scholarship led him to

195

E Jørgensen, ‘Danske adelige Biblioteker i det 17. Aarhundrede med særligt Henblik paa den teologisk Literatur’, Teologisk Tidsskrift for den danske Folkekirke, 3rd ser., 8 (1917), 248.

196

Rydberg, Svenska studier-resor, 53, 410; Jacobowsky, ‘Svenska studenter i Oxford ca. 1620–1740’, Personhistorisk Tidskrift (1927), 105–33; Pfaff: Stolzenburg, Theologie des J. F. Buddeus und C. M. Pfaff, 275 passim.

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London, where he became secretary (1686–91) to the Danish prince, George, consort of Queen Anne, and an influential member of the SPCK, and to Oxford where he developed his understanding of the biblical languages. His subsequent Russian visit (1692–4) via Copenhagen and troubled Livonia, convinced him that Russia was a rich field of work for Protestant pastors trained in Russian. For this reason, he ensured that Oxford University Press received the latest Cyrillic fonts from the Netherlands a year later in 1695, and in 1696 had the first colloquial Russian grammar published by the Press.197 To this, Ludolf linked Lutheran Pietist mission that he felt necessary in a diaspora which was being successfully infiltrated by Jesuit mission. On a journey in the winter of 1697–8 to Constantinople, where he hoped to sound out the possibility of a union between western Protestantism and eastern Orthodoxy, he stopped over in Halle to convince Francke of the need for a Russian mission, and for the establishment of a Collegium orientale theologicum (founded in 1702) in which ordinands could study Russian, Slavic languages, and Arabic. He had already persuaded a Russian printer and translator in Copenhagen, a certain Kopiewicz, to transfer his Cyrillic printing press wholesale to Halle. Shortly after, in the winter of 1703–4, Ludolf also became a founding member of the first upperclass conventicle in Copenhagen. Ludolf's energetic pious scholarship thus linked Anglican with Hallesian and Scandinavian, and prompted the introduction of Hallesian mission, during and after the Great Northern War, to Livonia and Russia.198 The other pioneer was Johann Gabriel Sparwenfeld (1655–1727), a warm friend of both Ludolfs (Ludolf junior visited Sparwenfeld in Stockholm on his return from Russia in 1694) and of Leibnitz with whom he corresponded in the origins of language; he eventually became master of ceremonies at Stockholm's court. Sparwenfeld had visited Bernard in Oxford (1682), and had discussed with him Russian language scholarship before his Russian visit (1684–7). He also took a keen interest in Anglican worship and Anglican and Presbyterian prayer, translating (much remained in manuscript)

197

Neiiendam, ‘Heinrich Wilhelm Ludolff: De engelske Societies og Danmark’, Teologisk Tidsskrift for den danske Folkekirke, 4th ser., 10 (1929), 97–134; J. S. G. Simmons, ‘H. W. Ludolf and the Printing of his Grammatica Russica in Oxford in 1696’, Oxford Slavonic Papers, 1 (1950), 104–29; škyj, ‘Kreis A. H. Franckes’, Zeitschrift für slavische Philologie, 16 (1939), 16–17, 23–7.

198

Neiiendam, 120 passim ; Lindhardt, ‘Ludolff, SPCK og Trankebarmissionen’, DTT 3 (1940), 1–40.

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amongst other writings: Francis Quarles, Enchiridion (1640), William Penn, Some Fruits of Solitude (1693), and John Wilkins, A Discourse concerning the Gift of Prayer (1651). Of these, Quarles alone was printed in 1696. Sparwenfeld was influential as was Ludolf, because he transmitted this interest to the next generation, notably to Eric Benzelius junior (1675–1745), who trained on his recommendation with Hiob Ludolf at Frankfurt, and visited Oxford (1699–1700). Benzelius, one of the foremost patrons of Swedish letters, in turn broadened this scholastic interest in the biblical languages to learning from the pastoral practice of Anglican clergy like Archbishops John Potter and Thomas Tenison.199 In general, Sparwenfeld was responsible for making Swedish Lutheran clergy aware, in a climate of official censorship, of the need to value and learn from the rites and pastoral practice of other Christian churches. His pioneering work on the Russian language was thus of the same kind in terms of influence as Ludolf's grammar. As Sparwenfeld noted later in the flyleaf of his Russian folio Bible, ‘Godliness is useful for everything.’200 This scholarship excited even the more orthodox at home. As superintendent of Narva (1700–1), and general superintendent of Estonia (1701–6), the Swede, Nicolaus Bergius (1646–1706), who had also visited Oxford (1683), used his good friend, Sparwenfeld, to promote an interest amongst his Estonian diocesan clergy in the Russian Orthodox Church. In the first Swedish attempt to understand the Russian Orthodox rite, the Exercitatio Theologica de statu Ecclesiae et religionis Moscovitae, published at Stockholm (1704), Bergius thus praised fulsomely Sparwenfeld's pioneering work on Russian grammar, and thanked him for his advice and use of his handy library. Bergius also patronized the printing press of Johann Köhler in Narva, both to print Lutheran devotional literature in Russian——he published in 1701 Luther's Little Catechism with parallel Russian and Swedish texts there——and to provide grammars and textbooks for the use of his clergy.201 Köhler (see below) was to

199

A. Jensen, ‘Die Anfänge der schwedischen Slavistik’, Archiv für slavische Philologie, 33 (1912), 136–65; Jacobowsky, Sparwenfeld, Bidrag till en Biografi (1932), and ‘Svenska studenter’, 127–8.

200

‘Gudfruchtigheet är nyttigh till alt’, cited Jacobowsky, Sparwenfeld, 330.

201

Ibid. 77, 275–6; Jensen, ‘Anfänge der schwedischen Slavistik’, 151–2, 164–5; Bergius, Luthers lilla Catechismus, på Svenska och Ryska (Narva, 1701), and Freundliches Ansinnen an die Herren Liebhaber der Russischen Sprache, Historien und Bücher, davon Nachricht zu ertheilen (Narva, 1702); Exercitatio, 2nd edn. (Lübeck, 1709), 2 vols.

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make a name for himself during the war at Reval translating Franckean devotional and homiletic literature. An interest in the biblical languages thus led German and Scandinavian clergy to debate the nature of preaching and devotion, the rite of public worship, and methods of pastoral care which had evolved in the Anglican church of the Restoration and Revolution Settlement, and to an involvement in church politics. A linkage throughout the century (c.1660–1760) was the Anglican and Presbyterian style of preaching (Ch. 9). Senior Danish clergy, faced with the problem of how to keep their congregations awake physically and spiritually and how best to prepare them for prayer, took to heart the thematic, analytic, and applied (in the sense of moralizing) preaching of the great seventeenth-century Anglicans, Lancelot Andrewes, Isaac Barrow, Edward Stillingfleet, and John Tillotson, or the simpler, more direct diction and prose of clergy of Puritan sympathy such as Richard Baxter or William Beveridge, which they had encountered on the English visits. The ‘Anglican style’ became a fashion amongst senior urban clergy when Bagger was bishop of Sjælland. Copenhagen's city churches were noted for sermons being given in this style. Two of the most popular preachers who continued this new tradition into the eighteenth century were Hans Enevoldsen Brochmand (1649–60) and his successor, Denmark's ‘most priceless preacher’, Mikkel Henriksen Tisdorph (1660–1701) at St Nicholas.202 Sweden, more distant geographically and culturally, had its practitioners also. Spegel was the most important. In addition to his magnificent library of seventeenth-century English devotional books, Spegel possessed the collected sermons of Lancelot Andrewes, and Restoration preachers such as William Lloyd, John Wilkins, Thomas Pierce, Richard Allestree, Gilbert Burnet, and Isaac Barrow, and the sermons of a line of Puritan preachers such as Thomas Adams, Richard Baxter, Robert Bolton, Thomas Hall, Nathaniel Hardy, Richard Holdsworth, Thomas Horton, Thomas Manton, John Preston, Richard Sibbes, and Thomas Watson. Spegel used their prose, especially that of Lancelot Andrewes, to practise his own pulpit oratory; he took to heart Anglican spiritual emphasis on the prayer, eucharistic practice, and preaching of the Early Church;

202

Rørdam, ‘Om kjendskabet til engelsk theologisk litteratur’, KhS (1903–5); J. Oskar Andersen, ‘Dansk syn på fromhed’, pp. liv–lviii.

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and he valued the biblical exposition and morally responsible lay Christianity of men such as Baxter and Sibbes. Although only a handful of Swedish senior clergy followed his footsteps——Spegel was the first senior clergyman who possessed a proper command of English——Anglican pulpit oratory coupled with its pastoral ethics exercised a subtle if not always obvious influence on eighteenth-century Swedish preaching in much the same way as it was to do in Germany via homiletic reformers such as Mosheim.203 The Anglican rite was also noted and commented upon, even if loyalty to one's home church stood in the way of any meaningful dialogue about Protestant unity. In Sweden, Spegel was the first amongst several senior clergy who realized the necessity of comparing rite with rite. It was therefore no coincidence that senior clergy who had visited Oxford and Cambridge, Johan Gezelius junior (1647–1718), Jacob Lang (1648–1716), Nicolaus Bergius, and Ingemund Bröms (1669–1722), became involved in the enforcement of Swedish church order and ceremony contained in Sweden's Church Law and service-book in Finland, Ingria, Estonia, and Livonia. Bröms, especially, used his experience of Anglican worship at Oxford to write up (1704) the differences between the Swedish and Anglican rites, though his manuscript was never published.204 Another visitor was Svedberg, one of the leading figures in the royal commissions of clergy which revised the Swedish hymn-book and Bible in the 1690s. From 1712, he was a corresponding member of the SPG, patron of Swedish settlers in North America, and, from 1725, patron of Sweden's London congregation. Svedberg praised the learning and fine libraries of Oxford and Cambridge which he had visited (1684–5), and, given his concern for improving Swedish diocesan standards of pastoral care, recommended the Anglican practice of Sunday observance, and the Anglican rite of confirmation as models to be copied at home.205 This new interest was carried forward by the chaplain of Sweden's London congregation (1723–33), Jacob Serenius (1700–76), friend of Bishop Edmund Gibson, and publisher of the

203

B. Olsson, ‘Spegel och engelsk predikan’, Kå (1969), 120–42; Hellekant, Engelsk upbyggelseslitteratur, 13 passim, 100; in general: Helander, Spegel (1899).

204

Bröms, Then skilnad, som ahr mellan then Swanska och Engelske Kyrckian antingen uti Dogmaticis eller Ceremoniis, Oxford(t) in Julio 1704, cited Rydberg, Svenska studie-resor, 64.

205

Svedberg, Lefwernesbeskrifning, 70 passim ; Tottie, Svedbergs lif, i. 32; Rydberg, Svenska studie-resor, 55 passim.

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first accurate Anglo-Swedish two-volume dictionary (1734–41). Serenius, in the calmer post-war climate, really tried to see common ground in the rites of both countries in a treatise commissioned by Gibson, Examen harmoniae religionis ecclesiae Lutheranae et Anglicae (1726). He was also responsible for introducing the rite of confirmation to his own diocese, Strängnäs, and he played a key part in discussions about this rite, when confirmation, using chiefly the German Lutheran rite, was introduced (1769) to Sweden.206 In Denmark, the Anglican order of service, especially the rite of ordination, influenced Bishop Bagger when he composed his Rite and Altar-Book. Another Danish clergyman, Erik Pontoppidan (1698–1764), possibly the most influential Pietist theologian and historian in eighteenth-century Denmark, also bishop of Bergen (1748–55) and vicechancellor of Copenhagen University thereafter, who visited Oxford as a noble tutor in 1721 and frequented the services of the university church, St Mary's, liked the involvement of the congregation contained in the Book of Common Prayer, though he disliked sententious and fully worked-out university sermons. Pontoppidan singled out pastoral dialogue between officiating priest and congregation in the Anglican rite, and the moralizing, homiletic, personal Christianity of Low Church clergy such as Bishop Benjamin Hoadly and Baxter as worthy of emulation. Baxter's Gildas Salvianus: the Reformed Pastor (1656), as well as bishop Gilbert Burnet's A Discourse of the Pastoral Care (1692) were used later as models in his own Collegium pastorale practicum (1757).207 These Lutheran clergymen thus showed an open-mindedness which began in the three decades bridging war and peace (1700–30) to respect the rites of a sister church which had been accused hitherto of pernicious Calvinistic tendencies and republicanism. Swedish toleration in 1741 of the Anglican church was a belated recognition of what was tolerated and emulated already by some Swedish clergy. Even in divided Germany, in the Saxon heartland of the Lutheran Reformation, a parish clergyman often bracketed with Pietism, Christian Gottlob Gerber (1660–1731), thought it essential (as did

206

Ibid. 84–5; dictionary: A. Gabrielson, Svenska läroböcker i engelska under 1700—talet (Uppsala, 1916), 101 passim ; Serenius edited John Mortimer, The Whole Art of Husbandry (1707) in 1727 for his diocesan flock.

207

British pastoral models, and Anglican preaching: Pontoppidan, Collegium pastorale practicum, preface, 175, 195, 327, 334; Neiiendam, Pontoppidan, i. 132 passim.

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Pfaff and Mosheim), despite the difficulty he encountered in finding anything serviceable on the Lutheran rite in the bookshops of Dresden and Leipzig, to use as a guide the second edition of the Historia rituum Ecclesiae Anglicanae (1672) by the dean of Windsor and chaplain to Charles II, John Durel (1625–83). Although Gerber in his appropriately German Historie der Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen, published posthumously by his son (1732), warned the reader that the contents only related to Saxon local practice, and though his pioneering account of German Lutheran ritual was coloured by his critical Pietist eye which frowned on ceremony and music in church, Gerber made it quite clear that readers should forget doctrinal squabbles and get down to the serious business of common ‘essentials’ in Protestant public worship and pastoral ethics. The Anglican rite provided a model for future common observance and a common practice of piety, even if allegiance to one's home church had to come first.208 The connection was not lost on other Saxon clergy. Salomon Deyling (1677–1755), senior of St Nicholas in Leipzig from 1720, professor of theology, and superintendent of the Leipzig diocese, Bach's employer, also wrote in this vein one of the first modern Saxon pastoral handbooks, Institutiones prudentiae pastoralis (1734), for the use of diocesan ordinands.209 This growing interest was supplemented, before or after an English visit, by sojourn in the Reformed Netherlands. Presbyterianism and Anglicanism in Scandinavia and Germany were thus invariably tempered by Dutch Reformed churchmanship, Dutch university life, and Dutch printing presses. Pontoppidan, who had visited Holland in 1720 prior to his English visit, wrote later in his Collegium pastorale practicum, of how effectively English spirituality and pastoral ethics (Anglican and Presbyterian) were translated via the medium of a Dutch Reformed urban practice of piety to Halle, and from there to Denmark and Sweden. This was similar to Holberg's modern cultural connection: Oxford–London–Leiden–Utrecht–Halle–Leipzig–Göttingen–Copenhagen–Sorø.210 The Dutch Reformed connection with German Lutheran clergy

208

Gerber, Historie der Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen (1732), preface.

209

Institutiones prudentiae pastoralis ex genuinis fontibus haustae et variis observationibus ac questionum enodationibus illustratae (Leipzig, 1734), 3rd edn. (1768). Deyling was one of the models Pontoppidan used for his Collegium ; Spitta, Bach (English edn.), ii. 227–30, iii. 6 passim.

210

Pontoppidan, Collegium pastorale practicum, 33; Neiiendam, ii. 243.

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was also a particularly close one for the obvious reason that Dutch university life and letters were (as we have seen) popular with Lutheran ordinands in northern and eastern Germany for most of the seventeenth century. The international and tolerant quality of Dutch learning in universities like Utrecht and Leiden opened windows on a practice of piety which could not be seen in a local German university. Bentheim was lavish with praise for the respected and open quality of Dutch learning in his second book on the Dutch Reformed church (1698). He likened, ruefully, the large numbers of German scholars at Dutch universities to the Rhine in flood.211 Lutheran ordinands and clergy experienced in Holland both a relatively free practice of urban Protestant public worship, and spirituality of several religious parties within the Dutch Reformed church which had originated in the theology of Gisbertus Voetius (1589–1676) and Johannes Coccejus (1603–69). Dutch practice of piety in the early eighteenth century consisted of several ways to salvation whose common denominator was a religion of the heart coupled with the practice of a morally responsible Christianity in a parish with no identifiable territorial boundary. This gathered practice of piety in the family home, or in small circles of neighbours, with its emphasis on knowing and using the catechism at home, in church, and in parish, was served by a simple, humane, comforting, and searching style of preaching which avoided political issues. It was this subtle combination of ‘inner Christianity’ consisting of the renunciation of the vices of this world and the experience of a religious awakening with warm congregationalism, which recommended itself to a new post-war generation of German and Scandinavian Lutheran Pietist clergy. A good example of this style was illustrated by Menoza, en asiatisk Prinz, an anonymous collection of letters written by a fictitious Asian prince and Christian convert who had tried to find ‘true Christianity’ in Europe after the wars of the Spanish Succession and the Great Northern War. It was published at Copenhagen (1742–3) by Pontoppidan anonymously (he still feared official censorship) as a way of recommending this Anglo-Dutch gospel to both his fellow Danish clergy and Holberg's new Danish reading public.212

211

Bentheim, Holländischer Kirch- und Schulen-Staat (1698), i. 18, ii. 69.

212

Neiiendam, ii. 128 passim ; J. W. Vinck, ‘Erik Pontoppidan en zijn stichtelijke roman “Menoza” ’, Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 68 (1955), 33–58.

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III. Philipp Jakob Spener (1635–1705) and August Hermann Francke (1663–1727) The Lutheran religious tendency, ‘Pietism’, associated with these two urban clergymen, and also Pietism specific to eighteenth-century Württemberg, is to be understood as part of this clerical interest in a renewed pastoral office. Spener and Francke saw themselves as reformers of established Lutheran local churches in which habit had produced a conventional churchmanship ignorant of the Bible and Christ's teaching. They considered themselves also to be direct heirs to the new Protestant vernacular devotional canon. Both men in their homiletic output, as catechists, and at prayer meetings and house visits, frequently referred to the homespun prayer-books written by fellow parish clergy such as Müller and Scriver. In social terms, Spener and Francke's mission grew as a result of patronage by the smallest courts, the princelings and counts of Kleinstaaterei, and as meetings of spiritually like-minded educated men and women who gathered in homes to read the Bible, pray, and sing hymns together (collegia pietatis) in Spener's and Francke's rapidly growing urban parishes of Frankfurt am Main, Dresden, Berlin, and Glaucha-Halle. A patriarchal and pious world of little courts and family networks of imperial counts and princelings (Reichsadel, Standesherren) patronized eighteenth-century Pietism east and north of the river Main, and its more or less contemporaneous offspring at Herrnhut, Moravianism associated with Zinzendorf (Ch. 11), until decline set in after 1750 (younger sons preferred to see the world) and the loss of authority and land incurred in the years 1803–6.213 Spener would never have been so influential in the eighteenth century had he not gained access to noble families via the patronage of his local Alsatian counts of Rappoltstein, whose archives provided the material for his pioneering modern German genealogy (1660) and heraldry (1668).214 The same happened at Frankfurt, where as Frankfurt's senior (1666–86), Spener established close relations with similar families: those included in the four colleges of imperial counts (Wetterau, Swabia, Franconia, Westphalia), and as the senior court chaplain at Dresden (1686–91) and Berlin (1691–1705). The networking

213

Barthold, Die Erweckten im protestantischen Deutschland ; Erbe, Zinzendorf und der fromme Adel.

214

Barthold, 138–46; bibliography on Spener's genealogy and heraldry: Grünberg, Spener, iii. 262 passim.

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of Pietism was put in place easily by this large extended family of Lutheran Reichsadel linked by frequent intermarriage and remarriage. It was a noble family circle of piety often led by the women: by countesses thirsty for spiritual nourishment in an environment which forced them, while husbands went on diplomatic missions or military service, to run the family and its etiquette in cold and draughty castle rooms, or, given such populous families where few could hope for marriage appropriate to their rank, by countless daughters who had been forced into retreat in secularized abbeys and nunneries. There thus appeared in the space of a couple of decades (c.1700–20), a grid of pious noble families stretching west to east from Frankfurt and its hinterland via an extended family of Thuringian little courts to lands contiguous with Catholic Habsburgs and Poles: the little principalities ranged along southern Saxony's upland frontier, and in Silesia. These latter families were also held firmly together by the need of Lutheran brotherhood against advances made by an aggressive Habsburg Counter-Reformation. Francke at Halle was quick to follow Spener's example. Between 1714 and c.1730, Francke established, by frequent visits and correspondence, a formal network amongst these Saxon and Silesian families. They were, in terms of their inheritance, Halle's pious Ministeriales, who wrote to one another with a sense of Jesuit conspiracy.215 The Reuβ princeling house (the scourge of German genealogists) via Count Heinrich XXIV Reuβ at Köstritz (1681–1748) and Count Heinrich XXIII Reuβ at Lobenstein (1680–1723), and Erdmann Heinrich, Count Henckel, Freiherr von Donnersmarck at Pölzig (1681–1752), were a Hallesian circle of piety, Francke's so-called ‘Privy Council’ (Geheime Rat), who became responsible for an extensive network of Lutheran noble refuges in the Saxon and Silesian Lutheran diaspora. A prominent example of this likeminded nobility was Count Erdmann II Promnitz at Sorau (1683–1745), patron and builder of the new Lutheran Gnadenkirche and vicarage at Teschen (1709), builder of an orphanage (1718), and Bible institute (1728) on Hallesian lines at Sorau, and patron of many Moravian refugees. By 1730, this noble networking had also spread north from Halle to Estonian and Livonian manors, and to the Danish court at Copenhagen. The diplomat, Christian Ernst Stolberg-Wernigerode (1691–1771), who had converted to Halle (1727), was invited to

215

Erbe, 72–3.

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Copenhagen in 1731 by Christian VI and his pious queen, Sophie Christiane Brandenburg-Bayreuth-Kulmbach, after their visit to Wernigerode in 1728, as principal adviser on the reform of church and school in Denmark. In this way, other Reichsadel such as the two sons of Heinrich Reuβ XXIV, or families such as von Lynar, Castell, and IsenburgBüdingen, entered the ranks of German nobility holding senior Danish ministerial appointments.216 Pietism also grew in expanding urban parishes. Pia Desideria (1675) was a passionate and easy to follow homiletic preface to a new edition of Arndt's Postil (1615) interpreting the Gospels read on Sundays and festivals of the Christian year, which Spener published under the imprint of his friend, the Frankfurt publisher, Zunner.217 As Frankfurt's senior, Spener wished his preface (which he had discussed thoroughly with his fellow city clergy before publication, because of his fears about the reaction of Frankfurt's conservative Lutheran city magistracy), to serve his clergy as both devotional and pastoral advice, and as self-criticism in a city which was growing too rapidly for adequate pastoral care. Pauline epistolary counsel in Colossians 3: 16, ‘let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord’, was an urgent plea, because Spener feared that an undue emphasis on theology and a poor grasp of the pastorate was the major reason for a rapidly widening gap between Frankfurt parish clergy and parishioners at a time of marked demographic change. ‘The presumed monopoly of the clerical estate’ was a habit of mind which had to stop in an environment where princes and magistrates used Reformation church orders to police the behaviour of citizens, and paid less attention to their caring role as nurses to their respective churches (Isaiah 49: 23). The effect in the two decades (1680–1700), especially in rapidly expanding Frankfurt am Main, Berlin, and Halle, was at best Müller's conventional Christianity which smothered the evangelical in parish life. Spener's urgent demand for reform of the Lutheran office into one which accepted the partnership of active members of the congregation was shaped considerably by his urban pastoral experience. Frankfurt's population grew from 17,000 to 27,000 (1655–1700); Berlin's (when Spener was provost of St Nicholas), from c.10,000

216

Erbe, 73–84; Magon, Deutschland und Skandinavien, 20–8.

217

Pia Desideria, ed. Aland.

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(1680) to 56,664 when the first census was recorded (1709); Halle's, during Francke's incumbency of Glaucha, from 14,000 to 26,000 (1700–25). In Frankfurt (1650–1700), more than 50 per cent of citizens granted full legal privileges were immigrants of Dutch or Huguenot origin who had come as a result of trade or religious persecution.218 In 1700, there were almost equal numbers of Calvinist and Lutheran merchants. City fathers fought, during Spener's pastorate, a successful, if bruising battle, to maintain their earlier refusal of citizenship (1628) to Calvinists and outsiders who had made Frankfurt their residence (Beisassen).219 Lutheran councillors feared what the share of Calvinists in Frankfurt's property, commerce, labour, and wealth might do to the city's Lutheran cultural identity. This came to a head over an article in an ordinance defining citizenship (1708), which prohibited incomers (Beisassen) from operating the businesses of female citizens, even of those to whom they were married. There followed a series of heated exchanges between Frankfurt's Calvinist and Lutheran communities which lasted until 1735, when the Reichshofrat ruled in favour of this ordinance, but it added a compromising proviso that economic privileges of Frankfurt's female citizens need not be curtailed by marriage to Beisassen. However, repeated petitions by Frankfurt's Calvinist community for free public worship came to nothing; even Spener voted against this proposal, since he feared the political repercussions of a constitutional conflict with a conservative-minded Lutheran magistracy. Calvinist public worship was thus acknowledged only at the end of the century in 1787. In Berlin, immigration meant additional pastoral care of new suburban parishes added to the core of the old medieval city parishes (suburbs created in the late seventeenth century, Kölln, Friedrichswerder, Dorotheenstadt, and Friedrichsstadt, were united with Spandau, Königsstadt, Stralau, Köpenick, and Sommerfeld in 1709), and the need for tolerance in the spirit of 1648, since these new citizens were mostly Calvinist and Reformed.220 This was the result of the Prussian state's deliberate policy (Edict of Potsdam, 1685), of colonization with Dutch, Huguenot, and Reformed palatinate immigrants who had fled religious persecution. In 1700,

218

Soliday, Community in Conflict, 35–40.

219

Ibid. 31, 208–30.

220

Badstübner-Gröger et al., Hüguenotten in Berlin, 476–7.

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the French colony alone amounted to about a fifth of Berlin's population. The extension of privileges contained in the Edict of Potsdam to Halle, led to a rapid swelling of Halle's indigenous population (depleted by the plague of 1681–3) after the first immigrants arrived in 1686. Halle's importance as the centre of a new clothing and crafts industry was due more often than not to these immigrant skills. The same kind of bruising conflict with an entrenched Lutheran magistracy and city clergy was experienced by Spener as provost of St Nicholas in Berlin, and by Francke at Glaucha. But, in both cases, Spener and Francke were lucky to have the protection of Reformed Hohenzollern kings who were sympathetic patrons for their plans of religious renewal in these poor and overcrowded parishes. Glaucha, Francke's parish (1692–1715), was an urban community beyond Halle's city walls under more tolerant royal jurisdiction; Halle, Francke's second parish (1715–27), was less open to reform, owing to government by an intolerant Lutheran magistracy. The effect of swiftly growing urban parishes, and the problems connected with the assimilation of educated, industrious, and mobile incomers practising a different Protestant faith, exposed the limitations of a traditional Lutheran teaching office. A new understanding was essential. Increasingly bitter disputes which had broken out in these Lutheran cities over the obvious economic competition immigrants brought with them, and over citizens' constitutional rights, were indissolubly linked with the recognition of equal religious status and better pastoral care. What Spener and Francke proposed to do within the scope of their Lutheran office and oath—both stressed repeatedly respect for their respective urban church orders—was to enhance the pastoral quality of their office with the pastoral practice of the Early Church and Anglo-Dutch churchmanship in mind. There were recent Lutheran precursors at home. The ecclesiastical historian, Balthasar Bebel (1632–86) of Strasburg University, with whom Spener was friendly, and Christian Kortholt (1633–94) of Kiel University, who taught Francke for a while, were churchmen such as Theophil Groβgebauer (1621–61) at Rostock, Spener's brother-in-law, Johann Ludwig Hartmann (1640–84), at Rothenburg, or even an ‘orthodox’ figure like Mayer in Hamburg and Greifswald, who shared this pastoral concern as scholars and as parish clergy. It was an interest visible too in the translation of the Anglican, William

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Cave's, Primitive Christianity (1672), at orthodox Leipzig in 1694. Arnold, Spener's warm-hearted, headstrong pupil, himself drew on Cave in his Die Erste Liebe der Gemeinen Jesu Christi, which he published at Frankfurt two years later in 1696. On the other hand it was typical of Spener to avoid reading Arnold's ecclesiastical history. Spener knew the limits of reform in the environment of German princes and magistrates. He preferred to keep an ‘open’ mind on such a touchy subject. What was special about Spener and Francke was the way they popularized apostolic, patristic, and modern AngloDutch pastoral care amongst Lutheran parish clergy in these changing times. This implied redefinition of the Lutheran teaching and sacramental office, as one which included much greater emphasis than was customary on individual and household pastoral care. The parish clergyman was to be primus inter pares: a reborn member of a committed congregation of parishioners who helped him to put into practice the loving neighbourliness of the Christian commonweal which St Paul expounded in his letters to the Romans, Corinthians, and Colossians; and the life of prayer and the Cross, which Church Fathers such as Ignatius, Origen, and Gregory of Nazianzus exemplified. Spener and Francke really made clear to Lutherans in Germany and Scandinavia in 1700 that Lutheran Seelsorge also meant committed pastoral care in parishes. They introduced a new Lutheran ecclesiology in which a lay office acted as a pastoral aid, and a congregation of committed believers led the territorial parish. In doing this, Spener and Francke were paying recognition as much to the ideological and secular changes associated with the teaching of Dutch natural law and political history—particularly Grotius and Lipsius—which had become fashionable in Strasburg and several north German universities, as they were to the presbytery of Reformed and Calvinist congregations in their own Lutheran city parishes of Frankfurt, Berlin, and Halle. This view was shared by like-minded Lutheran canon lawyers at Halle such as Thomasius and Böhmer, who refashioned their local Saxon theocratic law into a new Protestant canon law commensurate with the new public law of modern sovereign states. The fact that Spener and Francke also chose to be vicars of parishes in Berlin and Halle in the hand of Prussian rulers of the Reformed faith, personified this important secular shift, in 1700, away from Saxon Lutheran tradition.

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What Spener and Francke hoped to change was far from easy. Committed lay churchmanship was really hindered as much by local habit as it was by the string of Conventicle Acts introduced by princes and towns in the period (c. 1690–1730). Demands for more pastors, provision of deacons for care of the poor, calls for better parochial organization to take account of manageable vicar/parishioner ratios (Frankfurt was the only city in Germany with no territorial parishes), better registration of parishioners, regular house visits, fell on intentionally deaf ears of town councils. Two famous cases, those of Spener and Francke's close friends, Johann Winckler (1642–1705), and Johann Caspar Schade (1666–98), were particularly vexing. Winckler, brought up in the conservative Saxon environment of Leipzig's Thomasschule and university, had learnt already, as a court chaplain at Hesse-Darmstadt (1676–8) and briefly as pastor of the new Concordienkirche at Mannheim (1678–9), that Lutheran urban parishes had to open doors to Reformed immigrants. Urban parishioners were also ignorant of basic Christian teaching. How to communicate effectively with parishioners in a large urban parish worried Winckler as senior of St Michael in Hamburg from 1684. His solution was Spenerian. Winckler held from 1687 onwards ‘colleges’ in his vicarage as he had done at Darmstadt. These were simple courses of Bible study for Hamburg ordinands. He also opened his vicarage twice a week to his parishioners for spiritual advice and prayer. Francke, who spent 1688 as a tutor to Winckler's children, saw this as an excellent model of urban pastoral practice. But the problem of lip-service churchmanship, especially private confession before communion, in this large city parish remained almost insoluble. Winckler's worries surfaced in an exchange of letters with Leipzig's theology faculty: whether, in these circumstances, he was a true pastor to a large flock whose spiritual state he could not possibly know? Should he resign? Leipzig theologians praised his conscience, but argued that as an ordained clergyman, Winckler should continue to carry out his duties as best he could. Winckler replied that Jonah had cared for 120,000 parishioners at Nineveh (Jonah 4: 11), to which the calm advice of Leipzig experience replied that Jonah surely did not worry too much about each and every one; the same was probably true, they emphasized, of the Apostles when they worked in large towns.221 This was a

221

Leube, Orthodoxie und Pietismus, 133–4, 162–3.

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prelude to a bitter row (1690–1700) between Winckler and his like-minded Pietist Hamburg clergy (Horb and Hinckelmann) with Mayer and several other influential senior Hamburg clergy over this new homespun pastoral practice. It was a struggle symptomatic of changing times and styles. Things went Winckler's Pietist way. On appointment (1699) as Hamburg's senior, Winckler was able to introduce a proper theological examination for Hamburg ordinands; he edited Luther's Bible for Hamburg citizens at his own cost; started primary schooling in Hamburg; introduced a modern vernacular collection of city collects; and introduced the first official Hamburg hymnal in April 1700, whose popularity was sealed with two further editions in the same year. This tradition was carried on by his brilliant son, the orientalist Johann Friedrich Winckler (1679–1738?), chief pastor of St Nicholas from 1712. Like his father, or Lassenius at Copenhagen, his simple vernacular preaching became so popular that new pews had to be installed to seat his growing congregation. Schade's case was more pitiful, in keeping with his name, but was a milestone in the advance of Prussian religious toleration. As deacon of St Nicholas in Berlin after 1691, Schade was immediately confronted, in this parish with a large and rising population (St Nicholas and St Mary contained c.6000 parishioners) with the problem of adequate confessional preparation before parish communion. Schade, a manic-depressive idealist who was obliged to sit for up to seven hours in the confessional on Saturdays, became clearly unhappy about his flock's spiritual state. In his sermons he described the confessional as a satanic and papal relic, as he did in correspondence with his superior, Spener, who happened to be provost of St Nicholas (from 1691). Like Winckler, Schade took his worries to the theologians, and in January 1696 put to them some thirty questions of conscience. Could a Lutheran preacher carry out traditional confessional practice and absolution with a good conscience? Should he commit his conscience to the authority of the established church? Should he, like Winckler, resign? But Schade went further by questioning established Berlin social convention. Was it a matter of indifference to act as confessor to those with ‘towers’ of powdered hair, and copious wigs? How should a confessor cope with drunkards, comedians, backsliders, and other drop-outs? ‘Give not that which is holy unto the dogs’, Matthew 7: 6, was followed up by a little

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polemical tract, Vom Conscientia erronea, whose passionate language for a reform of Berlin's clergy worried Spener greatly.222 Schade's abolition of private confession at the beginning of 1697, and his introduction of spiritual advice and general absolution in the sacristy before communion, was also a departure from what was expected of him as a parish clergyman. The outcome was parochial uproar, especially when Schade described the church as little more than the whore of Babylon. Schade's obstinate continuance, after Spener as provost had ordered him to restore normal practice, led to representation being made by both guilds and magistracy to the elector. The outcome was a typical compromise, but one with tragic results. Spener was compromised; the elector transferred Schade to another parish on 17 July 1698; Schade died prematurely of tuberculosis, brought on by exhaustion, hardly ten days later on 25 July. His burial on 27–8 July produced a tumult, which meant that Schade's obsequies had to be transferred hastily to Spener's vicarage. What might have been forgotten as another conflict between Pietist ideals and parish convention pushed the Reformed elector to end the obligatory nature of Lutheran private confession in Brandenburg-Prussia on 16 November 1698. This finished the binding quality of Prussian established religion, and introduced, as liberty of religious conscience, confessional peace to a state which was increasing its percentage of Reformed subjects. In practice, however, private confession remained for those Lutherans who wanted it; a sermon on a penitential theme was still to be held on Saturdays; and private confession continued to raise an essential occasional fee in a state whose poor parish clergy needed ready cash. Subsequent Pietist reformers like Steinmetz in the 1730s thus thought that many Prussian Lutheran parish clergy were doing much the same as they had been doing before 1698. So far Pietism has been treated in the context of devotional piety and pastoral care. German and Scandinavian Pietism as religious renewal in the half-century 1700–50 was also a conflict of doctrinal principle. This surfaced as a squabble between Francke and Leipzig theologians. Francke, like Spener, questioned Lutheran scholastic theology taught at Leipzig and the way it reinforced the traditional pomp and circumstance of Duke Henry's Saxon Rite (1539) in Leipzig's

222

Obst, Berliner Beichtstuhlstreit, 28–9 passim.

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churches at a time of marked urban growth: 21,696 in 1700 rising to 29,552 in 1729.223 Medieval St Thomas and St Nicholas, each staffed by four ordained clergy and a non-ordained Saturday preacher, remained in fact the only city parish churches until reform in 1856, though four churches were added by 1712: a former Franciscan monastic chapel, the New Church (1701), the former hospital chapel of St George (1705), the university chapel of St Paul (1710: used until then only for academic ceremonies and homiletic excercises), and St Peter (1712: in use previously as a limekiln). Shared between eight ordained clergy, this meant a ratio of 1:2,712–3,694 parishioners (1700–29). Francke saw that the effect in the city of fairs and books would be to separate clergy from parishioners; exacerbated by the fact that as a university city Leipzig may have had a more flourishing student life than did Copenhagen, but its theological training was equally dismal. Leipzig ordinands were a mix of sons from old clergy families, and a far larger body of poor students of peasant stock. Most were able to study for only one year. How to teach them adequately had become a major worry. An answer lay in cutting corners with superficial textbook homiletics taught verbatim by professors. Little attention was paid to the Bible or to devotional and liturgical literature. Francke complained in 1709 of how twenty years earlier he could hardly find Bibles and textbooks in Leipzig bookshops. Gerber thought the same was true of liturgical books. How could an ordinand in these circumstances be a proper pastor? To understand vocatio, Francke, like Spener, put the Bible, prayer (with this in mind he had translated the Catholic quietist mystic Molinos in 1687), attention to homiletic disposition, and the instruction of parishioners in prayer meetings and by house visits, at the centre of training for the ministry. A venue was provided by an academic Collegium philobiblicum (18 July 1686) as one of the many Leipzig student clubs of the time. An innovation was the way Francke as a magister legens changed this academic weekly study of the biblical languages in Latin into a Bible class supplemented by prayer, collegia biblica, when he returned to Leipzig in 1689 after his ‘conversion’ in 1687, and experience of Winckler and Spener's pious households. Leipzig's student accommodation also provided the necessary network of pious contacts, because students usually lodged

223

Leube, ‘Geschichte der pietistischen Bewegung in Leipzig’, Orthodoxie und Pietismus, 153–255.

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with citizens in the city. Pietism became a fashion, as might be expected, in a Saxon and Thuringian home-town environment of crafts and some business, particularly amongst women. This coloured the haphazard pattern of conventicle composition in urban parishes after 1700. Though not large in numerical terms—Pietism never became a broad popular movement like the nineteenth-century awakening—Francke's ad hominem vernacular Bible reading and common prayer lessening the difference between clergyman and parishioner appealed to burghers and an artisanate which could read and write.224 Francke found Pietism much more difficult to introduce in his own parish, Glaucha-Halle.225 Most of its 200 families were too poor to send their children to school; the privilege to distil and sell drink in thirty-nine hostelries and beer gardens to Halle citizens had its customary social side-effects. Francke became aware of this world through the tradition of outdoor relief every Thursday. He brought the poor in, old on one side, young on the other, taught them in a direct but friendly way Luther's Little Catechism, and ended with a prayer. After this he distributed bread as a symbol of spiritual nourishment. He bought almsboxes for students and parishioners to collect with, but little was given. Where did one start? It was a question which forced Francke to organize. The Glauchisches Gedenkbüchlein, Francke's manual of pastoral care, which he printed a year or so after arrival and distributed free to each household, stressed the living connection between simple vernacular homiletic preaching in church and family prayers at home. Francke preached two sermons on Sunday, three during the week, and two sermons quarterly on repentance prefaced by a service of Bible study and prayer the day before. Daily instruction in Christian doctrine in the vicarage, prayers every morning for adults, and childrens' prayers in the evening, accompanied this. Students helped out eventually. Family devotion consisted of prayer and Bible meetings (conventicles), and house visitation on a prearranged schedule, in which an examination of Christian knowledge, Bible study, and prayer with the entire household took place (Hausverhör). But Francke's parish Pietism would not have come to anything had he not drawn upon his Lübeck business background to successfully convert the expanding economic enterprise of Halle associated

224

Ibid. 185–9.

225

Kramer, Francke Lebensbild, i. 106, 162–4.

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with Huguenot and Reformed palatinate congregations into viable patronage for the institutes that he built (1695–1730).226 Francke began with a basic need. He opened a poor school at Easter 1695, and an orphanage soon after. It was the first time that many poor children had seen a proper bed and washing facilities. Francke's emphasis on developing a child's talents was novel. A grammar or Latin school, and a paedagogium for young noblemen, introduced vernacular schooling in which religious instruction was placed amongst modern secular subjects. Religion, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew were supplemented by French, history, geography, arithmetic, geometry, botany, anatomy, astronomy, writing, and diction. Like Francke's homiletics, this was teaching which was simple and easy (‘auf eine kurtze und leichte Methode zu unterrichten’). Ability and industry meant that those of humble social background reached the Latin school as scholars (Freischüler). Teacher training was also introduced with a Seminarium Praeceptorum (1697); in 1698, a proper library; and a Collegium orientale. Teaching was simple, but pupils were strictly supervised throughout the day in a system where use of time was seen as a virtue. The four-storey institutes were a milestone in eighteenth-century planned building—the provision of adequate housing, spacious rooms, and sanitation provided by a kilometre of water supply. The large houses included opportunities for learning skills—a building works, tailor's shop, bakery, butchery, shoemaker's shop, and gardens. A children's clinic with clinical study for university medical students was also novel. All of this was financed by donations in the first instance, but later a royal privilege (1698) allowed Francke's institutes to earn money by sales of medicaments made in the new apothecary, and by his printing press and bookshop which established branches in Berlin and Frankfurt am Main. The orphanage's press sold not only theology and devotional literature, but books of all sorts at fixed prices for the first time. By 1727, the institutes had become an enterprise of some 3,000 people earning thousands of thalers annually. It was this which helped to establish Prussian Halle as the seat of new primary and secondary learning, printing, and charitable enterprise by 1730 both in Germany and in Scandinavia. Halle was also popularized by Francke's gradual introduction of foreign mission—in Lutheran Germany and Scandinavia, unknown

226

Storz, ‘Franckens Stiftungen zu Halle an der Saale’, in Raabe (ed.), Franckeschen Stiftungen, 16–33; Kramer i. 165 passim.

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before 1700—to the Indian sub-continent, Greenland, Siberia, Russia, and Trans-Caucasia. In this way, Halle also became very influential in Denmark and Sweden by 1721. Copenhagen, via the work of Ludolf, turned after 1704 into a centre for Hallesian mission (a state-sponsored Mission College was founded in 1714) when the first Hallesian missionaries were sent to the Danish trading post (established 1618) at Tranquebar, south of Madras; a similar mix of colonization for mercantilist purposes and Spenerian and Franckean mission (1721–36), by the Norwegian clergyman, Hans Egede (1686–1756), occurred in Greenland. Hallesian Pietism and mission entered Sweden via Swedish civil servants and army families, in all some 30,000, who returned in 1721 from the experience of army camp piety as Russian prisoners of war captured after Poltava. They had been held (1710–21) in a settlement near Tobolsk, the capital of western Siberia (founded 1587) which they rebuilt (it having burnt down in 1701), led by captains Kurt Friedrich von Wreech, and Philipp Johan Tabbert (otherwise known as the mathematician and fortifications expert ‘Strahlenberg’, 1676–1747). Material and spiritual adversity in these harsh landscapes were softened by a new Hallesian devotional and pastoral literature, and a scientific interest in describing pristine Creation by Halle's institutes. Egede's Description of Greenland (translated 1745) is notable for its honesty and realism, describing ‘the frightful ice that covers the whole Face of the Land, the sea . . . almost choak'd with it’, the many natural occurrences such as meteors, shooting stars, and the aurora borealis, and his uphill Lutheran mission with an Eskimo religion which saw time as always having been so, and which believed in animism, and practised shamanism.227 How did one explain Creation and the Fall, or the blood of the Lamb in a country with no sheep? Could Eskimo communal culture be linked to Danish absolutism and Lutheran hierarchy? In Siberia, settlement in clearings amidst a thick forest canopy of fir, spruce, and cedar, produced a warm but Puritan (Cromwellian perhaps), inward, soul-searching piety. This combined Caroline Old Testament retribution and repentance with reading the New Testament, and devotional books such as those of

227

Egede, Description of Greenland, 54–6. He ended (220) optimistically on Eskimo life: ‘What is sweeter than Liberty? And what is happier than Contentedness? But one thing is yet wanting, I mean, the saving knowledge of God and his dear Son Christ Jesus, in which alone consists eternal Life and Happiness. John 17. And this is what we offer you, in preaching to you the Holy Gospel.’

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Thomas à Kempis, Arndt, Scriver, and Spener, first as circulated hand-written copies, and then in print, when the first consignment of 48 Bibles, 100 New Testaments, 50 hymn-books, and some 500 devotional books arrived from Halle in May 1715.228 Prayer was supplemented by an ever-increasing Hallesian literature published also by the former Narva publisher, Johann Köhler (captured by the Russians and taken to Moscow, 1708–16), at Reval after his release (1716–36). Camp piety was complemented by a thirst for knowledge. Strahlenberg used his thirteen Siberian years not only to evangelize, but also to map northern Siberia and north-east Kamchatka (1715–18), fixing the Urals for the first time as the natural geographic barrier between Siberia and European Russia, and to describe as accurately as possible the many Siberian and central-Asian (thirty-two Tartar dialects) languages, and the history and culture of these peoples. He eventually published this experience—to use its English title—An Historico-geographical description of the north and eastern parts of Europe and Asia, at Stockholm in 1726, shortly after returning to Sweden. He wrote in his introduction that it was work which made it possible to be more accurate about the biblical issue of tongues, and the ‘migration of nations and the origins of people’. In this way, Strahlenberg complemented the linguistic labour of Sparwenfeld and Leibniz, the Ludolfs, and Francke at Halle. In a much broader sense, this experience was seminal for the spread of Spenerian and Hallesian piety, new Pufendorfian and Thomasian public law, Protestant canon law at Moscow under the Russian Orthodox theologian, Feofan Prokopovic (1681–1736)—close to these circles as archbishop of Pskov and Narva after 1718—and the cultural mapping of European Russia by Hallesian academics such as Daniel Gottlob Messerschmidt (1685–1735) and Gottlieb Siegried Bayer (1694–1738), and the Swabian explorer Samuel Gottlieb Gmelin (1744–74) as Eduard Winter has shown.229 Hallesian mission was also successful at home, being spread by a new generation of Hallesian clergy who filled those parishes left vacant by plague and the Great Northern War in poor rural

228

Wreech, Wahrhaffte und umständliche Historie, 16–17, 257 passim.

229

Handwritten circulation, and Köhler's Reval printing press: Nordstrandh, Den äldre svenska pietismens litteratur, 83, 86 passim. See Winter, Halle als Ausgangspunkt der deutschen Ruβlandskunde. Halle stopped printing in Russian (1735/6), owing to difficulty in distribution, škyj, ‘Kreis A. H. Franckes’, 33.

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provinces adjacent to the Baltic stretching from Slesvig/Schleswig to Narva. From these provinces, it infiltrated postwar Denmark-Norway, and, via Livonia and Estonia, Sweden-Finland. One could say that Halle in this way helped Copenhagen and Stockholm, whether it was liked or not, to expand their authority over a still unmapped periphery. In Sweden, seventeenth-century mission to the Lapps was consolidated with the ecclesiastical reorganization of the Lappmark (1723), and spread subsequently by the first Lapp Catechism (1738), service- and hymn-book (1744), New Testament (1755), and eventually (1811) by the Bible. By the time of Francke's death (1727), Halle had established itself as one of the chief centres of learning in Protestant Europe; transmitting new learning associated with Cartesian thought, natural law, and historical inquiry based on the study of primary sources in the new disciplines of philosophy, languages, history, and ethnography, with which the German and Scandinavian Enlightenment is associated. What was novel in Spener's and Francke's churchmanship was the similar technique both employed to propagate Lutheran religious renewal. Despite their emphasis on committed congregationalism, both, and particularly Spener, extended their influence just as much by writing letters throughout their lives. To underline this paradox, it was said of Spener that he shunned people much more than he sought them (‘er mied den Menschen vielmehr als er sie suchte’); his wife, it seems, addressed him in the third person (Ihr), and he supped alone in his study three times a week.230 Spener liked to write letters, and to use the printed page as preface, tract, or book of homilies to spell out his message. This was as important to him as his pastorate. Typical are Natur und Gnade (1687), which Spener had written specifically as pastoral advice for his Saxon clergy; four weighty quarto volumes containing his copious pastoral correspondence, Theologische Bedenken (1700–2), and his quarto three-volume Consilia et Judicia Theologica Latina, published posthumously (1709). In many ways, Spener let others do the fighting for him (as was the case with Winckler and Schade); he was typically quick with advice, but slow, some might say cautious, in standing up to be counted. Francke used the same technique in a far more systematic way, spurred on as he was by the success of Jesuit mission and education in Europe and the wider world.

230

Grünberg, Spener, i. 376–80.

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Francke, rather like another St Paul, used the community letter, as favoured by Jewish leaders of the Diaspora to keep in touch with their congregations. This thrived in the wide network of Hallesian pastors, ordinands, noble families, army officers, and senior civil servants both at home and further afield in Livonia, Estonia, east-central Europe, and Russia which he had built up. Francke was above all else master of the modern press. Not only did he print the Bible, New Testament, and prayer books comprising the Protestant devotional canon cheaply for mass consumption, but he also circulated and reprinted broadsheets, tracts for the times, grammars, and catechisms in an unlimited supply. This he did in the vernacular: in High German, the Scandinavian languages, Latvian and Finno-Ugric, in colloquial Russian, and in the Slav and oriental languages. Pastoral advice offered as correspondence behind the scenes by Spener and Francke thus represented one of the most influential currents of religious change in eighteenth-century Germany and Scandinavia.

8 Reform I. Visitation Peace made parish visitation possible again. But visitors soon became aware that religious observance in the collective agrarian parish had little affinity with the restoration of sixteenth-century church order in Germany after 1648, and the recent establishment of Lutheran religious uniformity in Denmark and Sweden. A visitation report of 1731 on the state of the post-war Swedish Pomeranian church sent to King Frederick I (1720–51) of Sweden by his new general superintendent (1721–32), Albrecht Joachim von Krakewitz (1674–1732), is typical. Little had changed since his predecessors in office, Konrad Tiburtius Rango (1689–1700), and Mayer (1701–12). Krakewitz, a pastoral reformer who mixed orthodox Rostock pastoral theology with Spenerian, and a reformer with an equally strong sense of local customary constraints (as superintendent of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (1713–21) he had recently struggled with a tyrannical duke, Charles Leopold (1713–28, d. 1747), in defence of the rights of his clergy, especially regarding the duke's wish to tax their glebe), reported that Pomeranian children, parents, and the old showed an obvious ignorance of basic Christian truth. Gentry, who wanted maximum labour service, prevented parents and children attending regularly Sunday catechism and school ordained by Pomerania's church order. The old stayed away from the visitor in order to hide their ignorance. The whims of patrons made it impossible to appoint a properly qualified parish clergy. Poor stipends failed to attract good candidates. Enclosure was not good for stipends based solely on income in kind from glebe. Vergers, usually responsible for parish catechism, were overburdened with the minutiae of official bureaucracy. Proper visitation by senior clergy was difficult, because visitation was officially considered an unpaid job. Krakewitz, who

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saw adequate pay as a precondition of better clergy standards, demanded an honorarium in future.231 Post-war visitation reports by Danish bishops described a similar parishscape. A basic ignorance of Christian truth was widespread. Sunday observance was poor; many failed to attend catechism and visitations. Much of this was caused by patrons who wanted maximum labour service; by a general fear of exhibiting Christian ignorance publicly; and by a lack of communication between senior and parish clergy. Parish clergy and deacons were often not properly qualified. Christian education in primary schools was dreadful. Parish clergy did not observe repeated warnings to teach the young the catechism ordained in the Danish Rite. A marked lack of respect for public order continued in parishes. Parish services were noisy; parishioners kept their hats on during prayers, the reading of the Epistles and Gospel, and even the celebration of communion. Officiating clergy failed to observe the rubric. A report of 1719 noted that on Fyn, clergymen had repeatedly been forbidden to discard chasubles and albs after the blessing. They should remain at the altar wearing their vestments until the service was over.232 Visitation showed above all the survival of pagan and Catholic observances. People loved to have candles in dark Romanesque parish churches for light, festivity, and an aura of sanctity. It was often difficult to limit these to two candles per altar. Pilgrimages to spots associated with the Virgin Mary, or with other saints such as (in Jutland) St Søren in Ry, St Esben in Gyderup, St Anne in Åbenra, continued (a similar practice to that in Estonia and Livonia). In some parishes, visitation reports continued into the nineteenth century to note pilgrimage to holy wells for healing purposes. In the parish of Skanderup (Skannerup) in the diocese of Aarhus, the vicar in office (1792–1836) noted in his parish register many hundreds of pilgrims who visited the spring in the north-west corner of the church's graveyard from a catchment area stretching down the east side of Jutland from Aalborg to Holstein. They had asked him, either in writing or verbally, to say prayers for the sick. Holiness was power: saints had power to influence God by their intercession.233 Pontoppidan was inspired to publish in 1736 (the bicentenary of

231

‘Desideria über den Pommerschen und Rugianischen Kirchen-Staat’, Baltische Studien, 17 (Stettin, 1858), 169; ibid. 19 (1863), 109–12, 114–17.

232

L. Koch, ‘Gudstjenesten i den danske Kirke efter reformationen’, KhS (1902/3), 96–9.

233

Ibid. 28–30; Pontoppidan, Atlas, 4. 214; Trap, Danmark, viii/2. 562.

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the Danish Reformation), a Latin account of Danish parochial superstition, Everriculum fermenti veteris (a new broom to sweep away pagan and papal ‘sour dough’), since it was still the easiest way to inform his colleagues schooled in Latin at Copenhagen.234 Based on his observation of parish life as a curate on the island of Als (1723–34), Pontoppidan noted widespread belief in supernatural forces and portents; also overindulgence at baptism and marriage wakes. He stressed how little had changed since Müller had pointed to the four dumb customary idols in church, and notably to misuse of the rubric of the Danish rite at communion. Many still believed in the healing properties of consecrated communion wine; or, during visitation of the sick, an ill person frequently asked for the chalice as a means to get better, or as thanks when the worst was over. Pontoppidan hoped that he would not offend common sense when he wrote of this as ‘monkish quackery’.235 Misuse of the sign of the cross for its magic property of protection was common. He cited historical usage of the cross on the banners of crusaders; the popular belief that the Danish flag (consisting of a red background with a white cross), Dannebrog, fell from heaven when Valdemar II fought the heathen; or the words heard by Emperor Constantine in his vision before the battle of the Milvian bridge ‘in hoc signo vinces’.236 In Pontoppidan's own times parishioners continued to make the sign of the cross in church at the blessing, or during the day when bread was broken at meals; when butter was salted; when a field was seeded in the spring. Its use to ward off evil was common: in Jutland on the night of St Hans (24 June) cows were given garlands of St John's wort and cruciform wild flowers to prevent witches stealing their milk during the night.237

II. Land and People, Propagation of the Gospel, and a Reformation of Manners Critical visitation reports were symptomatic of a post-war constitutional environment where the ideas of a public realm, public service, and citizenship were only just beginning to take hold. Pufendorf's Einleitung zu der Historie der vornehmsten Reiche und Staaten (1682),

234

Danish translation as J. Olrik (ed.), Fejekost (1923).

235

Ibid. 48–9.

236

Ibid. 51–2.

237

Ibid. 53.

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based on his lectures at Lund, became popular amongst parish clergy, because Pufendorf introduced local archives and statistics as a way of recording land and people in addition to the usual narrative chronology of states and constitutions. In Denmark, Holberg and Pontoppidan pioneered this new cultural history. Holberg added an appendix in 1713 to his edition of Pufendorf's history (1711), which included land, people, and religion he had recently observed in the Netherlands, England, and Germany. A decade later, in 1729 in Danmarks og Norges Beskrivelse, he treated his native land in the same way. Parishioners and their local church became visible for the first time.238 It was easier to see what had happened since the Reformation. Clergy began to use this new method based on local source material, soon to be known as a topographic account, utilizing their knowledge of parish records, oral history, and custom. Pontoppidan drew both on this pastoral work, and like Holberg, on his own travels for his topographic Danish history Theatrum Daniae veteris (1730), and his short history of the Danish church since the Reformation (1734). He wrote the latter in German to inform a new German-speaking Danish civil service installed at Copenhagen by King Frederick IV (1699–1730) about the country they served. Modern Danish ecclesiastical history became a subject of popular interest for the first time: visible in the the new historical journal Dänische Bibliothec (1738–47), whose three opening volumes were edited by the historian Jacob Langebek (1710–75), and the clergyman, Ludvig Harboe (1709–83)—bishop of Sjælland after 1757—and in Pontoppidan's four quarto volumes, Annales ecclesiae Danicae (1741–52; also published in German). If Pontoppidan's history was Pietist in calling for a return to the pastoral practice of the Early Church—Arnold's mixture of pagan and Catholic corruption is easy to see in Pontoppidan's summary treatment of the medieval Danish church—a sense of historical context, of constraints preventing reform, made a more convincing case for the Danish Reformation's failure to strike roots amongst parishioners. Pontoppidan showed how an average Danish parishioner's innate conservatism was dictated by the visual order of saints' days, festivals of the Christian year, inherited ritual, and an oral culture which entailed memorizing a handful of Reformation hymns and parts of the catechism. Parishioners as individuals, their ways and beliefs, rather than images of them fashioned by theology,

238

E. Jørgensen, Historieforskning, 181.

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began to matter. Pontoppidan and his post-war generation of Pietist senior clergy also used visitation and its evidence to fashion historical awareness of the local church as a basis for its reform. A good contemporary example of this is the documentary two-volume church history of neighbouring Swedish Pomerania by Jakob Heinrich Balthasar (1690–1763), published at Greifswald (1723–5).239 The most influential post-war observer and recorder of parish life, also spokesman for a link between Pietism and a modern reformation of manners in Scandinavia and northern Germany, was the Småland clergyman's son, the great botanist, Carl von Linné (1707–78), known in English as Linnaeus. Childhood and youth (1707–35) spent at the country vicarage of Stenbrohult was formative in linking in Linné's observant mind the demonic world and Catholic popular religion of his local parish and diocese (Växjö) with daily reading of both Old and New Testaments in the Swedish authorized Bible, catechism, and hymn-book. Linné read the Psalms, the Prophets, the Book of Wisdom and the rest of the Apocrypha with the same devotion as he did St Paul's letters or the four Gospels, using the rhythm and poetry of the Psalms (he loved especially Psalms 19, 104, 148), and the majestic prose of the Prophets, to describe metaphorically the unity of Sweden's natural world and people.240 He drew too on the Pietist description of nature he read in Arndt (1647) and Scriver (translated 1723/4), and used this to shape the natural world's moral code described by Latin poets such as Ovid in Ars Amatoria, or Virgil in the Georgics, which he had learnt at Växjö cathedral school. To this he added modern philosophical observation taught by Wolff (his Systema naturae 1735), and Anglican ‘PhysicoTheology’ he encountered on his English tour (1735–8), as a way of showing that a scientific knowledge of nature also led to knowledge and praise of God. The works of John Ray (1627–1705) and William Derham (1657–1735) were translated into Swedish (1735–6) thus also influencing Linné's writing on nature, such as Curiosita naturalis (1748), and Oeconomia naturae (1749), his descriptions of Lapp culture, and his topographies of Oland and Gotland (1745), West Gotland (1747), and Scania (1751), which he undertook for the Swedish parliament.241 This was writing

239

Erste (und zweite Sammlung) Einiger zur Pommerischen Kirchen-Historie gehörigen Schriften (Greifswald, 1723–5), 2 vols.

240

Malmeström, Linnés religiösa åskådning, 165.

241

Ibid. pp. xx, 83, 149 passim. Linné's sermon on Job 12: 7–8, Märkvärdigheter om Insecterne (1739), J. Sahlgren, ‘Linné som Predikant’, SLSÅ 5 (1922), 42 passim.

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mixing accuracy and pietas modelled on that of his like-minded Danish contemporaries Holberg and Pontoppidan. Parochial Sweden was thus described as part of a divine economy (Hushållning) steered by God, the divine Artificer (Byggmastare), in which human reason was tempered by the presence of the numinous, and human evil by the notion of talion.242 Custom, rites of passage, folk medicine; the impulsive, poetic, and lyrical as well as the factual, were written about as characteristic of a country people's undisturbed life as described by Virgil in the Georgics. Linné made visible, for a new generation of parish clergy in office after c.1750, the link between God's divine plan, the natural world, parish custom, and Pietism as a modern optimistic pastoral theology of action. This thinking marked an important shift in emphasis away from theology. It was possible in peaceful post-war times, particularly when the new Swedish Academy sponsored surveys of land and people, for parish clergy conscious of their privileged status in parliament (their privileges were reconfirmed in 1723) to link a new piety and an interest in church reform with a fresh optimism in parish improvement. Exemplary amongst post-war clergy were the rector of Hudiksvall and Idenor (from 1728), Olof Broman, who wrote a detailed commentary on the parishes, townships, villages, parishioners, customs, folklore and superstitions of the outback, Norrland; and the Lapp missionary (1742) and rector of the new parish, Gällivare (1742–9) and Skellefteå thereafter, Pehr Högström (1714–84). Högström, a disciple of Wolff, Ray, and Derham, who wrote Förnuftiga Tankar om Gud (1741), described the origins and culture of the Lappmark in 1747 (Beskrifning de til Sveriges krona lydande Lapmarker).243 Both exhibited a new interest in the improvement of agriculture in their parishes on a scientific basis, and both shared a sense that Swedes lived perhaps in the best of all possible worlds. Parish topography uniting natural history and parish social history provided the basic knowledge for reform in this spirit. There was a fresh pastoral tone coloured by a moral theology imported from Britain, the Netherlands, and Halle amongst parish clergy such as Pontoppidan and Gerber. They used pastoral example, common sense, and a comforting but firm psychology to

242

Malmeström, 162 passim ; Linné's talion influenced by Holberg's Moralske Tankar (1744), ibid. 29–31, 175; Linné's Nemesis Divina (c. 1750–70) influencing Herder: Hope, ‘Herder the Lutheran Clergyman’, 111–12.

243

Lindroth, Svensk lärdomshistoria, iii. 125 passim.

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explain the difference between an active evangelical faith and customary observance and superstition. This was a way forward. Their pastoral advice was warmly Christocentric, free of learning in the Pauline sense (1 Corinthians 2: 2 and Ephesians 3: 19), and prudent in saying just so much in order to allow the parishioner to reflect a little further.244 Gerber, as vicar of Saxon Lockwitz, cited the case of an old woman in his parish who thought she saw the ‘appearance’ of her late much-loved only son in the window of her living-room. He had died of a great fever in his twenties at the time of his intended marriage. Gerber stressed how important this parishioner was to him: though she could not read—it was impossible to attend school during the Thirty Years' War—she knew instinctively what faith, sin, and repentance were. Gerber consoled her with his question, ‘Why weep?’ Her son's appearance was an ‘uncertain thing’ connected with a strong imagination. Was it one of God's good angels, or even her son's soul, she asked? Gerber, holding her hand, replied he did not know.245 Pietist reform (1720–70) was therefore not so much disciplinary, though authorities obviously liked its policing aspect, as an attempt in a neighbourly down-to-earth way to make the Bible (summarized in catechisms) accessible and understood in parishes. Clergy spent more time in the home, and tried to improve the link between home, parish church, and new parish schools. Literacy was the way to end an oral parish culture's mindless memorizing. In Sweden, bishops Spegel and Svedberg showed the way using modern Spenerian and Anglican moral theology. The system of Husförhör which obliged parish clergy to teach the catechism in the home, and to make a list which accurately noted down the state of religious knowledge of masters of households, their families and domestics, was sharpened by a post-war Conventicle Act (1726). In Denmark, a Conventicle Act (1741) placed similar emphasis on improving Christian knowledge in the home. Post-war pastoral work promoting Christian knowledge and literacy of parishioners became easier, because a new technology already used for prayer-books made it easier to print parts of costly folio Bibles which, like the Swedish royal Bible (1703), were either

244

Gerber, Historia derer Wiedergebohrnen in Sachsen (1725), i. 21–2.

245

‘Von einer Frau, die nach Absterben ihres einigen Sohnes ein Gesichte gehabt’, Gerber, Historia (1727), iv. 13–20. Gerber visited her in a heavy thunderstorm; lightning singed his eyebrows and hurt his eyes: he thought this led to his wearing spectacles.

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chained to pulpits, or could not be purchased by poor parishes. Cheaper print for the first time allowed bishops such as Spegel and Svedberg to contemplate the provision of parish libraries in their dioceses. Halle provided cheap Bibles based on up-to-date university scholarship for mass consumption. Francke's patron, Baron Karl Hildebrand von Canstein (1667–1712), founded a Bible institute (1710), which achieved cheap mass production in a very short time: 40,000 complete Bibles (1713–19) costing 6 Groschen, and 100,000 New Testaments (1710–17) costing 2 Groschen, each. This large print-run was a response to a demand apparent in many new ordinances issued by local rulers establishing parish primary schools and curricula. In the 1720s, Bible reading became legally obligatory in many German primary schools for the first time since the Reformation. Francke's ordinance for his school at Halle (1702) served as the basis for most school ordinances after 1725.246 Halle's printers also supplied a reader's digest of the Bible as catechisms, books containing biblical verses, songbooks, and especially homespun collections of Bible stories such as the popular Zweimal 52 biblischen Historien und Fragen (1714), written by Mencke's pupil, the Leipzig historian Johann Hübner (1668–1731). It was printed in a hundred editions (1714–1828). In this way, the Bible became a popular vernacular household book accessible to young and old.

III. Pietism as a Post-War Ofcial Programme Pastoral reform would never have taken hold, had it not received tacit patronage from King Frederick IV of Denmark, and official patronage from his pious successor, Christian VI (1730–46), and from Frederick William I (1713–40) of Brandenburg-Prussia; and benefited also from a more tolerant religious climate in post-war, post-Caroline Sweden, and post-1710 Romanov Livonia and Estonia. The tendency to see only the misanthropic and disciplinary in court Pietism summed up in Holberg's witticism, that Copenhageners changed from being gay like calves to being as serious as old cats after Christian VI's accession (1730), hides the way post-war parish clergy took to a Spenerian and Hallesian piety of

246

Söhngen (ed.), Bleibende Bedeutung des Pietismus, 14–15; R. Gawthrop and G. Strauss, ‘Protestantism and Literacy’, Past & Present, 104 (1984), 50–8.

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doing.247 This brought parish clergy closer to the pew and home. Devotional literature became consciously Christocentric; there was a fresh appeal to an upright life and moral integrity influenced by Anglican and Dutch moral theology as much as by Halle; and there was a new homespun and neighbourly warmth in a family circle of piety which figures connected with German Enlightenment such as Kant (1724–1804), or his pupil Herder (1744–1803), looked back on later with great affection. In Denmark, the link Halle-Berlin-Copenhagen was apparent already in the appointment as court chaplain, in 1704, of the Prussian provost of St Peter, Cölln an der Spree (1688–1704), Frantz Julius Lütkens (1650–1712). With Queen Louise (Mecklenburg-Güstrow 1667–1721), he opened a school for poor children in his vicarage, helped found the first Danish Mission College, patronized the first missionaries to Tranquebar, introduced confirmation to Copenhagen's German parish, St Peter, and influenced the work of Copenhagen parish clergy such as Christen Worm (1672–1737) and Frands Thestrup (1653–1735) in founding Copenhagen's first parish schools in their respective city parishes (1702–17). Their statutes provided the model for Copenhagen's modern communal schools. These pious city clergy saw Hallesian practice as the best model to stamp out ignorance, and to answer the question of what to do with the large numbers of beggars and orphans visible in wartime Copenhagen streets and in other Danish market towns. A new Poor Law (1706) was supplemented by an ordinance (1708), which made catechism obligatory in town and country on Sundays after the main service, and set aside days during the week when schoolmaster and deacon catechized. The new Hallesian professional spirit entered Danish parish church and school also via German culture in the Helstat's duchies, Slesvig and Holsten. German school ordinances such as Saxony-Eisenach's (1705) were used in the first Danish parish schools (after 1690) by a pious Danish nobility (Bille, Gyldenstjerne, Levetzau, Lützow, Ramet, Reedtz, Schack, Trolle, Wind) on their respective estates.248 They were influenced by their Hallesian German cousins. The task became easier in peacetime. A post-war generation of pious bishops helped. The Bishop of Aarhus (1714–38), Johannes Ocksen

247

‘Man haver een Tiid seet Indbyggere lystige som Kalve, en anden Tiid aerbaare og alvorlige som gamle Katte’, Holberg, Epistola, No. 72.

248

Larsen, Den danske skoles historic, i. ch. 6.

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(b. 1667), from 1707 close to Lütkens as second court chaplain, had pointed out already, at a diocesan meeting he convened in the autumn of 1714, that sound primary education was the foundation of future welfare in church and state. He asked his diocesan clergy to find out the number and quality of schools, and to report. Ocksen's subsequent proposals, shelved for financial reasons by a war-conscious government in 1717, provided the model of primary school reform in the period 1720–40. It advanced, as did that in the 1690s, with pious court and noble family patronage. Many village schools were built by pious Danish-German court noble families such as Danneskjøld, Holstein, and Reventlow, and a new service nobility (Boysset, Gersdorf, Gabet, Güldencrone, Høg, Kaas, Plessen, Rosenørn, and Rostgaard). Ocksen was also supported in his reform programme by fellow Copenhagen clergy reformers like Worm and Thestrup, who had been appointed bishops of Sjælland (1711–37), and Aalborg (1709–35): the main diocese of north-eastern Jutland. Worm played an important part in the foundation of the royal primary schools (Rytterskolerne) of Frederick IV, and in commissions reforming Copenhagen University theology and education under Christian VI; Thestrup attained fame as a warm-hearted catechist (he had already made catechism obligatory, in 1712, in his diocese), who used modern Hallesian and Anglican moral theology. Their pastoral work was facilitated by translation of Spener's Catechism in 1728 (second and third editions 1730, 1740).249 Pietist restoration of the Danish church was institutionalized in the decade 1730–40. But the sesquipedal title given to a new central authority, the General Church Inspection Committee (Generalkirkeinspektionskollegiet, 1737), was not just another example of Danish absolutism. It really strengthened the arm of these reforming bishops by improving visitation as an effective form of communication with parish clergy and parishioners. Visitation diaries and a code of practice were introduced to ensure better information about the material condition of diocesan clergy, their training, how they preached, instructed parish children in Christian doctrine, and conducted house visits. Annual reports on parishioners were made obligatory. This fresh wind of pastoral enquiry and action swept the mid-eighteenth-century Danish episcopate: Peder Hersleb (1689–1757), bishop of Sjælland (1738–57); his son-in-law, the

249

Ibid. 177–215; Neiiendam, Pontoppidan, ii. 71, 76, 258.

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ecclesiastical historian, Ludvig Harboe, who succeeded him as bishop until 1783; and two bishops of Jutland: Peder Hygom (1692–1764), bishop of Aarhus (1739–64), and the famous hymnologist Hans Adolph Brorson, bishop of Ribe (1741–64).250 Copenhagen's theology faculty was also refashioned in a Hallesian spirit, though Hallesian public and ecclesiastical law never quite replaced a Danish royal tradition of training parish clergy as unpaid agents of local parish government. Copenhagen University's new statutes of 31 March 1732 (replaced in 1788) refashioned its theology faculty.251 Four professors teaching scripture and doctrine were supplemented by a fifth, who taught church history as an essential requirement for the first time of the achievement of laudabilis in finals. The bishop of Sjælland, the third professor, given his burden of pastoral work, was allowed to pay someone else to give his lectures. Staff workload, lectures, and length of training were professionalized; public examination in Copenhagen's consistory, and a trial written sermon thereafter were introduced. Understanding and explanation replaced learning by rote. Like Halle, an emphasis was put on reading Hebrew and Greek, and explaining the historical books of the Old Testament and the entire New Testament. The abusive confessional tone in theses was banned. Teaching became almost publicly accountable. Similar measures designed to put an end to ignorance of Reformation Christianity and widespread parochial disrespect of church and state appeared at the second anniversary of the Danish Reformation (1736). A Sunday observance ordinance (1735) was complemented by the new rite of confirmation (1736). In 1738, the year that ‘comedies’ were forbidden in Copenhagen theatres much to Holberg's disgust, Pontoppidan's Hallesian Danish Catechism, Truth which is unto Godliness (Sandhed til Gudfrygtighed), 1737, replaced Spener's as a national catechism. Christian primary education was made obligatory nationally in 1739. Parishioners and parishes became recordable: Denmark-Norway was the first country in Europe to make annual returns on the number of births, deaths, and marriages in parishes (1733–5). But, as happened with so much eighteenth-century legislation, Danish official Pietism, however important as a factor developing modern Danish citizenship, was limited by an environment where parish oral culture confronted an

250

Ibid. 48 passim ; Kornerup (ed.), Mynster Visitatsdagbøger.

251

Københavns Universitet, v. 216–19.

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educated Latin-trained clergy. Spoken and written Danish became national for the first time after 1750. In more ‘orthodox’ Sweden, Spener's mild pastoral Pietism struck roots also in wartime (c. 1700) amongst urban parish clergy in the capital, Stockholm (not at the Caroline anti-Pietist court); in harbour towns such as Gothenburg and Karlskrona situated on trade routes with Denmark and Germany, and on the north Bothnian coast at Umeå. Swedish pastoral reform was a response to a demand for spiritual nourishment in the hard years before and after defeat at Poltava (1709). Pietism became a religious fashion in Charles XII's army amongst field chaplains, army officers, soldiers, and families, and amongst the Swedish prisoners-of-war at Tobolsk (Ch. 7). They returned in 1721 with Francke's Gospel. At home, parish and senior clergy such as Svedberg realized that the customary mix of state and church in moral and disciplinary matters was no longer tenable. Anglican and Rostock pastoral theology (Groβgebauer's insistence on Early Church male and female diacony, and better primary education) was popular amongst clergy who did not see theology taught by a learned clergy (Lärostånd) as the way to promote godliness amongst parishioners. Inner sanctity and personal spontaneous prayer became popular values. But, with the exception of a brief awakening in Umeå under pastor Nils Grubb (1681–1724), after 1713, owing to the clergy's identity as an established estate of the realm and censorship, such Pietist ideas remained the preserve of a few.252 On the other hand, Pietism did spread as a growing Hallesian mood of pastoral renewal amongst parish clergy (initially urban), and amongst senior civil servants and burghers sitting in post-war parliaments. All saw the importance of Hallesian teaching for modern citizenship. Leaders in Stockholm were the chief pastors: Herman Schröder (1676–1744) at St Catherine (1718–25), an important correspondent with London's SPCK as bishop of Kalmar after 1732; Erik Tolstadius (1693–1759) at Skeppsholm, and the clergy and curates of Stockholm's Storkyrko, Kungsholm, and St Mary parishes. They also influenced Finnish clergy in east Bothnian coastal parishes. Their Spenerian and Franckean piety was one which stressed a need to know the sermon—it became usual after Sunday service to stand at the altar facing the congregation and explain the

252

Pleijel, Schwedische Pietismus, 70–5, 110–13. A Hallesian list (1711) gave c. 40 supporters, ibid. 203–4.

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contents of the sermon—and a pastoral spirituality, which used new translations of Arthur Dent and John Bunyan, and Hallesian hymns contained in a new anonymous hymnal, Mose och Lamsens wisor, published at Stockholm in 1717 (reissued 1720, 1724, 1727). A third of sixty-one hymns in this hymn-book (the title of which is from Revelation 15: 3) were taken from Freylinghausen's Halle hymnal (1704). Though it did not replace the authorized Swedish hymn-book (1698), it became very popular, together with another hymn-book (later published as part two), Evangeliske läro och bönepsalmer (1724), whose 110 hymns included for the first time hymns by Arnold and ‘radical’ Pietists such as Arnold's disciple, Johann Conrad Dippel (1673–1734), ‘Christianus Democritus’, and Johann Wilhelm Petersen (1649–1727).253 Important in changing religious mood were the prisoners of war who returned. Several sat in parliament. Already in the second parliament of 1720, Pietist congregational politics appeared as an insistence on parishioners having more influence on clergy appointments; on laity participating with clergy in elections of bishops, and pleas for the appointment of lay assessors in cathedral chapters which they had noticed in German, Livonian, and Estonian consistories. Pietism now became a parliamentary issue—especially in the parliament of 1723—between a clergy who wished to preserve their political privilege as an estate of the realm and Sweden's diocesan structure of government, and Hallesian congregationalism built on modern natural law (via Hallesian teaching in Reval and Riga) promoted by influential Pietist ministers such as Josias Cederhielm (1675–1729), who had experienced captivity at Tobolsk, and had returned to become secretary of state (1721), and Swedish ambassador to Russia (1724–6).254 Five questions put by Swedish clergy in 1724 to Buddeus in Jena are indicative of changing assumptions. Should clergy alone decide in matters of faith? Buddeus thought so, but he wanted room for parishioners to say something. How did one best regulate church discipline? Buddeus thought the Swedish king should order his clergy not to teach theoretical knowledge (theology), but awaken parishioners' consciences, and lead them to a living faith. Above all, Buddeus emphasized the need for a ‘reborn’ pastorate. How did they best defend themselves? The best defence was to devote attention to

253

Stockholm: ibid. 100–7; Pietist hymn-books: Liedgren, Svensk psalm, 342–78.

254

Pleijel, Schwedische Pietismus, 87, 95, 113 passim.

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the improvement of the religious and moral tone of their country. How should they treat other religious persuasions such as the Reformed? Buddeus interestingly enough stood for uniformity, given the successful advance of the Reformed church. How did one improve education and Christian knowledge? Buddeus wanted parish schools to be filled with pious teachers. Typical too was a proposal in 1730 by the councillor David Silvius (d. 1732), which called for Pufendorfian and Thomasian congregationalism.255 However, if Pietism as a political programme of church reform failed in Sweden after 1730 simply because conservatism amongst bishops and clergy in parliament proved too strong, new standards of pastoral care, and a new personal and sentimental spirituality, became influential amongst many Swedish parish clergy in a post-war religious climate of the kind which Linné represented. East Prussia and her capital, Königsberg, experienced a pattern identical to that of Denmark of pious urban pastoral work. Heinrich Lysius (1670–1736), who was, like Lütkens, close to Spener, was appointed in 1702 director of the royal Collegium Fridericianum modelled on Halle's orphanage; in 1709, professor of theology; and in 1721, parish priest of the Löbenicht city parish, which was linked to this senior professorship. Ludolf, who left Copenhagen to visit Lysius in May 1704, thought Lysius personified Halle's new spirit of the universal church. Lysius, like Lütkens, tried to reduce the gap between theology and the parishioner. In the decade 1720–30 he improved pastoral care by ensuring that the Bible was in the hands both of ordinands and parish clergy; by introducing deanery conferences for parish clergy to exercise their biblical knowledge; by Gebetsverhör (repetition of the Sunday Epistle in church); and by regular catechism. It was pastoral work which received the warm support of a king and court who wished to establish a Protestant new monarchy. Pietism became, as in Denmark, an official policy of staffing in 1730.256 Hallesian ordinands such as Abraham Wolff (1680–1731), and Georg Friedrich Rogall (1701–33) were appointed to the Altstadt parish church (1727) and Königsberg cathedral (1732). Hallesians filled university chairs. One of the prominent appointments was Daniel Heinrich Arnoldt (1706–75), a pastoral theologian and church historian who wrote in the manner of Balthasar and

255

Latin text c. 1724: ibid. 227–9, commentary. 132–3; Silvius, 136–40.

256

Hubatsch, Kirche Ostpreuβens, i. 176–80, 194 passim.

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Pontoppidan. His fieldwork in Prussian parish topography, published later (1769) as the still serviceable short history of the Prussian church, and his reliable history of the local clergy, published posthumously (1777), were symptomatic of this new post-war spirit of doing amongst a new clergy generation who had been schooled by a new pastoral theology taught at Halle and Jena, and after c.1720 at Königsberg.257 They liked to co-operate with tolerant orthodox clergy such as Johann Jakob Quandt (1686–1772), head of Königsberg's consistory after 1721, and they practised a warm homespun churchmanship of doing and giving which no longer distinguished between Pietist and Orthodox Theology. They were also a post-war generation who feared unrest associated with ‘separatism’ in ports such as Copenhagen and Königsberg which acted as havens for Enthusiasm of a kind connected with Danish subjects such as Otto Lorentzen Strandiger (1650–1724), or Holger Paulli (1644–1714), active in Copenhagen and Slesvig (c.1700–20). Lütkens and Lysius feared the possibility of conventicles becoming ecclesiolae. Lütkens thus supported Bishop Henrik Bornemann and like-minded Copenhagen clergy in passing a conventicle act on 2 October 1706, and in 1728 Lysius forbade daily prayer meetings in Königsberg's Collegium Fridericianum, arguing that it was better to attend the Sunday sermon in one's parish church. In East Prussia, Pietist reform was patronized, as was its Danish counterpart, by the royal family and pious—in this case, Reformed—nobility: Frederick William I's brother-in-law, Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Dessau. He bought several large estates in 1721 in East Prussia's north-eastern corner, on which be built both churches and schools, and introduced modern farming methods. The same work and patronage was carried out by Reformed noble families like the Dohnas and the Dönhoffs. Different to Denmark, but similar to neighbouring Courland, Livonia, and Estonia, was an East Prussian landscape of sparsely settled large country parishes, often uniting sixty to eighty villages, which had been decimated by plague (1709, 1711) and war (until 1721). These parishes also included substantial Polish and Lithuanian-speaking minorities. Ordinands educated at Halle and a new like-minded Königsberg, and Hallesian mission, found a rich new field for pastoral activity.

257

Ibid. 202, 532–3. Arnoldt, ‘Ist aber je ein Jahrhundert reich an Verordnungen, die in Kirchensachen ergangen, gewesen, so ist es das gegenwärtige’ (1769), ibid. 206.

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In the two decades 1720–40, homespun Pietism of a kind personified by Königsberg's first Preuβische Hausbibel (1734), was spread in the language used at home by post-war Pietist clergy. Lithuanian (1718) and Polish (1728) seminaries modelled on Halle were installed at Königsberg to train parish clergy for this pastoral work. In 1727 a combined New Testament and Psalter with German and Lithuanian parallel text (reprinted 1730, 1739), a Lutheran Lithuanian liturgy, Catechism, and children's postil, were printed. Cost in poor rural parishes was met by the first parish libraries (as in Sweden) installed by royal decree in 1732, and by the limited purse of both senior and parish clergy. In 1732, a Polish Lutheran hymn-book (1684) was reprinted (new editions 1735, 1742), and a Polish Halle Bible was reprinted at Königsberg (1738). But ethnicity remained an almost insoluble problem. Halle's German clergy, schooled by High German catechisms, did not fare well in Lithuanian- and Polish-speaking parishes. Parish clergy found the language of local cultures as difficult as had their predecessors. It remained for the next generation (active 1740–60) Moravian settlers who seemed more willing to learn Lithuanian or Polish, and hold prayers (Stundenhalter) in homes and in the open while parishioners were at work in fields, to build bridges across to ethnic minority parishioners. Also different from Denmark was the common ecclesiastical history of East Prussia, Courland, Livonia, and Estonia as a former church province of the Teutonic Order, and a sense of common Lutheran brotherhood versus CounterReformation Poland. This was a local Lutheran world which lived on its own, if communication by ships and cargoes is discounted. Berlin was a remote modern capital on the map before the first Partition of Poland (1772). Official Pietism in East Prussia, its manner and the problems it faced, was thus similar to that of neighbouring post-war Livonia and Estonia, though the wasteland caused by famine, war, and plague meant that religious Rétablissement took hold a decade later (c.1740–50) in Livonia and Estonia. Livonian and Estonian towns provided little help (1710–30) to Pietist clergy reformers, because archives and records were almost completely destroyed. German barons hid their faces at the thought of the job before them. Post-war visitation started first in 1727, but until 1743 it was hampered by rows about who was competent to carry out visitation, given German and Swedish church order, and a terrain similar to East Prussia consisting of large parishes and sparse

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settlement. Impecunious urban magistracies and baronial patrons hesitated. The rebuilding of parish churches, even in the capitals Riga and Reval, got off to a poor start after 1725. In the countryside, less was done by patrons who had insufficient means to restore their own manor houses. There were still only a few stone manor houses governing a countryside consisting of rude huts, and a large population of wandering beggars and orphans in 1750. On the other hand one can be too pessimistic. Parish registers and chronicles which have survived show a caring German pastorate, a tradition of giving by German baronial families, and a local church which had benefited from Swedish government which had tried to provide an ethnic homiletic literature before the Great Northern War broke out. A new post-war generation of Pietist ordinands schooled at Halle, Jena, and Königsberg thus arrived in vacant parishes to build on a modern tradition which was not entirely forgotten. Many ordinands gained appointment as tutors to local noble families who had warmed to Spenerian and Franckean churchmanship via Halle's like-minded extended family of noble correspondents. Notable were the Gutsleffs, the Hallarts at Volmar (Valmiera), and the Campenhausens of Kudum, Orellen, and Lenzenhof, who subsequently became patrons of Moravian missionaries (Ch. 11). In a short time, Hallesian tutors filled many vacant livings, and important senior posts. This was also an urban Hallesian generation which filled the posts of clergyman, headmaster, schoolmaster, organist, and cantor at Reval, Riga, Dorpat, and Narva in the same way as they did at Copenhagen and Königsberg. Amongst many notable reformers were Johann Fischer's son, Jakob Benjamin Fischer (1684–1744), general superintendent of Livonia (after 1736); Christoph Friedrich Mickwitz (1696–1748), a Königsberger trained at Halle (1715–19), chaplain and tutor (recommended by Berlin's Pietist reformer, Porst) to the pious Campenhausen family (1721–2), senior at Reval after 1724; another Hallesian, Anton Thor Helle (1683?–1748), vicar from 1713 of St Jürgen outside Reval; Eberhard Gutsleff senior (1681–1724), and his son (d. 1749), successively pastors of Reval's Holy Spirit church.258 These were clergy who shared a sense of spiritual brotherhood, and kept close contact with

258

J. Juhkentaal, ‘Pietism and its Significance’, Estonia Christiana, 155–62; Mickwitz's (1908) and Helle's (1911) biographies by Winkler; Schaudinn, Deutsche Bildungsarbeit, 25 passim.

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Halle via correspondence and visits. Like similar-minded colleagues in Denmark and East Prussia, they valued visits to parishioners' homes, insisted on better schooling, and issued a cheap and easily available homiletic literature. Mickwitz, who wrote of Reval and Estonia as his ‘Malabar’, pioneered better education in Reval, founding a city school (Freischule), and after 1724 restoring Reval's cathedral school (burnt down in 1684; run as a garrison after 1691); Helle popularized Hallesian hymns in an Estonian hymnbook (1721), though it was not used until 1726 at Reval, owing to its hostile initial reception by orthodox clergy. He also produced an Estonian grammar with Eberhard Gutsleff (1732), an Estonian version of Freylinghausen's Heilsordnung (Jummala Nou, 1727), and an Estonian Bible (1739).259 But Pietist restoration, here as elsewhere, was hampered by local church environment and custom. The first Livonian school visitation (1735–6) organized by Fischer showed how poor were Lutheran schooling, and knowledge of Luther's catechism in a countryside with few people, scattered farms, large parishes, and where two Estonian dialects were spoken (north and south regions), as well as Latvian. Previous work by Fischer's father had ground to a halt. Clergy such as Mickwitz therefore built on what was still available. Copies of the 1690 edition of Fischer senior's Latvian Bible, which were found by chance in 1747 in an ice-storage room in Riga cathedral's garden, were distributed free of charge to local parishes. Fischer junior eventually published a second Latvian edition at Königsberg (1739), after the loss of his father's Riga press. But, on the whole, this generation of clergy faced the same problem of language training as did their predecessors: few ever mastered difficult Estonian and Latvian. Halle, too, had its limits. The Moravians, it seems, were quicker in learning the language, and more responsive as lay preachers in making friends with peasant families. They also involved the locals in the building of their own prayer houses in and around Reval and Dorpat (c.1738), two years after Zinzendorf's visit to both cities. A Latvian Moravian hymnbook printed in Königsberg in 1739, and its revised edition 1742, called by Latvians a handy ‘pennyworth book’ (Ohrtes Grahmata),

259

Juhkentaal, 161–2. Gutsleff and Helle also wrote a concise Estonian course for Hallesians: Kurtzgefasste Anweisung zur Ehstnischen Sprache (Halle, 1732). ‘Reval oder Estland mein Malabar war’, Mickwitz's letter to an Indian missionary, 1728, Winkler, Mickwitz, 4–5.

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exemplified this cheap and warm gathered Moravian chapel piety.260 But these were beginnings only. A serviceable Lutheran religious framework and literature in Estonian and Latvian was really a feature of the period after 1770 in provinces where Czarina Catherine had forbidden Moravian mission (1743–64).

IV. The Catholic Christian Year in Church and Home Parish worship in Lutheran Germany (excepting a simpler main service with sermon in Württemberg and Strasburg), and Scandinavia was coloured until 1770—in some German states and imperial cities such as Augsburg and Nuremberg beyond 1800—by the cycle of the Catholic Christian year, the red letter days and a few local saints' days contained in the Catholic Proper of the Saints. It continued too in German cathedral cities and towns containing collegiate foundations, which used Luther's sung Latin liturgy contained in his Formula Missae. What one grew up with, one liked emotionally and aesthetically, and this remained stronger amongst average parishioners used to corporate worship than a Pietist demand for understanding an unceremonious Reformation Gospel. To change the habitual was also virtually impossible—even in 1800—given an almost sacrosanct Jus liturgicum of princes and magistrates, and the continued usage (as reissues) of rites contained in sixteenth-century church orders and local ordinances. The cycle of an official Christian Year beginning on the first Sunday in Advent in church and home was valid everywhere. It sanctified life and work, and gave a sense of continuity, however indifferent parishioners were towards public worship. In Lutheran Germany, each of the major festivals of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun consisted of three holidays; the minor festivals of the Christian year of one day, or, if the days of the Apostles were observed, of half-days. Sweden was more conservative. Red-letter days in the Roman Missal, which survived the Reformation, continued in Sweden's Church Law and service-book, and in many evangeliaries and almanacs. These were closely linked to rural economic activity such as the major markets in spring and summer. In addition to the three major festivals, collects, Epistle and Gospel, and hymns (until legislative reform in 1772), were prescribed for New Year's Day, Epiphany, Holy Innocents' Day, the Conversion

260

Schaudinn, 95.

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of St Paul, the three Marian feasts (Candlemas, Annunciation, and Visitation of the Virgin Mary), Maundy Thursday (Skärtorsdagen), Ascension, the Transfiguration, St John the Baptist, St Michael and All Angels, All Saints, and the days of the Twelve Apostles. There were two series of texts for Rogation days. Also Nordic saints such as Bengt (Benedictus), Agda (Agatha), Malin (Margaret), and Barbro (Barbara) were included in almanacs (1691–1709). These remained fixed for a further 150 years after the privilege of printing the alamnac was bestowed (1749) on the Swedish Academy.261 Catholic tradition survived also, because Lutheran parish worship continued on the whole in medieval churches in town and country. Sequestration of endowments by prince and city at the Reformation, and the passing of churches into the hands of noble patrons, hindered renovation and new building. A constant theme in eighteenth-century visitation reports was the failure of patrons to maintain or renovate churches. Though dark, cold, and often too small (galleries frequently had to be added), the medieval parish church remained a hallowed place where a peasant or burgher family celebrated, using a family pew, the rites of birth, marriage, and death, and registered. Gerber noted in Saxon village and home-town parishes a love of bells (the custom of Wetterleuchten was also widespread), attractively decorated altars, lighted candles, and vestments. Plenty of people were willing to give for decoration. Darkness in medieval churches was feared. A sense of occasion and the festive in ritual mattered. Entries in parish registers and chronicles recording gifts corroborate Gerber's views.262 The accustomed world one grew up in ruled a Catholic order of public worship. In the countryside, Luther's simpler Deutsche Messe consisted of a small stock of memorized de tempore Reformation hymns (hymn-boards hardly existed) led by cantor or verger facing the congregation. Gerber wrote of his childhood, where eight of Luther's hymns only were sung on Sundays, year in, year out. He cited the case of a peasant who had visited Halle (c.1697/8). and had noticed that the entire congregation used hymn-books. He liked this so much that he purchased one and brought it to his village church. His elderly vicar asked him where he had purchased it, why he had

261

Graff, Auflösung, i. 112; Lindberg, Kyrkans heliga år, 437–8, 474; Lithberg, Almanackan, 59.

262

Gerber, Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen, 16–17, 115, 179; Danish similarity: F. Elle Jensen, Pietismen i Jylland, 13–34.

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brought it to church, and, delivering a severe rebuke, forbade its use. A hymn-book was all right for the cantor, but not for a parishioner. The case ended in court with things remaining much as they had been.263

V. A New Interest in the Shape of the Liturgy However, it would be an error to think of the liturgy as being static. Considerable changes took place (c.1680–1750), and these determined what happened during German and Scandinavian liturgical Enlightenment (c.1770–1820). Despite the continuation of crisis and war, a specific feature of this period was the institutionalization of public worship by rulers and city fathers. They reissued sixteenth-century church orders and their rites, issued a mass of new edicts regulating public worship, and authorized new hymn-books (Lübeck 1703, Berlin 1704, Hamburg 1710) which bore their coats of arms and insignia to show the church as part of their public law.264 Clergy also tried to create a vernacular language of public worship. This brought with it the question of how to fit a vernacular service into the framework of the Latin mass: how to link vernacular hymns to the chanted liturgy, and an inherited Gregorian musical framework to an increasingly popular vernacular sermon. Reform produced an interest in the shape of local liturgies, given the prescriptive, legally binding aspect of church orders and associated rites. Commissions of senior clergy in Copenhagen and Stockholm reshaped the liturgy in the Danish rite (1685), Swedish service-book (1693), and hymn-book (1695), and Denmark's hymn-book (1699), based on Thomas Kingo's (1634–1703; bishop of Fyn from 1677) two-volume Aandelige Sjunge-Koor (1674–81). Similar work appeared in German states at about the same time. Universities and courts in Thuringia, Saxony, and Brunswick-Lüneburg (notably Celle) led the way, since these were traditional centres of Lutheran liturgical life. The first scholarly treatments (university theses with prefaces by professors) of the Lutheran rite of public worship appeared at Jena in

263

The eight hymns: ‘Vater Unser im Himmel auch’; ‘O Herre Gott dein göttlich Wort’; ‘Ach Gott vom Himmel sieh darein’; ‘Wo Gott der Herr nicht bey uns hält’; ‘Es spricht der Unweisen Mund wol’; ‘Ich ruff zu dir Herr Jesu Christ’; ‘Von Gott will ich nicht lassen’; ‘Erhalt uns Herr bei deinem Wort’, Gerber, 256–7; Graff, i. 134.

264

Mahrenholz, Evangelisches Kirchengesangbuch, 6; Röbbelen, Theologie und Frömmigkeit, 25–6; TRE, MGG, s.v. Gesangbuch.

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1705: Johannes Friderici's (1654–1726) Liturgia vetus et nova, and Caspar Calvör's (1650–1725) two-volume Rituale ecclesiasticum.265 Calvör's book served as a guide for Lutheran public worship for the next fifty years, and as a reference book for enlightened liturgical reformers at the end of the century. This study of ritual happened to coincide with Pietist debate about the essential and inessential in public worship. But ritual as an adiaphoron worried established clergy, challenged as they were by Pietist interpretation of their office, and by the spread of lay religious ‘Enthusiasm’ visible in conventicles. It became necessary to describe the Reformation rite of public worship theologically, and in a practical way to help parish congregations. Fresh historical interest in the worship of the Early Church helped to clarify Luther's views on his Reformation order of service and its relationship to Roman ceremony. Calvör, in his attempt to set the record straight with Pietism, appealed, for instance in his epilogue, to St Augustine's argument about the importance attached by congregations to the senses, colour, and the ‘affects’, and both he and Friderici, asked their professors to write prefaces defending an elaborate argument beginning with the Church Fathers.266 Johann Philipp Slevogt (1649–1727), professor of law at Jena, in his preface to Friderici argued strongly against Arnold: public worship as it had developed since the Early Church was one which trod a line between Roman abusus and enthusiastic conventicle defectus. Early Christian worship was bound to develop liturgically, though it was necessary to distinguish between divine and man-made rites. Rites changed with time; many became adiaphora, such as Old Testament circumcision, if they failed to relate to the moral law of the times. Christian worship was praise of God, and that implied a congregational devotional mood (Erbauung) which needed a sense of order and decoration.267 Calvör likened rites as salt to meat or bark to pith in his argument with Pietists (‘Itaque id sunt ceremoniae religioni, quod sal carnibus et cortex medullae’), and stressed that all rites were binding as law, whether divine or human.268 A decision to change ceremony was a matter for prince and magistrate as guardians of Christian tradition.

265

Sehling, Kirchenordnungen, i. introduction. Calvör: ‘scriptor moderatus, judiciosus, utilis prae multis’, cited in ADB ; Reichert, Protestantische Liturgik, 115, 224, 243 passim ; Graff, i. 78–9.

266

Reichert, 238.

267

Ibid. 243–8.

268

Rituale ecclesiasticum, ii. 717; Reichert, 239.

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An overview of Lutheran public worship was more or less impossible in the early eighteenth century, but compilation in catalogues bibliotheca began gradually. The first was a Bibliotheca agendorum, published (1718) by the superintendent of Celle, Christian Julius Bokelmann (no date), which Böhmer praised in the second edition of his Jus as necessary patient work (he knew how long Protestant legal codification took), and expressed deep regret that he had seen only a few when he began to write. Bokelmann showed that Agenda meant things to be performed, and were synonymous with Reformation church order.269 He made it clear for the first time that it was more or less impossible to say how many had appeared since the Reformation, and that there could be no normative church and liturgical order, because Reformers had taken the Gospel more seriously than both law and church ceremony. Reformation confessional writings spoke of caeremoniae, traditiones, ordinationes. With the consolidation of the Reformation in the late sixteenth century the terms Ordnung, Landesordnung, Kirchen-Ordnung included rites. It became apparent that this was historical development which had stopped c.1650. Most had appeared, linked as they were to church orders, in the sixteenth century, some during the seventeenth century, a few, like the Einrichtung der geistlichen Ampts-Geschäffte und Kirchengebethe bey der Evangelische-lutherischen Gemeine der Stadt Dantzig (1708), in the early eighteenth century. Most new editions were also simply reprints, in some cases with minor revisions, which had become necessary after the destruction of church inventory in the Thirty Years' War. An important development in this compilation was a second edition in 1726 by Bokelmann's nephew, Hermann Caspar König (1697–1756), a parish clergyman in Rinteln after 1728. König's overview was typical of a new interest shown by post-war parish clergy in the shape of Lutheran church order and its liturgy in the developing public order of new states. König insisted, ‘let all things be done decently and in order’ (1 Corinthians 14: 40): in common with his colleagues he was worried about contemporary conventicles. His edition was built on a defence, such as that of Calvör and Friderici, of a Lutheran parish clergyman's inviolable obligation to established church order, expounded in his previous Rinteln thesis (1721), De obligatione ordinationum ecclesiasticarum, which

269

Sehling, Kirchenordnungen, i, p. x passim ; Reichert, 115–16; E. S. Cyprian, Kurzer Bericht von Kirchenordnungen (Coburg, 1713).

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included an Apparatus agendorum Bokelmannius paying tribute to his uncle's patient thirty years of collecting. König's edition was the first overview of some 351 church orders and rites, and included short notes and bibliographies.270 But it was inexact as a figure for Lutheran church orders and rites, simply because the boundaries of the empire made it difficult to count German Lutheran rites. However, König exemplified a more optimistic tone amongst both clergy—he noted in his preface a new liturgical interest which even included neighbouring local senior clergy at Ratzeburg and Schwerin in Mecklenburg—and lawyers who saw the importance of liturgies as visible Protestant churchmanship since the Reformation. The best local example was Gerber's posthumous account of public worship in Saxony (1732) published by his son: a compromise typical for the time between Pietist criticism of externals and a parish clergyman's reverence for parish tradition summed up by Gerber's reference to I Corinthians 14, and evident in his respect for the visual conservatism of Saxon parishioners. If ceremony was nichts gelegen, Gerber stressed that he had never extinguished one of the candles put on the altar.271 Lawyers contributed also. Böhmer, who made Patristics his hobby, took a great interest in the shape of the liturgy. The same was true of Johann Jakob Moser, who published texts of rites in his two-volume Corpus juris Evangelicorum ecclesiastici (Züllichau, 1737–8), but Moser, like Böhmer, had only an incomplete knowledge—he included only a few sixteenth-century rites—given the state of the art. These liturgical assessments, such as the new musical dictionary (Bibliothec 1732) compiled by Bach's colleague, the Weimar town organist (from 1707), Johann Gottfried Walther (1684–1748), were symptomatic of a fresh professional look at the development of Lutheran public worship since the Reformation.272 An authorized liturgy became part of new royal law in Denmark-Norway and Sweden-Finland (c.1680–1700). The Danish rite Kirkeritual (1685) followed Danske Lov; the Swedish service-book (Handbok) (1693), Sweden's Church Law. A careful blend of tradition with modern vernacular Danish is apparent in the way Denmark's authorized royal rite was consciously modelled on the Anglican Prayer Book (1660) as a uniform

270

Sehling gives 246 titles, Kirchenordnungen i, p. x; Reichert 264, Protestantische Liturgik, 257; adiaphora, ibid. 256–7.

271

Gerber, Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen, 2.

272

Musikalisches Lexikon oder musikalische Bibliothec etc. (Leipzig, 1732), which defined ‘Musica ecclesiastica’ as ‘gottesdienstliche Musik’, s.v. MGG, Kirchenmusik.

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national rite. Bishop Bagger used the powerful Anglican ordination formula to emphasize the divine authority of a bishop's and clergyman's office; the Anglican word ‘bishop’ was used instead of ‘superintendent’ in the royal order of rank (1693). The order of service used in the church of Our Lady (Vor Fru) in Copenhagen served as a national model, like the usages of Canterbury and York in England. Tradition was preserved in a lack of distinction between word and sacraments. A new scriptural and pastoral emphasis interlinked the office, scripture, and cure of souls, with the Lutheran sacraments of baptism and communion.273 Danish was used to help increase participation by the congregation. The Latin mass used since Bishop Niels Jespersson's (1518–87) Graduale (1573) came to an end. If the mass principle was kept in the main Sunday morning service, the introit was replaced by organ music and a Danish prayer of institution; the Gloria and Hallelujah by a Danish hymn; and the gradual by a Gospel sequence. The Creed and Kyrie were now sung as Danish hymns, and hymns were introduced before and after the sermon, before communion, and instead of the Agnus Dei. Worship ended with a hymn reflecting the Gospel. A sacerdotal sung liturgy was thus replaced by vernacular congregational hymns reflecting the didactic de tempore principle visible in pericopes, Kyrie hymns, Christian and Easter sequences, litany, Te Deum, and responses year in, year out. The didactic element was strengthened in a main service in town and country which followed a vernacular order of pericopes for Gospel and Epistle throughout the Christian year. Scriptural authority was emphasized by ordering the congregation to stand when the words of the Bible were spoken. It was expressive of a time when proper schooling began, and schoolbooks were first issued in Danish. The Danish rite reduced the Latin Ordinary of the Mass significantly in favour of congregational participation. The organ prelude was also to be as short as possible; on the three major festivals, the rubric laid down chanting in Danish rather than in Latin by the priest. It remained in force until enlightened reform in the 1780s with additions only being made to Bagger's altar-book of 1688, and by the introduction of confirmation in 1736.274

273

Borregaard, Kirkeritual, 152, 177; Molesworth, Account of Denmark in 1692, 253; Vor Frue: Danske Lov 2. 4. 4; Om Præsternis Embede med Tienisten i Kirken og Prædiken 2. 4; Om Præsternis Embede med Sacramenterne og lønlig Skriftemaal 2. 5.

274

Abrahamsen, Liturgisk Musik i den danske kirke, 135–47.

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A similar development took place in Sweden, though a vernacular liturgy had appeared already at the Swedish Reformation. Olaus Petri's (1494–1552) service-book was authorized as the official Swedish rite in 1614. Swedish hymns replaced the introit, Gloria, gradual, and communion chant. This continued in the service-book of 1693 which remained in use until 1811. On the other hand, in parish churches Swedish hymns were usually led by a verger-cantor with a stringed or wind instrument (after 1700 a violin or clarinet), standing in the middle of the nave, owing to the poor state of parish musicianship, difficulty in adapting Swedish to a Latin liturgy (a tradition of Gregorian psalmody lived on in popular song in parts of Sweden, Finland, Denmark, and Norway into the 1840s), and a basic lack of Swedish texts and melodies.275 Liturgical continuity can be seen in the word used for the main Sunday morning service, and even for the main service without communion in the revised service-book of 1811, Högmässa. As in Denmark, the 1693 service-book placed much emphasis on a vernacular understanding of the Bible, perhaps partly because of a need to stress confessional unity in the face of a residual fear of Reconquista carried out by Counter-Reformation Poland. It was visible in mentioning the articles accepted at Uppsala in 1593; in the inclusion of an additional chapter on the baptism of Jews, Turks, and other infidels; and in the rite of exorcism and obligatory sign of the cross at baptism. As in Denmark, the Caroline service-book's normative character as an orrubad regel och rättesnöre was spelt out.276 An authorized hymn-book followed in 1695, and a hymn-book with melodies in 1697. In both Scandinavian monarchies these new national rites put special emphasis on the complementary role of worship in the parish church and in the home, in knowing the catechism, and the examination of Christian knowledge by the parish clergyman in the home.

VI. Church Architecture: From Latin Choir to Congregational Nave Important secular forces also shaped a vernacular liturgy of congregational participation. Parish churches ruined in the Thirty Years' War had to be rebuilt and refurbished quickly and cheaply, owing

275

Rodhe, Svenskt Gudstjänstliv, 7–27; Schubert, Schwedens Kirchenverfassung, i. 24–31; Moberg, Kyrkomusikens historia, 409–24.

276

22 July 1693, Bælter, Kyrcko-Ceremonierna, 102–3; Rodhe, 18–19.

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to a lack of endowment. Restoration gave a chance to accommodate parishioners better to see and hear the clergyman at the altar and in the pulpit. Architects reflected on how church architecture shaped Protestant public worship and vice versa. The Swabian Sunday service with a sermon (Predigtgottesdienst) was influential. Joseph Fürttenbach (1591–1667), in the book Kirchen-Gebaw (1649), comparing seating arrangements in the first German theatre built at Ulm (1640–1) by his father, asked for the first time (with a sympathetic eye for his parish congregation), what the purpose of a Protestant church was. A Protestant architectural relationship of choir to nave had to serve liturgical centralization of the church round altar and pulpit: either as a separate altar with pulpit above it on the east wall, or as a combined altar tabernacle (Kanzelaltar).277 Equally influential in shaping this new ecclesiology was the mathematician, Leonhard Christoph Sturm (1669–1719), Oberbaudirektor at the court of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (1711–19).278 He never built a church, but his new architectural theory became as influential as Pietism which he espoused in changing German educated opinion on Protestant ecclesiology. Sturm, a mercurial Hallesian soul influenced by criticism of adiaphora by Stryk, Thomasius, and especially Arnold, whose views, it seems, made him hesitant to build churches, believed in the gathered congregation of committed believers of the Early Church. Was it necessary at all to give architectural shape to Christian worship? Sturm organized prayers in his home, gave readily to the Tranquebar mission, and squabbled publicly with his home parish clergy and university colleagues in Frankfurt an der Oder, Schwerin, and Rostock over Catholic survivals visible as Lutheran private confession, communion, and exorcism at baptism. Refusal to communicate at Frankfurt an der Oder led to his excommunication (1702), and his conversion to the Reformed church. Furore, which rumbled on until 1750, broke out at Rostock on publication (1714) of his Mathematical Proof of Holy Communion (Mathematischer Beweis von dem heiligen Abendmahl). Sturm had alleged an incorrect Lutheran translation from the Greek of the words of institution, and condemned wafers as papist usage.279 This controversy coloured his Arnoldian preface and epilogue to his novel, thirty-nine

277

Mai, Kanzelaltar, 15–19, 51, 52; criticism by Galvör (1705), ibid. 22, 157.

278

Schmaltz, Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs, iii. 148–51; Mai, 53, 73–7.

279

Collected controversy: Sturmianae de sacra coena controversiae (Landesbibliothek Schwerin), Schmaltz, iii. 149.

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page folio (twenty-two copper plates) Vollständige Anweisung alle Arten von Kirchen anzugeben (Augsburg, 1718). For the first time it compared Protestant with Catholic churches, and argued for a common Protestant (Lutheran and Reformed) architectural style. Sturm aimed to replace parish worship in Gothic churches with an entirely new symmetrical congregational church freed from the past by Vitruvian geometry. Sturm argued that the classical theatre best represented the ‘essential’ in Protestant worship versus Catholic display, and solved the problem of seating a large parish congregation. The congregation would also have a clear view of altar and pulpit. Pews and galleries were fixed so as not to disturb the service, and large windows were inserted to let in enough light through the galleries. Sturm's Pietism condemned the hallowed medieval choir to perdition: the altar facing east was a silly superstition which had originated amongst ‘heathen Persians’. Nevertheless, Sturm left space for the celebration of communion by using the pulpit-altar.280 Sturm's book became so influential because it obviously matched changing post-war fashion. It was frequently reprinted, excerpted in lexica like Zedler's (under Kirche), and in this way shaped much subsequent Lutheran church building. A new fashion for rectangular churches lacking choirs, but furnished with pews and galleries seating congregations facing pulpit-altars (court chapels, notably Stuttgart 1560–2, often led the way) began after 1648 to spread to village and home-town churches, especially in lands with craft traditions. In Thuringia, one of the most important craft landscapes, pulpit-altars fashioned for mid-seventeenth century court chapels at Callenberg, Weimar, Weiβenfels, Eisenberg, Gotha, and Saalfeld, spread to most village and home-town churches such as Arnstadt (Bach's Neue Kirche) after 1700. The same was true of village and town churches in the Saxon Vogtland and Erzgebirge; in Brandenburg, where Dutch models were used (also to make simultaneous worship easier), and in East Prussia (the parish church of Lappienen, built 1674–1703, was modelled on Leiden's Marekerk, and Königsberg's Reformed Burgkirche, built 1690–8, on both Leiden's Waardkerk and the Hague's Nieuwe Kerk), and notably via Prussian usage (the oval Reformed Hofkirche at Breslau 1747–50 in simple Dutch late

280

Grashoff, Raumprobleme des protestantischen Kirchenbaues, 10–14, 21, 33, 43; Fritsch, Kirchenbau des Protestantismus, 80–3.

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Baroque) in embattled Lutheran Silesia for the first time in the more peaceful period following Prussian conquest (1740).281 Lutheran Silesia was special in the eighteenth century. A renewed congregational Lutheranism, shaped by the Catholic Habsburg Counter-Reformation, was fashioned as a warm, coloured, and light gathered congregational church architecture (1650–1750) by Silesian master builders, joiners, and painters, though it should not be forgotten that Catholic rococo ornamentation of altars and pulpits resulted from sculptors and painters working for both Catholic and Lutheran patrons.282 This was something which Frederick William III utterly failed to understand, and paid dearly for, when he tried to introduce his combined Lutheran and Reformed Prussian liturgy after 1822. Of the three wooden Westphalian Friedenskirchen, Jauer (1654–86) and Schweidnitz (1657–8) epitomized a renewed post-war Lutheran congregationalism. Jauer sat 6,000 in three parallel naves and four locally painted emblematic galleries; Schweidnitz, served by thirty-two doors, sat 3,000 in pews, and left space for 4,500 standing. The same congregational principle was introduced to the many pilgrimage or sanctuary churches, such as Liegnitz, Brieg, Wohlau, Oels, and Kreuzberg (built 1645–68) bordering on Poland, Brandenburg, Lower Lusatia, and Saxon Upper Lusatia, whose painted galleries also expressed a new popular art interest in Pietist virtues and vices which local painters handed down to the next generation: those decorating churches after 1707 and 1740.283 In this way, the costly half-timbered Gnadenkirchen of Sagan, Freystadt, Militsch, Hirschberg, Landeshut, and Teschen (built after 1707), and 164 simple chapels (Bethäuser), often resembling barns (built 1740–52), serving both parish and district, continued this new tradition of popular gathered congregationalism (including, after c.1740, pulpit-altars) in a Catholic parishscape which forbade towers and bells, and insisted on fees being paid to the Catholic parish clergyman. Silesian gathered congregations also gave massive free-will offerings for church, vicarage, and parish school. Roughly 250 new parish churches were built, mostly by local master-builders and craftsmen (1741–1800). This was a development which can best be compared

281

Mai, 35 passim (Thuringia); 41 passim (Saxony); 62–6 (Brandenburg and East Prussia); 66 (Silesia); Grundmann, Kirchenbau in Schlesien, 57 passim.

282

Grundmann, 19–36

283

Geistliche Herzenseinbildungen in 250 Figursprüchen (Augsburg, 1688, 1692), Grundmann, 26.

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in modern times to the Scottish Presbyterian Free Church after the Disruption (1843).284 Rapidly growing cities such as Leipzig, Dresden, and Berlin brought a similar ecclesiology to refurbished city parish churches. This happened with the restoration of four city churches at Leipzig (1699–1712, Ch. 7), and in two churches which were rebuilt outside the city gates: St John at the Grimma (1695), and the Lazaret church at the Ramstadt gate (1713). In all these churches, including renovated St Thomas (1705), seating was increased considerably with pews and galleries. It is as ironic as it is easy to forget, that eighteenth-century Saxony was the true innovator of a new Lutheran congregational church architecture freed from the hand of the past. Saxon congregationalism consisting of a wellestablished tradition of common prayer, hymn-singing, and corporate parish communion combined with a Saxon practice of parish giving and craftsmanship at a time of population growth and rising post-war prosperity to fashion a corporate Lutheran ecclesiology in response to a growing Catholic Augustan court culture. A very large number of country and home-town parish churches were restored or rebuilt. Gerber noted how his parish church, Lockwitz, considered too small in 1701, was pulled down, rebuilt in stone, enlarged with several galleries, and ready for consecration as early as November 1702. His parishioners had collected 7,000 thalers for a church costing only 5,000.285 Practical-minded Saxon parishioners who wanted to hear the sermon and take communion without too much fuss helped the new argument for centralization of nave and choir as a Zentralbau in village and home-town parish churches such as Loschwitz (1705–8), Schimedeberg (1713), Forchheim (1719–21), Hohnstein (1724), Groβenhain (1735), or Lusatian Hainewalde (1705–11), Spitzkunersdorf (1712–16), and Niederoderwitz (1719–25). All these churches included pulpit-altars, and colourfully decorated galleries built by local craftsmen. Many also contained, owing to a strong musical culture, similar to that of Thuringia and Bohemia, consisting of family music and choral and congregational singing in church, local

284

Ibid. 37 passim ; Wiesenhütter, Evangelischer Kirchbau Schlesiens, 10. At the outbreak of the Seven Years' War (1756), 212 congregations had built churches. Copperprints of 164 chapels by the imperial surveyor: F. B. Werner, Perpektivische Vorstellung derer . . . concedirten Bethäuser wie auch . . . derer priviligirten Friedens- und Gnadenkirchen (Augsburg, 1748–52); Grundmann, 40–4.

285

Gerber, Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen, 55–9.

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modern organs crafted by the Silbermann family (Gottfried Silbermann, 1683–1753, built forty-eight for Saxon churches).286 Dresden epitomized this new Lutheran ecclesiology. Dresdeners who loved urban pomp and circumstance and were charmed by a ceremonious Augustan Catholic Baroque court and its new court chapel (Hofkirche) built at the enormous cost of 825,362 thalers (1738–55), wanted to express their Lutheranism also in a way which befitted a postwar culture of representation. Dresden in 1720 had expanded to the extent that city churches could no longer seat congregations adequately. For years several hundred parishioners had to sit on the floor of Dresden's Frauenkirche during Sunday worship. Four large (all seating over 3,000) Lutheran city churches—the Frauenkirche, Trinity, Kreuzkirche, and Annenkirche—were built largely by voluntary city-parish collections between 1726 and 1792. The sums were large: the Frauenkirche estimated at 82,555 thalers in 1726 cost 167,849 on completion in 1734. On 3 June 1733, the elector, much to the annoyance of Löscher and the senior consistory, also ordered money collected since the previous summer for Salzburg Protestant immigrants (28,366 thalers, 21 groschen, and 6 pfennig) to be put towards the church's completion. Kreuzkirche parishioners representing the heart of the old city (a third of which was destroyed by Frederician cannon in the Seven Years' War), showed their willingness to pay an annual 6 thalers for some thirty years to cover costs (there were also two official Saxon collections, 1764 and 1777) rising from an estimated 258,000 thalers (1763) to 462,378 on completion in 1792.287 Dresden's Frauenkirche, begun in 1726 and consecrated in 1734, built (on the model argued for by Sturm) by a local master-builder (Zimmermeister), George Bähr (1666–1738)—the first in Saxony to call himself an architect (1730)—expressed for the first time the liturgical and congregational unity of the Lutheran main Sunday parish service. Bähr gave his white, stone, square church interior the shape of an amphitheatre with fixed seating and four spacious galleries ranked above each other served by six large doors to ease access and

286

Loschwitz, Schmiedeberg, Forchheim, Hohnstein, Groβenhain were built by Bähr: Barth, Baugeschichte der Dresdner Kreuzkirche, 44–5. Silbermann was the first to organize manuals on orchestral principles: namely, Hauptwerk = Groβ, gravitätisch; Oberwerk = Scharf, spitzig, penetrant; Brustwerk = Delekat, lieblich; Pedal = Stark, durchdringend, MGG, s.v. ‘Silbermann’, col. 699.

287

Costs: Sponsel, Frauenkirche zu Dresden, 52, 82–93; Gurlitt, Stadt Dresden, 29–41, 208; Barth, Baugeschichte der Dresdner Kreuzkirche ; 6–7, 107–8.

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exit. The congregation faced a pulpit-altar and font, and behind it on the east wall, a Silbermann organ rising from floor to ceiling, which, in contrast to Sturm, Bähr had installed in keeping with the new Saxon-Thuringian custom of concert-type music in church. Large, rectangular, clear-glass windows giving plenty of reflective light were inserted in the walls, which were painted white, and the pews and galleries were decorated with plenty of gold leaf. The medieval past was past. Dr Burney, who participated at parish communion on Sunday morning, 20 September 1772, was bowled over by the nobility and elegance of Bähr's spacious and lofty church amidst the ‘utmost [Saxon post-war] indigence’, and which furnished the only case he knew of an organ placed at the east end. Very striking, he thought, was the parish congregation, near 3,000, who sang in unison melodies almost as slow as those in Anglican parish churches, but with far more musicianship, having been trained in singing the chief part of the service since childhood. One of the most decent and respectable congregations he had ever experienced provided one of the grandest choruses he had ever heard, and he noted with pleasure school choristers who frequently performed cantatas on Sundays and Festivals.288 Burney's was a tribute to the corporate spirit of the Saxon Lutheran parish church, and its brilliant, simple, Saxon architectural solution which the German Gothic-minded nineteenth-century revival simply passed by. Bähr's Frauenkirche (if there is an analogy) resembled, with its massive cupola (finished 1743), a modern Lutheran Santa Maria della Salute, or Wren's St Paul (1710) designed to dominate the city sky-line. Bähr was, as a Saxon craftsman for Lutheran church architecture, what Bach, as a Thuringian craftsman, was for Lutheran church music: a genius who gave Lutheran parish worship a shape far ahead of the times. Both suffered much hardship and controversy fashioned by the ingrained habits and legal squabbles of parishioners, city councils, and consistories. Even Bähr's great Lutheran dome encountered the criticism of safety officers, but Dr Burney noted subsequently how its ‘orbicular form . . . threw off [Frederician] balls and shells’ in the Seven Years' War; much later it also survived the firestorm created by the Allied, 1,000-bomber raid on the night of 13 February 1945, collapsing only at the following midday, simply because there was no church left to support it.289 Dresden's three

288

Burney, Musical Tour, ii. 140–1, 145–6, 149–50.

289

Ibid. 141.

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other new city churches, Trinity (1732–9), St Anne (1764–9), and especially the Kreuzkirche (1764–92), built at great expense by Bähr's saintly cousin and pupil, Johann Georg Schmidt (1707–74), were variants on this simple theme.290 Elsewhere, Bähr's genius influenced only Hamburg's St Michael (1751–2), and nearby Rellingen (1754–7). In the nineteenth century, the only successor was the beautiful parish church of Mildenau, near Annaberg (1835–9), but local architects soon cast aside Bähr's congregationalism with cost-benefit and neo-Gothic arguments. Bähr's genius resurfaced fitfully in ecclesiological debates (after c.1890) amongst clergy and architects about church and congregation in industrial Saxon cities, but by this time the eighteenth-century corporate Saxon parish church had been destroyed by the middle-class concert-hall and theatre, and by the collective secular urban force, Socialism. Bähr, however, remains the most innovative Lutheran architect in solving the problem of time and place presented by Lutheran ecclesiology. A simple architectural form could be given where Arnold and Sturm thought it could not. Restoration and building in this manner was as extensive, but far more pedestrian and ephemeral in parsimonious Berlin. Eighteen churches were added to nine medieval churches in the period 1687–1739 marked by the reigns of Frederick I and Frederick William I (nine, 1687–1712; nine, 1715–39). These churches were built rapidly to satisfy the immediate congregational needs of growing city parishes, and by royal Rétablissement, which wanted to fashion quickly a new Protestant identity. Churches were built within two years at the most using defective plans and poor materials. Frederick William I liked, unfortunately, tall grenadiers and tall spires: a city with spires, he argued, impressed and attracted visitors. His taste underlay a pious royal building programme which was later repeated by an official Berlin awakening after 1832.291 However, speedy Brandenburg-Prussian progress was ephemeral: most of these churches (the average lifespan was c.94 years) had to be rebuilt after 1800, and some lasted only a few years. Frederick William I's new Garrison church built at Potsdam (1724) collapsed as soon as 1730

290

Schmidt married Bähr's poor widow (Bähr had died of a heart attack inspecting the Frauenkirche in 1738), who had six children; he stood up for them in much litigation with the city council over unpaid fees, Barth, Baugeschichte der Kreuzkirche, 13–25.

291

Pariset, L'État et les Églises, 572–8; Wendland, Kirchengeschichte Berlins, 66. Clergyman to parishioner ratio: 1712, 1:3,388 (61,000); 1740, 1:3,333 (90,000).

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and had hastily to be rebuilt. Worse happened with Frederick William I's model city church, St Peter. St Peter was rebuilt three times with generous royal funds after 1725. The first church was ready in 1728 complete with a 344-foot spire. On 28 May 1730 at 8.30 a.m., the spire collapsed with a sound like a clap of thunder. The king ordered its Pietist provost, Reinbeck, to prove his love of God by doing everything possible to restore public worship quickly; also, the new tower was to be 400 feet: taller than Strasburg's minster.292 Reconsecration took place on 28 June 1733. Hardly two months later, on 21 August, at the end of a fine summer's day, the unfinished tower (some 250 feet) collapsed with another clap of thunder at 9.30 p.m. The king fell ill, rumour spread, the two architects Philipp Gerlach (1679–1748) and Jakob Grael (1708–40), who had already squabbled about method and competence, fell out: Gerlach accused Grael of embezzlement, and Grael was imprisoned and exiled at twenty-four hours' notice. Gerlach made hasty repairs, but bricks in the wall started to tremble: the congregation trembled too. On 25 September 1735, during morning service, plaster fell from the ceiling; the church emptied immediately. Repairs began haltingly again in 1738, but were never finished. A depressed king gave less, and at his accession, Frederick the Great stopped reconstruction. St Peter thus remained in an unfinished state until its destruction by fire in 1809. It was not rebuilt until 1847–55.293 These ephemeral churches marked a significant change in taste. Congregations wanted (as in Saxony) to hear the sermon as well as to participate in parish communion. Medieval pillars and vaulting were replaced, as elsewhere in Brandenburg-Prussia, by oblong (such as Potsdam's garrison church seating 4,000 soldiers), or cruciform churches resembling assembly rooms in Dutch classical style, and were often built by Dutch architects. Berlin's medieval cathedral (1345) was restored (1732–47) in the Lustgarten in this way (Saalbau) with galleries by a Dutchman, Johann Boumann (1706–76), appointed by the king in 1732. Pulpits were also placed in the middle of all Berlin's churches regardless of their form; the combined pulpit-altar in simple classical style became the norm.294 A vernacular congregational service, often shaped by Pietist and Reformed theology, was put in place by post-war court and burgher

292

Wendland, 69.

293

Pariset, 577–9.

294

Wendland, 69–70; Mai, 61 passim.

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fashion and wealth. What began as necessity turned into a new ecclesiology, which in turn reshaped Luther's Formula Missae.

VII. Church Music: From Gregorian to Ambrosian The Gregorian liturgical music of the Formula Missae was changed substantially by a new post-war (after 1648) court vernacular ceremonial in residences such as Dresden and Stockholm, and burgher pomp and circumstance in cities connected with Lutheran liturgical tradition like Hamburg and Leipzig. A new interest explicit in elaborate ritualized vernacular ceremonial for coronations, births, marriages and deaths of royal and high aristocratic families, elections of city councils and other municipal occasions, and the flowering of a new German opera in courts and cities, appeared. Peacetime, both after 1648 and after 1720, was also an environment of acceptance and absorption of polyphonic Venetian and Roman court and church music (such as Jesuit prayer). It became visible in an elaborate church music at Dresden's court chapel under Heinrich Schütz (1585–1672), and at Caroline Stockholm. This music was shaped too by a demand for a proper instrumental and choral ceremonial music expressed in parentations, homage, and funeral music.295 Charles XII's coronation at Uppsala cathedral (1698) indicated its presence. Four choirs of musicians were employed. They were placed on platforms over the main altar, at the west end by the organ, and on the north and south aisles of the nave. Elaborate instrumentation included an organ, a positive organ, descant and bass viols, trumpets, shawms, cymbals, drums, and timpani.296 This royal music for church and state became a link between Stockholm's court, the main towns of Sweden's imperial provinces such as Riga, or Greifswald where ‘loud’ music like the above was noted at festivals after c.1720, and at established German centres of Lutheran court and city church music such as Hamburg, Lübeck, Dresden, and Leipzig.297 Three generations of the German Düben family (1621–1714) served Stockholm's court, and they were responsible for transmitting Lübeck's church music composed

295

Schmidt, Gottesdienst am kurfürstlichen Hof zu Dresden ; Munck, ‘Keeping up Appearances: Patronage of the Arts, City Prestige, and Princely Power in Northern Germany and Denmark, 1600–1670’, German History, 6 (1988), 213–32; Moberg, Kyrkomusikens historia, 433–40, 446 passim ; Moberg, Kyrko- och hovmusik, 28, 77 passim.

296

Ibid. 28.

297

Ibid. 53, 69–73; Stralsund official ‘starke Musik . . . mit Pauken und Trompeten’, Tagebuch des Stralsunder Predigers Joh. Chr. Müller (1720–72), 157.

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by Tunder and Buxtehude (see below), and a complementary new musical theory penned by a neighbouring Hamburger, Johann Mattheson (1681–1764), to the next generation: in particular, Johan Helmich Roman (1654–1758), royal chapel master after 1727. Roman, who learnt from Handel and the Chapel Royal in London (1716–21; again on his Grand Tour 1735–7), returned with a Handelian church music designed to suit his ‘purification’ of Swedish used in public worship with Swedish hymns and cantatas (he also translated the Psalms), his introduction of the concert spirituel (1731), and later his Italianate Swedish Mass (1752).298 Modern Protestant church music to suit vernacular liturgical texts, if you leave aside musicology, was therefore an urban phenomenon expressive of secular opera and instrumental music supported by new wealth and by courts. Obvious examples were the two Lutheran Hansa cities Hamburg and neighbouring Lübeck, Leipzig, larger and little German courts such as Dresden, Weiβenfels, and Celle. From there the new fashion spread to Copenhagen, where opera started to be fashionable (c.1701/2), and to a new Swedish court and civic culture in Stockholm, and the ports of Gothenburg and Karlskrona. In Hamburg, in the cathedral of St Mary (broken up in 1805), in her four city parish churches (St James, St Peter, St Nicholas, St Catherine), also at St Gertrude and Mary Magdalene, the choral liturgy of the Formula Missae sung by choristers of the grammar school, the Johanneum, benefited from new civic wealth and interest in secular music used in a flourishing opera culture which was, by 1657, called Hamburger Musik, in the period c.1678–1740. Organ building became an art, and cantors as organists began to do programmatic rounds of the four city parish churches. After 1660, the refectory of Hamburg's cathedral was also used for weekly subscription concerts by the organists of St James (from 1655), Matthias Weckmann (1621–74), and St Catherine (from 1663), Johann Adam Reincken (1623–1722), who was visited by the young Bach in 1701. The same happened in Lübeck's cathedral, and city churches, St Mary, St Peter, St James, St Giles, and St Catherine, though St Mary, served by the choristers of the Katharineum, has earned a place in subsequent musical history as the venue for evening music-makings (Abendmusiken), a ‘spiritual drama’ (geistliche Drama) begun in the mid-1640s by its cantor (from 1641), Franz Tunder (1614–67),

298

Ibid. 44, 51, 53; Moberg, Kyrkomusikens historia, 447–50; Vretblad, Johan Helmich Roman, i. 14, 28–9, 34, 53, 88–9; MGG, s.v. ‘Roman’.

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and formalized by his successor (from 1668), Dietrich Buxtehude (c.1637–1707). This music lasted formally in the first instance until 1810.299 There were five subscription concerts after Vespers at 4 p.m. on the last two Sundays after Trinity, and the second, third, and fourth Sundays in Advent. Some forty instrumentalists, including the choristers placed in the side galleries high on the north and side wall of the nave, participated. Bach played truant from his Arnstadt consistory, spending more time than he should have done in Lübeck during 1705–6 listening to Buxtehude; the music was symptomatic of a new fusion between secular and sacred in church, and was seminal in shaping a regulated vernacular Lutheran church music in these cities, and in Bach's Leipzig (1700–50). Leipzig, the flourishing city of fairs, represented best a Lutheran musical renaissance after c.1650 mixing new wealth, and cooperation between city and its musicians, university, and parish church. Citizens wanted to show the best of civic culture in opera and church music at public occasions like the many commemorations for emperors and other rulers, annual elections of the town council, or those held on the three festival days commemorating the tercentenary of Leipzig University (1709), or the Reformation bicentenary (1717); both of which included a paean of praise with solemn musical Te Deums, many trumpets, the ringing of all church bells, and the firing of cannon from the Pleiβenburg. Civic pride renewed and reshaped the framework and substance of the Latin Gregorian liturgy used in city parish churches. The sung liturgy contained in the Formula Missae and Duke Henry's rite (1539) developed with vernacular sermon, hymns, and prayers into a carefully regulated musical order under the city's two principal cantors, Johann Kuhnau (1701–22), and Bach (1723–50).300 A regulated church music was not easy, however, given a liturgical tradition where the main morning service with parish communion began at 7 a.m., lasted some three hours, and alternated on Sundays between St Thomas and St Nicholas. About a third was still sung in Latin: antiphons and responses, parts of the Ordinary and the office, and the biblical readings and verses. At major festivals the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei continued to be sung

299

Munck, ‘Keeping up Appearances’, 217–18; H. Edelhoff, ‘Die Abendmusiken in Lübeck’, Musik und Kirche, 8 (1936), 53–8, 122–7.

300

Both Kuhnau (an advocate) and Bach were well-versed in legal matters related to their profession. Kuhnau wrote a thesis, De juribus circa musicos Ecclesiasticis (Leipzig, 1688).

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choraliter.301 Bach, on arrival (1723), noted the order of service as follows: (1) Organ voluntary; (2) Latin Motet; (3) Kyrie and Gloria; (4) Latin collect; (5) Epistle; (6) de tempore hymn; (7) Latin Gospel; (8) Credo; (9) cantata; (10) Luther's metrical version of the Creed as a hymn; (11) sermon; (12) notices; (13) prayers and intercessions; (14) hymn, or second part of the cantata; (15) Lord's Prayer and verba institutionis; (16) administration of communion with hymn or motet; (17) Collects; (18) Blessing.302 It was a parish communion service rich in colour. Four clergy (pastor, archdeacon, deacon, and subdeacon) wore chasubles over black cassocks which varied with the Christian year: white for Christmas and the major festivals; red for Whitsun and the Christian martyrs; violet for Advent and Lent; black for Good Friday; green for Epiphany to Septuagesima and Sundays after Trinity.303 But it would be wrong to see Kuhnau and Bach as mere custodians of this urban Lutheran Saxon rite. Both were innovative in linking Saxony's Latin liturgy with a civic demand for vernacular public worship. The formal church cantata (anthem replacing the Gradual) sung before and after the sermon, which had developed in local court opera at Weiβenfels under its chapel master, Johann Philipp Krieger (1649–1725), was turned (1700) into the first annual cycle of church cantatas composed by the court chaplain, Erdmann Neumeister (1671–1756). It spread thereafter rapidly to Leipzig, Thuringian home towns, and Hamburg (Neumeister was senior at St James after 1715). A new mood mixing secular and sacred was expressed aptly by Kuhnau's stress on linking theatre and rhetoric to liturgical church music as the best way of expressing the right sense and scope of the pericopes used in Sunday sermons. The cantata was in church the applied musical rhetoric taught in Leipzig's grammar schools and university, or a grammar curriculum, like that which Bach had already learnt at school in Lüneburg. The Bible could be understood by a visually minded congregation which was moved more by the eyes and the senses via a church music which framed the Sunday sermon. Bach's 1726 cantata cycle was printed with copperprints ‘for those who might not be inclined to read the words, but might still be interested in these little illustrations’.304

301

Schrems, Geschichte des Gregorianischen Gesanges, 109–10; Terry, Bach, 68–9.

302

Ibid. 160; Terry, Bach Cantata Texts, 19 passim.

303

Terry, Bach Cantata Texts, 17–18.

304

MGG, s.v. Kantata, ‘Denn ausser dem, dass man sich auff das Artificium die Affectus zu moviren, und sonsten alles geschicklich zu exprimiren wohl verstehen solte, so hielte ich vor nöthig, dass man in der Hermeneutica kein Frembdling wäre, und den rechten Sensum und Scopum der Worte allemahl wohl capirte’, Kuhnau (1709), B. F. Richter, ‘Eine Abhandlung Joh. Kuhnau's’, Monatshefte für Musikgeschichte, 34 (1902), 150.

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Affections had thus to be skilfully moved towards the devotional point of the sermon by a cantata which, in its two parts, paraphrased the theme of the sermon musically with instrumentation mimicking a libretto composed by a local composer (usually a court poet or senior civil servant). A favourite of Bach's was Salomon Franck (1659–1725), known as Der Treumeinende, from 1701 secretary to Weimar's consistory, court librarian, and keeper of the courtly coin collection. A good example of a cantata is Cantata No. 21 ‘Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis in meinem Herzen’ for the Third Sunday after Trinity, which links usage in Weimar's court chapel (first played 1714) with Leipzig's St Thomas (after 1723). The sermon's text taken from the Epistle: 1 Peter 5: 6–11 ‘Casting all your cares upon Him; for He careth for you’; and Gospel: Luke 15: 1–10, the parable of the lost sheep, is directed both at the individual parishioner and the congregation. The first five numbers dwell on the miseries of the lost sheep, and part two (after the sermon) on spiritual peace and joy when it is found by the Good Shepherd. The sinfonia is scored for oboe, two violins, viola, bassoon, organ, and continuo mimicking the lost sheep wandering now here, and now there, looking for its master, and is brought twice to a halt on discords as a sign of the exhaustion and hopelessness of it all (Bach knew his errant city congregation). In the second part, secular and sacred mix as a love duet from contemporary opera in number eight: a positive joy at finding the Good Shepherd, dialogue between soprano and bass accompanied by organ and continuo ‘Komme, mein Jesu, und erquicke, und erfreue mit Deinem Blicke’ (Come my Jesus, and revive and rejoice with Thy countenance), and ‘Ja, ich komme und erquicke dich mit meinem Gnadenblicke’ (Yea, I come and revive thee with my look of mercy). Bach's annual fifty-nine cantatas for Sundays and Festivals are therefore expressive of a new congregational purpose enriching Leipzig's Formula Missae, and a link to secular cantatas which Bach wrote for occasions such as elections to the city council, or like the ‘Peasant Cantata’ (No. 212), to parody homage of tenantry (1742) to Carl Heinrich von Dieskau, the mean-spirited and officious head of

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Leipzig's tax department, and patron (from 1740) of Picander, the nickname for the town clerk Christian Friedrich Henrici (1700–64), another of Bach's librettists; or Henrici and Bach's ‘coffee cantata’ (No. 211) performed (1735) by Leipzig's Collegium Musicum in Gottfried Zimmermann's coffee house, which lampooned Leipzig's new fashion for drinking coffee. All this was as novel as Bach's organ voluntaries which had so enraged his consistory at Arnstadt (1706). It remains questionable whether even educated upper-class Leipzig parishioners ever understood Kuhnau's and Bach's musical reformation as Gerber's commentary on the first performance of Bach's St Matthew Passion in St Thomas on Good Friday, 15 April 1729, indicates: ‘Some high officials and well-born ladies in one of the galleries began to sing the first Chorale with great devotion from their hymnbooks. But as the theatrical music proceeded, they were thrown into the greatest wonderment, saying to each other, “What does it all mean?” while one old lady, a widow, exclaimed, “God help us! 'tis surely an opera-comedy!”’305 To dwell on Bach's musical genius is to forget the generally low standard of congregational understanding and singing in even an urban centre of well-developed church music such as Leipzig (Bach often tore his hair over his poor-quality choristers), and a more extensive background of Luther's simple Deutsche Messe parish service in home-town and village churches. Gerber's memorized, Saxon, de tempore village parish service of eight hymns led by a cantor who often found it difficult to start on the right note is perhaps closer to the point. Even in more musical Thuringia, Bach in his report (1708) as organist to his consistory at Mühlhausen, noted that a taste for art music in village parish churches was only just beginning.306

305

Gerber, Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen, 283–4; Terry, Bach, 197.

306

Gerber, 278; Terry, 82–3.

9 Towards an Apostolic Congregation in Church and Home I. Spirituality It is as difficult to characterize and date Lutheran (also Reformed) spirituality in the eighteenth century as it is in the seventeenth century. The labels ‘Orthodoxy’, ‘Pietism’, ‘Enlightenment’, useful perhaps for describing theological tendencies, are too convenient. The language of Lutheran and Reformed sixteenth-century rites, and the language of Protestant prayer described so far, lived on in parish churches and homes well into the nineteenth century. However, in a period of consolidation and reform (c.1680–1750) in which a parish clergy used their pastoral office to link parish church and home more closely, new, handy (octaves and twelves), and cheaper vernacular books of devotion, hymn-books, and cate-chisms helped to develop an active gathered congregation modelled consciously on the congregation in the New Testament and Early Church. Spener and Francke at Halle, Buddeus at Jena, and senior Pietist clergy at Tübingen and Stuttgart, trained a generation of ordinands and lay preachers (c.1690–1740) in this spirit. Pietist spirituality suited the prayer and manners of plain men and women, and it was to prove strong enough to withstand criticism made by an educated middle-class Enlightenment, c.1770–1840. On the other hand, exposure to state censorship, many conventicle acts, and habitual parish manners, compromised Pietism more than theological labels admit. Spener and Francke, Pietist clergy in general, were not original devotional authors either. They used and enriched the Protestant canon of prayer with homiletics which concentrated on the virtuous Christian. Sermon, prayer, hymn, evangelism, and correspondence were unified by pastoral intention: to encourage parishioners, in a purposeful yet gentle way, to follow step by step

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the living Christ of the New Testament. Personal conversion; spiritual rebirth (Durchbruch); realization of human selfdeception as an ever-present reality in an evil world; contrition (a restless heart leading to a willingness to open up to Christ's gracious influence); realization of a distinction between natural knowledge of God and Christ's gift of knowledge of salvation; constant daily effort of self-examination which admitted no excuses; humility described by Francke as his being able to call God ‘Father’ for the first time when kneeling; and forbearance in spiritual adversity, are intrinsic elements of a new ‘lay’ spirituality in which theology had no place. Individual spiritual trial, cross bearing, trust in God, obedience to God's law, and joy in a new Christian life are the five main themes of a serious principled Protestant religion which appealed to a post-war growing civic culture. Reading the Bible, praying, and singing hymns together in an artless childlike way; doing the best one could as Christian brothers and sisters; testing biblical truth by experience, and believing optimistically in God's providential grace, constituted the heart of a brother–sister morality of doing in this world here and now. The ‘reborn’ Christian lives as well as studies the Christian faith (Analogia fidei: in German, Gleichheit geistlicher Erkenntnis und Erfahrung). In this way, steps taken towards spiritual rebirth described in colloquial metaphors became associated with a modern reformation of manners. Francke's rules (1689), ‘For the Protection of Conscience and for Good Order in Conversation or Society’, listed sobriety, discretion, avoidance of abuse, comportment, rejection of the vanities of this world—such as too much food and drink, or dancing—a humble but not fearful manner, and Christian joy, as rules of life, or civic virtues. Practising piety was synonymous with observance of the law of the land.307 Pietist spirituality obviously appealed in a new post-war public realm. Popular devotional literature—postils, meditations on the Epistles and Gospels, meditations in Christ's person and teaching—especially His Passion—meditations on the certainty of salvation, daily prayer-books (usually in twelves and often including copper-plate illustrations), totalled almost 20 per cent (19.08%) of all books listed at Leipzig's Easter fair in 1740 (52% amongst books labelled ‘theological literature’). In England, about forty of Francke's books and tracts published at Halle were swiftly translated 1705–20 (the

307

Kramer, Francke, i. 270–2.

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second edition of his Nicodemus 1709, was dedicated to the Society for the Reformation of Manners).308

II. A Plain Person's Daily Devotional Exercise: Halle and Württemberg Print is inadequate to recapture this oral childlike language of the heart encouraged in many handy household prayerbooks (Hausbücher) designed for all ranks and ages by Halle, Stuttgart, and Tübingen (c.1720–70). Hallesian vernacular prayer and preaching was a mix of noble (family networks of Protestant Reichsadel), commoner, and clergy. One of the most influential authors was the Silesian nobleman, Karl Heinrich von Bogatzky (1690–1774), spiritual adviser to the court at Saalfeld (1740–6), and afterwards companion to Francke's son in the Halle Orphanage. His Güldenes Schatzkästlein der Kinder Gottes (A Golden Treasury for the Children of God), a collection of easy-to-use New Testament quotations for family meditation, written originally in 1718 for his own devotional use (the 1746 edition included quotations for every day in the Christian year; in 1760 a second part was added for use in the evening), became one of the best-loved household books in Protestant Europe. By 1887 in Germany, fifty-nine known editions (in sixteens) had been printed; in England, seventy-seven translations (1754–1925).309 Bogatzky also published at Halle (after 1746) some sixty booklets of daily common prayer. His two-volume Hausbuch (1748–9) containing daily meditations and prayers was one of the best loved (five editions by 1839–42). The virtuous daily Christian life was popularized by another Silesian, Johann Adam Steinmetz (1689–1762), senior at Teschen (1720–9), after 1732, abbot of Kloster Berge school (modelled on Halle's orphanage) and general superintendent of the duchy of Magdeburg. Steinmetz, who edited Spener's devotional writing with a biography, exemplified a mild Spenerian spirituality consisting of daily household prayers, family and school catechism, and Saturday and Sunday afternoon hours of devotion in church. It was a model of piety which became, via Steinmetz's many printed Franckean sermons and his editorship of new pastoral journals similar to those

308

Jentzsch, Leipziger-Ostermeβkatalogen, 15, 22–34, 344–6; Schöffler, Protestantismus und Literatur, 187; Davis, German Thought and Culture in England, 50.

309

Beck, Religiöse Volkslitteratur, 217; RE, s.v. ‘Bogatzky’; Davis, 127.

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of Deyling and Fresenius, extremely popular in central German town and country by 1750.310 Similar spiritual luminaries were three Hallesians who worked in the Giessen/Frankfurt area. The Hessian nobleman, Philipp Balthasar Sinold (von Schütz; pseudonym ‘Amadeus Creutzberg’, 1657–1742), ‘Faramond’ in the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft, a councillor to the pious Solms-Laubach family after 1727, wrote a dozen companions containing biblical meditations for use as daily thoughts and rules of life. Notable were his meditations, Gottselige Betrachtungen auf alle Tage des ganzen Jahres (1719, four editions by 1773). Frederick William I read it daily. Creutzberg's short rules of life, Lebensregeln (1713); especially his collection of Christian hymns, sayings, and poetry, Amadei Creutzbergs geistliche und andere erbauliche Poesien, Lieder, Sonette und Epigrammata (1720) became household inventory. Perhaps the most popular family author of all was Johann Friedrich Starck (1680–1756); pastor of Frankfurt's Barfüsserkirche parish after 1723. Starck, like Steinmetz, emphasized household knowledge of Luther's catechism, and regular daily prayer. Private prayers, which he held on Sunday afternoons after evensong in his vicarage for some thirty years, furnished material for his daily prayer-book, Das tägliche Handbuch in guten und bösen Tagen (1727). It was for the eighteenth century what Arndt was for the seventeenth: a spiritual guide to dip into, for all sorts and all ages and for every occasion. The first edition was written in four parts for those in health, those in sorrow, for the sick, and the dying. Parts five and six (1731) consisted of a little prayer-book for pregnant women, women giving birth, and women in childbed. Long prayers aimed at instruction and reflection, and a hymn, were prefaced by an ‘Exhortation’ (Aufmunterung): a bible verse with a short introduction explaining the subject of prayer before devotional preparation. Equally well loved were Starck's Kommunionbuch (1723; several editions by 1750), his Christian rules, Das Gott-geheiligte Hertz (1743), containing prayers composed for parishioners who had sent their domestics to

310

Sammlungen zum Bau des Reiches Gottes (Leipzig, 1731–6), 6 vols.—continued (1737–43), 4 vols., and as Klosterbergische Sammlungen (Magdeburg, 1745–61), 5 vols. Also, Theologia practica pastoralis oder Sammlungen nutzbarer Anweisung zur gesegneten Einführung des evangelischen Lehramts (Magdeburg, 1737–59), 10 vols., and Beiträge zur Theologia practica pastoralis (1746–60); H. Holstein, Geschichte der ehemaligen Schule zu Kloster Berge (Leipzig, 1886), 17–29.

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his vicarage (sic !), and morning and evening prayers (1744). Bible and catechism were turned into warm, temperate, and personal idiom. Johann Jakob Rambach (1693–1735), the son of a family of cabinet-makers in Bach's Arnstadt, trained by Francke and Buddeus, Francke's popular successor as professor of theology at Halle (his lecture hall filled to capacity with c. 400–500 students), and after 1731 at Giessen, gained in a short life immense influence both as a popular theologian, as an approachable pastor, and as a hymn-writer. He shaped the subsequent pastoral work of Johann Philipp Fresenius (1705–61) at Frankfurt (as the senior of Giessen's Burgkirche, Fresenius gave Rambach's funeral address, and edited his Praecepta homiletica, 1736), and his sermons provided models which Mosheim warmly recommended as guides for a modern parish homiletics. Rambach made the New Testament a family book. Extremely popular too were his Catechism (1724); his Meditations thereon (1736; ten editions by 1762); and his Meditations on Christ's Passion (1729). The latter, translated into English as Considerations on the Sufferings of Christ (1759), became almost as popular as Bogatzky: a second illustrated English two-volume edition edited by Fresenius followed (1763), and a third English abridged edition (1829).311 Rambach's pupil, Fresenius (Ch. 12), put Rambach into countless Protestant German and Scandinavian homes: in many devotional tracts contained in his pastoral journal, Pastoral-Sammlungen (1748–60), and particularly in his pocket companion to the Lutheran communion service, Beicht und Kommunionbuch (1746, in twelves), which became the bestloved modern guide. Its appeal consisted of contents aimed at the individual communicant and his or her spiritual state. Eleven German editions were published by 1885 (Scandinavian translations below). Prayer, using Luther's interpretation of the fourth plea in his Little Catechism, Fresenius reaffirmed, is a necessary daily office for serving and praising God in the family home and in church. Prayer leads anxious souls to God (SeelenFührung) in the sense of Psalm 137 and Matthew 20. The exercise of prayer, as an oral not simply a written act, is of all Christian duties the most important in leading a Christian to true self-knowledge and an optimistic outlook on life.312 Fresenius's significance as a spiritual author also lay in his popularization of Württemberg piety in northern Germany and Scandinavia:

311

Davis, 129–30.

312

Pastoral-Sammlungen, xxi. 406–22.

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notably of the works of Johann Albrecht Bengel (1687–1752), whose biography and writings he wrote and edited (1753). Württemberg produced its own eighteenth-century spirituality (the eighteenth century provides a convenient chronology in this case), though it might be misleading to speak of this spirituality as sui generis. Pfaff, Tübingen's chancellor (1720–57), was a good friend of Buddeus, and insistent upon Tübingen ordinands learning from Anglican and Puritan devotional example. On the other hand, there was a feeling, expressed by Bengel, that Hallesian spirituality was too cool for the new century, and that conventicles were compatible with a local established church. Whether Württemberg spirituality was so different from Hallesian in practice remains questionable, but it was seen as closer to the hearts of commoners, though that heart was middle and upper, rather than lower class before 1750.313 Stuttgart court and Tübingen University clergy wrote this devotional vernacular for these family homes. Johann Reinhard Hedinger (1664–1704), chaplain at Stuttgart's court, translated Bible and catechism into short metaphorical and aphoristic prayer-books, hymn-books such as his Andächtiger Hertzensklang (1701), and meditations on Christ's Passion, Passionsspiegel (1702). These also built on seventeenth-century clergy authors such as Müller and Lassenius, the latter of whom Hedinger knew personally. His pupil, Johann Andreas Grammlich (1689–1728), also court chaplain, used Reformed and Jansenist devotion he had met on his travels in the Netherlands and France, and in particular Joseph Hall's Bible History, for meditations (1721), and prayer-books containing a moral theology of prayer such as his twopart octavo daily meditations (1724), which became very popular in the early nineteenth-century revival. The great Danish revivalist, Grundtvig, wrote of it in his Brief Conception of World Chronicles (1812) as the purest and most edifying prayer-book which had appeared since Luther.314 But it was Bengel who in the 1720s interpreted Spener as the second angel of the Apocalypse after Arndt, and Halle's and Jena's Pietism for Swabians. His New Testament became a household book. Bengel warmed to simple Württembergers, einfältige gemeine Leute, as he called them in popular sermons on the Book of Revelation (1747), and its abridgement, Evangelische Rauchwerk (1753 in octaves). This was spirituality which was still, confident, joyful

313

Lehmann, Pietismus . . . Württemberg, 118, 121.

314

Beck, Religiöse Volkslitteratur, 234.

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(heiter), and optimistic: it shunned Enthusiasm, and it respected Württemberg's established church, given Bengel's belief that every public office was part of an authority which God had commissioned in the interval before His Second Coming. Bengel thus prevented Moravian spirituality (he regarded Zinzendorf as a false prophet) striking roots in Württemberg, at Copenhagen, owing to the Danish court's employment after 1730 of several of his Tübingen ordinands, and at Giessen and Frankfurt via his admirer, Fresenius.315 Bengel had many disciples amongst Württemberg parish clergy who carried his spiritual message into the late eighteenth century. Notable mid-century pupils were Friedrich Christoph Oetinger (1702–82), who popularized Pietist daily prayer amongst ordinands in Tübingen's Stift after 1725, and in his parishes of Weinsberg (1752) and Herrenberg (1757). Bengelian were his meditations on Job (1748), Ecclesiastes (1753), the Psalms (1750 and 1776), and especially his utopian devotional tract published at the height of the constitutional struggle with Duke Karl Eugen (1737–93), Die güldene Zeit (1759). Another was a critic of court manners, Johann Christian Storr (1712–73), court chaplain from 1744, senior in Stuttgart after 1757, who produced prayer-books similar to those of Fresenius and Starck. Different from Hallesian understanding was his Bengelian belief in God's Second Coming. His Gottgeheiligte Flämmlein auf den Bet-Altar des Herzens (1755 in octaves), was abridged as a Gebet und Kommunionbuch, designed for every rank and age, for use as an ‘exercise in Godliness’ for mornings and evenings, confession, communion, and for the sick and dying. This was work which was complemented by similar household prayer-books and hymn-books such as the two-volume Geistliches Liederkästlein (1762–7 in octaves) by Philipp Friedrich Hiller (1699–1766), or Württemberg's first spiritual journal, Altes und neues aus dem Reiche Gottes und der übrigen guten und bösen Geister published in nineteen instalments (1733–5) by Johann Jakob Moser. Prefaced by a belief in providence, Moser's journal popularized lives of the reborn, notably local examples such as Beata Sturm (1682–1730), reported on Denmark's mission in the East Indies, and articulated popular spiritual interests such as blessed or dreadful deaths, doubtful and awakening dreams, credible news about good and evil spirits: even Bengel's Zeitrechnung.

315

Ibid. 236.

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III. Denmark-Norway and Sweden-Finland Geography and literary culture shaped a post-war Scandinavian spirituality which was Hallesian in colour (for example, Brorson, bishop of Ribe after 1741, had studied at Halle, Jena, and Kiel after Copenhagen), but tempered too by Dutch Reformed, Anglican and Puritan, and Württemberg piety and pastoral practice. It was often printed in German, rather than Danish or Swedish before 1740. Helping parishioners, a moral civic sense, and patriotism, emerged as important new values. Pontoppidan exemplified this gradual transition. His Hallesian octavo Mirror (Heller Glaubens-Spiegel, 1727), written while chaplain to the duke of Nordborg on the Jutish island of Als, first appeared in Danish as Troens Speyl in 1740, and it was in the second edition (1769) that Pontoppidan first translated German Pietist terms such as ‘application’ (Anwendung) into Danish Anvendelse, or ‘persuasion’ (Beweis) as Overbevisning.316 Pontoppidan's spirituality in a parish environment, which he had described as needing a new broom to sweep out the old sour dough of popular religion, was one which emphasized the need for vigilance towards the Devil and his works, and the Christ who comforted doubting souls (Acts 4: 12). Pontoppidan moved cautiously too, eliciting opinion of Kiel and Jena theologians to counter possible Copenhagen charges of error. But this warm, colloquial, devotional writing soon turned Pontoppidan into a Scandinavian Spener. His Mirror became a family inventory, like Arndt and Scriver in Sweden's southern parishes already in the 1730s, in Sweden generally after 1750 (Härliga trosspegel, som föreställer Guds barns rätta känne tekn, 1766; tenth edition, 1899), and in the Finnish-speaking parishes of the east Bothnian coast and southern Finland (c.1760).317 Pontoppidan's spirituality was coloured by Bengel as well. As court chaplain (1735–47), Pontoppidan befriended Jeremias Friedrich Reuss (1700–77), Christian VI's Pietist Swabian court chaplain (1732–49). Reuss, also a theology professor at Copenhagen University, was a pupil of Tübingen and Halle, a good friend of Bengel, and a Pietist who upheld the authority of the established church (also subsequently as general superintendent of Slesvig and Holsten 1749–57, and Pfaff's successor as Tübingen University's

316

Neiiendam, Pontoppidan, i. 152, 234.

317

Ibid. ii. 263; Olsson, Från Martin Luther till Sven Lidman, 91 passim ; Newman, Nordskanska väckelsesrörelser under 1800-talet, i. 320. Swedish translation of Menoza (1771–3).

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chancellor after 1757). Pontoppidan and Reuss shared and propagated a New Testament piety at school and university which they considered a patriotic duty, and both were responsible, with other like-minded court clergy and ministers, for keeping Moravianism out of Denmark before c.1770 (Ch. 11).318 Pontoppidan's anonymous (he still feared reprisals) Spenerian explanation of Luther's Little Catechism in octaves, titled, from Titus 1: 1 Truth which is unto Godliness (1737), containing 759 questions and answers became his most influential devotional book as both Denmark's official catechism (1738), and as a privileged Landes-Katechismus in Slesvig and Holsten (1741). It remained in official use until its replacement in 1791. Pontoppidan restated Spener and Francke's distinction between the knowledge that belongs to this world, and a personal faith gained through rebirth; between worldly happiness and heavenly salvation posed in his opening question, ‘Dear child, do you really wish to be happy on earth and blessed in heaven? (‘Kære Barn! Vil du ikke gerne være lykkelig på jorden og salig i Himlen?’); an active faith as the precondition for an awakened life (question 681); preparation for communion which avoided confession as an opus operatum (question 753); avoidance of the temptations of this life, pompa mundi such as Copenhagen's theatre, wigs (Christ never wore one), dancing as a work of the Devil, and a new secular-minded urban literature (questions 223, 225). School teaching in Danish remained poor; Pontoppidan's Catechism in poor, orphanage print was far too long and his questions too stereotyped for easy consumption. However, parish clergy often made their own summaries, and it became, in the long run, one of the few available school textbooks used for reading, a Danish household vade-mecum, and one, it seems, which was much preferred to its Enlightenment successor. In Norway, it could still be found in home use in the 1930s.319 Pontoppidan's long tenure of high office until his death in 1767, coupled with the spiritual influence of like-minded mid-century Pietist bishops, thus fashioned a Danish family circle of piety which proved more durable than imported German ‘Neology’ (c.1780–1800). The dates of the ‘Age of Liberty’ in Sweden (1719–72) conveniently span the growth of a similar household Christocentric

318

Neiiendam, ii. 31 passim ; Grane (ed.), Københavns Universitet, v. 222–6 passim.

319

48 Danish editions; 20 Swedish; 18 German; Neiiendam, ii. 81–4, 263–4.

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spirituality spread by the pious Swedish families who returned from Siberia, and contemporaneous new translations of devotional books often bearing Reval's imprint. But timing of cheap household prayer in Swedish was later than in Denmark: Luther's postil was printed in a popular Stockholm translation for the first time in 1753. Württemberg spirituality (Bengelian) was translated at the turn of the century, and became popular in the southern Swedish revival in the 1830s. Contributions by Swedish clergy hardly known outside diocesan boundaries became more widely circulated in the late eighteenth century. Important were two clergy associated with post-war Stockholm evangelism, Anders Båld (1679–1751), and Anders Nohrborg (1725–67); two close to Nohrborg in temper—Anders Gradin (1706–51), a rector in Strängnäs diocese, brother of the Moravian, Arvid Gradin, and Mikael Fant (1718–54), rector in Eskilstuna; and one close to Halle and Göttingen, the homiletic reformer, church historian, and liturgist, Sven Bælter (1713–60), provost of Växjö cathedral (Ch. 12). Båld wrote meditations on the Gospels (1761) and Epistles (1767), and a postil (1769); Nohrborg a postil on the Gospels (1771); Gradin on the Gospels (1760); Fant on the Epistles (1760–2); and Bælter published several well-loved collections of sermons, the most popular being his Gospel sermons, Nåden i Christo (1767).320 The post-war, virtuous, Swedish household was, therefore, a blend of Puritan and Anglican, Scriver, and Halle, and mixed the evangelical with a reformation of manners. Pilgrim's Progress, one of the first Swedish devotional books to include illustrations, was translated in 1727 from German and Dutch copies, and it became almost at once a muchloved family book (some sixty editions).321 Other Puritan translations—the twenty-first chapter (use of the tongue) in Richard Baxter's Treatise of Self-Denial (1729), his Poor Man's Family Book (1731), translated from a Danish edition (1715, based on a German edition), Thomas Gouge's The Christian Householder (1734 edn.), and the anonymous Practice of Christian Graces, or the Whole Duty of Man (1741)—became family books. Gouge was printed twice in the same decade (in 1738 at Skara and Stockholm). Likewise, Scriver's prayers (1723), daily meditations (1727), and sermons on Sundays and festivals of the Christian year (1731), were

320

Olsson, 95–105.

321

Ibid. 72 passim ; E. Esking, John Bunyan i Sverige under 250 år (Klippan, 1980).

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also translated for the first time, and they were bought by the new parish libraries. Lent out farm by farm, Scriver's warm, homespun Bible teaching on nature, grace, and learning from everyday experience—especially that contained in his daily meditations—appealed in a rural parish landscape and everyday world filled with a numinosity of the kind described by his disciple, Linné, and a new worldly optimism which began to put parish improvement on the agenda.322 This was a spiritual climate which quite naturally opened to Halle as well. Creutzberg's (he also used the name Sinold) daily meditations (1719) were translated in 1747, and soon reprinted in 1758 with copperprints to which were added short verses by the Swedish poet, Olof Kolmodin senior (1690–1755), provost of Flo in Skara diocese after 1725. Even more popular was Rambach. His meditations on Christ's Passion (1743) especially, given the importance of parish communion in Sweden, but also his meditations on the Gospels (translated in two parts, 1756–7), and his meditations on man's salvation (1763), influenced a family circle of piety which linked up with Swedish nineteenthcentury revival.323 Fresenius became a household name: his companion to the altar (1753) ran to twelve editions by 1874. Even the premier Swedish nobleman, Count Erik Brahe, butchered to death before Stockholm's palace windows for his part in the royalist conspiracy of 1756, is recorded to have said to his chaplain before his execution, that he had learnt much from Fresenius, especially from passages in Fresenius's companion which had brought him to selfknowledge (‘där han känt igen sig själv’).324 Equally popular were Fresenius's Meditations on Sundays and festivals (1764), and his brother's treatise on justification (1756). Pontoppidan, popular already in southern Swedish parishes in the 1730s, and Hersleb became household names at this time. Hersleb's morning and evening prayers (1772), known in popular parlance as Nådastolen, which preached the virtues of king, fatherland, church, and home, was one of the most used at family prayers, running to fifty editions by 1905. This was spirituality whose similar timing to Denmark's meant that German Neology, which arrived in Stockholm and other

322

Olsson, 52 passim ; Olsson, ‘De kyrkliga biblioteksversamheten på 1900- och 1700- talen’, Biblioteksbladet, 18 (1943), 10 passim.

323

Olsson, Från Martin Luther till Sven Lidman, 88–90.

324

M. Troilus, Sal. öfverstlöjtn. grefve Eric Brahes märkvärdia och christeliga beredelse till döden

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southern Swedish towns at the turn of the century, never struck firm roots in local parishes where translations of Luther and Scriver, or the posthumous printed evangelism of a Swedish post-war clergy generation inspired by Halle, were fresh print.

IV. Homiletic Reform Preaching, the dominant office in Reformation public worship, was reformed in step with the growth and consolidation of lay vernacular prayer and rules of life. Modern homiletics was pioneered by urban parish clergy, since an educated urban clergy was required for the many services with a sermon in Reformation urban church orders used by several town churches (usually six or more). On Sundays it was customary to preach two or three times: at early Mattins, at the main Sunday morning service, and often at the afternoon service (Vespers) which was sometimes used for catechism. Sermons were due at regular weekday services, on each of the three holidays at Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun, during Holy Week, and on the many saints' days in an unrevised Catholic calendar before 1770. In a town such as Rostock, clergy preached some 1,500 sermons annually; in neighbouring Lübeck there were forty-two services with sermon each week.325 Similar figures applied, particularly in the most urban German state, Saxony, and to all the larger German and Scandinavian Lutheran towns. Urban expansion in this period thus forced urban clergy to consider how much, and what, they preached. But to change was difficult. Authorities in the seventeenth century had fixed the same pericopes year in, year out in church orders, and strictly forbade any utterance which strayed from the text. By 1700 the same sequence of annual texts had become a recipe for passive worship and sleep: churchwardens were often given sticks to wake up those on the nod. Parish and visitation records, and a mass of local ordinances, show authorities fighting a losing struggle in either keeping congregations awake, or preventing loud gossip in unheated and dark medieval churches. Preaching in baroque pulpits had also become a cerebral and elaborate Lutheran architecture of words, technical terms, and metaphorical colour which played to a university-trained clergyman's

325

Schian, Orthodoxie und Pietismus im Kampf um die Predigt, 5; ‘Predigt’, RE, col. 669 passim ; W. D. Hauschild, Kirchengeschichte Lübecks: Christentum und Bürgertum in neun Jahrhunderten (Lübeck, 1981), 344.

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vanity and ingenuity. A confessional rhetoric of abuse, which tried to stonewall Roman ‘tradition’, the plain speech of the Reformed, and the ‘inner word’ of Enthusiasts helped to widen a visibly growing gap between preacher and parishioner. Fivefold usage comprising usus didascalicus (doctrine), elenchticus (refutation of error)—margins of written texts often contained ‘here I must abuse’—paedeuticus (warning), epanothorticus (punishment of immoral behaviour, Laster), and consolatorius, (consolation), licensed an imaginative pedantry. A leading Saxon preacher such as Carpzov junior (d. 1699) could think up a hundred dispositions for Psalm 14: 7. Annual cycles on the same theme on all Sundays of the year (Jahrgangspredigten) became fashionable. Pictorial, or emblematic method (Realienkunst) pioneered in the 1680s by the Zittau headmaster (from 1678), the poet Christian Weise (1642–1708), was applied to emblematic sermon cycles (Realienjahrgänge), and emblematic pictures were often hung below pulpits.326 A Nuremberg cycle (1692), for example, dealt with a craft every Sunday: ‘whose latchet I am not worthy to unloose’, John 1: 27, fourth Sunday in Advent (shoemakers); ‘the water was made wine’, John 2: 1, second Sunday in Epiphany (innkeepers); ‘what ye shall drink’, Matthew 6: 25, fifteenth Sunday after Trinity (brewers), and so on; a Saxon urban emblematic cycle even dwelt on city towers: namely, Pulverturm (the Law), Schloβturm (the Gospel), Kreuzturm (the Cross).327 This was urban preaching where aids abounded. Postils; treasuries (Schatzkammer) consisting of anecdotes, and material plundered from the Classics, Church Fathers, and devotional books; books of examples; concordances and thesauruses containing collections of Bible stories and sayings, were printed and sold in unquantifiable numbers for parish clergy to crib (methodo excerpendi). A preface would announce, pleasant Moralia or Locos Communes; nice definitiones, or descriptions; special interpretations, or explanations of the most difficult parts of the Bible; well-founded Argumenta probantia; ingenious Emblemata and Symbola used by high persons; refreshing Similia: religious and profane; rare Testimonia and Dicta patrum; particular Status Afflictos; refreshing wells of

326

Schian, 16 passim.

327

‘Predigt’, RE, cols. 669–70. Schian, 17; see Johann Samuel Adami (d. 1713), Deliciae evangelico-Emblematicae (1702–15), 15 vols., and others discussed by Schuler, Geschichte der Veränderungen des Geschmacks in Predigen (1792), i. 197, 324 passim.

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consolation [aufrichtender Trostquellen]; learned histories; curious questions with thorough explanations, and useful homiletic formulae.328 Sermons lengthened inevitably, often to twice the three-quarters of an hour laid down in church orders. A mood arose in a growing urban public order, that teaching, scholastic method, and language used in Lutheran pulpits was old-fashioned. Clergy were not up to the task either. Gaps appeared between what was expected from training, and delivery; and between clergy in town and country pulpits. A worse-educated rural clergy could not manage a sermon which used much Latin or many foreign words. Dialect (Plattdeutsch) used in village church sermons in provinces like the Mecklenburgs and Pomeranias was also a hindrance. A gap between educated (High German) and uneducated (dialect) parishes and parishioners was visible too. Congregations could not follow. But change came quite naturally too, because a ‘language above the dialects’ (Hochdeutsch) was stabilizing (c.1690–1740). The questions—what was correct German, who spoke it, who wrote it?—were answered by a preference for straight Saxon-Meissen speech rather than stilted Silesian, and modern Leipzig grammar pioneered by Mencke; by Leipzig's Deutschübende poetische Gesellschaft (1717) which Mencke presided over; and by Gottsched as both professor of eloquence (after 1724), and president of the same society, which he renamed in 1727 the German Society. A notable pupil was Christian Furchtegott Gellert (1715–69), the fifth son of one of many impoverished Saxon clergy families—like Brorson at Copenhagen he could hardly manage to pay for his studies at Leipzig—who became, as a Leipzig student and teacher of rhetoric and moral philosophy (after 1744), a pupil and mouthpiece for Gottsched. He also shared a new Saxon clergy preference for Tillotson's sermons. Goethe, who visited his course on style, naturally became confused by Gellert's advice to write as he spoke, and that of his friends who told him to speak as he wrote. Gellert, of course, became well known as the author of Spiritual Odes and Songs (1757), some of which Beethoven put to music in 1803; in the Anglican church he is well known as the author of ‘Jesus Lives!’ in the version by Frances Cox.

328

Christian Weidling (d. 1731), Lehrreiche Oratorische Schatz-Kammer, oder Neue vollkommene Real-Concordanz (Leipzig, 1700), preface; published in 2 vols. (1700–3), Schian, 24–5; Weise as a linguistic reformer: Blackall, Emergence of German as a Literary Language.

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It was at this time that dialect (Plattdeutsch) sermons started to be seen as curiosities.329 Language and spiritual content reshaped each other. Neighbouring Pietist Halle threw out the sermon as an art form (a chair of German Beredsamkeit was established, 1725–30). Learning was replaced by Bible veracity, a necessary conversion of individual men and women in the pew, and a call to action. Francke pioneered free delivery in simple German diction. His chaplain, Freylinghausen, supplemented preaching by encouraging his congregation to bring Bibles to church, and with prayer and hymn-singing twice a week in the assembly-room of Halle's orphanage. Rambach turned Halle's practical preaching into a pious plan of homiletic reform. Württemberg Pietists were less passionate but equally influential. At Tübingen, Hedinger, the two Tübingen professors, Johann Andreas Hochstetter (1637–1720) and Andreas Adam Hochstetter (1668–1717), and Bengel, in a spirit critical of Halle, developed their own plain explanation of the New Testament (Bengel left out his apocalyptic spirituality), using a calm delivery to read out parts of the Bible for the benefit of ignorant congregations. Stuttgart did likewise under the guidance of Bengel's pupils, Georg Konrad Rieger (1678–1743), and his son Karl Heinrich Rieger (1726–91). Stuttgart's Pietistenreskript (1743) condoning conventicles was really recognition of this modern homiletics which linked church and private prayer meetings. Taken as a whole, Pietist preaching weakened Lutheran confessionalism and a punitive Lutheranism which liked to refute religious opponents and use Old Testament talion. A mild form of address directed at ordinary men and women in the pew (Spener's Einfältigen), emphasized knowledge of the Gospel as a guide to ethical conduct, and charitable work for the poor, the sick, and those who could not help themselves such as the many post-war orphans. Spener likened his reform not to a traveller whose coat was ripped off by a storm, but rather to a traveller under a mild sun whose understanding and feeling told him to discard his coat.330 Parishioners were told to bring Bibles and prayerbooks to church and to read them at home also, and sermons were often repeated as catechism by clergymen standing at the altar at the end of the main morning service or at evensong. In this way, more were confronted with the

329

Blackall, ch. 4; Graff, Auflösung, i. 169–71.

330

Grünberg, Spener, ii. 32 passim.

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New Testament's practical teaching. But Pietist clergy never tampered with customary church order. A reformer like Rambach kept fivefold usage; the number of obligatory sermons remained unchanged. Plain Pietist discourse often lacked order. There was still a sense that congregations were not responding. Pietist clergy such as Mickwitz in Reval, poured out hearts in spiritual diaries and correspondence on how (in his cathedral parish) three Sunday sermons, three sermons on each of the three major Christian festivals, weekday sermons, and sermons on days of intercession and many saints' days, mocked time for prayer, pastoral visits, and even meals.331 Subsequent Moravian lay preaching, which bypassed the Lutheran preaching office altogether, achieved more, it seemed, with the locals. Pietist homiletic reform benefited, however, from a more open post-war clerical environment. Parish clergy were interested in Anglican models, and they learnt from the reformation of manners and language at Saxon universities such as Leipzig and Jena, and Lower Saxon universities such as Helmstedt, and modern Göttingen. Leipzig and Jena collections of sermons began to print Anglican sermons after 1700; the chief spokesmen of up-to-date Anglican preaching, Tillotson, Stillingfleet, and Beveridge, became known. Stillingfleet appeared in editions of 1724, and 1732; Tillotson in 1715 and 1728–36; and Beveridge as Merkwürdige Reden (eight volumes, 1732–9).332 These translations showed that modern vernacular preaching was not a Hallesian preserve. Stillingfleet and Beveridge were translated by one of Dresden's court chaplains (1707–37), Karl Gottfried Engelschall (1675–1738); Tillotson was edited in 1715 by Bernhard Walther Marperger (1682–1746), Francke's mild-mannered pupil and a popular Saxon hymn-writer. Thereafter, Marperger as Dresden's senior court chaplain (1724–46) popularized Tillotson and Anglican preaching amongst his Saxon clergy: he introduced a 1728 edition of Tillotson's sermons edited by Lessing's father, Johann Gottfried (1693–1770), a pastor at Kamenz (since 1724), and approved further translation (Mosheim supplied a preface) in eight

331

Winkler, Mickwitz, 13–14.

332

‘Engellische Prediger-Methode’, Hallbauer, Nöthiger Unterricht, 478; C. Weidling, Oratorischer Kern der gelehrten Engelländischen Redner (Leipzig, 1700); Schian, 4, 132–8. Gottfried Lessing also translated John Tillotson, Glaubens-Regel (1731), see NDB. Bossuet was first translated at Leipzig (1750); Jacques Saurin (1721, 1736–8) via Reformed and Huguenot congregations, ibid. 141–8.

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volumes (1728–36) by another Saxon parish clergyman (Johann Martin Darnmann). Anglican preaching (from a sister church which opposed Rome) was valued by Saxon clergy for its thoughtful, orderly argument which stuck to the point and avoided concordances, and for its insight into daily ethical behaviour. Saxon urban clergy learnt from local theoretic works too. Influential were two books by a Thuringian pupil of Halle and Jena, Friedrich Andreas Hallbauer (1692–1750), professor of eloquence and poetry at Jena from 1731: Nöthiger Unterricht zur Klugheit erbaulich zu Predigen (1723), and Anweisung zur verbesserten Teutschen Oratorie (1725). These pointed to a need for a style (Schreibart), which was correct, pure (meaning free of Latin and Greek and foreign words), clear, and followed idiom used by both congregation and a reading public. Preachers were asked to bear situation and audience in mind: sermons in castle chapels were not suitable in village churches. Hallbauer's arguments were complemented by Gottsched's modern grammar: his preliminary Grundriβ zu einer Vernunfftmäβigen Redekunst (1729), and his mature Ausführliche Redekunst (1736), which parodied preaching he called ‘dressing oneself up with parrot-feathers’.333 Gottsched gave modern preachers two basic rules: be true to character, and address the varied audience sitting before them in pews. It was Mosheim, however, who pioneered modern Protestant ‘homiletics’ in modern German at Helmstedt and Göttingen: two universities where the language of modern public law was being developed contemporaneously. Though trained in university theology, Mosheim passed it by, given his experience of bitter theological squabbles he called rabies theologorum between two Pietist and Orthodox general superintendents (Sandhagen and Schwartz) in Danish Slesvig and Holsten, and the brutal course of the Great Northern War in these duchies while studying at Kiel University and tutoring a local noble family (1716–23). Provincial unrest was a major reason why Mosheim rejected appointment at Copenhagen under Frederick IV (1722), and chose instead tranquil provincial Helmstedt, despite a drop in salary (200 instead of 600 thalers).334 Mosheim saw confessional peace, an end to pulpit polemics, and a need to break out of backward and narrow-minded Landeskirchen as essential. At Kiel, he also learnt

333

Schian, 128.

334

Mosheim to Hertel, 2 Dec. 1722, Heussi, Mosheim, 65.

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Early Church history, and became aware of Dutch Reformed theology, after 1718 contributing articles on the Early Church to Bremen's Bibliotheca Bremensis Historico-critica. At tranquil Helmstedt (1734–47), Mosheim found time to develop a vernacular homiletics which prepared ordinands professionally for pastoral work. Common sense and a latitudinarian piety were the heart of Mosheim's teaching. To amplify his views, he used the first modern journals and newspapers, the modern Leipzig grammar of his friend and correspondent, Gottsched (he was responsible for Mosheim's election as president of Leipzig's Deutsche Gesellschaft on Mencke's death, 1732), and Tillotson's modern Anglican sermons, which Mosheim edited as a popular octavo edition in 1736. Mosheim's Heilige Reden über wichtige Wahrheiten der Lehre Jesu Christi (1725), based on sermons delivered in Helmstedt university chapel and at Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel's court, was Lutheran Germany's first modern book of sermons. It was one which addressed the pew, criticized worldly courts and aristocrats, and tried to counter Deist philosophy by arguing that parish clergy were still important in a modern civil order. Hearts and understanding were moved towards Christ by being ‘orderly and clear’, proving ‘correctly and thoroughly what one preached’, ending with an ‘awakening’ to Christian moral action (Mosheim used Erweckung in conjunction with the words Gebrauch and Nutzen). Mosheim's was a collection which mixed Pietism with modern manners; a common-sense style with true repentance and conversion; Gottsched with Rambach (Fresenius's 1736 edition of Rambach's Praecepta homiletica). Sermons were not a matter of yea or nay, but Christian conviction. Praxis pietatis should be neither too hard nor too light; diction neither too learned nor plebeian. On the other hand, preaching was not a matter for all; it was a reborn pastor's duty in an established church. Mosheim, like his contemporary Pfaff, was a spirited defender of a professional and respected parish clergy. He was a man of his age: both as an advocate of established church order (Mosheim belonged to Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel's estates as professor, consistorial councillor, and abbot of two Lutheran monasteries, Mariental and Michaelstein), and as a post-war churchman whose piety and stoicism grew in a suffering Lutheran church (before peace in 1721), and in personal sorrow such as the deaths of his wife and mother in 1732. Mosheim was popular: he had to be virtually carried to the

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pulpit; soldiers were called in to keep order; printed sermons sold out in a month, and were frequently reprinted; translations into English, French, Dutch, Polish, and Spanish multiplied. Mosheim's homiletic tone of critical forbearance coloured the mid-century pulpit.335 In Scandinavia, Copenhagen clergy translated Halle, Leipzig, Tübingen, and Göttingen modern preaching after c.1730. Immigration provided preachers and an audience. Between the great fires of 1728 and 1769, Copenhagen's population grew from 76,000 to 92,500 (by 16.8%); many incomers were German civil servants, clergy, tradesmen, and craftsmen needed for the reconstruction of the city and by the state; many of these German civil servants and clergy had trained at pious Halle and Tübingen; and in turn they influenced Copenhagen Danish officialdom and clergy to visit (c. 1740–50) Leipzig and the new university of Göttingen to learn modern constitutional law and homiletics. Professionalization and Piety were sisters in establishing Copenhagen's reputation as the capital of a humane Protestant republic of letters during the reign of king Frederick V (1746–66). The Dane, Enevold Ewald (1696–1754) born in Tønder, educated at Kiel, Halle, and Jena under Buddeus (1714–18), a member of a southern Jutland pious clergy circle associated with the Brorson brothers, chaplain to Copenhagen's orphanage (1727), translator of Scriver's prayers, became Copenhagen's first popular Pietist preacher. He was helped by Copenhagen's orphanage printing house, which was freed from religious censorship in 1729, and started printing Hallesian homiletic literature. Halle also informed the pious patriotic preaching of Pontoppidan (the Conventicle Act 1741 forbade lay preaching) and fellow Danish bishops; Halle and Tübingen coloured the preaching of German Pietist Copenhagen clergy like Reuss, his Tübingen protégé, Eberhard David Hauber (1695–1756), since 1747 second pastor to St Peter, and Buddeus's pupil, the Saxon, Johann August Seydlitz (1704–51), since 1738 German chaplain at Vallø abbey and a Copenhagen professor. Characteristic too was the way modern Danish preaching spread as in Halle, Leipzig, Tübingen, Helmstedt, and Göttingen with a post-war development of modern Danish public law and Rigsmål (Danish above the dialects).

335

Mosheim wrote to Gottsched (1733) that he wished to learn Polish to see how well his German sounded in Polish, Heussi, 117.

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Much was due to Holberg, who had translated the values of Thomasian and Franckean Halle, Menckean and Gottschedian Leipzig, and Mosheimian Göttingen into Danish: as a Copenhagen professor (appointed in 1714 to improve Danish), and as patron of Sorø Academy (founded 1665), which he reopened in 1747 to train Danes in modern statecraft and manners. What was Danish and what was foreign, what was a national language and what was dialect, what was provincial and what was Copenhagen, were differentiated as language, manners, and preaching by Holberg: both as a teacher interested in a modern church and state, and as a popular writer of social behaviour and playwright (after 1748 in a new Royal Theatre).336 But Holberg, like Pontoppidan and Mosheim, united piety and professional values with respect for an established order in which he felt customs and manners (Sæder, Skikke) counted. Holberg never attacked the clergy. In an autocracy, prudence also suggested latitudinarianism of a kind Holberg described as, ‘I walk in the middle of the road between the Moravian Brotherhood and the Naturalists: between those who totally reject Reason, and those who offer too much incense on its altar.’337 It was safer to use the moral arm of the state, and new public learned societies—Videnskabernes Selskab (1742), or Langebek's Selskab til det dansk Sprog og Histories Forbedring renamed Det kongelige danske Selskab for Fædrelandets Historie og Sprog (1745)—to bring up to date and polish, and bridge the cultural and religious gap between modern Copenhagen and provincial provinces.

V. Hymns Poor congregational hymn-singing led by clergyman, cantor, or verger, were characteristic of both town and country in the early eighteenth century (hymn-boards were introduced first after 1700). But change towards the congregational hymn did take place. In the seventeenth century the stock of vernacular hymns, as of prayers, had increased substantially and haphazardly: from c.160–270 in 1600, to 500–1,000 in 1700. This was due to increased competition

336

Skautrup, Det Danske Sprogs Historie, iii. 1, 21–2; Eaton, German Influence in Danish Literature, 25–6, 50 passim.

337

‘Thi jeg gaaer en Middel-Vej imellem Mæhriske Brødre og Naturalister, imellem dem der gandske forkaste Fornuften, og dem der ofre for megen Røgelse paa dens Altar’, Epistola, no. 17.

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between printers as the privilege to print widened, and a demand for more choice by new urban wealth and a rising civic culture after 1648. Printers also monopolized sales with so-called serial hymn-books (Reihengesangbücher) printed by the same printer again and again in the same town: in Berlin the ‘Crüger’ hymn-book was published in forty-five editions (1646–1736): Gesenius's Hanover hymn-book (1646) continued unrevised until 1737; Wittenberg's (1733) hymn-book supplied seven prefaces starting with three of Luther's and four of successive general superintendents. With time these hymn-books became encyclopaedic as a result of addition and choice; on average containing 500–800 hymns. As with prayer, there was a significant rise in household hymns (Hauslieder) after 1648. These were written to suit daily circumstance (allerhand Anliegen und Zustände), spiritual crisis as with penitential hymns, and the Christian life (Christliches Leben und Wandel). The popularity of these rubrics indicated the presence of a wider educated culture at a time when the last folio hymn-books designed solely for use by the parish clergyman, verger or cantor were printed (Frankfurt am Main and Stuttgart, 1711).338 Rulers and town councils in their quest for proper representation and improved public order (flags and soldiers) also helped sales. After 1700 it became customary to grant the privilege to print only after approval by a court chaplain, or consistory (general superintendent), who introduced a ‘correct’ selection. These appeared as the national hymn-books of Sweden (1695) and Denmark (1699); as authorized hymn-books in German cities like Hamburg (1700), Lübeck (1703), and Berlin (1704); and in provinces like Swedish Pomerania (1717). Doctrinal text and melodies changed too. Widespread debate about the relationship between hymns in the original and new hymns appeared in the churchscape of liturgical reform and a new urban, post-war, burgher culture described already (Ch. 8). Some argued that new hymns and melodies would muddle congregations used to a small stock of memorized hymns year in, year out. Parishioners would worry about what and how to sing, and revision would be seen as criticism of the correctness of traditional Reformation hymns. The saying, ‘Mutata musica in templis, mutat etiam genus doctrinae’ was ventilated. Freylinghausen's Pietist Hallesian hymn-book (1704), and a Pietist hymn-book authorized

338

‘Gesangbuch’, MGG, cols. 1886–7; hymn-boards: Bachmann, Geschichte der Berliner Gesangbücher, 8; Cunz, Geschichte des deutschen Kirchenliedes, ii. 90.

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by Nordhausen's city council (1735) caused much upset. Wittenberg's faculty of theology worried greatly: Freylinghausen had left out many well-known hymns such as ‘Erhalt uns Herr, bei deinem Wort’, changed others beyond recognition, failed to name authors, introduced a large number of doctrinally suspect ‘enthusiastic’ hymns, and many ‘springing dactylic songs’ accompanied by unspiritual three-beat minuets: ‘almost exuberant melodies’ ( fast üppigen Melodien).339 In the imperial city, Nordhausen, a bruising pamphlet war dividing citizens and clergy was fought for some ten years (c.1725–35) between a reforming city council supportive of Freylinghausen, and the city's consistory. Mayor and council replaced in 1735 Nordhausen's authorized hymn-book (1686–1735), composed by the city's cantor Christian Demelius (1669–1711), with a new hymn-book (605 hymns) in which 250 Reformation hymns including all of Luther's were replaced by hymns relating to Freylinghausen's order of salvation. Civic uproar followed; Leipzig and Rostock theologians countered in 1737 and 1738 using Wittenberg's arguments: Rostock even threatened intervention by the Corpus Evangelicorum. In the end the usual compromise was reached: a reprint (1737) included in an appendix some of the old hymns; but the revised Pietist hymn-book remained in use until 1802.340 The outcome was symptomatic of similar change taking place in prayer and preaching. Lutheran justification was replaced by ‘Christ for us’: meaning His comfort and His moral teaching for parishioners as Christian individuals. On the other hand, the theological contrast between Orthodoxy and Pietism furnishes only part of an explanation for this development. The hymn-books of both theological tendencies showed a growing fashion for the rubric ‘man’ (Mensch). There was a marked increase in hymns arranged under the rubric ‘Love of Christ and of God’, and those under ‘The Christian Life’ (virtues and duties) both in authorized hymn-books such as those of Riga (1689), Lüneburg (1694), Berlin (1704), and Nuremberg (1727), and Pietist hymn-books such as those of Halle

339

‘Francke’ MGG ; Wittenberg criticism, and comments by Wittenberg general superintendent, Gottlieb Wernsdorff (d. 1720), Diss. de prudentia in cantionibus ecclesiasticis adhibenda, cited Bachmann, 137–9.

340

C. G. Kluge, Historischer Bericht von dem neuen Nordhäusischen Gesang-Buchs (Wittenberg, 1737); W. Lidke, ‘Der Streit um das Nordhäuser Gesangbuch von 1735’, JLH 3 (1957), 133–7; F. de Boor, ‘Der Nordhäuser Gesangbuchstreit 1735–1738’, Pietismus und Neuzeit, 1 (1974), 100–13.

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(Freylinghausen 1704), and Darmstadt (Rambach 1733). Hallesian Pietism's vernacular call to a definite faith really benefited from changing fashion as it did from prayer and the sermon. Freylinghausen and most Pietist hymn-books (Nordhausen 1735; Königsberg 1735, 1744; Wurttemberg 1740) strengthened individual Christian emphasis with the rubrics, ‘The True Faith’ (Vom wahren Glauben), and ‘The Joy of Faith’ (Von der Freudigkeit des Glaubens). Christ offering consolation and comfort to an awakened Christian replaced Lutheran atonement and forgiveness. Personal disposition (Gemüt), conviction (Gesinnung), the state of one's personal faith, and Christian conduct were aimed specifically at an ‘awakened’ Christian. Sinfulness resided in an individual's physical and moral nature; consciousness of this sin—guilt—was awakened by self-examination; an individual was exonerated by rebirth and virtuous deeds. There was less of God's ‘objective’ grace. God and man became separate rubrics. The Hanover hymn-book (1737) contained the division doctrine (Glaubenslehre) in part one Vom Gott, and moral teaching (Sittenlehre) in part two, Vom Menschen. Rogall in his preface to Königsberg's hymn-book (1744) stated likewise: ‘A collection of devotional hymns is printed here. Use them for your own edification and awakening to praise God in such a way that you select those hymns from this collection which apply to your situation [die sich für deinen Zustand schicken]’.341 The hymn-book had become by 1740 a handy book like a prayer-book containing a consoling and practical moral theology for parishioners. Both bridged parish church and home. Rambach wrote a hymn-book for use in church (1733) and one for use in the home (1735), saying in the first that a modern hymn-book was not simply another complete collection of old and new hymns, but a comprehensive collection of rubrics designed to make selection suit more easily the spiritual needs of individual parishioners. His was a ‘theologia dogmatica et moralis in hymnis’: similar prefaces introduced the Nordhausen (1735) and Stuttgart hymn-books (1740). On the other hand, one can make too much of prosy hymns. Melodies changed too to ease congregational participation in the framework of an urban Gregorian liturgy, and in the musically limited village church. Not only cantors such as Kuhnau and Bach, but also parish clergymen such as Francke began to see modern

341

Röbbelen, Theologie und Frömmigkeit, 43.

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polyphony as a way of ‘awakening pious feeling and directing spiritual edification’.342 Francke's rules for his orphanage and paedagogium (1702 and 1721) emphasized the value of a child's musical education as a warm-hearted way to instil knowledge of God and Christian ethics. Daily lessons began with singing a hymn ‘slowly, modestly, and with true devotion’; instrumental lessons with alto flute, lute, viola da gamba, and piano followed. Freylinghausen's hymn-book, which included ‘notes of the most well-known melodies’, served this end by using known local composers, and melodies in the modern minuet style as a way of encouraging parishioners to enjoy singing. But criticism by Wittenberg theologians showed, as did parochial criticism of Bach's cantatas and Passions, that use of modern secular music such as dance and opera to encourage a congregational response remained suspect. On the other hand, a reformed language and melodic structure by c.1740 made it easier for parishioners to sing hymns. In Denmark, Hans Adolf Brorson introduced Freylinghausen's hymns and melodies as well as his own into Pontoppidan's Den nye Psalmebog (1740–2), and established that slow congregational rhythm which became known in 1760 as the ‘stiff chorale’.343 On the other hand, the presence of many Protestant authorities, uncritical compilation and addition, and a lack of basic ground rules, meant that, for a long time before both Enlightenment and Revival, a common core of serviceable congregational hymns never really established itself. Fundamental reform began only after 1850.

342

MGG, s.v. ‘Francke’.

343

Sørensen, ‘Allgemeines über den dänischen protestantischen Kirchengesang’, Kieler Schriften zur Musikwissenschaft, 16 (1965), 17–18.

Part II Piety, Enlightenment? Religious Awakening, Rediscovery (C.1763–1918)

Map 1. Germany in 1800

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Map 2. Scandinavia/Baltic

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INTRODUCTION

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Introduction A chain of momentous political changes induced by state legislation, revolutionary times, and war put an end to the old order in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia. By 1830, the tercentenary of the Lutheran Augsburg Confession of Faith, the following had affected the periphery as much as the centre: an enlightened reform, beginning c.1770, of public order and public worship; a long unsettled quarter-century of revolution and war (after 1789); collapse of the Catholic Empire (1803–6); separation of Sweden and Finland (1809), and Denmark and Norway (1814); and after 1815, the emergence of a new, but still latent, ‘constitutional’ political and religious order in a fresh religious awakening. A more stable Protestant identity became evident for the first time at the end of the Seven Years' War (1763). Catholic ascendancy seemed to be on the wane. The old Catholic Polish Commonwealth disappeared in three Partitions (1772–95); the Jesuit Order was dissolved in 1773; public holidays on the main festivals, Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun (usually the third day, but in Sweden also a fourth) were abolished, and several saints' days in the Catholic calendar were reduced, or transferred to the following Sunday as a way of improving both Sunday observance and labour efficiency, in Denmark and her duchies, Slesvig and Holsten (1770–1), Sweden (1772), and BrandenburgPrussia (1773).344 Brandenburg-Prussia under Frederick the Great (1740–86) looked at last like a united Protestant state after his conquest of Lutheran Silesia in 1740, and the linkage of identifiable ‘West’ and ‘East’ Prussias in 1772. It was possible to think of Berlin for the first time as a common Protestant Prussian capital. Symptomatic of this more relaxed and congenial

344

In Denmark (26 Oct. 1770), Slesvig (5 Nov. 1770), and Holsten (28 Sept. and 15 Nov. 1771), the Purification and Visitation of the Virgin Mary, St Hans, St Michael, and All Saints, Holm, Danmark-Norges Historie, iv/2. 105; in Sweden (4 Nov. 1772) Visitation of the Virgin Mary, Maundy Thursday, the days of the Apostles, and the Rogation Days. Purification of the Virgin Mary, St Michael, and All Saints were transferred to the next Sunday, Lindberg, Kyrkans heliga år, 443; earlier parliamentary complaints (1738, 1741) about many lost labour days, ibid. 441–2.

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Protestant environment was the popular shaggy-dog story about established Lutheran churchmanship—Life and Opinions of Sebaldus Nothanker (1773–6; English 1798)—modelled on Tristram Shandy, written by the enlightened Berlin publisher, Friedrich Nicolai (1733–1811), and illustrated with irreverent clerical copperprints by Daniel Chodowiecki (1726–1801). There was a sense too of a Prussian claim to Protestant German leadership of a modern tolerant kind after the conquest of Silesia, Frederick the Great's official abolition on 24 January 1750 of public prayers (Fürbitte) for the Catholic Emperor, and his string of Prussian victories in the Seven Years' War. The two decades following 1790 were a political watershed for both Catholic and Protestant established churches in the Empire. Secularization of Catholic German spiritual states in 1803 transferred 10,000 square German miles, and three million Catholic subjects to German temporal states. Catholics in Germany were confronted with the modern sovereign state for the first time. Concordats, treaties between the papal curia and states modelled on Napoleon's French concordat (1801), became instruments of curial policy for reaching the constitutional status of a most-favoured church. After 1815, German Protestant churches were forced to keep this modern Catholic constitutional arrangement constantly in view. Remapping political boundaries (1803–15) thus spelt the end of the structure of patriarchal precontractual Reformation church order in many large and little Lutheran states and towns. Saxony lost much Lutheran territory including Wittenberg to Prussia (57.5% of territory; 42% of her population); the extended Lutheran family of princes in Thuringia was reduced to only eight little Lutheran states. Local Lutheran sixteenth-century church order preserved in a massive stockpile of post-Reformation edicts and laws contained in ecclesiastical law-books began to gather dust. In Scandinavia too, the old patriarchal and customary order of two Lutheran dual monarchies crumbled. Finland in 1809 (linked to Russia as a grand duchy until 1917), and Norway in 1814 (linked, less firmly, to Sweden until 1905) moved in the direction of national Lutheran churches. The traditional Reformation balance of higher learning was altered radically by this political realignment. In Germany, a significant number of Catholic and Protestant universities disappeared. Ten Catholic universities and seminaries were dissolved between

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1794 and 1826: Cologne (1794), Mainz and Trier (1798), Bamberg (1803), Dillingen (1804), Paderborn (1808). Fulda (1809), Breslau (1811), Münster (1818), and Ingolstadt was moved first to Landshut before being absorbed by Munich (1826). After 1815 there were three Catholic universities only: Freiburg (1457—its theology faculty was united with Heidelberg's in 1807), Würzburg (1567, 1582–7), and Munich. Protestant universities fared little better: eight disappeared between 1792 and 1818: Lutheran Strasburg (1792), Altdorf (1807), Lutheran Rinteln (1809), Lutheran Helmstedt (1809), Reformed Frankfurt an der Oder (1811), Lutheran Erfurt (1816), Lutheran Wittenberg (1817—a Prussian town since 1815), and Reformed Duisburg (1818). In Lutheran Germany, Strasburg, Helmstedt, and Wittenberg were the obvious symbolic losses, although all three had been overtaken since 1750 by modern theological curricula taught at Halle, Göttingen, and Erlangen (1743). Only twelve Protestant German universities remained: Saxon Leipzig, Jena, Prussian Königsberg and Halle (Wittenberg was turned into a Prussian theological seminary in 1817), Kiel, Rostock, Greifswald, Giessen, Marburg, Heidelberg (restored as a Reformed university in 1803), and two new universities: Hanoverian Göttingen (1737), and Erlangen (1743) under Ansbach-Bayreuth (1769–91), Prussia (1791–1810), and Catholic Bavaria thereafter. Göttingen and Erlangen, in contrast to their sister Protestant universities, offered modern secular subjects which were taught in a philosophical faculty freed from tradition and vested interests associated with theology and law.345 In Scandinavia, Copenhagen lost its Norwegian ordinands to Christiania, founded by King Frederick VI (1808–39), hence the name ‘Fredericiana’ in 1811 (theology faculty in 1813). Åbo (10,224 inhabitants), which had Finnish capital status until civil and military authorities were moved to Helsinki (4,065 inhabitants) in 1821, became in 1808–9, with its grand new classical main building only three-quarters finished, the new home university for Finnish ordinands, but this did not last long; after a disastrous fire in 1827, which destroyed most of the town, the university also moved to Helsinki. Earlier ties with Uppsala and Lund came to an end. In Livonia and

345

Swiss Reformed Basle University, reorganized in 1818, soon became a refuge for political and religious ‘radicals’. Frederick William III forbade Prussian students to study there in 1824, TRE, s.v. ‘Basel Universität’. Strasburg was reopened in 1872.

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Estonia, Czar Alexander I restored Dorpat in 1802 as both a ‘Russian’ university, and a home university training sons of the indigenous German gentry. The Russian Lutheran Church Law (1832; §§ 136, 151) conferred eventually a privileged status on Lutheran Dorpat and Helsinki rather like Anglican Oxford and Cambridge; prospective ‘foreign’ Lutheran theology students needed the approval of the Ministry of the Interior.346 In Germany, this meant a shift towards ‘Protestant’ learning in the modern expanding Prussian state after reform (1806–15), and in both Germany and four new Scandinavian states, a shift towards a gradual increase of state control of Protestant and Catholic higher education. Four new German universities—Protestant Berlin (1809), Breslau, which absorbed Reformed Frankfurt an der Oder (1811), Bonn (1818), and Catholic Munich (1826) were founded by the kings of Prussia and Bavaria, and not as formerly by pope or emperor. New statutes (1830) also turned Leipzig into a state university. In the new German political map of 1815, Protestant faculties were gradually forced to coexist with Catholic faculties under a curator appointed by the state. These theological faculties fell increasingly under direct supervision of state education and finance departments. Catholic and Protestant theologians became public servants: their salaries, instruction, and examinations state matters. The new sovereign power of the state was personified in Prussia by Karl von Altenstein (1770–1840); since 1817, following French example, called Kultusminister (Minister for Church Affairs and Education). At Prussian Bonn, he unashamedly appointed safe men to professorships in the new Protestant theology faculty to ensure the successful establishment of the 1817 Prussian Union between Lutheran and Reformed churches in the Rhineland and Westphalia. It was an academic policy which forced Prussian Catholic bishops immediately on the defensive, to fight very hard for Catholic higher learning, and to re-emphasize postTridentine arguments for episcopal seminaries as the best way to train Catholic ordinands. New political units which often included other religious persuasions caused Protestant churchmen to think once again about the Reformation church as establishment. But different from previous arguments was the way the two Reformation tercentenaries of 1817

346

‘Diese Universität wird für das ganze Russische Reich, vorzüglich aber für die Ritterschaften Lieflands und Ehstlands errichtet’, university statutes § 1, 5 Jan. 1802, R. von Engelhardt, Die Deutsche Universität Dorpat etc. (Reval, 1933), 31.

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and 1830 witnessed widespread public debate on a scale unheard of before about the nature of religious articles (Bekenntnis), and their validity within the new political framework. How did a Reformation prince's or town's consistory fit in? Was it solely Lutheran or Reformed, or both, and could it include Catholics as well? What did the privileged status of an established church within state boundaries which included other sizeable religious minorities mean? In Germany, the relationship of Lutheranism to Calvinism was raised once again, particularly in Prussia and south-western Germany; but this was a debate which was tempered by the experience of lay Pietism and Moravianism, and by an enlightened clergy generation which remained in office until roughly 1840. Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834), in a profusion of sermons, political tracts, and essays composed between 1817 and 1830, personified at Berlin this re-evaluation, and a serious attempt by his generation of Prussian senior clergy to unite Lutheran and Calvinist churches. Schleiermacher was one of the first German senior Protestant clergy to recognize that church and state were beginning to confront one another politically as separate entities. The social map of the Reformation crumbled too. The old collective and statutory socio-economic and religious order of dependent relationships was forced to change by a rising population after 1750. In the century to 1850 the German population increased from, very roughly, 18.4 to 35 million; that of Sweden from 1.8 to 3.5 million; that of Finland from 0.5 to 1.6 million; that of Denmark from 0.7 to 1.4 million; and that of Norway from 0.7 to 1.4 million. More people put pressure both on the land, forcing parishioners to move outside the home parish, and on states and landowners to introduce a new political economy which saw wealth creation rather than custos ecclesiae as the summum bonum. Enclosure of the old communal strip-field economy thus took place in most German and Scandinavian Protestant parishes in this period. This was accompanied between 1786 and 1800 by the abolition of serfdom and the regulation of labour services in Denmark, and by partial peasant emancipation (the peasant received personal freedom only; disposal of the land remained with 2,582 manors) between 1802 and 1819 in Estonia, Courland, and Livonia. New husbandry and enclosure dissolved collective village statutory order (Dorfordnung; Byalag in Swedish) and official village collective piety, which had proved so resistant to enlightened theoretic arguments for change before

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1800. This became visible (c.1800–30) in Denmark and Sweden in the shape of individual farms situated outside the village, and as a rapidly growing cottar and day labourer class; in a more limited sense (mainly as a day-labourer class) on estates farming after 1750 for export in German Holstein, the Pomeranias and Mecklenburgs, and in Livonia and Estonia in the period of partial peasant emancipation. A new money economy implied the end both of the old collective social order visible as shepherds and shepherd-boys attending communal flocks of sheep and other livestock, and of the collective country parish congregation performing corporate parish communion, observing the communal discipline of village ordinances, and combining official and popular religion—notably observance of the Catholic calendar and Proper of the Saints contained in almanacs. The first surnames replacing patronymics or birthplace began to appear in parish registers. The parcelling out of land led many to name themselves after the place or locality, or very often the feelings associated with it. In Denmark, a baptismal ordinance (Dåbsforordning, 30 May 1828) ordered parish clergy to ensure that no improper names were used. Town walls and fortifications were pulled down too at this time. There was no going back to the collective Lutheran church of the old order after 1830. Widespread spiritual disorientation in a harsh post-war economic climate was often the source of a new religious awakening which began to emphasize lay churchmanship, lay education, and lay political action. On the other hand, this introductory sketch of momentous political changes putting the relationship of church and state into a new ‘constitutional’ form can be very misleading. It was very difficult to separate the church-state of Reformation church orders in parishioners' minds. The frequently used contrasts, Enlightenment and religious revival which followed almost everywhere, mask an ambiguous relationship. These grand keywords representing historical change do not necessarily represent a sharp contrast or reaction, nor was the Enlightenment that secular spirit which weakened nineteenth-century German and Scandinavian Protestant (and Catholic) learning and churchmanship as subsequent historiography coloured by religious revival has claimed. Previous chapters have shown that active churchgoing was always accompanied by ignorance of Christian teaching, superstition or popular religion, and parish convention. These large-scale mutations passed almost unnoticed in the everyday life of Protestant parishes. The hand of

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the past severely restricted the reforming zeal of enlightened government, and a pastorate consisting of senior and parish clergy reformers concerned with advancing the material well-being and educational standards of parishioners in town and country. Sixteen months of enlightened Danish government by the German physician, Johann Friedrich Struensee (1737–72), between 14 September 1770 and 17 January 1772, put a brief end to Danish censorship (restored in 1799), abolished several saints' days in the interests of a more efficient labour force, and legislated for better parish poor relief. This period was noted, both at home and abroad, less for Struensee's programme of modernization in the Danish public interest than for his ‘conversion’ from an alleged Deism to a positive Christian faith and sense of sin, at the instigation of Balthasar Münter (1735–93), senior of Copenhagen's German congregation, St Peter, while Struensee was in prison awaiting his public execution in Copenhagen on 28 April 1772.347 Struensee's many improving edicts (some 1,880) also hastened a new patriotic and conservative mood amongst Danish clergy and middle-class citizens. This sought a return to positive religion and Danish ways rather than continued government by German high officials infected by German university enlightenment. One could not go too far. A few years later, in 1776, Goethe's Leiden des jungen Werthers was banned by Copenhagen's theology faculty just like any other academic thesis which contained false teaching on faith and morals (it was translated first in 1832); and in 1779, a sharp public attack by the chief pastor of Holy Trinity, Copenhagen, Johan Christian Schønheyder (1742–1803) on a poem by a senior civil servant, August Hennings (1746–1826), which praised Pablo de Olavide (arrested by the Spanish Inquisition on 14 November 1776 and condemned in 1778 to eight years' seclusion in a monastery) as a model enlightened reformer of education and agriculture, led to a bitter public row amongst Copenhageners.348

347

Münter's German Bekehrungsgeschichte (Copenhagen, 1772) was translated into most European languages; in English: A Faithful Narrative of the conversion and death of Count Struensee etc. (London, 1773; 2nd edn. 1774; others, 1824, 1825, 1826). Many Danish clergy preached thanksgiving sermons praising God for causing Struensee's fall; thus protecting the royal house and weakening the arguments of scoffers, Koch, Oplysningstiden, 32–4; Venturi, End of the Old Regime, 257 passim.

348

Goethe, and Olavide: Københavns universitet, v. 268–9. The Holsteiner, Hennings, trained in political economy at Göttingen (1763–6), made a name for himself as a modern economist (he approved of Adam Smith) and agricultural reformer in the Danish ministry (college) of economic affairs and commerce after 1776.

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In the average rural German and Scandinavian parish, the pace of life remained extremely slow: roads were poor (except in Sweden); news took time to reach its destination; hard rural labour left little time for more than conventional churchmanship. The appearance of a new, politically radical, urban press (1770–1800) should not be overestimated. One of the first accurate Danish topographic accounts written by a Danish clergyman in 1795 noted in a chapter called ‘Culture and Enlightenment’, that his royalist peasant parishioners in his central Jutland parish understood next to nothing about affairs of state or political matters; at most interest in news amounted to an often-repeated question, ‘How is the war getting on out there in the Sound?’349 Almost everywhere, parishioners rejected enlightened High German, Danish, or Swedish preaching, up-to-date liturgies, and hymn-books composed in the last third of the eighteenth century. Preference was given to Luther's Little Catechism, Orthodox and Pietist catechisms and hymn-books, and Protestant devotional literature of the period before 1750. Visitation diaries and reports noted, despite the massive effort made by this enlightened clergy generation towards improving parish welfare and education, a gap between enlightened clergy and congregation which was still as wide as that under Orthodoxy noted by Pietist clergy at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Parish habits seemed to be immune to reform. An observant and sympathetic German parish clergyman noted in a survey of Swedish church life, based on a visit between May 1817 and February 1818, confident hearts and feelings of parishioners for the established ritual of public worship in town and country: that Sweden's Sunday observance legislation (1686, 1734, 1746) was in practice observed more punctually than the letter.350 Sweden's Church Law required Sunday to begin at 7 p.m. on the previous Saturday evening, but it was customary for countryfolk to stop work and start Sunday as early as 4 o'clock in the afternoon on Saturday. The head of the household collected his family and domestics together for prayers, a hymn or two, and readings from the Epistle and Gospel contained in Sunday's pericopes. In some places, particularly northern Sweden, an entire village came together for Saturday evening prayers Byabönen. On weekdays too, a head of household

349

‘Hudden gor ed no te mæ e Kri ud i e Synnen?’, Niels Blicher, Topographie over Vium Præstekald, 136–7.

350

Schubert, Schwedens Kirchenverfassung und Unterrichtswesen, i. 412, 437–42.

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held family prayers when the family rose in the morning and before going to bed at night. A child was often called to say prayers as a way of introducing the young to the rhythm of worship at home and in church. Grace at table, mornings and evenings, was a hallowed rite. The main Sunday morning service with parish communion was taken very seriously every Sunday in town and country, and in the capital, Stockholm. Customary communal established order seemed intact, despite the onward march of enclosure and modern farming.351 Politically too, natural law in the shape of the modern unitary state, individual freedom of conscience, and a growing freedom of political association, still remained subordinate in parishioners' minds to the ruler, landowner, or master of the household acting as ‘nurse’, and to the idea of religious confession as a fundamental political article of state conferring citizenship. Prince or king still performed a religious duty to subjects as defender of the one true faith. Terminology describing church and state remained loosely defined. It was impossible in the early nineteenth century to speak of a Lutheran, or Reformed church in Brandenburg-Prussia. Officially, there was a Lutheran and a Reformed Kirchenwesen in His Majesty of Prussia's Lands and Provinces. Church meant either the religious entity ‘church’, or parish churches. In Sweden, ‘religion of the realm’, ‘religion of the land’, ‘the one and true religion’ continued as official parlance.352 In Denmark, ‘church-state’ (Kirke-Stat), or ‘the King's religion’ (Kongensreligion) remained in use until a new parliamentary constitution in 1849 finally swept away the oldest European absolute monarchy. Church order continued to vary from area to area, looked after it was by local consistories and patrons, and maintained by different parish sources of income such as from religious foundations and patrons, and from alms, benefactions, and tithes in kind. Political reorganization in 1815 really made visible for the first time this immense variety of customary arrangements. In the new Prussian state, paltry stipends, poorly maintained church buildings, and unreformed parish boundaries became visible publicly in the reports and petitions of a widespread Lutheran parish opposition to the official Union of Lutheran and Reformed faiths in 1817, and King Frederick William III's imposition of his common ReformedLutheran rite in 1822.

351

Ibid. 442–5.

352

Foerster, Entstehung der preussischen Landeskirche, i. 45–6; S. Kjöllerström, ‘Kirche und Staat in Schweden nach der Reformation’, ZSSRGkA 72 (1955), 272, 281.

10 The Larger Whole Ecclesiastical topography written by enlightened parish clergy was a genre characteristic of the period (1760–1840). Observation and description of the parish and the local church province, and comparisons between church province and church province, modelled on work done after 1720 by a Pietist generation, became visible as a growing view of the larger Protestant whole for the first time at the end of the Seven Years' War. This generation of clergy felt their Protestant identity more secure in what seemed to be a more stable post-war religious environment. The heroic confessional age was finally past. Pietism, and especially contemporary Moravianism (Ch. 11), also broke the spell of provincial church authority and its custom. Parish clergy were less theologically minded than their predecessors. Time was moving on too from personal spiritual renewal towards a more relaxed spirit of live-and-let-live in parish affairs. The common good of parish and country, civic virtue, or public spirit, became the common values of a clergy generation which considered a pastoral role shaped by these values as a patriotic duty to parishioners, and to the state in which they lived. Welfare of parishioners meant knowledge of their condition and history, and the recording of an order which this generation felt was beginning to pass. Johann David Michaelis (1717–91), the famous orientalist, professor in Göttingen's modern philosophical faculty (from 1750), wrote in his survey of German Protestant universities (1768–76) about history and geography, in this accurate descriptive and analytic sense, as important new teaching subjects recording and representing change since 1763.353 But this was a difficult public task, defined with feeling by Justus Möser (1720–94) in the introduction to his History of Osnabrück (1768): German historians needed finally to free themselves from Latin, and writing genealogies of ReichsBeamten; true patriotism was knowledge of one's own interdependent environment of customs, laws, and religion, as that written up in modern prose with

353

Raisonnement über die protestantischen Universitäten in Deutschland, i. 193–234.

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exemplary clarity by his British contemporary, David Hume. Möser emphasized, nevertheless, how his own feelings struggled with finding adequate words to describe his homeland at a time when its corporate and customary meaning was being changed by political arithmetic.354 Ecclesiastical topography was writing which sought to open parishes to a new public-spirited readership. The previous Pietist clergy generation had been both too zealous and too legalistic, in the sense of Mosheim's unkind jibe in his posthumous Protestant canon law (1760), that Thomasius's Hallesian canon law was one fashioned for a Turkish sultan.355 Göttingen university's tolerant mid-eighteenth-century curriculum offering a combination of civic education, statistics, and historical geography—political science (Staatskunde), to use the term of its academic pioneers, Mosheim, the clergyman, Anton Friedrich Büsching (1724–93), and the statistician Gottfried Achenwall (1719–72)—was more appealing to this public-spirited clergy generation. They began to describe the totality of the local church: its environment, constitution, and public worship; its parishioners, their popular religion, manners, and speech. If this private initiative in the last two decades of the eighteenth century exposed the labyrinthine and disorderly quality of the unprinted and published source material, these men attempted, neverthless, the first amateurish surveys of the whole. Figures were given, and parishes and parishioners opened to scrutiny for the first time. The first surveys of the Lutheran church in Denmark, Estonia and Livonia, and Sweden appeared between 1770 and 1820; German surveys followed in the two politically unsettled decades 1800–20; but the sheer size of the Protestant German task, and poor statistical compilation by individual states, meant the production of only one or two inaccurate and poorly organized attempts. A Danish clergyman, Henrich Ussing (1743–1820), published the first fairly accurate four-volume historical survey of the Danish church in the Helstat at Sorø—the seat of Göttingen learning in Denmark—in 1786–9, when peasant emancipation and enclosure began. In 1787 (the year of the first Danish census), Denmark-Norway contained fourteen dioceses, 3,272 parishes, and 2,267 clergy in a total population of some 2,300,000. This was a clergyman/ parishioner ratio of c.1:1000 in a Helstat comprising the two

354

Osnabrückische Geschichte allgemeine Einleitung (Osnabrück 1768), 16, 33–4, 137–8.

355

Mosheim, Allgemeines Kirchenrecht der Protestanten, 194.

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island dioceses of Sjælland (the archdiocese) and Fyn; the dioceses of Ribe, Aarhus, Viborg, Aalborg in Jutland; the two dioceses of Slesvig and Holsten; Aggershus or Christiania, Christiansand, Bergen, Trondheim in Norway, and Skalholt and Hoole in Iceland. Clergy totals were: Denmark, 1,244; Norway, 518; the two duchies, 483; and Iceland 217. Ussing totalled 2,462 clergy including private chaplains (2,267 parish clergy).356 Ussing numbered 3,272 parishes in the Helstat a year earlier in 1786. In Denmark, Sjælland diocese, excluding Copenhagen, contained 423; Copenhagen (including the castle congregation, eleven city parishes and ten comprising hospital chapels, the orphanage, and the prison), 21; Fyn, 320, Ribe, 178, Aarhus, 337, Viborg, 220, and Aalborg, 199; the Norwegian dioceses: Aggershus, 299; Christiansand, 154; Bergen, 160; and Trondheim, 231. Slesvig contained 234, and Holsten, 142; Icelandic Skalholt, 214, and Hoole, 101; the Faeroes, 39.357 Parish topography mixed statistics with a caring eye for parochial environment and psychology. Norwegian patriotic clergy began in the 1780s, a decade earlier than in Denmark. They gave their collective enterprise institutional shape by founding a corresponding Topographical Society (1791).358 The first Danish attempt, with this in mind dedicated to the Royal Danish Agricultural Society (1769), was by Niels Blicher (1748–1839), vicar of Vium and Lysgaard in central Jutland (1779–95), and father of the romantic clergyman-poet and perceptive social novelist (translator of Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield in 1837), Steen Steensen Blicher (1782–1848). Niels Blicher described his parish in 1795 just as the old rural order was changing. It was an open landscape of moorland, heath, and commons: on a clear day, from a height of 94 metres, it was possible to see with a naked eye the steeples of forty-one parish churches in his diocese, Aarhus, and the dioceses of Viborg and Ribe. Forty years later, when his son described Viborg county (1839), likewise for Denmark's Royal Agricultural Society, enclosure, hedging, ditching, and afforestation had obscured this view.359 Enlightenment meant Blicher's attempt to understand the condition—every

356

Ussing, Kirkeforfatningen (1786), ii. 281–2; (1787), iii/2. 827.

357

Ibid. ii (1786), 290–1.

358

O. Olafsen, ‘Topografisk literatur i vort land, især i ældre tid. Et topografisk selskab’, KK (1901), 433–40.

359

Niels Blicher, Topographie, 31–2; S. S. Blicher, Viborg Amt (1839), 3–4.

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thirteenth parishioner amongst 429 (1787) lived in ‘oppressive poverty’ (trykkende Fattigdom)—character, manners, dialect, and sayings of his parishioners; such knowledge helped him to help them live a better life: this, he argued, was a primary duty of the Christian church.360 Blicher's was a mild but sceptical eye: he also knew how to hold tongue in cheek. Parochial habits came and went, but were difficult to change once they had appeared. Recently most men wore their hats throughout worship. Formerly, only the elderly wore a red, brown, or green Hatteslag (a long knitted balaclava open at the mouth and falling to chest and shoulders); the better-off upper class wore green velvet hats with black bands. Now it was customary for the middle-aged and young to wear white, blue, or striped cotton hats. Blicher wished this had not become a habit, but he did not see it as dangerous or offensive. He thought of the women in Pauline Corinth (1 Corinthians 14: 34). Should he, the vicar, be the only one who became annoyed about what was really an unimportant habit? It was another matter, though, if members of his congregation became offended. He knew a very worthy, learned, and witty neighbour who had on various occasions criticized this habit as improper; but at the next festival the male pews were full of blue and white hats. Before reading the sermon's text, his colleague had cast his eye slowly round saying, ‘Before I utter another word of God today, off with your hats!’ This was done; hats disappeared for a while; but soon the habit crept in again.361 Blicher also mentioned his predecessor but one (1751–69), a Pietist who had experienced rapid preferment when Pietism was still official church policy. For the first three years he had been a zealous priest; he had railed from the pulpit against swearing, dancing, playing cards, and drink; but in the following seven years he began to show signs of mental disturbance: in one of his sermons he had spoken of himself as St Peter holding the keys to heaven and hell. On 1 April 1760, Vium vicarage burnt down; his mental state worsened considerably at this time; he carried on ‘so so’ for a few years. On the Sunday between Christmas and New Year 1767, after speaking about Simeon with the child Jesus in his arms, he began to sing the Nunc Dimittis in the middle of his sermon. He was relieved from his official duties, put under some supervision, and eventually in 1769, unfrocked and committed to an asylum where he remained

360

Niels Blicher, 99, 104.

361

Ibid. 143–5.

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until his death in 1787. Like Holberg, Blicher thought it perhaps prudent to keep to a happier ‘thrifty and moderate’ centre of the road. He had kept such a distance from magic, that he felt unsure whether he had fallen under the influence of Christian moralists.362 Words which jarred and he detested were, ‘demand’, ‘haggle over the price’, ‘make anxious’, ‘torment’, ‘extort’, ‘count out the grain’ (tælle Gryn).363 Blicher felt times had changed since 1770: social intercourse between equals in his parish was more refined; parishioners dropped from second person plural to third person singular when addressing the clergy and squires.364 On the other hand, there was much poverty, little sense of political change, and superstition was still rife amongst most of his flock at the end of the so-called ‘philosophical’ eighteenth century. Blicher thought the surest means of advancing culture and enlightenment was better schooling: certainly a far shorter catechism than even the enlightened one which was recently (1791) authorized, and provision of a far more elaborate reader. At the other end of the Baltic, parish and province in Estonia and Livonia were described topographically a little earlier (1774–82) in three detailed but not very accurate volumes (parish clergy and gentry sent in poor returns), modelled on Pontoppidan, by August Wilhelm Hupel (1737–1819), the Thuringian incumbent since 1767 of Estonia's largest parish, Oberpahlen (Poltsamaa). Hupel totalled roughly 300 churches in 1774: forty-five in towns and townships; the rest in the countryside. Of these, 178 were Lutheran parish churches (nine without an incumbent) served by 185 clergy. Twenty-two were Russian Orthodox churches; Riga contained one Reformed church, and one Catholic chapel; there were about eighty chapels-of-ease (Filialkirchen). The countryside contained 160 parishes.365 In Sweden, despite the provincial surveys of Linné, statistics provided by Sweden's Tabellverket (1749), attempts at parish topography such as that on Delsbo (1764) in Uppsala archdiocese by its vicar, Knut Lenæus (1688–1776), or handbooks (1760) like Sven wilskman's (1716–97)—clergy in parliament thirsting for something

362

Niels Blicher, 187–8.

363

Ibid. 196–7.

364

‘I Stedet for det gamle “I” til Herremand, Præst o.a. heder det nu: “han” og “Di” ’, ibid. 136.

365

Hupel, Topographische Nachrichten (1774). i. 87 passim ; (1782), iii. 4–5.

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reliable demanded a second edition (1781–2)—and Bælter's charming survey of Swedish public worship (1762; second edition 1783), serviceable descriptions of Sweden's parishes and national Lutheran church remained poor. Old ecclesiastical laws and statutes were collected for the first time in instalments between 1788 and 1795, and published in two volumes by Olof Wallquist (1755–1800), the eloquent preacher and political bishop of Växjö since 1787. Annual publication of the Swedish church's constitutional documents, Svensk författningssamling, began first in 1825. The first reliable survey of the Swedish church was published in 1820 at a time when Sweden's parishes were being changed by land reform and migration, by a former Swedish Pomeranian subject: the German superintendent of Altenkirchen on the island of Rügen since 1823, Friedrich Wilhelm von Schubert (1788–1856). Schubert, trained by Göttingen's modern curriculum, and an admirer of Johann Christian Wilhelm Augusti (1772–1841), the pioneer of ‘Christian archaeology’ in Germany (from 1819 professor of theology at Prussian Bonn), saw the tercentenary of Luther's theses as a golden opportunity at a time of rapid political change for observing between May 1817 and February 1818 a sister Reformation church. He noticed a Swedish royal church which was very different from Protestant Germany's provincial churches: so much traditional observance was retained from earlier times by an episcopal church similar to the Anglican church.366 The historical interconnection between church and state, and customary parish observance also seemed to continue despite Finnish separation, land survey, and enclosure which Schubert described in a three-volume complementary travelogue. In 1817, Sweden's twelve dioceses contained roughly 2,354 parishes and 1,218 mother parishes (Pastorate); Finland, two dioceses. Schubert's table (Table 10.1) showed clearly a core of medieval dioceses, to which were added former superintendencies as the Swedish state consolidated itself after 1650: Gothenburg (1665) and Kalmar (1678), and Karlstad, Härnösand, and Visby (1772). Description of Protestant Germany was another matter. The first numerical glimpse of the old ecclesiastical order mixing Catholic and Protestant under a Catholic Habsburg emperor appeared during French invasion in a sketchy balance dated 1 January 1792. Catholic

366

Schubert, ii. 420–7.

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Table 10.1. Swedish and Finnish Dioceses in 1817 Dioceses Sweden Uppsala (1100) (archdiocese incl. Stockholm) Skara (1015) Växjö (1030) Lund (1065; regained from Denmark 1658) Västerås (1080) Linköping (1080) Strängnäs (1100) Gothenburg (1665) Kalmar (1678) Karlstad (1772) Härnösand (1772) Visby (1772) Finland Åbo (1170) Viborg (1554) (Borgo)

Parishes

Pastorate*

244

166

353 185 428

113 90 223

103 210 158 252 58 129 142 92

84 147 102 102 45 40 63 43 127 83

* The term used for a mother parish. A senior clergyman, rector (Kyrkoherd), was served by several chaplains or deacons (Comministri). A Pastorat could contain up to seven parishes and as many churches. Source: Schubert, i. 152, 154–68, 213.

Germany contained some 142 larger and smaller territories: seventy-two spiritual princes (twenty-seven princebishops; forty-five abbots and abbesses, priors and prioresses), and seventy temporal princes. There were ninety-five Protestant little and large states; fourteen Catholic, thirty-two Protestant, and five interdenominational imperial cities: in all some 288 Christian units. This was a plural Christian order which defied accurate description; especially at a time when boundaries of church and state were changing almost day by day.367 However, an attempt was made at modern Göttingen by the

367

J. F. von Schulte, Geschichte der Quellen und Literatur des canonischen Rechts, iii/1. 17, 35.

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Württemberger, Karl Friedrich Stäudlin (1761–1826), a professor of theology there since 1790. Stäudlin, a typical Tübingen all-rounder, exemplified an open-minded mixture of mild Leipzig pastoral theology modelled on Deyling, modern Kantian ethics, modern church history taught by Mosheim and Johann Matthias Schröck (1724–1804: a Göttingen graduate; professor of history at Wittenberg since 1775), and the new historical geography pioneered by Büsching. Stäudlin's two-volume survey (1804), based on his lectures, tried to capture the vanishing official churchscape of the empire within the framework of the Christian church. Protestant Landeskirchen were compared for the first time with Catholic Germany, and with their Anglican, Scottish Presbyterian, and Lutheran Danish-Norwegian and Swedish-Finnish sister Reformation churches; but the German parts and whole of the empire's ecclesiastical framework, like the empire's political patchwork, eluded Stäudlin's pen. There is a touch of whimsy in the way he put the problem he faced: If one takes into account the many possible divisions of Germany, one can follow her ecclesiastical geography either via the order of the Circles; or the order of Rank [Reichstände], or those only possessing Landeshoheit: the Electors and Princes etc.; or the order of major powers [Oberherrn]: Austria, Prussia, Bavaria etc.; or one can also follow religion itself: that is the religion of the spiritual and temporal states, whether Catholic or Protestant, or the lands where the confessions are mixed. Each division has its conveniences and inconveniences.368 In other words, nothing ecclesiastical really held together. Stäudlin inserted Brandenburg-Prussia after Great Britain and Scandinavia in his Protestant non-German first volume; the empire's ecclesiastical framework following the order of Circles in the second. Provinces like Bohemia, Silesia, Moravia, and the Lusatias also remained, at the time he wrote, divided between Protestant Prussia, Lutheran Saxony, and Catholic Austria. To compound the problem, the many Reformation churches were no longer the same after boundary changes following the secularization of church property (Reichsdeputationshauptschluss) in 1803 which recast Protestant and Catholic canon law arrangements. Thus helpful statistics on dioceses, parishes, and clergy, and a framework of the kind provided by ‘national’ churches put into handy readable shape by Stäudlin's

368

Stäudlin, Kirchliche Geographie und Statistik, ii. 314–15, 362–4.

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contemporaries, Ussing, Hupel, and Schubert never took shape. What did emerge was Stäudlin's expression of astonishment at the rich mixture of old treaties and customary laws, church orders, and church statutes issued by princes, consistories, and parliamentary estates since the Reformation, and an awareness, as a Christian apologist living in ‘revolutionary’ times, of an urgent need to keep in mind the historical map and ways of the Christian church. Little had advanced a decade later. Augusti's twelve-volume Christian Archaeology (1817–31) used the same poor German compilation for an altered German Reformation map. Augusti's survey was therefore little more than a pale German copy of Joseph Bingham's (1688–1723) systematic arrangement in his Origines Ecclesiasticae (1708–22) of the hierarchy, organization, rites, discipline, and calendar of the Christian Church. However, the first serviceable description of a local church did appear in Frederician Berlin, part city and part market town. A new public interest in the condition of the church appeared at the time of the second and third editions (1761–2, 1765) of Johann Peter Süβmilch's (1707–67; provost of St Peter, Cölln an der Spree, from 1742) pioneering demographic tabulation in his Divine Order (1740). The arrival in 1766 of a like-minded scholar, the gregarious Büsching, for almost thirty years an influential member of Berlin's Lutheran senior consistory, and an influential educator as headmaster of Berlin's Graue Kloster secondary school, served to popularize Süβmilch's patient work. As the pioneer of a New System of Geography (published in 1754), which he had perfected in the period 1749–65 while preaching and teaching in Copenhagen, St Petersburg, and Göttingen, Büsching made Berliners aware of the modern topographic and statistical work written also by Holberg, Pontoppidan, and Achenwall at a time when they were sensing their city's new capital status, and its position as a new centre of modern Protestant scholarship evinced by the contemporaneous appointment of two reformers, the Pomeranian, Johann Joachim Spalding (1714–1804), as provost of St Nicholas in 1764, and the Saxon, Wilhelm Abraham Teller (1734–1804), as Süβmilch's successor at St Peter in 1767. Büsching, in his autobiography, emphasized their sense of common purpose, their shared collegiate life, in Berlin's Lutheran consistory.369 What ecclesiastical Berlin looked like surfaced

369

Büsching, Eigene Lebensgeschichte, 545 passim.

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in the first topographic account published in three editions (1769–86) by Nicolai, a publisher and patron of modern German letters (all these clergy contributed to his cultural journal Allgemeine Deutsche Bibliothek 1765–1806), and mild critic of Protestant establishment in his times. However, what emerged under his pen was the reverse of a secular-minded Berlin bracketed with Potsdam Enlightenment by a new generation of patriotic and revivalist citizens (1806–40). In 1784, Berlin (total pop. 134,000) was a Protestant city notable for tranquil relations between its Lutheran and Reformed congregations. They held common services, visited each other's churches to hear sermons, intermarried, and sent their children to the same schools. Respect for tradition and custom, regular parish communion, and good attendance by both upper- and lowerclass Berliners were aspects of a churchmanship which Nicolai described as orthodox, but leavened by Spenerian Pietism. Berliners were served by thirty parish churches including hospital chapels (thirteen Lutheran churches; two Reformed; five French Reformed churches, and ten mixed Concordienkirchen) which employed seventy-three clergy, giving a clergyman/parishioner ratio of 1:2,000. Nicolai followed these figures with the first reliable survey of the history, patronage, constitution, charitable institutions and work, and economics of Berlin's churches and parishes. He had an eye too for Catholic Berlin (c.8,000, including 5,000 military personnel) served by an imposing church (St Hedwig since 1773) and a military chapel; Judaic Berlin (3,372) with its large and attractive synagogue built in 1714, and even the religious complexion of the different parts of the city.370 Nicolai applied a similar topographic treatment to the Germany he visited in 1781: especially Württemberg, and southern German cities such as Ulm, Nuremberg, and Augsburg.371 But, within the churchscape of Landeskirchen, Nicolai's surveys were still shots in the dark. Local churches remained invisible on the whole to public scrutiny. It remained for Schleiermacher to make the first German public plea in published lectures outlining a course of modern theology at

370

Nicolai, Beschreibung der Königlichen Residenzstädte Berlin und Potsdam, ii (1786), 600 passim ; ‘Pietistisch oder orthodox von der pietistischen Seite’; id., Sebaldus Nothanker, 232–4; Aner, Der Aufklärer Friedrich Nicolai, 106–8; id., ‘Friedrich Nicolai als Zeuge des kirchlichen Lebens in Berlin zur Zeit der Aufklärung’, JBBKG 9–10 (1913), 247–55, 262–4.

371

Nicolai, Beschreibung einer Reise durch Deutschland und die Schweitz, im Jahre 1781, vols. ix–xi; Aner, Der Aufklärer Friedrich Nicolai, 106–30.

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Berlin University (1810; second edition 1830) for a proper survey of the visible Protestant church in Germany, the parts and the sum, as an essential tool for future ordinands and theologians. German topographic, descriptive, statistical, and bibliographic work so far, Schleiermacher stressed, was simply not good enough.372 However, Schleiermacher's advice failed to materialize before the decade 1850–60 when annual Protestant gatherings of clergy, civil servants, and middle-class laymen known as Kirchentage, inaugurated in 1848, provided the framework for the first serious initiatives in the accurate compilation and evaluation of church data on Protestant Germany. The only interim work of any merit done by any of Schleiermacher's students was by a Mecklenburger, Julius Wiggers (1811–1901), a professor of theology at Rostock University since 1837. Wiggers was to gain a maverick reputation like that of his brother, Moritz (1816–94), a democrat in 1848, as a liberal politician critical of Mecklenburg's old patriarchal order. This was beyond the pale of what was politically acceptable in both Mecklenburgs to either their father, Gustav (b. 1777), an enlightened Rostock University theologian of Christian doctrine who died in 1860 of a broken heart over the alleged ‘treasonable’ politics of his two sons, or both grand dukes and Ritterschaft who saw politics as a matter for the squirearchy alone. Nevertheless, in 1840, Wiggers published his Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs, the first accurate, short and readable history of any German Landeskirche, and in 1842, a two-volume Kirchliche Statistik. The latter's importance, however, consisted in stating the conditions for statistical surveys which began after 1860, rather than contributing much more to an accurate understanding of Protestant Germany at this time. Wiggers had to acknowledge defeat in his courageous uphill task matching the poor histories and inaccurate statistics of many German Protestant Landeskirchen with the historical framework of the Christian church. To do this properly, relating material to form, Wiggers emphasized with a sigh in his preface, would mean more than a lifetime's work.373 Like his German and Scandinavian enlightened predecessors, Wiggers felt the

372

Schleiermacher, Kurze Darstellung des theologischen Studiums, §§ 195, 232, 242, 244–6; P. Pieper, Kirchliche Statistik Deutschlands, 3–4.

373

‘Ueberdieβ würden einer so genauen Kenntniβ aller einzelnen Landeskirchen . . . mehr Studien und Erfahrungen gehören, als sich in einem Menschenleben je realisiren lassen’, Wiggers, Kirchliche Statistik, i. p. vi.

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best he could do as a Christian apologist was to point to an urgent need for an impartial overview of German Protestant Landeskirchen. This might stimulate a new educated public to take an interest in their local church: it was so much more than the stone building where sermons were delivered on Sundays and festivals. Wiggers thus pointed to a dilemma which more than adequately summed up the growing contrast in Germany and Scandinavia in the 1830s and 1840s between knowing what might help a local church to come to terms with modern times, and putting this into practice in a rural order where the hand of the past as inherited custom still held firmly, but was beginning to be challenged by a lay generation which simply passed this order by as out of date.

11 Herrnhut I. Etiquette and Experiment There is reason for discussing Herrnhut (meaning ‘the Lord's keeping’, the name of the first settlement), at this point. ‘Herrnhut’ was the religious metaphor widely used (1730–1850) in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia for the Renewed Unity of the Brethren (in English, ‘Moravians’)—meaning German-speaking Protestant emigrants who had fled from the Catholic Habsburg reconquest in Bohemia and Moravia, and a larger number of refugees of varying Protestant temperature. They had been allowed to settle gradually after 1722 on Berthelsdorf estate in that unsettled post-war Protestant refuge, Upper Lusatia, by an unlikely figure, Count Nikolaus Ludwig von Zinzendorf (1700–60): a restless pilgrim soul, cavalier son of the Saxon ambassador to the Habsburg court in Vienna, and scion of one of Lower Austria's oldest grandee families (Lutheran since the Reformation) which had won military fame fighting the Turks. Zinzendorf's historical significance lay in the way Herrnhut and similar undogmatic Moravian settlements linked contemporaneous Pietism, notably its communal prayer and pastoral care, as a growing Lutheran religious awakening with mild mid-century enlightened political ideals of association, religious tolerance, Cameralist economic organization, and the promotion of useful knowledge. Zinzendorf, however, had distanced himself by 1730 from Franckean Pietism, which he had learnt from an upbringing since 1704 by his pious grandmother, Henriette von Gersdorf (1648–1726), and in Halle's paedagogium regium (1710–16). Moravianism in Protestant Germany, especially in Scandinavia and the Baltic region, was influential mainly after Zinzendorf's death as a spiritual leaven linking Pietism to early nineteenthcentury religious revival and cultural self-expression. Herrnhut's intensification or popularization of Pietism also influenced a widespread clerical

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debate about the Lutheran clergy office, which began c.1760 and continued into the middle of the nineteenth century. In his lifetime, Zinzendorf managed to ingratiate himself with his family, who, as Reichsadel, considered his decision to take orders in 1734 beneath his dignity, after he had studied law at Wittenberg (1716–19) as preparation for Saxon state service; with neighbouring nobility, who feared loss of labour on their estates to Herrnhut where bondage was rejected; with most Protestant courts, who saw Zinzendorf's ‘interconfessional’ Protestantism as a threat to the one established church of the state (he was exiled from Saxony 1736–47), and with a Pietist clergy generation in office until c.1780, who disliked (notably Bengel and Fresenius) Zinzendorf's self-identification with Christ, and Moravianism as free churchmanship.374 Moravian German settlements also experienced (1740–50), in what was called the ‘time of sifting’, an overindulgent religious enthusiasm, and mounting debts which stifled organizational development supervised by Zinzendorf's successor and first biographer, the commoner, August Gottlieb Spangenberg (1704–92), after synods (1764, 1769, and 1775) and a new ‘constitution’ (1782) had established Moravian settlements as basic constitutional units. But, as a cheerful Protestant religion of the heart giving ordinary people in town and country a sense of dignity and purpose in life, and as a communal brother-and-sister office of prayer and practical work, Moravianism, accepted by the new, tolerant religious climate after 1770, intensified a religious and cultural lay awakening in both Germany and Scandinavia. Moravianism provided a spiritual home when the old collective agrarian and craft order began to disappear. It faded away with the onset of the new plural industrial and urban order (c.1860–70). Herder got it about right when he praised Zinzendorf (Adrastea, 1802) as a spiritual world conqueror; contrasting the many places where the Brethren had cheerfully established themselves with Zinzendorf's many official titles of nobility enumerated by his biographer Spangenberg, and expressive of an age governed by strict etiquette in which both men lived, but which both abjured. Zinzendorf, Herder argued, had finally broken theological exclusivism

374

Livonian and Estonian barons, especially, feared the social consequences of a Moravian awakening amongst their tenantry: ‘unerlaubte Dinge anzufangen, mithin den allgemeinen Ruhestand zu stöhren’, Livonian Senior Consistory Committee of Inquiry (1743), cited by Philipp, Wirksamkeit der Herrnhuter Brüdergemeine unter den Esten und Letten, 325.

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and pedantry associated with Lutheran Orthodoxy and introspective Pietism in German-speaking lands, and had finally dared to speak the language of ordinary people in the supple prose of his simple hymns used by the Brethren in their still and happy congregational worship.375 Zinzendorf's lay emissaries were much quicker and more adroit than contemporary Hallesian clergy in learning the ways and languages of peoples they encountered on mission. Zinzendorf himself remains the only one of Protestant Germany's major religious figures who preached and wrote copiously in English. As a religious movement, Moravianism, like Hallesian Pietism, owed its existence to patronage of the little Pietist courts: those in Protestant Lower Austria and Upper Saxon Reichsadel spread along the Bohemian, Moravian, and Silesian borders exposed to the Catholic Habsburg reconquest, and to the extended Reichsadel families of Thuringia and the Wetterau. Zinzendorf's religious world was thus close to Spener and Francke: Spener was Zinzendorf's godfather; his grandmother was praised by Rambach as the warmest and best Pietist hymn-writer of her age. These Pietist noble families possessed a strong sense of solidarity with Spener and Francke, provided continuing connections for further mission, and their castles and estates as sanctuaries for persecuted Protestants. When courtly Pietism began to wane after 1750, Zinzendorf's settlements built by this patronage were in place. Moravianism, a religious experiment bridging the worlds of nobility and ordinary people in Zinzendorf's lifetime, was thus frequently restrained by etiquette. Zinzendorf never lost his sense of belonging to senior Reichsadel. He considered his Lower Austrian family estates part of God's order on earth; he even took over management of family properties in the Wachau after the death of his stepbrother (1756). In New Carolina, four settlements, Lunz, Carlstetten, Pottendorf, and Orth, were named by Zinzendorf after four Lutheran parishes established (1580) on family estates in Lower Austria. Herrnhut was governed as a dependent part of Berthelsdorf estate; even at Sunday worship in Berthelsdorf parish church, Zinzendorf communicated his wishes to the preacher through a trap-door in the floor of the family box positioned above the vestry. Zinzendorf loved courtly pomp and circumstance: he could not

375

Hope, ‘Herder: The Lutheran Clergyman’, 110–11.

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suppress a childish joy at receiving Denmark's highest order, the Dannebrog, at Christian VI's coronation in Copenhagen in June 1731, or preaching in 1736 to the Estonian and Livonian Ritterschaft in Reval cathedral and St Olaf (22 and 25 September) and St James in Riga (30 September and 7 October) where he appeared dressed in a black velvet gown and followed by a pageboy in livery bearing the Bible. Incognitos like ‘Mr von Thurnstein’ when in Pennsylvania, or use of the second person singular form of address to his ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ at Herrnhut and other settlements, could not disguise what Pietist nobility and clergy called the arrogance of a ‘deceptive humility’ (Scheindemut). There was always a distance between Zinzendorf and the Brethren: even in death, Zinzendorf's grave and those of his family were not placed in the symmetrical lines of common graves below the Hutberg, but on the main pathway in the middle of the graveyard. On the other hand, Zinzendorf experimented more with etiquette than either Spener or Francke. Possibly because his emissaries (Sendboten, Arbeiter) were of similar social rank (usually craftsmen), they were also able to communicate with ordinary people more easily. Moravians emphasized the way blind chance and circumstance, as much as God's law taught by Pietism, affected Christian decision-making and order. A Christian life was earthbound; therefore provisional, transient, a gamble: a matter of concern for a simple pilgrim soul. This was a religious philosophy conditioned in part also by Zinzendorf's exposed and unsettled Lusatian, Pietist, border churchscape, by his residual belief in a magical world, and the unequivocal military command structure of his day which made decisions by use of the lot. Chance use of the lot became a major feature of Moravian decision-making in matters such as the choice of personal biblical texts of the day; major constitutional decisions; or even fixing Zinzendorf's travel route to Copenhagen in 1731 (Zinzendorf liked the element of surprise), and answering the question whether he should appear at Christian VI's Pietist court doucement, rigoreusement, indifferement, or prudement, which the lot eventually decided upon.376 Zinzendorf taught his followers to use the prevalent social system and its etiquette for Moravian propagation. As one trained in Thomasian law, Zinzendorf rebelled against seventeenth-century

376

Beyreuther, Studien zur Theologie Zinzendorfs, 121.

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religious uniformity for establishing a coercive church and a nominal Christianity. He pointed to the absurdity of many Reformation church orders in the towns and little principalities of Saxony, Thuringia, Silesia, and Upper Lusatia. They obscured the Gospel's ecumenical message, and caused persecution. A craft apprentice who encountered in a radius of twenty German miles (c.92 English miles) three or four different Lutheran church orders and liturgies could not possibly understand that these diverse churches subscribed to the same Lutheran faith. Zinzendorf took as his startingpoint the doctrinal articles of the Augsburg Confession he was brought up with.377 A Christian life was based on individual free will and Christian unity. Christian religion in contrast to Lutheran theology was not a matter of intellect, creed, ritual, or order, but of one's own heart which ‘has sprung out of the pierced heart of Jesus, been hewn out of His side’. With the size of a handy prayer-book in mind, Zinzendorf concluded that ‘all the essential theology can be written in large characters on one octavo page’.378 Novel was the way Zinzendorf drew the consequences of his Hallesian view of history and law to strengthen religious and cultural identities within the framework of the Christian church. There was a historical geography of religions and lands: ‘The Religions are facts of nationality [Nationalsachen] adapted to the customary temperamental disposition of the people.’379 Christians scattered over the globe living in different cultures and speaking different languages were united by the invisible religion of Christ's heart, though Christians were urged not to absent themselves from the order and public worship of established churches. Zinzendorf also used the up-to-date language of natural law and Cameralism: ‘Religions are God's economy, machinery to bring Truth and the Love of His Son to men according to their capacity, and according to the temperature and atmosphere of the country.’380 Different from Hallesian awakened clergy and laity working within the bounds of established Lutheran parishes, was an apostolic and craft fellowship of brothers and sisters in settlements sanctioned by

377

Zuverlässige Nachricht . . . von Graf Ludwig II v. Zinzendorf . . . fortgeführten Societate Evangelica (Hennersdorf, 1748), Zinzendorf Hauptschriften, vi. 16–17. ‘Meine Religions-principia gehen nicht weiter als die Lehr-artikel der Augspurgischen Confeβion’, ibid. 11.

378

John Gambold (ed.), Maxims, Theological Ideas and Sentences (London, 1751), 156, 256–7.

379

W. G. Addison, Renewed Church of the United Brethren 1722–1930 (London, 1932), 31.

380

Uttendörfer, Zinzendorf's Weltbetrachtung, 79.

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landowners. This was a challenge to the Lutheran home parish, though Zinzendorf recognized the rights of the mother church, and a departure from convention associated with rank. Moravian settlements were pleasing sanctuaries mixing crafts and agriculture in quiet solitudes. They reflected a new mid-century taste in Austria and Saxony for appealing architectural symmetry. This contrasted with the utilitarian barracks-style of Berlin and Halle. Herrnhut was a model village containing some two hundred houses surrounded by gardens and cornfields situated on the main Lobau–Zittau road on rising ground against a backdrop of evergreen forest and high hills. Settlements such as Niesky, Gnadenberg, Neusalz, and Gnadenfrei in Silesia, Herrnhaag in the Wetterau, or Christiansfeld in southern Jutland were similar. There was a division of labour: women did agricultural work; the men were craftsmen who could practise their craft on mission. These settlements exuded a modern urban atmosphere without walls and gates in direct contrast to the medieval layout of Lutheran village and walled-town parishes before land reform. The Baudirektion (1765) allowed building anywhere, and regulated layout, style, and cleanliness. The first pavements, and street lighting with lanterns appeared at this time. On the other hand, these settlements remained part of patriarchal and dependent order. Herrnhut's ‘Seigneurial Injunctions and Prohibitions’ and ‘Brotherly Union and Compact’ (1727) emphasized, like the Lutheran Landesordnung, respect for authority, social peace, and avoidance of excess. Strict regulation governed trade; prices were fixed; no competition was allowed. Such thinking obviously appealed to mercantilist-minded visitors. The novel experiment which had much to do with subsequent Moravian success was the emphasis put on the lay office. Ordained clergy were not a privileged group. In the first order of offices (1725), Berthelsdorf's parish clergyman was ranked below lay teachers; simple craftsmen and peasants could become bishops; bishops were ranked (1735) under elders. Herrnhut and other settlements were lay communities in which everyone was organized in groups called Bands, Choirs, and Classes, and shared Apostolic and Pauline (Romans 12) teaching, devotional, and pastoral offices. Natural-law association was visible in group housing according to age, sex (married or single), condition, and economy, and in the division of Choir houses under ‘diacony’ and ‘economy’. Spangenberg thought this attention and trust in the simple, weak,

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and untalented, was a major reason for successful mission. A warm pastoral tone which appealed to personal disposition (Gemüt), a practical division of common labour, and optimism in the future contained in the sense of being in God's favour as saved sinners by Wesley's ‘still brethren’, was a different tone to spiritual struggle and observance of the law taught by Pietism. The antinomian charge that Christian virtue cost Moravians little spiritual effort was easily made. But in the long run many lay offices and a cheerful attitude to life and work in a large family gave ordinary men and women self-esteem and hope. A child's natural development was followed too. They were treated as ‘little kings/ queens’, and cared for by the Choirs when parents were away on mission. A Swiss wigmaker, brought up by stern separatists, who experienced Moravian mission (1739) and subsequently joined Herrnhaag (1741–91), named cheerfulness (Heiterkeit), song, and family fellowship, something which he had previously sorely missed, as Moravian virtues.381 Moravianism was attractive to ordinary people because it was tasteful and colourful: human dignity and an aesthetic sense were seen as commensurate values in Moravian common order: men wore grey or brown; women were subdivided: girls under eighteen in red, young women in pink, blue for wives, white for widows; sisters (as women of authority were called) wore straw hats with a ribbon. Public worship was made attractive to ordinary people too. The hallowed medieval Lutheran parish church was replaced by an assembly-room or chapel (Betsaal, Gemeinsaal, Groβer Saal, Versammlungssaal, Kirchensaal) for common prayer and hymn-singing. Moravian chapels reflected a new sense of simplicity and proportion. There were no pillars, and few, if any, galleries in a room whose four walls were painted white to reflect light: there was nothing to impede direct communion with God through prayer. Men sat on the left, and women on the right on benches facing a small table covered by a dark green cloth, behind which the officiating lay-person sat surrounded likewise by male elders on the left side, and female elders on the right side. New rites broke up the traditional Lutheran parish service conducted by the clergyman from the choir. Moravian services were led by brothers educated theologically as leaders. The Moravian liturgy was not a set of unchanging formularies. The Latin order of the mass,

381

Johann Leonhard Kroll (1718–91): H. C. Hahn and H. Reichel (eds.), Zinzendorf und die Herrnhuter Brüder, 125–9.

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and Luther's Deutsche Messe were broken up into separate vernacular acts of worship (prayer, sermon, hymn-singing, communion) designed to appeal to congregational understanding and participation. Almost every hour of the Moravian Sunday was taken up with services of fellowship from five in the morning until nine at night. A morning blessing began at five; between six and nine, services were held by the Choirs; at ten, a childrens' service; at eleven, morning worship in the parish church; at one, a general exhortation by a chief elder; at three, a service for visitors and those unable to attend morning service in which the Sunday sermon was repeated; at four, Vespers in the parish church; a service at eight, and at nine, the young men marched the bounds singing hymns. Sunday was complemented by daily services of prayer; services where a portion of the Bible was read; prayers and hymn-singing in Choirs, and a congregation day when news of Moravian missionaries was read out. The Moravian liturgy constantly developed: after 1728 a monthly solemn day of prayer for children was introduced; monthly communion as a separate service in 1731; love-feasts, or charity suppers (Early Christian Agape) consisting of singing, an address for the day, and a simple meal of rye bread and water in 1727; an Easter sunrise service in 1732; a Watchnight service in 1733; the Advent Christingle service in 1747, where hymn verses composed by children were sung antiphonally, and each child was given a little lighted wax candle with a red ribbon as a symbol of the flame kindled by Christ's birth.382 Central to Moravian Christology was the common monthly Eucharist—an act of human touch. Until 1818, the New Testament custom of foot-washing was accompanied by hymn-singing praising Jesus as the comforting Lamb: elders washed male communicants' feet first, then the women's; a verse describing the Covenant during which members gave each other the kiss of peace and right hand of fellowship prefaced the Eucharist. Atonement and eucharistic sacrifice were turned into a calm and happy corporate act of faith in Jesus. Moravians were Easter people: Holy Week and Easter Sunday gave Moravian settlements their unity. Death had no sting. Herrnhut's Easter sunrise service was based on the eastern liturgy.383

382

Blankenburg, ‘The Music of the Bohemian Brethren’, Blume, Protestant Church Music, 593–607. Moravian liturgies are dated to 1743: the first Liturgienbuch (1770), ibid. 606. ‘Ganz-in Gott-Gesammeltsein’, MGG, s.v. ‘Liturgie’, col. 1008.

383

Hahn and Reichel, 349; Lewis, Zinzendorf the Ecumenical Pioneer, 74.

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At four in the morning all gathered along the four sides of Herrnhut's square graveyard singing Hallelujahs; this was followed at sunrise by an elder shouting, ‘The Lord is risen’ with the collective response, ‘He is risen indeed’; there followed a collective confession of faith; trombones led an anthem of praise; hymn-singing ended the service. Easter banished the dark unsettled world and fear of death associated with the troubled earlier part of the eighteenth century. Death became a friend: death and burial of brothers and sisters were turned into the euphemisms he or she is ‘asleep’, or he or she has ‘gone home’; burial in a white coffin was a symbol of spiritual joy in future glory (Revelation 7: 13–17); no clothes of mourning were worn at funerals; hymns of triumph were sung to the accompaniment of four trombones. Zinzendorf was the first person in Germany to design a graveyard as a friendly and aesthetically attractive garden of rest (Todten-Garten). Herrnhut's Hutberg introduced communal square Moravian graveyards with identical flat oblong gravestones (after 1746) bearing simply name, place, date of birth, and date of death. These were divided (until 1797) according to the order of Choirs; thereafter men on one side, women on the other. Gravestones were separated by broad pathways, and bordered by an earth-wall covered by grass until borders of spruce and beech trees were planted (1754–5).384 Music was fellowship too. Instrumental playing and congregational hymn-singing united varying temperaments and needs, and enriched the situational in worship and work. Moravian sacred music was a mixture of Francke's musicmaking, the rich craft of modern secular and sacred music in Thuringia and Saxony, and folk-music which Moravian refugees brought with them. The daily Singstunde (1727) was a happy hour built on theological themes sung antiphonally as verses or parts of verses accompanied by trombones, trumpets, and horns. Moravian hymn-books were a careful balance between ancient and modern.385 They aimed, as did Pietist hymn-books, to awaken a communal spiritual mood (696 out of 892 hymns in Berthelsdorf's 1725 hymn-book were taken from Freylinghausen's), and to show the congregational hymn as capable of rejuvenation. The London two-volume hymn-book (1753–4) containing 3,627 hymns, arranged chronologically beginning with those of the Early Church, was a collection showing the timeless

384

Melchert, Entwicklung der deutschen Friedhofsordnungen, 44–8.

385

MGG, s.v. ‘Zinzendorf ’, cols. 1315–16; ibid. s.v. ‘Böhmische Brüder’, cols. 38–41.

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ecumenical character of Christian song, and was the first historical collection of its kind. New melodies were introduced to chorale books, and melodies were composed to suit Moravian harmonic and optimistic worship. Feeling (Empfindsamkeit) led Moravian musicians often to use the compositions of Frederick the Great's master of the chapel, Carl Heinrich Graun (1703/4–59) as models. Christian Gregor (1723–1801), after 1782 the first musical director of Herrnhut, replaced Halle's ‘worldly’ dactylic three-beat tunes with a book of chorales (1784) with tunes in major keys, symbolizing trust and refuge in Jesus, sung in a simple, natural manner. Simple, daily, vernacular hymn-singing sanctified life and work in a warm and happy way. The saying ‘there is more dogma in our canticles than in our prose’ proved to be a very sound bridge to folk music and popular religion in the late eighteenth century.386

II. After 1750 It is easy to point at a Pietist and Moravian failure to reshape the established order of Lutheran churches. The old order and its etiquette proved too strong. Zinzendorf in his lifetime was unable to change the ways even of Pietist courts and a Hallesian clergy generation. Fixed prices, settlements supported by small-scale crafts and agriculture, large financial loans to sympathetic noble patrons, and a growing world mission, proved too expensive after 1750. By 1800, debts had reached crisis proportions. It was not surprising that the last new European settlement, Königsfeld in Baden, was established in 1807. Life in solitary pastoral settlements closed off the Brethren from the momentous changes taking place after 1780. Experiment and development surrendered to a Quietism which anxiously held on to out-ofdate observances. Fresh spiritual leadership was lacking. Noble patronage ran out as was the case with Pietism: younger sons had turned to more worldly pursuits, or were having to face the socio-economic consequences of the new political changes. There was social ossification too. The governance of settlements and synods had become the preserve of cliques of diaspora workers who valued Herrnhut's inheritance more than moving with the times. However, Moravianism intensified lay piety in the period

386

Blankenburg, ‘Music of the Bohemian Brethren’, 604 passim ; A. J. Lewis, Zinzendorf: The Ecumenical Pioneer, (London, 1962), 163.

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1770–1830 spanning the Enlightenment and Awakening. Debates about the clergy office, the shape of the liturgy, church music, pastoral work, and the promotion of popular culture were informed by its lay example. Because this influence was one of spiritual and emotional mood which built on Pietism's legacy, however much Zinzendorf tried to deny that fact, it is not easy to describe. But a figure such as Schleiermacher, central to an early nineteenth-century Protestant German awakening, owed much to a Silesian Moravian upbringing. Denmark and Sweden, especially Estonia and Livonia, provide good examples of the way Moravianism complemented Pietism, and helped a growing popular sense of self-esteem and self-expression in conservative rural societies, especially when the old communal order began to change. Timing of religious fashion meant that Pietism and Moravianism were often promoted by the same people, and were therefore difficult to disentangle as religious movements. Peasant societies, it seemed, opened more freely to Moravian ‘craft’ messengers, though the popularity of contemporaneous Pietist and enlightened clergy generations who often looked on Herrnhut favourably should not be underestimated. Moravianism grew contemporaneously with Pietism in the period of church restoration and reform after c.1730: in Denmark via Zinzendorf in Copenhagen, and in Jutland (1730–40); likewise in Estonia and Livonia (1735–43); in southern Sweden a couple of decades later (after 1750) via the Moravian, Wolf Caspar Abraham von Gersdorf (1704–84), a fine hymn writer like Zinzendorf's grandmother. Official mood in a Pietist environment swiftly changed, however, when Moravianism became popular in peasant parishes subject to manorial servitude. Anti-Moravian acts were passed in Denmark (1741, 1744–6), and in Estonia and Livonia (1743). But statute and censor proved as ineffective as they had been with Pietism. Moravianism continued to spread despite its being forced underground. In Denmark, even in Copenhagen, a Moravian society established in 1738 climbed from twenty-nine members (1740) to 242 (1750), 417 (1760), and 435 (1770). An emissary noted in 1767 that the Brethren were well known in Danish lands: especially in Jutland (1769: 325) and Danish-speaking Slesvig (1769: c.450).387 Argument

387

Baagø, Vækkelse og kirkeliv i København og omegn, Vækkelsernes Frembrud i Danmark, i. 19 passim ; Pontoppidan Thyssen (ed.), Herrnhuter-Samfundet i Christiansfeld, 38.

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for recognition and settlement surfaced in the more tolerant climate of 1770, which laid less emphasis on religious uniformity and more on economic and cultural advancement. Moravian disciplined craft settlements had an obvious appeal. In 1768, criticism by loyal Pietist clergy was officially forbidden; in 1770, the Danish finance minister visited Herrnhut and other settlements to persuade Christian VII (1766–1808) that Moravians were beneficial to the Danish economy. He was successful. In 1771 conventicle legislation was repealed, and in 1772 the colony in southern Jutland, Christiansfeld, was established. Christiansfeld, known as the ‘town on the hill’, became another missionary centre complementing Copenhagen for both Denmark and the duchies, and for spreading Moravian mission in southern Sweden.388 Both played an influential role in Danish revival 1800–40 (Ch. 15). Important was the way Christiansfeld emissaries managed to make friends with local parish clergy; they began to subscribe to Moravian news-sheets, supported Moravian tract societies like the ‘Fynsk-slesvigske til evangeliets udbredelse’, participated in common conferences held after 1810 at Christiansfeld, and held meetings in their respective parishes. Several of these parish clergy became noted revivalists. Meetings of several hundred people became typical of Danish Slesvig and Jutland parishes all the way up the impoverished west coast to the market towns of Skjern and Holstebro. Moravianism took hold in the southern tip of Sweden after Gersdorf's visit in 1750. The little harbour towns of Malmö, Karlskrona, and Gothenburg—also Lund—were easily accessible across the water from Copenhagen, and they provided the means to spread Moravian news and tracts. Mission spread south of a horizontal line drawn between Halmstad and Kalmar: in the old Danish provinces of Scania and Blekinge covered by the Lund, Vaxjo, and Kalmar dioceses; also further north-west in Halland, covered by Gothenburg and Skara dioceses.389 A flowering similar to that of mainland Denmark took place c.1770–1800, despite the larger distances to be covered, and the continuing threat of diocesan censorship. It was often inspired by emissaries sent from Copenhagen and Christiansfeld. As in Denmark, friendly relations were soon established with local parish

388

Ibid. 56–9; Pontoppidan Thyssen and Hegnsvad, De ældre jyske vækkelser, Vækkelsernes frembrud i Danmark, iv. 104–51; Pleijel, Herrnhutismen i Sydsverige, 94, 149.

389

Pleijel, Ibid. 82, 130–1, 191, 219–36.

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Denmark, friendly relations were soon established with local parish clergy. They in turn persuaded other colleagues, and often took over Moravian mission. In some parishes, something little short of an awakening took place amongst cottars and domestics. In others, all four Swedish estates opened to Moravian mission. Reports (1770–80) spoke of hundreds of followers similar to those in Jutland. Christiansfeld's schools for boys and girls (1775) started to take southern Swedish children (1780–90), and a tradition began, which lasted into the middle of the nineteenth century, for children of better-off tradesmen and clergy homes to be schooled in Christiansfeld. Swedish Moravianism appealed to homes which had opened to the Lutheran canon of prayer during the Great Northern War, and to a new Christocentric piety of post-war (1720–40) Pietist Scanian parish clergy such as Peter Murbeck (before 1745) and Andreas Rydelius. In sparsely settled dioceses, Moravianism built on a tradition of common village prayer. In some places, vicarages also became venues for daily morning and evening prayer hours. As elsewhere, Moravianism attracted because it contained little of the statutory: as a letter of 1769 put it, much ‘Geschwisterhaftigkeit, Sünderhaftigkeit und Lebhaftigkeit’.390 After 1800, Swedish Moravianism, like that in Denmark, was absorbed by a local revival; in particular that inspired by Henric Schartau, himself briefly inspired by Moravian example (1781–7) after c.1810, and as part of a cottar and peasant revival during further land reform (1820–40). Moravianism also established itself in Pietist Norrland after 1750, building on a similar mixture of Lutheran prayer and Pietist Christocentrism piety, and common village prayer. But here, in contrast to southern Sweden, Moravians were limited to Torneå alone. They failed to win over parish clergy who feared a prevalent ecstatic backwoods religion. More important, however, was the fact that in Norrland, seventeenth-century prayer and Hallesian devotional literature were well established. New Pietist translations usually printed in Stockholm (Baxter, Bunyan, Doddridge, Gouge, Willcocks, Hollatz, Heinrich Müller, Rambach, Scriver, Fresenius, Hersleb, Pontoppidan, and the Swedes Nohrborg, Tollesson, and Tolstadius) became household books after 1750, when Luther as a

390

Pleijel, Ibid. 138.

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devotional author became available in handy translations. Luther's postil was published at Stockholm (1753), commentary on Galatians at Uppsala (1775), and editions of his sermons at Stockholm and Västerås (1761, 1777). Though there was a touch of Herrnhut in the awakening known as the ‘Readers’, it was this devotional tradition which informed their particular awakening (Ch. 15).391 In Estonia and Livonia, Herrnhut scored its greatest success, both as a popular religious movement, and as one which fashioned an Estonian and Latvian identity (1736–1870). A transition between Hallesian Pietism and Moravianism went almost unnoticed, given their more or less contemporaneous appearance in the 1730s in vacant post-war parishes. The same clergy and families tended to patronize both religious movements. Jakob Benjamin Fischer, the general superintendent of Livonia (1736–44), was favourably inclined: he invited Zinzendorf to preach, seeing him simply as another Hallesian. The pious Mickwitz, senior at Reval, married to the stepdaughter of one of Livonia's foremost Pietist patrons, Johann Balthasar von Campenhausen (1689–1758; Landrat of the Riga district after 1721), approved, like his patron, of Moravian mission (Campenhausen had settled thirty Moravian families on his estates at Kudum, Orellen, and Lenzenhof). The same was true of Campenhausen's son, Balthasar (1745–1800), and his famous grandson, Balthasar (1772–1823), schooled at Niesky, who made a name as one also schooled in Göttingen Staatskunde, in his modern accounts of the Russian Gubernia and constitutional law (1792), and as a Russian medical reformer under Czars Paul 1 (1796–1801), and Alexander (1801–25). Common patronage of Halle and Herrnhut was best represented by the pious Livonian Hallart family. General von Hallart appointed his family chaplain, the Hallesian ordinand, Albert Anton Vierorth (1697–1761), to serve Mickwitz as a second pastor at Reval cathedral (1726–43). Vierorth became a warm supporter of Zinzendorf and Moravian mission until Czarina Elizabeth's (1741–62) anti-Moravian Ukaz (1743); thereafter, until his death, he directed Zinzendorf's so-called Livländiches Werk at Marienborn in the Wetterau, supervising its archives, library, and printing press. Hallart's widow, Magdalene Elizabeth von Hallart (1683–1750), became the most influential Moravian patron. Like Fischer, she saw

391

Holmgren, Norrlandsläseriet, 5–15, 174–7. Translation dates of Luther and other devotional authors, ibid. pp. xxix–xliii, 197–200.

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Halle and Herrnhut as working towards the same spiritual end. She patronized Herrnhut's first emissaries, Christian David (1690–1751) and Timotheus Fiedler (both swiftly learnt Estonian and Latvian) in Riga and Reval (1729–30), invited neighbouring parish clergy to her estate, Wolmarshof near Wolmar (Valmiera), to be instructed by David, and established a Moravian seminary for future parish school-teachers and vergers (1737–43). After 1741 all were housed in a large new building, the Lammsberg, situated for visual effect high above the river Aa (Gauja): an impressive twostorey rectangular building with 104 windows and a bell-tower, containing two assembly rooms for Germans and Latvians, fifty living rooms for craftsmen and emissaries, and a large communal kitchen. It predated Lambs Hill at Fulneck in Yorkshire (1746–8). In addition, the Lammsberg included a large chapel for the peasantry, a threshingroom where visiting peasantry could sleep, stables, and a coach-house. Although the new owner of Wolmarshof started demolition immediately in 1753—lightning in 1765 destroyed the rest—Magdalene von Hallart's patronage was instrumental for subsequent Moravian mission in Livonia and Estonia.392 Zinzendorf's Livländisches Werk (1736) became a symbol of missionary continuity despite Czarina Elizabeth's antiMoravian Ukaz (lifted in 1817). It lasted long enough to link up with a Moravian revival in the three troubled decades (1820–50) following partial peasant emancipation. It gave institutional sanction for the first time to ‘nationals’, meaning Estonians and Latvians, to create their own religious awakening. The Brethren retained only a supervisory role to ensure that Estonians and Latvians left their pagan ways, and learnt to reconcile their servile selves with their German noble masters. Zinzendorf, in 1736, using a Moravian love feast, was the first person to attempt this. Emissaries (craftsmen, medical doctors, and schoolteachers) were strongly encouraged to speak the native languages for devotional and pastoral work. Hymns in Latvian and Estonian were seen as a way of teaching peoples with a rich folkmusic tradition the Christian message. Herrnhut's hymn-book became very popular after its printing in 1742 at Reval by the Pietist printer, Köhler. It was confiscated in 1743, but became popular again after 1747 as a Marienborn edition, printed under Vierorth's supervision, without title and publishing date. Pietist work of translation

392

Philipp, 156–7.

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was also continued. The 1739 Estonian and Latvian Bibles were financed by Herrnhut; much handwritten devotional literature continued to circulate; all of this helped to popularize North Estonian as the language of Estonian devotion. It was the real beginning, as the Estonian literary historians Gustav Suits and Rudolf Pöldmäe have shown, of making the peasantry read and write. The first handwritten Estonian and Latvian letters and autobiographies, translations, devotional tracts, and hymns appeared at this time.393 Moravianism took a far more popular hold than in either Denmark or Sweden in Estonia at Reval, Cremon (Kriimani) near Dorpat, the island of Ösel (Saaremaa), in Latvian-speaking areas in central and north-eastern Livonia, and on several inland noble estates in both Estonia and Livonia between 1738 and its official suppression in 1743. In 1742, it was estimated that some 13,000–14,000 ‘nationals’ were organized in Choirs in which Estonians dominated: Estonia and Ösel 8,000–9,000; Livonia (Latvian-speaking c.3,000; Estonian-speaking c.2,000).394 Estonian and Latvian peasantry warmed to Moravian communal pastoral care seen as liberation from demonic powers, and emissaries who preached less of the law, spent more time on prayer and Bible-reading, and gave them a sense of office and responsibility for the first time. Moravianism, owing to labour service, became a weekday evening and weekend religion. David reported in 1740, that on Saturdays, 500 or more came to the Lammsberg, and often many had to sleep in the open. Many chapels were built in villages. The first local leaders, notably Tallima Papp, a peasant from Rouge in south Estonia, and his helper Kuusma Juhan, began to hold sermons and prayers in parish homes after work. As was to be expected with a religious movement which became very popular in the space of a few years, there was much official worry about ‘Enthusiasm’ and spiritual muddle. Moravian emissaries had really exposed the weakness of an established dependent church run by German barons and parish clergy. Landowners began to fear the socio-economic and

393

R. Pöldmäe, ‘Lisandusi eestikeelsi piibli väljaandmisloole’ Eesti Kirjandus, p. xxxiii (1939), 448–55; G. Suits, ‘Vanemast vennastekoguduse kirjandusest’, Raamatu osa Eesti arengus (Tartu, 1935), 66–80; F. Puksoo, ‘Jacob Johann Köler: Esimese eesti piibli trükal’, Vana Tallinn, iv (Tallinn, 1939), 35–74; O. A. Webermann, ‘Zur Problematik der estnischen Literatur des 18 Jahrhunderts’, Estonia Christiana, 181–99.

394

S. Webermann, ‘Pietismus und Brüdergemeine’, Baltische Kirchengeschichte, 158–9; E. Beyreuther, ‘Zinzendorf und der deutschen Osten’, Jahrbuch der Schlesischen FriedrichWilhelms-Universität zu Breslau, 7 (1962), 147–8.

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political consequences: possible loss of labour, and a new questioning spirit. This was a worry which continued into the second half of the nineteenth century. Officially, popular Estonian and Latvian Moravianism came to an end with the Ukaz of 16 April 1743; all parish clergy were obliged to sign a declaration on 6 July 1744 banning Moravians from their parishes; Zinzendorf, on a second visit, had the unfortunate experience of brief imprisonment in Riga's citadel (23 December 1743 to 12 January 1744) and subsequent banishment; Moravianism produced its first martyrs: four emissaries imprisoned in 1747 in the damp dungeon of the St Peter and Paul fortress at St Petersburg who died serving a twelve-year sentence: their clothes literally decayed on their bodies.395 But popular Moravianism survived. As in Denmark and Sweden, statute and censorship were neither rigorous nor effective. Campenhausen senior (governor-general of Finland when briefly occupied by the Russians 1742–4) did much to persuade Czarina Elizabeth and the Holy Synod to use a mild hand. It is also worth remembering that noble patrons remained faithful supporters. They did this as much for religious reasons as for authority and discipline implied by their patronage of chapel and school. This was true of the Campenhausens, and other families such as Karl Otto von Stackelberg (1701–58) at Camby (Kambia). All four of his children married Moravian nobility: Georg Wilhelm (1735–82) married Helene Louise von Vietinghoff; Anna Benigna (1743–95) married Friedrich Justin von Bruiningk; Christina Elizabeth (d. 1780) married Gottlieb Fabian von Gavel; Johann Maria (1753–1810) married Franz Wilhelm von Rennenkampf, Livonian Landmarschall (1777–83). Of Anna Benigna's three sons and two daughters, it was noted in the Bruiningk genealogy that they were all brought up on sound Moravian principles, and the daughters married to Moravians. Noble wills show the same motivation. Some Moravian nobles drew the moral and social consequences: they identified with the need to emancipate their serfs, and with their cultural advancement. This was true of Balthasar von Campenhausen, senior already before 1743, of his son at the turn of the century, and in particular, of Karl Axel Christer von Bruiningk (1782–1848), son of noted Moravian patrons, who played a major role in Estonian emancipation and new peasant schools, and eventually joined his local

395

Philipp, 162–7. Declaration by all parish clergy to reject Moravianism, 6 July 1744, 3, app. 5, ibid. 167, 391.

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Estonian congregation in 1846. He was buried by his tenantry in the Estonian graveyard. What really kept Moravianism going until its flowering again c.1820 (Ch. 15), was its clear identification with Estonian and Latvian culture as devotional literature, hymns, and music-making. This proved an observation already noted by Francke and Zinzendorf, that Pietism and Moravianism would be successful either in border areas threatened by the CounterReformation (the Saxon-Lusatian-Silesian borders), or with subject peoples like the Estonians and Latvians.

12 The Parish and the Ofce of the Clergy I. The Unchanging Historic Parish ‘Enlightenment’ is, perhaps, a misplaced concept by which to describe change in German and Scandinavian Protestant parishes after c.1770. In the 1840s, a time when an ‘enlightened’ clergy generation retired, many parish clergy felt that the Protestant parish-scape was much the same as it had been a century or so earlier. Time seemed to pass more slowly for rural and home-town Lutheran clergy (the majority in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia) than for their Reformed colleagues in urban parishes. However, the latter in rural parishes along the Lower Rhine, in Westphalia, and the Rhine Palatinate, were also subject to the heavy hand of the old rural and home-town order. The hold of the past associated with inherited ways of doing things, and dependent relationships governed by patronage, held firm in town and country, and in a collective open-field parishscape which began to change fitfully, only after the Seven Years' War. The nature of the soil and the vagaries of the weather controlling a tithe paid in kind, coupled with an intact medieval parish system lacking proper endowment (stripped away at the Reformation) mocked the payment of adequate clergy stipends. Grossly underpaid parish clergy groaned under semi-official public servants representing prince, magistracy, or landowner. Gustav von Bergmann (1749–1814), son of a distinguished Weimar clergy family, who had studied at Leipzig (1767–70), vicar of the Latvian-speaking parish of Arrasch (Araizi, 1771–80), in a more accurate church history of Livonia modelled on Bossuet (1776), listed a heavy burden of work required by Swedish and German church order in addition to parish services in a large parish averaging 200 sq. kms.: catechization in church and at home; registration of parishioners, who came and

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went frequently; entry and provision of new statistical tables (since 1740–50) required for birth, marriage, and death and for taxation; announcement of notices about when to sow and harvest, and court cases; parish baptism, communion, and funeral addresses; parish visitation (particularly in the long Livonian winter), and a large official correspondence. He emphasized how, as a clergyman without private means, his stipend excluded buying the books he needed in a province with no public libraries. Bergmann did, however, make a name for himself with his smallpox vaccination programme; a programme which was carried out by many other German and Scandinavian clergy at this time.396 Senior clergy such as Herder, senior at Bückeburg in the tiny county of Schaumburg-Lippe (1771–6), and general superintendent of somewhat larger Saxony-Weimar-Eisenach (1776–1803), complained bitterly too about princelings who preferred press-gangs and taxing impoverished rural parishioners, owing to their constant search for ready cash to pay for little armies and courtly ostentation. Most Lutheran parish clergy, less so in Sweden and Württemberg where nobility were less extensive, struggled continuously with local gentry over payment of stipends and adequate maintenance of church and vicarage. Prerogatives (Gerechtsame) of noble patrons (however impoverished and minor, noblemen used von, and often an ‘affected’ manner to stress their otherness) which related to pews, order of precedence at parish communion, and a fashion of private baptism, communion, and burial, were another source of friction, especially in Baltic provinces stretching from Danish Slesvig to Livonia and Estonia. In Germany, north and east of the river Main, and in Scandinavia, stipends based on tithe in kind really depended on the willingness of patrons and rural parishioners to contribute, the variations of climate and soil, and what the Reformation had left of medieval diocesan arrangements. Danish stipends were defined by a line of poor to rich livings based on a corn tithe which spread from the sand and heath of poor Jutland to the good-soil parishes of Fyn and Sjælland. In Sweden, a similar line of poor to rich livings extended from the Arctic and mountainous northern periphery to the richer grain-producing

396

Bergmann, Geschichte von Livland nach bossuetscher Art (1776), 118–19. ‘Man könnte wohl viele liefländische und ehstländische Prediger nennen, die lange Zeit Amte gestanden, aber schon in 20 Jahren 6000 Kinder getauft, beynahe eben so viele begraben, 2000 junge Ehepaare getrauet, und etwa 130,000 Kommunikanten gezählt haben,’ Hupel, Topographische Nachrichten, ii. 107.

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central and southern dioceses. Tithe based on the major tertian tithe consisting of rye, barley, wheat, oats, peas, and beans was regulated by the clergy privileges of 1723. Clergy stipends in Holstein, the Mecklenburgs and Pomeranias, and Prussia (West and East after 1772) remained much the same as they were at the Reformation. In Livonia and Estonia, German parish clergy were somewhat better off as a privileged estate. They lived in vicarages roughly equivalent to a medium-sized manor, and drew on the services of plenty of domestics and field labourers. Economic change in the shape of a new manorial husbandry after 1750 (in Holstein visible as a switch to crop rotation (Koppelwirtschaft)) and enclosure could also be unbeneficial. Rapid enclosure and clearance of land (Bauernlegen), considered a profitable investment by landowners in the years of peace following 1763, destroyed the collective communal peasant parish, and implied even less income from stipends dependent on the payment of tithe in kind, and supplementary occasional fees. In Livonia and Estonia, increased labour service and clearance became the agricultural policy of an improving baronage in the late eighteenth century. Peasant parishioners started to be sold again as capital assets; many new edicts tried to prevent their running away. Peasant parishioners failed to turn up in church, and failed to pay occasional fees. Many disputes broke out over the sharing of church and vicarage maintenance by patrons who were supposed to supply material, and peasantry who supplied the labour—many of the latter, needless to say; preferred to invest their labour in building Moravian chapels. It was common enough in this environment to find parish clergy refusing gentry absolution before parish communion. Visitations at the end of the eighteenth century remained as pessimistic as at the beginning in the Pomeranias and Mecklenburgs, and in West and East Prussia. The average stipend obliged parish clergy to study farming and to work the vicarage glebe in order to sustain their families. The saying in East Prussia, ‘Look, how diligently the vicar studies when his wife does the husbandry’, became common.397 If parish clergy dared to challenge patrons, conflict broke out immediately, to their disadvantage, in parishes governed by statutory edicts and accords. This was disastrous for the employment of a professionally qualified clergy and for pastoral work. Stipends even in a southern German state such as Württemberg which had possessed central organs of established church government

397

Hubatsch, Kirche Ostpreuβens, i. 242–3.

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since the Reformation, and where nobility were less extensive, were not much better. A third of ducal Württemberg's ecclesiastical property (Geistliches Gut), put aside at the Reformation to pay the stipends of some 720 parish clergy, remained operative until 1806. By 1800, Stuttgart's consistory employed a cumbersome administrative apparatus of 2,007 officials managing a capital sum of between 5 to 6 million florins. But expansion of government and court (1680–1740) had reduced capital to a minimum, with the result that Württemberg's clergy were as badly or worse paid than other states. As happened elsewhere, prices rose and money values dropped both at the beginning and the end of the eighteenth century. Despite reforms (1738, 1793), almost 30 per cent of Württemberg's parish clergy existed on stipends below what was considered an existential minimum (1738, 29.5%; 1793, 26.6%), even if it was easier to live on 480 gulden in 1800 than on 200 in 1738.398 Everywhere in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia, there was great variation in tithe income dependent on soil, patrons, and peasantry. Occasional fees were considered a necessary supplement to income; one of the major reasons why fees for confession—an abuse which Pietists wanted abolished—were either retained or reintroduced. Things were a little better in larger towns, in enclaves like the island of Rügen, where parish clergy retained rights unchanged since the Middle Ages, or in states where clergy received patronage from the odd pious prince such as Duke Frederick of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (after 1763). He saw the importance of a properly paid clergy and well-maintained vicarages and churches. Parishes in town and country remained little corporate orders cut off from the events of the wider world. Herder, one of a select few parish clergy lucky enough to travel, exclaimed with a sense of relief when he left his first appointment as a junior clergyman in Riga (1767–9), to his Riga publisher, Johann Friedrich Hartknoch (1740–89): ‘You cannot imagine how far you can see, once you have left a specific situation’: travel by sailing ship to France was an ‘Archimedean turning-point’ in his provincial parish life so far.399 Herder's view was echoed in a diary written by Johann Christian Müller (1720–72), vicar of the Holy Spirit parish in Stralsund (Swedish Pomerania) since 1755.400 Small-town gossip, a family circle

398

Hasselhorn, Der altwürttembergische Pfarrstand, 14–15.

399

To Hartknoch, 15 Aug. 1769, Stavenhagen, ‘Herder in Riga’, 18.

400

Tagebuch des Stralsunder Predigers Joh. Chr. Müller (1720–72), 4, 8, 110–15.

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of acquaintances, family hospitality, and the search for suitable marriage partners governed parish life. Much emphasis was put on public etiquette. Manners and propriety (Akkuratesse, Anstand)—meaning setting an example in dress and conduct (Contenance, Betragen)—shaped town morality. It was necessary for young clergy to have an influential patron, the local squire or a town councillor, to gain preferment. Marrying in, Konservation, guaranteed preferment and the continuance of the clergy family, and spared the cost of a clergy widow's pension. Clergymen were forced to visit and bury parishioners according to an accepted customary order of rank. A clergyman could not afford to be too familiar with ordinary parishioners: at marriage feasts he was obliged to leave early after saying grace.401 Every extreme was anxiously avoided. It was difficult to achieve anything in an established local church which was seen as the institution which sanctioned and sanctified birth, baptism (within three, at most five days in the presence of three godparents), marriage, and burial in Stralsund's revised church order of 1729. The ideas of ‘blessing’ (Segen, Gnade)—in the sense of the well-known Capriccio that Bach wrote for a beloved brother departing for service in Charles XII's army—and ‘benediction’ (Weihe), sanctified family, home, church, and town. Grace was a matter of favour, not of right. A family circle of piety consisting of prayers, hymn-singing, reading the Bible, Luther's Little Catechism, Arndt, postils, and devotional books preparing the parishioner for parish communion—typical of Nicolai's Berlin family upbringing—complemented a pious public tone, an interest in God and the after-life, frequent visits to the clergyman as a confessor, and a reverence for nature as God's creation.402 This contrasted with desperately poor country parishes where a peasantry's labour service preceded a schooling in the Lutheran faith. Ignorance of the catechism and rules of kindred and affinity were as widespread as illegitimacy amongst a peasantry bound by manorial labour-service rules and the possible refusal of a landowner's consent to marriage, or who were simply too poor to marry.403 Both neighbouring Mecklenburgs (Schwerin and Strelitz) were similar, though the wordy compact Landesgrundgesetzlicher Erbvergleich of 1755 (533 paragraphs)—in force until 1918—was a great victory for the local

401

Ibid. 177–8.

402

Ibid. 8–29, 112, 139, 206–9. Aner, Der Aufklärer Friedrich Nicolai, 8–10.

403

Fuchs, Untergang des Bauernstandes: Vorpommern und Rügen, 173–80, 185–6.

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squirearchy over government by both dukes. Parish clergy were subjected to a gentry patron who suggested three candidates, supplied his own notary who did the protocol, and sent it to the superintendent. The local squire also decided on the order of pews, did the accounts with his vicar, and accompanied visitations. Distinction of birth was confirmed by the common practice of private communion, baptism, and marriage on the manor, and burial at night (§§ 474–510). Subsequent commentators wrote of a Lutheran provincial church reduced in status to that of wandering comedians and bear-keepers.404 To enlighten was hard in this parishscape. Spalding, who made the most important contribution to a renewal of the Lutheran office in Germany in the late eighteenth century (see below), as vicar of Lassahn (1749–57), and Barth (1757–64) in Swedish Pomerania, was well aware of the way these enclosed country parishes prevented proper payment and employment of a properly qualified parish clergy, and a Christian education of parishioners. However, such communities also had their idyllic aspects for some lucky clergy such as himself. Spalding valued the time he had to write and translate in a spacious vicarage study overlooking the Baltic at Barth, attend to his garden, watch the simple games of his three daughters in the garden, and conduct a happy family life consisting of visits to relatives, parishioners, and friends. It was a life of great charm and virtue, which visitors such as the Swiss painter Johann Heinrich Füssli (1741–1825; known in England, after 1765, as Henry Fuseli)—who painted Spalding and the Swiss poet and mystic Johann Kaspar Lavater (1741–1801), Füssli's companion during a German cultural tour in 1763, in Spalding's beautiful arbour—and Johann Friedrich Zöllner (1753–1804), a pioneer of modern schooling and Spalding's successor as provost of St Nicholas (after 1788), during his Swedish Pomeranian tour thirty years later in 1795, admired as being exemplary. Zöllner was particularly impressed by the fine apricot tree which Spalding had planted with its forty-foot branches spread out against the garden wall.405 At Barth, Spalding learnt life's natural

404

Schmaltz, Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs, iii. 145 passim ; Hope, ‘View from the Province’, 614.

405

Zöllner, Reise durch Pommern, (1797). 375–6. In Barth's parish church on the base of Anton Graf's portrait of Spalding: ‘Lehrer durch Rede, Schrift und Beispiel. Einst lohnt sich dafür der Menschheit gröster Lehrer Jesus Christus.’

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cycle of sadness and happiness, suffering the death of his first wife three days after the end of the Seven Years' War. For his contemporary Herder also, Frederician Berlin was by contrast a strange, unknown city. Spalding felt a keen sense of loss on his appointment to the provostship of St Nicholas in 1764, and his thirty years of office as a Berlin reformer were accompanied by much homesickness and frequent attempts to return to this warmer and more natural country parishscape.406 Sweden's parishscape in this period was similar, though parishioners had more of a sense of kinship with cathedral chapters and parish affairs. On the other hand, diocesan boundaries were like Chinese walls. Chapters continued to recruit their own clergy. Few clergy sought appointment far from their native parish. There was a clear division, sanctioned by successive clergy privileges, between a senior clergy close to nobles and upper class parishioners, and a large body of poor curates and chaplains. Samuel Ödmann (1750–1829), a reformer similar to Spalding whom he admired, penned a charming account (c. 1801) of customary parish life which he learnt during an upbringing (1750–61) by his uncle, Samuel Wiesel (1699–1773), scion of a Småland clergy dynasty, in the old rectory at Vislanda.407 Wiesel, an unexceptional rector, articulated a mixture of Catholic and Reformation piety which was handed down: a quiet vicarage day sanctified by the notion of ‘the Lord provides’, and regulated corporate household duties and prayer in which ‘everyone had his task, and every task its time’ (‘Hwar och en hade sin befattning och hwarje befattning sin tid’) in a still Catholic Christian Year beginning on Advent Sunday.408 His parish was a close, inward-looking corporate order in which parishioners addressed him and his wife as ‘dear father and mother’ (Käre Far, Kära Mor).409 Wiesel took little interest in high politics: he hardly ever read the proceedings of the clergy in parliament, though he approved of ‘harmonic’ government by four estates. There were no newspapers in his house, and he wrote few letters. He knew of the Seven Years' War only through official prayers of intercession and news brought home by soldiers

406

Spalding, Lebensbeschreibung, 72–9.

407

‘Hågkomster från hembygden och skolan’, Wijkmark (ed.), Ödmanns skrifter och brev (1925).

408

Ibid. 16, and passim, the charming account of the rector's Christmas Eve bath into which he was followed by his family and domestics.

409

Ibid. 26.

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from his parish. Pietism, Herrnhut, Deism, and free-thought on the modern intellectual map were as remote as the Jesuit mission to China. This was a parishscape in which clergy could cultivate their hobbies and eccentricities. The rural dean, Knut Lenaeus (1688–1776), who produced one of the first modern parish topographies (Delsboa Illustrata, 1764), was known for his horological passion. He positioned sundials everywhere round his vicarage and garden to teach his domestics what time it was.410 It was also a little world in which little new could be learnt. Ödmann, who as a schoolboy was good at maths and botany, described the curriculum framed by morning and evening prayers of Växjö cathedral school (with 150–200 pupils) during his schooldays (1761–8) as a mixture of much Latin, the catechism, vocabulary, and many good spankings. But Ödmann did become a master of written and spoken Latin and Greek, and as rector of Gamla Uppsala after 1790, and as a professor of theology after 1799, a noted homiletic, linguistic, and cultural reformer, who amongst much good work, introduced Captain Cook's voyage (1776–80) as a rattling good yarn for Swedes.411 Visitations almost everywhere in the unsettled period after 1790 exposed a lack of Enlightenment in contrast to a new emphasis on economic improvement and a civic culture after the Seven Years' War. Zöllner, during his 1797 tour, noted the way a lack of interest and cash amongst Pomeranian gentry had fashioned many poor parishes, decaying vicarages, and parish school buildings. How much better, he thought, would it be to amalgamate chapels of ease and use the money for parish education.412 Denmark was not much better in the thirty-five year period of enlightened state reform (1780–1815). Sunday in the countryside was a normal day of work; fields were ploughed and manured, and rye cut; and in Jutish cathedral towns such as Viborg, it was a day for exercising the militia. Christian VI's Sunday observance law (1735) was impossible to enforce: parish clergy, knowing that exacting labour service prevented attendance, were often unwilling to name parishioners. Many sensed the futility of enforcing a Christian education in parishes governed by the gentry's whims and purses. The medieval

410

Ödmann, ‘Prosten Lenæus i Delsbo och hans forsamling, på 1760-talet’, Wijkmark (ed.), Ödmanns skrifter och brev, 84.

411

Ödmann, Hågkomster, 31; Cook's voyage translated (Uppsala, 1787); good bibliog.: ‘Ödmann’, BL, 309–11.

412

Zöllner, 78, 191.

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parish church was a headache too. Building and fabric were often misused by patrons. Parish clergy and parishioners could say little when patrons needed to raise ready cash, as was the case when lead was stripped off the roof of St Ibs parish church on the island of Bornholm (1774). Clergyman and parishioners opposed Sjælland diocesan authorities, who argued that there was more than enough lead covering the roof. The vicar received a stiff rebuke for meddling in a matter which was considered irrelevant to his preaching office by Danske Lov. Churches under royal patronage suffered especially. Visitation reports in the 1780s provided many cases of disrepair. In some cases it was so bad that it was dangerous to stand in the pulpit, and, in one case, bell-ringing ordered on the death of the queen was limited to half the usual time: the tower was in too dangerous a state. Sometimes it was touchy even for a bishop. The new bishop of Aalborg in 1778 asked whether he could use three years of interest from the royal living of Janderup for necessary repairs to be carried out to his episcopal palace. He received a sharp letter: funds were not given or put aside for this purpose; such funds did not serve the church, and cash for renovating the palace had never been asked for before.413 Copenhagen University acted in much the same way. In 1779, it ordered the copper roof of Tårnby church on Armager to be taken down and replaced with stone, despite protests of parishioners who argued that their parish church cost hardly anything in annual maintenance and repairs. Diocesan and university authorities replied that it was irrelevant for parishioners if the roof was of copper or of stone. But in a lengthy lawsuit, parishioners eventually won: Tårnby's copper roof remained in place. Parish poverty remained endemic. Numbers of poor at the turn of the eighteenth century who were in receipt of alms and begging in the spring and late summer, especially in the lean years 1771–4, were as great as they had been a century or two earlier. The advent of land reform also produced large numbers of cottars and day labourers living below subsistence level. Hennings noted on his survey of Jutland (1779) very large numbers of beggars and loafers. They seemed to find it easier to get money by begging than by work. The situation was as bad in the capitals, Copenhagen and Stockholm. In Sjælland (1787), it was calculated that 12,000–15,000 in a rural population of some 200,000 were in receipt of alms.414 There seemed to be

413

Koch, Oplysningstiden i den Danske Kirke, 104.

414

Steensberg, Dagligliv i Danmark (1600–1800), ii. 238–9; Hennings, Ökonomische Betrachtungen einer im Jahre 1779 auf Befehl unternommene Reise durch Jutland (Copenhagen, 1786).

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no solution. Captains shipped beggars from one end of the realm to the other. The old cycle of war, weather, and bad harvests could not be broken either. Vagrancy increased especially after 1763, and the famine year 1770–71. Parishes and market towns proved unable to look after their own although obliged to by Denmark's Poor Law (1706). The new idea of townsmen contributing to poor relief by taxes (1734, 1762) on all Copenhagen's private and public buildings failed, because officials and townsmen still preferred the idea of gifts and free-will offerings. Inherited attitudes, as much as the parlous system of parish outdoor relief in the early modern state, constituted the nub of a worrisome situation, given (in Germany) a general increase by a factor of nine, in the poor population in country and town in the half-century 1750–1800. Beggars in some German states totalled 10 per cent of the population. This endemic parish poverty mocked provision of schools, schooling, and ‘enlightenment’. Cost presented as great a problem as in earlier Pietist times. It was calculated that 3,000 copies of the new hymn-book (1778), edited by Bishop Harboe and the minister Ove Høegh Guldberg (1731–1806) (replacing Kingo's of 1699), would cost the same in west Jutland market towns as would 7,000 in Copenhagen. The vicar of Varde in Ribe diocese replied that a third of his town's citizens were unable to buy it. Too many were printed; diocesan authorities were forced to wait for a good harvest; none came; Copenhagen's orphanage was left with 20,000 costing 60,000 rixdaler. They were eventually burnt in 1795.415 All this contributed to a manifest failure in changing popular religious practice. Danish baptism provides a good example. After 1771, when it became no longer obligatory to be baptized the Sunday after birth in the parish church, a new custom, immediate baptism at the vicarage, quickly established itself. Many parishioners feared that unbaptized children might be exchanged in the cradle (forbyttede).416 Visitations recorded several parishes where fonts were never used. Wine and church ornaments were still valued for their consecrated properties in healing the sick. The senior bishop, Balle, worried greatly about his national church. He cited the case of Store

415

Psalmebog, eller en Samling af gamle og nye Psalmer til Guds re og hans Menigheds Opbygelse ; Koch, 68–71; Grane (ed.), Københavns Universitet, v. 282.

416

Koch, 97–8.

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Hedinge in Sjælland diocese with its winged altar and picture of the Virgin Mary. Splinters continued to be cut from the large wooden cross facing the church porch to cure toothache and birth pains. The vicar suggested that both altar and cross be buried in a corner of the graveyard. Balle, worried that this would then become a hallowed area, suggested that both should be chopped up for firewood, and the proceeds sold to the poor of the parish. Copenhagen's chancellery also worried, telling the vicar to make up his mind if they were worthless or not; if so, he should chop them up himself and burn them, and give the same volume of firewood to the poor.417 This unreformed parishscape which became visible to the public eye for the first time in the 1820s was served, however, by a patriotic clergy generation who seriously tried to rebuild the authority of their office by advancing common welfare, education, and culture in a very restrictive environment. Spalding argued that if parish clergy were dependent on agriculture, they should at least know about it.418 To enlighten (aufklären), meaning to increase parish knowledge and modern skills, was something desired and not achieved; a process, not a result. Just so much was possible in the poor customary order described above, and within the statutory duties of local church order. In generational terms too, Pietism, Herrnhut, this enlightened generation of clergy, and the Protestant awakening (1800–50) were more or less contemporary. The Pietist, Pontoppidan, opened to the new climate of ‘improvement’ as editor of Denmark-Norway's first economic journal, Danmarks og Norges ökonomiske Magasin (eight volumes, 1757–64), and as the setter of prize questions to find the best way to reform the open-field and mercantilist systems. It is possible to point to an enlightened Grundtvig: to his public spirit and work with Danish lay education; also to an enlightened Schleiermacher who called for a modern pastoral theology based on the disciplines of history, geography, and statistics. But the reverse could happen too. An enlightened Danish parish clergyman, Niels Blicher, turned in old age to Grundtvig's awakening and Lutheran Neo-Orthodoxy. In parishes, this was not so much (as histories of theology or revivalists would have it) a process of one religious tendency opposing or replacing another, as one, in many cases, of hoping for better times.

417

Koch, 327.

418

Spalding, Nutzbarkeit des Predigtamtes (1772), 36–7.

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II. The Lutheran Ofce Revisited ‘Improvement’ of the public face of the church in the parish in the sense of what was beneficial to parishioners and the wider community of citizens (Gemeinnutz) reemphasized an ongoing debate put into sharper focus by Pietism and Herrnhut about what Lutheran Vocatio meant. To this was coupled further reform of the liturgy of public worship: the language of preaching, prayer, the catechism, and the liturgy linked to the sacraments of baptism and communion (Ch. 13). It is difficult today to sense the importance of a debate amongst Lutheran clergy which came to a head in the three decades 1770–1800. Print tells us little about a generation which dared to speak out, despite church orders which laid down strictly what could and could not be said in pulpits, and whose mass of parish duties gave little time for committing quills to paper. Collegialism, meaning a voluntaristic contractual view of the Protestant church as a ‘college’, ‘society’, or ‘corporation’, with privileged status in the new public law of the state, as taught by Böhmer, Pfaff, and Mosheim with British and Dutch pastoral (moral) theology at the universities of Halle, Tübingen, Helmstedt, and Göttingen, was a powerful current in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia shaping this public-spirited churchmanship in the late eighteenth century. A collegiate sense amongst Lutheran clergy was fostered too by the challenge of Pietist and Moravian lay churchmanship. The renewal of the personal faith of the preacher was taken as a major part of all this. Pfaff, in lectures to his Tübingen students (1742) on the new Protestant canon law, pointed to a new Reformation Europe: to the many Protestant churches which governed themselves, such as the Presbyterians, Independents, and Quakers in Great Britain, and to the Reformed, French Huguenot, Remonstrants, and Mennonites in the Netherlands; even Germany had its Moravian Brethren (in 1733 Pfaff had signed in 1733 Tübingen's theology faculty report which legitimated Herrnhut in Protestant Germany).419 Lutheran ordinands should open hearts and minds to this new Protestant churchscape; time had passed by. Pfaff argued, as did his good friend, Buddeus, and his fellow chancellor at Göttingen, Mosheim, that moral theology (Dutch and Anglican) as preparation for work in the everyday world of the local parish was a

419

Pfaff, Academische Reden über das so wohl allgemeine als auch Teutsche Protestantische Kirchen-Recht, 41–2.

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sure middle-of-the-road between the extremes of Orthodox Lutheran metaphysics, Enthusiasm, and Deism. University theology was best seen as a practical subject which followed the pastoral example of Christ and His Apostles. The essence of Pfaff's three-year course of pastoral theology consisted of knowledge of the Bible and Reformation sources: especially Württemberg's local church order and liturgy. Church history (introduced at Tübingen in 1751) was not divine, but made by men. Superfluous theology lectures were reduced so as to give time for training ordinands as catechists, and for pastoral practice. A primary duty of a reborn pastorate was pastoral vigilance over parishioners. Pfaff encouraged confirmation, introduced to Württemberg in 1722 (obligatory first in 1785), and visitation of the poor and sick, while arguing, in common with Halle, for a reduction of the number of festivals in the Christian calendar. This was the way forward with parishioners who liked customary observance. Also, parishioners lost a sense of Andacht faced with a prescribed annual rite of worship, and a parish clergy who often misinterpreted the order of service. It was better to involve parishioners in a modern vernacular liturgy which they understood: Christ spoke quite simply according to circumstance. Tübingen, perhaps more provincial than either Jena or Halle, was, as part of south German ‘Reformed’ church order, more open to Protestant Europe. Pfaff was quick to learn and propagate a modern Protestant apologetics which sank confessional differences, and presented a united Protestant front against a modern secular culture visible at Stuttgart's court, and a fashionable mid-century Deism.420 Toleration had its limits. Pfaff's practical theology was complemented by Mosheim, though he differed in his profounder sense of the way the Lutheran clergy office was abused by the state at this time. Lutheran clergy were not a convenience for the state: this was to misuse Luther. Mosheim softened the Erastian in Thomasius, and emphasized the apostolic in Böhmer, his good friend. His bitter experience of arbitrary princely government in royal Denmark, ducal Holstein, and ducal Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel worried him greatly about the future of the clergy. The attempts of Duke Charles of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel (1735–80) to imitate the military states of Louis XIV

420

Pfaff, Entwurff der Theologie Anti-Deisticae (Giessen, 1757); Academische Reden über den Entwurff der Theologie Anti-Deisticae, da die Entwürffe der ungläubigen Geister wider die Christliche Offenbahrung entwickelt werden (Frankfurt, 1759).

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and Frederick the Great, and his absurd expenditure on his little worldly court, theatre, and opera impoverished his parish clergy who were overburdened with piddling official duties. It was an outrage to spend an annual 70,000 thaler on a tiny opera when most parish clergy existed on stipends worth less than 200 thaler a year. The pretentious little Lutheran court of his age was an affront to parish clergy. Mosheim's simultaneous experience of theological squabbles also caused him to teach future ordinands the meaning of a tolerant middle of the road.421 It was necessary to break out of established local churches, to see the historical development of the Christian church, and recognize the different religious world, shaped by Pietism, in which he lived. Even ‘unconverted’ ordinands could learn to preach with the heart, to uphold the Bible and its ‘objective’ authority, and to follow Jesus's life and example. But religious Enthusiasm which opposed the ways of the world was avoidable. It was better to be open: to see the world for what it was. Religious squabble (Gezänk) and disturbance (Unruhe) served no one. Mosheim shared Buddeus's and Pfaff's dislike of external ceremony: important was personal worship demonstrating fear, love, and reverence towards God. If the clergy were part of the civil order, they were chiefly servants (Diener) of a Gospel for the parishioner. Their office was divinely instituted by Jesus: following Him was the sole reason for their dignity. Pastoral care was the cure of souls, meaning conversion and preparation for salvation through preaching the reconciliation of sinful mankind with a perfect God. But seventeenth-century Orthodoxy was past history. His day distinguished between the office and the person who exercised it. The clergyman was not an ‘immediate’ servant of God. On the other hand, Mosheim retained confession of sins before communion and the exclusion of unworthy parishioners from parish communion. The Bible was morally authoritative for a pastoral training, though Christian doctrine did not contradict human reason. A professional clergy was essential to the Christian commonweal. Social esteem arose from a more professional academic training, and material well-being consisting of stipends which allowed clergymen to combine learning with pastoral care. An ordained and properly qualified clergy was very necessary, given the arguments of Thomasian lawyers and the growth of religious dissent. Instruction

421

Stroup, Struggle for Identity, 53.

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and advice (Lehren, Ermahnen) was not a matter for all. Mosheim's collegialism, informed by the Hanoverian connection (Mosheim was obviously unaware of Georgian patronage), went so far as to say that parish clergy interests were best defended in England, where the clergy sat in parliament. Owing to his experience both of absolutist Denmark, and as a member representing (as abbot) the Protestant monasteries of Michaelstein and Marienthal in Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel's Landtag, Mosheim saw intermediary powers (he admired Montesquieu) as essential to a modern professional church.422 Mosheim's course of pastoral theology was similar to that of Buddeus and Pfaff, but was also influenced locally by the warm pastoral theology of Calixtine Helmstedt (Georg Calixtus, 1586–1656, had tried to reconcile Lutherans, Calvinists, and Catholics theologically) and the example of Gerard Walter Molanus (d. 1722) at Loccum and Riddagshausen.423 Mosheim, a warm, but rigorous teacher, insisted on a four-year course (two years under Calixtus) for all Hanoverian ordinands regardless of whether or not they served country parishes. He put aside Calixtus's distinction between a longer training for university theologians guarding the true faith, and and a shorter pastoral one for parish clergy. University pastoral theology provided a better training for all clergy, and a better defence against secularism associated with Deism.424 A working knowledge of the biblical languages was a requirement for Bible-reading and Reformation doctrine. On the other hand, there was less Latin, less doctrinal theology, and more on the sources of the Christian tradition, church history (Mosheim was appointed professor of church history at Helmstedt in 1725), and church administration. The exclusive academic world with its privileges and special courts was set aside. Pastoral theology was a training in teaching the catechism, the exercise of pastoral care, and preaching. Attention was paid to the finer details of the public face of the parish clergyman:

422

Mosheim, Allgemeines Kirchenrecht der Protestanten, 604–6; Stroup, 56.

423

Mosheim's lectures: Pastoral-Theologie von denen Pflichten und Lehramt eines Dieners des Evangelii, auf Kosten guter Freunde (Frankfurt, 1754; second edn. 1763); C. E. von Windheim (ed.), Anweisung, erbaulich zu predigen, aus den vielfältigen Vorlesungen des seligen Herrn Canzlers verfasset (Erlangen, 1762; second edn., 1771). See I. Mager, Georg Calixts theologische Ethik und ihre Nachwirkungen (Göttingen, 1969).

424

Mosheim's criticism of John Toland, Nazarenus or Jewish, Gentile, and Mahometan Christianity (1718); German anti-Deist literature 1720–40: Heussi, Mosheim, Beitrag zur Kirchengeschichte, 51–5.

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his conduct, proper dress, and a postgraduate training in seminaries such as Loccum and Riddagshausen should be supported by public taxation. Mosheim argued that parish clergy, installed contrary to a parish congregation's right to choose its incumbent, received little love and respect. Appointment, which no patron had any right to dictate, was a matter for the church alone. Improved stipends helped independence. Poor stipends, the result of the secularization of church property by Reformation states, courts which squandered public money, and the increasing curtailment of clergy rights and privileges by absolute princes, were the real reasons for the clergy's loss of moral authority. Typical was Mosheim's annoyance at pressure put by patrons on parish clergy to work the glebe as a way of augmenting stipends. This prevented proper attention to pastoral care. If heavy taxation had to carry on in Hanoverian lands, then an attempt should be made to cut the cost of court and bureaucracy: even to recruit a clergy with means. Proper living standards made it easier for parish clergy to serve parishioners. Mosheim's course of theology at Göttingen thus confronted the dependency system head on, but his humane and clear teaching made him very popular. Pupils transcribed his lecture notes to spread the message, and many posthumous editions of his lectures became standard Göttingen textbooks for many German and Scandinavian parish clergy until the end of the century. These arguments were supported by mid-century Pietist senior clergy with an experience of parish work. Johann Philipp Fresenius (1705–61), son of an impoverished rural clergy family near Kreuznach in the Rhine Palatinate, retained throughout his career a God-fearing sense of what it meant to be poor, and of human dignity. A disciple of Rambach, he introduced, as Frankfurt am Main's chief pastor (1748–61), a humane pastoral tone. This was best captured by Goethe's mother, who described herself as being his spiritual daughter, and by Goethe himself in Dichtung und Wahrheit, who used the Pietist adjective ‘gentle’ (sanft) when describing Fresenius as an attractive, approachable pastor and a good preacher whom Frankfurters considered exemplary. To read Fresenius's pastoral writing is to see where Goethe learnt his Pietist vocabulary, and to understand why Fresenius became a much loved pastoral and devotional author in Germany and Scandinavia.425 If

425

Raisig, Theologie und Frommigkeit bei Johann Philipp Fresenius, 27; Pinson, Pietism as a Factor in the Rise of German Nationalism, 44–5.

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Fresenius spoke the Pietist language of ‘innate decay’, spiritual unrest (Unruhe), repentance, the need for a state of grace, rebirth, and the saving divine light spoken of by St John, he also linked faith and reason as gifts, emphasizing the importance of experience and the critical faculty. As Frankfurt's senior, Fresenius, like Mosheim, called an ordained clergy to defend a reborn office which they had gained through Luther's Reformation. On the other hand, he was more exclusive than either Mosheim or Pfaff. He remained hostile to Frankfurt's Reformed congregation, arguing that they should be kept beyond the walls, and he supported Frankfurt's magistracy in its ban (1733) on Moravian and ‘enthusiastic’ ways of preaching. Like Buddeus, Mosheim, and Pfaff, Fresenius was also a principled opponent of Deism and ‘free spirits’: he ordered Johann Christoph Edelmann's (1697–1767) enthusiastic tracts to be burnt by the public hangman on the Römerberg. His widely publicized conversion in 1759 of a believer in natural religion, Baron von Dyhern, predated Münter's similar public conversion of Struensee.426 Fresenius mixed pietas with prudentia, meaning an eye for the development of Christian history and the problems of his age. The chief task of parish clergy as viri occasionales was to address the spiritual needs of individual parishioners. Fresenius recorded his new practical pastoral theology linking church and home in a twenty-four volume pastoral journal, Pastoral-Sammlungen (1748–60), which he edited in his spare time as a way of sharing his pastoral experience with other parish clergy. Fresenius spoke and wrote personally using the simple form of question and reply. He spent much time replying to pastoral questions such as what to do with sermons which got out of hand (commenting in the margin that this wasted energy, and that as a young pastor he found it hard to be brief, but learnt it ‘little by little’ (nach und nach)); on the importance of prayer; the rules of kindred and affinity; parochial detail, such as Frankfurt's fair (Kirmes), which provided an opportunity for three to four days' dancing, drinking, and unruly behaviour (Raserei) which he thought prostituted Christianity, or whether the strolling musicians who played at Kirchweihen (consecration or dedication of churches) and annual

426

English edns.: Sovereign Grace display'd, in the remarkable conversion of G. C. Dyhern, Baron etc. (Rochester, 1770); The Death-Bed Terrors of an Infidel: or, a Modern Freethinker exemplified in the last awful hours of a Gentleman . . . who departed from Christianity, and turned Deist. To which is added . . . the glorious salvation of Baron Dyhern from Infidelity (by J. P. Fresenius) (London, 1770).

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markets could communicate.427 Fresenius instructed his clergy that, as public servants, they should remind rulers of their Christian duty, avoid public scandals, and pray for good government. In Denmark and Sweden, Pietism coincided and mixed quite easily with enlightened churchmanship. Pontoppidan lived long enough. As bishop of Bergen (1748–54), he became convinced during his visitations in the three short Norwegian summer months, that his diocesan clergy had much to learn from successful Moravian mission in Bergen and Drammen. He combined this observation with a touch of the Linnéan in his Natural History of Norway, describing a natural world of beauty and chance; news of the Lisbon earthquake, or the eruption of Vesuvius (1755/6) revealed to his reason a divine being which is the agent of change. Denmark was lucky (lyksalig) compared to other countries such as Portugal, or those involved in the Seven Years' War.428 His piety could complement a patriotic interest in economic improvement, or an accurate description of his homeland in a new two-volume Den danske Atlas (1763–4). On the other hand, he also lived long enough to experience the more permissive court of Frederick V, and Deism (natural religion, free thought) as a new intellectual fashion in Copenhagen. This provided an opportunity to refresh his views on the clergy office he had experienced in England, the Netherlands, and Halle. Pontoppidan's Collegium pastorale practicum (1757), based on his Copenhagen University lectures, was the first lengthy Danish discussion of pastoral care since Niels Hemmingen (1562).429 The pastoral purpose of Pietism to awaken and move the feelings (Gemytterne), and sharpen up basic truths common to both Lutheran and Reformed churches, resurfaced, as did the argument for training the clergy as a profession which practised true Christianity in the manner of Fresenius. Pontoppidan returned to his view that the Reformation had not gone far enough (en halv Reformation), and

427

Pastoral-Sammlungen, 23. 271; (‘Von der Nothwendigket des Gebets’) 21. 416–22; 1. 167–9; 22. 217–41.

428

Neiiendam, Pontoppidan, ii. 201, 210–11.

429

The preface lists amongst others, Arnold (Gestalt eines evangelischen Lehrers ), S. J. Baumgarten (Pastoral-Theologie ), Deyling (Prudentia Pastoralis ), Francke (Collegium Pastorale ), Fresenius (Pastoral-Sammlungen ), Hartmann (Pastorale ), Kortholt (Pastor fidelis ), Semler (Theologie Pastoralis practica ), Spener (Theologische Bedenken ), and the Anglicans: Richard Baxter, Gildas Salvianus: the Reformed Pastor (London, 1656), Oliver Bowles, De pastore evangelico tractatus (London, 1649), Gilbert Burnet, A Discourse of the Pastoral Care (London, 1692).

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wrote pessimistically about how things had not changed much since he wrote on superstition in the 1730s. Most Danes still led an unevangelical life in a countryside where few could read a book. There was an urgent need to practise pastoral care in the vernacular: Baxter wrote in English rather than Latin to reach his fellow clergy. The office was a part of both divine and human order between noble and peasant. Clergy should know themselves first in a ‘church’ uniting a ‘fellowship of many parts’. A basic academic training consisting of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, modern languages such as English and French, and knowledge of the law of nature and man's civil duties was necessary in the new Danish environment of public law fashioned by his contemporary, Holberg. Law was also a good career for those who realized they were not suited to be clergymen. Important, too, was a sense of history, of human achievements, suffering, and the fortunes of different countries at different times. Parish clergy should present themselves as pious and virtuous (dyd) men, versed in speaking to the man and woman in the pew, showing ingenuity (Snilhed) in appearing to advantage with them (og tage Almuen med Fordeel).430 Parochial virtues were listed as seriousness (gravity), gentleness (Sagtmodighed), care for others, moderation in passions, propriety, sober-mindedness. First be a Christian like John Bunyan, then a preacher like Rambach and Fresenius.431 The sacraments of baptism and communion as a professio christianismi publica et solennis were as essential as moral theology (Fornuft-Læren, Philosophia moralis). Reason for Pontoppidan, as for Fresenius, was an attribute of grace or divine light. Essential to good pastoral care of parishioners was knowledge of the catechism, a proper knowledge of the meaning of baptism and communion, the right use of the confessional, and an understanding of the liturgy of public worship. As did the Saxons, Gerber and Deyling, Pontoppidan called for moderation in liturgical matters. Clergy should follow 1 Corinthians 10: 23, and 1 Corinthians 8: 13, but always have the simple average parishioner in mind. He cited Hartmann's example of an old man saying that simple folk did not worry overmuch about knowledge of the Ten Commandments: they left it to the vicar and his learned fellow clergy to wear their brains out.432 Parish clergy should keep a

430

Pontoppidan, Collegium pastorale practicum, 160.

431

‘En præst bør være vir candidus, cordatus et quadratus, en Nathanael, en Israelit uden Svig’, ibid. 113. ‘Preach as you are’: ‘Følg lige frem dit eget Naturel, behold din egen sædvanlige Røst, dine egne sædvanlige Gebærder’, ibid. 174–6.

432

Ibid. 545.

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register of the spiritual state of parishioners; regularly visit homes, the sick, and prisoners; pioneer better schooling: it was good practice to take children home to the vicarage. The main duty of the office was to watch over souls. This book was Pontoppidan's spiritual testament. He died on 20 December 1764 literally with quill in hand: feeling death coming, he said to his wife, ‘Greet my friends, and say that I die in the faith of Jesus Christ.’ Pontoppidan's pastoral example, like that of Fresenius, was remembered by many parish clergy and congregations long enough to be taken up by the awakening after 1800. The second edition of Pontoppidan's Collegium (1765) was translated into Swedish with a biography and bibliography, and was followed by five Swedish editions. It influenced Schartau and his disciples, and it was used as a textbook for pastoral theology lectures at Uppsala University in the 1830s, lasting until c. 1860.433 A similar influential pastoral theology was fashioned across the Sound by Sven Bælter (1713–60), dean of Växjö cathedral after 1750. He wrote the first accurate account of Sweden's rite of public worship (published posthumously in 1762).434 Bælter, like Mosheim, knew the darker side of the world as a child born to misfortune: on 21 May 1721 the Russian fleet bombarded and burnt Stockholm and his family lost their home and possessions. It was an experience he never forgot, and one which he recalled especially twenty years later in 1741 when the Finnish war (1741–3) began, in a sermon preached in Uppsala cathedral on the annual fourth day of intercession.435 Bælter was also dogged by ill-health exacerbated by working in Växjö cathedral's damp chapter-house. Sudden disaster, retribution, and the parish clergyman's uphill task in the enclosed Swedish diocese, coloured his view of providence. He frequently sighed, as in his Boxing Day sermon (1742), that God alone knew what a heavy cross it was to preach year in, year out, and to teach, pray, and admonish, and see no improvement.436 But things were not always so bad; Bælter, a theology student at Uppsala in the 1730s, became a pupil and disciple of Linné, and benefited as a good preacher from royal patronage. As Adolf Fredrik's court chaplain, and as chaplain to the Swedish embassy sent

433

Neiiendam, ii. 312.

434

Historiska Anmarkingar Om Kyrcko-Ceremonierna (1762).

435

Sundelin, Bælters lif och homiletiska karakter, 6–7, 39 passim.

436

Ibid. 10–11.

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to St Petersburg (1744–5) to treat with Czarina Elizabeth after the peace of Åbo (1743), Bælter saw a wider world to which he contributed as a transmitter of culture: he became the go-between of Linné and the German botanist, Gmelin, taking back to Uppsala three copies of Gmelin's Flora Sibirica and Siberian seeds and plants for Uppsala's botanical gardens. Stockholm and St Petersburg exposed Bælter also to post-war Swedish Pietism and Moravianism, to whose caring churchmanship he warmed. He became a friend and disciple of city Pietist clergy such as Tolstadius, Murbeck, Anders Båld (d. 1751), Jonas Hellman (d. 1741), Anders Gradin (d. 1751), and Mikael Fant (d. 1754), and as a preacher learnt much from Abraham Petersson (d. 1763), known as Sweden's Tillotson. These clergy opened his eyes to Hallesian pastoral theology and the pastoral example of Rambach and Fresenius, and to German seventeenth-century devotional authors such as Arndt and Scriver, whose Seelenschatz Bælter used for many of his sermons. When he was a curate in Uppsala (1739–44), students who came to him from Stockholm (1741–3) to learn to preach were shown the good sides of Herrnhut: the need to preach Jesus more seriously, and to link justification with sanctification. Herrnhut shaped Bælter's insistence on the warm heart-to-heart sermon, and Halle and Herrnhut provided the spiritual weaponry needed to combat Deism. Their spiritual and practical example helped to give dignity to his pastorate; a simple life of prayer, and pastoral work caring for the diocesan poor and needy and visiting—more as a friend than out of duty—fellow clergy and parishioners. He enjoyed the solace of books in an inclement world: after rising at 5 a.m., Bælter occupied himself with his ‘best friends’ until midday, and from 4 p.m. until late in the evening. He willed his library in 1756 to the library of Växjö grammar school. Like Pontoppidan and Spalding, Bælter was a patriot: next to God there was no higher value than the fatherland. To honour authority and laws, and to love peace and unity, coloured the sermons he delivered at the time of the uprising in Dalarna (Dalupproret, May 1743) following the disastrous course of the Finnish war, and during his active membership of parliament (1751–2). Vows taken according to Sweden's Church Law, and Christian authority were the only sure defence in a world of blind chance, he argued. Decorum and discipline mattered much in a parishscape of lax village morals and misuse of alcohol in Småland, and widespread ignorance of church

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law on kindred and affinity. Parish clergy therefore needed to value the Swedish rite, which Bælter saw as in line with liturgical development since the Early Church. These arguments he tempered with the vocabulary of Linnéan refreshment: Christianity was a garden with two spiritual gardeners, vigilance (Vaksamheten), and prayer: a health-giving spring which refreshed thirsty souls.437 He was therefore far more positive than Fresenius about music, dancing, and card-playing, and like Mosheim, whose pastoral and homiletic writings he read while at St Petersburg, he argued that much could be understood and improved by common sense. He disliked the self-righteous and sanctimonious Puritan, and he argued in an established church where religious censorship remained in force that time had moved on to a modern clergy office which shared the same language with men and women in the pew, and served their worldly as much as their spiritual needs. Spalding, of the same generation as Bælter, and sharing a similar experience of exacting country-parish work in neighbouring Swedish Pomerania until 1764, finally brought this principled debate to the attention of a new enlightened German and Scandinavian public for the first time. In On the Usefulness of the Preaching Office and its Advancement (1772), which Spalding, as the new provost of St Nicholas and St Mary (1764–88), published in Berlin, he reflected on his earlier pastoral experience using for effect the same clear logical prose of modern critics of the clergy such as Hume and Lessing, to defend the Reformation office against the charge of redundancy.438 However, almost thirty years of office as a senior clergyman in enlightened Berlin has tended to overshadow Spalding's Christocentric piety and practical-minded pastorate. Spalding is usually classified as a leading theological ‘Neologist’: he had translated major representatives of British natural religion—Anthony Ashley Cooper, third earl of Shaftesbury (1671–1713), James Foster (1697–1753), Francis Gastrell (1662–1725), and Joseph Butler (1692–1752)—and he was in Berlin's senior consistory until retirement in 1791, and a good friend of Berlin's enlightened senior clergy involved in a major reform of Brandenburg-Prussian church order, its liturgy, and religious education.439 But a reading of his book, and an awareness of his pastorate

437

Dellner, Bælter, en homiletisk studie, 110–11.

438

Spalding, Über die Nutzbarkeit des Predigtamtes und deren Beförderung (Berlin, 1772).

439

Spalding translated Shaftesbury's The Moralists: A Philosophical Rhapsody (1745), and his Inquiry into Virtue (1747), Foster's Observations on Natural Religion (1751–3), Gastrell's Deistic Principles (1755), Butler's Analogy (1756).

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before and after appointment in Berlin, shows clearly enough how Spalding used his wide reading of British natural religion (particularly Butler's refutation of Deism in his Analogy) and German enlightened theology to defend the Reformation office against enlightened critics who had little time for either clergy or church. There is more than a touch of Mosheim in Spalding's book; the contents—the elevated prose style too—are reminiscent of Shaftesbury, Butler, and Montesquieu, in Spalding's emphasis on the supreme authority of conscience, the moral force of virtue, disinterested Christian benevolence, and a cautionary sense of how far one should go with change. ‘What is Christ for us?’ we should ask ourselves: this primary question (repeated later in his autobiography) guided Spalding's sincere vocation from ordination to be useful in spreading Christian knowledge and ways of thinking amongst his parishioners. Melanchthon's humanist learning also guided his pastorate. Spalding loved books, and insisted on the need for parish reading-circles and libraries. He wanted a respected professional clergy, though he made it clear that it was an uphill task in a deferential and customary parish order. Decent stipends, not apostolic poverty, were essential if parish clergy were to act as moral leaders in their parishes. Ordination did not make them a class apart close to divinity. They were simply clergymen who usefully served fellow parishioners and their country as ‘depositaries’, ‘teachers of virtue’ (Tugendlehrer) of public morality.440 Clergymen needed to have a sense of office and pride in their job; they should show serious dedication and piety; but less of Pietism as a personal religious enthusiasm. A willingness to help those in need and endure heavy burdens without a sorry face was an extremely difficult task; the human face of Christ's moral and practical example was what gave the office its ‘dignity’. The Christian church is a church for this world. Lutheran scholastic university theology, which Spalding had learnt at Rostock (1731–3), with its emphasis on mind and memory and confessional walls, was poor preparation for a shared Christian life with parishioners. Spalding's message quickly became public in a splenetic reply by Herder as the senior clergyman of Bückeburg. Although Herder

440

Spalding, Nutzbarkeit, 54–5.

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shared a similar pastoral experience and the same concern in improving the lot of poor rural clergy in his native Frederician East Prussia and Schaumburg-Lippe, his anger about the secular culture of Frederick the Great's court bubbled over at this unfortunate new appointment. Schaumburg-Lippe under its count, Wilhelm (1748–77), was one of the worst examples of Mosheim's pretentious little rural courts, coupled with the worst excesses of Frederician Prussia. Ubiquitous press-gangs, the highest military expenditure of any Westphalian or Hanoverian territory, Count Wilhelm's obsession with a second Sparta modelled on Potsdam and the military reforms he had carried out in Pombal's Portugal, dismissed Spalding's parish clergy as ‘depositaries of public morality’. It was a time too when Herder was thinking about a similar defence of the Reformation office and the liturgy of public worship: restoring ‘Orthodoxy, true Theology, against the current of our Deist century’ as he put it in a letter to a friend.441 Herder's An Prediger: Fünfzehn Provinzialblätter (1774), took Pascal's Pensées and his Provincial Letters to juxtapose clergy in the provinces and in a capital such as Berlin.442 Spalding was an Escobar: a spokesman of fashionable Stoicism which dispensed with the wager implied by sola fide; the office was scriptural rather than ethical; clergymen were not moral policemen in Frederick the Great's police state; a scriptural office handed down from Melchizedek and the Patriarchs and Prophets was, in Pascal's and Melanchthon's sense, sanctified; God's Word alone, in the sense of Luther's Preface to the 1539 edition of his writings, and Pascal's gloss on Psalm 119: 36—‘incline my hear unto thy testimonies’—was the essence of the ministry. Herder clearly bypassed, or misunderstood, Spalding's shared misgivings about ‘duty’ (Pflicht) in Berlin, where, much against his will, Spalding had to preach at solemn Te Deums celebrating Prussian victories. Herder also emphasized points Spalding would have agreed with: following Christ as the ‘author and finisher of our faith’, Hebrews 12: 2; the Bible, ‘each book in terms of time, place, important and less important subjects’, as guide; the importance of vows taken at ordination, and that traditional Reformation church order should not be thrown overboard simply because it did not match current philosophic or courtly fashion. If Herder's criticism of Spalding was one which he subsequently

441

To G. F. Brandes, 5 Jan. 1776, Briefe, 3, no. 219.

442

Herder, Werke, vii. 225–312, and previous draft (1773), ibid. 173–224.

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regretted, a healthy public debate—which his riposte summoned up—lay at the heart of an argument which continued during an awakening coincident with a new century.

13 Liturgical Reform: The End of the Established Church I. A Modern Liturgy? Public debate about the Lutheran office was symptomatic of a new uncensored climate in capital cities such as Berlin, Copenhagen, Stockholm, or Riga, important regional towns such as Königsberg, and even little residences such as Weimar which started to open their gates to modern culture. Official religious censorship was abolished in SwedenFinland in 1766; and in Denmark-Norway briefly, 1772–91. A new, critical, public press consisting of journals and newspapers appeared. Senior clergy in office in the period 1770–1840 were an open-minded generation. In Berlin, Friedrich Samuel Sack (1738–1817), offspring of a distinguished Huguenot family, a scholar conversant with Anglican church order and its liturgy after an English tour in 1758–9 (he befriended the biblical scholar Benjamin Kennicott, 1718–83, and the tolerant archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Secker, 1693–1768), Reformed court chaplain since 1777, Sack tried to promote the common element in the Reformed and Lutheran churches as a member both of Berlin's Reformed Directory since 1780, and Berlin's senior Lutheran consistory after 1786. He had also married the sole surviving daughter of the Lutheran provost of St Nicholas, Spalding; a rare step for a senior clergyman at this time. Sack revised Brandenburg-Prussian church order and liturgical arrangements with a view to uniting the Lutheran and Reformed churches, writing an influential book on the subject in 1812.443 He died on 2 October 1817, shortly before his dreamedof Union took place on 30–31 October. Sack was no time-server. Like his father-in-law, he criticized Potsdam enlightenment, and opposed Wöllner's

443

Sack, Über die Vereinigung der beiden protestantischen Kirchenparteien in der preuβischen Monarchie (Berlin, 1812).

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religious edict (1788) as a retrograde step. His son, Karl Heinrich (1789–1875), a professor of theology at Bonn (1818–60), carried on his father's good work, wrote books on the Anglican Church (1818) and Scottish Presbyterian Church (1844), and chaired debates in the first national Synod of Protestant clergy and laity at Berlin in 1846. Similarminded clergy were active in Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Uppsala. Nikolai Edinger Balle (1744–1816)—influenced as a visiting student in Leipzig and Halle (1766–9) by the cultural reformers Ernesti and Gellert and by the modern theology of Johann Salomo Semler (1725–91)—a professor of theology at Copenhagen (1772–83), and after 1783 bishop of Sjælland, led the way in church reform which tried to give Denmark a modern church order and liturgy and a modern replacement for Pontoppidan's lengthy catechism using a temperate hand in the radical Danish climate of the 1790s. Balle was a leading light in the great education commission (1789–1814) which produced Denmark's progressive school law of 1814. However, his short modern catechism (Lærebog, 1791) was rejected angrily by awakened parishioners when it was introduced to schools in 1794. Uppsala produced two famous reforming archbishops. Uno von Troil (1746–1803) became notable outside Sweden for making Iceland known to the modern world by his Letters on Iceland (London, 1780), published after his Icelandic voyage in the summer of 1772 with Joseph Banks (1743–1820).444 Although Troil was as overawed by Iceland's contrast between fire and ice as Egede had been fifty years earlier by Greenland's snow and icebergs, Troil's letters express an intimacy and romance with nature (Fingal's cave, Ossian) wholly different from Egede's Pietist account. He was one of the first to reach and admire Staffa island's basalt colonnades, and the first to reach Heckla volcano. Troil was a good friend of the German modern scholars and cultural reformers, the orientalist, Michaelis, and the church historian, Christian Wilhelm Walch (1726–84), a professor of theology (from 1757) at Göttingen, and Ernesti at Leipzig. He was appointed archbishop in 1787 at—by Swedish standards—the tender age of 40. Troil was a polymath and a warm-hearted patriot noted for his winning ways; a man who saw the urgency of improving Swedish parish schooling and poor relief; and in church affairs, a pioneer of an accurate modern history of

444

‘I was glad to visit a country where I could not alone hope to find many remains of our ancient language, but where I was to see nature in a new point of view’, Letters, 2.

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Sweden's church, and a modern liturgy. Troil presided over liturgical commissions appointed at the bicentenary (1793) commemorating the great Uppsala Convocation of clergy (1593). He was supported by Ödmann as pastor of Gamla Uppsala and as a theology professor who founded Uppsala's first modern pastoral seminary in 1806. The other reformer was Troil's friend, Jacob Axelsson Lindblom (1746–1819), bishop of Linköping after 1786, and Troil's successor as archbishop (1805). At Linköping, Lindblom was remembered as a builder of parish churches and as an active bishop fostering diocesan deanery meetings; he edited Sweden's brief first theological journal, Journal för prester (1797–9); saw to completion the reform of Sweden's liturgy, catechism, and hymn-book inaugurated by Troil; and supervised the new education legislation of 1807 and 1820. They began to take notice of Italy, Rome, and Catholic reform. In Germany, Goethe and Herder at ‘Classical Weimar’, warmed to Catholic culture, though Herder remained cooler to Rome's ritual, which he experienced in Holy Week, 1789.445 Copenhagen, in particular, became the symbol of a modern Danish and northern European republic of letters after 1763. Absolute Frederick V (1746–66) and Christian VII (1766–1808) seemed to move towards tolerant government, though Struensee's fall from grace showed its limits. Michaelis and Herder thought of spacious midcentury Copenhagen, portrayed in copperplates in Hafnia Hodierna by the architect, Laurids de Thurah (1706–59), as the best home for enlightened German scholars and clergy; certainly better than Berlin under unpatriotic and Francophile Frederick the Great. Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock (1724–1803) was invited by King Frederick V to Copenhagen in 1751 to publish his Christian epic Messias (two volumes, 1755); Michaelis supported the official Danish voyage led by the surveyor and geographer, Karsten Niebuhr (1733–1815), to Egypt, Arabia, and Syria (1761–8).446 St Peter's, Copenhagen, became a synonym for a German circle of pastors and men of letters serving Danish cultural enlightenment, and one which opened with like-minded Danes to the Catholic south. The first

445

Hope, ‘Herder: The Lutheran Clergyman’, 132–3.

446

Michaelis to J. H. E. Bernstorff, 1 Jan. 1759, Eaton, German Influence in Danish Literature, 10; Herder, Werke, iv. 212, ix. 313, xvii, 107; Niebuhr, Beschreibung von Arabien (1772), i; Reisebeschreibung von Arabien und anderen umliegenden Länder (1774–8), 2 vols., English abridgement (Edinburgh, 1792).

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Danish student on the first state grant of its kind was the young Danish theologian and orientalist, Andreas Christian Hviid (1749–88), who spent fifteen months (1779–80) in Rome and Velletri. He befriended Cardinal Stefan Borgia who allowed him to read biblical manuscripts in the Museum Borgianum in Velletri, since it was still too early for a Protestant to gain access to the Vatican archive and library. In the preface to his diary (1777–80), Hviid wrote of the novelty of travel on public funds. They were a heavy burden like the luggage he carried with him, but he thought Italy the most delightful land which the sun had ever cast its rays upon.447 He was followed by a champion of modern liturgical reform, Jacob Georg Christian Adler (1756–1834; see below) who did similar work in Rome between December 1780 and April 1782. Adler wrote of his joy at walking in Rome—a large, glowing picture-book—after a hard day's work on the manuscripts. The other notable figure was the pioneer of the history of Christian doctrine, Friederich Münter (1761–1830), Balthasar Münter's son. Münter took a long tour (1781–7), which allowed him to taste modern German culture and Catholic reform. He visited Goethe and Herder at Weimar; and Michaelis, Walch, and their colleagues at Göttingen. During 1784, he became the first Protestant to be awarded a doctorate of philosophy at Catholic Fulda; mixed with Masonry and like-minded clergy in Joseph II's Vienna; and conversed with Scipione de' Ricci (1741–1810) at Pistoia. He spent a joyful 1785–6 in Rome enjoying Borgia's hospitality and reading many oriental manuscripts in Rome's private and public libraries.448 Sweden, too, exposed her Caroline church to modern culture for the first time in the reign of Gustavus III (1771–92): a king who held cultural views similar to those of his uncle, Frederick the Great, and Christian VII. Sweden's tiny Catholic minority was granted toleration in 1781, for which Gustavus was thanked publicly by Pope Pius VI. Senior clergy such as Archbishop Troil began to read the large literature of liturgical reform produced by enlightened Protestant and Catholic Germany, and Catholic reformers.449 But all of this happened at a time when prince and magistrates still performed a religious duty recognized by law: their Jus liturgicum was

447

Hviid, Udtog af en dagbog (1777–80), preface; L. Bobé (ed.), Rom og Danmark gennem tiderne (1935), i. 275–6, 280.

448

Ibid. 294–302.

449

Helander, Den liturgiska utvecklingen i Sverige under 1800–talet, i. 46–51.

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sacrosanct, and it could not be touched without infringing the law of the land. Sweden's clergy privileges (1723) in paragraph 15 had reemphasized the binding quality of the liturgy contained in Sweden's Caroline Church Law and Service-Book as one recognized by king and parliament. Clergy and parishioners in town and country were forbidden to make changes. A stream of diocesan circulars and directives in Sweden's Pietist and Moravian period c.1730–70 reminded parish clergy of the penalties for failure to observe the official order of service: particularly prayers used at baptism and marriage. At Copenhagen, the question of what happened in an absolute state to the king's religion if the substance of liturgy changed was hotly debated after 1770 in an environment which allowed the Moravians to settle at Christiansfeld. Was the liturgy really part of the law of the land, or was it really a matter for an established church and its clergy? How far could one really go if one wanted to modernize an authorized liturgy? Knowledge of church order and rites was still very poor (Ch. 8). A new, but imperfect, overview was supplied by Jacob Wilhelm Feuerlein (1689–1766), the senior professor of theology and general superintendent of Göttingen from 1737, in his Bibliotheca (1752; second edition 1768), which numbered some 352 church orders and rites.450 But Feuerlein failed to answer the question of whether liturgies were to be considered as part of local church order, or as part of the law of the land. Clarity was also lacking even in the national churches of Sweden-Finland and Denmark-Norway. An answer appeared first much later in liturgical commentaries by Schubert on Sweden (1820–1), and Christian Engelstoft (1805–89), the bishop of Fyn after 1852, on Denmark (1840).451 A prince's liturgical placet and imperfect liturgical knowledge lay at the heart of the troubles connected with reform in the early nineteenth century. But the modern shape of the liturgy did become a public issue, and it was linked closely with debate about the clergy office. The term ‘liturgy’, meaning a subject to be learnt by Lutheran ordinands, was first used in 1786 by the Hallesian theologian and educator,

450

Bibliotheca Symbolica Evangelica Lutherana (Göttingen, 1752). J. Meyer, ‘Geschichte der Göttinger theologischen Fakultät’, ZGNKG 42 (1937), 91; Sehling, Kirchenordnungen, i. xi; Reichert, Protestantischer Liturgik, 212, 398.

451

Schubert, Schwedens Kirchenverfassung und Unterrichtswesen ; Engelstoft, Liturgiens eller Alterbogens og Kirkeritualets Historie i Danmark (1840).

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August Hermann Niemeyer (1754–1828).452 The first modern local Lutheran rites were authorized in the Rhine Palatinate in 1783, and in Courland in 1785. Liturgical literature swelled to oceanic proportions by 1830. New liturgical magazines and journals appeared as religious censorship relaxed briefly (1780–1800).453 For the first time, method was applied to the parts and whole, and to the Ordinary and Proper of the order of service in town and country, by an apologetics designed to reconcile the Protestant church with a new patriotic middle-class culture. Feeling, or sentiment, was considered as important as reason and taste. Contemporaneous reform of the preaching office clearly led to a reform of the liturgy used on Sundays and weekdays. This, too, was the essence of Spalding's defence of the Lutheran office. Spalding wanted the Sunday liturgy to conform to the clergy office's main aim: to confront the Christian parishioner of his day with the thought of what he or she must do to be a Christian; to learn, via a strong and moving impression gained from the Sunday sermon, Christ's example and action (Wohlthaten), and their right application. In this light, Spalding reduced the Sunday liturgy to an essential order consisting of sermon, prayer formulae (confession of sins in particular), and the communion liturgy in which the action of grace was explained. Spalding also wanted clergy to look closely at hymns, since the hymn-book was often the source of what most parishioners thought about religion and worship; he worried about the way Pietists and Moravians had broken up Luther's liturgy, and ‘toyed’ with the religious feelings of parishioners (tändelnde Empfindungen). It was far more important to awaken faith by adhering to an order of service directed at what Christ is for us.454 Herder made much the same case, though he argued more strongly for liturgical continuity. Herder saw more clearly than most the significance of traditional liturgical forms and colour: parish congregations were on the whole visually minded and conservative; the Ordinary and Proper, sermon, church

452

Niemeyer, Entwurf der wesentlichen Pflichten christlicher Lehrer nach den verschiedenen Theilen ihres Amtes (Halle, 1786), 6, 351 passim ; K. B. List (ed.), Ordnung, Gebet und Handlungen bey dem öffentlichen Gottesdienste der Evangelisch-lutherischen Gemeinden in Kurpfalz (Heidelberg, 1783) known as the ‘Heidelberger Liturgie ’; K. D. Werth (ed.), Handlungen und Gebete beym öffentlichen Gottesdienst in den Herzogthümern Kurland und Semgallen (Mitau 1785; Königsberg, 1786, 1792).

453

‘Dezennium der Plane und Projekte’, H. B. Wagnitz (ed.), Liturgisches Journal (1805), vi. 86, cited Graff, Auflösung, ii. 51.

454

Spalding, Nutzbarkeit, 198–240; Lebensbeschreibung, 97–8.

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music, and congregational hymns were part of an organic whole from the ‘first to last note’.455 City clergy at Königsberg, Berlin, Copenhagen, and Stockholm pioneered liturgical reform. Ludwig Borowski (1740–1832), Kant's biographer, lived long enough to understand the way East Prussia's conservative, late sixteenthcentury rite was changed by waves of religious fashion. Revision was seen as necessary also in a city which had flowered culturally after the end of Russian occupation during the Seven Years' War, and where the Reformed liturgy used in the Reformed Parish Church (Borowski prompted Frederick William III to rename it the Burgkirche on 13 December 1817 to symbolize Union) had become very popular. The Reformed court chaplain, Wilhelm Crichton (1772–1805), descendant of a Scottish Presbyterian family, proposed liturgical reform in 1782. Though he pointed to the attachment of city parishioners to authorized hymn-books and liturgies apparent in the public row in Berlin following the proposed replacement of Porst's Pietist hymn-book (1708/13) by the modern hymn-book (1765) of Johann Samuel Diterich (1721–97), senior of St Mary, he emphasized the need to change East Prussian service and altar service-books nevertheless. They still contained too much obscure and crude Reformation language, and too many mystical terms.456 The Early Church possessed no uniform rite; Christian public worship developed: look, he argued, at the large variety of man-made rites in Protestant Germany since the Reformation; fifty years ago (thinking of König's edition) some 260 rites had been named. Königsberg's Reformed Directory accepted his arguments and proposed a new rite to the king in 1787. The outcome was Borowski's Preuβische Kirchenagende (1789). It carefully balanced modern prayer formulae with those contained in the rites of 1568 and 1744. Borowski cited the moderate words of the 1568 preface in his own rite, mindful of parochial conservatism and a conservative-minded King Frederick William II.457 Berlin-Brandenburg possessed no uniform rite after the Reformation; the liturgy was a matter for individual parishes, and up to parish

455

Herder, Cäcilia, Zerstreute Blätter, 5. Sammlung (Gotha, 1793), and Werke, xvi. 253–67.

456

Crichton, Über die Unverbesserlichkeit der Religion, des Gottesdienstes und der Liturgie freyer Christen (Halle, 1782), 86; the preface of the Danish translation (1785) saw it as an aid to Bastholm's proposed rite of the same year.

457

Borowski (ed.), Preuβische Kirchen-Agenda, die liturgischen Formulare der lutherischen Gemeinden in Preuβen enthaltend. Nebst eine Abhandlung über liturgische Formulare überhaupt und die preuβischen besonders (Königsberg, 1789); Wendland, Borowski, 59–60.

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clergy. However, Sack introduced debate in Berlin's Senior Lutheran consistory, notably shortly after the implementation of the Prussian Code (1794) with a memorandum (18 July 1798), pointing out that BrandenburgPrussia was far behind: public worship remained much the same as it was in the sixteenth century; he proposed a commission to collect liturgies in use, and to print them as a uniform service-book. Aware of the row over the revision of Porst's hymn-book, Sack wanted it to be gradually phased in. Sack also aired the view that differences in Lutheran and Reformed doctrine had lost weight: why maintain a confessional wall? Liturgical reform in Berlin thus implied a future amalgamation of Lutheran and Reformed worship. Sack unwittingly pointed out the path of things to come: either a workable fusion of Lutheran and Reformed church orders and rites, or a new confessionalism.458 A liturgical commission (July 1798—November 1806) produced a Reformed formulary (1798) for the celebration of communion. It was introduced first in Berlin's Reformed churches, since Lutheran clergy feared their own congregations might see it as novelty. At Easter 1800 it was given a trial run in Berlin cathedral. Clergy and King Frederick William III liked it. A common Lutheran and Reformed draft rite followed on 13 March 1804, but this raised the question which caused much future vexation: how to introduce a common liturgy to provinces of varied denominational colour which used sixteenth-century liturgies, and to conservative-minded parishioners? Also, did improvement of the liturgy and hymn-books improve churchgoing and faith? These questions divided Berlin's senior clergy. The collapse of the Prussian state, French occupation, the deaths of Spalding, Zöllner, and Teller in 1803–4, and the appearance of a Pietist and patriotic Berlin destroyed this fresh initiative. Scandinavian senior clergy were also active at this time. The nearby city of Königsberg, German liturgical reform in general was influential, though in Sweden's case, reform in turn influenced the shape of the Prussian 1822 liturgy.459 In Denmark, Christian Bastholm (1740–1819), a popular preacher in Copenhagen's citadel chapel (1772–7), senior court chaplain in 1778 and royal confessor (1783–1800), reacted strongly as a modern

458

Foerster, Entstehung der preuβischen Landeskirche, i. 105–10.

459

Helander, ‘Svenska kyrkohandboken 1811 och preussiska agendan 1822’, Från skilda tider: Studier tillägn Hjalmar Holmquist (1938), 225–46.

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homiletic reformer to learning by rote Luther's and Pontoppidan's catechisms, and to Denmark's mid-century episcopate who, he thought, frowned on fun and divided Danes into once- and twice-born Christians. Did one really have to flee the devices and desires of this world? Holberg's moderate churchmanship provided the necessary arguments to withstand Deism and free-thought represented by Struensee. Bastholm represented a return to Danish ways, and the promotion of the Danish language which followed. His art of preaching, Den geistlige Talekonst (1775), translated Anglican, French, and German homiletic reform into what he called, with Holberg in mind, the natural nobility of Danish. Copenhagen's modern theatre also stalked his pages: a preacher's worst offence was to bore his audience; much theatrical metaphor likening preaching method to the reasoned and imaginative use of wit, enticements, conceits, and warnings designed to suit character, age, rank, and education was employed. A preacher was compared to a great painter who with broad brush strokes and a deep perspective, painted the glories of heaven and horrors of hell. Words influenced emotions and morals; style related to diction: therefore a dry style for doctrinal matters, and a warm style for the devotional heart; provincial diction for provinces such as Jutland, Fyn and Norway, but high Danish for Copenhageners.460 Modern sermons, and by inference Denmark's authorized liturgy (1685), needed to suit a new middle-class cultured public. Bastholm's proposal ten years later to reform the Danish rite, Forslag til en forbedret Plan i den udvortes Gudstjeneste (1785; German 1786) was informed by Crichton and Borowski, and published at a time when he felt liturgical matters could be ventilated. Bastholm wrote in colloquial Danish to the ‘public’ to stop the drift away from church in town and country. He pointed to the lack of variety in official pericopes which were no longer appropriate; to four to five hymns still before the sermon. The authorized rite no longer matched the understanding and taste of a varied congregation. How many woke up only when they heard ‘Amen’? Bastholm cited the parishioner who spoke to his neighbour, or admired his dress; to another who constantly took a pinch of snuff, or dried his glasses; some sat, some leant on elbows, others put their hands behind their

460

‘Den jydske, fyhnske, nordske Udtale for Ex. kan være uden Anstød i Jylland, Fyhn, Norge; paa den Kiøbenhavnske Prædikestol derimod skurrer den’, Bastholm, Den geistlige Talekonst, 306–7.

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backs. All had lost a sense of the solemn (Højtidelighed). But, at Moravian Christiansfeld, some 600 knelt down quietly together at daily prayers.461 Why was this impossible in Danish parish churches, he asked? The answer lay in a mechanical liturgy, week in, week out. Did public concerts only offer the same programme, and was only the same dance danced at city balls? It was therefore necessary to change the Sunday liturgy, and to make more of a distinction between joy and sorrow at the major Christian festivals (joy at Advent, New Year, and Whitsun; solemnity in Holy Week, with no hymn-singing on Good Friday and official days of intercession). The order of service should be decent: all should stand when singing hymns, sit during the reading of Scripture, and kneel at prayers. Parish communion was a solemn act: it was important to ensure that no clatter sounded when non-communicants left, or when communicants approached the altar. Wednesday and Friday sermons in Copenhagen, and early monthly Mattins in the country should be replaced with a communion service; general public confession was better than the customary practice of private confession, during which the poor had to wait while those of higher social standing (Anseeligere) confessed. The main Sunday morning service should reflect antiphonal worship: (1) a collect; (2) a hymn; (3) the Ten Commandments; (4) two or three verses of a short hymn of praise; (5) Epistle; (6) a half-hour sermon; (7) shortened official prayers and the Lord's Prayer—if parish communion; (8) a communion hymn and parish communion; and (9) the blessing.462 Bastholm's liturgical proposal might have passed by as one of many, had it not been greeted by a public storm of protest in newspapers and a very large number of pamphlets, the like of which Copenhageners had never experienced before.463 Balle published a soothing pastoral letter, ‘Way to Honesty’ (2 Corinthians 4: 1–2), to calm his Sjælland clergy.464 Times were changing. Balle mentioned his experience as a student (1766–9) of Sunday morning parish communion in St Thomas, Leipzig: notably how the altar boys, in white surplices with green collars, knelt on the floor by the altar while the officiating clergyman consecrated bread and wine, and held a little

461

Bastholm, Forslag, 23.

462

Ibid. 30–1, 45 passim, 75–85; Neiiendam, Bastholm, 255–6.

463

The collection, Liturgica (8 vols.), in the Royal Library, Copenhagen, contains 97 octavo pamphlets plus press clippings.

464

Balle, Vei til Hæderlighed for Geistlige anviist i trende Præstevielses- Taler over 2 Cor. 4: 1–2, og anbefalet i en Pastoral-Skrivelse efter Tidernes Leilighed (1785), in Liturgica, 3, no. 29.

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white napkin underneath each communicant's mouth to prevent spillage of communion wine. Did his clergy find that rite in the Danish church? It was time to abandon chasubles; the ringing of church bells in thundery weather, carrying wooden crosses before coffins, letting choirboys sing hymns and ditties outside private homes, and the giving of fees for private confession (Skrifte-penge) to the parish clergyman. Like Sack in Berlin apropos Brandenburg-Prussia, he asked, ‘Why should Denmark always be the last to reform?’ On the other hand, low attendance in church was not due to a late seventeenth-century Danish rite—look at the Anglican Book of Common Prayer! Why did one only have to sing happy hymns—why not Luther's Aus tiefster Not? His clergy should remember that parishioners loved the customary in worship: rural parishioners, he noted from his visitations, seemed to be content to read prayers in their hymn-books, or in Fresenius's communion book. Language and notions might change in the course of a century, but he was not discouraged if things remained as they were. Bastholm was first able to publish a reply in 1791, and his proposal was promptly forbidden in Sweden. Liturgical reform was as difficult in Slesvig/Schleswig and Holsten/Holstein. Adler, appointed, on his return from Italy, professor of Syrian at Copenhagen (1783), and pastor of Christianshavn (1785), published a rite (Agendenbuch) in the latter year. It served as a model for liturgical revision in the duchies, which he introduced after his appointment as general superintendent in 1792. A uniform liturgy had become a public issue following the amalgamation of royal and ducal territory in 1779 on the extinction of the Sonderburg-Glückstadt line. Six different rites were in use up to this date; commissions had been appointed after 1758. Adler worried about the storm Bastholm caused. Should a new rite be introduced as a binding norm, or simply as a guide (Anweisung)? His Kirchen-Agende (1798), published simultaneously in German and Danish, was of a similar colour to Bastholm's.465 In his preface, Adler distinguished between the Sunday morning service with and without communion. Adler's introit left out salutation, collects, and Epistle; on the other hand he introduced six series of pericopes, several transcriptions of the Lord's Prayer, fifteen variants of the traditional blessing,

465

Commentary: Reichert, ‘Untersuchungen zur adlerschen Agende von 1798’, SSHKG 36 (1980), 27–60, SSHKG 38 (1982), 7–48; H. J. Ramm et al (eds.) Kirche im Umbruch, SHKG 5 (Neumünster, 1989), 39–42.

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ten communion rubrics (most left out the words of institution), eight for baptism, and he reduced congregational hymn-singing. Adler's was a liturgical skeleton which distinguished between the the essential and what he called Religion zweiter Hand in public worship. It was up to local clergy and parishioners to interpret his rite. Reaction was as swift and widespread as in Copenhagen. A mass of anonymous pamphlets written by Slesvig parish clergy (many approved—to great royal displeasure) appeared; parishioners in town and country became unruly. There was much upset about the transcriptions of the Lord's Prayer, and alternative blessings. Use of troops was even contemplated—a foretaste of events in Prussian Silesia in 1835. On 26 January 1798, a royal patent (signed personally by Christian VII) tried to quell the idea that a new religious doctrine was being introduced; parishioners were allowed to use the old rubrics for baptism and marriage, and they were told not to worry about the alternative series of pericopes for Epistle and Gospel. This had little effect. On 23 February, Christian VII allowed old liturgical usage to continue. Adler's rite gathered dust. In Sweden, a widening gap between authorized liturgy and parish practice became visible at the time Bælter wrote his history of the Swedish liturgy. Theses were written; directives from Stockholm and cathedral chapters, reminding parish clergy to observe the rubric, multiplied. Under Gustavus III, a king with an eye for modern culture and its aesthetics (he turned the old castle chapel of Gripsholm into a theatre), the liturgy finally became a public issue. Gustavus III began to discuss the matter with his bishops at a time of difficult relations with his parliament (1788–9). He had found worship in Copenhagen much too simple (there were no liturgical chants); he therefore approved of Bastholm's attempted revision despite its official ban in Sweden, and mentioned his dislike of the simple Reformed congregational service, his approval of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, and especially Anglican episcopacy.466 Stockholmers, like Copenhageners, also began to take an interest. Several new literary and pastoral journals debated liturgical questions. Catalogues of book auctions at this time show that clergy bought much on the shape of the liturgy; in particular new Protestant German liturgical proposals such as those published at Erlangen by Georg Friedrich Seiler (1733–1807), a theology

466

Helander, Den liturgiska utvecklingen i Sverige under 1800 —talet, i. 43–6.

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professor at modern Erlangen since 1770: his modern prayers (Gebete für Studierende, 1780), his proposed modern liturgy (Versuch einer christlich-evangelisch Liturgie, 1782), those in his two-volume Liturgisches Magazin (1784–6), and his collection of liturgical formularies (1787–8), and the contemporaneous authorized liturgies of the Rhine Palatinate (1783), and Courland (1785). They also looked south to Catholic liturgical reform: to the first mass in German (1786) written by the Benedictine, Maria Werkmeister (1745–1823), for Stuttgart's Catholic court chapel, to his liturgical journal, and to the recommendations for a new Breviary ventilated at the diocesan synod of Pistoia (September 1786) and meeting of Tuscan bishops at the Pitti palace in Florence (April–June 1787). Several senior clergy led by Archbishop Troil (he printed, at his own expense, a Proposal in 1793) called for the modernization of the Swedish liturgy's language and expression: Swedification of the Latin Gloria and Credo, abolition of the Greek Kyrie eleison and Hebrew Hosianna, introduction of a modern Lord's Prayer and blessing, and abandonment of old language concerning the devil and his works.467 Revision took place after 1793: chapters sent in comments (1792), and three royal commissions (1793, 1798, 1799) prepared drafts of a new service-book which finally appeared in 1811. This work took account of Swedish as a developing language, introduced more gentle formulae as the times seemed to demand, excised ‘foreign’ words such as Zebaoth, Hosianna, and Hallelujah, and modernized the language of official prayers for ministers and parliament, prayers in wartime, the blessing of the fruits of the earth, or the prevention of infectious diseases. Prayers offered against the heathen Turk disappeared. Choice of hymns and Bible readings, at a time when revision of the Caroline Bible was contemplated, was left to the parish clergyman. Sweden's new liturgy was introduced with a short history of the Swedish rite by Archbishop Lindblom on Advent Sunday, 1811. It reflected not only changing times, but also constitutional rupture represented by the year 1809. The new liturgy began the separation of liturgy from law (Sweden's Church Law contained liturgical

467

Ibid. 46–8; O. Jordan. ‘Georg Friedrich Seiler—Der Liturgiker der deutschen Aufklärung’, JLH 14 (1969), 1–62; Chadwick, Popes and European Revolution, 424–42; Troil in the preface to his Forslag till Kyrkohandbok (1793), wanted to make the liturgy's language gentler as the times demanded (‘mildra ordasätten och lämpa språket, efter som tiden nu kräfver’), Helander, 104 passim.

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rubrics), and broke away from the pessimistic Mosaic language and demonology contained in the Caroline servicebook. The new baptismal rubric contained only nine pages compared with twenty-seven previously. Exorcism, and baptism of Jews and Muslims was abolished. The Swedish word for the main Sunday service (Högmässa) reflected Sunday worship without communion for the first time; private confession was replaced by a general confession. The 1811 liturgy contained a much simpler ordering of fifteen chapters, but it was more complete in listing observances (rubrics for confirmation, public confession, ordination, consecration of new churches, and the introduction of bishops and new patrons). It was a moderate statement in a climate of fundamental political change and a conservative parish order. Lindblom followed the advice of his diocesan chapters (1792) to be extremely careful with its introduction to parishes. He was also mindful of a growing gap between a small new educated and enlightened middleclass public in Stockholm and southern coastal harbour towns, and Sweden's rural parish majority.468

II. Suitable Liturgical Music? Music supporting the liturgy, and chanting were much reduced as well. In 1800, portions which were still chanted consisted of the collect with versicle and salutation (only very rarely the preface), the Lord's Prayer, and the words of institution. The singing of the Ordinary was replaced with a congregational hymn. The number of saints' days and weekday services was also pruned (Ch. 10). Urban public concerts started to replace music in church. The Latin mass structure, Gregorian chant, also the new concert-type church music of Bach's time atrophied. The abolition of fixed pericopes put an end to the De tempore cantata. Public worship was reduced to a central sermon, common prayer, and a hymn or two in a slow chorale rhythm. Handel (his oratorios) and Palestrina started to be cultivated by many urban private circles and choral societies: Herder translated the text of the Messiah, and introduced the first German performance at Weimar in 1780; at Berlin, the Berlinische Musikalische Zeitung invited Berliners to subscribe

468

Ibid. 347; Schubert, i. 30–1. Schubert noted that Sweden's 1693 service-book in Finnish was used until Advent Sunday 1817 by Stockholm's Finnish congregation and those on the west Bothnian coast, ibid. i. 27–8.

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to an edition of Handel's oratorios in 1805.469 In keeping with the solemn and elevated (erhaben), loud instruments were shunned because ‘trumpets, timpani, and fiddles could not induce feelings of devotion’ as one commentator put it. The organ with a ‘douce’ tone was used to induce a devotional mood; homophonic, sustained cadences with markings ‘4/4 moderato’, ‘andante’, and ‘adagio’ accompanied a sermon expressing general religious thoughts and sentiments. Everything became exceedingly slow, and suited to churches where liturgical music played a minor role. Burney noted (1772), at Sunday worship in Bremen's Lutheran cathedral, the organist who played a hymn tune in the ‘true dragging style’ of Thomas Sternhold (d. 1549) and John Hopkins (d. 1570), and how the congregation sang loudly and dismally. He went to the post office to post a letter, returned out of curiosity, and found the congregation still singing the same hymn: duration was worse, he thought, than ‘that of a Scots hymn, in the time of Charles I’. Bremen cathedral's cantor was eventually emboldened to ask a similar question in the Mainz musical periodical Cäcilia (1825): ‘Should one wear a nightcap to listen to [such] music?’.470 One melody was often used for a variety of texts: Leipzig's hymn-book (1800) supplied ninety-one texts for the melody ‘Wer nun der lieben Gott lässt walten’. Modern hymn texts were not only prosy as might be expected in the enlightened last three decades of the eighteenth century, but also full of sentiment, by turns lyrical and pathetic: touching. Biblical texts, the Psalms especially, were favoured for a slow congregational chorale which was usually sung very poorly, as Frederick William III found to his cost when he tried to impose his choral liturgy (1817, 1822) on Prussian country parishes. Those musicians who were employed to accompany the liturgy—the cantor, organist, town and court musicians, and grammar school choir—also went into decline. The cantor, the official composer and leader of church music and the congregation, lost his authority. There was no longer a sense of writing for the occasion; of linking official duties with art as in Bach's time. Secular musical composition, art in its own right, was becoming more important with the rise of the theatre and public concert. Cantors and organists were no longer listed in their own right in the Prussian Code (1794), but

469

Hope, ‘Herder: The Lutheran Clergyman’, 130.

470

Burney, Musical Tour, ii. 222–3; Cäcilia (1825), ii. 141, cited Blume, Protestant Church Music, 331.

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lumped together with vergers as lower temporal church officers (Tit. 11, §§ 556–67). By 1805, the word cantor had become almost a term of abuse. The same was true of the organist. The craft of writing for the liturgy and hymns was replaced by solo playing. Burney thought the organ voluntary on Sunday morning in Augsburg cathedral (August 1772) typical of ‘the rage for crude, equivocal, and affected modulation, which now prevails generally all over Germany, renders voluntary playing so unnatural, that it is a perpetual disappointment and torture to the ear’.471 Town musicians and church choirs suffered competition from an educated public who paid for ‘free’ musicians playing in amateur concerts and theatres. Sacred music began to be sung outside church by male or mixed choruses, or choral societies (Singvereine). The town grammar school choir's curriculum also shifted away from work for the church; this was apparent in the rows about the employment of choristers in solo parts and as members of the chorus in Dresden's and Weimar's opera in the late eighteenth century. The church choir was no longer an accepted part of social life, though the Kurrende continued in musical Saxony and Thuringia. Modern citizens began to think of choirboys singing ditties and hymns in the streets as old-fashioned and as begging: it was also inhumane for them to be out in all kinds of weather, and to have to sing at funerals or even at public executions. Professional singers such as those in Berlin's Singakademie replaced church choirs. Its statutes (1816) defined ‘the Singakademie [as] an artistic society for the cultivation of serious and sacred music, especially for music in contrapuntal style’.472 Choral music became an end in itself: it was no longer there to support the liturgy of public worship.

III. A Modern Sermon? This was a change driven by a new emphasis on the central place of the sermon as a well-delivered moral exhortation in the Sunday liturgy. 473 Biblical imagery, especially the Old Testament Mosaic discipline, was seen as out of keeping with times which preferred milder language. Preaching was situational; eloquence (Beredsamkeit) replaced Pietas; there was less of salvation (Heil ), and more of the

471

Burney, ii. 42.

472

Blume, 322.

473

Aner wisely warns us to see less reason and more ethics and personal disposition in this modern homiletics, Theologie der Lessingzeit, 151.

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common good (Wohl ). The parish clergyman served others, and brought the church into homes. On the other hand, this clergy generation defended established churches: salvation was never reduced to simple propriety. Luther's ordo salutis, particularly his emphasis on atonement and satisfaction as the chief elements in justification, was replaced by inner peace (Ruhe), an aspect of personal disposition (Gemüt ). St Augustine was too choleric; he became virtually the most hated representative of the Early Church for a clergy generation who turned from sinfulness and guilt towards God, to preaching an individual's own worth which returned to the old understanding of man fashioned in God's image, Gottebenbildlichkeit, and man who now seemed to master Nature.474 The age of De servo arbitrio was past; mankind was capable of fashioning his own happiness (Glückseligkeit ). Christian righteousness and bliss were no longer dependent on the creative act of divine grace: human virtue (Tugend ) was pleasing to God. There was thus less of the speculative—of the Trinity and two natures of Christ—and more of ‘Christ for me’, contained in the pastoral Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–8), in the combination of faith and patient works (James 1–3), and the complete Pauline armour of a Christian (Ephesians 5).475 In this Christology, Christ played less the role of mediator both man and God. Jesus with a human face, Jesus the wise teacher fighting superstition, Jesus's work and death as a model for the fulfilment of moral obligations and a striving after ethical perfection replaced the soteriological and sacramental images of Redeemer and Saviour. Mission had now a practical welfare purpose made possible by a new civic culture of towns after 1770 in which the values of Christian stewardship (Haushalter) and economy (Wirtschaftlichkeit) became primary values. A distinction was made between direct worship (prayers in church and home), and indirect worship meaning moral teaching (Dienst) in the home. A need to bridge the gap between masters and servants became apparent: domestics were now seen as Mitmenschen (Nebenchristen). Teller's printed Berlin sermons on family piety became very popular.476 On the other hand, sermons fashioned to suit the new rite of Harvest Thanksgiving could be seen as going too far. In the third edition of

474

Ibid. 162.

475

Spalding, Nutzbarkeit, 231, 238.

476

Teller, Predigten von der häuslichen Frömmigkeit, 2nd edn. (Berlin, 1773); R. Krause, Predigt der späten deutschen Aufklärung, 91 passim.

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his Nutzbarkeit (1791), Spalding criticized sermons which dealt almost exclusively with economic and political matters: they were no doubt well intentioned, but did not belong to the pulpit. Tradition in the shape of Luther's Haustafel was still strong; even Teller remained insistent on the practice of regular daily morning and evening prayers.477 Authorities looked laxer in a new uncensored climate, but few clergy strayed from pericopes which acted as calendars for countrymen in rural parishes. Christian order needed to be upheld, especially in revolutionary times. Equality was dangerous. One of the leading modern homiletic reformers, Johann Friedrich Jerusalem (1709–89), abbot of Riddagshausen since 1752, republished a sermon of his (1745) in 1788, the year before his death, emphasizing that Christian religion was not so much concerned with the ‘constitution of civil society’, as with the promotion of human perfection. Obedience to Christian princes (Ephesians 6: 9) remained essential.478 The same tone was preached by Saxon clergy: notably, Johann Zacharias Hahn (1768–1826), at St Peter's, Leipzig, in his Politische Predigten (1797) which he modelled on Spalding, and Johann Friedrich Krause (vicar of Reichenbach in the Vogtland) in his well-publicized sermons of the same year on the laws of the land.479

IV. Renovation of Churches The parish church began to reflect a simpler liturgy and moral preaching. Herrnhut had introduced the simple, white, and light chapel. In parish churches, notably city churches, old inventory was cleared out and walls were whitewashed in a passionate campaign for ‘renovation’ at a time when new urban sanitary legislation forbade burial in church and ordered interment in graveyards. As a result we have little idea of the inventory in churches before 1770. Some art historians have seen this as a far greater loss than that of the Reformation Bildersturm, and the ravages of weather, fires, and wartime plunder thereafter. What happened to Riga cathedral between 1782 and 1786 is instructive. The medieval fresco of the Day of Judgement painted on the vaulting above the altar was white-washed

477

Ibid. 27, 100.

478

Ibid. 112.

479

J. F. Krause, Predigten über einige Landesgesetze nebst verscheidenen andern Kanzelvorträgen, meistens bei besonderen Veranlassungen (Leipzig, 1797); Krause, 113, 127 passim.

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over three times; some seventy heraldic shields (fourteen only were returned) and epitaphs were taken down from walls. Stone epitaphs such as the fourteenth-century grave of Bishop Meinhard were broken up, and the stone put in the cathedral's burial vaults. Riga cathedral chapter's protocol recorded public thanks for renovation carried out to the satisfaction of the public (‘die zur Zufriedenheit des Publici besorgte Ausweitzung und Reparatur’).480 The same happened to the medieval frescos, epitaphs, and other inventory of Reval's cathedral and Reval's other city churches. In Sweden, the Anglican clergyman, Edward Clarke (1769–1822), Thomas Malthus's (1766–1834) companion on their Scandinavian tour (1799), noticed that even on the remote northern Bothnian coast, in the parish church of St Peter in Gamle Luleå, images from Sweden's Catholic period had been taken down and collected in a corner of the church.481 In Denmark, inventory suffered similar treatment in Roskilde and Aarhus cathedrals. The famous painting of Aarhus cathedral by Christen Købke, dated September 1829, shows a cathedral devoid of its medieval furnishing, and dominated by its massive whitewashed medieval masonry. All of this was not merely a matter of taste. Maintenance and costs remained an insoluble problem in a Lutheran churchscape lacking endowment, and run by patrons who wished to spend cash elsewhere. It was estimated in 1790 that the minimum cost of repairing the decaying walls, roof, windows, and timbers of Ribe cathedral would be c.10,000 rixdaler. This caused much anguish for Ribe's bishop, Stephan Middelboe (1786–1811)—the last Norwegian in office in Denmark and a man noted for his deep concern to improve the welfare of his clergy—and his chapter, given a parlous annual income of only 1,000 rixdaler, and authorities in Copenhagen who insisted on the repair of one of Denmark's most beautiful Gothic churches. Ribe's diocesan authorities were told to sell diocesan property, and secure the rest from voluntary collections. This was hurriedly done, the necessary repairs were carried out, but on completion Ribe's citizens complained about

480

W. Neumann, Der Dom zu St Marien in Riga (Riga, 1912). 58–9; A. Buchholtz, Denkmäler im Dom zu Riga (Riga, 1885), 2 passim ; H. Löffler, Die Grabsteine, Grabmäler und Epitaphien in den Kirchen Alt-Livlands vom 13–18. Jahrhundert (Riga, 1929), 4–7.

481

E. Clarke, Travels in Various Countries of Europe, Asia and Africa, Pt. III/1. Scandinavia (London, 1819), 258–63. They noted the four hourglasses on the pulpit which turned together. 40; Malthus, Travel Diaries, 78.

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poor restoration.482 It was far worse with medieval parish churches and patrons. Annual maintenance of fabric and inventory by parish and patron called for by Danske Lov (2. 22. 6) remained more or less impossible. Cost was a massive problem. Congregations also proved difficult. When Skagen parish church became too dangerous to worship in (1795) as a result of shifting sand dunes and the weather, diocesan authorities decided to pull it down—renovation (1,200 rixdaler) was too costly—and renovate a chapel in the town for worship. Parishioners objected; the question of what to do dragged on until 1798, when the tower was kept as a landmark for seafarers, and the church was sold (1,200 rixdaler!) for demolition. In the decade 1784–94 at least thirty Danish Romanesque parish churches lost lead roofs. Another major reason for this was that Danske Lov contained nothing about the style in which a church was built, or about the maintenance of fabric and inventory. Pietism's indifference to parish churches and inventory such as vestments had been unhelpful too. A sense of proper regulation only began to creep in after 1800. Bishop Balle in a directive of 19 November 1802 tried to strengthen the arm of rural deans for use against recalcitrant patrons; a Copenhagen chancellery directive (1814) to county officers (Amtmand) gave them powers to force negligent patrons to put their parish churches in order within three weeks. However, it took until 1848 for Copenhagen to provide the first guidelines on restoring parish churches in keeping with their style.483 A sounder sense of the past in parish church architecture began after 1868. In divided Protestant Germany, nothing happened at all before 1860, when a major public debate about style and maintenance produced the first common guidelines.

V. End of the Established Church: Denmark-(Norway), Sweden(Finland), Prussia A new public debate about the relationship of the clergy office and liturgy to modern culture put an end to the authority of established Reformation churches. Rulers such as Christian VII, Gustav III, Frederick the Great, even his more pious successor, Frederick William II, were less interested in establishment than in a church run

482

Koch, Oplysningstiden i den danske kirke, 346–7, 349; C. I. Scharling (ed.), Ribe bispesæde 948–1948 (1948), 16, 274.

483

Koch, ‘Gudstjenesten i den danske kirke efter reformationen’, KhS (1902–3), 49, 52–4.

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as a department of state by senior civil servants trained in modern public law. In Denmark, Christian VI's Inspection Committee (1737) was abolished in 1791. Its business, except finance (tithe) and mission, was transferred a few years later (1800–48) to the first department in the chancellery. This followed two decades of debate on church and state. Christian Ditlev Hedegaard (1700–81), a jurist trained in Halle and Jena (1716–19) by Thomasius and Buddeus, modernized and publicized the Helstat's civil, criminal, and canon law. His twovolume commentary on the second book of Danske Lov—Den Danske Kirke, eller Geistlige Ret (1775)—placed Danish canon law firmly within modern public law. Denmark's established church was a contractual society (college) of laypersons exercising freedom of religious conscience, whose main public aim was to honour and praise God publicly in a state which had abandoned Kirchenregiment, but retained its rights to defend its Reformation church and pronounce upon the shape of its liturgy, since it looked after the rights and welfare of its citizens in the interests of civil peace. Other faiths remained tolerated faiths. As a Societas Aequalis, the church could not punish, but it could exclude dishonourable members.484 It was important to know the history of the Danish church. Ussing's six-volume ‘constitutional’ history (1786–9) was similar, though Ussing was clearly worried about good royal government of a church whose aim was the eternal salvation of its members (he still used the term Kirke-Stat) in this time of revolutionary change. Was it really necessary to have so many sworn and written oaths?485 Where did the apostolic Early Church, redefined by modern public law, fit in? If the church needed the strong arm of the state (the king had a say in the appointment and dismissal of clergy, in liturgy, and in charity), the king was not free to change what the church taught. Clergy were responsible for church legislation. Ussing still divided clergy as teachers from the congregation, but he added that clergy were not to overrule or show disrespect for parochial advice. On the other hand, the Bible spoke about obedience to authority. Rights of monarchy meant that it was difficult to prevent the prince meddling in an established church, but a firm rule was to hinder and forbid anything which could damage a modern state's welfare and security. Ussing mentioned for comparison the Anglican Thirty-Nine Articles

484

Glædemark, Kirkeforfatningsspørgsmålet, 23–4.

485

Ussing, Kirkeforfatningen (1789), iv/2. 667 passim.

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and Test Act which excluded Nonconformists, and tolerant Berlin (before Wöllner), adding that Berlin was only a city, and it possessed a good police. Religious toleration was a useful principle, but Ussing listed as persons without civil rights: free-thinkers, Deists, atheists, naturalists, indifferentists, and materialists, since they criticized Scripture as God's Word, and took no oaths to the law of the land (Danske Lov 2.1.1 and 6.1.4).486 These were arguments which took note of the way contents and language of Danish royal legislation had been changed by observance since 1660: excommunication (Bandsættelse) had fallen into disuse by 1740; legislation had eased the obligation to use the services of the parish clergyman (Sognebåndet, 1741) and annual parish communion (1756, 1790). The use of exorcism at baptism was abolished in 1783 (proposals by bishops for the end of anachronistic public penance were also ventilated in 1790), and the rite of betrothal (Trolovelse) was officially forbidden in 1799.487 Copenhagen University's new statutes of 7 May 1788 also reflected changing assumptions.488 Their revision was inspired by an Oldenburger, Hector Frederick Janson (1737–1808), professor of theology (1774–89) and vicechancellor (1786–9)—thereafter bishop of Aarhus. Trained by Göttingen's theology and public law, Janson entered Danish service as a tutor to the Reventlow family in Holstein and Copenhagen, became a distinguished popular preacher like Bastholm, and a leading member of royal commissions appointed to initiate school and university reform. Though he upheld scriptural authority as an anti-Deist, he stressed that human reason and morals could help an understanding of revealed religion (Compendium theologiae naturalis, 1778), and that a guiding principle in a modern university curriculum was the training of professional public servants; hence the importance of developing understanding rather than memory. In contrast to the statutes of 1732, Janson put emphasis on natural history, maths, and physics (a way of rooting out superstition) as useful subjects of study to promote the common good. Official Pietism was cast aside; the link between university and the bishopric of Sjælland via the third professorship in theology was weakened. Janson's theology curriculum tried to suit the times. Ordinands should know Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, the history of

486

Ibid. (1786), i. 113, 228–9, 469 passim ; Glædemark, 24–6.

487

Ibid. 26–7; Koch, ‘Gudstjenesten’, 202–3; Koch, Oplysningstiden, 332–3.

488

Grane (ed.), Københavns Universitet, v. 262–4, 285–8.

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the Early Church to the Reformation, and the articles of the faith and constitution of the Danish church. Professors were also forbidden the widespread customary practice of extra teaching in return for private payment. A pastoral postgraduate training in preaching and catechization (also instruction on church finance and maintenance of vicarage and parish church) was introduced. Bastholm, inspired by Spalding, also published at this time Short Thoughts for further Reflection on the Clergy (1794).489 Six chapters posed as questions: ‘What knowledge was necessary for a clergyman considered now as a Folkelærer?’ ‘Were the clergy a useful and necessary estate?’ (a topical issue raised by a flood of critical pamphlets and books). ‘Were stipends too large?’ ‘Was it necessary to have titles and other marks of distinction?’ ‘Did clergy need to wear clerical dress?’ ‘Was ordination procedure necessary, useful, and could it be improved on?’ Like Janson, Bastholm pointed to the need for an improved knowledge of the biblical languages and modern, practical subjects (physics helped to stamp out parish superstition). Bastholm distinguished between town and country: in towns, clergy needed a thorough theological and practical training; in rural parishes a general education was more appropriate: as reasonable and practical men (Almeennyttige) who knew the Sermon on the Mount, they could make rural parishioners ‘more virtuous and happier’ (dydige og lykkelige) at a time when wise and beneficent government had done much to emancipate them. Clerical dress and titles mattered still to Bastholm and his fellow royalist clergy: parish clergy supervised as did other public servants; cassocks were not hallowed—they impressed. Bastholm acknowledged the inequalities of stipends—a good country parish might bring in 600 rixdaler—but it was often forgotten how large a clergy family's expenditure in the shape of the cost of ordination, a royal tax (Embedskat), other taxes, provision for a widow's pension, and household expenses (children, their clothes and education, books, heating and upkeep of the vicarage), and farm expenditure were. Parish clergy and wives often used up all their capital. Bastholm ventured a little optimism in the sense of a practical pastorate returning to a practical Early Church. Münter's pioneering two-volume history of Christian doctrine, Haandbog i den ældste christelige Kirkes Dogmehistorie (1801–4; German translation 1802–6), lectures delivered in the previous decade, were

489

Bastholm, Korte Tanker til nærmere Eftertanke over Den geistlige Stand (1794).

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a typical expression of this spirit. Though above the heads of his students (Münter was also a miserable lecturer) it defined, with new public law in mind, the Christian church as a large religious organization comparable to the state. However, Christianity was universal, in contrast to the Judaic ‘national’ religion. Though Münter's account was theoretical rather than historical (it was a poor account of the Christian church's organization and development since the Early Church, and partisan: everything before the Enlightenment was a corruption of apostolic times), Münter equated Christian universality in his age with the universal appeal of a practical-minded pastoral Enlightenment. Münter felt that it was now possible, in 1800, to return to the simplicity of the Apostles: there was hope yet. In an introduction to lectures on pastoral theology (1797), Münter even ventilated the idea that criticism of the Christian church had never been dangerous in states where superstition had not suppressed religious truth. These were bold words in an absolute monarchy. Religious censorship continued in the shape of the royal confessor or another court chaplain alternating with one of Copenhagen's parish clergy. It remained questionable how far one could go. Struensee's public execution, the public row over Bastholm's proposed modern liturgy, and the appearance of a new term of official abuse, juridiske Præster, for clergy who wanted to know more about how church and state functioned, showed the dangers of frankness. A radical Danish press in the 1790s which was open to radical French thought and revolutionary ideas was snuffed out by a Draconian Press Law (1799) invoking wording of Danske Lov (2. 1). Anyone (§ 5) who published anything which aimed to subvert Christian teaching on God's existence, or the immortality of the soul, or in print censured and insulted Christian doctrine, was to be exiled for three to ten years. Tolerated denominations were also to enjoy royal protection of their worship (‘skal nyde beskærmelse i dered gudsdyrkelse’): blasphemy was punished with a diet of bread and water for four to fourteen days. Further paragraphs (§§ 10–14) safeguarded officials (including clergy as public servants) from criticism construed as abuse. These were legal paragraphs which tried subsequently to muzzle awakened critics such as Hauge and Grundtvig (Ch. 15). The question remained whether an established church could cope if the legal apparatus of royal protection disappeared.490

490

‘Juridiske Præster’, Ussing, Kirkeforfatningen, i, preface; Glædemark, 519; Koch, Oplysningstiden, 253–5, 265, 367–8; KLN, s.v. ‘Censur, kirkelig’, and ‘Trykkefrihed’.

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Relaxation of statutory control took place in Sweden at this time too, though bishops and clergy in parliament remained a strong corporate interest versus court and state after the abolition of religious censorship in 1766. Political and cultural advance had a little further to go than in Denmark. Luther's homiletic writings were first translated and published at Stockholm in 1750; Locke's Letters on Toleration in 1793. But new economic thinking, land reform, and an awareness of the church as part of public law grew after 1760. Sweden's established Caroline church opened to public view in the decade which followed Sweden's toleration act, Religionsfrihetslag (1781). Swedish Lutheranism lost its congruence with Swedish citizenship, however limited religious liberty was in practice. Freedom of religious conscience and the free exercise of public worship was granted to members of other Christian persuasions who settled in Sweden. In practice, religious freedom meant use of one's own clergy, church-building, the end of an obligation to use and pay for services of Lutheran parish clergy (burial and bells, though, remained a Lutheran right), and the right to buy property. On the other hand, the right to stand for parliament was only extended to the Reformed, and no other faith was allowed to introduce public schools. Catholic proselytism was forbidden at a time when the Jesuit Order was still feared officially. Protestant dissenters remained suspect and subject to banishment. Jews were granted a separate Judereglement in 1782: synagogues could be built only in places where they had been allowed to settle: Stockholm, Gothenburg, Nörrköping, and later Karlskrona, and they were forbidden to marry or employ Gentiles, buy land, or form craft guilds. Moravian colonies in Stockholm and Gothenburg were freed from the Conventicle Act (1726)—in force until 1858—in acts of 1783 and 1785.491 If Religionsfrihetslag and its subsequent legislative offspring represented the first real step away from the established Caroline church, toleration remained as suspect as in the church in Denmark and Brandenburg-Prussia. Enlightened Gustavus III began to worry about disturbance of the peace; the costly Russian War (1788–90), the querulous parliament of 1789, and France in 1789 worried ministers who managed Crown Prince Gustavus Adolphus's

491

Palmqvist, Die römisch-katholische Kirche in Schweden nach 1781, i; Levin, Religionstvång och religionslagstiftning ; H. Valentin, Judarnas historia i Sverige, (1924) id., Judarna i Sverige (1964).

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minority (1792–6), and it worried their ward subsequently as Gustavus Adolphus IV (1792–1809). Senior clergy complained in parliament once again about the way parish clergy took liberties in the pulpit. Gustavus III saw doctrine at risk, and delivered a severe rebuke on 20 November 1786: cathedral chapters were ordered to watch closely that clergy preached plainly, and in accordance with the Bible and Sweden's religious articles, and were ordered to reprimand severely (med strängaste näpst) clergy who failed to observe this.492 Gustavus Adolphus IV was more like Frederick William III: warmly religious and interested in upholding the church of his forefathers, he worried much about the spread of French Jacobinism, and Napoleonic ideas such as he experienced during his tour of Baden and south-western Germany (1803–5). His reign was a damage-limitation exercise. He warned his cathedral chapters, on 27 December 1799, that new ideas from abroad could infect the minds of the young in matters of faith. In their sermons parish clergy should stick to Sweden's articles of faith, and avoid commentary on civil morality using the arguments of modern philosophy. He also ordered no changes to be made to the Caroline service-book, which put an end to revision by the 1793 commission and Archbishop Troil. The clock turned back to the time of the disciplinary arm of Sweden's cathedral chapters in 1687, and reform had to wait until constitutional crisis in 1809. A letter written by Archbishop Troil to Bishop Lindblom (21 November 1800) was symptomatic: he asked touchily whether Lindblom still continued his modern theological journal; he would have liked to edit one, but he feared being branded as a heretic. Reform and reaction were finely balanced.493 Timing of this sea-change in thinking was far more complex in divided Protestant Germany, but a reform of Protestant canon law was contemporaneous. Georg Ludwig Böhmer (1715–97), Böhmer's son, professor of jurisprudence from 1742 at Göttingen, emphasized in his popular textbook, Principi juris canonici (1762; eight editions by 1802), that the Hallesian cuius regio mentality of his father's day was past. The Protestant church had to be more independent of the state (the liturgy was being separated from the law of the land), given the advance of public law. This, he argued, was what his contemporaries wanted. The constitutional relationship of church and state as

492

Hessler, Stat och religion i upplysningstidens Sverige, 42–3.

493

Ibid. 120. Even the mild sermons of Franz Volkmar Reinhard failed to pass his own chapter's censor: ‘O! tempora’, Lindblom to Bishop Tengström, 1 Sept. 1800, ibid. 119.

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identifiable collegiate entities should be taken seriously. His thinking surfaced soon in Brandenburg-Prussia's Code (5 February 1794), preparation for which had started over a decade earlier in April 1780. Initiative in Protestant affairs had passed to larger modernizing states such as Brandenburg-Prussia and Bavaria.494 Saxony remained culturally very important, state reforms were also carried out after 1762/3, but her Catholic court and its Polish connection told against Saxony as the Lutheran heart of a modern Protestant Germany which had advanced under Frederick the Great in Silesia and during the Seven Years' War. Brandenburg-Prussia and Bavaria had the means, and their rulers and ministers possessed the incentive to develop professional staffs and legal systems needed by modern states. Their work implied an inevitable distinction between church and state. Samuel von Cocceji's (1679–1755) judicial reform stripped Brandenburg-Prussian university law and theology faculties of their privileged status—he ended the legal practice of Aktenversendung in 1746—and tidied up Prussian provincial law in the 1740s. Codification, which he initiated, was halted by the onset of the Seven Years' War. The Bavarian, Wiguläus Kreittmayr (1705–90), followed Prussian example, and codified Bavarian law in the following two decades (1750–70). Tidying up in the interests of fashioning a modern public law was true also of lesser Protestant states. It reflected another burst of activity comparable to that of the 1730s in editing and publishing the available source material on customary law and local religious habits. In Swedish Pomerania, Augustin Balthasar (1701–86) made a name for himself, as did his older brother, Jakob Heinrich (d. 1763), as a protagonist of a new Jus ecclesiasticum pastorale (1760–3); in Hanover, Pütter and his colleague, David Strube (1694–1776), wrote much on Lower Saxon local law and history. Strube became popular as a stout defender of the Protestant estates and peasantry in the Catholic prince-bishopric of Hildesheim. Theirs was legal thinking which influenced a new statecraft interested in better public order which transcended the jumble of interests and immunities (liberties) in the Reformation church-state. Frederician conquest pointed to the need for reorganization (Rétablissement) of Brandenburg-Prussia as a state including territories with different histories, corporate rights, and mixed denominational structures. The same pattern developed in

494

Hope, ‘View from the Province’, JEH 41 (1990), 614–17.

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Catholic Bavaria, and in smaller southern German modernizing states such as Baden, and that plurality of states called the Rhine Palatinate. There, of course, modernization was hastened by proximity to revolutionary and Napoleonic France. Georg Ludwig Böhmer's saying ‘Prudentiae est, principi potestatem ecclesiasticam relinqui’ at this unsettled time summed up the thinking of jurists and senior civil servants who carried out a fundamental overhaul of church and state in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia between 1770 and 1815. In Berlin, the question of Lutheran uniformity, ventilated already by Reinbeck in his Considerations on the Augsburg Confession (1733), was taken up by Friedrich Germanus Lüdke (1730–92), archdeacon of St Nicholas after appointment by Spalding in 1765. Lüdke, in Vom falschen Religionseifer (1767), a tract for the times coloured by contemporary Anglican debate about the Thirty-Nine Articles, used as metaphor for cuius regio, a state which stagnated economically because its despotic prince forbade every husbandry which was not traditional.495 Articles of faith were man-made documents to which ordinands took an oath at ordination (this was no longer customary in BrandenburgPrussià since 1713). Lüdke argued that chaos would not ensue if religious articles were modified; his colleagues loved to abuse each other in pulpits anyway; modern liturgies were also beginning to appear. Lüdke's argument became public at the same time as Spalding's and Herder's argument through the pen of Johann Melchior Goeze (1717–86). As senior since 1755 of Hamburg's St Catherine parish, Goeze had proved a spirited and witty defender of Lutheran church order and doctrine in a tract, Zeugniβ der Wahrheit, published the previous year (1766). He had argued that Calvinists had no right to call themselves a ‘congregation at Hamburg’, since they were not considered citizens: to grant them equal religious rights would undermine (arguing like Fresenius at Frankfurt) the Lutheran church in a free city. Established Lutheran Hamburg fell because of religious concessions made for economic reasons at a time when modern theatre was the rage, and a colleague, Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1694–1768), questioning the veracity

495

Lüdke had read the critical (Anon.), The Confessional, or a full and free inquiry into the right, utility, success of establishing confessions of faith and doctrine in Protestant churches (1766; 2nd and 3rd edns. 1767, 1770), by Francis Blackburne (1705–87), an Anglican rector who admired William Chillingworth's (1602–44) views; Aner, ‘Friedrich Germanus Lüdke’, JBBKG 11–12 (1914), 186–7; the controversy, ibid. 164–90.

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of the Bible and Christian religion. Goeze thus replied to Lüdke in another treatise, Die gute Sache des wahren Religionseifers (1770), acknowledging his opponent's popularity from the Baltic to the lake of Constance. Goeze, who approved of Spener and his disciple Reinbeck, criticized Lüdke for siding with Zinzendorf and Moravian teaching, and for making matters worse by failing to mention what he thought were essential and inessential articles of faith. It was left to Lüdke's colleague, Büsching, in a pamphlet published in same year, to list the inessential doctrinal points: the Trinity, Nicene Creed, original sin—which excluded mankind's natural tendency (Anlage) to goodness—and anachronistic expressions such as ‘the eternal quality of damnation’ (Höllenstrafen) used in baptismal rubrics, or in the words of institution.496 This was a public debate which informed the first modern Brandenburg-Prussian legislation on church and state. The Christian church (Lutheran, Reformed, and Catholic) in Brandenburg-Prussia's diverse provinces was made a part (1,232 paragraphs) of a uniform public Code in 1794.497 Typical was its formulation by jurists and civil servants versed in local law: Johann von Carmer (1721–1801), from 1768 Silesian Lord Justice, and his legal aide, the Silesian, Carl Svarez (1746–98), who had reformed Silesian local law: notably lawsuits between landowners and peasantry. The Code was the first law-book since the Reformation (leaving aside Westphalian and Saxon Lutheran codification) which, despite many inconsistencies, recognized the religious freedom of the individual citizen under an inert state. It promulgated the basic modern principle of freedom of religious conscience, and it attempted to clarify the rights of established churches as ‘societies’ in a modern state. But these were early days. The Code really exposed the still very firm grip of the past. If Berlin's Geistliche Departement (1736) governed Lutheran, Reformed, and Catholic local churches, traditional Protestant local church orders and the consistories of the various Lutheran and Reformed territories were left untouched (§§ 113–14, 143–6). The three major Christian denominations

496

Büsching, Allgemeine Anmerkungen über die symbolischen Schriften der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche und besondere Erläuterungen der Augsburger Konfession (Berlin, 1770); Aner, ‘Lüdke’, 177.

497

Allgemeines Landrecht für die preuβischen Staaten von 1794, pt. II, titles 11 (Church) and 12 (Education).

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remained independent privileged corporations, because the peace and security of Brandenburg-Prussia since 1648 was secured in this way. The Code did not establish a Prussian national Protestant church. Protestant consistories were subjected to the state, but official thinking still considered this a novelty. No change took place before the reform of Prussian government after 1806 (in 1808). At parish level, the authority of the home parish remained in force —also in the provincial law of Prussia's core provinces (in East Prussia until 9 May 1854): fees for baptism, marriage, and burial were paid to the parish clergyman (wer zur Parochie gehöre, §§ 260–302, 418–22). The Code also distinguished between Kirchengesellschaften (§ 11), churches recognized by the state as privileged corporations (the parish church was listed as a ‘privileged building of the state’ in which public worship was practised), and Geistliche Gesellschaften (§ 12), religious groups ‘tolerated’ by the state, who were allowed to worship privately behind closed doors, and where no bells were rung (§§ 11–12, 17–18, 20–6). On the other hand, the Code predated the constitutional principles used after 1800 in Protestant Germany, in Catholic Bavaria, and in Scandinavia. The state became the acknowledged source of public and ecclesiastical law; individual religious conscience and the will of the parish congregation were primary. If the modern state was not responsible in a statutory sense for the religion of its subjects (§ 1), every denomination recognized by the state still had to oblige its members to show ‘reverence’ for the Divinity (Gottheit), obedience to law, and loyalty to the state, and to encourage morally good convictions towards fellow citizens (§ 13). Tolerated religious groups were obliged to inform the authorities that their teaching did not contain anything contrary to Christian citizenship (§ 21). Conventicles which could be construed as dangerous to the civil order and security of state were forbidden (§ 9). Clergy as teachers and pastors should provide a good example to parishioners of ‘mildness and conciliation’ (Sanftmuth und Verträglichkeit), and do nothing in official duties and teaching which was objectionable either to their parishioners or to other Christians (§ 71). In the interests of the state, they should tirelessly work for the cause of civic improvement (Belehrung und moralischen Besserung ihrer Mitglieder, § 75). What was taught by clergy, private and public worship, the shape of the liturgy, official days of intercession, were matters of state (§§ 32–5). The Code also put much emphasis on the

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avoidance of religious abuse in the interests of public peace, and religious propaganda construed as being against the state (§§ 37–8, 43). For the first time, guidelines were set down for the economy and administration of the three major churches: church property was put under the overall direction of the state (§ 161); new churches and parishes could be built only with ministerial approval (§§ 176, 238): proper registration of births, marriages, and deaths was ensured by the co-operation of parish clergy with municipal officials (§§ 481–505). The Code included a large section on the qualifications, appointment, and duties of the parish clergyman (§§ 60–112). Parishioners could at last have a say in parish government (on paper): a parish clergyman could not be appointed against their will, and he could be dismissed if he lost their confidence (§§ 324–412). He and his parishioners were made legally responsible for the upkeep of the parish church and its property (§§ 321–3). The Code thus reshaped the clergy office, since sixteenth-century church orders contained nothing about exercising the office according to the will of the congregation, nor about the need to avoid offence (§ 68) in what a clergyman taught, how he conducted parish services, or in carrying out his pastoral duties defined at length in a string of overanxious paragraphs (§§ 66–92). Parish clergy became officially, what was a fact of well-established practice, public servants (Beamte des Staats). They were no longer ‘evangelists’, or a special spiritual estate (§§ 19, 96) like the Swedish clergy (until parliamentary reform in 1865/ 6). The church's transcendent soteriological quality guarded by the notion of Reformation Kirchenregiment was replaced by an ecclesiology which defined the church merely as a privileged society representing the will of its civil members (parishioners) in the state. The Code was really an enlightened step towards a new relationship between church and state: in practice, its authors compromised considerably with local parish custom as it had developed since the Reformation. Carmer and Svarez, aware of their dependence on the royal will in a still absolute state, were also hesitant men who worried much about how far they could go so soon after Frederick the Great's death (1786). Both men also had their limitations: Carmer, who knew his subject from the local angle, disliked everything he had not experienced; Svarez was bookish, liked collegialism as theory, and thought of the Code as a civil textbook laid out in paragraphs. Both suffered in large measure from the academic vice

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of liking to teach each other; especially the legal niceties of royal and local parish patronage. Timing of work on the Code was also very unfortunate. The Code was prefaced by Frederick William II's rejection of his uncle's enlightened policies, and Johann Christoph von Wöllner's (1732–1800) religious Edict of 9 July 1788, which tried to close church doors on Enlightenment. Wöllner's Edict, which almost wrecked this judicial reform and its reshaping of church and state, quickly became notorious because it reflected the weight of conservative noble and burgher opinion in town and country accustomed to a social order defined by status (Obrigkeit and Untertan), and the narrow academic base of Prussia's Enlightenment.498 Wöllner said, simply, ‘So far, and no further’: tradition and custom, the Edict stated, were not to be thrown overboard by the secular spirit of Enlightenment (Aufklärung was printed in thick block letters on a line by itself) which was leading parishioners astray about the Bible's authority, the mystery of revealed religion, and Lutheran theological values such as atonement and satisfaction. Such confusion made the Christian church a subject of popular derision. The poor majority (arme Volksmenge) should not be sacrificed on the altar of fashionable modern teaching. The difference between Edict and Code was really that between a confessionally exclusive and more open-minded established church. Wöllner spoke about defence of the three established Christian confessions (Haupt-Confessionen) recognized in 1648, and named tolerated ‘sects’ such as Moravians, Mennonites, and Jews; Carmer and Svarez spoke about privileged churches and tolerated religious groups. Wöllner reintroduced religious censorship of books and university study, enhanced the disciplinary powers of Lutheran and Calvinist consistories, and spoke of the need to respect the authority (Ansehen) of the clergy as an estate of the realm. He renewed Frederick William II's grandfather's edict (1737) which exempted sons of clergy from military service. On the other hand, he pointed a finger at the liberties taken with official Protestant teaching by some clergy, who, he alleged, rekindled the old disproven theories of Deists, Naturalists, and Socinians. Parishioners were ordered to lead an orderly, pious life (Sunday observance edicts of 1689, 1693, 1711, 1715, and 1718 were listed). In contrast, the Code reflected more open thinking about a Church based on the

498

Text in Patriotisches Archiv für Deutschland, ix (Mannheim 1788), 453 passim.

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Christian will and fellowship of its members; the Edict still saw ‘confession’ (doctrine, articles of faith, rites) as constituting a church. But there were similarities. Both Edict and Code retained supervisory powers in the interests of religious peace; both insisted on the Christian ruler's supervision of what churches taught, the order of public and private worship, and liturgical usage. Both left alone local church order and parish arrangements. A new public mood in the 1790s, despite the weight of conservative custom and opinion, endorsed change, however. Debate about the shape of the liturgy was in full swing in Berlin and Königsberg; Moravians in Brandenburg-Prussia protested successfully against Wöllner's Edict, and they had their privileged status confirmed on 10 April 1789. The Code, briefly suspended by the king (1792–4), was quickly reinstated, owing to the need for effective government in a much enlarged state, especially after the second Partition of Poland (1793) added another 55,000 square kilometres. On the other hand, the scale of a new public debate on the Edict and Code showed up the limits of progress in an old, unreformed provincial ordering of churches. Senior Lutheran and Reformed clergy involved in liturgical reform worried as much as their colleagues in Copenhagen and Stockholm; Spalding resigned from his provostship (1788) over the Edict. Debate also split the clergy (as in Denmark) in the decade 1790–1800, between those who upheld the traditional bond between a Christian prince and his church, and clergy who hoped for a greater relaxation of controls implicit in the new Code. Even tolerant Sack began to worry about a new fictional literature in revolutionary times. Misuse of press freedom was the first point in a lengthy memorandum ‘On the Promotion of greater Religiosity’ (8 April 1802) by Berlin's senior Lutheran consistory.499 Like their colleagues in Copenhagen, Berlin's senior Lutheran clergy saw this relaxation as a major source of contempt for religion. They argued for stricter Sunday observance, protection of hours of worship, better maintenance of parish churches, and a ban on the use of churches for secular purposes such as public concerts (see below). The new king, Frederick William III (1797–1840), also looked to his traditional royal prerogatives. Theologians, clergy, and schoolteachers were increasingly asked to stick to traditional doctrinal teaching in parishes where even the

499

Foerster, i. 115–18.

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PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Code had reinforced the parish clergyman's supervisory role and religious instruction in parish schools (Tit. 12 § 49). Wöllner's Edict reappeared in Frederick William III's sharp reaction to reports in the press (1799–1802) of several cases where parents took months to baptize their children. He was much displeased, and in February 1802 ordered senior clergy to enforce the rule that children of Christian parents must be baptized within six weeks. He also wrote a lengthy memorandum, ‘On the Decay of Religiosity’ (14 February 1802), in which he spoke of his responsibility as the leading member of the church; that church and state were not separate polities; and that church order and the liturgy of public worship were not matters for congregations as they saw fit (Code §§ 46–8). It was the royal tone of things to come. Real change, however, was impeded by a very poorly endowed Lutheran church run by haphazard patronage visible in the Code's lengthy sections on the wealth and property of the church and parishes (§§ 160–236; 237–317). There were too many rather than too few parish churches. Carmer and Svarez tried to make the state responsible for ensuring that church income was properly used, and that churches did not fall into ruin because of lack of cash (§§ 162–3). Severe restrictions were imposed on building new churches and parishes. New churches could be built only if a parish could prove there was enough money available for building and maintenance which did not ‘ruin’ present and future parishioners (§ 177). The importance of the will and capacity to pay of parishioners, crucial issues in modern parishes, was acknowledged. Many of these paragraphs tried to ensure adequate stipends and proper housing as a way of recruiting a properly qualified parish clergy; but this remained only a good intention—they were a damage-limitation exercise. The poverty and low esteem of the Lutheran parish clergy formed the substance of the 147 points included in the lengthy memorandum of 8 April 1802.500 Sack and Zöllner argued that liturgical reform, and the improvement of public worship were linked very closely to improvement of the clergy profession. Social background was raised: few parish clergy including wives were recruited from more educated circles because stipends had remained unchanged for more than two and a half centuries, and occasional fees for at least

500

Foerster, 116–17.

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two. Since the parish clergyman's main source of income was a tithe dependent on soil, weather, and the ability of parishioners to deliver, most parish clergy, because of this insecurity, did other jobs. Stipends and occasional fees were degrading, because parish clergy remained too dependent on patronage in town and country, though they acknowledged that a reform of the dependency system was more or less impossible owing to a general lack of funds. The poorest livings should at the very least see some financial improvement; the smallest and worst-paid should be merged, and some, particularly senior positions, should be upgraded to provide an incentive for better diocesan government. A major reason for poor supervision of poor parish clergy was the fact that funds for visitation were almost non-existent. It was imperative to give senior diocesan clergy a sense of rank and dignity: the title of superintendent with a rank immediately below that of mayor was proposed. General poverty (most parish clergy lacked even the necessary books) was the root of an inferiority complex which led to poor official conduct. The outcome in bureaucratic Berlin was predictable. Ministers prevaricated; they disliked honours being given to clergy; and they feared what the king might think if he read this blunt exposure of a very poor church and clergy. They left the memorandum ad acta, thus ensuring that it did not reach the king's desk. A few piecemeal changes were made. On 16 April 1803, public concerts which charged entrance fees were banned in churches, and on 18 March 1806 it was forbidden to use churches for anything other than private prayer and public worship. Crown livings had stipends raised to 500 thaler per annum including free accommodation and firewood, but most stipends remained the same (c. 250–300 thaler per annum, or much lower in a majority of cases). On 4 August 1806, all clergy (Reformed and Lutheran) in charge of a district were called ‘superintendents’. Otherwise little happened. The poverty of BrandenburgPrussia's Protestant church, particularly in the parishes, soon became apparent again in the returns from provincial consistories and parishes on the progress of the Union (1817) and its common rite (1822). All this was symptomatic of a Reformation church which could not be reformed easily, or quickly, as ministers and clergy found to their great cost throughout the new century.

14 A Constitutional Reformation Church Order? I. New Boundaries and Parishioners A new Protestant church order based on the idea of a very limited degree of religious toleration (usually only of Catholics, Lutherans, and the Reformed) began to appear piecemeal in new state legislation consisting of paragraphs in law codes as lengthy as the Brandenburg-Prussian (1794), or as religious edicts and written constitutions in one German state after another in the twenty-year period of political boundary changes after 1790; thereafter as a gradual process of constitutional expansion in the Confederation (1815–66), and in Bismarck's Prusso-German empire (1871–1918). In the Baltic region and Scandinavia, the same process began with Sweden's 1809 constitution, in Norway with the 1814 Eidsvoll constitution, and in Livonia and Estonia with their incorporation in the Law for the EvangelicalLutheran Church in the Russian Empire (28 December 1832). In Denmark, change took longer, but the break with the past was more radical in the 1849 June Constitution, which abolished the oldest European absolute monarchy. Table 14.1 serves as a rough guide for the more important German states. These new constitutional arrangements weakened the status of each of the three main Christian denominations as the established religion of state recognized by the Westphalia settlements. Each became a privileged Christian church: public corporation in constitutional law. Protestant church and state began to distance themselves constitutionally as a Landesangelegenheit, though the Christian state still separated Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed churches from nonprivileged religious societies. For the first time, parishioners began to have a very limited say in the appointment of parish clergymen, in parish and diocesan government (the synodal

CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMATION CHURCH ORDER?

Table 14.1. New Constitutional Arrangements of Protestant and Catholic Churches in Germany Before 1848 Protestant Churches Before 1815 Brandenburg-Prussia Allgemeines Landrecht 5.2.1794 Bavaria (Catholic) Civil rights of non-Catholics recognized: Religious edict, 26.8.1801 Church constitution, 8.9.1808 17.3/8.9.1809 Baden ‘Organization’—edicts 4.2/11.2.1803 Church constitution, 14.5.1807 Württemberg ‘Organization’ decree, 11.2.1803 Religious edict 15.9.1806

Catholic Church

Peace of Lunéville, 9.2.1801 French Concordat, 15.7.1801 Imperial Hauptschluβ, 25.2.1803a

Brandenburg-Prussia Secularization of Catholic and Protestant church property, 30.9.1810 After 1815 German Confederation Federative Act (Article 16) 8.6.1815b Frankfurt am Main, Free City, City constitution, appendix, 19.7.1816c Nassau Union of Reformed/Lutheran, 11.8.1817 Prussia Union, 27.9.1817 Hessen (Electorate) Hanau Province Union, 1.6.1818 Bavaria State constitution, 26.5.1818; ‘Protestant church’ official 28.10.1824d Bavarian Palatinate Union, 15.8.1818 Baden State constitution, 22.8.1818 Württemberg State constitution, 25.9.1818 Hessen (grand duchy) State constitution, 17.12.1820 Baden

Bavaria Concordat, 5.6.1817

Brandenburg-Prussia

317

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Union, 26.7.1821 Bull, 16.7.1821 Baden ‘Kirchenverfassung der Evangelisch-Protestan- Church Province of the Upper Rhine Archbishopric tischen Kirche’e, 16.8.1821 Freiburg, 16.8.1821f Hessen (grand duchy) Union, 2.10.1822 Hanover Saxony Bull, 26.3.1824 State constitution, 4.9.1831 Saxony Royal Regulativ, 25.5.1837g a

b

c

d

e

f

g

The Peace of Lunéville and the imperial Hauptschluβ abolished Catholic ecclesiastical states, and provided the legal basis for the transference of Catholic church property to German states (Prussia in 1810). The French Concordat (used on the Rhine left bank, 1801–15) became the model of German constitutional arrangements (state by state) with the Catholic church. In 1806 the nominal Landeshoheit of German princes under a Catholic emperor was replaced by the the modern term plenitude de la souverainté. Vienna's Final Act, which revised the Federative Act of June 1815, and was recognized by the federal diet (8 July 1820), left out acknowledgement of religious toleration, and a promise (§ 17) to improve the religious and political rights of Jews. Frankfurt was the first of the free cities to introduce a modern ecclesiastical constitution. Catholics, Lutherans, and Reformed were allowed to govern themselves, and parish boards (Vorstand) were introduced. Bavaria's Catholic king, after much petitioning by the Lutheran Synod of Ansbach and Bayreuth, finally sanctioned the use of the term ‘Protestant church’ in 1824. Baden was exceptional amongst German states in carrying out constitutional fair play between Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed. A religious edict (4 Feb. 1803) created three separate governing bodies: a Catholic Kirchencommission in Karlsruhe, a Lutheran Kirchenrat in Karlsruhe, and a Reformed Kirchenrats-Collegium in Heidelberg. Baden was also advanced in creating an ‘ecclesiastical constitution’ for its Lutheran and Reformed churches in 1821 (Kirchenverfassung der Evangelisch-Protestantischen Kirche im Groβherzogtum Baden). A bull of circumscription defined the Catholic Church Province of the Upper Rhine so as to include all of the new medium-sized southern German states (the two Hessens, Nassau, Baden, Württemberg, and the Free City of Frankfurt am Main), the Thuringian states, the duchies of Waldeck and Oldenburg, and the free cities, Bremen and Lübeck. Since Baden contained the highest percentage of Catholics in any of these states, Freiburg was made an archbishopric with four suffragan bishoprics (Mainz, Fulda, Rottenburg, and Limburg). Saxony's relationship with the Catholic church was ‘regulated’ by its king in 1837. Diocesan government was exercised by an Apostolic Vikariat resident in Dresden, and an Apostolic Präfektur resident in Bautzen over territory defined as ‘territorium separatum; diocesis nullius’. The Apostolic Vicar was also Court Chaplain (Hofprediger). The Saxon king's aim to create a Catholic bishopric at Bautzen failed for two reasons. The Bautzen prefecture was based on customary feudal dependence to the Kingdom of Bohemia recognized in 1637, and this was disputed by Habsburg Vienna until 1845. Protestant and liberal Saxon opposition was also too strong before 1918. A Saxon Catholic bishopric, Meissen, with its seat in Bautzen, was re-created in 1921. The eight surviving Thuringian states followed a complicated and gradual constitutional development. Before 1848, Saxony-Weimar-Eisenach introduced common Lutheran and Reformed church government (1816), Saxony-Meiningen regulated Lutheran affairs in a Basic Law (§ 29, 1829), and Saxony-Altenburg likewise (§ 128, 1831); the other five states regulated their church affairs after 1849.

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idea), in the shape of the liturgy, and in the administration of church property and endowments. Witte, Tholuck's biographer, likened these changes in timing and in constitutional significance to the abolition of the English Test Act (1828), and the Roman Catholic Relief Bill (1829), which acknowledged the civic equality of ‘Dissenters’ and Roman Catholics in England.501 There was also a similarity in political continuity: article 16 of the Confederation's constitution (1815) protected the individual Christian citizen only; not an established provincial Protestant church in which a ruler retained his episcopal rights (Kirchengewalt). This period was equally, if not more significant for the Catholic

501

Witte, Leben Tholucks, ii. 243–4.

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church in Germany, which in 1816, the year of the first reliable censuses, contained roughly 13.5 million Protestants and just over 7 million Catholics.502 If the Catholic German church retained its Christian universality in contrast to Protestant provincial church orders, it was forced to reorganize itself after 1803–6 in a political environment of modern sovereign states. Rome tried to do this either by a treaty known as a Concordat (following Napoleonic precedent) with a sovereign state which acknowledged the Catholic church as a privileged self-governing corporate institution in constitutional law (Bavaria's concordat of 1817 was the only example before 1848; Württemberg was the next in 1857), or by diplomatic negotiation and bulls of circumscription, which restored the diocesan structure of the Catholic church within these new borders. Therefore, special to Protestant Germany after 1815, was the way contemporaneous Catholic constitutional reorganization pushed Protestants quickly towards finding a new Protestant constitutional identity. This was most noticeable in Bavaria and Prussia after the bull Dei ac domini nostri Jesu Christi (1818–21) had reorganized the Bavarian Catholic church as the archbishopric of Munich-Freising (suffragan bishoprics, Passau, Regensburg, and Augsburg), and the archbishopric of Bamberg (suffragan bishoprics, Würzburg, Eichstätt, and Speyer), and the bull De salute animarum (1821) had reorganized Prussia's Catholic church as the archbishopric of Cologne (suffragan bishoprics, Trier, Münster, and Paderborn), and the archbishopric of PosenGnesen (suffragan bishopric Kulm with the ‘exempt’ dioceses Breslau and Ermland). None of these new constitutional arrangements suited either kings and ministers, or popes and bishops, or clergy and laity. Constitutional interpretation, which included new political parties, of partial constitutional arrangements sanctioned by article 13 of the Federal Act (landständische) became a source of bitter German political conflict on a scale unheard of since the Reformation as the nineteenth century progressed. The idea of denominational fair play (Parität) was written into this legislation, only because some twenty-five years of war with revolutionary and Napoleonic France had radically reshaped north-western and south-western Germany's political landscape, and French equal treatment under the law had begun to influence the thinking of a

502

Pieper, Kirchliche Statistik Deutschlands, 16–17.

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new public-minded generation in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia. A young generation had appeared on the scene with strong expectations of a more liberal and rewarding life in the future. In a still largely rural order, their presence was felt in universities which continued to control entry into prestigious state employment via law and theology. Niemeyer, wearing his hat as an educational reformer at Napoleonic and Prussian Halle, noted a sharp rise in university attendance in these disciplines in his travelogues (published 1822–6).503 Patriotism of an enlightened kind devoted to public service and the advance of popular education in the State, especially after French defeat, produced a surplus of ‘educated’ young men in the Protestant German and Scandinavian Vormärz (the period c.1815–48). The Scot, Samuel Laing (1780–1868), noted in Prussia (in 1835), 262 candidates for every 100 Protestant livings; legal figures were similar: 256 graduates for every 100 judicial offices.504 Those lucky enough to find employment demanded constitutional change. They inevitably reshaped the Reformation notion of Obrigkeit. Frederick William III, for instance, experienced strong opposition from ministers and senior civil servants who argued against ‘hierarchy’, when he introduced bishops (in 1826–7), using Anglican and Swedish precedent to ensure the successful imposition of his 1822 liturgy. A novel example of denominational fair play in our modern constitutional sense was the appearance after 1817 of an official doctrinal, liturgical, and constitutional Union of the Lutheran and Reformed churches (unthinkable before 1803–15) in western and south-western Germany: in Nassau (August 1817), in Prussia (September 1817)—Prussia's western Reformed provinces led the way; in Catholic Bavaria's Protestant Rhine Palatinate (August 1818); in Baden (July 1821); and in even smaller political units: the Hessian provinces of Hanau (electorate: June 1818) and Rheinhessen (grand duchy: October 1822); the little principality, Waldeck (1821), and the duchies of Anhalt-Bernburg and Anhalt-Dessau (1820/7; after the inclusion of Cöthen in 1865, known as a Unierte evangelische Landeskirche). This new constitutional relationship between church and state,

503

Niemeyer, Beobachtungen auf Reisen in und ausser Deutschland etc., ii. 309; L. O'Boyle, ‘The Problem of an Excess of Educated Men in Western Europe’, JMH 42/4 (1970), 478.

504

Laing, Observations on the Social and Political State of the European People in 1848 and 1849 (London, 1850), 211–12.

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which forced Lutherans to acknowledge de jure the Reformed church, was everywhere an act of state carried out by an enlightened generation of senior civil servants and law officers. The modern term Landeskirche in Protestant legislation and writing on church and state appeared at this time. Schleiermacher used it in the 1820s to criticize the way King Frederick William III arbitrarily imposed his own liturgical, and by implication, uniform church order on the diverse churchscape of his Prussian provinces. In a short reply (1827) to the king's printed defence of his actions, Schleiermacher distinguished between the king's intolerant religious policy, which he bracketed with a ‘court-church’ (Hofkirche), having also in mind the difference between the faith of the ruler (Reformed in this case) and that of his subjects, and a Landeskirche: a more independent local Protestant church standing for denominational fair play, governed by the mild hand of a local ruler using his episcopal rights, and fashioned by these new post-war constitutional arrangements.505 Schleiermacher's Landeskirche enjoyed, as under the Code, special protection and promotion by the state as opposed to those religious societies that were merely ‘tolerated’. However, the trend after 1750 towards absorption by departments of state (§ 145 of the Code, or by a Kultusdepartment in Württemberg's religious edict of 1806), continued. As yet these were also early days; the constitutional authority of Protestant consistories remained unclear; the reduction of Kleinstaaterei made it easier after 1815 to abolish the sixteenth-century consistory as an ill-defined institution mixing church and state, and subject merely to the whims of a prince. The German Vormärz was thus a time when Protestant churches acquired limited self-governing consistories (Prussia in 1815; Bavaria in 1818). There was much wrangling about competence and procedure between senior clergy and king and ministers. The inclusion of a Protestant Landeskirche (since 1817 it could be Lutheran, Reformed, or a union) in the new confederal political system (1815–66) was fashioned by a more self-assured modern Protestant canon law. It was developed by Karl Friedrich von

505

(Frederick William III, anon.), Luther in Beziehung auf die Preussische Kirchen-Agende vom Jahre 1822, mit dem im Jahre 1823 bekannt gemachten Verbesserungen und Vermehrungen (Leipzig, 1827); Schleiermacher, Gespräch zweier selbst überlegender evangelischer Christen über die Schrift: Luther in Bezug auf die preuβische Agende (Leipzig, 1827); Foerster, Entstehung der preussischen Landeskirche, ii. 157–9. See Pacificus Sincerus (Schleiermacher), Über das liturgische Recht evangelischer Landesfürsten (1824); Ohst, Schleiermacher und die Bekenntnisschriften, 74–7.

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Savigny (1779–1861), professor of Roman law at the new Prussian state university in Berlin (1810–42), as part of his new historical school of jurisprudence, and by his influential pupils: Karl Friedrich Eichhorn (1781–1854) at Göttingen (1817–28) and Berlin (1832–4); Aemilius Ludwig Richter (1808–64) at Marburg (1838–41) and Berlin after 1846; and in the Protestant part of Bavaria, by Christoph von Scheurl (1811–93), an influential professor of Roman and canon law at Erlangen after 1845, and parliamentarian (1845–9).506 These brilliant jurists still retained the ill-defined naturallaw view of the Protestant church as a college, society, or corporation, but they refashioned it to suit this new post-war constitutional landscape. They used the society/corporation idea in much the same way as the papal Curia used the Napoleonic Concordat. Both Protestant and Roman canon law aimed to obtain ‘most favoured ecclesiastical treatment’ by the state. In this way, modern German constitutional law as the source of Protestant canon law, began to replace sixteenth-century church orders and liturgies, and the jumble of canon law and princely statutes which had accumulated since the Reformation. Sixteenth-century church orders were also treated historically as constitutional documents. The fact that the Reformers did not see the state as a source of power, but as a responsible Christian office with a duty to serve the Christian commonwealth and protect an authorized liturgy of public worship, thus disappeared from view. Richter's modern constitutional collection of sixteenth-century church orders (1846) simply left out the liturgies and social provision for a Christian commonweal which they contained.507 This new legal thinking was soon applied by similar-minded jurists to church and state in four new Scandinavian states: after 1809 to Sweden and Finland, and after 1814 to Norway and Denmark. However, new Protestant constitutional and canon law still retained the idea of the Christian state established by law. Subjects had to belong to a Christian denomination. Leaving an established Christian church was unthinkable. The religious moment remained strong in civil acts such as baptism, marriage, and burial until the first attempts at separation of civil and religious competences in

506

Hope, ‘View from the Province’ JEH 41 (1990), 617–19; Magen, Protestantische Kirche und Politik in Bayern, 60.

507

A. L. Richter, Die evangelischen Kirchenordnungen des sechzehnten Jahrhunderts, Urkunden und Register zur Geschichte des Rechts und der Verfassung der evangelischen Kirche in Deutschland (Weimar, 1846), 2 vols: the standard work until Sehling's 20th-c. edn. in progress since 1902.

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Frankfurt's parliament of 1848. Jews continued to be seen as practising an imperfect Christianity. Legislative emancipation began haltingly in 1828, over a decade after article 17 of the Federative Act had promised civic improvement of Judaism. Even a liberal-minded theologian such as Heinrich Paulus (1761–1851), teaching at Heidelberg in the radical 1830s, still used, as an argument against emancipation, his assumption that Jews were morbidly attached to their particular laws and customs. Official thinking assumed that the state was in danger if Christian religious forms and observances were not followed. The Christian clergyman was thus considered a valued public officer who ‘educated good citizens’ (instruction to Württemberg's parish clergy, 9 June 1809). The obligation to use and pay for the services of the parish clergyman and church (Ortspfarrei, Pfarrzwang) continued; abolition took place only very gradually between 1818 and 1894.508 German and Scandinavian Protestant churchmanship retained, until the more open 1860s, a political hue which Karl Immanuel Nitzsch (1787–1846), professor of practical theology at Bonn from 1822, called ‘mastering Raisonnement.509 Fear of the Enlightenment as a secular force was perhaps ultimately more important in shaping nineteenth-century Protestant church politics than confessional differences raised by the question of Union, or by the challenge of a restored Catholic church and these new constitutional arrangements. The Union was frequently seen as a product of a latitudinarian Enlightenment and French secular values. Lutheran senior clergy in particular, but also Reformed senior clergy, began to speak about the Reformation church in danger; a sense of history which valued local Reformation church orders became fashionable; Lutheran churchmanship turned ritualistic in a similar way to the contemporaneous Oxford movement in the Anglican church. Symptomatic was Tholuck's correspondence and warm friendship with Edward Pusey (1800–82). Pusey visited Tholuck during two German trips (1825–6), and Tholuck stayed with Pusey at Christ Church, Oxford,

508

J. Katz, Out of the Ghetto: The Social Background of Jewish Emancipation 1770 –1870 (Cambridge, Mass., 1973), 191–203; similar timing in England, ibid. 195. ‘Selbst der gute Bürger wird durch die Prediger gebildet’ (9 June 1809), Eisenlohr, Sammlung der württembergischen Kirchengesetze, ii. 152 passim, cited Rieker, Rechtliche Stellung der evangelischen Kirche Deutschlands, 349. J. Freisen, Der katholische und protestantische Pfarrzwang.

509

Nitzsch, Praktische Theologie (Bonn, 1847) i. 403–4. Nitzsch thought that ‘Lutheran’ personality, provinciality, and emotion (Calvinism was stamped rationalist), rather than mind or principles, really guided this debate, ibid. 419.

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in May 1835. Tholuck approved too of Newman's university sermons in St Mary's.510 Tholuck's and Pusey's friendship reflected a new European trend amongst clergy of both the Protestant and Catholic churches towards the restoration of Christian authority, ritual, and values in the half-century 1820–70.

II. The Reformation Family of Church Orders Reshaped In the Wittenberg, Brandenburg-Prussian, and Dutch Reformed area of the Reformation church of northern and north-western Germany, the reshaping of provincial church orders took place simultaneously with a local awakening amongst parish clergy and laity, and a new civic patriotism which looked to the ‘nation’ as the future bearer of a cultural and political identity. In the duchies Slesvig/Schleswig and Holsten/Holstein, the Lutheran Reformation church of the Helstat DenmarkNorway, based on a customary mix of Danish uniformity and local German church orders, was confronted with a new identity, Danish or German, given the inclusion of Holstein in the German Confederation, and the increased weight of the duchies in Danish politics after the loss of Norway in 1814. These Lutheran duchies proved to be one of the most vexing cases of constitutional reform of a Reformation church. Customary arrangements in an old church-state order governed by a jumble of medieval rights and immunities, separate and developing languages, customary German sixteenth-century church orders and liturgies, and Danish absolutism's late seventeenth-century uniformity, did not mix very easily with the constitutionalism which emerged in the period of enlightened Danish state reform after 1770, and similar German civic reform amongst nobility, magistracies, and burghers in the towns of the duchies. Enlightened thought, a lay awakening, constitutionalism, and nationalism were thus almost contemporaneous in the period before 1848. A growing nationalism on Danish and German sides of parish boundaries (often in the same parish) was accompanied by an increasingly passionate debate about established or lay churchmanship, and a struggle between clergy and laity for control of parishes and schools.

510

H. P. Liddon, Life of Edward Bouverie Pusey (London, 1894), i. 78, 98, 321 passim. ‘A German writes because he has something to say; an Englishman only because it is, or he thinks it is, needed’, etc. Pusey to Tholuck, 24 May 1830, ibid. 238.

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In Lower Saxony (Niedersachsen), sixteenth-century church orders, the offspring of several duchies, counties, and minor jurisdictions (Amt, Land), home towns, and religious foundations (Stift), remained in existence. This was similar to Thuringia and Silesia. Some sixteen Lutheran Reformation church orders survived during Lutheran Hanover's shortlived existence as a kingdom (1814–66), and as a self-governing Hanoverian Lutheran church under Protestant Prussia (1866–1918). Reformation superintendencies also remained contiguous with municipalities (Ämter). This map also contained several secularized Catholic bishoprics, collegiate churches, and thirty monasteries, which survived after 1818 as educational establishments managed by the Hanoverian Klosterkammer ad pias causas, serving Hanover as a source of educational endowment, and as institutions housing women. Provincial government also continued (after 1818) in seven self-governing provinces (Landschaften) equipped with local parliaments: Osnabrück (1803), Emsland, Lingen, Meppen, East Frisia, Hildesheim (1813), and Goslar. The new Hanoverian kingdom remained a penetrated political system too, with a British constitutional connection (1734–1837), and Dutch Reformed tradition and influence visible in the Free City of Bremen and East Frisia. On the other hand, Lower Saxon Lutheran churches had experienced strong reforming currents after c.1750. Mosheim's teaching at tolerant Helmstedt and Göttingen, and Göttingen's new public law, had installed a generation of parish clergy dedicated to modern pastoral care and educational principles. This was institutionalized in the new schoolteacher (Lehrerseminar) and clergy (Predigerseminar) seminaries established at Hanover (1751, 1816) and Loccum (1792). Lower Saxon provincial Lutheran church order shared with western and southern Germany the disastrous cost of the French revolutionary wars, and the reforming centralist hand of Napoleon (Hanover was occupied by the Prussians, 1801/2, annexed by Prussia, 1805/6–1807, and, after Prussian defeat, divided by Napoleon, 1807–13: a southern part was included in his brother's kingdom of Westphalia, and a northern part annexed to France, 1810–13). This memory, and the redrawing of Hanover's political boundaries in 1815 so as to include a sizeable Catholic minority population (c.15%) in the two dioceses Osnabrück and Hildesheim created by the bull Impensa Romanorum Pontificum (1824) caused an identity crisis for Hanoverian Protestants. Conservative-minded

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Lutherans began immediately to question the application of constitutionalism to Hanoverian Reformation church order. After 1822, the Hanoverian Lutheran church became an established royal Landeskirche; Lutheran consistories were governed constitutionally by a state ministry seated in Hanover. In practice, the question of competence and procedure remained very unclear. Six local Reformation consistories—Hanover (Hildesheim was dissolved in 1818), Stade, Aurich, Osnabrück, Otterndorf, and Hohnstein—continued. Until Prussian annexation (1866) these six consistories also worked quite independently of each other. An ordinand who sat his exam in one was not recognized by the others. Hanover's Lutheran church inevitably became, therefore, a part of the Hanoverian constitutional debate and crisis in the years 1819, 1833, and 1837. The questions of whether the Hanoverian Lutheran church was a self-governing or established church in a state where monarchs were not clever enough to make up their minds whether they were constitutional or not, and whether the Hanoverian church after 1815 should remain Lutheran, or fashion a Union with its sister Reformed church, began to divide loyalties. Debate was also enlivened by the presence of an enlightened pastorate brought up in Göttingen, and one influenced by the Lutheran awakening inspired by Claus Harms (1778–1855) both as the author of ninety-five additional Lutheran theses printed in 1817, and as senior of Kiel from 1835. This crisis of identity was felt even in a Reformed environment such as the Free City of Bremen, which contained a Lutheran cathedral parish zealous of its rights in a city which had lacked an established parish order since the Reformation. The survival of anomalous Reformation church order and customary arrangements remained typical of north-western Germany as a whole. Little Lutheran states kept the idea of the princely church with insignificant modifications intact until 1918. These were the duchy of Lauenburg (united with Hanover in 1705; Prussian in 1815; Danish thereafter until 1864; Prussian in 1865); the grand duchy of Oldenburg (Counties of Oldenburg and Delmenhorst administered by Denmark after 1774; by Lübeck 1803–15; grand duchy 1815); the duchy of Brunswick (1813; its ruling dynasty died out in 1884); Schaumburg-Lippe (Reformed ruler), elevated to a principality through its membership of the Rheinbund (1807). Higher up the course of the river Rhine, revolution and war

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(1792–1806) had a more radical effect, as evident in the Rhine Palatinate, Baden, Württemberg, and Strasburg, which were shaped by Basle/Genevan Reformed church order. Baden, Württemberg, and Catholic Bavaria whose political boundaries included Lutheran Franconia and the Protestant Rhine Palatinate, constituted by 1815 a new churchscape where new political boundaries mixed Reformed, Lutheran, and Catholic populations in sovereign states. Napoleon's granting of civil equality and religious liberty in the constitution of the kingdom of Westphalia (1807) was a strong influence in these new states which were called into being by enlightened civil servants who possessed a weak sense of loyalty to the old customary order. For this reason, Maximilian von Montgelas (1759–1838) in Bavaria and Sigismund von Reitzenstein (1766–1847) in Baden ‘went further and accomplished more than Stein and Hardenberg’.511 Liberal churchmanship expressed as a demand for lay representation in south-western Germany before 1848 was coloured by these radical reforms. Baden's rise from eighteenth-century princeling status was without precedent, and perhaps the most rapid. In 1771, Protestant Baden-Durlach, an enlightened absolute showcase (serfdom was abolished in 1783), had inherited Catholic Baden-Baden. Despite territorial loss after 1795, Baden became an electorate (1803) through membership of the Rheinbund, and gained via compensation the entire palatinate east of the Rhine (Heidelberg, Mannheim, Ladenburg, and Bretten). With further additions, Baden had expanded to 7,200 square German miles (445,000 inhabitants). Further expansion (the Breisgau) followed in 1805, adding another 2,530 square miles (160,000 inhabitants). Additions followed Baden's elevation to a grand duchy in 1806, when the Code Napoleon was installed as part of Badenese local law (some 15,000 square miles with c.1 million inhabitants). Territorial expansion forced ministers to provide a constitutional framework in a new state with a strong Protestant minority (1817: 66.9% Catholic, 31.4% Protestant).512 A church constitution (1807) granted self-government to the Catholic church, and introduced common Lutheran and Reformed government (the annual Lutheran celebration of Reformation Day was abolished); common Lutheran and Reformed religious instruction

511

Sheehan, German History 1770 –1866, 291.

512

In 1815, four-fifths of Protestant Baden was Lutheran; a fifth Reformed, Ludwig, Baden, 16, 23.

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was extended to Baden's schools in 1810. This prefaced Baden's post-war constitution (1818), and Union (1821). Reformation Württemberg of the Tübinger Vertrag (1514), which lasted intact with its estates and Kirchengut until 1806, experienced thereafter similar rapid change. In 1781, Württemberg was a state of some 9,400 square German miles (620,000 inhabitants). Elevation to an electorate, and territorial compensation (1803) brought many secularized abbeys, monasteries, and collegiate foundations, and nine imperial towns. Between 1803 and 1810 (Württemberg became a kingdom in 1806), more former Catholic monasteries and former imperial towns, including Ulm, were added. In 1810, Württemberg was a state of some 19,511 square German miles (1.5 million inhabitants; 400,000 Catholics) divided between the predominant Lutherans (1832: 68.46%) and Catholics (1858 maximum: 30.75%).513 This process changed the shape of Württemberg's Reformation Lutheran church radically. A religious edict for ‘New Württemberg’ (1803) therefore granted ‘parity’ to the three main Christian denominations. The established Lutheran church was no longer the religion of state. It became a public corporation (with representation in the Upper House of a new parliament) like its sister Catholic and Reformed churches. Its finance was also taken over by the state which sequestrated its Kirchengut. Lutheran Tübingen University was ordered to introduce Protestant and Catholic theology faculties. The enclosed world of eighteenth-century Lutheran Württemberg's Pietism came to an end. Such radical changes prefaced, as in Baden, the constitutional inclusion of the church in a new post-war constitution (1818). These fundamental changes were also shaped by the habit of live-and-let-live in the a multiform Reformation order of south-western German parishes which had been exposed to almost continuous dynastic and religious wars brought to an end by French revolutionary armies and Napoleon. Historical circumstance, therefore, produced a greater readiness amongst parishioners and authorities to tolerate religious minorities than in the more homogeneous Lutheran states of central and north-eastern Germany and Scandinavia. French experience in the latter (excepting East Prussian parochial experience of Napoleon's advancing and retreating Grand Army) was second-hand too.

513

Würster, Württemberg, 11, 333.

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Lutheran central and north-eastern Germany were not changed in any fundamental way by these twenty-five years of war and revolution. Significant, however, were internal boundary changes spread over the period 1740–1815. These followed Prussian acquisition of Lutheran Silesia (1740), gains from all three partitions of Poland (1772–93), the inclusion (1815) of about 50 per cent of Lutheran Saxony, and Lutheran Swedish Pomerania. If these additions established the basis for a growing Prussian Protestant ascendancy after 1815, they also reinforced a new and growing Protestant German identity which distinguished between a Lutheran East and a Lutheran and Reformed West. The Reformed Rhine-Westphalian Church Order of 1835, and the foundation of an ‘Old-Lutheran’ free church as the ‘Evangelical-Lutheran Church in Prussia’ at Silesian Breslau in 1841 (Prussian royal recognition 1845) expressed this new awareness. Saxony, after 1815 no longer the fourth largest German state (as it had been since 1635), lost its influence in Protestant Germany, though its claim to be the guardian of the German Reformation on the basis of its conservative Lutheran church order and liturgy (1539, 1580) remained intact in essentials until 1918. Change had partly to do with a new civic mood amongst the clergy generation in office after 1770, however slowly time passed in Saxony's established church. Many clergy felt that Lutheran sixteenth-century church order (consistories), like Saxon government (the estates and city councils), had outlived their original purpose. This wind of change began to blow quite vigorously in Dresden and Leipzig, and it tempered legislation which emancipated Catholics in 1807, and the tiny Reformed church (1,620 members in 1831) a decade later in 1818. Full religious equality was finally granted in Saxony's liberal constitution (1831). This enlightened generation of parish clergy also warmed to the politics of Lutheran self-government in new deanery meetings (synods), and their political temper sometimes led to an alliance with early Saxon liberalism, which demanded, after 1830, the end of a hierarchic Lutheran church. On the other hand, this liberal environment coupled with the loss of Wittenberg and about half of Lutheran Saxony to Prussia, fashioned in its turn amongst many clergy, mindful still of Dresden's Catholic court and Catholic Upper Lusatia (in 1815, 22,000 amongst a predominantly Lutheran population of 1,178,000), an ecclesiology based on the doctrinal defence of Duke Henry's conservative church order and rite.

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Relations with Prussia's Union church after 1817 became very strained.514 Next door, the extended family of little Thuringian states disappeared in 1815. Eight little states remained, compared with eighteen in 1700. Between 1820 and 1840 the old consistories were reorganized as integral units of eight Landeskirchen: the grand duchy of Saxony-Weimar-Eisenach, four duchies (Coburg and Gotha 1826 under one ruler but with separate administrations), the two Reuss principalities, and the principality of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen. In these little sovereign states, the trend was to follow fair play and merger visible in an ‘Evangelical’ Weimar Landeskirche (1816). This acknowledged a Union of Lutheran with Hessian Reformed parishes which had been incorporated in Weimar in 1815. In 1837 both confessions were united in a Landeskollegium run by departments shared between Weimar and Eisenach. The other Lutheran states were not so liberal, but the Vormärz was a time of administrative merger which destroyed the substance of local sixteenth-century church order. Old Lutheran church order survived longest only in the two Reuss principalities. The senior line with its prince as summus episcopus continued in the Greiz consistory (1768) until its reorganization in 1880; the Reuss junior line continued to govern, in Reformation fashion, the Gera consistory (1666) until its reorganization in 1863. Elsewhere a gentrified Lutheran church survived in substance until 1918. The two Mecklenburgs elevated to grand duchies (1815) survived complete with Reformation estates (1523) under the terms of the Erbvergleich (1755) as an oldworld showcase in which peasant parishioners were denied rights of religious or political self-expression. This was exposed mercilessly by the sharpened pen of Julius Wiggers, a clergyman of national-liberal sympathy, and the local Plattdeutsch satirist, Fritz Reuter (1810–74) in novella such as Kein Hüsung (1857), or Dörchläuchting (1866). The local Reformation Lutheran church continued much as before, given the piecemeal progress of land reform, in both the neighbouring Pomeranias absorbed by Prussia in 1815. It was thus no mere coincidence that a local Lutheran awakening appeared on the estates of gentry such as the von Thaddens in a churchscape where the Prussian Union was being implemented. Further East, opposition to this union amongst

514

Drews, Sachsen, 251, 253; R. Bruck, Die Beurteilung der preuβischen Union in Sachsen in den Jahren 1817 –1830 (Berlin, 1981). 22–4 and passim.

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clergy and parishioners in Lutheran Silesia (1817–48) provided perhaps the most telling commentary on the way that the memory of an identity as an embattled Lutheran church (particularly a love of local liturgical tradition based on the Augsburg Confession), was built on religious habits which had continued in spite of the ‘tolerant’ principles of Frederick the Great apparent in the Code, and the church being run as a Brandenburg-Prussian department of state until 1810, after incorporation (1740) of the three Lutheran senior consistories of Breslau, Glogau, and Oppeln (Reformed congregations were governed by Berlin's Reformed Directory until its dissolution in 1808). In Livonia and Estonia, Sweden's Church Law and German Reformation church orders survived as customary ecclesiastical law until the Russian Law for the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in the Russian Empire (1832; 512 elegant paragraphs) placed the Livonian, Estonian, and Courlandic Landeskirchen under the Czar and the Russian state (Lutheran Finland and Poland remained more autonomous). St Petersburg's Lutheran senior consistory supervised by the Ministry of the Interior became the governing authority, though the former's lay presidents were usually Baltic barons: amongst seven chairmen, 1833–91, there were five Germans, a Finn (1879–88), and one of Swedish origin (1888–91). Until 1917, the Czar stepped into the role of the Swedish king: he appointed the general superintendent of Livonia, and he authorized everything in liturgical matters, such as the pericopes to be used on the anniversary of Luther's Reformation, or matters such as large benefactions to the church and the sale of church property. It was a constitutional arrangement which also re-emphasized the authority of the Lutheran office (Amt), notably correct clerical dress (§ 220), and introduced annual deanery meetings (synods, § 438) in which parish clergy were allowed to exchange views but were refused any executive or legislative powers.515 However, in practice, local custom continued. St Petersburg upheld German and Swedish customary arrangements. If the German barons retained only the right of supervision, and their Landtag authority over welfare and parish education, parish patronage remained firmly in their hands. They continued their tight hold over an indigenous peasantry which had only been partially

515

Garve, Konfession und Nationalität, 8–17.

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emancipated between 1802 and 1819, and they controlled six new consistories by electing the chairmen: Riga (Livonia), Reval (Estonia), Mitau (Courland), two separate city consistories, Riga and Reval, and the island consistory of Oesel (Saaremaa). The customary mix of Swedish and German Lutheran church orders and liturgies survived too, although the Swedish 1693 service-book had come to an official end in 1805. Dorpat, reinstated in 1802 as a local university serving its German Landeskinder, was also untouched by this law (Dorpat and Helsinki became sisters to pre-reform Anglican Oxford and Cambridge: Ch. 10). Lutheran Livonian, Estonian, and Courlandic church order hardly changed, therefore, before the first attempts to Russify in the 1840s challenged the coexistence of Lutheran church order and ritual with Russian Orthodoxy. This challenge, coupled with the popularity of Moravianism, fostered an interest in the development of Lutheran doctrine since the Reformation and Christian doctrine by Baltic theologians such as Theodosius Harnack (1817–89) and his son (Karl Gustav) Adolf (1851–1930). But the survival of a gentrified church governed by a Lutheran German ruling class, strengthened in the long run the bond between an ethnic Estonian and Latvian religious awakening visible as a Moravian spring in the century 1740–1840, and its identification with a new Estonian and Latvian ethnic consciousness after 1860. In this sense, this was a development which had more than a little resemblance to a similar lay awakening and new cultural and political conflict between Lutheran German and Dane in Slesvig/Schleswig and Holsten/Holstein.

III. Sweden, Prussia, and Bavaria A. Sweden In Denmark-Norway, despite a new and widespread public debate about the place of an established Lutheran Reformation church in a modernizing absolute state (c.1770–1814), and its linkage to a lay constitutional movement and awakening in Denmark and Norway thereafter, no significant constitutional change took place before Norway's Dissenter Law (1845), which released an obligation to remain within the established church, and Denmark's June constitution of 1849, which abolished absolutism. The Eidsvoll constitution (1814) had subjected Norway's Lutheran church to a

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parliament (Storting) and supreme court (Høyesterett, until 1887). Clergy appointment and the liturgy remained a royal prerogative: this belonged to the Swedish king, given Norway's union with Sweden until 1905. In 1818, government of the church was centralized, as with sister Protestant German churches, under a government department (Departementet for Kirke- og Undervisningsvæsenet). As a result, a demand for self-government or representation made little headway before the lay awakening gathered strength (c.1840) in a country with no sizeable religious minorities.516 A new constitution (Regeringsform) was introduced by parliament in Sweden in June 1809 following the bloodless coup and constitutional crisis (13 March) which abolished enlightened Gustavian absolutism (in place since 1771), and the annexation of Finland ratified by the Diet of Borgå (Porvoo, 29 May 1809). Like its sister German constitutions, though longer-lived (it remained in force until 1975 as the oldest written European constitution), its provision of a constitutional monarchy with greater powers than that of the British, was introduced by similar open-minded civil servants, and a clergy generation who approved (after c.1780) of German Neology. But for Sweden's established Lutheran church, because of the hold of the past expressed by royal ‘custodianship’, it was only a cautious, conservative step towards limited religious liberty. The Swedish fundamental Lutheran articles of faith adopted by the Uppsala convocation of clergy in 1593 (these were mentioned specifically) and by Sweden's Church Law, their connection with the Lutheran succession (§ 4), the king's obligation to observe them (§ 2), and a similar obligation by members of the council of state (§ 4), civil servants, and judges (§ 28), remained in force. Blasphemy was still a crime (§ 3); the Conventicle Act (1726) remained in place (until 1858). On the other hand, paragraph 16 spelt out on paper, as did the Brandenburg-Prussian Code and the constitutions of Bavaria, Baden, and Württemberg, the natural-law view of contract guaranteeing a citizen's rights: ‘the king . . . shall not constrain or allow to be constrained the conscience of any person, but shall protect everyone in the free exercise of his religion, provided that he does not thereby disturb public order or occasion general offence’.517 The idea of the state as a public institution supported by a Lutheran

516

Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19. århundre, i. 15–20, 170–85.

517

Hessler, Stat och religion i upplysningstidens Sverige, 156, 225; Brilioth, Vården om kyrkan, 7–20; S. Göransson, ‘Konfessionalism, Religionsfrihet, Statskyrklighet’, Kå (1964), 71–104.

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church which used enlightened moral theology to educate Swedes as good citizens thus shaped widespread public debate in the decade 1810–20 on what paragraph 16 meant about Swedish citizenship. It was no coincidence either that the political word ‘liberal’ appeared at this time.518 Sweden's 1809 constitution was an extremely careful balancing act designed to calm kings worried about the implications for Swedish establishment of modern German philosophy and French revolutionary thought, a conservative-minded senior and parish clergy majority, religious dissent visible in the growth of the Moravians in central and southern and ‘Readers’ in northern Swedish provinces, a small urban enlightened generation of civil servants and neologist clergy, and an urban liberal public who wished to extend the constitutional implications of religious liberty (§ 16) and the provision of press freedoms (§ 86). Open-minded Archbishop Lindblom in his speech to the clergy in parliament in May 1809, was thus, owing to his experience of royal conservatism in liturgical matters, very cautious: he emphasized that evangelical doctrine would be protected. Caution was also apparent in his gradual introduction of the new service-book (1811), and hymn-book (1819). Lindblom's resigned utterance in a letter to his friend, Münter, in Copenhagen (February 1811), ‘one had no freedom to think and write under Gustavus Adolphus [IV] . . . he clung almost to the point of superstition to tradition, especially in religious matters [in adiaphoris]’ summed up the difficulty of giving a modern constitution to the Swedish church in a new public environment where public worship and churchgoing had become major issues for the Swedish clergy.519 Gustaf Murray (1747–1825), senior in Stockholm (from 1801), asked Sweden's evangelical Samfundet Pro Fide et Christianismo to issue the prize question (1804), ‘Are public worship and the rite of communion religious observances which can be neglected by any Christian without endangering both religion and good morals?’ Fearing reprisals, Murray did not publish the replies. He also worried about urban enlightened public opinion. Ödmann, a member of the 1811 commission revising the 1693 service-book, worried too about the way modern fashion and language weakened liturgical substance and tone: ‘don't touch anything which belongs to [the liturgy of] public

518

A. Thomson, ‘ “Liberal”, Några anteckningar till ordets historia’, Festskrift T. Hjelmquist (Lund, 1926), 147–91.

519

Hessler, 143.

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worship and the sacraments', he warned his fellow members.520 What happened if the coercive element went? The implications of the new constitution (§ § 16, 86) worried clergy in parliament greatly, and they expressed a strong interest still in some form of censorship of textbooks and sermons. Many argued that parishioners were not educated enough yet to understand these reforms. The evidence shows us, however, if Schubert's views are correct, that they need not have worried in a country where customary parish observance was strong, and where the challenge of a lay awakening was still only a peripheral matter in 1817.

B. Prussia The opportunity to create a modern Protestant church as a tolerant constitutional Union between Lutheran and Reformed churches after abolition of the coercive, confessional state by the Code, and Heinrich vom Stein's (1757–1831) attempt, following a training in Göttingen's public law (1773–7) and experience of tolerant churchmanship in Nassau's and Westphalia's Lutheran and Reformed churchscapes, to introduce, in like manner to Montgelas and to Reitzenstein during his reforming administration (1807–9) a modern Christian statechurch—Berlin's Reformed directory (1714), and Lutheran senior consistory (1750) were replaced by a ‘Section for Worship and Education’ (1808), and Catholic church property was sequestrated (1810)—was missed after the popular celebration of common worship in Berlin on 30/1 October 1817 in which the presence of an attentive Hohenzollern royal family was noted.521 Frederick William III disregarded the plea for an up-to-date church proposed by his enlightened senior clergy, preferring instead to restore his royal authority in church affairs by using his Jus liturgicum to introduce a uniform Prussian Sunday liturgy as a way of halting a modern secular tide. The novel idea of a constitutional Union church with powers of self-government ventilated by clergy such as Sack became anathema to a pious family king with ‘Victorian’ standards of propriety, who reacted strongly to his grandfather's indifference and his father's mysticism, visible in Code and

520

‘Äro den allmänna gudstjänsten och Jesu nattvards bruk i kyrkan så beskaffade religionshandlingar, att de utan skada för religion och goda seder kunna av någon kristen försummas?’, Hessler, 161 passim ; ‘Rör inte vid det som hör till gudstjänsten och sakramenten’, (namely, the General Confession, the Confiteor, customary hymns, etc.), Wijkmark, Ödmann, 191 passim.

521

Foerster, i. ch. 4.

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Edict. He also personified a growing feature of nineteenth-century churchmanship: namely the self-taught layman interested in ecclesiology, who knew little theology, disliked theologians (especially his enlightened senior clergy), but loved the music and colour of the Catholic liturgy. During his enforced exile in Königsberg, he had warmed to the outward ritual colour of Luther's Formula Missae which had hardly been changed by Borowski's cautious liturgical reforms, and fell in love with Russian Orthodox liturgical music played by Russian army bands and choirs (Ch. 17). It was therefore predictable that on his return to Berlin in May 1814 he would be upset by the bare whitewash of Potsdam's court and garrison church, offended by the simultaneous rotation of Reformed and Lutheran public worship (different services and dress) which prevented him from communicating with his dear Lutheran wife, and hostile, owing to his experience of the French, to proposals by his enlightened senior clergy to give parishioners a say in the shape of the liturgy and parish affairs. One of his first acts was to call for a crucifix and candles to decorate the altar. This was in keeping with his previous proposal of 1810 for a clergy hierarchy and order which he had modelled on the Anglican and Swedish churches, his enforcement on 20 March 1811 of common clerical dress for the first time in Prussia, and his elevation, on 18 January 1816, of Sack in Berlin and Borowski in Königsberg to episcopal rank as ‘Bishops of the Evangelical Church’ (with Frederick I in mind), though at this time Frederick William reassured his ministers that episcopal rank was of no constitutional significance. Both Sack and Borowski used the title ‘Your Grace’ (Hochwürden), and wore silk cassocks decorated with gold pectoral crosses.522 But Frederick William's remoteness from his parish clergy and parishioners, and his subsequent amateurish attempt to impose uniform liturgical order without any regard to doctrinal and historical development, was a costly decision worthy of King Canute in an archipelago of lands which since the Reformation had divided church government between Lutheran consistory and Reformed presbytery, and the rite of public worship between Lutheran services following Luther's Formula Missae and Deutsche Messe, and the Reformed Genevan and Dutch rites: in geographic terms this was expressed as a division between the Lutheran eastern provinces,

522

Ibid. 190, 247–8.

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Silesia (1740), ‘East Prussia’ (since Polish Partition in 1772; this province still contained sizeable Reformed and Catholic minorities), almost half of Lutheran Saxony (1815), and the Reformed western Westphalian and Rhine provinces which also contained Lutheran minorities. During the subsequent collapse and renewal of the Prussian state (1806–15), religious uniformity was also a lost cause because of the failure to do anything about desperately poor parishes and parish clergy which the Code exposed. Another report, 165 folio pages (June 1815), by members of a second liturgical commission, pointed out, as had the April 1802 report (Ch. 13), that any successful reform of church order and the liturgy was dependent on an immediate improvement of parish clergy stipends.523 There were only a handful of livings in every province which fed parish clergy and their families properly. Stipends, unreformed since the sixteenth century, were far too low; medieval tithe, dependent on weather, soil, and contributions by parishioners, was an insecure form of income; there had been a significant drop in the value of occasional fees, which many Lutheran parish clergy depended on, given their meagre stipends; more recently the abolition, for economic reasons, of the immunities enjoyed by parish clergy did not help either (clergy had previously been free of taxes and burdens such as quartering soldiers). A free house coupled with the obligation to pay out of their own pockets for small repairs had become as expensive as renting a house in village or town. Several cases closer to home were cited: in the Kurmark there were ninety-three livings where vicarage and glebe brought in only 300 thalers; eighteen were below 200 thalers; only one out of ten livings in the Stendal district of the Altmark reached 350 thalers; everywhere else stipends were much lower; the poverty of clergy serving Silesian Gnadenkirchen was ‘heart-rending’ (herzzerreiβend): most could not even afford to marry. Life was even worse when clergy reached pensionable age. It was therefore natural that better-off parents did everything possible to dissuade sons from a career in the church, and that recruitment was drawn largely from poor, ‘uneducated’ circles. Clergy poverty was unfortunately present in larger towns as well: perhaps one position in twenty provided sufficient means to live tolerably. Even Berlin had few positions where an pastor did not have either to use his

523

Ibid. 319–95; condition of the clergy, ibid. 381–95.

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personal income to live, or to do a side job (schoolteaching or writing) in order to live respectably. The relationship between clergy poverty and the contempt shown by parishioners and the public in general was a very close one. In view of this, the commission proposed an average annual stipend of 400–600 thalers to support a wife and children; 600–800 thalers in larger country parishes; 800–1,000 in middling provincial towns. In large towns and cities, stipends should be commensurate with those of civil servants, since clergy were similarly dependent there on cash. Only when the question of stipends was settled would it be at all possible to introduce a suitable modern church order and liturgy. Such reports unfortunately never went beyond ministerial desks, owing to ministerial fears about what the king might say. If royal authority was similarly strong in Sweden, there was at least a procedure of sorts which related the king to his clergy in parliament, and to his bishops and diocesan cathedral chapters, and this had been recently reaffirmed in the 1809 constitution. Swedish parish clergy were also a much-respected social grouping. In Prussia though, rather than the clergy, a royal and loyal civil service fearful of their absolute royal master shaped the Protestant church after the initial promise of new Prussian constitutional arrangements in 1815 similar to those in southern Germany. Local government reform (30 April 1815) restored consistories abolished by vom Stein in 1808.524 Prussia was divided into ten provinces and twenty-five government districts, and every province was given a consistory under a lay president which included Catholic and Protestant assessors. Consistories were asked to propose a general superintendent (the title had been abolished in 1632) for each government district, though this had to wait until 1829. On 27 May 1816, annual provincial synods of clergy were introduced. The practice of retaining historic Reformation church order in extensions of territory (Silesia was the best example) was abolished in favour of national uniformity. Provincial local government powers concerning ordination, appointment, and official conduct were strengthened as if to underline the Code's principle that modern Prussian church order should be a matter of state; but such modernity was illusory, given the royal prerogative. The autumn of 1817 was significant for strengthening the royal

524

Ibid. 249 passim ; Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, i. 118 passim.

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prerogative. Senior clergy and ministers (the open-minded generation of 1794) were replaced by royalist successors, and ministers who were more concerned with an educative state than with Protestant church affairs. Sack's successor was the pliant royalist court chaplain (from 1806), Rulemann Eylert (1770–1852); Humboldt, the new Minister for Church Affairs and Education, was succeeded by Altenstein, a Fichtean and Hegelian, who was interested, like his predecessor, in a modern Prussian education system, but who approved more of royal authority as an instrument advancing Prussia's moral leadership in Germany.525 His twenty-three years of office were notable—no doubt inter alia to preserve some freedom of action in the pursuance of his educational ideals—for his compliance with his royal master's conservative wishes in religious affairs. Altenstein, after all, appointed stalwart Lutherans such as Tholuck to Berlin (1823) and enlightened Halle (1829), Augusti to Bonn (1819), Wilhelm Hengstenberg (1802–69) to Berlin (1826) as successor to tolerant Wilhelm Martin Leberecht de Wette (1780–1849) (de Wette had beeen sacked in 1819 for writing a letter of condolence to the mother of Karl Sand, the unfortunate assassin of the writer Kotzebue), and Hermann Olshausen (1796–1839) to Königsberg in 1827; and it was Altenstein who tried to enforce his master's placet over Protestant consistory and synod and Prussia's new Catholic diocesan order of 1821. These changes in personnel unfortunately also took place in the unsettled political climate of the Wartburg student gathering, a growing sense of Reformed synodal self-identity in Westphalia and in the Rhineland, and the beginnings of a Neo-Lutheran revival which condemned the Enlightenment and Union as inimical to the Lutheran articles of faith. It was a climate which depressed the king even further. Altenstein, no friend of political clergy, kept reports on what clergy discussed at synods away from the royal desk. The already very limited chance of a new constitutional order evaporated: synods (except in the Reformed Rhineland and Westphalia) came to a quiet end in 1822. Instead, Frederick William's amateur liturgical interest in the remnants of the Catholic Ordinary and Proper began to dictate official church policy. The first royal liturgical draft (15 February 1815) was notable for the way Frederick William took the ‘Catholic’ parts he liked from

525

Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, i. 284–6.

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his forefathers (Joachim II's 1540 liturgy, and Berlin's 1717 official prayer formulae) and linked them to an English version of the Anglican liturgy (1767), which Bishop Jablonski had used for his liturgical proposals a century earlier. Frederick William's main Sunday service was thus Catholic in ritual colour: the first part before a half-hour sermon was virtually a choral service conducted from the choir by the priest (facing the altar) and a cappella choir (no women) alone; there followed the Apostolic Creed spoken by the priest with a response by the choir; congregational participation was reduced to three hymns. Liturgical decoration consisted of an altar covered by a parament (tables were to be covered with a ‘decent’ altar cloth) on which were placed a crucifix, two burning candles, and a Bible. Altar pictures were ordered to be scenes of the Last Supper, and other pictures scenes from the New Testament.526 The royal rite's unpopular informal introduction in 1816–17 to Potsdam's court and garrison church, and to Berlin's garrison church, and in provincial centres such as Greifswald, Stettin, or Königsberg, (it occasioned a flood of liturgical tracts (191 were counted officially)) was reminiscent of the row which followed Bastholm's proposal in Copenhagen in 1795 and Adler's in Schleswig and Holstein in 1798, and was really a foretaste of the lengthier struggle to come in the decade 1820–30. Further research thereafter in the royal library into the Catholic liturgical structure of Luther's Formula Missae, the Swedish 1811 rite available in Schubert's recent German-language survey of the Swedish church, and that of the Russian Orthodox church led Frederick William to revise his rite (Kirchenagende), though its liturgical structure of Sunday worship remained much the same. He authorized it for military worship at Christmas 1821, and for the court and cathedral in 1822.527 Schubert, in a letter (18 June 1822) to Wilhelm Faxe, bishop of Lund (1811–54), thought the order of service in the Swedish (1811) and Prussian (1822) rites very similar, as were the rubrics for confirmation, marriage, burial, sick communion,

526

Liturgie für die Hof- und Garnisons-Gemeinde zu Potsdam und für die Garnisons-Kirche in Berlin (Berlin, 1816); Herbst, Quellen, 167–86; TRE, 56–8, s.v. ‘Agende’; Förster, i. 231 passim, 401–3; ii. 56–7.

527

Kirchenagende für die königlich Preuβische Armee (Berlin, 1821); Kirchenbuch nebst einem Katechismus und einer Sammlung biblischen Sprüche und Gebete zur häuslichen Andacht und Erbauung für die königlich Preuβische Armee (Berlin, 1822; sixteens); Kirchenagende für die Hof- und Domkirche in Berlin, 2nd edn. (Berlin, 1822); Foerster, ii. 58 passim, 70–2.

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and the litany. Frederick William had also, rather ominously, taken over, almost word for word, the lengthy ordination formula, and the passages on oaths contained in Sweden's Caroline Church Law.528 It was a sign of his intention to speak in liturgicis as a way of enforcing liturgical uniformity against clergy and parishioners who defended their local liturgies, and the definition of a modern Protestant collegiate will by Prussia's modern canon lawyers. Typical was Frederick William's reaction to Badenese Union in the previous July. He voiced his approval to Altenstein (in April 1822) of the way a minister of state had summoned a Badenese synod of Reformed and Lutheran clergy. This, he argued, was the way forward; a Prussian uniform liturgy would never be introduced if he had to wait for all his clergy (some 6,000) and parishes to agree to his words of institution. On the other hand, he wished to avoid Badenese constitutional use of the phrase ‘Protestant Church’ (§ 1), since he associated it with the Enlightenment and political representation. ‘Evangelical’ was better as an adjective expressing subscription to Bible and Gospel (he had ordered ‘Evangelical’ to replace ‘Protestant’ in official correspondence on 3 April 1821).529 Thus a further opportunity to modernize Prussia's Protestant church (combine poor livings, tidy up anomalous parish boundaries, close down churches beyond repair, rationalize pastoral work in parishes containing several chapels of ease, and modernize ritual) was missed. Plans to do this worked out by senior clergy in September 1822 never saw the light of day. What followed was a colossal muddle, and ultimate disaster for the king. Only some 6 per cent of Prussia's clergy showed themselves ready to accept. In 1823, Frederick William therefore returned to Anglican and Swedish forms of hierarchy, as a way of enforcing the Union and his rite, in spite of opposition from Altenstein and other ministers who feared the challenge of episcopal muscle at a time when a new Catholic diocesan structure was appearing, and in a Prussian churchscape with vocal Reformed majorities in her western provinces, and in many Reformed parishes in West and East Prussia. Grudging clergy and parishioners were forced year by year to accept. On 1 January 1826, the royalist general superintendents of two of the towns most hostile to the royal rite, Stettin and Magdeburg, were

528

Helander, ‘Svenska kyrkohandboken 1811 och preussiska agendan 1822’, Från skilda tider: Studier tillägn Hjalmar Holmquist (1938), 229 passim.

529

Foerster, ii. 32–3.

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appointed bishops (significantly without any change in powers, or rise in salary); thereafter a handful of royalist bishops were installed in other hostile dioceses and, on 5 May 1829, Prussia's chief liturgical reformer, Borowski, was appointed archbishop at the ripe old age of 89. But in all these cases appointment with the right man was not easy without a significant rise in salary. It became a problem when the first bishop of Stettin died on 18 September 1826, eight months after his appointment. Frederick William proposed, for the new post of bishop of Pomerania, Dresden's senior court chaplain (1813–49), Christoph Friedrich von Ammon (1766–1850), a great scholar, fine preacher, and staunch Lutheran critic of Union, since he strongly disapproved of the ministerial candidate, the liberal patriot, Heinrich Gottlob Tzschirner (1778–1828), senior of St Thomas and superintendent of the Leipzig diocese since 1815, as ‘much too modern’. But Ammon refused in February 1827, preferring the 4,000 thalers' stipend he earned in Leipzig to a mere 2,500 thalers earmarked for this new post. As happened all too often, a third candidate, another king's man, Karl Benjamin Ritschl (1783–1858), Albrecht Ritschl's father, was eventually appointed on 27 August 1827. It was a good decision. Karl Ritschl, a gifted musical son of Erfurt, who was taught organ, piano, and singing by the last of Bach's pupils, Johann Christian Kittel (1732–1809; the noted organist of Erfurt's Predigerkirche from 1762), and a pastor at St Mary's, Berlin (1810–28), did much to raise the tone of church music, sermons, and pastoral care in post-war Berlin, and during his long period of office as the bishop of Pomerania (1828–54) which was remembered with great affection by his clergy. The new rite (Agende, 1832, this following closely the 1811 Swedish rite) for Lutheran congregations in the Russian empire was also largely the product of Ritschl's work at St Petersburg (September 1829–May 1830) as adviser to the commission which drafted Russia's Lutheran church order of the same year.530 Hierarchy proved useless. Prussia's poor Lutheran parish clergy and parishes were not ready for religious uniformity. Many parish clergy feared, for instance, a loss in occasional fees which the Union and liturgy implied, since this was not customary amongst Reformed clergy who earned better stipends. Frederick hastily set up the first proper fund (100,000 thalers) for the improvement of clergy stipends

530

Ibid. 217–18; RE, s.v. ‘Ritschl, Georg Karl Benjamin’.

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in July 1823. Others followed: in 1824, to help poor parishes maintain churches, vicarages, and school buildings, and in 1829, to improve clergy pensions. Endowment became an issue; a policy of ad hoc financial support of the Protestant church dependent on the health of state finances lasted into the 1850s. The average parishioner often saw Union and its uniform liturgy as a change of doctrine. In Lutheran Stralsund, most parishioners had no idea of what intercommunion with the Reformed church meant: clergy feared that parishioners would stay away from parish communion. In West Prussia—where extremely poor Lutheran country parishes served by parish churches resembling barns and sheep-folds still coexisted with Catholic stone parish churches equipped with towers and bells—parish choirs, chanting, exorcism at baptism, and the signing of the cross were seen as Catholic. Theodor von Schön, the governor (1814–43), who began a crash programme in which the state funded church maintenance and building (some twenty-three churches were refurbished or built at the expense of creating new parishes), knew he faced an uphill task.531 On 2 May 1826 Frederick William was therefore forced to give a public assurance that the Union and his liturgy did not signify any doctrinal change: that this was not sufficient reason for leaving the home parish, and that a new parish division could only be carried out with the agreement of parishioners under the supervision of the civil authorities. The division of Protestant Prussia between Reformed western provinces (Westphalia and Rhine) which supported the Union but rejected the royal liturgy, and Lutheran provinces such as East Prussia, Silesia, and Prussian Saxony, which rejected both the Union and the royal liturgy, became marked. Public debate after 1822, which Frederick William wilfully set aside in 1817 as mere ‘gossip’, really forced church authorities for the first time to make an accurate historical assessment of Prussian liturgical diversity. Consistories were officially ordered to record (27 November 1824) local liturgical development since the Reformation. They were amazed at the variety they found.532 In East Prussia, the substance of the Catholic Ordinary and Proper

531

Niedner, Ausgaben des preussischen Staats für die evangelische Landeskirche, Kirchengeschichte Danzig und Westpreuβen, ii. 19–21.

532

Foerster, i. 246; ii. 121–5; Aust, Agendenreform in der evangelischen Kirche Schlesiens, 52–72.

180–2; Heyden, Die Kirchen Stralsunds und ihre Geschichte

(Berlin, 1961), 268–70; Neumeyer,

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was retained in the Preuβische Kirchenagende of 1741 (reissued in 1780 and 1789), which followed the liturgy contained in ducal Prussia's church order of 1568 modelled on Duke Henry's Saxon rite (1539); authorities also noted the recent custom of using other liturgies, or ones composed by parish clergy themselves. West Prussia also followed the Prussian liturgy (1789 edition), and the town liturgies of Danzig (1708, reissued 1753) and Elbing (1767), and prayer formulae issued by Danzig's city council (1811). In the Pomeranias, Lutherans in the Prussian half used an order of 1568 (usually as an abridged service-book published in 1769); in the former Swedish half no specific provincial liturgical order had developed after the Reformation, but Stralsund used a collection of addresses and prayers authorized by the city council (1795); elsewhere an unauthorized little service-book (1797) composed by general superintendent Gottlieb Schlegel (1739–1810) was very popular. Schlegel (born at Königsberg), a noted Livonian clergy reformer, who had been summoned in 1790 from Riga to Greifswald by Gustavus III to reform Swedish-Pomeranian church order, had caused a public outcry with this enlightened catechism (1792) and modern hymn-book (1796). Brandenburg used the Brandenburg-Nuremberg liturgy (1540) and subsequent revisions; further information was not forthcoming because archival compilation was too poor to permit any accurate appraisal. In all these provinces listed above, Reformed parishes used the official Prussian Reformed prayer formulae (Kirchengebete, 1705), and the Reformed rite (Agende, 1717), or left the choice open to the minister and urban presbyteries. In embattled Silesia, in areas where Lutheran churches were allowed to be built, the Confessio Augustana remained the only norm; most congregations used Duke Henry's conservative Saxon liturgy (1539). An earlier report (February 1817) showed too that the Catholic hours, Ordinary, and Proper survived. In Breslau, early Sunday Mattins began at 5 a.m. and lasted three hours; the main Sunday morning service beginning at 9 a.m. likewise lasted three hours, even without parish communion; the afternoon service (Vespers) beginning at 1 p.m., lasted two hours. In country parishes, chanting by the clergyman, parish choirs, and church music (Kirchenmusik) lasting about twenty minutes between a chanted Epistle and Gospel were also usual. Vestments were still worn in town and country churches. Much to the joy of musical Silesian parishioners, the local revised edition of the royal liturgy (1829) allowed, in addition to several

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liturgical concessions, this Kirchenmusik, the instrumental accompaniment of the Kyrie, and arias and recitatives sung after the Creed to continue. In Prussian Saxony, Duke Henry's liturgy obviously prevailed, though after 1750 much was left to a parish clergyman's choice. Enlightened revisions began to be included such as the Heidelberg liturgy (1783), and Adler's liturgy for Schleswig and Holstein (1798). Some fourteen liturgies at least were in official use. In Prussia's Reformed western provinces governed by the consistories of Koblenz, Cologne, and Münster, freedom of liturgical choice based on local Reformed orders (also those of little enclaves absorbed by Prussian territorial extension) and the simple liturgy of the Word contained in the Genevan rite continued. The same freedom of choice was true of Lutheran parishes in these provinces. Also synods and town consistories had recently introduced their own modern versions. The saying was widespread that, ‘Most preachers possess no liturgical formularies; parishioners demand that frankly.’ In a more general way, too, a widespread public mood throughout Prussia thought liturgical change unnecessary. An accustomed Sunday order of service whose substance consisted of a congregational hymn, a reading from scripture, sermon, general prayers (parish communion on designated Sundays), and blessing, united most Prussians in town and country, despite wide variations in the detail of liturgical usage. Frederick William realized at the tercentenary of the Augsburg Confession that he had clearly misjudged the attachment of parishioners to local church order, and misunderstood the Code's resultant intention to take account of parochial liturgical wishes (§§ 46–8). The years 1822–30 had shown, for the first time in Prussian history, a massive public debate about the royal Jus liturgicum. Even someone of another persuasion, the poet and writer, Heinrich Heine (1797–1856), had written to a friend in 1822 about the royal rite's introduction at Berlin as being the talk of the town: that he preferred not to commit himself to print for fear of producing a massive book on the subject.533 Frederick William had to acknowledge parishioners who showed that local observances could be successfully defended. The clock could not turn backwards. Many clergy and parishioners voiced strong disapproval of the king's re-Catholicizing tendency: that he had failed to see the historic

533

Ohst, Schleiermacher und die Bekenntnisschriften, 96.

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liturgical differences of his scattered provinces; that his preface introduced a uniform liturgy which Luther and the Reformers had not intended; that country and town had gone their separate ways since the Reformation. There was a new public awareness too that doctrinal and liturgical expression developed with time. Catholic elements like exorcism, signing of the cross, altar paraments, confession of sins at the beginning of the service, and the exclusion of congregational hymns were anachronisms which went against Reformation principles and liturgical development thereafter.534 It was impossible to distinguish between liturgical and doctrinal questions. Many felt that Frederick William had seen Luther only as a legislator, and the late sixteenth century as a period when doctrine and ritual were made ‘binding’ in law: the German Reformation, so modern canon lawyers like Eichhorn and Richter argued, stood alone for ecclesia semper reformanda. There was much practical criticism too. Underpaid parish clergy who had often to officiate in the many chapels of ease had little time for a formal liturgy; most Lutheran village parishes were anyway not equipped with choirs to sing the liturgy, and they were usually too poor and backward to start a choral tradition. In the end a compromise of sorts was reached. An appendix to the royal rite issued for Pomerania in 1826, which took account of Pomeranian liturgical practice (since 1563), and the inclusion of new parallel liturgical formulae in 1827, became the model for future liturgical usage which recognized provincial liturgical diversity. Frederick William's revised Agende published in 1830 was also never enforced. Beyond the preface, big concessions were made to local usages which included a summary for the use of Reformed parishes (Auszug aus der Liturgie). Much was also left open to the choice of Reformed and Lutheran parish clergy. It was a liturgical order which remained in use until two further revisions in 1856 and 1895. On the other hand, a massive pile of paper had accumulated by 1830 on the state of the Prussian church. Altenstein sighed (13 May 1828), ‘to command is easy, but to convert is difficult, and the introduction of the new liturgy is a true process of conversion: a conversion of the very worst kind [und zwar eine Bekehrung vom Verkehrtesten]’, about a pile of paperwork which he had never imagined when he accepted

534

‘Catholicism, Catholicism! So ist auch hier von mehreren Geistlichen geschrien’, Borowski to Theodor von Schön, 16 Aug. 1822, Neumeyer, ii. 9.

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office.535 But, in the long run, Prussian public controversy over Frederick William's liturgy was seminal in fashioning a new historical understanding of Protestant German liturgical development since the Reformation. This helped to shape a modern liturgical movement pioneered ironically enough by historically minded Neo-Lutherans in opposition to Lutheran and Reformed inter-communion in the decades 1840–60. In Prussia, however, the liturgy of public worship remained a political matter. Its attempted enforcement via bishops produced in the longer term a complex Erastian landesherrliche Kirchenregiment under Adalbert Falk (1827–1900) and Wilhelm Hoffmann (1806–73) during the so-called Kulturkampf (1871–80). Protestant Prussian parish clergy suffered most of all. They were reduced simply to a subordinate role by kings and senior civil servants who had little time for theology. Since Frederick William's cabinet order of 12 April 1822, parish clergy were closely supervised in what they preached (Lehrart) by new disciplinary powers given to consistories (§ 533 of the Code was simply abolished). The Code's collegialism was painted thereafter in ever darker colours. A Metternichian fear of democracy continued to rule a church in which parish clergy were walled up against the lay principle.

C. Bavaria It would be misleading to assume that Prussian Union caused modern Protestant development in Germany. In Catholic Bavaria, a modern Christian church was established and shaped by the principles of utility and toleration in various acts of state passed between 1801 and 1818. These provided a constitutional framework in a way that the Brandenburg-Prussian Code had failed to do. Union based solely on the New Testament and freedom of conscience, introduced in August 1818 to the Bavarian Palatinate by a general synod of Lutheran and Reformed clergy and laymen at Kaiserslautern, and endorsed by the Bavarian king, as an opportunity to modernize Reformation church order, looked promising too. A new state created by Montgelas and a like-minded king, Maximilian Joseph (1756–1825) after 1792, allowed nonCatholics (anderer Religionsverwandten) to settle in Bavaria and enjoy the benefits of full citizenship (1801). In 1812, the number of Protestant parishes had increased to 600 (643,890; in 1818, Protestant 25.18%,

535

Foerster, ii. 165.

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Catholic 72.10%).536 Minister and king realized that a restoration of the Catholic church would have wrecked this new order. Confessional intolerance was called repugnant to Christian teaching, to reason, usefulness, and ‘progress of culture’ in states. Protestant immigration meant that the government of Protestant citizens had to be addressed. This was enacted under French eyes (1806) with a centralist constitution which secured religious toleration in the basic rights and liberties of Bavarian subjects. The Brandenburg-Prussian Code's collegialism, and the tolerant ecclesiastical policy of vom Stein prevailed: Lutheran and Reformed churches were put on equal terms in staffing and procedure in a special ecclesiastical department of state (Sektion der kirchlichen Gegenstände) equivalent to a Senior Consistory supervised by the Ministry of the Interior. But the Catholic Bavarian state, governed by a Wittelsbach king as Landesherr with episcopal powers, retained, like the Protestant Prussian state, a competence to supervise what Protestant clergy and schoolmasters taught, and it had the final say in liturgical matters. Munich was thus faced too with the question of how best to relate province to centre. Bavarian circumstance forced king and ministers to recognize old corporate bodies and habits. An edict (March 1809) created district church commissioners with advisers over deaneries approved by a general consistory seated in Munich. These commissioners held the same rank and wore the same uniform as civil servants, and were given a wide remit concerning doctrine, public worship, ordination, and visitation, and as ombudsmen cooling tempers in squabbles between parish clergy and parishioners. Business was finalized in a so-called Konsistorialordnung (September 1809) which treated Protestant clergy as public servants (Organe der Kirchenaufsicht § 17). Typical too was the language of codification which stressed the need for religious peace and order. Munich's senior consistory was even obliged to make annual reports on the moral and religious complexion of parishes, to ensure that no disturbance of religious peace took place (§§ 66–71), and to refer bad cases to the civil courts (§ 70). Like the Brandenburg-Prussian Code, Bavarian consistorial order exposed for the first time the very poor unreformed economy of the Lutheran church in Franconia, and the Reformed and Lutheran churches in the Rhine Palatinate (poorly endowed church property; paltry stipends and occasional fees), and established for the first time orderly procedures of parish registration (§§ 72–3, 81–3).

536

Beck, Bayern, 4–5, 196–7.

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But, as with Prussia, reform did little to help clergy pay. A majority of Bavarian Lutheran clergy were unable to provide adequately for their families before the 1860s (c.1850, 39% of 878 Lutheran livings in Bavaria right of the Rhine produced stipends worth less than 600 florins).537 The new conservative confederal order of 1815, notably the dismissal of Montgelas in February 1817, made it easier to link these modern constitutional arrangements with custom and tradition. Bavaria's constitution (May 1818) in its preamble explicitly stated the state's intention to observe ‘freedom of conscience, and [make] the conscientious distinction and protection of that which belonged to the State and the Church’. Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed churches were included in Bavarian basic law (Grundrecht), and subject to parliament as an institutional guarantor of Christian fair play. The substance of the 1809 church constitution was included as an appendix with a particular emphasis on Protestant self-government as a constitutional right (§ 28). Bavaria's Protestant church was granted the right to legislate as a public corporation. A liberal tone was thus more apparent in this constitution than in the Prussian constitutional arrangements of 1815–17; also in detail such as that concerning simultaneous arrangements (§§ 90–103), and in a provision such as the ringing of bells for all Christian burials (§ 103). Perhaps this was easier to enact in a state with a clear Catholic majority. But reality was always rather different from constitutional prose. The supplement to the constitution regulating the Bavarian Protestant Gesammtgemeinde rather than ‘church’, expressed the difficulty a German ruler, Bavaria's Catholic king, had in recognizing another Christian confession a year after the new Bavarian concordat (June 1817). However, many petitions, notably those of the provincial Lutheran synods of Ansbach and Bayreuth, eventually persuaded Maximilian I, in contrast to Frederick William III in 1822, to grant on 18 October 1824 the use of the ‘more suitable and estimable term, “Protestant Church” [passendere und würdigere “Protestantische Kirche”]’.538 On paper, Maximilian and his ministers accepted a fair degree of Protestant self-government in a church run by the senior consistory at Munich, and the provincial consistories of Ansbach, Bayreuth, and Speyer, supplemented in 1838 by a

537

Magen, Protestantische Kirche und Politik in Bayern, 148–61.

538

Huber and Huber (eds.), Staat und Kirche, i. 655–6.

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Protestant Munich deanery. However, too much of a Protestant say in a Catholic monarchy was checked by the concordat which had improved relations between Munich and Rome; a new king, Ludwig I (1825–48), who wished to restore monarchical absolutism (in 1836 he ordered the use of the phrase ‘government of the king’ to replace Staatsregierung, and the substitution of ‘subject’, Untertan, for Staatsbürger); and such attitudes as that of a leading minister, Karl von Abel (1788–1859), who was interested in fostering Catholic revival during his ministry (1837–47). It seemed that Ludwig I, like Frederick William III, also forgot, to the detriment of his Protestant church, ‘who he was and what century he lived in’.539 On 15 August 1818, there followed the constitutional and doctrinal fusion of Lutherans and Protestants in what became known in 1837 as the Rhine Palatinate (Rheinkreis, or Überrheinische Provinz remained in use until 1816). This covered territory (Kurpfalz and Zweibrücken) governed until the revolutionary period (1789–1806) by forty-four princelings, and which mixed almost equal percentages of Lutheran and Reformed parishes. Common nomenclature was thus as difficult to define as in Prussia. But, in contrast to Prussian denominational distance, denominational neighbourhood dictated a tradition of live-and-let-live. In 1816 there were 252 Protestant parishes (120 Lutheran; 112 Reformed). Seventy-four, or almost every third parish, had as a direct neighbour a sister Reformed or Lutheran church.540 This meant that parishioners were bound to mix public worship and family rites of birth, marriage, and burial. Tolerance in religious matters also grew in a landscape which had experienced too much toing and froing of troops in the eighteenth century. The semblance of peace had existed for only some fifteen years after the end of the Seven Years' War. In the German Protestant churchscape of church orders and rites, proximity of these little states and towns to Strasburg, Geneva, and Zurich implied an open view in doctrinal matters. French cultural influence was also extensive. Parish clergy and parishioners took what they liked from different church orders and rites. Statutory order was not taken very seriously. The hold of sixteenth-century articles of faith had become very weak already by c.1750. It survived literally as the vellum-bound inventory of churches and vicarages which had been lucky enough to survive the caprice of war.

539

Veit Valentin, cited Sheehan, German History 1770 –1866, 632.

540

Müller, Vorgeschichte der pfälzischen Union, 56.

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Coexistence, and circumstance such as the continued threat of a Catholic Reconquista, or a French secular religion after 1789, more than any Enlightenment theory, forced clergy and parishioners into thinking about a church order and liturgy which suited the times: how to balance an understanding of confession, liturgical tradition, and canon law with times that inevitably brought new expressions of faith. More important was an attention to Scripture. Carl Friedrich Bahrdt (1741–92), for instance, briefly superintendent and senior at Durkheim (1776–8), preferred to observe the milder ‘Bible alone’ Leiningen-Westerburg church order (1722). Even Luther's Little Catechism and the Reformed Heidelberg Catechism were seen in a looser sense, given the inevitable mass of official and private catechisms in areas with many little courts and towns. The new Reformed Catechism for the Electoral Palatinate (1804) used the Heidelberg Catechism with a modern explanation, emphasizing the need for understanding and interpretation rather than learning by rote. Soteriological terms such as ‘blessed’ and ‘blessedness’ (selig, Seligkeit) were replaced by ‘happiness’ (Glückseligkeit). An optimistic interpretation of New Testament ethics became the substance of every question and answer. Zweibrucken's new catechism (1810) was modelled on Berlin's revised catechism (1790) which followed Christ's teaching in the Sermon on the Mount. A common liturgy was also easier to introduce in the Rhine Palatinate than in Prussia with its larger and more sharply defined Lutheran liturgical areas. Despite big local variation most parish churches used the simple south-German main service with a sermon (Predigtgottesdienst). Its relatively simple liturgical structure was obviously suited to the Reformed service. The period 1770–1800, here as elsewhere, was a time when clergy looked at the shape of the liturgy. Questionnaires were issued by the Electoral Palatinate's Lutheran (1774) and Reformed (1783) consistories to find out what rites were in use. The official rite of the Electoral Palatinate (Kurpfalz, 1577) and a dozen or so more, existed as a result of custom, choice, availability, or whims of local princes. Parishes often used several. The incumbent of Neckargemund (1764–1834) recorded that his predecessor had torn out pages of Frankfurt's church order (which remained unspecific), and used prayers from a Hessian Marburg hymn-book. The outcome of this liturgical survey was the extremely influential (see Ch. 13) Lutheran Heidelberg liturgy (known as the Kurpfalz liturgy, 1783) composed

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by the Mannheim clergyman, Karl Benjamin List (1725–1801).541 Novel was the fact that ordination vows were conceived of as neutral in a confessional sense; the main Sunday parish service with sermon no longer contained a fixed liturgy, or was reminiscent of the formal structure given by the Ordinary and Proper: the sermon was to be preached simply and clearly (rein und lauter) in the sense of early Luther. Choice and variety were seen as more important than fixed liturgical formulae. It also put a heavy emphasis on making congregational prayers comprehensible, and there was an absence of ceremonial enrichment, fitting for its environment of the simple southGerman service with a sermon. Its undogmatic simplicity was a major reason why it became loved by many parish clergy in south-western Germany. It was reprinted unchanged both in 1815 and in 1824 following the palatinate's inclusion in the Bavarian Protestant church. The year 1818 therefore really set a constitutional seal on the development of an informal parish service (called, in line with Enlightened thinking, ‘veneration of God’ (Gottesverehrung, § 11)) centred on congregational hymns and texts for Epistle, Gospel, and sermon which left much to the choice of the parish clergyman. This had evolved quite naturally during the troubled eighteenth century and had been taken into account already in a liturgy such as the Kurpfalz's of 1783. If the average householder and parson by and large endorsed this new neutrality in church, what was branded as a growing secularism, Unkirchlichkeit, allegedly visible in the liberal gathering at Hambach in 1832, began a thirty years' war with Munich's senior consistory over the third paragraph of 1818 which had left out the Old Testament and the articles of faith composed by the Reformers in favour of a church based on the New Testament alone. It also caused a gathering conviction amongst several senior clergy that modern secularism had to be countered by a return to the Reformers. Only then could precision be given to the word ‘Protestant’.542

541

Lutheran parishes were so poor they had to borrow cash for its publication and distribution: Graff, Auflösung, ii. 20; Müller, 57 and 88 passim ; Jung, Geschichte des evangelischen Gottesdienstes in der Pfalz, i. 148 passim.

542

Bonkhoff, Geschichte der Vereinigten Protestantisch-Evangelisch-Christlichen Kirche der Pfalz, 33 passim ; text of 1818 Union, and controversial § 3, ‘Die protestantisch-evangelischchristliche Kirche erkennt auβer dem Neuen Testament nichts anderes für eine Norm ihres Glaubens’, and § 4 ‘Die bisherigen, streitigen Lehrpunkte sind, nach wohlerwogenen Gründen, durch eine den klaren Aussprüchen des Evangeliums gemäβe Ansicht beseitigt worden’, ibid. 145–59.

15 Awakening I. Pastoral Failure A broad religious awakening (Erweckung; Danish: vækkelse; Swedish: väckelse) in German lands (amongst Lutherans and the Reformed) and in Lutheran Scandinavia (c.1780–1850) is inconceivable without the gradual disruption of the communal parish order of dependent relationships in village, township, and home town dating back to medieval times by state legislation reforming the land and guilds in one modernizing state after another, and a practical Christian schooling of parishioners by a parish clergy generation of Pietist and enlightened persuasion, and by Moravian emissaries. This was the prominent local feature of the reorganization of Protestant states and their established churches after 1770. The scale of this awakening—eighteenth-century popular piety pales by comparison—had, therefore, much to do with a reaction against the successful application of enlightened principles in government, in consistories, in university law and theology faculties, and in vicarages. But ironically, almost everywhere, parishioners still used to the unhurried customary Christian year of Reformation church order and the vivid language of religious instruction and devotion contained in seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century hymn-books, prayer-books, and catechisms rejected this modern language of worship. It was as if, in the inclement climate of economic individualism, enlightened parish clergy (in office until c.1840) were in the end too zealous with the use of reasonable speech. The visitation diaries (1835–53) of Jakob Peter Mynster (1775–1854), bishop of Sjælland after 1834, spanning the Danish lay awakening and Denmark's modern 1849 constitution, which introduced a constitutional People's Church (Folkekirke), show clearly a growing gap of understanding between a generation of parish clergy in office, who taught Copenhagen university's enlightened practical theology and questioned the relevance of Denmark's old church-state order (which Mynster approved of), and

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awakened parishioners, who preferred the hymns, devotional books, and homily of an earlier age.543 Free inquiry, and the replacement of the Ordinary and Proper in Luther's Sunday liturgy with freer liturgical forms surrounding a ‘useful’ sermon at a time of more relaxed religious censorship, weakened considerably the unquestioned authority of an established church. The enlightened view of the parish clergyman as a parishioner amongst parishioners subject to the same rights of citizenship, brought the clergyman closer to parish homes, but it nevertheless lowered the standing of the office (Amt) in the eyes of his flock. Propagation of a new civic-minded ethics by parish clergy exposed the separate spheres of voluntary charity, and the parlous statutory parish care provided by an under-endowed Reformation established church, made visible to public scrutiny for the first time since the Reformation by modern surveys and legal codification. Parishioners in these very poor rural and urban parishes, who faced a new and uncertain post-war world after 1815, felt that their medieval parish no longer served their religious needs and welfare. To take the Gospel into their own hands (in Catholic Germany too) was to search for a new spiritual home. Voluntary churchmanship was coming of age. If there was a particular issue at the heart of the awakening, it was this growing conflict about the relevance of the parish clergyman and what he taught as a man who remained still very close to the official world as the learned leader of the parish (despite a new emphasis on practical help at a time of university curricula reform), and the plight of his spiritually distressed flock. An inherited academic training and its hierarchical way of thinking changed much more slowly than the will to reform. The theology faculty remained the first faculty in precedence: it was considered an honour to have studied there, even if one went into public service, or into a profession such as schoolteaching. Enlightened theologians still handed down (tradere) Christian teaching which they bracketed with public service. Recruitment from within the clergy continued. Most who studied theology at Halle in the 1820s were sons of clergymen (72–80%), and matriculation lists (1768–1822) in all subjects showed

543

Mynster's saying connecting a lay awakening with these hard times, ‘Det er Menneskets Lod i Verden, at hans Kræfter skulle vækkes i Nød og Trang’, C. Molbech, Dansk Ordbog, (1833), ii. 680, s.v. ‘Vække’. Kornerup (ed.), J. P. Mynsters visitatsdagbøger 1825 –1853, i. pp. l–liv, lvii–lxii.

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that clergy families supplied more students than any other social group (1768–71: 27.8%; 1820–2: 26%).544 Schubert noted in Lund (1815–20) sons of clergy supplying 25 per cent of students; in Copenhagen (1830), it was as high as 50 per cent in a student body of 1,000.545 Thus modern theology, especially in Protestant Germany, also served to strengthen this gap between parish clergy and their poor flock. Enlightened theology (criticism of the Bible as a source, and exposure of the articles of the faith as man-made documents) put in question the parish clergyman's vocation to teach his congregation the Bible as truth, and made him question an undeviating loyalty to local Reformation church order. How did he remain faithful to a university oath to uphold biblical truth and promote the faith of the land, while conducting free inquiry? These questions touched the Old Testament, which had so much to do, in a customary parish order, with Mosaic crime and punishment (talion), and was loved in homes in which the books of the Apocrypha were also used to tell adventures, stories, and daily wisdom. Emissaries of the British and Foreign Bible Society (1804) found that printing cheap Bibles without the uncanonical books was a risky business in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia. The Clydesider, John Paterson, who supervised enthusiastically the printing of such Bibles by the Swedish Bible Society (1814), encountered such great dissatisfaction that the Society was forced to print 10,000 separate Apocrypha; even Münter, the enlightened historian of Christian doctrine, Mynster's predecessor as bishop of Sjælland (1808–30), told Dr Pinkerton, during his visit to Copenhagen in the summer of 1828, that he was strongly opposed in the customary environment of Danish dioceses to the printing and distribution of Bibles without the uncanonical books.546 These were questions which divided the clergy themselves. Who taught Old Testament, if modern scholarship was interested more and more in its linguistic and historical interpretation? Liberal Göttingen had, for example, transferred history and exegesis of the Old Testament to its philosophical faculty in 1804. The question of how far one could go without incurring the wrath of the authorities in church and state became the subject of a series of heated university

544

Conrad, German Universities in the Last Fifty Years, 61–3, 104; Københavns universitet, v. 325.

545

Schubert, Reise, i. 359.

546

Canton, History of the British & Foreign Bible Society, i. 336, 453; ‘Apocrypha Controversy’, ibid. ch. 17.

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debates after 1815 about what could, or could not be taught about the Bible and articles of faith. It was very difficult in a university order where the prerogatives of theology faculties were jealously guarded, and where the distinction was still made before 1840, not without a little charm for a historian today, that members of the philosophical faculty were allowed to lecture on the historical and poetical books of the Bible, but only men holding a degree in theology could lecture on the Prophets. An ordinand's university training was clearly still too theological and, after enlightened teaching and university reform, too modern. On the other hand, a training in pastoral theology of the practical kind called for by reformers such as Spalding—consisting of homiletic seminars teaching ordinands how to preach, conduct catechism, and counsel parishioners—was only just beginning as the new discipline, ‘Practical (or Pastoral) Theology’, at Dorpat (1802), Göttingen (1810), Kiel (1814), Heidelberg (1819), Berlin (1821), Tübingen (1825), and Halle (1828), at Åbo (1803), at Uppsala (1806, theological seminary founded by Ödmann) and Lund (1809), and in Copenhagen (Det kongelige Pastoralseminarium, 1809). In Sweden the authority of the cathedral chapters in diocesan clergy training was therefore weakened considerably; in Lund by university legislation in 1831. Timing was similar in Catholic Germany, given the need after 1806 to start afresh.547 But good pastoral intentions made little headway. At Copenhagen in 1830 it was clear that new university statutes (1788), a more professional final examination (1789), and this new pastoral training had not improved the pastoral quality of Danish ordinands. Ordinands and the public equated Copenhagen with boring lectures which were of little relevance to parishes, and increasingly with teachers who loved free-thought for its own sake. Münter, for instance, complained bitterly in November 1810 that only one student had attended his lectures on the doctrine of the Early Church in the previous summer term, and no one had come to his lectures on the Augsburg Confession. Münter's enlightened colleagues also failed, it seemed, to address what did not appeal to their own enlightened

547

Dorpat's fourth chair: ‘Der practischen Theologie, oder der Catechetic, Homiletic und Pastoral-Theologie’, § 81 statutes, in Engelhardt, Deutsche Universität Dorpat, 35. Åbo and Uppsala: Wijkmark, Ödmann, 246 passim ; Ödmann's paraphrase of Mosheim and Bastholm: Anwisning till ett Christeligt Predikosätt (Uppsala, 1807). Revival of pastoral theology in Catholic Germany: Jedin, Handbuch, vi/1, ch. 23.

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way of thinking: in particular contemporary romantic philosophy and a new awakened churchmanship. The church history lectures (1813) of Jens Möller (1779–1833) were criticized for side-swiping every other day, Schelling and Grundtvig, without grasping their ideas or their philosophic and religious tendencies, or even being able to explain their errors. Attempts to introduce practical parish training, such as Bishop Balle's Det homiletiske og kateketiske Selskab (1789), or the new royal seminary thus failed to gain members. Copenhagen's theology faculty remained an institution producing civil servants (Kjøbenhavns Embedsmandsfabrik).548 Memoirs (1780–1830) show the common practice still prevalent amongst many ordinands of paying a coach rather than attending lectures, in order to get through the material to pass the required written and oral examinations. Temptation was strong, since it was possible to borrow from the coach copies, in their hundreds, of lectures and the examination questions and answers. Failure to train ordinands for work in the parish was linked with a failure to cope (staff consisted of only five theology professors before 1900) with rising numbers of theology students; and with instruction which continued to be in Latin until 1866. The lecture catalogue began to appear in Latin and Danish for the first time in 1833; the use of Latin in final examinations was abolished in medicine in 1838, in law in 1847, and theology in 1849.549 The situation regarding theology was similar over the water in Sweden. Lund (3,429 inhabitants, 61 university staff, and 600 students) and Uppsala (4,496 inhabitants, 60 staff, and 1,386 students), described by Schubert (1817–20), were even more traditional.550 Professors of theology, who constituted the spiritual consistory of Lund diocese, and the Uppsala archdiocese, were amply provided for by prebendaries. Both towns were quiet backwaters. One of Sweden's leading awakened clergy, Peter Wieselgren (1800–77), clergyman of Västerstad (1833–47), and rector of Hälsingborg (1847–57), who had studied at Lund (1820–3), thought the view from the observatory of white houses amongst trees, gardens, and fields, all dominated by the twelfth-century cathedral, was close to the idyllic groves of Academe in secular Athens. A

548

S. Grundtvig (ed.), Grundtvig og Ingemann, Brevvexling 1821 –1859 (1882), 212, cited Grane (ed.), Københavns universität, v. 338.

549

Skautrup, Det danske Sprogs Historie, iii. 129, 140. The first chair of Nordic (Scandinavian) languages was established in 1845.

550

Schubert, Reise, i. 33–52, 158–91.

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neologist professoriate and bishop still seemed to prefer tradere, expressed by academic pomp and circumstance—such as the annual Midsummer Night service in Lund cathedral, replete with clever Latin orations announced by a peal of bells, and a procession led by the bishop as rector in full academic dress carrying a silver wand—more than training a clergy for the exacting pastoral care of unsettled post-war parishes. Bishop Faxe (1811–54) was noted as a good administrator, but criticized as a pastoral leader who lacked the necessary warmth and spiritual depth to comprehend the concerns of ordinands and parishioners in parishes which were being reshaped by land reform.551 Another likeminded ordinand—also inspired by the southern German awakening and the awakened pastoral example of Claus Harms and Tholuck—Johan Henrik Thomander (1798–1865), who subsequently played an influential role in the reform of the Swedish clergy, and called for a more independent church during his years as lecturer at Lund (1826), professor of pastoral theology (1833) after new statutes reformed Lund's clergy training (1831), and bishop of Lund (1856–65), was deeply pessimistic about what he saw in Lund in the 1820s: perhaps twenty out of 150 new parish clergy were adequate for parish work; there were far too many poor clergy, and far too many almost perpetual curates. The two decades 1810–30 showed a very high percentage of unbeneficed clergy in that and other Swedish dioceses. In the Lund diocese in 1832 (491 clergy), eighty-nine curates remained in service more than ten years, thirty-three more than twenty, and twenty-six never progressed beyond verger (Klockare) status.552 Wieselgren and Thomander's awakened criticism, which pointed, in the same way as did Bishop Mynster in Sjælland, to a large and growing gap between a university-trained clergy and parishioners, came to a head for the first time in Scandinavia in the public row in 1825 between the Copenhagen theologian, Henrik Nicolai Clausen (1793–1877), a disciple of Schleiermacher's Protestant constitutional church, and the future luminary of the Danish awakening, Nikolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig (1783–1872). Grundtvig's diaries show us an ordinand who tried to find his faith in Copenhagen's enlightened theology faculty; one influenced by Danish political radicalism of the 1790s which treated landowners as peasant bullies; and an idealist who tried to relate Denmark's practical

551

Reuterdahl, Memoarer, 144, 188 passim ; Newman, Lunds domkyrkas historie, ii. 430–1.

552

Österlin, Thomanders kyrkogärning, 141–2 (117 clergy remained celibate).

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enlightenment of action with German romantic organic theory linking nature, spirit, poetry, religion, science, and history. The romantic philosopher, Henrik Steffens, who lectured on Schelling at Copenhagen (1802–3), was his cousin. Grundtvig saw enlightened secular thought, the French Revolution, the collapse of the Danish Helstat (he witnessed the English bombardment of Copenhagen in 1807, and grieved over the loss of Norway in 1814) as symptoms of a decaying Christian faith. He charged Denmark's Copenhagen-trained parish clergy with no longer defending the Lutheran faith in a probational sermon (1810) ‘Why has the Word of the Lord disappeared from His House? (Hvi er Herrens Ord forsvundet af hans Hus?)’ Civic virtues and vices had displaced the Gospel, and made way for a new paganism. Daily study of the New Testament was the only path to Christian salvation. As one of the clergy serving Copenhagen's Church of Our Saviour (1822–6), Grundtvig confronted the enlightened church of his times, and what he considered to be religious sham: statutory Danish Lutheran uniformity. ‘What has Christ taught?’ he asked his city congregation. With the example of the Early Church in mind (Grundtvig had read Irenaeus's Against Heretics, and had translated the fifth book in 1827), he appealed to a childlike faith and confidence and sensitivity as the best way to make Christianity alive again. Though unmusical, Grundtvig had an ear for daily speech, and could versify. He realized that a revived church had to speak a language close to the people: what he referred to in 1816 as ‘Danish chat used in servants' quarters or the hay-loft’ (Borgestu-Dansk, Borgestue-Snak).553 Hence his colloquial translation of the simple Greek and Latin hymns of the Early Church, and his own simple hymns such as his popular children's carol, ‘Dejlig er den himmel blå’ (‘Lovely is the Clear Blue Night’); in all he wrote some 1,500 hymns, mostly after 1825, which were close to the Bible text and picked up the natural world and idiom of his Sjælland landscape.554 Grundtvig's Christian fellowship centred on a congregation gathered round the sacraments of baptism and communion as proof of an unbroken chain of baptized persons linked to the Early Church. The

553

‘Borgestu-Dansk, lave og uædle, men drøie og træffende’, ‘i vort Modersmaal ligger Hjertet paa Tungen’, Literatur-Tidendens Skudmaal (1816), 26, 28, 31, cited Skautrup, Det danske Sprogs Historie, iii. 326–7.

554

‘klingrende Frost’, ‘udbære vor Jul’; ‘Vintergiæk og Sommernar’, ‘Sommernattens korte Svale’, ibid. 333.

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essence of what Grundtvig called in 1825 his ‘unparalleled discovery’ was his realization that Christ was alive and was the ‘Living Word’ of the Apostles' Creed used in the Danish baptismal and communion liturgy. Grundtvig confronted Clausen as a representative of Copenhagen enlightened theology which had lost its sense of the Christian church of history. Clausen, an associate professor since 1822, during a grand tour (1818–20), similar to those of Balle and Münter, spent visiting Göttingen, Berlin, Dresden, Vienna, and Rome, had become a disciple of Schleiermacher; sharing his belief that Christianity could be linked with modern learning, patriotism, and modern constitutional self-government of a Lutheran church which sought inter-communion with its Reformed sister church. At Rome, at a time when young German and other European artists rediscovered the quattrocento, Clausen had also warmed to Christian art and the idea of Catholic universality. These views he penned (August 1825) in his lengthy, Schleiermachian, Catholicism's and Protestantism's Church Constitution: Its Doctrine and Rite (Catholicismens og Protestantismens Kirkeforfatning: Lære og Ritus). Clausen argued that if Catholicism represented the universal church, Rome was bound to Christ historically and not spiritually; Protestantism was built on the New Testament, but the New Testament was subject to modern criticism: the principle of Protestantism. It was up to the individual Christian awakened by Schleiermachian religious need (andakt) to follow Jesus as a guide. Clausen's renewal of faith was one which therefore scorned the mystical (particularly St John's Gospel), and those who wished to defend Denmark's established church; instead he argued for the increased independence of the church, for theologians to act as critical modern guardians of Scripture, and for the parish clergy to follow these critical footsteps. In a headstrong public reply (Kirkens Gjenmæle, 5 September) penned on ‘the blessed day of Irenaeus’, Grundtvig argued on behalf of the true historical Christian church that Clausen was guilty of error in basing his church on Scripture which could be interpreted only by the new critical theology of his times; that he ‘must either make the Christian Church a solemn apology for his unchristian and offensive doctrine, or resign his office and no longer call himself a Christian’: he was no better than a witch on a broomstick flying to the biblical sources to interpret them in the light of a reasonable Christianity. Christianity was distinguished from all other religions by its ‘unequalled Creed’ by which it had for

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eighteen centuries proclaimed faith in Jesus Christ as the only way of redemption. The resultant public row split the Danish clergy; but instead of beginning a principled debate, Clausen's clever tactic of charging Grundtvig with a malicious and personal attack on his academic freedom, which enabled him to sue Grundtvig for libel, led to the fining of Grundtvig on 30 October and his resignation from office the following year. Clausen returned to academic writing and to what became his liberal politics of church self-government in the 1840s; Grundtvig joined the Danish lay awakening, and, influenced by his trips to England (1829–31, 1843) where he encountered Evangelicalism, the Tractarian debate, and the new lay education system of London University, began to sever it from Denmark's established church.

II. Preaching and Prayer However, the Protestant awakening in Germany and Scandinavia had little political colour until a couple of decades of liberal patriotism infused with constitutional and municipal reform (1830–50) introduced the distinctions ‘church’ and ‘state’; though awakened prayer meetings helped to spread the idea of voluntary association amongst laity. Political values associated with a voluntaristic and democratic church (Volkskirche in German; Folkekirke in Danish), and its voluntary Christian ‘social’ work only began to surface here and there after 1840. On the whole, in the period before 1848—a time when there was still much religious censorship and what could be said in pulpits was still circumscribed by law—conventicles strengthened amongst laity the idea of a non-political, corporate Christian body of committed believers. Very noticeable was the autodidactic, amateurish character of early nineteenth-century awakened lay and clerical leaders. They looked afresh at the New Testament and the apostolic example of the Early Church. Few of their awakened followers wished to leave the church in which they grew up, though many despised a statutory established church, and poor economic circumstance forced many to leave home parishes. Pietism and Moravianism, religious tendencies which had never sought severance from established churches, were more intensive as spiritual and ethical influence than was enlightened churchmanship in German and Scandinavian country parishes and in cities such as Berlin and Copenhagen. The

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uncensored 1790s had unleashed a flood of Protestant homiletic books which were considered too radical by both church authorities and parishioners. The experience of post-1789 French life enforced by troops in German lands brought a strong lay reaction to any further erosion of the Protestant home parish and family. This mood built also on a popular memory in German and Scandinavian parishes of hard times and war in the troubled two previous centuries. A parallel might be made with fears expressed a century later about the onward march of ‘Bolshevism’ after 1917. Thus the renewal of an upright Christian identity was a new patriotism and vice versa. Baron vom Stein, a man used to daily prayer and to reading his New Testament, owing to his experience of the conflict between what he called the corporate spirit of Reformed and Catholic Westphalia and Napoleon's Westphalian centralization, spoke of the necessary religious, moral, spiritual, and political renewal, in that order, of Prussia. A living apostolic Christianity in a Christian state shorn of its absolutism was a barrier to a new French and secular order. Such an argument coloured the conservative tone of the awakening in Protestant Prussia and most German states. New state and parish boundaries, especially in western and southern Germany, but also in Lower Saxony, Westphalia, and West and East Prussia, forced Lutheran and Reformed parishioners to take notice too of a Catholic revival born in opposition to similar radical Catholic enlightenment in the 1790s, and the abolition of the old Catholic imperial order (1803–6). Special to this Catholic awakening was a romantic, often mystical yearning amongst Catholic clergy and educated laity, which sometimes included like-minded Lutherans, for a spiritual home. Particular examples were the circle and correspondents of Princess Amalie Gallitzin (1748–1806) at Westphalian Münster (after 1779), and the revival in anti-Napoleonic Vienna led by the Redemptorist, Clemens Maria Hofbauer (1751–1820), and his disciples in neighbouring Munich and Würzburg. More significant for southern and northern German Protestant awakenings was the warm, open-minded, moral and pastoral theology which centred on the Early Church, the Catholic devotio moderna, and a modern vernacular rendering of the New Testament practised by the theologian, Johann Michael Sailer (1751–1832), at Bavarian Dillingen (1784–94) and at the new Bavarian state university of Landshut after 1800, and by Sailer as the bishop of Regensburg after 1822. This Catholic devotional and

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pastoral revival, also the return of the Catholic orders, particularly new charitable congregations such as the French Sisters of Mercy, had a profound effect on the spirituality and charitable mission of the Lutheran awakening in Bavaria, Württemberg, and Prussia. Once again, as had happened in the hard times at the turn of the seventeenth century, precisionist churchmanship in pious conventicles of like-minded laity and clergy became popular. Lay preachers (Stundenleute, Sprecher), artisans, or pious noble landowners preached the path to salvation, called for a lay ministry which dispensed with the services of a parish clergyman (Amt), and shared a lay office with ordinary people in private homes on Sunday afternoons and weekdays. Together they prayed, sang hymns, and read passages of the Bible, or from devotional books, or collections of sermons. The New Testament message of sinful man's redemption through Christ's saving grace and converted and reborn hearts, was rediscovered in contrast to the modern preaching of moral progress based on mankind's natural moral predisposition. Novel to this awakening was the very much larger number of travelling preachers (clergymen and laymen) who gathered congregations around them. Their evangelism was made easier by a modern press which could print cheap New Testaments and Bibles on a much larger scale than at Halle a century earlier. These were often distributed by the British and Foreign Bible Society, which established its German base in Nuremberg and Basle in 1804, and thereafter in individual German states: notably, Württemberg (1812); Hamburg, Hanover, Lübeck, Prussia, and Thuringian Erfurt (1814); Bremen, Brunswick, Schleswig-Holstein, Strasburg (1815); Nassau, Mechlenburg-Schwerin and Frankfurt (1816); Hesse-Darmstadt (1817); in Estonia and Livonia at Reval (1807), Dorpat (1811), Riga (1812); in Finland at Åbo (1812); and in Denmark and Sweden at Copenhagen and Stockholm (1814).555 Travelling preachers with knapsacks containing New Testaments and devotional tracts on their backs, functioned as colporteurs too. They preached in a language which avoided eloquence and used the everyday idiom spoken by ordinary people, thus reaching a much larger congregation outside their home parishes. A well-known German example was Aloysius Henhöfer (1789–1862), a disciple of the Catholic awakening amongst Sailer's pupils in the Bavarian Allgäu, who had converted

555

Canton, i, app. iv.

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to Lutheranism (1822–3), and had become the vicar of two Badenese parishes—Graben (1823–7) and Spöck near Karlsruhe (after 1827). Henhöfer was an outspoken opponent of what he called the ‘unbiblical’ and ‘unchristian’ Baden Union (1821) and its catechism. Henhöfer, like Grundtvig, used everyday colloquial metaphor to shake average people out of their spiritual slumber. Save sinners; force the distinction between good and evil and between the spiritually awakened and the spiritually dead; press for a personal decision to choose one side or the other; these themes, rather than teaching and edifying of congregations with homilies on civic virtue, were characteristic of his idiomatic, repetitive, and often very lengthy (two hours or more) preaching to a gathered congregation of people of all sorts. Such sermons were collected and published for further reading. Particularly successful examples, which dared parishioners to make the jump of faith, were those of the awakened Stuttgart clergyman, Ludwig Hofacker (1798–1828): his cheap Predigten für alle Sonn-, Fest- und Feiertage (Stuttgart, 1833) had already reached ten editions by 1845, and continued as popular reprints for the rest of the century. This principled Protestant colloquy, often informed by a simultaneous Devotio moderna amongst Catholic clergy, flourished as an active preaching from village to village and town to town, in a post-war order in which religious statutory sanction was breaking down. Württemberg's local Pietism became an article for export for the first time in the awakened 1820s. The older language of personal and common prayer contained in the Protestant devotional canon (1550–1700) was also rediscovered, simply because these were household books. One made do with the few books one had and was used to. In Scandinavia, the older canon was never really forgotten: Swedish and Danish personal estates and diocesan visitations of the period 1800–30 show its popularity as daily household reading.556 It was also easy to reprint. In German lands, this canon of prayer was reprinted by Basle's Tract Society (1802), an offshoot of Basle's Christianity Society (1780) which had been founded to unite Protestant clergy and laity against German Neology, and by printers elsewhere who recognized a growing popular demand similar to the one that had happened after 1648. In 1831 the Frankfurt publisher Brönner published Scriver's Gottholds zufällige Andachten, and in 1832 a new edition of Arndt as an

556

See Ch. 2.

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awakened replacement for an enlightened abridgement (1780).557 Like Pietism in 1700, the awakening after 1800 produced few new prayer-books; of those there were, a handful tried to copy the tone of the older canon. Good examples are Tholuck's Die Lehre von der Sünde (1823; six editions by 1848), and his Hours of Christian Devotion (Stunden der christlichen Andacht, 1839; eight editions by 1870) which he published as an awakened reply to Zschokke's popular non-denominational devotion (see below). In many Protestant households the warm Catholic devotional prose of Sailer and his pupils was very popular. This centred less on Christ's majesty, and more on Christ, the friend of mankind, as worthy of affection (the adjective liebenswert was often used), vocalized in the words. ‘Christ for us and Christ in us’ used by two of Sailer's pupils who had a seminal influence on the German Protestant awakening: the parish clergymen, Martin Boos (1762–1825), and Johannes Goβner (1773–1858). It was a Christology based on their rediscovery of the apostolic (devotional and pastoral) in St Augustine, Origen, and Jerome, and the medieval mystics St Bernard, and Thomas à Kempis. But devotional renewal was not the only common feature of this lay awakening. Symptomatic of the new mood, which gathered pace as a more secular-minded urban culture spread after 1840, was a devotional genre aimed at parishioners who seemed, after a long period of war and social distress, to have little feeling any longer for Reformation doctrine; particularly for Luther's radical sense of the Devil and his works. This was apparent in a milder language of prayer, and a practical (often patriotic) household ethics which was sometimes barely distinguishable from contemporary enlightened homiletics, and emergent liberal civic values. One of the most popular, but least likely, devotional authors in both Germany and Scandinavia was the Magdeburger, Johann Heinrich Zschokke (1771–1848). Zschokke, a disciple of Kant's at Reformed Frankfurt an der Oder, became a warm-hearted supporter of French republicanism (this had worried Wöllner very much); thereafter, in 1795, a spokesman of the nascent Helvetic Republic, lieutenantgovernor of Basle Canton after 1800, and the first popular historian of the Swiss republic. Zschokke was, in terms of sales, the most popular early nineteenth-century devotional writer, as the anonymous author—

557

W. Zeller, ‘Drucktätigkeit und Forschung auf dem Gebiet der protestantischen Erbauungsliteratur des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts’, ThLZ 11 (1960), cols. 859–64; Scharfe, Religion des Volkes, 33–6; reprints cited, Beck, Die religiöse Volkslitteratur.

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who took pleasure from the fact that he could not be identified as either a Catholic or Protestant—of Hours of Devotion (Stunden der Andacht): prayers and homilies which he had published in a local Sunday newspaper (Sonntagsblatt, 1808–16). By 1842, when he revealed his authorship, this collected devotion in eight volumes had reached thirty-six editions. The only comparable popular Protestant prayer authors were Arndt and Starck. Zschokke's prayers were mild, undogmatic, and non-denominational; they contained little on justification, awe in the presence of an angry God, the need for personal struggle to win His grace, rebirth, or the promised Land (Verheissung). Zschokke wrote for family prayers, mixing prayer that covered family daily duties with reflection on the Bible and on the beauty of the natural world, piety towards old customary habits, and a call, common to many enlightened parish clergy of his generation, for a patriotic interest in the common good and a striving towards moral perfection here and now which he captured in the phrase, ‘Popular education is popular liberation’ (Volksbildung ist Volksbefreiung).558 Very popular too, especially after c.1840, was the growing cheap and sentimental popular devotional literature for home consumption, illustrated with woodcuts or copperprints of a loving and mild Jesus, printed in large numbers by the new revivalist presses of Calw and Stuttgart (Ch. 17).

III. Timing and Geography By 1830, an awakened, Evangelical mood was visible in most German lands, and in four new Scandinavian states, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Finland. It was lay-inspired, but also a quest for renewal within established Lutheran churches by both an enlightened clergy and a new Pietist generation of clergy which began to be known as ‘NeoLutheran’ in contrast to Reformed and Lutheran intercommunion (1817). Obvious churchscapes where the latter flourished were Saxony, which continued an unbroken conservative Reformation church order, and a living tradition of Lutheran family prayers, and Lutheran Bavaria to the east of the river Rhine after Catholic Bavaria's reconstitution as a modern tolerant state. Saxony lacked an eighteenth-century Pietist movement; since

558

Schnabel, Deutsche Geschichte, iv. 372.

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1697 there was also a strong tradition in urban Saxony (notably Dresden and Leipzig) of defending Saxony's Lutheran Reformation against a Catholic court. Saxon Enlightenment was mild, conciliatory, and commonsensical at Leipzig, which, after Wittenberg's incorporation in Prussia (1815), became the new citadel of Saxon Lutheranism. The period 1815–48 was therefore notable for renewing an established Lutheran Saxon identity preached by enlightened and NeoLutheran generations of Saxon clergy, and spread by household use at morning and evening family prayers of cheap New Testaments distributed by the Dresden (1814) and Leipzig (1818) Bible Societies, and Dresden's new Missionary Society (1819). Saxon clergy and their parishioners warmed to Tholuck's Lutheran renewal (after 1826) in nearby Halle. If London and Basle's evangelical mission was influential in Saxony as a whole (Saxony, next to Württemberg, was in the 1820s known as the land of mission: forty-four branch Bible and missionary societies were established); new, cheap, evangelical literature really enriched this established Saxon devotional tradition of family prayers, and it also strengthened Saxon Neo-Lutheran refreshment of Duke Henry's church order and liturgy. In Bavaria (after c.1820) Nuremberg, Ansbach, Bayreuth, and Erlangen likewise became centres, publishing and distributing popular evangelist literature and a revived Lutheranism. In Scandinavia, the awakening's timescale (after c.1790) meant that, as a movement within and without churches reestablished by late seventeenth-century absolutist religious uniformity, it was also coloured by contemporaneous enlightened debate about the continuance of the old church-state put into relief by the division of the Swedish and Danish twin monarchies; and particularly by the almost simultaneous appearance of German Pietism, Moravianism, Neology, and a new idealistic and romantic cultural revival (in Swedish, Göticismen; in Danish, Guldalder) which looked back to medieval roots, and sung the virtues of an independent peasantry. In the provincial cultures of German lands a similar idealistic religious and cultural revival which began to look to ‘German’ culture took place, and crossed provincial borders in a way unthinkable before 1815. However, owing to a tradition of political division and a Reformation tradition of many local churches, religious and cultural revival tended in the long run, in contrast to Scandinavia, to reinforce the local map of churches which had been redrawn politically in 1815. A Protestant, undogmatic, interconfessional religious

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awakening, visible in the movement for Lutheran and Reformed intercommunion, and devotion which borrowed much from Catholic revival, was challenged after 1830 by neo-Lutheran (also neo-Reformed in western and southwestern Germany) local revivals which sought to rediscover their Reformation roots as a way of opposing the egalitarian principles of 1789 and Napoleon. What became more of a debate between ‘church’ and ‘state’ after c.1840 was coloured by awakened Protestant Germanies which divided very roughly into lands of Lutheran renewal (Bavaria, Hanover, both Mecklenburgs and Pomeranias, East and West Prussias, Purssian Saxony, Saxony, Silesia, Livonia, and Estonia) and a more open, awakened, ‘liberal’ lay churchmanship—though that too began to stress hierarchy rather than presbytery—visible in south-western and western Germany (Baden, Württemberg, the Bavarian Rhine Palatinate, and Prussia's Rhineland and Westphalia). In actual fact, most German provinces mixed these awakened religious tendencies: Prussia most of all, which, as the unifying state, increased this pluralism by annexing Hanover, Electoral Hesse, Nassau, and Frankfurt in 1866.

A. Denmark and Norway A popular awakening was in essence a reaction to enlightened revision of Pontoppidan's catechism (1737), Kingo's hymn-book (1699–1700), and plans to revise the Danish rite (1685). A Lutheran revival amongst clergy (troende) also took place after 1830 under Bishop Mynster, though this churchmanship tended to lose itself in the new directions Danish churchmanship took in the 1849 Folkekirke. Denmark's ‘roomy’ People's Church owed much of its colour to a lay awakening, to Grundtvigian fellowship, and to a new cultural nationalism. As a rural lay movement of Pietist and Moravian colour, it began in eastern Jutland and western Norway in the 1790s. ‘The strong [in faith] Jutes’ (De stærke Jyder), the farm-servant Peder Frandsen, farmer Peder Laursen, and the smith Hans Nielsen, humble folk instantly recognizable from Andersen's fairy-tales, preached a Precisionism separating the converted from the ungodly, held prayers, read portions of the Bible, and sang hymns on Sunday afternoons in parishes close to the towns of Vejle and Horsens in eastern Jutland; likewise the craftsman Christen Madsen (1776–1829), two decades later after his awakening (1819) at Kerteminde on the island

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of Fyn. Rising popularity led to many lawsuits and fines, even imprisonment, though few wished to leave the established church. Use of Pontoppidan's catechism could not be stopped. The same happened in Norway under Hans Nielsen Hauge (1771–1824), a farmer's son convinced at an early age of sin and parochial ‘ungodliness’, and of the way his enlightened generation of Norwegian bishops and parish clergy (trained still at Copenhagen) condoned worldly ways. He too preached and taught with Luther's Little Catechism and postil, Pontoppidan's Mirror and catechism, and the devotional writing of Arndt and Heinrich Müller. Hauge performed a Herculean task as a lay preacher travelling up mountain and down valley before and after a lengthy series of hearings and imprisonment under the 1799 Danish press law (1806–11), schooling many lay preachers in a puritanical Precisionism (fiddlers burnt their fiddles) which insisted on observing God's law and re-emphasized Lutheran justification and satisfaction. Hauge became a popular preacher, because he knew how to share fears and hopes with his congregation and amongst farmers and craftsmen in a brave new rural world, by preaching a practical Sermon on the Mount as a way of encouraging industrious (flittig) Christians to improve agriculture, trade, and the spread of lay education (particularly by means of printed books). The Pietist Jutish and Fyn awakening, and Haugeanism which spread west-east in Norwegian dioceses, were movements which appealed to a rural social order changed by land reform: new independent farmers, farmhands, domestics, and many more cottars and day-labourers. Norwegian diocesan visitations after 1800 noted thousands (5,000–10,000) of converted; Hauge's eight major religious tracts (1796–1800) were printed in some 50,000–60,000 copies. A similar lay piety spread in Copenhagen where its citizenry had shown an attachment to Pietism and Moravianism in the previous century. Copenhagen's Bible Society (1814) founded by the Scot, Ebenezer Henderson (1784–1858), and a city Mission and Tract Society (1820–1), became very popular amongst Copenhagen's royal service class and young awakened city clergy, notably Grundtvig. Moravian influence radiating from Christiansfeld remained strong in Jutland and Copenhagen, and grew after 1800 in the towns and townships of southern Norway (Østfold, Christiania, Drammen, Vestfold, Kongsberg, Skien, Vanse, Bergen, and Stavanger) in Societies sponsored by the better situated (kondisjonerte): clergy and

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clergy families, wealthier burghers, and army officers. Stavanger's Moravians took the initiative in founding a Mission Society (1826)—the first Norwegian mission to the heathen—a Norwegian Bible Society (1828), Tract Society (1832), several charitable societies, and a Mission to the Jews (1844). These pioneered an associational Christianity which became marked in Norwegian religious life after 1850.559 What began locally was networked by lay preachers into a ‘national’ religious awakening in the decade (1830–40), and one which began to ally with Danish and Norwegian cultural nationalism. The first popular religious petitions (unusually large in Denmark's climate of reinforced religious censorship after 1799) appeared as demands to end an obligation to use the services of the parish clergyman (Sognebåndsløsning, 1834, 500 signatures), permission to use (1835) Pontoppidan's catechism (400 signatures), and a petition (1839; 2,000 signatures) criticizing a new attempt to reform the Danish rite. Analysis of these petitions has shown us that this was the religious expression of Denmark's new rural social order—independent farmers, cottars, rural craftsmen, apprentices, and domestics.560 Noticeable was the large number of young men and especially women: the most mobile and the least loyal to parish tradition in the countryside. To a certain extent this rural awakening showed by 1840 a contrast with enlightened liberal burghers in Copenhagen and larger Danish towns. The new label ‘commoners’ (Almuen), signifying also a demand for the right to hold religious meetings (kirkelig frihed), had become an important term in church politics. However, one needs to be careful with lay politicization. Congregations in overfilled rooms in private homes warmed to a Christology which mixed the old devotional canon (1550–1700), Pontoppidan, and Moravian tracts, with a puritanical aversion to dancing, music, cardplaying, and smoking (some lay preachers ordered pipes to be buried). A new religious correctness swept the land. On the other hand, Grundtvig and Jacob Christian Lindberg (1797–1857), a like-minded schoolmaster who taught Hebrew in Copenhagen's Metropolitanskole (1822–30; Kierkegaard and Martensen were two of his pupils), in the aftermath of Grundtvig's row with Clausen, began to propagate in modern colloquial Danish

559

Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19. århundre, i. ch. 5.

560

Summary: Pontoppidan-Thyssen, ‘Danmark’ in ‘De religiösa folkrörelserna’, Historiallinen Arkisto, 62 (1967), 13, 18–19, 22–7.

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using their own new press, a sense of common cause with a Danish national awakening. Lindberg's influential newspaper, Den nordiske Kirke-Tidende (1833–40), which reported the growth of revival area by area and supported the petition movement (1835–9), began, as Dannebrog (1841–2), to link the awakening to nationalism. Grundtvig and likeminded clergy engineered the first large open-air meetings (Folkemøder); taking place initially on 4 July 1844 (to coincide with American Independence Day), at Skamlingsbanken, the highest hill in southern Jutland, close to the German border. These popular gatherings mixed quite freely an awakened piety with accounts of Nordic history and mythology. All sang the first national songs articulating Grundtvig's appeal to the spirit of the Danish people (folkeånd) and their liberties (frihed). On 7 November, Grundtvig opened the first Folk High School (Folkehøjskole) at Rødding in Danish Slesvig for young people after confirmation (aged 14), young adult farmhands, and persons of any profession to ‘receive such knowledge and skills as can be of use and for pleasure, not so much with regard to the individual's particular occupation and business as to his position as a son of the nation and citizen of the state’. In this way, Grundtvig's apostolic church shaped a new Danish ‘low church’ congregation (menigheden). By 1840 there was also a new and more provocative political tone against the authorities and clergy. Parish worship and study in Copenhagen were openly bracketed with ‘idolatry’ (afguderi). Parish clergy and constables found it increasingly difficult to stop meetings where most stamped with feet and banged fists on tables, or to enforce the Conventicle Act (1741) which had been more effective before 1830. If the Danish and Norwegian rural awakenings remained latent politically (Grundtvig began to demand freedom of political association as a member of Denmark's constituent assembly only in 1848), the rural Danish awakening, as a movement of rural religious self-expression which had started to link with liberal political aims, had become too widespread to stop.

B. Sweden and Finland An awakening was also a response to the modernization of public worship visible in the revised service-book (1811) and new authorized hymn-book (1819). But observance (noted by Schubert) of the letter of Sweden's Caroline Church Law and service-book, and the devotional canon (1550–1700), in Swedish and Finnish parishes was

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possibly firmer than in Denmark and Norway. Paterson, the Scottish spokesman for the British and Foreign Bible Society, noted on arrival at Lund (1807), ‘I was glad to find that German neology and French infidelity had not gained the same footing in Sweden as they had in Denmark.’561 Change was slow, given distances to be covered in a longitudinal country of different and difficult terrain which reinforced the enclosed worlds of Swedish dioceses. Sweden's rural majority of parishioners still read the Apocrypha, prayed with seventeenth-century and early eighteenthcentury Pietist prayer-books, and learnt the powerful prose of sin and salvation contained in Bishop Svebilius's catechism (1689): hence the growing popularity of Pontoppidan's Mirror and catechism in the late eighteenth century. The Swedish lay and clerical nineteenth-century awakening fed on this tradition. One of its principal clerical leaders, the Scanian clergyman Henrik Schartau (1757–1825), loved the devotional prose of Scriver, the Württembergers Bengel and his disciple Magnus Friedrich Roos (1727–1803), and Pontoppidan; Karl Olof Rosenius (1816–68), the helper and successor to the Methodist George Scott at Stockholm's Bethlehem church after 1840–2, and a leading Swedish Evangelical in the 1850s, was awakened as a 16-year old at Härnösand's Gymnasium by reading Pontoppidan's Mirror. Young awakened Finnish clergy across the water in east-Bothnian coastal parishes used this devotional legacy too: Pontoppidan's Mirror was the best-loved devotional book of Pavo Ruotsalainen (d. 1852), the leading Finnish peasant lay preacher. A revival based on this tradition thus began in northern and south-western Swedish parishes which had opened to Pietism and Moravianism after 1750. ‘New Readers’ after c. 1802 built on the late eighteenth-century home movement of ‘Readers’, and the tradition of home prayers and Bible reading in the scattered farmsteads of Härnösand's large, illdefined diocese.562 They preached a new piety of the Book coloured by Arndt, the devotional writing of Nohrborg and Tollesson, the Swedish Moravian hymn-book Sions Sångar, and the recent translations of Luther (1750), as a way of opposing Uppsala and Stockholm's enlightened liturgical and homiletic reform programme: especially the new rubrics covering baptism, confirmation, and absolution in the 1811 service-book. Lay

561

Paterson, The Book for Every Land (1858), 52.

562

Holmgren, Norrlandsläseriet, 190 passim; Helander, Den liturgiska utvecklingen (1811–94), 21–6.

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preachers interpreted passages from the Bible and this devotional writing at regular private chapel worship timed to coincide with the main Sunday morning parish service. This became so popular that the district governor forbade meetings in 1816, and even sent in soldiers. Law enforcement was of little use. The awakening spread rapidly; also in the towns Skellefteå, Piteå, and Luleå. A network of gathered parishes became visible in the years 1818–19. Visitations and commissions followed; agreement was reached not to miss Sunday worship and to observe the law; private worship was even acknowledged by the local authorities in 1822; the clergy debated in the 1823 parliament the Readers' objections to the 1811 service-book: but the movement could not be stopped. Bishop Franzén noted in a visitation protocol (1835), that hundreds failed to attend Sunday worship and parish communion. Important, however, was the mild hand of the authorities; even a clergy committee in parliament (1833) debating Sweden's Conventicle Act (1726) took a tolerant line; in the period 1809–44 only three cases had led to a judgment. This meant that the New Readers were on the whole able to stay within the established church.563 In south-western Sweden also, revival grew in this devotional climate, and, as Paterson noted, in parishes which had opened to Moravian emissaries (Ch. 11). The key figure was Schartau, senior deacon since 1793 at Lund cathedral. But Schartau had little in common with northern Swedish Readers. Schartau was the first representative of Swedish neoLutheran churchmanship: what began to be called, with the Anglican Oxford Movement in mind, Lund ‘High’ churchmanship after c. 1850 (Ch. 17). If Schartau emphasized a reborn religious heart, and daily Bible reading, his piety was masculine, unsentimental, and pessimistic in view of the way his established church failed to address difficult changing times. Schartau refreshed his cathedral congregation as a catechist with Luther's Ordo salutis which he called ‘a jewel in Justification's crown’ (en juvel i rättfärdighetens krona); stressed the need for confession of sins and atonement before parish communion (Augsburg Confession, article 28); and loyal observance of the doctrine and ritual in Sweden's historic established church, as a way of countering the new fashions, German Neology, and enthusiastic lay preaching. Schartau's homiletics proved very influential with his congregation, and especially

563

Holmgren, chs. 6–7; Sandewall, Konventikel- och sakramentbestämmelsernas tillämpning, 17, 43; Palmqvist, ‘Sverige’ in ‘De religiösa folkrörelserna’, Historiallinen Arkisto, 83–5.

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with Lund's ordinands who felt (Wieselgren and Thomander) that Sweden's senior clergy failed to train them adequately for parish work. The idea of reforming the established church from within was spread rapidly, after Schartau's death in 1825, by young junior clergy in the Lund, Gothenburg, Karlstad, and Västerås dioceses. Wieselgren, successively clergyman of Västerstad and Hälsingborg (1833–57) also, as a historian and publicist interested in local and national history, translated this Lutheran revival into one which addressed Swedish and Scandinavian cultural renewal, and combated social vices such as alcohol (he founded a Temperance Society in 1836; c. 1,600 members in 1839). New too in the 1830s was the appearance of a more open-minded generation of pastors who tried to build bridges to the growing number of cottars and lower middle-class townsmen who either felt ill at ease in Sweden's established church, or remained outside its parish provision. Schartauism in this form also spread to the Danish mainland, over the border into Norway, and to Finnish parish clergy serving east-Bothnian coastal parishes. Indigenous awakening also profited from Paterson's contemporaneous mission. Sweden's Evangelical Society Evangeliska Sällskapet (1808), founded by Paterson and members of Stockholm's Moravian community for the purpose of distributing cheap New Testaments, suited a time when Paterson and his Swedish helpers noted to their amazement that only one in ten Swedish families possessed a Bible in a country without a Bible monopoly.564 Paterson was lucky too that bishops and senior clergy, however much enlightened, supported his endeavour. Within a short time there were many helpers, and after the foundation of the Swedish Bible Society (1814) several diocesan auxiliary Bible societies: Uppsala, Västerås, Gothenburg, and Visby in the same year; Lund in 1815; Växjö, Skara, and Karlstad in 1816. The presence of numerous colporteurs who combined preaching and peddling, became a new feature of the Swedish post-war countryside. Mission societies followed. The Gothenburg Mission Society and the Swedish Mission Society (1829), founded by Moravians as in Stavanger, inspired many local branch societies in Sweden's south-western provinces, and diocesan mission societies: Gothenburg (1836), Linköping (1841–2), and Lund (1845). This served as an institutional base for Sweden's future

564

Canton, i. 169–70.

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Home Mission (Inre Mission). Composition which naturally reflected the middle and upper class of the capital and Swedish diocesan towns (high officials, civil servants, business circles, and clergy) suggested, in conjunction with Schartauism, that a renewed established church typified Swedish awakening before 1840 in contrast to Norway and Denmark with their more organized lay churchmanship. But changes were taking place in this central and southern diocesan landscape. These shaped a more organized form of associational lay churchmanship in the two important decades for Swedish church and state (1840–60). Division of the old communal village parish (byalag) was already visible in the decade which followed the second round of land legislation (Laga skifte, 1827). The governor of Alvsborg county in Skara diocese noted, in his economic survey of the peasantry, a growing division (1837–41) between well-off propertied farmers farming the central plain, and a growing under-class of large and poor cottar families (Torparna) living off ‘much too small’ plots of land.565 The pastoral care of the home parish could not reach them. New, too, was a contrast between the conventional churchmanship of the wealthier flatland parishes, and a lay awakening in poorer craft forest parishes in the southern and northeastern corners of the diocese. The hitherto inaccessible province of Småland, dominated by heath, marsh, rocks, and pine forests, started to respond to the lay preaching of colporteurs and bought New Testaments. Bishop Butsch of Skara noted in 1842 the way a ‘preaching sickness’—those who ‘cried out’ (Ropare), some 2,000–3,000 often very young people—encouraged a ‘real change of mind’ evident as a penitential chapel piety based on Bible and postil and expressed in the evenings after work in rooms often filled to bursting point. They eagerly bought the new Bibles and Testaments (184,640 at the end of 1842).566 Like the New Readers, this was voluntary worship which opposed the parish service. Skara's diocesan authorities noticed the way customary attendance four times a year at parish communion had dropped off to only once a year after 1830. It was becoming clear that a new generation

565

Plith, Kyrkoliv och väckelse (Skara diocese), 3 passim. Influence of an earlier awakening (c. 1820–30) reading the old canon of prayer, and initiated in the neighbouring Gothenburg diocese by an assistant clergyman, J. O. Hoof (‘Hoofianism’), ibid. 48 passim; H. D. Hallbäck, ‘Hoof och hoofianismen’, Kå 15 (1914), 270–331, 16 (1915), 152–81.

566

J. A. Butsch, Om predikosjukan (1843); Plith, 53 passim; Canton, ii. 29–31. The year 1841, the tercentenary of the Swedish Bible, also saw a popular Swedish version of Strauss's Leben Jesu.

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consisting of a new rural poor, especially young men and female domestics, no longer identified themselves with the established parish church and its rites. In Finland, separated from Sweden as a Russian Grand Duchy in 1809, an awakening led by junior clergy serving the better-off and more culturally advanced coastal parishes of eastern Bothnia moved gradually eastwards into the more backward provinces of Savolax and Karelia (c. 1800–40). Travelling preachers speaking Finnish made parishioners aware of a cultural gap, apparent already in 1800, between an upper-class Swedish population in the few Finnish towns consisting of government and local officials, burghers, and senior clergy, and a poor and growing Finnish rural population. However, this awakening amongst parishioners, like its counterpart on the Swedish mainland, was tempered naturally still by customary observance of Sweden's Caroline Church Law, catechism in the home, evangelist schooling spread by Sweden's Pro Fide et Christianismo (1771), and the devotional canon, mentioned earlier, in the enclosed order of the Finnish parish where one lived and died. Halle and Herrnhut were also influential on noble estates, and on the large vicarage farms. The Moravian hymn-book Sions sångar, translated into Finnish in 1790, became a much-loved household book. Paterson, who ran the gauntlet of the English navy in 1811 to visit Bishop Tengström at Åbo, realized that his mission, which was institutionalized as the Åbo Bible Society the following year, faced an uphill task in parishes where oral history and devotion were passed by word of mouth (no Bibles or Testaments had been printed since 1776). Plates and stock were also burnt a few years later in Åbo's disastrous fire of 1827.567 Like Schartau's disciples, Finland's young generation of junior clergy built a precisionist personal religion of the Book upon a living Swedish tradition of family prayers and family catechization (Husförhör). Self-knowledge, religious selfexpression, a coming to terms with conventional observance, and an upright life were its main features. This spread also to Karelia, notably under Henrik Renqvist (1789–1866) who preached the need for an impeccable life and strict temperance. It also took on a more strict neo-Lutheran form under Fredrik Gabriel Hedberg (1811–93) in the 1840s as Evangelical preaching influenced by Rosenius in Linköping diocese.

567

Canton, i. 174–7.

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The Finnish peasant preacher, Ruotsalainen, like Hauge, also travelled the difficult terrain of Savolax to spread an introspective, Christocentric (Pietist and Moravian), patient, beseeching faith: salvation came only through constant prayer. But there were limits to the spread of chapel piety in Finnish parishes. The Czar, notably Nicholas I (1825–55), and his church authorities in St Petersburg, equipped with Sweden's Conventicle Act (1726), watched carefully for anything that might lead to political self-expression. Renqvist was put under the supervision of Åbo's cathedral chapter; Hedberg was translated from his Åbo parish to a prison chaplaincy at Uleåborg. Yet, within this censored political and religious churchscape, religious awakening helped a growing awareness of cultural roots in peasant parishes as it did across the gulf in Estonia and Livonia (likewise under St Petersburg's watchful eye) after 1830. Lay preaching in Finnish gave parishioners a sense of common cause, and showed them that language (Swedish) could pose as much of a barrier as rank (Sweden's four parliamentary estates) and ethnic selfexpression. The Finnish-language movement, visible in Lönnrot's publication of Finnish folksongs (Kantele, 1829) and of the old Kalevala (1832), built on this preaching, its devotional literature, and a new Finnish Bible and Testament.

C. Livonia and Estonia A similar awakening and pattern of development which merged an ethnic religious with an ethnic cultural awakening took place at the same time in Estonia and Livonia. Similarity consisted of a German noble and clergy upper class and a mix of Swedish and German customary church order in ethnic parishes. Paterson noted many Swedish residents and much spoken Swedish in Reval's streets in 1813.568 He saw that the British Bible Society confronted a similar rich, oral culture of legends, folk-tales, and songs to that of Finland, and concluded that Estonians and Latvians would warm to a cheap New Testament if it could be translated afresh into the Dorpat and Reval Estonian dialects, and Latvian (the society had calculated that 400,000 Latvian and Estonian families lacked Testaments in 1810).569 But Paterson and his colleagues did not see or appreciate an ethnic devotional literature translated by a generation of Hallesian parish

568

Paterson, The Book for Every Land, 209.

569

Canton, i. 178–9.

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clergy, and a very successful Moravian parish mission which had survived official suppression (1743–1817). The enlightened generation of German parish clergy (after c.1760), many of whom were schooled in the mild-mannered Saxon enlightenment of Dresden and Leipzig, or that of several of the neighbouring Thuringian states, had also done much in their parishes to raise Estonian and Latvian ethnic culture. One of the most prominent figures in Paterson's time was the Saxon, Karl Gottlob Sonntag (1765–1827), the general superintendent of Livonia since 1803, an admirer of Herder, who championed a renewal of the Lutheran pastoral office and ethnic cultures. Sonntag mixed a need to enlighten German barons and citizens about the urgency of building bridges to an ethnic Estonian and Latvian subculture with propagation of the Gospel and the promotion of Christian charity. He helped found Riga's auxiliary Bible Society (1812), and introduced the English Sunday school, using the Anglican model of the Gloucester printer, Robert Raikes (1735–1811), to Riga in 1808 (Ch. 16). But there was little he could do to stop an ethnic religious awakening, which spread quickly as a result of the partial liberation of a servile Estonian and Latvian peasantry (1804–19), Czar Alexander I's toleration of the Moravians in 1817, and the introduction of the first, poor-quality, parish schools (1818–19). Profound spiritual disorientation followed the granting of personal freedom only in Estonia (1816) and Livonia (1819)—Courland in 1817—on the German principle ‘my land, your time’ (Land mein, Zeit dein), in a parishscape where disposal of the land remained in the hands of 2,582 German manors whose grain monoculture had profited from the distillation of spirits in the boom years (1790–1815), had collapsed thereafter (1821–30) owing to a post-war fall in grain prices, and, in changing over to an economy based on potatoes and cattle- and sheep-rearing as a result of mounting debts, had started to clear the land (1825–42) without offering compensation. This was similar to their contemporaries who cleared Scottish Highland parishes. Evictions and a new economy, especially potato-farming which required seasonal work, increased dramatically an already sizeable proletariat of young landless families. The hand of the past was restored too. Manor discipline by an estate police (Gutspolizei) equipped with wide powers of arrest and the right to inflict corporal punishment without trial, reinforced manorial authority and labour service in hard economic times (some passports started to

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be issued only after 1827). A German Lutheran parish clergy generation appointed by the local baron, who remained still a caste apart from their parishioners in status (also because many failed to master the relevant and difficult languages), who sympathized with the plight of their peasant parishioners as men who propagated a mixture of Gospel and enlightened humanitarianism, were helpless onlookers at social distress which barons and the few town authorities started to lose control of after 1830. German parish clergy also experienced their own Lutheran revival, because of their links with a German Lutheran revival in West and East Prussia, Saxony, and Lutheran Bavaria after 1817. Dorpat's theology faculty became, under its senior professor, Ernst Sartorius (1824–34), and the professor of ecclesiastical history, Friedrich Busch (1824–49), a pupil of Neander and Tholuck, a Neo-Lutheran citadel at much the same time as the first Livonian and Estonian clergy synods (after 1834) began to foster a sense of renewed Lutheran pastoral purpose. Herrnhut, which had provided a spiritual home for Estonians and Latvians for some seventy years, became popular in a second flowering after 1817. The brotherhood as a fellowship of various lay offices gave the peasantry a sense of self-esteem, self-expression, and purpose denied them by the manor and home parish. Its congregational liturgy, which centred on hymn-singing and the corporate act of communion, appealed strongly to feeling and a genius for song noted already by Herder and his generation of clergy. Estonian choirs—including those ones which were founded by Lutheran parish clergy to accommodate an Estonian and Latvian love of song (Ch. 18)—precursors of the song festivals which were a mix of this Moravian initiative and a response by Lutheran clergy touched by a German choral revival, can be dated to this time. The idea of Moravian graveyards as gardens of rest appealed strongly to a peasantry which had been ordered by Russian authorities to build new walled cemeteries outside towns and villages in 1773 as a precautionary measure in view of an outbreak of plague in Russia in 1771.570 Moravian membership figures climbed again: 21,757 Estonian and 9,797 Latvian brothers and sisters (Estonian figures were always higher in a landscape dominated by the firmer hand of manors) in 1818, rose in 1839 to 74,074 Estonians, and 26,384 Latvians. Chapels, which the peasantry preferred to build rather than

570

P. Campe, ‘Begräbnisstätten und Friedhöfe Lettlands’, BH 3 (1956/7), 26 passim ; R. Hausmann, ‘Ausserkirchliche Begräbnisplätze’, SBGEG (1902), 150–1.

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maintain their parish church, increased from 144 to 254 (156 in Estonian areas; 98 in Latvian) in the same period. A chapel built and maintained by voluntary peasant labour had appeared in almost every parish. A Neo-Lutheran German pastorate saw this as a serious challenge in 1840. The two decades 1840–60 marked by constitutional debate about church and state in Protestant Germany and Scandinavia became, therefore, identifiable as the time of a religious and cultural clash between ethnic peasant cultures which warmed to Moravian chapel piety, and more alarmingly for the German authorities, began to convert in large numbers to the Russian Orthodox church as well. Two very wet summers (1841, 1845) produced near-famine conditions amongst a peasantry which remembered, by word of mouth, the great famine of 1695–7. Rumours of land available in the Russian interior, and a rumour that the Czar and his clergy would give sanctuary to labourers fleeing angry landowners, produced by 1847 some 75,000 Estonian and Latvian conversions. Lutheran German barons and their parish clergy were confronted for the first time by a Christian church which was alien in doctrine, rites, and usages. Although Russian Orthodox congregations had rooted in Riga and in parts of eastern Estonia in the eighteenth century, they had never been numerically important. If the figures of Moravian membership (1839) and Russian Orthodox conversions (1847) are added together, one can say roughly that almost 20 per cent of the Estonian and Latvian population had left the Lutheran established church by 1850.571

D. Bavaria and Württemberg In Protestant Germany, southern and the western awakenings were influenced by a simultaneous Reformed awakening in the new Dutch and Swiss republics, and by the Catholic revival in Vienna, Munich, the Bavarian Allgäu, and Prussian Münster. The mixture of neighbouring Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed parishes, especially in the new southern states (1800–20), but also in the new Prussian Rhineland and Westphalia, made the task easier for an awakened preacher. Small-scale agriculture and a craft order, which was rationalized rapidly by a string of enlightened statutes and

571

Philipp, Wirksamkeit der Herrnhuter Brüdergemeine unter den Esten und Letten, 213–15 passim ; R. Wittram (ed.), Baltische Kirchengeschichte, 187; Kruus, Talurahva kääriminne lounaeestis, 339–401, 446 passim, gives two separate southern-Estonian sources (spring 1848) for conversions as 63,173 and 65,783.

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suffered what became an endemic wartime and post-war economic crisis (c.1790–1830), warmed to preaching which restored the values of the Christian home and neighbourliness: notably in Württemberg, which experienced, as did the Scandinavian countries, great spiritual unease in a very poor social climate following a doubling of the population in the eighteenth century and an additional population increase created by the boundary changes (1800–20). Visitation protocols (after 1780) showed that laity rediscovered their own Pietist ‘devotional hours’ (Stunden). But many ‘Stundists’ saw very quickly that they had little to hope for in a new ‘liberal’ state which did not tolerate religious enthusiasm, nor the barest suggestion of dissent. The Iptinger weaver, Johann Georg Rapp (1768–1846), and some 1,600 of his followers emigrated to Pittsburgh during 1803–4; a similar event happened in 1817 after two years of almost continuous rain and bad harvests: about 130 families shipped to Rapp's colony ‘New Harmony’. Under a miller, Johann Jakob Koch, and a tailor, Johann Georg Frick, many left (c.9,000, 1816–18) also for the promised lands of Bessarabia and Caucasia, attracted by Czar Alexander I's grant of religious freedom, tax exemption, and freedom from military service. In rough figures, some 24,000 Württembergers emigrated to Russia in the decade 1812–22. A rough analysis of the emigrants shows that many awakened families left because the old collective village and guild structure could no longer support them: occupations of roughly 1,000 Stundists were: craftsmen (53%), peasantry (20%), vintners (15%), day-labourers and shepherds (1%).572 Nineteenth-century Württemberg became identifiable as the awakened German land of emigration to find a better life. Even the Moravians found themselves in difficulty, despite assurances of loyalty to Württemberg's new local church, and promises to promote the economic welfare of the new state. On 17 December 1822, Moravian settlement was officially forbidden in Württemberg. In the churchscape of the larger Protestant whole, consolidation of a new political order after 1815 in a climate of restoration (Ch. 14) thus corresponded also in southern and western Germany to a gradual switch from an awakening of an ecumenical kind towards pious conservative and local Protestant subcultures within semi-constitutional local churches (Landeskirchen). This fed on a

572

Lehmann, Pietismus . . . Württemberg, 175–6.

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growing public mood of opposition to German Protestant and Catholic enlightened liturgical reform and homiletics, and to an alleged erosion of Christian values spread by neighbouring revolutionary and Napoleonic France. Prominent was the awakening amongst Basle's Lutheran and Reformed burghers. They founded their own Christianity Society (1780), which they modelled on the British SPCK (1698), and Sweden's Pro Fide et Christianismo (1771). Significant amongst the membership were three successive awakened Württemberg clergy secretaries: Carl Steinkopf (1795–1803), Christian Blumhardt (1803–7), and Christian Spittler (1808–67) thereafter. They pointed to the urgency of spreading this mission beyond the Upper Rhine: between 1780 and 1830, some forty branch societies were established in Germany and the Netherlands. A Tract Society (1802), and support of the British Bible Society in Nuremberg and Basle (1804) publicized Basle's mission. It was thus more or less inevitable, given this membership and co-operation with the authorities, that Basle, Nuremberg, and Stuttgart, which took over Halle's eighteenthcentury role in the propagation of a cheap Gospel and via a new network of emissaries and correspondence, should strengthen a growing sense of the Protestant Reformation in danger. Basle found receptive ears over the border in Lutheran Franconia in the period when Catholic Bavarian church order was reshaped as a new tolerant regime (1800–20). Lutheran rural and urban ‘old believers’ (poor upland farmers, home-town crafts, also business circles) began to revive the values of Luther's Reformation church and its devotion: particularly in Nuremberg, a city noted for the longevity of Catholic ritual contained in Luther's Formula Missae in the main Sunday morning service liturgy in its city churches, and whose wealthier citizens sponsored the first British ‘Continental Bible Society’ (1804), and one of the most active branches of Basle's Christianity Society. Similar renewal happened also at Erlangen, which started to train Lutheran ordinands in 1810. The leaders of Bavaria's Lutheran revival after 1830 were. Adolf von Harleβ (1806–79), Johannes von Hofmann (1810–77), and Wilhelm Löhe (1808–72); also two Erlangen pupils of Savigny's historical jurisprudence who became influential Lutheran civil lawyers, the Nuremberger Georg Friedrich Puchta (1798–1846) and Friedrich Julius Stahl (1802–61), a convert (in 1819) from Munich's small orthodox Judaic community, both of whom restored law as custom

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and—notably Stahl as a spokesman of monarchy in Prussia after 1840—argued for the restoration of the Lutheran's church's ‘divine’ authority. These leaders of revival owed much to the awakened and irenic piety of Erlangen's new professor of theology (1817), the Reformed minister Christian Krafft (1784–1845); formerly the minister of Weeze near Cleves (Ch. 17). But Franconian Lutheran renewal also took to heart the Christology and devotio moderna preached by the neighbouring Catholic revival in the Munich area and the Bavarian Allgäu by Sailer and his pupils, Johann Michael Feneberg (1751–1812), Ignaz Lindl (1774–1845), Boos, and Goβner.573 As like-minded parish clergy, they established a network whose mission consisted of dedicated person-to-person pastoral care, distribution of their own modern vernacular versions of the New Testament and Church Fathers, and complementary down-to-earth preaching. Goβner was the most influential in bringing this local message to an awakened Protestant Germany. As a Munich evangelist (1812–18) who had published his own New Testament in 1815 (this was circulated by the British Bible Society), he linked his revival in Catholic Munich with an ecumenical renewal begun at the Catholic Maltese church in St Petersburg by his colleague, Lindl, as his successor (1820–4), and with awakened post-war Berlin after his conversion to Lutheranism in 1826 and his appointment by the Prussian crown prince to Berlin's Moravian Bethlehemskirche (1829–47). The charitable face of Vormärz Berlin was in this way largely fashioned by Goβner's new city mission (Ch. 16). In the hinterland of Basle's mission, Württemberg once again became pious, though its nineteenth-century piety broke out of its eighteenth-century home, both as the large-scale emigration of its Stundists, and, amongst awakened clergy and laymen, as a new organized home and foreign mission (often closely linked to the British evangelical revival), as charitable institutions (Ch. 16), and in printing and distributing cheap illustrated Bibles, New Testaments, devotional books and collections of sermons, which became average German and Scandinavian household inventory. Steinkopf, Spittler, and Blumhardt pioneered the way as spokesmen for Basle's and London's missions in Württemberg and Germany. Steinkopf in particular (as chaplain of the London Savoy

573

Magen, Protestantische Kirche und Politik in Bayern, 22–5; H. Dussler, ‘Zur Allgäuer Erweckungsbewegung’, ZbKG 32 (1963), 246–70.

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congregation, he had warmed to London's new Evangelical churchmanship), who founded the Stuttgart Bible Society (1812; the first local Bibles were printed in 1816), linked awakened Württemberg with the leading figures of the Protestant awakening in Germany, the Netherlands, and Britain. However, specific to this mission in a liberal state where nonconformists had to emigrate and Moravianism was banned, was a growing religious conservatism which treated Liberalism in Stuttgart's parliament and Tübingen's lecture theatres as a threat to Christian revival. Württemberg's leading Evangelical preachers founded an evangelical press which helped to fashion a new pious, strictly Sabbatarian, and politically conservative subculture,574 A prominent figure was Christian Gottlob Barth (1799–1862), parish clergyman of Möttlingen near Calw since 1825, who established Calw's Mission Society (1825), its paper the Calwer Missionsblatt (1828), a model for Barmen's missionary press, and a Tract Society (1829), which publicized a continuous flow of Barthian and British Evangelical tracts. By 1833 it had already printed and distributed over a million before it was superseded by Barth's even more successful Evangelical Calwer Verlagsverein (1833). This linked the missions of Stuttgart and Basle, and turned Calw, like Basle, into a nineteenth-century Halle. By the end of the first decade the association had sold some 700,000 tracts and 432,000 schoolbooks. Württembergers became used to a pious and conservative Barthian home and school, which was supplied by his own awakened history of the Christian church (1834), bible geography (1836), ABC (1838), arithmetic (1840), a history of Württemberg (1843), a geography of missions (1844, illustrated by another prominent evangelist, Johann Christoph Blumhardt, 1805–80, Barth's successor who popularized Möttlingen as a centre of revivalism in 1843), and pious children's illustrated magazines such as his Jugendblätter (1836), and the Missionsblatt für Kinder (1842–). Barth, like Steinkopf and other leaders of Basle's mission, was a tireless traveller (in 1839 he visited the Krummacher brothers in Elberfeld, and in 1845–6 visited London to try to found an Evangelical Alliance). Similar work was done by the hymn-writer, Albert Knapp (1798–1864). He wrote a very popular book of Christian verse, Christliche Gedichte (Basle, 1829), describing the steps

574

The important period 1820–48, ‘Gottesreich in Württemberg’, Lehmann, 188–212; its awakened publicity: Scharfe, Religion des Volkes, 145–7, 153–5.

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of religious awakening, the stages of the Christian church year, and Christian rites of passage; edited a Christian pocketbook series, Christoterpe (1838–53), containing edifying poems and lives of eighteenth-century Württemberg Pietists; and composed a two-volume ‘Treasury’ of hymns for church and home (1837)—the model for Württemberg's authorized 1842 hymn-book. Another evangelist was the clergyman Johann Christian Friedrich Burk, the editor of Bengel's religious writing (1813), Bengel's correspondence (1836) and sermons (1839), and founder of the popular Sunday newspaper, Der Christenbote (1831–1941). Thus, roughly in the same decade as the Danish religious awakening came of age (1830–40), a new Württemberg awakening, Gottes Reich in Württemberg, loyal to King Wilhelm I (1781–1864), led on the whole by a politically conservative Evangelical parish clergy, had become an important middle-class interest next to Liberals in parliament, and official circles. Its royalism was apparent in the distribution of the first new Bibles (1816–17) to members of the royal house and senior civil servants; in declarations of loyalty to the monarchy (though the annual royal contribution to Bible distribution was paltry); in reverence for the Czar, who was related to Württemberg's royal family (Bibles were sent regularly), and had offered sanctuary to pious kinsmen who could not find a spiritual home in their Württemberg homeland; and in philanthropic work as royal institutions (Ch. 17). Nevertheless, new Pietist settlements such as Korntal (1819), containing some sixty families who disapproved of Württemberg's modern liturgy and church establishment, were strictly supervised. Korntal's founder, the clergyman Gottlieb Wilhelm Hoffmann (1771–1846)—he distinguished carefully between separatists, and poor, peaceful, conscientious, and industrious people who felt that their religious conscience was threatened—placed Korntal as a ‘privileged’, self-governing, awakened Protestant sanctuary and mission in a Catholic landscape. King William's charter (28 February 1818) insisted on loyalty to the law of the land, the Augsburg Confession, and Württemberg's church order and liturgy. Election of teachers and preachers was free, but any appointment had to be examined beforehand by Stuttgart's Ministry of Church Affairs, and it reserved the right to visit Korntal's schools. Korntal was also forbidden to build a Bible or mission institute, or fund a printing press. Nor was any settler allowed, without giving prior warning to the

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authorities, to accept money, get engaged, or employ domestics from outside this settlement. But settlers were not exempted from military service. This supervisory hand relaxed only after 1830, when visitations reported that a loyal, industrious community was in place. Wilhelmsdorf, a pious colony established to reclaim the marsh on the Upper Swabian moor near Catholic Ravensburg (1824), experienced similar supervision, but a hopeless economic situation. It was symptomatic too, in the long run, that Korntal's second minister (1833–42), Sixtus Kapff (1805–79), a good friend of Hofacker, and a man who improved relations between Korntal's settlers and the king, moved to Stuttgart in 1849, where as a senior member of its consistory he cemented the link between Württemberg's new awakening and the king in official church policy. The same loyal conservative mood was true of Hoffmann's two sons, the more liberal-minded Wilhelm (1806–73), a Basle mission inspector (1839–50), after a brief spell as ephorus in Tübingen's Stift (1850–2), successively Frederick William IV's senior chaplain, general superintendent of the Mark Brandenburg, and influential chairman of Berlin's new EOK who pressed for a synodal Protestant church; and the more conservativeminded theologian, Christoph (1815–85), the staunch critic of modern Tübingen theology, and after his defeat of David Friedrich Strauss (1808–74) in the Ludwigsburg candidacy for the Frankfurt parliament, the Paulskirche's only Pietist. Christoph Hoffmann was noted for two speeches demanding the separation of church and unchristian state, and voluntary parish control of Christian education, for which he had collected some 24,000 signatures in Württemberg and Baden. These men made the awakening respectable in the eyes of Stuttgart's court and middle-class midcentury Württemberg. They turned Evangelical Württemberg into a formidable political opposition to parliamentary Liberalism, and to the new critical history and theology of Tübingen exemplified by Ferdinand Christian Baur's (1792–1860) refreshing historical scholarship and the neo-Hegelian ‘myth theory’, applied to the life of Christ for the first time in Leben Jesu (1835–6), written by Baur's pupil, Strauss.575

575

NDB, s.v. ‘Hoffmann’ family. Public row and Pietist anger over Friedrich Theodor Vischer's (1807–89) lengthy inaugural as Tübingen's new professor of aesthetics and German literature ‘Die Ästhetik als ein Grundprinzip aller Künste und Disziplinen’ (21 November 1844), Jens, Eine deutsche Universität 275–84; Lehmann, 207–12. See the tendentious novella loved in court circles as ‘the book with the Latin name, by the Pietist, Wilhelmine Canz, Eritis sicut deus (Hamburg: Rauhes Haus, 1854).

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E. Prussia In Prussia's provincial archipelago of extremely poor Protestant parishes, exposed by the Code and by numerous reports and petitions over the difficulty of imposing an intercommunion of Lutheran and Reformed parishes uniformly, an awakening inspired by Basle, Nuremberg, and Munich, and by a Dutch Reformed Réveil (as it came to be known in respectable upper-class circles) at Amsterdam and the Hague after the installation of a hierarchical Calvinist church (Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk, 1816) on Prussia's Lower Rhine and Westphalian provinces, became quickly identified with patriotic revival in Berlin, the new Protestant Prussian capital, during the wartime period of Prussian collapse and renewal (1806–15). It also turned into a defensive force supporting local church order in Prussian church politics in the post-war decade (1820–30), owing to a widespread parish reaction to the dominating figure of Frederick William III and his regressive court in the new official Union, and the crown prince's (Frederick William IV after 1840) Roman-coloured enthusiasm for Early-Church ecclesiology and bishops. A parochial awakening tended to reinforce the rough contrast between the conservative worlds of Lutheran Eastern Prussian provinces and the more open worlds of Reformed Western Prussian provinces, though a common post-war religious and political conservatism became evident in both churchscapes. For a while, until 1840, when the first factory chimneys began to overshadow a city silhouette of church spires, Berlin was an awakened city like Copenhagen. A Spenerian lower middle-class citizenry took to Alemmanic evangelism—the local branch of Basle's Christianity Society (1784) led by Johann Esias Silberschlag (1721–91), senior since 1769 of the artisan Trinity parish, a noted modern educationalist like Zöllner, and a preacher second only to Spalding in filling church pews, was extremely popular; a British auxiliary Bible Society was already established (in 1805). Like Copenhagen, artisans and a service class warmed, as did a fair number of nobles and senior civil servants, to an ideal of Christian fellowship inspired by a fair-sized Moravian city congregation (c.1,000 in 1800). A very influential figure was the saintly pastor, Johannes Jänicke (1784–1827), of Berlin's Moravian Bethlehemskirche, who corresponded with Herrnhut and English Evangelicals,

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and was loved as a preacher for his simple, almost childish sermons, during which he often lost the theme of what he was saying. At a time of wartime hardship, Jänicke's humble, emotive preaching of Christian fellowship and his dedication to the city poor helped bridge, as happened elsewhere with Moravian emissaries, the gap between the poor and an upper class. A sense of decorum which shunned religious enthusiasm commended itself too. In this way, Moravian fellowship inspired many, not least the early pioneers of Berlin charity such as Baron von Kottwitz and Goßner, Jänicke's successor (Ch. 16). Important for Berlin's awakening, too, was not so much a juxtaposition of enlightened and pious clergy generations, but a mix of enlightened and pious pastoral action. Sack and Spalding had preached the need to renew the clergy office with better pastoral dedication using homily based on the New Testament. A typical figure was Justus Gottfried Hermes (1740–1818), since 1797 pastor of the little wooden church, St Gertrude, who like Jänicke became loved by rich and poor for his Bible hours, his preaching, and work amongst the destitute. Moritz August von BethmannHollweg (1795–1877) recorded in his diary that Hermes was a more convincing man of prayer than Schleiermacher; Savigny also visited his services regularly, and had his children baptized by him rather than by Schleiermacher. But Berlin's awakening was not merely a movement amongst renewed citizenry and clergy reformers. Several leading figures were outsiders who chose to reside in Berlin in the period (1800–20): the Silesian Baron von Kottwitz in 1806; the Hessian lawyer, disciple of Sailer at Landshut, and influential go-between for awakened Munich and Berlin, von Savigny in 1810; the Hanoverian converted Hamburg Jew and church historian, August Neander (1789–1850) in 1811; one of Savigny's star pupils, the Frankfurt patrician, Bethmann-Hollweg in 1815; and the Silesian ordinand, Tholuck, who experienced a personal religious awakening when he arrived in 1816–17. These men shaped the mild awakened and charitable churchmanship of Vormärz Prussia, and in their respective ways—notably Bethmann-Hollweg who chaired the first Protestant German national synod in Berlin in 1846, chaired the central committee of Wichern's Innere Mission after 1848, pursued a policy of ‘Evangelical Catholicity’ as the president of Protestant German Kirchentage (1848–72) and as Prussia's Minister of Church Affairs

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(1858–62)—acted as brakes on too dominant a royal and noble presence.576 This awakening became influential too in post-war Brandenburg and Pomerania via several younger noble sons resident in Berlin at this time; some of whom, the von Gerlach brothers in particular, became future leaders of a Prussian mid-century philanthropic Conservatism. The von Gerlachs were the spokesmen of monarchy and hierarchy: the officer, Leopold (1790–1861), and Ludwig (1795–1877), the official who preferred a revived Protestant church such as was encapsulated in Bethmann-Hollweg's phrase ‘Evangelical Catholicity’ and an openness to the Centre Party in the Kulturkampf, and the younger saintly Otto (1801–49), who chose a difficult pastoral ministry in the large, new, working-class parish, St Elizabeth, after 1834. This Conservative awakening warmed, as a gathering who met in each other's Berlin homes (1816–19) to read the Bible and pray in a mood of what Tholuck called ‘the nice youthful period of first love’, to the Catholic revival in and around Munich.577 Prominent was the Pomeranian, Adolf von Thadden (1796–1882), who visited Goßner at Munich in 1816, and took to heart Boos's pastoral example (1817) in the Allgäu. Thereafter, von Thadden transferred this awakened pastorate to his Pomeranian estate at Trieglaff (1820), as did his friends Gustav von Below (1790–1843) to Stolp and Schlawe (1819), and Ernst von Senfft-Pilsach (1795–1882) to Rottnow (1822), and established a network of piety with neighbouring Pomeranian nobility as had their eighteenthcentury Thuringian and Silesian predecessors. This was an inward piety which sensed the Catholic and Moravian life of the Cross and charity during a long period of wartime distress, rediscovered the prayer of the Early Church, felt the need of grace, and looked once again to local Reformation roots. Many read the New Testament provided by Berlin's new Bible Society daily as if for the first time childishly, without any sense of there being a distinction between God and man. Bethmann-Hollweg spoke of this piety much later in a speech to the Stuttgart Kirchentag (1857) as a time of first love comparable to that of Andrew, Peter, Philip, or Nathanael, and reminded a mid-century church generation scornful of such ‘subjective’ piety, that the charitable

576

Wendland, ‘Studien zur Erweckungsbewegung Berlins’, JBBKG 19 (1924), 36–41; id. Kirchengeschichte Berlins, 221 passim; and F. Fischer, Bethmann-Hollweg.

577

Cited Wendland, ‘Studien’, 66.

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face of modern German urban Protestantism originated here too.578 Their new fellowship, touched by the sense of being children of God, turned many from the cool homiletics of civic virtue to the rediscovery of Palestrina and Bach and Early-Christian Rome (Ch. 17). Many too, in the climate of simultaneous Prussian university reform, became increasingly sceptical of new Bible criticism, seeing it as godless, as did their awakened contemporaries in Württemberg and Grundtvigian Copenhagen. A conservative tone coloured by the rediscovery of a Reformation Bible became apparent. Berlin's post-war Pietist mood (after 1820) was mainly due to the influence of the court circle round pious Princess Marianne (Hessen-Homburg, 1775–1846), married in 1804 to Prince Wilhelm, the younger brother of Frederick William III, and to the crown prince, Frederick William (IV). This pious circle found modern preaching unsympathetic; Marianne consciously avoided Schleiermacher's preaching; court doors opened to those who were subsequently labelled Berlin's ‘Pietist Party’, and this court began to patronize an awakened city clergy. This could be dated to the appointment in 1822 of the Westphalian, Gerhard Friedrich Abraham Strauss (1786–1863), pastor of Elberfeld's Lutheran congregation since 1814, as a court chaplain and cathedral deacon, and as professor of practical theology at Berlin University.579 Marriage to a rich Westphalian and Reformed banker's daughter, Johanna von der Heydt (Strauss's Elberfeld congregation considered his marriage a ‘betrayal’), and both Berlin posts, produced a good annual 3,000 thalers which gave Strauss the means to open his house to the influential (Bethmann-Hollweg was a close friend), and to interested laymen and students for Bible reading and prayer. Strauss, who loved the pulpit, proved very popular amongst Berliners as a ‘touching’ evangelist preaching a new ‘Christ for us’: sales of his printed sermons alone enabled his publisher to make a living from them. Other appointments were, Löffler to the Spittelkirche and Hoßbach to Jerusalem (1821), Lisco to St Gertrude (1824), Goßner to the Bethlehemskirche (1829), the pious hymnologist and historian of the Berlin hymn-book controversy, Johann Friedrich Bachmann, to Luisenstadt (1829) and Jakobi (after 1845).580 A new sense of home and foreign mission took hold,

578

Ibid. 40–1.

579

‘Pietist Party’ coined by Karoline von Rochow, Vom Leben am preußischen Hof (1908), 220, cited Wendland, Kirchengeschichte Berlins, 229–30; Lenz, Universität Berlin, ii/1, 317 passim.

580

Wendland, ‘Studien’, 74–5.

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especially after Frederick William's hand in the appointment of Goßner as Jänicke's successor, and his sponsorship of Hengstenberg and his new Evangelical Lutheran press, the Evangelische Kirchenzeitung (1827–). These were appointments which marked a similar shift to that amongst awakened clergy in Württemberg, and their struggle with Tübingen's Neo-Hegelians and parliamentary Liberals. This change of religious emphasis became noticeable, but in not such a marked way, given Schleiermacher's popularity, in Berlin's theology faculty under Neander, and via Tholuck (after his conversion in the winter 1816–17) in the 1820s. Neander, who had turned to Luther's Bible, also as a result of his visit to Matthias Claudius at Wandsbeck (1807), acted as a much-loved evangelist: as professor of ecclesiastical history in Berlin's modern theology faculty after 1813 who popularized his rediscovery of the Early Church and St Bernard, and as a pastoral theologian practising ‘pectoral theology’ (pectus est quod theologum facit) and a friend to students, who allowed them to share his childlike bachelor life of apostolic poverty.581 Neander had a profound influence on Protestant city charity, in particular Wichern's Home Mission, even if he turned most of his peers against him because he simply refused to take conservative or liberal sides (he closed his study door on Hengstenberg's battle with liberal Hallesian theology). Tholuck, too, though he was to move to Halle in 1826, and became increasingly identified with neo-Lutheran German revival, also fostered a sense of pastoral devotion amongst a young generation of Berlin ordinands at his home on Thursday and Sunday evenings, where they sang the old Reformation hymns, prayed, read and freely discussed scriptural and religious questions, and shared the news from home and foreign Bible missions.582 But one can make too much of Berlin's centrality. In Prussia's western and eastern provinces the first awakened transregional enthusiasm gave way to local church revivals, and an increasingly conservative clerical and lay tone. In Reformed Lower Rhine and Westphalian parishes, a lay and clerical awakening after c. 1820 increasingly intensified local religious

581

Neander, Über den Kaiser Julian und sein Zeitalter; ein historisches Gemälde (Leipzig, 1812; 2nd edn. 1867); Der heilige Bernhard und sein Zeitalter (1813; 2nd edn. 1889); books on Gnosticism (1818), Chrysostom (1822), Tertullian (1825).

582

‘Diese Einseitigkeit ist ein böses Erbe, das sie der Frömmigkeit des 19. Jahrhunderts hinterlassen hat’, Wendland, ‘Studien’, 63.

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identity in contrast to a uniform Union in provinces which had experienced Napoleonic occupation, and incorporation in a centralizing Prussian state. A new Protestant consistory at Münster also faced the confessional dilemma posed by Lutheran and Reformed intercommunion in a Catholic landscape in which Catholic churchmen felt that militancy was necessary if the new Catholic church order of 1821 was to be secure after the sequestration of Catholic church property and endowments by the Prussian state in 1810, and increasing state centralization after 1815. A policy of active pastoral and charitable reorganization typified by the episcopates of two pious brothers awakened by the Münster circle of piety, Kaspar Maximilian Droste zu Vischering (1770–1846), bishop of Munster after 1825, and his younger more truculent brother, Clemens August (1773–1843), coadjutor and vicar-general of Münster (1807–20), and after appointment in 1836—influenced ironically by Crown Prince Frederick William—the controversial archbishop of Cologne. Their patronage of charitable brotherhoods and sisterhoods (Vincentian Brothers and Sisters of Mercy), insistence on the primacy of the Catholic primary school and seminary, and a Catholic upbringing in provinces where Protestants and Catholics were beginning to intermarry, shaped the identity of a Reformed pastoral awakening. The early industrialism in large urban Wuppertal parishes, notably Elberfeld (31,514 in 1840) and Barmen, also spurred on a Reformed pastoral mission. Gottfried Daniel Krummacher (1774–1837), as an Elberfeld pastor (1816–37), in colloquial preaching, by dividing the children of God from the worldly, in his insistence on committed individual pastoral care, through his ability to move children's hearts, and his work of religious tract distribution like that in Basle and Calw, caused an impressive local awakening (1816–18). It was a mission which influenced neighbouring Lutheran parishioners via his like-minded Lutheran colleague, Karl August Döring (1783–1844), in Elberfeld after 1816. Krummacher's son, Friedrich Wilhelm (1796–1868), was equally influential as a pastor and preacher at Ruhrort (1823–5), and Barmen thereafter. His Sunday and weekday services were filled to the last seat. Their pastoral work and that of like-minded clergy established a Reformed missionary network which became immensely influential in Prussia's Rhineland and Westphalia until 1945. Like the clergy who dominated Württemberg's post-war awakening, they were able to transcend local eighteenth-century

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Pietist devotion and homiletics (notably the warm saintly examples of Gerhard Tersteegen, 1697–1769, and Samuel Collenbusch, 1724–1803), and push the remnants of religious dissent to the fringes. Their support of local synodal order of the 1820s coloured by the neighbouring Dutch Réveil, also the Swiss and Württemberg awakenings, which became institutionalized as the Rhine-Westphalian Church Order of 1835 built in contrast to Prussia's Union, reflected the post-war Dutch and Prussian Reformed switch from presbyterian to hierarchical church structure, and introduced a conservative lay churchmanship like Württemberg's, which contrasted with the associative politics of liberal circles, and supported a socially conservative diacony: notably Fliedner's at Kaiserswerth (Ch. 16). The same was true of Johann Heinrich Volkening's (1796–1877) awakened pastorate in north-eastern Westphalia at Minden (1818–23), Gütersloh (1826–38), and the large country parish Jöllenbeck near Bielefeld (after 1838). His awakened dialect sermons and commitment to what he called, using Pietist vocabulary, his personal ‘cure of souls’ (Seelenpflege), drew large gathered congregations (police were at times called in to keep order) of town craftsmen, peasant farmers, and day-labourers, at a time of prolonged rural distress in a way which impressed and caused many to remember his fatherly, principled preaching as late as 1900. As in Barmen and Stuttgart, Volkening increasingly preached a missionary Christianity including temperance as the best way to prevent revolutionary change; it became influential in the form of mission societies in Herford, Lübbecke, Minden, and Bielefeld. He also introduced the first Protestant parish ‘deaconesses’ in 1844. A similar pattern of development took place in the same period in the landscape of large parishes and large estates (Gutsherrschaften) in Lutheran provinces east of the river Elbe. Revival strengthened local church identities too, given the unification of both Pomeranias (1815) and both Prussias (1829), and the attempted imposition of Lutheran and Reformed intercommunion at more or less the same time on gentrified local churches which usually shared boundaries with Catholic Polish parishes in the throes of a similar revival. In Pomerania, the young awakened Belows, Thaddens, and Senfft-Pilsachs were very successful in influencing their extended family (Verwandtschaften) such as the Puttkamers, von der Ostens, and Oertzens, their local clergy, and their servile peasantry. Their evangelism varied between that of Heinrich von Below (at Seehof

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near Stolp), who held humble Bible discussions with his gardener, forester, and shepherd, and ‘hours’ (Stunden) which included his family, domestics, estate craftsmen, peasants, and day-labourers; the evangelism of Senfft-Pilsach (von Thadden's brother-in-law), a popular barn-floor preacher (Scheunenprediger); and Adolf von Thadden's similar but more organized awakening from which came the Trieglaff conferences after 1829. The latter, held in the summer between the hay and rye harvests, united local parish clergy with hundreds of awakened colleagues from neighbouring Brandenburg, the Mecklenburgs, Schleswig, and Holstein in discussions about a Lutheran church for lay times, Bible distribution, and parish work. This mix of gentrified rural religious enthusiasm (often labelled ‘Jacobinism’ by the local magistracy) worried Berlin, Ritschl as Pomerania's new bishop (after 1827), and his parish clergy. Ritschl therefore ordered (9 June 1830) that revivalist meetings should include the local parish clergyman and be limited to twenty persons, and that laymen could conduct prayers only if they read out of the Bible and approved devotional authors, and used authorized hymnbooks.583 But in the following decade there was certainly more than a suggestion of an awakening similar to that in Denmark: large evening meetings after work attracted hundreds from neighbouring estates and villages and lasted until midnight; many distributed their own tracts and sermons; many refused to enter baptisms into parish registers, and the threat of official illegitimacy by town councils achieved little; threats of imprisonment served only to produce further unrest with countryfolk who were always quick-footed enough to be a step ahead of the constabulary, taking refuge in woods, farm-steads, mills, and sheepfolds. Authorities began to fear the collapse of local church order. Ritschl even wanted the Trieglaff conferences closed, seeing them as damaging (owing to the presence of pastors from other provinces) to the local church. But in the long run this new Pomeranian piety spread successfully, often via sympathetic parish clergy such as Moritz Görcke (d. 1883), pastor of Zarben near Treptow after 1836, and Gustav Knak (d. 1878) at Wusterwitz after 1834.584 Their evangelistic preaching, prayer hours, frequent home visiting stressing the importance of family prayers, weekday and Saturday evening prayers in vicarages, confrontation of the abuse of alcohol, preaching and singing their

583

Heyden, Kirchengeschichte Pommerns, 177–80.

584

Ibid. 185 passim.

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own modern hymns at the new mission festivals, complemented also a Pomeranian urban awakening of a kind similar to that in Berlin and the Prussias, which built on Bible and tract distribution supported by mayors, town and district officials, and business circles. Stettin's awakening characterized by lay promotion of Christian knowledge through its Bible Society (1816), and correspondence with Basle's Christianity Society, spread as Bible and religious tract societies in neighbouring home towns (Köslin, Gartz, Kolberg, Gollnow, Altentreptow, Kammin, Stargard, Greifenberg, Usedom). Bible festivals, usually on Reformation Day, in which cheap Bibles or parts were distributed to the poor, confirmands, hospitals, prisons, and houses of correction became as popular as the Pomeranian Mission Society, established at Stettin in 1824, and its auxiliaries in Barth (1824); Stralsund (1831); Jassow (1831); Pyritz, Stargard, and Cramenz (1832); Nehmer near Kolberg, and Wollin (1833); Kammin (1834), and Zarben (1837). The mother society at Berlin (1824) named Pomerania as the Prussian province which gave the strongest support in a mission which flowered well into the midcentury. In the new Province of Prussia (1828/9–78) (East and West) post-war awakened gentry inspiration was less in evidence, though local pious noble families such as the Dönhoffs, Dohnas, Auerswalds, and Barklays became supportive of rural and urban awakenings. In eastern Prussia, an awakening fitted into well-established but moderate Reformation church order. This was nourished by eighteenth-century Königsberg's practical-minded and established Pietism, its clergy's leadership (after c. 1780) of cautious liturgical reform, and a lively debate about the degree of local church independence conducted by Frederick William III and the big names associated with Prussian reform, who had fled to Königsberg as a sanctuary during Prussian defeat (1806–8). Eastern Prussia, associated with the alleged chivalry of the Teutonic Order (the Marienburg was rediscovered at this time), led official Prussian patriotic, moral, and Christian renewal. Königsberg became the seat of government of the new united Prussian province in 1829, and its Lutheran consistory governed after the abolition of Danzig's consistory in 1831.585 Under a very independent-minded governor, von Schön, Prussia became, therefore, the largest church province of the

585

Hubatsch, Kirche Ostpreußens, i. 277–31; codification of East Prussian provincial law (1787) before the Code, ibid. 266.

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new state, and one which became increasingly self-conscious about its local identity. Von Schön and Königsberg's consistory looked to their own church order and revised rite, and sought to diminish the former Lutheran West Prussian church as an ecclesia pressa under Catholic Poland. Proximity to Courland, Livonia, and Estonia brought for a couple of decades the influence of a flowering Moravianism, which made popular the sanctification of daily routine. Barbara Juliane von Krüdener (1764–1824), a daughter of the pious Moravian von Vietinghoff family, brought the devotion and charity she experienced at Riga after her ‘conversion’ in 1804—and during visits (1807–13) to Moravian settlements and to leading figures of the Alemannic revival—to Königsberg in wartime February 1807 and post-war February 1818, and drew (as experienced at Berlin by Moravian preachers) a good response from both upper and lower classes. Popular too was the awakened preaching likening Königsberg to the city on seven hills (Revelation 17: 9) of the Theosophist, Johannes Wilhelm Ebel (1784–1861), archdeacon after 1816 of Königsberg's largest parish, the Altstädtische Kirche, amongst poor citizenry, middle-class women, and local noble families such as the Auerswalds, Finckensteins, and Kanitzs, who turned to him to perform their baptisms, confirmations, and marriages. Long-lived Bishop Borowski reflected in 1822 how times had changed: late eighteenth-century sermons in which ‘virtue’ was recommended without mentioning faith in Jesus and the love of Jesus were not popular; most parishioners wanted to hear Jesus's words ‘without Me you can do nothing’.586 But these awakenings did not progress as they had elsewhere in Prussia. Magistrates and senior clergy were worried, as they had been in Pomerania, especially in a parish climate overheated by the proposed imposition of Frederick William III's romanticized Catholic rite, but more importantly, because many parish clergy in office had warmed, as Königsberg students, to Kant's practical ethics of action, which they regarded, rightly or wrongly, as not conflicting with a new sense of pastoral reform and collegiality in the new deanery meetings (Predigerkonferenz) inaugurated by Borowski's successor as general superintendent (1831–5), Ludwig August Kähler (1775–1855), professor of theology at Königsberg and senior of the Löbenicht church

586

Quoted ibid. 265.

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(1819–43). A budding awakening was killed off by the trumped-up trial of Ebel on 28 March 1839 organized by von Schön, a man who detested awakened preachers, in collusion with hostile city clergy and malicious city gossip. Ebel was unfrocked as a sectarian bigot (Mucker), to use a new colloquial term of abuse.587 Citizens and clergy demonstrated that they wished no more of an awakening which seemed to call in question an eastern Prussian Lutheran tradition of moderation and practicality. Even Königsberg's auxiliary Bible Society (1812) and Mission Society (1822) patronized by latitudinarian Bishop Borowski lost their appeal after his death (1831), despite their success to that date as a lay mission sponsored by London, which included a successful temperance movement on the farms and in the villages of Prussian Lithuania and the Masurian lakes (Oletzko, Lyck, Johannisburg, Lötzen, Sensburg, Angerburg, Neidenburg). The two decades (1830–50) became ones in which Neo-Lutheranism began to establish itself in eastern Prussian clergy deanery meetings. Western Prussia, which in contrast to its eastern neighbour lacked an established Reformation church order and proper parish provision in a Catholic Polish landscape, benefited from a Lutheran diaspora from Danzig, a new centre of Bible and home mission, and a zealous governor, von Schön, who wanted his new Prussian order to succeed. Danzig city clergy played a prominent role as provincial evangelists, though von Schön had strong misgivings about what he called their ‘affected piety’ (Frömmelei).588 Theodor Kniewel (1783–1859), third deacon at St Mary after ‘conversion’ in 1826, filled the nave at Mattins and Vespers, and on weekdays, and tried, especially during an English and European tour in 1842, to link his awakened Lutheran evangelism to a new European Evangelical alliance; Wilhelm Philipp Blech (1806–85), a pupil of Neander, Tholuck, and Hengstenberg, deacon (after 1832) and later pastor of Holy Trinity; Friedrich Karmann (1805–71), second clergyman of St Barbara after 1833; and their colleague Warchutzki (1802–?), vicar of Zempelburg (1829–55), successfully preached a similar awakened

587

Coined by von Schön, Tiesmeyer, Erweckungsbewegung in Deutschland, bk. 13, p. 67; bibliography, Hubatsch, i. 512.

588

Bork, Kirchenpolitik Theodors von Schön, III; Neumeyer, Kirchengeschichte Danzig und Westpreußen, ii. 12–13; Tiesmeyer, bk. 14, pp. 159–60; T. F. Kniewel, Reiseskizzen, vornehmlich aus dem Heerlager der Kirche, gesammelt aus einer Reise in England, Frankreich, Belgien, Schweiz, Oberitalien, Deutschland im Jahre 1842 (Leipzig, 1843–4), 2 vols; Cochlovius, Bekenntnis und Einheit, 58 and 219 passim.

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message to their Pomeranian clergy colleagues in Danzig and its hinterland. This fashioned a similar pious parish climate by 1850, and consolidated a conservative local church identity which, in the form of new deanery meetings, strengthened the formation of a trans-regional Neo-Lutheran parish clergy network along the Baltic coast from Kiel to Riga. More prominent in western Prussia, and more like the situation in Pomerania, was the support this clerical evangelism received from the lay patronage of Danzig's British Bible Society branch (1814), and those branches at Gumbinnen (1816), Marienwerder (1820), Thorn (1828), and Graudenz (1841). Danzig's Mission Society (1826; founded by Kniewel), and new mission festivals which, like those organized by Warchutzki at Zempelburg in the 1840s, resembled mass evangelization rallies, became very popular, as did Wichern's Home Mission and the temperance movement in the same decade (Ch. 16). But this was an evangelization in dispersed Lutheran parishes in a reorganized Catholic churchscape (after 1821), which, under Martin von Dunin (1774–1842), the archbishop of Gnesen-Posen (1831–42), and the suffragan bishop of Kulm (1833–56), was forced into the same militancy over the same issues as was the Rhineland and Westphalia under the Droste zu Vischerings after 1830. This served in the longer term to strengthen local western Lutheran identity at the expense of better relationships with Catholic and Polish neighbours, the Prussian Union, and a liberal political outlook. Blech and Karmann turned blatantly anti-democratic in 1848—Danzig's new Fatherland Society drew most of its support from their parishes; Kniewel founded his own ‘OldLutheran’ congregation in 1847 (he retired in 1855 to Stuttgart) as a protest to a Union he thought was more favourable to Rome and the Reformed church. This was symptomatic of a new feeling amongst a post-war Lutheran clergy generation in Hanover, the Mecklenburgs, Pomerania, Saxony, Silesia, Lutheran Bavaria, and Sweden (at Lund), that the Lutheran Reformation was in danger in the climate of Prussia's post-war Union, reorganization of the Catholic church, and a growing, secular-minded, parliamentary liberalism (Ch. 18).

16 Charity I. The Gradual End of Home-Parish Benevolence The loosening hold of the old dependent communal order during a long unsettling period of wartime crisis (1790–1815) added significant numbers to an already large vagrant poor: as high as 10 per cent in provinces (Ch. 12). How to pay for the poor in parishes unable to provide for them became a public issue. An enlightened middle-class ‘public’ organized in a network of many new Patriotic and Agricultural Societies realized that the early modern Protestant state—particularly the plurality of little German states with their puny mercantilist economies—and its many different charitable agencies (home-town and country parishes, remnants of Catholic religious foundations, guild fraternities, and manor households), simply could not cope with large numbers of beggars, and an increasing new rural poor of cottars and day-labourers who did not fit into home-parish poor provision. A new distinction in a new money economy between an able-bodied poor who should work and the indigent in need of local charity, coupled with the new idea of honorary poor provision, raised the issues of whether poverty was a matter for the church and home parish, or the state and local government, and, as the parish changed its social shape, whether the average parishioner had a say about these matters in the parish vestry. Management of the poor raised the question of parish democracy also. Hamburg struck a new path with the General Poor House Board (Allgemeine Armenanstalt, 1788) established by a farsighted local businessman, Caspar Voght (1752–1839). Division of the city into five main district poor boards, each with twelve subdistricts, and governed by a college (Armenkollegium) composed of honorific overseers, made poor relief (which distinguished the able-bodied spinning and sewing in workhouses from the indigent cared for by house visits—both were provided with some elementary schooling)

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a civil matter for the first time. Within the first decade, begging was almost stopped. Similar provision was already established in Bremen (1779), Lübeck copied Hamburg (1801), and Voght was called to Vienna (1801) and Berlin (1803). The state took notice also. The Danish Poor Commission (1787), part of the great Danish state reform programme (1784), introduced the Hamburg model to Copenhagen in 1799 (twelve main poor boards were established). A series of poor law acts (1802–3) in conjunction with the new system of obligatory education (1806, 1814) were passed for Danish home-town and country parishes. These acts put poor provision in the hands of honorary commissioners (the parish clergyman, one or more of the biggest landowners, and some of the better-off farmers). These parish commissions were the forerunners of the first provisional parish boards (sogneforstanderskaber, 1841), the model for elective parish councils (sogneråd, 1855)—the highest-taxed fifth elected the majority, other taxpayers the rest—which formed the basis of Danish municipal government after 1867. This development implied the beginning of the slow retreat of Reformation Lutheran parish benevolence exercised by parishioners as a merciful Christian home congregation (Gemeinde). Pastoral care became, whether parish clergy liked it or not, in the period of the awakening (c.1790–1840) more and more a matter for local government and its inert social contract, though a degree of modern professionalism even in local government really began only after 1860. This development brought into relief a possible distinction between the German adjectives, heil (spiritual redemption) and wohl (public welfare), and between the nouns, Fürbitte (intercessory prayer) and Fürsorge (intercession by public relief), although owing to the pervasive hold of custom, and anxiety in unsettled times about what too much parish democracy in vestries might bring, pastoral-minded Lutheran clergy and awakened laymen who established the first voluntary charitable agencies still thought more in terms of a Reformation church's ‘cure of souls’ (Seelsorge), sanctification: the eternal welfare of the soul beyond the present welfare of the body. New social thinking was therefore very difficult to introduce to poor parishes during a long period of wartime and post-war want, and in a parishscape where clergy and parishioners still saw poverty as a matter of Christian conscience and mercy (Mildtätigkeit, Barmherzigheit). In Sweden, the idea of the home parish feeding and caring for its

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own unfortunates, written into Sweden's Vagrancy Act (1642) and Church Law, and reinforced by state legislation which allowed the home parish to expel non-residential vagrants (hemortsrätt, 1788) at a time of land reform, lasted with little modification until the first Poor Relief Act (1847).589 Many clergy, despite their serious concern about a rising parish poor evidenced by a draft poor law (1811) and its debate in the parliaments of 1823, 1835, and 1840–1, saw charity still as the parish clergyman's responsibility to exhort his parishioners to give, and not a concern of the state. Few wished to divide church and state competence. Poverty, until the liberal humanitarian climate of the 1840s—the clergy in parliament petitioned the king on 29 July 1840 to end the flogging of vagrants without passports decreed in 1748–was bracketed with parish management of vagrancy by the parish clergyman and his vestry, which met (Clergy Privileges 1723, § 23) usually twice a year in St Philip and St James (1 May) and at St Michael (29 September). Also in most Protestant German states in the Vormärz, especially in gentrified Lutheran provinces such as Pomerania, the Mecklenburgs, Livonia, and Estonia, the home-parish principle (Heimatrecht in the Gemeinde), enshrined in the parish residence requirement giving entitlement to poor relief, was often sharpened by the influential squire in order to prevent a rise in the cost of provision for an increasing vagrant poor.590 The major questions in poor parishes which were being changed by the new money economy, of what kind of charitable provision should replace the old Reformation parish order of communal and dependent relationships, and of how it was to be paid for, therefore received no adequate answer either amongst parish clergy or amongst the awakened pioneers of the first Protestant voluntary charity initiatives, until the first municipal and better-funded poor legislation after 1860.

589

‘Hvart Härad och Sochn, skal föda sina Fattige,’ etc., Kyrkolag (1686), ch. 28, § 5; Arner, Svenska kyrkans ställning till frågan om de fattigas vård, 10–11, 20–1. The Anglican clergyman, Edward Clarke, on his journey to Torneå (he and Malthus parted ways at Vänersborg during their Scandinavian tour, 1799), noticed alms-boxes everywhere—a sign of honesty he thought—and very few beggars, Travels in Various countries, pt. III. Scandinavia, (1819), i. 142–3, 577.

590

Notably in Estonia and Livonia after only partial emancipation (1802–19).

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II. A Mix of Enlightened and Moravian Charity It was more than just a mere coincidence that Moravian fellowship, the small, caring, agricultural and craft Christian community, whose ethos found expression in Schleiermacher's charitable saying in the second of his Speeches (1799), ‘in order to comprehend the world and have religion, [an individual] must find humanity [which is] expressed in love, and by [works of] love’, became popular amongst Lutheran parish clergy reformers—Pietist and enlightened pastoral assumptions were no barrier in practice—and awakened laymen just as the old communal parish order broke down.591 At Riga, the Saxon, Sonntag, as senior of St James (1791–1803), and Livonia's general superintendent thereafter, preached a Moravian-coloured homiletics (owing to his caring eye for servile Latvian and Estonian parishioners and their awakening by the Brethren), in conjunction with his civic mission of better Christian schooling and support of British Bible mission. Like Schleiermacher, Sonntag, inspired by this Moravian climate, argued that Christianity is a religion of love and deeds, and not ‘vague expressions of gentleness and enthusiasm, or nice, sweet words; but [fellowship expressed] in eating, drinking, comforting, teaching, remembrance: sharing suffering and joy (Mitleiden und Mitfreuen)’.592 He amplified this message in his well-publicized sermon ‘Ermunterung zum Gemeingeiste’ preached at the service in St James at the opening of the 1795 baronial Landtag, and in frequent sermons afterwards, as a way of exhorting German barons to move with public-minded times, emancipate their poor ethnic peasantry, and provide them with adequate schooling so they could help themselves find a better life.593 Likewise, in a sermon preached at the service celebrating peasant emancipation (6 January 1820), he expressed gratitude to the Brethren for refreshing the Christian life of the Estonian and Latvian peasantry with Bibles and devotional books printed in their own languages. However, this was a time before Moravianism was perceived as a religious threat by a Neo-Lutheran German parish clergy generation.

591

‘Denn um die Welt anzuschauen und um Religion zu haben, muβ der Mensch erst die Menschheit gefunden haben, und er findet sie in Liebe und durch Liebe’, R. Otto (ed.), Über die Religion, 56.

592

Cited B. Hollander, ‘Karl Gottlob Sonntag’, Jahrbuch des baltischen Deutschtums für 1928, 123. Amongst Sonntag's many sermons, Über Menschenleben, Christenthum und Umgang mit Menschen (Riga, 1794–1802), 4 vols.

593

R. Wittram, ‘Politische Landtagspredigten’, in, B. Moeller and G. Ruhbach (eds.), Bleibendes im Wandel der Kirchengeschichte, (Tübingen, 1973), 335–8.

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Contemporary Berlin provided a similar Moravian charitable message, one which, in the person of Goβner as Jänicke's successor (1829–46) to the Moravian Bethlehemskirche in Rixdorf, linked up with Catholic Bavarian caritas preached by Sailer and his pupils, and the post-war southern German biblical awakening. The pious Silesian nobleman, Hans Ernst Freiherr von Kottwitz (1757–1843), Tholuck's Vater Abraham to Berlin's awakened upper class, introduced a form of poor relief inspired by a visit to Matthias Claudius in Reinbeck and reforming Hamburg (1780–1), and to the Moravian settlement of Gnadenfrei, which was situated close to his estate, Ober-Perlau, which he had bought when he married in 1783. Kottwitz (an admirer of Spangenberg) saw that not enough was being done to help poor urban parishioners at an unsettled time when it was necessary to have faith (Luke 22: 31): an active Moravian Christology unifying faith and fellowship was the best way to deal with parish destitution when a sense of a common Protestant ‘church’ was lacking, as he put it in a published confession of faith written for his friends (1824). Kottwitz's philanthropic voluntary employment agency (Freiwillige Beschäftigunsanstalt, 1808–9), which employed 450 people spinning and weaving, and a further 500 on home work (he established similar establishments in 1817 in Silesia—later managed by the Silesian Old Lutherans), was linked to daily evening prayers (Abendsegen) led by himself and like-minded teachers, and common prayer on Wednesday and Thursday evenings, which involved awakened city clergy such as Jänicke, Tholuck, Otto von Gerlach, and Goβner. Kottwitz linked Moravian fellowship (combining sanctification of daily tasks with advice, Beratung), with the newer notion of self-help, or occupation (Beschäftigung) in the workplace, the evangelism of the Prussian Bible Society (1814; he was one of its directors), and Berlin's mission to the Jews. The same tone, but enriched by Catholic caritas, was struck by Goβner as a pastor. This tone would become equally influential in Berlin after 1830, though its weak voluntary institutional base was to be exposed by Berlin's rapid industrial pauperization. Goβner organized voluntary sick visitation, Krankenbesuchsvereine (1833), founded a hospital, the Elisabeth-Krankenhaus, in 1837, and a new foreign mission (Missionsverein, 1842), which he linked to the Moravian notion of waiting for a calling and living ‘by faith’ rather than having a formal theological training and salary. Another prominent contemporary was the Strasburger, Johann

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Friedrich Oberlin (1740–1826), who chose in 1767 to be parish clergyman of the extremely poor upland (‘Steinthal’) parish of Waldersbach in the Vosges mountains. Oberlin can be seen as a typical example of the enlightened clergyman. He was an amateur physician; a farmer (Louis XVIII's Agricultural Society awarded him a gold medal in 1818; the following year saw his election to the Legion of Honour); a mechanic who helped blast rocks and level roads; an engineer who threw the Pont de Charité over the local river Bruche; an educator who valued Basedow's pedagogy; and for a while (until the Terror), like Zschokke, an admirer of the neighbouring French Republic as a political system which allowed all to share in the common good.594 On 9 April 1794, he therefore decided to stop conducting Lutheran public worship; he discarded his cassock and for a short time until 1795 called himself a ‘citizen’. On the other hand, Oberlin's civic and practical-minded pastorate was in essence one inspired by the warm Christocentric preaching of the Strasburg city clergyman (thirty years in office) and university professor (since 1769), Siegmund Friedrich Lorenz (d. 1783), a disciple of Rambach, and a man open to Strasburg's small Moravian congregation which blossomed after 1770 in a milder religious environment in which it was seen by enlightened city clergy as a useful ally against Lutheran Orthodoxy, and by the Lutheran Orthodox as an ally against their more enlightened colleagues.595 Oberlin thus warmed to awakened visitors such as Madame Krudener or the Nassau Pietist Johann Heinrich Jung-Stilling (1740–1817), supported the British Bible Society, setting up with his son a local branch at Waldersbach in 1805, and sponsored the first small weaving enterprises and children's homes. Oberlin saw the Lutheran pastor as an imitator of Christ; as a man who acted from the heart, voluntarily exercising faith. He possessed confidence in God's guidance (Führung), sought sanctification (Heiligung), preached

594

Oberlin was a friend and admirer of the Gallican and republican Abbé Henri Baptiste Grégoire (1750–1831). As the ‘constitutional’ bishop of Blois (1791–1801), he argued for the reconciliation of the Catholic church with political liberty, and opposed Napoleon's concordat.

595

Adam, Kirchengeschichte der Stadt Strassburg, 464–6, 485–6. Lorenz's two-volume cycle of sermons on the Gospel, Gottgeheiligte Sonntags-Ruhe (Tübingen, 1783), 3,000 copies, one of several collections possessing Evangelical brevity, clarity, and warmth, distributed to the poor free of charge by awakened urban circles in Altona, Frankfurt, Strasburg, Nuremberg, and Basle, was disposed of in six months; another two-volume cycle on the Epistles, Sonntägliche Gottgeheiligte Abendruhe (Tübingen 1784), was still popular in Alsatian homes after 1918.

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a fellowship of love, emphasized the need for intercessory prayer for each individual parishioner, and sponsored freewill offerings. Welfare and poor relief needed a religious sanction. Oberlin even established, using Zinzendorf's example, a Société Chrétienne (1781), but was forced to abolish it in 1783 when he began to fear schism at a restless time. Oberlin's charity, like that practised at Riga and Berlin, was expressive of an awakening with ecumenical overtones before 1830.

III. Saving Children Active Lutheran voluntary charitable work began—in contrast to the industrial and urban Anglican north of England and Calvinist Scotland—in the pre-industrial landscape of Vormärz Protestant Germany, with the many orphaned and homeless children left by the long period of war (1790–1815) and the failure of home-parish care. Saving children had partly to do with the pious educational legacy of Francke's institutes, though their barracks atmosphere and mercantilist teaching received less emphasis; partly because of the influence of the views on childhood promulgated by the Swiss educator, Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi (1746–1827), upon the Lutheran and Reformed family; partly because of the still-influential Moravian view of the child; and partly owing to the notion of self-help in a new market fashioned by Political Economy. Children began to be valued for their own sake, the relationship between child and educator became warmer, a Christian upbringing became less a matter of restraining sinful hearts and more of a caring modern soteriology nurtured by the recent availability of handy and cheap New Testaments, and children were to be gainfully occupied in both a moral and economic sense: the German noun for ‘occupation’ (Beschäftigung) was a keyword used by organizers of many private pious initiatives. The response, in wartime Thuringia, by the poor Weimar bookseller, Johannes Daniel Falk (1768–1828), was exemplary. In his middle age he served the French briefly as an adviser with sound local knowledge by collecting a wartax before and after the battles of Jena (1806) and Leipzig (1813). Falk was appalled by the way the mass of beggars, and the even greater number of orphans left by fathers in the army and abandoned by mothers, that he saw roaming the streets of Saxon and Thuringian towns and country roads

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mocked his training in enlightened and idealistic Hallesian theology (1787–90), and his second-rate attempt at participation in Weimar's Life and Letters.596 Also he had lost four of his own children within a few months, so, when homeless children knocked at his door, he took them in. But the flow did not stop, and he was forced, together with a local pastor, to found at Weimar the Gesellschaft der Freunde in der Not (1813), which for the first time involved Weimar's Lutheran burghers in voluntary care. Falk settled the orphans in the private homes of Weimar's tiny middle class, amongst its craftsmen and local farmers, who acted simultaneously as foster-parents and teachers training their charges as apprentices, or domestics. Falk also built a home, the Lutherhof (1823), where the children (some even helped build it) came together every Sunday to be looked after and have their progress recorded. Falk sang hymns, read and explained the New Testament, taught his children something about everyday affairs, and played with them. There was little system in Falk's family circle, at the heart of which was the happy Pestalozzian personality of the individual child and a Christian Franckean upbringing lacking the stick. Falk was one of the pioneers of the modern congregational hymn and liturgy. A Moravian upbringing by his mother in musical Danzig gave Falk a strong sense of song bonding a congregational liturgy. His Sunday school children sang not only his own hymns such as the touching children's Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun hymn—popular still today—‘O du fröhliche, o du selige’ (1816; arranged c.1850 to a Sicilian Marian hymn tune which Herder brought back from his Italian trip, 1789), but Falk also let his children sing a cappella responses by Palestrina and other older liturgical settings during his explanation of the Lord's Prayer.597 This charitable response and liturgical initiative, a ‘mission in our midst’ as Falk put it, inspired Wichern (see below) and congregational singing in his Rauhes Haus at Horn close by Hamburg. On the other hand, Falk's care could only function if need was not too great, and if there were enough Christian parents about who could share and foster the idea of inward sanctity as a guide in an amoral post-war world. This was true of other early individual

596

‘Ich war ein Lump mit tausend anderen Lumpen in der deutschen Literatur, die dachten, wenn sie an ihren Schreibtisch säβen, so sei der Welt geholfen’, RE, s.v. ‘Falk’.

597

Johann Falk, Der Vaterunser (Weimar, 1822); Leupold, Die liturgischen Gesänge, 73–4, 88. It was still customary for the congregation to quietly accompany the priest's intoned prayers.

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charitable initiatives, such as the school for orphaned girls in Hamburg founded in the same year as Falk's Society by Amalie Sieveking (1794–1859), the daughter of the Hamburg syndic Karl Sieveking (1787–1847), Wichern's patron, or the children's home or asylum (1822) founded by Count Adalbert von der Recke-Volmerstein (1791–1878), which he called—using English precedent—a Rettungshaus, in the secularized Trappist monastery on his estate at Düsselthal near Düsseldorf. Awakened Württembergers, though, influenced by a neighbouring Swiss Pestalozzian and religious awakening, established their own type of children's care in the 1820s. Its success almost overshadowed Württemberg's Bible and tract mission: the politician, Robert von Mohl, counted some twenty-two children's homes in 1845: more than anywhere else at the time, if Switzerland was excepted.598 The pioneers were the Zeller brothers, the educators Christian Heinrich (1779–1860), and Karl August (1774–1840): two pious sons of a Württemberg clergy dynasty who introduced Pestalozzian principles to children's homes and primary schools in their native land. Karl August was also appointed to introduce this pedagogy to Königsberg's royal orphanage and East Prussian schools (1809–22). He worked subsequently (1822–34) in the Prussian Rhineland at Cologne, Kreuznach, Wetzlar, and Bonn, before retiring to help his brother in Württemberg. Both were critics of the way their parents had seen only the future grown-up in the child—neither had there been any need for canings to be commensurate with the mistakes both made in Latin grammar—and under Pestalozzi's kind eye, and with voluntary contributions by like-minded burghers, had made a start at St Gallen (1805–6) with a little charity school providing a Christian education for ‘spiritual orphans’: a term which included children from better-off homes lacking a Christian upbringing. They also argued that the new interest in foreign mission was not enough: it was just as important to train Christian schoolteachers for the many poor and orphaned children in the impoverished parishes of Württemberg and Baden; every piece of happy missionary news was a stab in the heart for Christian Heinrich, when he thought about the plight of ‘so-called Christian children’ back at home: where need was great, therefore, a Christian institutional home had to be provided.

598

Lehmann, Pietismus . . . Württemberg, 204–5.

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The restoration of a happy Christian family thus became the basic principle of the first southern German coeducational charity school and training centre for charity schoolteachers at home, and the new southern German Protestant diaspora in Russia and the United States (Freiwillige Armenschullehrer- und Armenkinderanstalt, 1820). It was housed by Christian Heinrich, its first lifelong director, in the old Teutonic castle of Beuggen in Baden, rented cheaply from the grand duke, maintained solely by freewill offerings, and kept by Christian Heinrich—who, like Falk and Wichern, disliked theology—at a polite distance from liberal Württemberg's church establishment. Working on the notion that small is beautiful and easier to supervise—there were never more than seventy-five inmates at any one time—children were gathered into ‘families’ led by lay men and women who combined in their teaching Pestalozzi's and Falk's ‘mission in our midst’ (Wohnstube) and a Franckean message of the need to change one's disposition and mind by prayer and work: as Christian Heinrich put it, prayer without work leads to the monastery, work without prayer leads to revolution. In this sense, Beuggen and its institutional offspring provided a conservative education which complemented that of evangelical Swabian clergy. Notwithstanding the reaction of the Zellers to their strict parental upbringing, Beuggen was a school with strict house rules and fixed hours of worship, teaching, work, and recreation. Occupation was found in the Swabian crafts of spinning, knitting, basket- and straw-weaving. Theatre and pub were out of bounds; closed institutional festivals consisting of founders' day, Christmas, Easter, Whitsun, and those of the agricultural autumn calendar—the harvest festival and the potato harvest—were cherished. Beuggen thus pleased Württemberg's court, which, in founding the Paulinenpflege at Stuttgart in the same year, and in financial support of many new homes—usually named Wilhelmshilfe or Wilhelmspflege—encouraged in turn devotion towards the royal house amongst a new generation of Württemberg Pietists.

IV. Diacony New Testament ‘diacony’, use of women ‘deaconesses’ by the Early Church to care for the poor and the sick, was rediscovered by Protestant lay men and women in the bleak wartime and post-war homeless landscape fashioned by the chance course of the revolutionary

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and Napoleonic wars. There were too many men, women, and children who could not be reached by an overstretched official poor relief, and by primitive hospitals which frequently mistreated patients, given the practice of hiring untrained nurses. Many women who, as untrained nurses in patriotic associations (Frauenvereine), cared for the dying, wounded, and homeless, began to sense an urgent need for more effective Protestant charitable organization outside home parishes, particularly in the Rhineland and Westphalia. As travel became easier after the peace of Vienna, this became possible in Rhenish provinces which, like Basle, were open to British and Dutch evangelical social work (the Christian rehabilitation of Newgate's female prisoners and the provision of evening shelter for the London homeless by the saintly Quaker, Elizabeth Fry (1780–1845), became well-known in this way), and in provinces where Catholic caritas was exercised by reinstated Catholic orders before and after 1814, such as the French Sisters of Charity and St Charles Borromeo, or a German copy, the Clemens-Schwestern founded in 1808 by wartime Münster's caring coadjutor, Clemens August Droste zu Vischering. Establishing such charities was also easier in provinces where Reformed and Lutheran congregations began to sink their doctrinal differences—more quickly amidst a local Catholic revival—and turned to a Protestant home mission propagating handy and cheap British Bibles and Testaments. A luminary in this field was Theodor Fliedner (1800–64), a young Lutheran ordinand with an eye open to these hard times, who rebelled, as had the Zellers, against the enlightened moral values of his Lutheran father, the vicar of impoverished upland Eppstein in Nassau, and, as had Falk, against enlightened moral theology which he learnt as a student at Giessen and Göttingen (1817–20). Appointed in 1822 to a tiny and under-endowed Union parish in Catholic Kaiserswerth on the Lower Rhine, which comprised some fifty Lutheran and seventy Reformed clothworkers, a destitute Fliedner was confronted, as had been his predecessor, with the need to collect money to augment his paltry stipend in order to exist, to run the parish school, and to attend to parishioners. As an observant, pious soul interested in a revival of personal pastoral care, Fliedner learnt that he could combine expeditions to collect money in nearby wealthier Elberfeld and Barmen, and down the Rhine to the Netherlands and England (1823–4)—the interest from 21,000 thalers that he raised was invested in Dutch government bonds at

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Amsterdam and provided Kaiserswerth with a secure financial base—with learning from what he called the ‘apostolic simplicity’ (apostolische Einfachheit) of voluntary urban charity apparent in the hospitals, orphanages, and homes for the elderly in Amsterdam and other Dutch towns maintained by the Dutch Reformed Church and Réveil, and that practised in London by English Evangelical lay preachers, and by Quaker institutions for sick, poor, and homeless children, as a way of making good a pastoral failure to address these hard times by an over-academic German Protestant pastorate. But Fliedner was more in sympathy with neighbouring Dutch Reformed culture—he liked in particular the quiet Sunday in Evangelical Amsterdam, where throughout the city, fifty preachers shared the preaching at 7 a.m., 10 a.m., 12 a.m., 2 p.m., and 5 p.m., in contrast to the ‘unholy’ bustle of German towns—than English culture from which he was separated by his poor mastery of English, and by distance.599 Fliedner's English sojourn strengthened his ‘purely evangelical and Christian’ interpretation of Prussia's Union, and lay churchmanship. He rejected the Anglican liturgy, whose language he probably misunderstood, as being too Catholic, thinking that its ritual weakened the homiletic nature of the sermon in the mind of the congregation, and strengthened the idea of a performance of an opus operatum amongst average churchgoers. He thought the liturgy too long: many rubrics misled the officiating clergyman into simple recitation, bored the congregation, and diminished the sense of fellowship given by a congregational hymn. He also strongly disapproved of Oxford University's emphasis on the Classics alone; that students were not required to learn Hebrew; that the New Testament was sometimes read fortuitously—only because it happened to be written in one of the Classical languages. This experience provided the material for a tract for the times which he published the following year as a member of the ‘Evangelical Party’ of Frederick William III's ‘High Church’ Prussian rite (1822), and his subsequent active publicity for Rhineland-Westphalian Lutheran and Reformed church order.600 Five further visits to England after 1824, notably a trip of 1832 where Fliedner met Thomas Chalmers, Robert Owen, and

599

Fliedner, Collektenreise (1831), i. 387 passim.

600

Fliedner, Liturgische Mitteilungen aus Holland und England mit Bezug auf die neue preuβische Agende (1825); Gerhardt, Fliedner, i. 382 passim ; Schnabel, Deutsche Geschichte, iv. 334–5, 345.

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Elizabeth Fry, coupled with his local experience of Catholic nursing by Strasburg's Sisters of Mercy, and the first German society for the rehabilitation of prisoners, the local Rheinisch-westfälische Gefängnisgesellschaft (1827, visited by Elizabeth Fry during 1831–2), convinced him of the need to extend the evangelical voluntary principle beyond his home parish. The outcome was the little ‘asylum’, or refuge, for female discharged prisoners (Evangelische Asyl, 1833) established by Fliedner and his wife, Friederike (1800–42) in their garden, and shortly afterwards, Kaiserswerth's female nursing college (Bildungsanstalt für evangelische Krankenpflegerinnen, 1836) under the directorship of Friederike until her untimely death; Fliedner believed that a nursing diaconate which also looked after children was best served by women. Kaiserswerth, in contrast to Rhenish Catholic sisterhoods and nunneries, was run by ‘sisters’, dressed in apostolic blue with a white cowl, who took no vows but promised to serve for five years. It also acted as a motherhouse for Evangelical mission by deaconesses in Fliedner's early-Church sense (wie zu der Apostel Zeiten), though in the male-dominated officialdom of the Prussian world the title ‘deaconess’ was first recognized only in 1844. Florence Nightingale heard about Kaiserswerth through Bunsen in 1842, and noted in her diary, on 31 July 1850 while returning to England from Egypt, her feeling (seeing the river Rhine, ‘dearer to me than the Nile’, at Kaiserswerth) of being like the pilgrim who first sets eyes on the Kedron, and that she found Fliedner's community to be a rich source of refreshment. A two-week stay led to a longer stay the following year in an institution whose routine she described in a letter to her mother (July 1851): I never had time even to send my things to the wash. We have ten minutes for each of our meals, of which we have four. We get up at 5; breakfast ¼ before 6. The patients dine at 11; the Sisters at 12. We drink tea (i.e. a drink made of ground rye) between 2 and 3, broths at 12 and 7; bread in the two former, vegetables at 12. Several evenings in the week we collect in the Great Hall for a bible lesson. . . . I find the deepest interest in everything here and am so well in body and mind. This is life. Now I know what it is to live and to love life, and really I should be sorry now to leave life. . . . I wish for no other earth, no other world than this.601

601

C. Woodham-Smith, Florence Nightingale 1820 –1910 (London, 1950), 90; M. Vicinus and B. Nergaard (eds.), Ever Yours, Florence Nightingale: Selected Letters (London, 1989), 43.

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Florence warmed to this spartan little Christian community of faith, life, and work (in 1851, 116 deaconesses: twentyseven resident, sixty-seven travellers) in which, as Fliedner taught, anyone could pray aloud extempore before the whole community whenever it was called for, and children were fêted, especially on their birthdays, as was Moravian custom. But she despaired of the hospital (about 100 beds) as the worst part of Kaiserswerth—though she had never met a higher tone and greater devotion in a hospital, which should serve as a model for emancipated English ladies living in ‘busy idleness’—its nursing by deaconesses who were ‘mostly of peasant stock’ was unprofessional, and its hygiene was ‘horrible’.602 Also important, as apostolic Kaiserswerth grew, were its printing press and bookshop, which complemented similar enterprises at Calw, Düsselthal, and Wichern's Rauhes Haus, as part of a new missionary press producing cheap school Bibles, hymn-books, religious tracts, annual reports, and calendars. This awakened salesmanship coloured the first foreign daughter foundations: Pittsburgh (1849), Jerusalem (1851), and Constantinople (1852).

V. Innere Mission The Christian family principle of ‘works of saving love’ covering all Protestant German and, after the mid-century, Scandinavian, voluntary, charitable, and social work, expanded in the home mission of Johann Hinrich Wichern (1808–81), son of a Hamburg notary. In the long run, Wichern was possibly the most important figure amongst German and Scandinavian pioneers of Protestant social work, because he founded the first central organization at the first Protestant German national Kirchentag at Wittenberg (1848). The Central Committee of the Innere Mission co-ordinated the many new local Protestant charitable initiatives nationally. Wichern was politically significant too in his capacity as a co-ordinator who, because of his close mid-century connection with Frederick William IV and like-minded Prussian upper-class circles who hoped to restore a ‘Christian state’, fashioned, more by circumstance than by intention (he had little time for an established Landeskirche), a Protestant and conservative-minded Christian social politics which kept a distance from the worlds associated with the emergent liberal and socialist

602

Woodham-Smith, 82, 91.

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‘secular city’ after 1850. In this way Wichern organized nationally and articulated politically an awakened Protestant subculture (to borrow the Dutch notion of Verzuiling) of Christian social work, already visible in Württemberg, the Rhineland, and Westphalia before 1848, which reached out to the unfortunate of the world before the advent of modern urban industry. However, there was a limit to what could be done at this time. Voluntary organization of charity was looked on with extremely suspicious eyes by rulers in Protestant and Catholic Germany (in absolute Denmark too before 1849). For instance, Ludwig I of Bavaria commented for instance in the margin of the application for a charter by Munich's first Vinzenzverein (1845), that the association was a very praiseworthy undertaking as long as it followed its charitable purpose, but care should be taken to ensure that it did not turn out otherwise at a time when it was fashionable for associations to be used for ‘political agitation’. British Nonconformity also, once it began mission (Baptists in Hamburg after 1823, Methodists in Württemberg and Baden after 1831, and the more successful Irvingites in both after 1836), therefore lost its initial ‘social’ appeal in this churchscape of early Protestant social work.603 In contrast to Fliedner, Wichern brought the mix of the festive, enlightened, and pious which one could expect from an upbringing in a big, open-minded, seaport city with a long conservative Reformation liturgical tradition (Wichern was educated in the Johanneum), and in the period c.1780–1820, amongst an enlightened upper-class citizenry who began to warm to philanthropy and a subsequent charitable awakening. Wichern was different too in the way he linked the idea of Evangelical Catholicity with Christian social work run on a national basis, given the influence of a north German apostolically minded awakening. He loved Goβner's little tract, Weg zur Seligkeit (1826), lent to him by his friend, Amalie Sieveking; also Thomas à Kempis's Imitation, and Fénelon's religious writings translated by Matthias Claudius (three volumes, 1803–11), which he read with Claudius's eldest son, Johannes (1783–1859), vicar of Sahms near Schwarzenbeck, who acquainted him too with Düsselthal and Elberfeld's charity. Wichern learnt much from

603

Shanahan, German Protestants Face the Social Question, i. 67; Ludwig I, ‘Daβ Vereine zu politischen Umtrieben angewendet werden, ist heute zu Tage gang und gäbe’, B. Kühle, Der Münchener Vinzenzverein; eine typische Laienorganisation katholischer Caritas (Wuppertal-Elberfeld, 1935), 28; Schnabel, Deutsche Geschichte, iv. 211–12.

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helping out in Hamburg's first Sunday schools initiated by the saintly pastor, Johann Wilhelm Rautenberg (1791–1865), in Hamburg's new poor suburban underworld; much too at Göttingen (1828–30) under Friedrich Lücke (1791–1855), a pupil of Neander and Schleiermacher who taught a pastoral New Testament and wrote a commentary on the pastoral in St John (1820–5); even more at Berlin (1830–2) as a devoted student of Neander and his rediscovery of the loving apostolic period, of Schleiermacher as a practical theologian who emphasized Moravian fellowship (Gemeinschaft) and a Protestant church free of meddlesome royal hands, and of Kottwitz, Otto von Gerlach, and Goβner as the pioneers of a new city mission to Berlin's poor modern suburbs. Wichern's home mission began in 1833, the same year as Fliedner's little asylum, with his children's home and training school which he housed in an unkempt cottage known as Das rauhe Haus, and on land at Horn donated by his patron, Karl Sieveking. If the Rauhes Haus was similar to Beuggen and Düsselthal as a family settlement of children, it differed in taking mainly illegitimate or orphaned boys (a few girls) between the ages of 5 and 14 from Hamburg's underworld, whose grim face Wichern had seen while working in the Sunday schools. Wichern's enterprise could be likened to Herrnhut (Wichern was aware of Moravian Neuwied), but also to contemporary charitable mission practised by the Vincentians, and to Adolf Kolping's (1813–65) Catholic Gesellenvereine at Elberfeld in the 1840s. The Rauhes Haus community was an offspring of ecumenical times: of a popular ‘catholicity’ expressed by Wichern's Zinzendorfian saying, ‘We believe in a core of Christian conviction in all confessions because all Christians believe in the living Christ. ’604 Wichern insisted on a new family life free of any links with ugly, confined, back-alley Hamburg housing and the barracks atmosphere of urban orphanages, and the Rauhes Haus grew quickly into a garden village consisting of many small houses—known in Catholic parlance as hostels (Konvikte)—containing about a dozen children each. Lay brothers without theological qualifications combined religious instruction with training their charges as craftsmen and artisans: but the word ‘deacon’, favoured by Fliedner, was avoided, since Wichern disliked its association with ecclesiastical office. Worship in a central chapel (Betsaal) had a touch

604

Cited ibid. 434; Wichern's openness to the Catholic church: Gerhardt, Wichern, ii. 69, 191, 285–6, 345; iii. 254.

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of the Moravian. Wichern attached great importance to the sacramental in baptism and communion as symbolizing victory over the Devil and his works. Children, within their ‘families’, were not allowed to remain passive; the Bible was hallowed and they took turns as readers (Vorleser) within a common act of prayer. Pauline advice (Philippians 3: 13, 14) to forget the past (dahinter) and aspire to a better future (da vorne), and a Pietist emphasis (as at Düsselthal and Beuggen) on the need to renew one's mind, was central. As Wichern put it, to save (retten) children meant the same as the verb, selig zu machen, used in the German Bible and by Pietists. New arrivals were allowed to speak only with Wichern about their past experience, and they were given new Christian names in a community which tried to build confidence in a home, ‘without walls, fences, keys, bars, and spies’.605 There they would learn afresh a Christian Alltag of family warmth, work, play, and the festive expressed by common birthday celebrations. Christian youth mattered, and Wichern, like Fliedner, exercised personal supervision, with a file on each pupil, a house chronicle, and progress conferences. Wichern's work ethic was almost Moravian as well: each child was provided with a little pocket-book of sayings (Spruche); rural crafts were fostered; Horn's children were not allowed to be factory workers. The festive was emphasized with services on commemoration days (Gedenktage), the day of arrival, birthday, baptism, the day of departure, or the day youths went out on mission, and there were many institutional festivals such as those which celebrated a house's foundation stone or new roof, or recounted the history of the settlement, or consisted of an annual Midsummer walk, accompanied by flag and trumpets, in the nearby beechwood. The Rauhes Haus was a fellowship of the juvenile world before assuming adult responsibility in which everyone had his allotted place and craft task. Christian publicity became as important as it had been at Calw and Kaiserswerth, if not more so. A printing press and publishing house (Agentur des rauhen Hauses) were established in 1842. A mission periodical, Fliegende Blätter—a name evoking the post-coach—which published a mixture of Gospel and charity news, followed in 1844. Wichern knew how to sell himself as a worthy recipient of Hamburg's commercial wealth. His new press, the

605

Cited Schnabel, Deutsche Geschichte, iv. 431.

CHARITY

417

introduction of annual reports (Jahresberichte) on his enterprise, and his large number of fund-raising tours after 1837, which targeted both urban wealth in cities such as Hamburg and Berlin and awakened noble and court patronage, established what became known from the first published reference (1843) as Innere Mission.606 At this time too, branches were established at Robye near Lund in Sweden (1839; Charles XIV bestowed Wichern with his first order the following September: a gold medal for ‘laudable achievements’); near Christiania in Norway (1841); and at Reval (1843).607 Wichern received active sponsorship too from the Danish Queen Caroline Amalie (1796–1881), who had visited Horn officially in 1840 after a previous visit in 1838 as consort to Crown Prince Christian (VIII). She was loved for her work amongst young children, as the patron of asylums at Copenhagen (1819; a school run on Grundtvigian pedagogic principles was added in 1841) and Odense (1839), and as a woman inspired by Elizabeth Fry and Amalie Sieveking, who sponsored the first Danish female association for the poor and the sick (Kvindelig plejeforening, 1843).608 Wichern's ecclesiology was political. This was novel. Wichern used Evangelical Catholicity as the principle in an associational mission reaching out to baptized Christians beyond the local parish. He had in mind the first national gatherings of Protestant churchmen such as Berlin's 1846 Synod, which he hoped to influence. His Volkskirche, based on the saving quality of active Christian love (Liebestatigkeit) learnt from a family New Testament and Luther's Little Catechism, as the way to heal modern social distress, was informed by both a theological view of mankind, hence its innate conservative tendency in social policy, and an ecumenical view informed by the rediscovery of the Apostolic Age by his romantically inclined generation, which rejected Protestant German unity as a ‘union’ of Germany's two major denominations, or as a confederation of Landeskirchen. A voluntary lay priesthood could help the divinely instituted clergy office, and so also overcome the fragmentation of Protestant Germany and its isolation from Protestant Europe. But Wichern was a child of an order which, despite the gathering pace of change, was still pre-industrial and one sanctioned by the Christian family, church, and state; one, so Wichern believed, where

606

Shanahan, 82.

607

‘För berömliga gärningär’, Gerhardt, Wichern, i. 265.

608

Harald Jørgensen, Omsorgen for børn og unge i København gennem 250 år (1970).

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natural inequalities arose from inherited privilege and wealth. Wichern lived at a distance from the modern notion of their being an imbalance between man and the environment in which he lived and worked. The idea of the inert state and its social legislation as an instrument of social reform was as alien to him as it was to his like-minded Catholic contemporaries who saw the working man's moral Christian character, and not the circumstance of employment, as the issue of the age; Wichern defined the issue, in his report to the 1848 Wittenberg Kirchentag, as ‘the alienation of the masses from God’. Within his Volkskirche in which a lay priesthood was not a right but a duty of service, intercession, and sacrifice exercised by all baptized Christians, rich and poor, the Innere Mission was so much more than church provision of poor relief. ‘Christian-social work’ and ‘city-mission’ meant Christian fellowship combined with social responsibility.609 This in turn implied that all forms of early socialism—Saint-Simonian, democratic, protocommunist—were condemned as irreligious, as was a new urban factory proletariat in Berlin or Elberfeld. However, Wichern did possess a knowledge of the urban social issues of his day which was exceptional amongst these Protestant German pioneers of a Christian social gospel. He had read Lorenz vom Stein's book on socialism and communism in contemporary France (1842), though he passed over vom Stein's point about inert public government and how political programmes could multiply wealth and happiness; had become aware of Owen through Karl Sieveking; possessed a firsthand knowledge of English industrial conditions and factory legislation via his close friend, Victor Aimé Huber (1800–69), who had visited industrial northern England in the summer of 1844; had read Engel's account (1845) of working conditions in Manchester; and had translated, with Otto von Gerlach (1847), Chalmers's account of religious charity based on self-help in distressed early-industrial Glasgow; and had supported its chequered introduction four years earlier by Gerlach as ‘diacony’ to his poor suburban Berlin parish. But Wichern's reading of this new urban literature served to strengthen his idea of Christian moral regeneration in his People's Church.610

609

‘Christlicher Sozialismus’, ‘Stadtmission’: Gerhardt, Wichern, ii. 46, 109; Schnabel, Deutsche Geschichte, iv. 437–9 passim.

610

O. Gerlach, Die kirchliche Armenpflege, nach dem englischen des Dr. Chalmers bearbeitet (Berlin, 1847); Shanahan, 88 passim ; Holl, ‘Chalmers und die Anfänge der kirchlich-sozialen Bewegung’, Gesammelte Aufsätze iii. 431–3.

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Wichern's ecclesiology was defined, unfortunately, at a time when Neo-Lutherans began to emphasize the sacerdotal nature of the clergy office—voluntary churchmanship, however well-intentioned, was seen as a threat—and when liberal theologians and clergy were more concerned with a free Protestant church, and with freedom of learning and self-expression. Wichern's friendship with Frederick William IV, who seemed, in the 1840s, to become open to Protestant social mission, was unfortunate in the long run.611 If it made the social diacony of Wichern's, Fliedner's, and Huber's officially respectable—Horn and Kaiserswerth brothers and deaconesses began to be employed in Prussian asylums, orphanages, and prisons—the subsequent charge of collusion with Frederick William's conservative and hierarchic ‘Christian State’ was easily made, despite Wichern and Fliedner's misgivings about royal charity, which, to choose one prominent example, that of Berlin's royal hospital ‘Bethania’ (Diakonissenkrankenhaus, 1845–7), mixed romantic notions of knightly honour and medieval orders. Collusion with the establishment was a political stigma which German and Scandinavian home mission found subsequently very hard to shrug off. Much later, the Saxon, Friedrich Naumann (1860–1919), a senior brother at Horn (1883–5), thereafter pastor of Langenberg near industrial Zwickau (1886–90) and a founder there of one of the first Protestant Workingmen's Associations (1890), realized that already in 1848 Wichern's People's Church and Christian Socialism were doomed to failure. Germany's Protestant social order was already too divided. A gracious name, money, and a little voluntary (usually female) support was all one could really expect from courts and nobles; a new liberal, urban middle-class was not interested; and given Wichern's anathema on Socialism, a rising new urban proletariat, condemned to solving the conditions of its workplace and poor suburban housing, would be hostile to Protestant moral renewal.

611

Bunsen introduced Frederick William IV to Matthew Arnold, Frederick Denison Maurice, and Thomas Carlyle during his English visit to attend the marriage of the Prince of Wales (1842). Gerlach, with the architect Stüler and two ministers prompted by the king, assessed the Anglican church's pastoral work in the same summer: Amtliche Berichte über die in neuerer Zeit in England erwachte Thätigkeit für die Vermehrung und Erweiterung der kirchlichen Anstalten von O. von Gerlach, Uhden, Sydow, Stüler (Potsdam, 1845) cited Holl, iii. 429 passim.

17 Rediscovery I. Partial Rediscovery of the Lutheran Sung Liturgy Rediscovery had to do with a romantic temper which sensed cultural roots: what was called the ‘genetic’ or ‘organic’ expressed by popular poetry and song. Symptomatic was Herder's two-volume collection of Volkslieder (1778–9). The sung popular ballad led naturally to choral music, usually a cappella, by mixed and male-voice choirs. One of the earliest to take up the cause was the precocious Königsberg musician, Johann Friedrich Reichardt (1752–1814), court conductor at Berlin (1775–94). Vocal music was something Reichardt thought everyone in the family could perform; to the accompaniment, perhaps, of the new pianoforte. He reshaped Berlin's mid-eighteenth-century Liederschule into one popularizing folksong and the operetta (Singspiel), and linked it to his rediscovery of Palestrina after an Italian trip in 1783, and of Handel (especially his oratorios) after a visit to London in 1785, both of whom he incorporated into his Concerts spirituels. He set to music the modern poetry of Herder, Goethe, and Schiller; and in the context of Lutheran church music, brought Saxon-Thuringian musicianship to wider public attention both in Berlin and, after his dismissal without a pension in 1794 for his alleged French republican sympathies (Reichardt visited Paris in the unfortunate year 1792), at his charming country home at Giebichstein near Halle, which became a refuge for young romantic writers and musicians. Reichardt's musical publicity was profound in north-eastern Germany, notably in musical Silesian households, and in Scandinavian homes and parish schools. His musical mission was linked, as the empire collapsed, to a rediscovery of the German poetic past by Achim von Arnim (1781–1831), a pupil of his at Halle (1798–1800) and prominent amongst Berlin's awakened nobility as the founder of the Christlich-Deutsche Tischgesellschaft (1811), and by Arnim's companion, the Rhinelander Clemens Brentano (1778–1842), in their three-volume

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Des Knaben Wunderhorn—Alte Deutsche Lieder (1805/6–8), dedicated to Goethe, and coloured by romantic Heidelberg poetry and music. Their collection aimed to be a good representative selection of the dialect poetry of every Germanspeaking province. Timing was similar in Sweden. At Uppsala, the historian and bard, Erik Gustaf Geijer (1783–1847), a pioneer of a new historical interest in Sweden's medieval past, and his friend, a court chaplain (from 1812) and noted Nordic antiquarian, Arvid August Afzelius (1785–1871), published a three-volume collection of ballads, Svenska folk-visor från forntiden, which included those of Scotland (1814–17). Their cause was helped by the chance appearance of the Leipziger, Johann Christian Friedrich Haeffner (1759–1833), a musician close to the instrumental and choral music of Bach through a schooling by Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714–88), and two Thuringian musicians in the Bach tradition, Johann Philipp Kirnberger (1721–83) and Johann Gottfried Vierling (1750–1813). Haeffner, a corrector with the Leipzig music publisher Breitkopf (1776–81), was appointed conductor of Stockholm's opera (1787–1808), director musices at Uppsala university (1808), and Uppsala cathedral organist (1820). Haeffner gained a friendly patron in Uppsala's homiletic reformer, Ödmann. Amidst much controversy, given his outspoken comments on Uppsala's lamentable cantors and organists, Haeffner began the revival of Bach, and especially of Handel, as well as supplying his own oratorios and cantatas: his Good Friday oratorio Försonaren på Golgotha (1809), the first in Swedish, for which Ödmann, an admirer of Gluck (and of Alceste in particular), and initiator of the first subscription concerts in Uppsala's Gustavianum (1817), supplied the libretto, was performed annually. Haeffner also wrote the music to Geijer's and Afzelius's Swedish folksong collection (in doing so, he made Geijer aware of Bach's church music); restored male-voice church choirs; wrote the music for a Swedish Mass (Svenska Mässan, 1817) which reflected a decline in providing only one series of liturgical music instead of four or five in use at the beginning of the previous century; and published a seminal two-volume book of Lutheran chorales (1820–1) to accompany the new Swedish hymn-book composed by the senior clergyman and patriotic bard Johan Olof Wallin (1779–1839; archbishop briefly, 1837–9). This was a generation of altruists; they brought much fresh enthusiasm. Sensibilities were hurt: too much cultural heritage had

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been thrown out by a prosy Enlightenment. Was Hamburg's modern hymn-book (1787) containing no verse and no hymn tunes in over 500 pages, whose hymn-texts provided the congregation with edifying moral thoughts, all that one could expect from the late eighteenth-century liturgical debate?612 Almost inadvertently, on the tercentenary of Luther's Reformation, these romantic souls stumbled upon the Catholic Ordinary and Proper contained in Luther's Formula Missae, the priest as liturgist leading the Sunday liturgy in an organized corporate act of Christian worship, in the manner of Saxon and Brandenburg-Nuremberg ritual.613 But romantics simply passed by the serious late eighteenth century public debate on the nature and shape of the Sunday liturgy (Ch. 13). Time had moved on too. Musicians were no longer used to writing for the church choir. The public concert had supplanted declining cantors and church choirs. Few had any sense either of the problems involved in introducing a sung liturgy into poor Lutheran parish churches. There was more of Florestan than Eusebius. Bach's vocal church music was revived as concert-hall music, not as church music; mainly because Bach's liturgical music for the Leipzig Sunday morning service with parish communion was alien to the romantic frame of mind in a textual and musical sense. Schumann and Mendelssohn altered and modernized to educate a new ‘philistine’ public in their ‘historical concerts’ performed in Leipzig's Gewandhaus, and in St Thomas in the decade 1830–40. In his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Schumann praised Mendelssohn's Bach organ concert, at the time of the Leipzig Gutenberg festival in 1840 (a musical occasion for Mendelssohn to fill St Thomas to capacity), as the best way (‘through the means of Music itself ’) to revive Bach, and he argued that more annual historical concerts in Leipzig, in which ‘the simple learnt and the clever laughed’, were desirable: ‘in a word—a step taken backwards might be, perhaps, to take a step forward’.614 Bach was thus returned by Mendelssohn to St Thomas as an organist who might possibly touch spiritually a Leipzig concert-going public with pieces such as the organ chorale prelude

612

Neues Hamburgisches Gesangbuch zum öffentlichen Gottesdienste und zur häuslichen Andacht ausgefertiget von dem Hamburgischen Ministerio (Hamburg, 1787).

613

(Anon.), Die Liturgie, eine Nationalangelgenheit: Ein Aufruf an alle Protestanten Deutschlands (Dessau, 1829); literature revisiting Luther the musician and the new church music periodical Eutonia (1828–37): Leupold, Die liturgischen Gesänge, 91–3.

614

‘Rückblick auf das Leipziger Musikleben im Winter 1837–1838’, Schumann, Gesammelte Werke, ii. 168; ‘Mendelssohns Orgelkonzert’, ibid, iii. 28–30.

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‘Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele’; a piece, Mendelssohn confided to Schumann, which on its own could restore hope and faith if they deserted him. Mendelssohn and Schumann, it seems, were not aware as yet that it was Cantata No. 180 on a hymn by Johann Franck and melody by Johann Crüger (1649) played at St Thomas on the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity, 1724. It was difficult to see the liturgical setting for a Lutheran church music. Schumann noted that Mendelssohn's oratorio, Paul, performed during the Düsseldorf music festival at Whitsun 1836, was called by a wag, a ‘Protestant concert-hall oratorio’.615 In part, their failure to understand Bach's church music was due to a continuing ignorance—the case too with Lutheran church orders and liturgies—of the manuscripts. Better music printing techniques were just beginning. Schumann hoped (1841) that the new Leipzig musical publisher, Peters (1814), might be encouraged to publish more than just the original scores of Bach's keyboard works.616 A proper understanding remained patchy before mid-century. Restoration of the Lutheran sung liturgy on a sounder historical and aesthetic footing was a contribution by Prussian musicians, though much was Saxon in liturgical shape and tone. The Westphalian, Bernhard Christoph Natorp (1778–1846), pastor of the Lutheran congregations at Essen (1798–1809), and Münster (after 1816), who pioneered better primary Pestalozzian schooling as chairman of the school commission of the Bochum district (1809–16) and as a member of Münster's senior Protestant consistory thereafter, restored solo singing and partsong to classrooms by awakening an interest in melody with popular instruments such as the zither, pan-pipes, and shawm. Natorp was the first influential figure to renew the Lutheran sung liturgy in a programmatic book published, appropriately, in 1817 in which he asked, ‘Where do Protestants find their choirs, collects, responses, litanies, requiems, Te Deum, Credo, Sanctus, or Hallelujah?’617 Natorp pleaded with his readers not to leave the Sunday liturgy to the whimsy of their enlightened clergy. Public worship was more than an ‘art form’. A living liturgical link with the Early Church could be restored if the parish clergyman as liturgist

615

‘Protestantisches Konzertoratorium’, ibid. ii. 115.

616

‘Über einige mutmaβlich korrumpierte Stellen in Bachschen, Mozartschen und Beethovenschen Werken’, ibid. iii. 66–73.

617

Über den Gesang in den Kirchen der Protestanten (Essen 1817), 6 passim ; Leupold, Die liturgischen Gesänge, 72.

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conducted the Sunday parish service from the choir, and the congregation sang antiphonally. In 1822, Natorp published a book of melodies and a book on how to use them, and in 1828 he co-edited, with a pioneer of organ revival (the Saxon musical director of Giessen University, 1805–13, and court organist at Darmstadt thereafter, Christian Heinrich Rinck, 1770–1846), one of the influential new books of chorales. Johann Friedrich Naue (1787–1858), Halle University's music director after 1817, complemented Natorp's work by reviving a tenuous living tradition of Saxon church music.618 Naue, a local businessman's son who possessed ample means to pursue his musical ideals, was a pupil of Daniel Gottlob Türk (1750–1813), the organist (from 1787) of the Marktkirche (Liebfrauen) and professor of music at Halle University after 1808. Türk was a pupil of another of Bach's pupils, the cantor at Dresden's Kreuzschule since 1753, Gottfried August Homilius (1714–85), a good friend to Reichardt. Türk organized the first regular performances of Handel's oratorios at Halle after 1803 (Halle became a modern centre of Handelian revival thereafter), argued as an organist for the restoration of Lutheran chorales and cantatas, and lectured on the need to know the history of Protestant church music since the Reformation. Naue went a step further. He institutionalized choral singing in Halle's Singakademie (1816), called, in his Hallesian programmatic tract, Versuch einer musikalischen Agende (1818; revised 1845), for the restoration of the altar chant used in the communion service contained in Luther's Formula Missae, and edited Türk's musical writing, arguing the case for better historical study of the old Lutheran musical masters and their works. Naue sank his personal fortune into a magnificent collection of printed and manuscript music and musical theory, and in 1829 published a book of Protestant chorales with melodies from the material he collected.619 In a lengthy preface to his draft rite, Naue stressed the way liturgical chant sung by the priest and antiphons awakened ‘religious feelings’, and fostered a living relationship between priest as liturgist, the church choir, and the congregation. Novel too was the way Naue included liturgical melodies, and in the practical part of his book, settings also for the Epistles, Gospels, communion service, and blessing. Most were drawn from Duke Henry's Saxon liturgy. Naue

618

Ibid. 93–109.

619

Ibid. 95 cites Allgemeines evangelisches Choralbuch mit Melodien groβentheils aus den Urquellen berichtigt.

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introduced to Halle's university church, St Ulrich, a student choir singing responses, a light organ accompaniment to the altar chants; he also restored the Lutheran Sunday choral liturgy. Halle ordinands were schooled in chanting. Naue, who was eventually made an honorary doctor at Jena University (1835), greatly impressed Tholuck, who had come to know Oxford University's liturgical revival via Pusey. However, an enthusiastic publicity at Halle music festivals (1829, 1830, 1835) bankrupted Naue: his library, worth c.40,000 marks was eventually sold to the Royal Library in Berlin for a song (3,000 marks), and Naue died a penniless and almost broken-hearted man. But a decade before the first modern Catholic historical study of Gregorian chant Naue laid the foundation for the modern liturgical revival after midcentury exemplified by the scholarship and public renown of the Hanoverian, Justus Wilhelm Lyra (1822–82).620 Berlin was the other centre of rediscovery. Frederick William III in his rites of 1817, 1821 and 1822, and in the revised Prussian rite (1829), led the way as much by opposition to his amateurism as by his imposition of this uniform rite; ironically, as a boy he had hated formal piano lessons and the evenings of chamber music arranged by his father. His liturgies were not so much a return to the Formula Missae contained in the Brandenburg-Nuremberg rite, as a mix of Lutheran intonation formulae, Gregorian chant, and elements of Russian Orthodox church music, which Frederick William, a man who liked a dignified church and military march-pasts, learnt during the military campaigns of 1806–7 and 1813–14. His neo-Gregorian views were influenced by Job von Witzleben (1783–1837), his extremely musical adjutant from 1816 and after 1834, Minister for War. Walking close to the Russian encampment near Memel in 1807, Frederick William was so charmed by the Russian military choirs that he asked Czar Alexander I if he could spare musicians to set up similar choirs in the Prussian army.621 In December 1812, sixty-two out of some 500 Russian prisoners-of-war taken by Field-Marshal Yorck in the Courland campaign were incorporated as a choir in the Prussian First Regiment of Guards, and were eventually settled in 1826 in Potsdam's Alexandrowska settlement.

620

J. Antony, Arch.-Lit. Handbuch des Gregorianischen Kirchengesangs (Münster, 1829); Schrems, Geschichte des Gregorianischen Gesanges, 122–3.

621

W. Bornemann, Die Zeltersche Liedertafel in Berlin (Berlin, 1851), p. xvi passim ; Leupold, Die liturgischen Gesänge, 118 passim.

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This choir touched the king and Eylert with its national songs accompanied by bells, triangles, and tambourines, and gave them a taste of Russian Orthodox church music which Frederick William had come to know for the first time in 1807 in the Good Friday service held in Czar Alexander's field chapel. This was set to the music of the revived Russian Orthodox liturgy by Dimitri Bortniansky (1751/2–1825). It was an influence which became apparent in the Kyrie and Hallelujah of the 1822 cathedral liturgy. Frederick William also tried to encourage Bortniansky in 1824 to compose music for the choral texts of his Prussian rite, but setting Russian melodies to German texts was about as easy as setting Gregorian liturgical music to modern German; an issue which lay at the heart of the liturgical revival after 1850. If the idea died with Bortniansky, the king nevertheless remained addicted to the Russian male-voice choral tradition in church: the liturgy of the Sistine Chapel championed by Bunsen (see below) never gained much favour. However, Frederick William III's liturgies were amateur effusions and too rigidly linked to a cappella arrangements, and Mendelssohn found this to his cost as cathedral choirmaster in 1843/4. They also took little account of the very different liturgical traditions in Prussia's Lutheran and Reformed provinces. Trained a cappella choirs, especially when the king forbade women to sing, were a nonsense anyway in Prussia's extremely poor parishscape; even in Lutheran district capitals, such as Könisberg, with a choral tradition it was virtually impossible to muster choirs to sing the responses. Borowski complained in May 1823 that even the venerable Schloβkirche lacked a cantor, choir, and choir school; that hymn-books in use in parish churches lacked notes; and that his parish clergy learnt four-voice parts as badly as, if not worse than, parish schoolchildren. Already in August the king allowed the reading of the responses by the cantor or verger in parish churches without parish choirs, and his liturgy was abbreviated for this purpose in 1834.622 Grudgingly too, the king allowed new choral arrangements by composers he employed as cathedral choirmasters: August Ludwig Grell (1800–86; see below), Mendelssohn, and Carl Otto Nicolai (1810–49), choirmaster briefly in 1848/9, and an authority on the choral liturgy of the Sistine Chapel, Palestrina, and modern Italian opera.

622

Ibid. 146 passim ; Förster, Entstehung der preuβischen Landeskirche, ii. 67.

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Mendelssohn found musical Leipzig infinitely preferable to the dragging bureaucracy and demanding work of reorganization expected of him as Berlin cathedral's choirmaster. The cathedral liturgy also reduced church music to a minimum, and he felt that his freedom of composition was limited by a cappella purism. Mendelssohn constantly quarrelled with his superior, the Neo-Lutheran cathedral provost Strauss, over his own compositions, because Strauss considered the cathedral rite to be, as Mendelssohn put it, about ‘as holy as the Bible’. Mendelssohn was not an antiquarian or purist; choral music was always more fun than liturgical composition. To write a ‘true’ church music for a Protestant Sunday service was difficult, Mendelssohn admitted. Not only did he not understand where to place it in the Protestant Sunday service, but he simply could not see it there.623 But in the long run, the return to altar chant and choral liturgy sources by both Naue and Frederick William III did lay the basis for the revival of liturgical music thereafter.624

II. Reformation Hymns and Bach's Choral Works The texts, then the music, was the order of recovery. There were some who looked back to Luther's strong beckoning language of faith in the same way as contemporaries who republished the Protestant canon of prayer. Rediscovery of Luther mixed with a new enthusiasm for the hymns and church music of sixteenth-century Italy. By turns, there was an emphasis by purists on Palestrina and on German Reformation composers. Rambach's grandson, August Jacob Rambach (1777–1851), a deacon at Quedlinburg cathedral (1802–18), thereafter successor to his father, Johann Jacob (1737–1818), at St Michael, and senior in 1834 until his retirement in 1846, as a collector (like Naue, he amassed a large library) and publicist brought Luther the hymn writer to public attention in his Ueber D. Martin Luthers Verdienst um den Kirchengesang (1813; second edition, 1817), and in his six-volume collection of hymns selected from all Christian centuries (1817–33: compare the Moravian London hymn-book). These were followed by an anthology containing German hymns since Gellert and

623

MGG, s.v, ‘Mendelssohn, Felix’, cols. 78–9.

624

Some twenty rites, books of anthems, and theoretic manuals (1822–55) are listed by Leupold, 93.

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Klopstock (1832–3). It was a rediscovery which influenced his friend and correspondent Bunsen, and the 1843 Hamburg hymn-book, owing to Rambach's membership of the commission supervising its revision (1832–42). His restoration of the German chorale tradition was complemented by the work of Carl von Winterfeld (1784–1852), a musically gifted Prussian magistrate (influential at Breslau, 1816–32), who took a keen amateur interest in Italian sixteenth-century church music, particularly Palestrina, after a visit to Italy in 1812 during which he transcribed his music. Seminal books, first on Palestrina (1832) then Luther's hymns (1840), were followed by ones advocating the restoration of congregational hymns and choral singing.625 But Winterfeld remained a purist: he thought Schütz and Bach too complex in their use of instrumental accompaniment, arias, and recitatives for use in the parish church of his times. His views were publicized by a friend who came to know him as a student at Breslau (1819–20), another Berliner, Philipp Wackernagel (1800–77). Wackernagel spread Winterfeld's purist message effectively as a schoolmaster at Nuremberg (1824–9), Berlin (1829–39), Stetten in Württemberg (1839–43), and Elberfeld (1849–61); as the author of a popular book on Luther's and Reformation hymns (Stuttgart, 1841), and later, with his five-volume German hymnology from the earliest times until 1600 (Leipzig, 1864–77). It was work which formed the basis of his abortive plea for a national hymn-book at the Bremen Kirchentag (1852). Another popular figure who united Lutheran hymns with Italian sixteenth-century church music, was the Franconian, Gottlieb Tucher (1798–1877). After an Italian visit in 1824, he edited a two-volume hymnology of the most famous older Italian masters (1827), and a two-volume ‘treasury’ of early Reformation hymns containing 622 hymns and 469 melodies (1848). His contribution to the congregational hymn appeared with his ‘national’ book of chorales sanctioned by the Eisenach conference of 1854 (Ch. 18). Textual rediscovery was accompanied by a choral renaissance in Berlin and northern Germany which drew on Saxon liturgical tradition

625

Johannes Pierluigi Palestrina, seine Werke und deren Bedeutung für die Geschichte der Tonkunst (Breslau, 1832); Johann Gabrieli und sein Zeitalter (Berlin, 1834), 3 vols.; Dr. Martin Luthers deutsche geistliche Lieder (Leipzig, 1840); Der evangelische Kirchengesang und sein Verhältniβ zur Kunst des Tonsatzes (Leipzig, 1843–7), 3 vols.; Über Herstellung des Gemeinde- und Chorgesanges in der evangelischen Kirche (Leipzig, 1848).

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and a current fashion for Roman and Florentine music. The Erfurter, Karl Benjamin Ritschl (Ch. 14), began to teach singing as a schoolmaster in Berlin's famous Graue Kloster school (1804–10) and part-song was added to the curriculum in Berlin and Prussian secondary schools. Like Naue at Halle, Ritschl, as pastor of St Mary (1810–28), reintroduced the resident church choir. It was a programme which he publicized as a musical adviser to Berlin's new hymn-book commission (the hymn-book was published in 1829), and as the member of the St Petersburg commission (September 1829 - May 1830) who drafted the rite for the Protestant church in the Russian empire, modelled largely on the conservative Swedish service-book (1697, 1811). Ritschl's restoration of the church choir was continued by his pupil Grell who was organist of St Nicholas (1817–39), vice-director of Zelter's Singakademie after 1832 (director, 1852), cathedral organist after 1839, and cathedral choirmaster (1843–4). Grell also helped his good friend, Zelter, to organize Berlin university choir and Berlin's military choir, and was probably the most important figure in improving the choral element in the Prussian liturgy in the nineteenth century as both an active sponsor of a cappella singing (sixteenth-century German and Italian church music), family quodlibets, and school and church choirs. A similar and contemporaneous choral revival took place in Pomerania and Hanoverian Lower Saxony under Karl Loewe (1796–1869) and Philipp Spitta senior (1801–59). Loewe, the gifted son of a Saxon cantor, whose tenor voice so impressed Jerome Bonaparte that he granted him 300 thalers to pursue his musical studies, trained at the Francke institutes in Halle (1809–14), became a friend of Türk, continued Halle's Bach and choral revival as Türk's successor at the Marktkirche (1814–20), and subscribed to Naue's draft musical rite. Thereafter he spread the message as organist to St James in Stettin after 1820, and as the longserving musical director of Stettin's Gymnasium (1821–66). Notable were his performances of Bach's St Matthew (1831) and St John Passions (1841). In the wider world, Loewe, like Reichardt, was a champion of folksong which he popularized as ballads (notably Goethe's ‘Erlkönig’, 1818, Herder's Scottish ballad, ‘Edward’, 1824, and the Danish ‘Herr Oluf ’ and ‘Elvershöh’ ballads 1824, 1825) with concert visits to England (London in 1847), Scandinavia, and France. Spitta, a fine singer and harpist, father of (Julius Auguste) Philipp, who restored Bach to the context of his times, was the only figure

430

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in his romantic German generation who translated (like Grundtvig) this rediscovery of Lutheran hymns and choral music into modern congregational idiom. He began this as a military and prison chaplain in Hameln (1830–7) and was then a country parson at Hanoverian Wechold after 1837, who propagated, much to the displeasure of his military and consistorial superiors, the Hanoverian Lutheran revival led by pastors Ludwig Petri and Louis Harms (see below), and Tholuck's Hallesian pastoral emphasis on daily family Bible reading and family prayers. Spitta's congregational hymnbook, Psalter und Harfe (1833–43), became the best-loved hymn-book in Protestant Germany in its day.626 His brief and clear hymns based on St Paul's Epistle to the Romans and Luther's ‘justification by faith alone’, addressed, for the first time since Paul Gerhardt, the confident religious heart, with touching settings like ‘Ich steh in meines Herren Hand’, ‘Ich und mein Haus, wir sind bereit’, ‘Bei dir, Jesu will ich bleiben’, the glorious Whitsun hymn ‘Geist des Glaubens, Geist der Stärke’, or the popular household hymn, ‘Vollendet hat der Tag die Bahn’, and fine marriage paean, ‘Hüter Israels, behüte’, set later to music by Herzogenberg (Ch. 20). We owe to Spitta the restoration to church and home of the Lutheran hymn as a sung prayer. The rediscovery of Bach's choral music was a part of this north German romantic liturgical and choral revival which arose out of tenuous links between professional musicians and pupils in Saxony-Thuringia and Prussia. It had less to do with a romantic ‘national’ revival advocated by the Thuringian musician Johann Niklaus Forkel (1749–1818) in his short, but immensely influential biography (1802), though Forkel as Göttingen University's organist (after 1770) was instrumental in establishing music as a new university discipline, and was a champion, as was Türk at Halle, of restoring a historical understanding of Handel and Bach in the history of music he published (1788–1801), and in university church performances. Bach's choral works returned as part of the Palestrina renaissance started by Karl Fasch (1736–1800) at Dresden in his Singakademie (1791), in the new choral and Cecilian societies at Dresden and

626

Frowning superiors feared a Pied Piper: ‘In Hameln steht an die Spitze der Mystiker ein Harfenspieler, welcher den Gläubigen und Ungläubigen die Bedenken ihrer Vernunft wegzuspielen versucht’, Hannoversche Landesblätter (1833), cited Tiesmeyer, Erweckungsbewegung, bk. 9, pp. 54–5. ‘Längst ist in Reclams Universalbibliothek wie in Meyers Volksbüchern die Gesamtausgabe von Psalter und Harfe für 20 Pfennige zu haben’, RE, 668, s.v. ‘Spitta, Philipp’.

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Berlin, and via Naue's and Forkel's new university male-voice choirs in Halle and Göttingen. At Berlin, Bach was championed by another Saxon, Carl Friedrich Zelter (1758–1832), director of the Dresden Singakademie after Fasch, founder of Berlin's choral society (Liedertafel, 1802), and a professor at Berlin's Academy of Fine Art (1809). We owe to Zelter the recognition that if church music was to be restored to a more professional footing in modern times, it needed sponsorship by the state. Zelter, like his contemporaries Ritschl and Loewe, created propaganda by means of a flood of memoranda (1803–12), and as a restless traveller of Prussia's provinces, broadcast his call for cantorships and town musicians to be transformed into state-sponsored music schools. He advocated the establishment of institutes for church and school music, new music professorships, and professional choirs. As a collector interested, like Naue and Rambach, in manuscripts, he had befriended Anna Amalia (1723–87), sister of Frederick the Great, and catalogued her fine library of musical manuscripts (which included much of Bach's church music) begun by Kirnberger, her court musician after 1758. Zelter played Bach's motets, and became interested after 1811 in his masses and passions. Friends, notably his pupil, the actor Eduard Devrient (1801–77) and the young impressionable Mendelssohn, got to know these ‘difficult works’. These new Bach fans were lucky in having an influential and sympathetic music critic, Adolf Bernhard Marx (1795–1866). As a musician who had been taught by Türk, a friend of Naue, editor of Berlin's Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung (1824–31), and eventually director of Berlin's Singakademie on Zelter's death, Marx popularized Handel and Bach in reports and notices. Rediscovery of the St Matthew Passion was the achievement of the young, impressionable Mendelssohn (baptized a Protestant in 1816) who warmed to Schleiermacher's Christology and religion of feeling, and who shared the religious views of the Prussian Nazarene painters in Rome, who emphasized the direct expression of religious belief and feeling. The brothers Johann and Philipp Veit were Mendelssohn's cousins. Mendelssohn, aged 14, came to know the St Matthew Passion in 1823 through his grandmother, Babette Salomon Itzig (1749–1824), who had collected Bach manuscripts from Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach's Hamburg collection. The music moved him deeply, but his first performances of the St Matthew Passion, on 11 and 21 March

432

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1829, were designed for the Berlin public, as were his subsequent performances of Bach's organ and choral works.627 The soloists were taken from Berlin's royal opera, the orchestra from the new Philharmonic Society (1826), and the choir from Zelter's Singakademie. Mendelssohn even recommended, as a way of publicizing Bach to an audience used to 4/4 rhythm, the measured beat of Carl Heinrich Graun (1703/4?–59), Frederick the Great's conductor after 1740. Instrumentation was problematic too. Bach's thorough bass was replaced by cellos and a fortepiano, owing to the lack of a positive organ in the Singakademie. The first performance was one for its time in the new Schinkel concert-hall of the Singakademie; full of enthusiasm and theatre, and one where Mendelssohn insisted on a ‘correct’ Bach uniform for the performers—blue coats, white waistcoats, black neckties, black trousers, and yellow chamois leather gloves.628 A capacity audience, c.800–900, including Frederick William III and his court, Berlin's cultural establishment, Schleiermacher, Hegel, the historian Droysen, even Heine, were as moved as the public in the capacity second and third performances (Good Friday, 7 April, the day Mendelssohn left for England and Scotland). Devrient recorded the young Mendelssohn saying with some emotion, while standing still in the middle of Berlin's Opernplatz, ‘And to think . . . that it should be an actor [Devrient singing baritone as Christ] and a Jew that gives back to the people the greatest of Christian works.’629 This was the new tone of things to come: the heart, joy, many tears, much altruism; never mind the use of original instruments, or Bach's skilful moving of the parish church congregation's affections so that they might just understand the right sense and scope of the scriptural text. The Bach revival was spread sporadically thereafter by new lay choral societies in the concert hall: in performances by Frankfurt's Cecilian Society (founded 1818) on 29 May 1829 under its director Johann Nepomuk Schelble (1789–1837); at Kassel under the baton of the composer, Spohr, a good friend of Schelble, on 20 October 1832, and at Breslau on 3 April 1830 by Breslau's Singakademie, founded in 1825 by the actor and singer, Johann Theodor Mosewius (1788–1858).

627

Geck, Wiederentdeckung der Matthäuspassion, 34 passim.

628

Devrient, Recollections of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, 57.

629

Ibid.

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Mosewius, a Königsberger, who had directed the city's opera (1814–16) under Kotzebue (1761–1819), and who had come to know Bach via the cathedral organist Christian Wilhelm Podbielski (1740–92) who still played Bach's organ works, was really the first musician before Albert Schweitzer (Ch. 20) to restore the connection between Bach's choral music and the Sunday liturgy. He emphasized a need to move the affections, to use allegory, and to understand the correspondence between words and melodies, in books dedicated to Winterfeld on Bach's cantatas and choral compositions (1845), and the St Matthew Passion (1852).630 However, Bach choral enthusiasm was evanescent, and it ended with performances by Loewe at Stettin, two at Königsberg in April and May 1832, and at Dresden on Palm Sunday, 1835, in Poppelmann's classical opera house. Thereafter interest waned, if the popular performances by Mendelssohn in Leipzig's Gewandhaus (1841), and one at Munich in 1842 are excepted. Bach was given to a public which had lost contact with the cantor and school choir serving the liturgy. The 1832 Königsberg performances in the Löbenicht church were well attended, but it was difficult to find enough singers for two choirs, the right instruments, and good enough players for an orchestra; many left after the first half of the performance.631 The question still remained as to whether Bach could be performed any longer in churches, and the music of Bach had still to be restored to its historical setting. A proper understanding began first to appear after the establishment of the Leipzig Bach Society in 1850 (Ch. 20).

III. Early Christian or High Gothic Parish Churches? The issue of the purpose and function of the Protestant parish church was raised once again by this search for liturgical tradition amongst Protestant and Catholic romantics after two decades of revolutionary disturbance and war, and by the ecclesiology of Prussian Union in 1817. But, as had happened with the musicians, a new generation of church architects had lost links with traditional practice. Bähr's brilliant Saxon solution was passed over by young enthusiasts who looked by turns at the first three Christian centuries,

630

J. S. Bach in seinen Kirchen-Kantaten und Choralgesängen (Berlin, 1845); J. S. Bachs Matthäus-Passion (Berlin, 1852).

631

Geck, Wiederentdeckung der Matthäuspassion, 101–5, 153–66.

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Classical Greece, Byzantine and Renaissance Italy, and High German Gothic. The drafts of Berlin's Neo-Gothic Friedrich-Werder church built (1825–30) by Schinkel were modelled on early Christian basilicas (1821), the Maison Carrée at Nimes, and a perpendicular chapel at an Oxford or Cambridge college (1824)! Royal fancy meddled too. Protestant royalist Berlin and Catholic royalist Munich were similar. Munich's Ludwigskirche built between 1829 and 1844 by Friedrich von Gärtner (1791–1847), was a concoction of Lombard, Byzantine, and Romanesque. A new ecclesiology was defined in architectural terms not so much by a struggle of moderns and ancients, but by a complete loss of contact with Reformation church order and the liturgy of Luther's Formula Missae. The Italianate basilica and Gothic church struggled for ascendancy. In the end, because of a new liturgical emphasis on the priest as liturgist in the choir, the Gothic choir dominating the nave won all over again. In Berlin, finding an acceptable modern Protestant church architecture was a royal lost cause. Fancy mixed with a fleeting return to the eighteenth-century debate about the relationship between clerical choir and congregational nave. Before the city's architectural restoration by Frederick William III, there had been little public building since the early eighteenth century (Ch. 8). There were few schooled architects and masters, and few had any sense of the functional purpose of a public and church architecture. A new generation of architects, also their patrons, were used to the academic drawing board, theory, and fancy, rather than religious function. Fashion often dictated draughtsmanship. A vogue for the English Neo-Gothic garden (after 1760) emphasizing the religious aspect of Nature (particularly apparent in the Gotisches Haus built at Wörlitz (1773) in Anhalt-Dessau), a new Catholic and Protestant German aesthetic interest driven by a wish to save Germany's late medieval Gothic architecture exhibited by Görres and the Boisserée brothers over finishing Cologne cathedral, and even Goethe, who praised both the churches of Catholic Italy and the minster at Strasburg, were influential. Late-medieval religious architecture expressed the organic and corporate such as popular poetry and song. This thinking coloured the restoration of the Teutonic Order's Marienburg (Malbork) as a Prussian monument by von Schön and his brilliant Catholic assistant, civil servant and poet Joseph von Eichendorff (1788–1857), a councillor at Danzig (1821–4) and Königsberg (1824–30), and a member of von Schön's Marienburg

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restoration commission after 1842. Eichendorff's account of this restoration, published in 1844 a year after the foundation of the Cologne Dombauverein, showed his fascination with the corporate discipline of the Teutonic order's monastic life of prayer and work, and its universal Christian appeal.632 A more professional approach shaped by the new professional office of curator (Konservator) for Prussia's ancient monuments (1843) was still in its infancy. Architects remained ambivalent. The Berliner, Louis Catel (1778–1856), in his Grundzüge einer Theorie der Bauart protestantischer Kirchen (Berlin, 1815), reflected on Schinkel's Gothic draft for the restoration of Berlin's St Peter, after the fire of 1809, in a preface which plagiarized Sturm's arguments put a century earlier: contemporary Protestant churches still served the Catholic liturgy; pulpits, pews, galleries, and organs had been introduced without ‘taste and order’; Greek and Roman were extolled in a prolix argument against the backdrop of a macabre Gothic nave in which a Handel Te Deum was led by a priesthood standing against walls lined with epitaphs decorated with skulls and crossbones. But these arguments were pushed aside by meddlesome amateurish patronage exercised by Frederick William III and Frederick William IV at a time when there were still no real constitutional checks and balances, and where constitutional procedure of a kind which allowed an English parliament to vote large sums for Anglican church building in 1818 and 1824 was lacking. Both kings opened to the fanciful views of the brilliant romantic architect Karl Friedrich Schinkel (1781–1841), scion of three generations of Neuruppin clergy (his father was archdeacon and superintendent), and Prussia's Oberbaudirektor after 1815. Schinkel, influenced as an apprentice by Neuruppin's Dominican church (destroyed, as was his home and two-thirds of the town, by fire in 1787, and restored by him while Oberbaudirektor), and by the chapel and monastic schoolrooms of Berlin's famous Graue Kloster school, looked to local Gothic models, and as an autodidact interested in design and landscape painting (he was charmed by Caspar David Friedrich's symbolic religious landscapes exhibited in Berlin's 1810 exhibition) and in Berlin's musical culture led by Zelter's choral society—(Schinkel designed the stage sets for performances of

632

Die Wiederherstellung des Schlosses der deutschen Ordensritter zu Marienburg (Berlin, 1844); A. Buesche, ‘Eichendorff und die Wiederherstellung der Marienburg’, Aurora, EichendorffAlmanach, 21 (1961), 64–70.

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Mozart's Magic Flute and Gluck's Alceste, 1815–17) was concerned with exterior aesthetic impression rather than internal religious function. Schinkel was enthusiastic about the temples and landscape of Classical Greece, the Gothic cathedrals he saw in Prague, St Stephen in Vienna, Hohenstaufen Monreale and Palermo visited during his first Italian and Sicilian trip (1803–4), and the Byzantine style he encountered on his second visit in 1824 which produced some 587 pages of plans for the churches of Potsdam and Berlin. Schinkel incorporated the Christian art and architecture he saw on these visits with a new plea for the preservation of ancient monuments; especially after a trip in 1816 to romantic Heidelberg to discuss ‘old German art’ with the Boisserée brothers, to Trier, and to Cologne. Christian art and architecture, notably the Marienburg whose restoration Schinkel supervised after 1834, had to be saved from the barbarism of the recent enlightened half-century. Schinkel was helped by a pious and like-minded crown prince who warmed to the Nazarene school of painters and the revival of Italian sixteenth-century church music and, as a fair draughtsman who preferred fancy to politics, had started in 1822 to while away his evenings designing churches for Berlin as the future Protestant capital of Germany, using as models sketches of Rome's churches supplied by Baron Cotta (in Rome from 1818). But, like Schinkel, he lacked any real sense of religious purpose and function. The grand aesthetic statement (often with his parsimonious father in mind) was encapsulated in his remark, put with some feeling: ‘I am building my cathedral not for Berlin's cathedral congregation, but for the German Protestant church as the Primate of Protestantism, and since I hope to complete the restoration of Cologne cathedral, I have the right, if not to put it into effect, to design a draft for my church, an equally large building’.633 Another collaborator, more influential than Schinkel in the long run, was Christian Karl Josias Bunsen (1791–1860), the friend of the Roman historian and first Prussian ambassador to Rome (from 1816), Niebuhr. Until his recall in 1838 to help cool Catholic episcopal tempers at Cologne, Bunsen's views were coloured by his championship of the German embassy, the Palazzo Caffarelli on the Capitoline Hill, as a new cultural centre dedicated to Roman archaeology, to Rome (Bunsen edited a fivevolume topography in 1830–42), and to the Early-Christian

633

Dehio, Friedrich Wilhelm IV., 42, 124.

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church—specifically its architecture and liturgy. Bunsen gradually pushed Frederick William, both as crown prince (as such he had visited Italy in 1828) and as king (after 1840), towards the Early-Christian basilica whose virtues he extolled in long-winded Hegelian prose in a book he dedicated to the king.634 Bunsen set aside Schinkel's theatrical Gothic, omitted German Reformation church architecture, and left out the entire Protestant German eighteenth century as being blind to anything ‘elevated’. Bähr's Dresden churches received not the slightest mention. Frederick William was obviously charmed by the idea of linking Berlin with Early-Christian Rome (he was also aware of the new Russian Orthodox cathedral of St Isaac in St Petersburg), by means of a cathedral basilica built in the style of Santa Maria Maggiore and St Paul (in front of Rome's city gates), close by the royal palace in the Lustgarten, which would represent Berlin as the new centre of Protestantism and Christian monarchy. His cathedral was a white elephant. Schinkel's authoritative voice giving a clear ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was absent. The king fell out with Schinkel's pupil, the architect Stüler, about size and rising costs in more troubled times than under his father. Educated Berlin proved as sarcastic about an exhibition of the plans in 1842 as it had about Mendelssohn's music for Berlin's cathedral choir. A commission was set up, but it went the way of all commissions. In the summer of 1846, Stüler and the commission complained, as had Mendelssohn, about the king's unbusinesslike vacillation and how it fuelled rising costs. Sums spent elsewhere were considerable (the rebuilding of Berlin's St Peter in 1843; Prussian flood damage in 1844); it was estimated that an income of 400,000–600,000 thalers per annum would have to be used for fifteen years running; the king could not procure loans from parliament until Prussia's constitutional crisis was solved; Berliners were no longer interested; the finance minister stopped the financing of the project. What remained at the beginning of the revolutionary year 1848 was a messy building works surrounded by a fence.635 The only royal churches built in Berlin were the Friedenskirche at Sanssouci (1845–8) by Persius and modelled in San Clemente in Rome, and the basilica, St James, built by Stüler (1844–5). However, Frederick William IV was remembered elsewhere in his lands as the

634

Die Basiliken des christlichen Roms nach ihren Zusammenhange mit Idee und Geschichte der Kirchenbaukunst (Berlin, 1842).

635

Dehio, Friedrich Wilhelm IV., 114.

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last great royal builder: some 300 Prussian parish churches were built during his reign.636 Neo-Gothic became a clear option at this time, largely because of the publicity Schinkel and Frederick William IV gave to the completion of Cologne cathedral in the new Prussian Rhineland province. One of Schinkel's star pupils (from 1828), Ernst Friedrich Zwirner (1802–61), had, at the age of 31 (May 1833), taken over the direction of this project which envisaged Cologne as a symbol of a restored Christian monarchy uniting Catholics and Protestants; the king laid the foundation stone on 2 September 1842. It proved a daunting and costly task: between 1826 and 1893 sixty-nine houses and two churches were demolished and costs spiralled in a job which took until 1880 to complete.637 Unexpectedly, however, the trend was set by an English architect in Hamburg, a city where one might have expected another St Michael (1751–62; tower 1777–80), which had been built by the city architects Sonnin and Prey in the style of Bähr.638 But a prize competition run by Hamburg citizens for the rebuilding of another city church, St Nicholas (destroyed by fire in 1842), produced a remarkable outcome. The prize-winner, the German architect Gottfried Semper (1803–79), had modelled his design on Florentine basilicas and renaissance churches, and had argued forcibly, in a programmatic book, that Protestant churches should be built in the style of the age rather than that of the Gothic thirteenth century; adding, prophetically, that otherwise there was the risk of plagiarizing the past, deceiving the future, and worst of all, mistreating the present by robbing it of any chance to express itself for posterity.639 In the open competition held in May 1844 (in which forty-four plans were submitted), the views of Semper and a prize jury of six professionals were swept aside by a citizenry charmed by German Gothic. Semper's design of a functional, pillarless church similar to Bähr's churches, or to Hamburg's St Michael (which seated 3,000), was passed over because of the outcry of a public which liked Hamburg's Neo-Gothic public buildings such as city chambers and post offices. Finally they opted for a large Neo-Gothic church seating 2,400 modelled by the English architect, Gilbert Scott (1811–78) and his

636

Fritsch (ed.), Kirchenbau der Protestanten, 208.

637

Lützeler, Der Kölner Dom, 40 passim.

638

Fritsch, 128–31.

639

Über den Bau evangelischer Kirchen (1845), 99.

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partner W. B. Moffat, who had been placed third in the competition. It was typical of these romantic times that the misplaced description ‘Scottish Gothic’ (Scott spent much time beforehand studying German fourteenth-century Gothic) was used by Hamburgers, and that there was a sharp rebuke in the Anglican Cambridge journal, the Ecclesiologist, published by the Camden Society, that Scott should have dared to design a Lutheran place of worship.640 Zwirner, Sulpiz Boisserée (master of works in the Cologne cathedral rebuilding programme), and Bunsen were significantly in favour of Scott too. Scott's St Nicholas, rebuilt between 1848 and 1863, and completed with a tower in 1874, became a new model to follow. But a Neo-Gothic church was costly too: St Nicholas (which eventually seated only 814), rose in costs from an estimated 1,500,000 thalers to 4,630,000, or three times the original estimate. As one of the largest Protestant churches ever built in Germany in the nineteenth century, it dominated Protestant German ecclesiology after the mid-century. But the question of the purpose of a Protestant parish church serving the sermon and parish communion remained, as did the problem of properly trained church architects, masters, and craftsmen.

IV. Lutheran Religious Articles and Luther's Formula Missae A return to Luther's hymns and sung Formula Missae and to Bach's choral music in the disrupted churchscape of Lutheran Germany's sixteenth-century church and liturgical order, new Lutheran and Reformed intercommunion, and a simultaneous Catholic revival, caused another generation of Lutheran clergy to revisit the sixteenth century. The historic Reformation liturgy and doctrine began to matter in an ecclesiology which was similar to the Anglican Oxford Movement (1835–45). What became in the 1830s for the first time an identifiable ‘Neo-Lutheran’ political churchmanship, called ‘Confessionalism’, in the first national gatherings at Leipzig University's great hall on 7–8 September 1843 (128 present) and 5–6 September 1844 (350 present), began as a mood of reflection amongst German Lutheran clergy on Luther's interpretation of scriptural revelation, Lutheran doctrine contained in late sixteenthcentury

640

Fritsch, 221 passim ; G. Gilbert Scott (ed.), Personal and Professional Recollections by the Late Sir George Gilbert Scott RA (London, 1879), 123, 127.

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religious articles, and Lutheran church orders and liturgies.641 An enormous Neo-Lutheran literature on these subjects consisting of tracts for the times, academic books, and printed sermons was published. It may be misleading to relate Neo-Lutheranism solely to the constitutional question of church and state posed by the Prussian Union of 1817, which it became perforce as a conservative Lutheran politics in the period of German unification by Bismarckian Prussia. Then, senior Neo-Lutheran clergy often anxiously identified themselves with a conservative Groβdeutsch solution as the best way to preserve their local identities. Revelation was seen as a fact (Thatbestand), a positive divine action making human redemption possible (John 16: 13–15; I Corinthians 2: 10). The divine word was ‘objectively’ the biblical written word, and the subjective preached word of faith. Lutheranism was a matter of historical experience, of continuity with the past. Metaphor such as ‘the innermost pith of an old tree’, or the parable of the sower (Matthew 13), was used to describe Lutheran organic development.642 One admired Savigny's historical school of jurisprudence, supported the liturgical revisitation of Brandenburg-Nuremberg and Saxon liturgical order, and approved of Gothic churches whose layout emphasized the centrality of the altar in the Sunday liturgy. This heritage (Erbe) preserved the Reformation Church against incursion by modern statute-books and codes, or modern critical textual analysis of the Bible of the kind carried out in Hegelian Tübingen under Baur and Strauss. Neo-Lutheran churchmen also shared Pusey's worries arising from his experience, during his German visit (1825/6), of Sunday parish worship in Göttingen: namely, the vast gap between the Sunday sermon delivered by an enlightened preacher, and the simple countrymen and townsfolk who bowed at the name of Jesus, but failed to understand a word of what was said in the enlightened pulpit.643 Gottfried Thomasius (1802–75), the historian of Bavaria's Lutheran revival, a man influenced by Nuremberg's conservative liturgical order while a deacon of Nuremberg's Holy Spirit (1829–31) and St Lawrence (1831–42) churches, thereafter professor of doctrine at Erlangen and

641

Cochlovius, Bekenntnis und Einheit, 108–10; ‘Confessionalismus’ in Karl Rudolf Hagenbach, Encyclopädie und Methodik der theologischen Wissenschaften (1833) 4th edn. (1854) cited TRE, 427 s.v. ‘Konfessionalismus’.

642

Zeitschrift für Protestantismus und Kirche, 11, (1846), 1, cited Fagerberg, Bekenntnis, Kirche und Amt, 153, 157

643

Liddon, Life of Edward Bouverie Pusey, i. 77.

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an authority on the doctrine of the Early Church (he published Origen in 1837), summed up this new Lutheran spirit and its ecclesiology with his saying, ‘We were Lutherans even before we were conscious of it,’ and with his antiquarian description of Luther's Bible and doctrinal writings as ‘monuments to the Reformation’.644 But these clergy shared also an optimistic sense of living at a special time of grace. The press of the Saxon revival, Der Pilger aus Sachsen, spoke (1835) of Herrnhut as a ‘morning star’ promising the church a new and lovelier day.645 Dawn', Herder's symbol for life, nourished a positive Lutheran faith breathing, with missionary zeal, fresh life into the Lutheran Sunday and weekday. The Copenhagener, Andreas Gottlob Rudelbach (1792–1862), was Grundtvig's disciple and co-editor of the revivalist Theologisk Månedsskrift; he was pastor (1829–45) of Glauchau in the Saxon Muldenthal (Hohenstein), organized the Neo-Lutheran Muldenthal conferences of clergy after 1830, and, as editor of the influential Saxon Lutheran journal, Zeitschrift für die gesamte lutherische Theologie und Kirche (1839–62), campaigned (as did Harleβ's similar Erlangen journal—see below) for Neo-Lutheran solidarity. In this fresh spirit he dedicated his neo-Lutheran apology, Reformation, Luthertum, und Union (1839), to Grundtvig and his preaching of the ‘living Word of God’, using his favourite Bible text, I Peter 1: 23: ‘Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the Word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever.’ Neo-Lutheran clergy subscribed to the romantic belief in the organic chain of being; to the infallible certainty of the natural cycle; to the idea of the most obvious fact being the most mysterious; to a sense of their being guests on this earth like migratory birds; to a feeling of the need to have faith (the heart of the religious disposition in Schleiermacher's Speeches); to the corporate Christian body as an organic replacement for modern social contract; to the Christian order of St Thomas Aquinas, rather than the contractual order of Hallesian or Tübingen collegialism which put emphasis on an individual Christian's rights. It was a frame of mind akin to that of contemporary Catholic bishops and parish clergy who defended the authority of the Catholic church in an age which they felt was becoming too liberal and secular. Hengstenberg, in his new

644

Thomasius, Wiedererwachen, 244.

645

Der Pilger aus Sachsen: Sonntagsblatt für häusliche Erbauung, (1835), 23, cited M. Schmidt, ‘Die innere Einheit der Erweckungsfrömmigkeit’ etc., ThLZ 74 (1949), col. 19.

442

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Lutheran press, the Evangelische Kirchenzeitung, at Berlin, which replaced after 1827 the enlightened religious influence of Nicolai's Allgemeine Deutsche Bibliothek, railed typically against Pietism's stress on the ‘invisible’ at the expense of Lutheran theology, the teaching office (Amt), and Reformation church orders and liturgies. In 1830 ‘Pietism’ was used once again as an abusive term alongside the modern levelling tendency, ‘Rationalism’.646

V. Neo-Lutheran Churchscapes Opposition to the new Union churchscapes of Prussia (1817) and Bavaria (1818) appeared quite naturally in Holstein, Lower Saxony, the Mecklenburgs, Saxony, Silesia, and Franconian Bavaria, where there was still a sense of historical contact with Luther's Formula Missae. Holstein, Saxony, and Silesia provided the earliest settings (1817–40) for a heady and often lengthy tractarian debate which linked doctrine and liturgy. Claus Harms (1778–1855), brought up, as was his Danish contemporary, bishop Mynster, in a humble and pious family—his father was a miller—reacted strongly, as schoolboy, and student (1799–1802) in Kiel (as did Mynster in Copenhagen) to a similar academic and burgher enlightenment. As a deacon at St Nicholas (1815–35), and provost thereafter, Harms, deeply moved by Schleiermacher's Speeches, was horrified by the empty pews he saw on Sundays. He felt that the reason was Kiel's civic Enlightenment and an insufficient emphasis on pastoral authority and care. The principles of ‘no church without priests’, the pastor as a servant of Christ, and New Testament pastoral action and care for the poor, informed Harms's ninety-five theses, published as a tract for the times (5,000 copies) on 31 October 1817 by Kiel University Press.647 Theses were the briefest Lutheran defence against the fashionable enlightened footnotes contained in the recently revised Altona Bible (1815), or Frederick William III's call on 27 September 1817 for Union in Prussia. Harms bracketed the Pope, or Antichrist of the age, with faith in reason and the primacy of individual conscience

646

Evangelische Kirchenzeitung (1840), 18, 25 passim, cited Fagerberg, Bekenntnis, Kirche und Amt, 42–4.

647

Das sind die 95 Theses oder Streitsätze Dr. Luthers, theuren Andenkens: Zum besonderen Abdruck besorgt und mit andern 95 Sätzen als mit einer Uebersetzung aus Ao 1517 in 1817 begleitet (Kiel, 1817).

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(thesis 9). Prussia's Union (theses 75–95) was a prime example of the new church of his times: so thoroughly indifferent to Christian doctrinal distinctions encapsulated in religious articles. Central to a distinction between Lutheran and Reformed churches was the understanding of the eucharistic Presence—‘if Christ's Body and Blood were in the bread and wine at the Marburg Colloquy of 1529, the same holds true today in 1817’ (thesis 78)—and the importance Lutheran teaching attached to the authority of the priest in the choir as the dispenser of the Lutheran sacraments of baptism and communion (theses 92–5): therefore the authority of the Bible and preaching office (theses 49–62), and Lutheran doctrine contained in Reformation religious articles (theses 63–74), must be restored. Harms caught the imagination of his contemporaries: some 200 pamphlets and books were published; even local boys and girls divided into Harmsians and anti-Harmsians.648 In Holstein, the neighbouring Hanover, and the Mecklenburgs, Harms's three-volume Pastoraltheologie (1830–4) became the textbook of local Neo-Lutheran revivals. Harms's message was picked up easily in the mild enlightened climate of traditionalist Dresden and Leipzig. Franz Volkmar Reinhard (1753–1812), a professor of theology and the provost of Wittenberg (1782–91), thereafter Dresden's Oberhofprediger, as one of the best-loved and most elegant preachers of his day, had turned many Saxon minds to a reflection on the nature of the Reformation. Reinhard, who mixed the advocacy of daily Bible reading with recognition of the need to mediate between Lutheran theology and the modern age, was a Christian moralist who argued, as Saxony's senior clergyman, for better Christian education in Saxon schools and universities. In 1800 he introduced the new century with a sermon based on Romans 3: 23–5 reminding his contemporaries of how unaware they were of the distance between them and what Luther taught: the new century, he said, should not forget the Lutheran articles of religion; Scripture, revelation, was about divine authority, and human reason should bow before it; there was need for a positive Lutheran faith.649 These were prophetic words in view of Wittenberg's subsequent incorporation in Prussia. Senior Saxon clergy followed events with some alarm, but with little understanding

648

H. J. Ramm et al. (eds.), Kirche im Umbruch, SHKG 5 (Neumünster, 1989), 82.

649

Modern appreciation: C. E. Schott, Möglichkeiten und Grenzen der Aufklärungspredigt dargestellt am Beispiel Franz Volkmar Reinhards (Göttingen, 1978).

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of the complex churchscape of Protestant Prussia, on the whole they overestimated Schleiermacher's ability to influence the shape of modern Prussian uniformity. Christoph Friedrich von Ammon (1766–1850), a professor of theology in enlightened Prussian, and subsequently in Lutheran Bavarian Erlangen (1792–4; 1804–13), and Göttingen (1794–1804), was Reinhard's successor as Saxony's senior clergyman at Dresden after 1813, and a pastor with similar views; he penned, with Harms in mind, a tract intended as a bitter physic for his secular times (Bittere Arznei für die Glaubensschwäche der Zeit) on 17 November 1817, three weeks after Prussia's Union and Dresden's Reformation festivities. Four editions were printed in rapid succession (1817–18).650 In the second part, using aphorism for effect, Ammon criticized the common Reformed and Lutheran celebration of the Eucharist in Berlin, and upheld Luther's Formula Missae as interpreted by Duke Henry's rite. Ammon argued that the Union's lack of doctrinal rigour would make parishioners indifferent; intercommunion, in churches separated doctrinally and liturgically, could not be achieved rashly. It was important to thrash out doctrinal differences first: Christian history showed a continuous discussion about knotty doctrinal questions. The Christian Church was entirely different from a modern state: one could not excise clauses from God's pronouncements in the same way as one could from the Prussian Code, or fashion an established faith as though it were a Prussian Landsturm. Ammon had in mind Schleiermacher's participation in the Prussian home guard, and his chairmanship of the Berlin synod (1817), which had helped draft the official Prussian announcement of a common Eucharist. How, without a clear doctrinal lead, could parishioners participate in this rite? Religious articles encapsulating the historic faith to which one belonged were dear to parishioners, especially in Saxony, the home of Luther's Reformation and a land with a strong tradition of Lutheran opposition to its Catholic ruling house. Others, such as Johann August Heinrich Tittmann (1773–1831), a pupil of Reinhard's and the senior professor in theology at Leipzig after 1818, argued in this context (Tittmann had published prayers in 1811 for public and family worship to accompany an official new Saxon draft rite 1809) that the recent common celebration of the Eucharist in Berlin was a

650

R. Bruck, Beurteilung der preuβischen Union, 24–47; Schleiermacher KGA, § 1/10, p. xvii.

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clever tactical ploy to disband the Lutheran church in Prussia and subject it to the Reformed Church.651 But it was not easy for post-war Leipzig to take the mantle of Reformation guardian from Wittenberg. Formal obedience to the Lutheran religious articles was still called for from students, though they were not taught as part of Leipzig's theology course. Dresden's policy of appointing professors of a confessional type proved, like Altenstein's, an abysmal failure amongst a more enlightened student body: the Thuringian August Hahn (1792–1863), an orthodox and royalist Lutheran theology professor at Königsberg (1819–26)—in 1834 appointed by Frederick William III as a ‘loyal’ professor of theology at Breslau, and general superintendent of Silesia after 1843—became, as a Leipzig theology professor (1826–34), the butt of student lampoons for his biblical stance. Official Saxon church policy in the decade 1830–40, marked by a heated liberal debate about church and state, became quite naturally a balancing between extremes. The chief Silesian Neo-Lutheran opponent of the Prussian 1822 rite, Scheibel, was banned from preaching in Saxon churches in 1833, the year following his taking up residence in Dresden, and Neo-Lutheranism, despite the first national gatherings in Leipzig (1843/4), was seen as an Erlangen import via Harleβ, Leipzig's professor of doctrine (1845–52). The first signs of more widespread Lutheran solidarity surfaced amongst Silesian parish clergy (509 out of 744 in 1826/7) who opposed Frederick William III's 1822 rite as a ‘Reformed’ intrusion. It was natural enough in parishes where a customary Sunday liturgy was a parochial Lutheran badge in a churchscape marked by a struggle, since the Reformation, with the Catholic church of neighbouring Poland and Habsburg Austria, and in parishes such as those of Thuringia and Saxony which retained a popular tradition of parish church music. Liturgical reform in the period 1780–1820 had little effect in the many country parishes where the main Sunday morning service with parish communion followed the structure of Saxon Duke Henry's Ordinary (notably using the old collects) and Proper, and, according to Prussian liturgical concessions (5 July 1829) to Silesian custom, was conducted by a parish clergyman wearing alb and chasuble, included a musical performance of the

651

R. Bruck, 47–55; Tittmann, Ueber die Vereinigung der evangelischen Kirchen. An den Herrn Präsidenten der berlinischen Synode (Leipzig, 1818).

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Kyrie, and a concerted church music played between the opening liturgy and sermon (instrumental music between the Hallelujah and Creed could be played also), and used the old hymn-books alongside late eighteenth-century revisions.652 Customary local observance turned controversial with Johann Gottfried Scheibel (1783–1843), a deacon at Breslau's Barbara and Elizabeth churches since 1815, and after 1818, a professor of theology at the university. Scheibel, sympathetic with contemporary Theosophy, an authority on the Lutheran Eucharist, and a bitter, at times unwarranted, opponent of the Reformed church, was the first to remind Frederick William III publicly about his public assurance (27 September 1817) to respect ‘the rights and liberties’ of the Reformed and Lutheran churches in his dominions, and he stressed, as had Harms, in tracts published in 1824–5 apropos Breslau's tercentenary of the Reformation, that royal enforcement of the 1822 rite implied—for Silesian Lutheran clergy who shared Saxon liturgical tradition and who suspected their Reformed colleagues serving Breslau's Frederician court chapel (1740)—a return to Luther's doctrinal cleavage with Zwingli over the eucharistic Presence, set out in the Marburg Colloquy (1529).653 In 1830 Scheibel chose to reject the 1822 rite, and called for an independent Lutheran church. He was promptly unfrocked; parishioners became restive; both sides dug in; finally, on 17 March 1832, Scheibel handed in his resignation as clergyman and professor, and moved to Dresden. A year later his own congregation and some thirteen other parishes had joined him. On 28 February 1834 a Prussian order reminded Silesian Lutherans that joining the Union was voluntary, but acceptance of the 1822 rite was an obligation; on 9 March a conventicle act (contravening the Code, §§ 7, 10) was reimposed: religious meetings outside family homes were forbidden, and fines and imprisonment were threatened for parishioners who attended services held by clergy who misused their office (invoking §§ 76–9 of the Code).654 In September 1834, parishioners tried to prevent an official administrator

652

J. G. Scheibel, Über die Entstehung und Fortbildung der kirchlichen Verfassung und des Gottesdienstes in Breslau seit der Reformation (Breslau, 1825), 19 passim ; Aust, Agendenreform in der evangelischen Kirche Schlesiens, 19–20, 52–4, 57–9, 71; Förster, Entstehung der preussischen Landeskirche, ii. 193.

653

Scheibel, Kurze Nachricht von der Feier des heiligen Abendmahls bei den verschiedenen Religions-Parteien (Breslau, 1824), and Über die Entstehung (1825); Kabinettsordre 27 Sept. 1817, Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, i. no. 259.

654

Ibid. nos. 268, 269.

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gaining access to the vacant parish church of Hönigern near Namslau (the incumbent was unfrocked on 25 June for refusing to use the 1822 rite, and eventually imprisoned on 17 September for simply carrying on). Altenstein, much against his principles (he did not want to admit publicly coercion of religious conscience), ordered in the army, and a new incumbent was installed by force on 24 December. Parish unrest continued; eventually emigration was officially permitted on 2 September 1837. About 1,000 ‘Old Lutherans’ left for America; in the period 1835–55 about 5,000 more followed them or went to Australia.655 This sorry tale of the last German emigration for religious reasons—the result of coercing Lutherans who wanted to be loyal to the liturgy used in their parish churches—was a telling commentary on the cautionary constitutional prose regulating church and state after 1815, and in a state where the Reformed in the Rhineland and Westphalia had gained their own church order in 1835. On the other hand, Scheibel proved too extreme even for Lutheran Dresden.656 His Reformation sermon of 31 October (on Revelation 2: 1–7) preached in Dresden's Friedrichstadt church was thoroughly disliked by tolerant Dresdeners for its spiteful and unevangelical polemics against the Union and the Reformed sister church. Ammon forbade his diocesan clergy to let Scheibel preach in Saxon parish churches for fear of causing further dissent, and Dresden's city council banished Scheibel the following year, obliging him to seek refuge with like-minded local nobility. A continuing fear of Scheibel's sectarian spirit—the part he played in the creation of Dresden's Lutheran Mission Society (1836) and its separation from Reformed Basle was noted—led to his official banishment from Saxony in November 1837. Eventually, in 1839, Scheibel moved south to Nuremberg, where he became a close friend of the Bavarian captains of Lutheran revival. The 1830s saw Neo-Lutheran programmatic definition. One could say that Hengstenberg and Tholuck at Berlin and neighbouring Halle provided both controversial publicity and a warm pastoral example; Harleβ and his successor Hofmann at more confident Lutheran Erlangen (see below), the basic academic arguments. Hengstenberg, who Pusey remembered with warm affection

655

W. Iwan, Die altlutherische Auswanderung um die Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Ludwigsburg, 1943), 2 vols.; Förster, Entstehung der preussischen Landeskirche, ii. 291 passim, and app. 19.

656

R. Bruck, Beurteilung der preuβischen Union, 95–121.

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after his first German visit (1825–6), defended every word in the Bible, using Hegel's philosophical method, in his Evangelische Kirchenzeitung. Typical was the public dispute with the liberal-minded theologians Julius August Ludwig Wegscheider (1771–1849) and Wilhelm Gesenius (1786–1842), at ‘enlightened’ Halle since 1810. Wegscheider, the author of a popular enlightened textbook on Lutheran doctrine, Institutiones theologiae dogmaticae (1815, eighth edition 1844), and Gesenius, a Hebrew scholar known for his modern Hebrew–German dictionary (1810), were arraigned, on the evidence of lecture notes (sic!), in an anonymous article (by Ludwig von Gerlach) published by Hengstenberg in 1830, for allegedly scoffing at the Christian faith. Neither was sacked, but Frederick William III decreed that, in future, only theologians who subscribed to the religious articles recognized by the Union would be appointed to university professorships.657 Tholuck, who taught at Halle for fifty years from 1826, and, through his friendship with Pusey, Regius professor of Hebrew and a canon of Christ Church in Oxford after 1828, connected with the Anglican Oxford Movement, was possibly the most influential Lutheran theologian of his generation as a pastor who restored Luther's family Bible and suitable Lutheran family daily prayers, and as a spokesman of a humane pastoral theology. Tholuck, like Schleiermacher, used an up-to-date religious psychology to relate religious will and feeling to recent knowledge; but in matters of faith, Tholuck so argued, the head was always secondary to a sound heart: Kant's moral imperative situated in the human understanding was not impartial, but bound to contemporary circumstance and the individual personality. And yet Tholuck was influenced more by his times than he thought. He exhibited an almost Pelagian understanding of human sinfulness as a healing process (Genesung), rather than an understanding of the consciousness of guilt being the first stage of Justification, to be followed by faith. Tholuck preached to his Hallesian students and university congregation a childlike, happy turning to the Cross; a reborn, heartfelt theology in the irenic spirit of Neander. He thus opposed strongly any religious orthodoxy (Tholuck never uttered the word ‘justification’ for this reason), and what he considered a typically Prussian Erastian mixture of Kantian moral imperative and military drill: ‘My Nazarene crook’, Tholuck

657

Huber and Huber, i. nos 263, 264.

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was wont to say, ‘certainly reaches further than the categorical imperative of a Königsberg corporal's baton . . . [I] would [always] rather be a lamb grazing in green fields by still waters than a [Prussian] rank and file soldier.’658 Religious experience which verifies the contents of faith lay at the heart of Tholuck's opposition to ‘rationalist’ Halle, and his historical interpretation of a coercive seventeenth-century German Lutheran Orthodoxy. One has, however, to look to Franconian Bavaria for the intellectual leadership of German and Scandinavian Lutheran revival after 1840. The Union in the Palatinate (1818), and more especially a simultaneous Catholic revival, concentrated Bavarian Lutheran minds. Symptomatic, many argued, was Ludwig I's prohibition in 1834 of Nuremberg's Central Bible Society (1823) to establish contact with similar societies outside Bavaria, and another royal directive (14 August 1838) to all military authorities, that military personnel should kneel at the elevation of the host and the blessing, at worship and in Corpus Christi processions. What became known as the ‘Kneeling Conflict’ (Kniebeugungsstreit), produced a massive crisis of religious conscience amongst Protestant Bavarian soldiers and Lutheran clergy. It lasted, with a fair number of unfrockings and imprisonments, until official revocation in 1845.659 Erlangen University provided the new intellectual muscle as the home university for Bavarian Lutherans after 1810, and as a revivalist university which appointed professors interested in Lutheran doctrine and pastoral theology (notably Christian Krafft, 1818–45), at a time when Catholic theology was being revised in the light of Schleiermacher's modern theology and Hegel's and Schelling's philosophy in the new Catholic faculty of nearby Tübingen (founded 1817).660 Johann Sebastian von Drey (1777–1853), professor of theology (after 1819), and Johann Adam Möhler (1796–1838), professor of church history (1828–35), using a new Catholic journal, Theologische Quartalschrift (1819), led the way. Also at the new local Catholic university of Munich (1826), Görres, appointed professor of theology in 1827, functioned, like Drey in Tübingen, as the head of a new influential circle of Catholic scholars: men such as Ignaz von Döllinger (1799–1890), professor of

658

Cited Toivainen, August Tholuckin Theologinen Antropologia, 316.

659

Huber and Huber, i. no. 284; RE, s.v. ‘Kniebeugungsstreit in Bayern’.

660

Reinhardt (ed.), Tübinger Theologen, 10 passim ; Jedin, Handbuch, vi/i. 294 passim; TRE, s.v. ‘Erlangen, Universität’.

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church history (1826), Möhler (after 1835), and the convert (in 1828), the Königsberger George Phillips (1804–72), professor of canon law (1834–50). They fashioned a popular new Catholic apologetics in their persuasive periodical Eos (1832). Möhler's popular Symbolik (1832; fifth edition 1838; English 1843) defining doctrinal differences in Catholic and Protestant confessional writings, Görres's rallying tract Athanasius (1837) defending the Catholic church, and the new Catholic popular journal Historisch-Politische Blatter (1838), edited by Phillips, in particular inspired Erlangen scholars to make a serious programmatic response which concentrated on the ‘nature’ (Wesen) of Luther's Reformation church. Erlangen pioneers were Johann Wilhelm Höfling (1802–53), professor of practical theology (1833–52), Adolf von Harleβ, professor of Christian ethics and theological encyclopedia (1836) until his enforced translation to Bayreuth and call to Leipzig (1845) for opposing, as a member of the Bavarian parliament representing Erlangen University, Abel's policy of Catholic restoration, and the Rankean and Hegelian, Johannes von Hofmann (1810–77), Harleβ's successor. He pioneered the theology of biblical prophecy, which he called ‘salvation history’ (Heilsgeschichte). Other notable colleagues in this first generation were the church historian (appointed 1821), Johann Georg Veit Engelhardt (1791–1855), who stressed the need for a ‘scientific theology seminar’, and the Leipziger, a preacher who packed pews, Johann Georg Benedikt Winer (1789–1858), professor of theology between 1823 and his return to Leipzig in 1832 as Tittmann's successor. He was noted for his New Testament Greek grammar (1822), and in the context of Möhler's scholarship, an authoritative comparative treatment of the Christian ‘symbols’ (1824, 1837; English 1865, 1891).661 Erlangen apologetics were amplified in Harleβ's Zeitschrift für Protestantismus und Kirche (1838–76), a journal like Rudelbach's complementary Saxon journal which was equal in stature and influence to its Catholic cousins. The new Erlangen school also put out strong feelers to other Lutheran universities, which in turn passed on the new message. This helped to restore the Lutheran notion of the home university serving the needs of its local ordinands. Engelhardt translated Geijer's Swedish history (1826), and maintained close contacts with Swedish

661

Comparative Darstellung des Lehrbegriffs der verschiedenen christlichen Kirchenpartheien (Leipzig).

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Uppsala and Lund. Hofmann, as an Erlangen graduate, influenced Rostock as a professor (1842–5). Winer and Harleβ respectively influenced Saxon Leipzig as professors, and Harleβ used his Saxon sojourn to assess the prospects of the Livonian Lutheran church (1845) at the time of the Moravian second flowering. Restored Dorpat became naturally receptive to Erlangen.662 The Hessian, Ernst Wilhelm Sartorius (1797–1859), a theologian fascinated by St Augustine's view that moral evil springs from human free will, emphasized the importance of Lutheran ‘Orthodoxy’, and doctrinal distinction—his polemics against Möhler in Hengstenberg's newspaper (1834–6) were well known—as a professor of theology (1824–35); thereafter as the general superintendent of East Prussia. Dorpat's Erlangen connection was furthered by Friedrich Adolf Philippi (1809–82)—a pious son of one of Berlin's Jewish banking families who had converted in 1829 and had warmed to Hengstenberg and Neander—as a professor of systematic theology (1841–52) who strengthened in clergy synods a united German pastoral front against Estonian and Livonian Moravian advance (thereafter influential as professor of New Testament at Rostock). Theodosius Harnack (1816–89) personified Dorpat's and Erlangen's important contributions to Neo-Lutheran pastoral theology mid-century by which he had learnt as a student at Dorpat (1834–7), and taught as a professor both at Dorpat (1843–52; 1865–79) and Erlangen (1852–65). The new Erlangen school inevitably became, via the Franconian mid-century diaspora, very influential in America also. But first and second Neo-Lutheran generations (before and after 1848) were far from being a united church party. They espoused an individualistic theology and often a very local churchmanship, however much emphasis they put on ‘fact’ and ‘objectivity’. They were, like the church musicians discussed above, children of more individualistic times. Personality and charisma counted; Brandenburg-Nuremberg and Saxon church order were only loosely binding; even Erlangen was less of a school than its theology suggested. Harleβ, the son of a Nuremberg business family, tried to unite faith, learning, and politics in a liberal sense—particularly as the controversial president of Lutheran Bavaria's senior consistory after 1852 (he was ennobled in 1854); Hofmann rejected Christian

662

TRE, s.v. ‘Dorpat’.

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politics, but inclined to ‘National-Liberalism’ out of a sense of Christian responsibility (he stood up for Schleswig's German pastorate in 1848, and eventually became a member of Bavaria's Progressive Party in 1863–9 and Kleindeutsch in 1866); Höfling, an authority on the Lutheran liturgy, stressed the constitutional congregation, notably in his wellknown Grundsätze evangelisch-lutherischer Kirchenverfassung (1850), in contrast to the ‘High-Church’ views of a countryman such as Wilhelm Löhe; Löhe in turn, steeped in Nuremberg's liturgical and pastoral tradition as a grammar schoolboy and curate (during his nine and a half months at St Giles in 1834 he packed pews for his daily Bible hours), consciously avoided the academic, and as a new defender of the Lutheran country parish office at Franconian Neuendettelsau after 1837, popularized Lutheran tradition in some sixty larger and smaller books. Authoritative were his standard work on Lutheran pastoral care, Der evangelische Geistliche (1852–8, 2 vols.) and draft Lutheran liturgy (1844) based on the Formula Missae, which helped to restore Lutheran Mattins and Evensong, and his many homespun family prayer-books.663 But in contrast to Wichern and Fliedner, Löhe also shared with Scheibel the zealous sectarian spirit: he opposed intercommunion with the Reformed, was thoroughly hostile to his neighbouring ‘Roman’ Catholic Church, even contemplated leaving his doctrinally ‘indifferent’ Bavarian Landeskirche between 1848–52, and founded his own very successful Gesellschaft für Innere Mission im Sinne der lutherischen Kirche (1849) and Verein für weibliche Diakonie, which he housed in Neuendettelsau (1854). Löhe, in this single-minded sense, almost single-handedly put Neo-Lutheran Bavaria after 1850 on the map of a new German and American missionary Lutheranism. Elsewhere too, personal charisma counted; increasingly so in the period of German unification when Lutherans felt their local identity at risk. Two north German states contributed important figures by 1848. Hanover's variety of Lower Saxon Reformation church orders, an enlightened school of clergy at Göttingen, lengthy French occupation, indifferent Hanoverian semi-enlightened

663

Agende für christliche Gemeinden des lutherischen Bekenntnisses (Nördlingen, 1844); Haus-, Schul- und Kirchenbuch für Christen (5 edns., 1901); Samenkörner des Gebets (1840; 33 edns, 1884); D. Blaufuβ, ‘Wilhelm Löhe und die alten Tröster. Zur Wirkung barocker Erbauungsliteratur im 19. Jahrhundert’, ZbKG 59 (1990), 149–62; Leiturgia, iii. 216, s.v. ‘Der tägliche Gottesdienst’.

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government in the 1820s which continued to undervalue and underpay parish clergy in much the same way as Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel in Mosheim's time, produced a strong Lutheran response amongst several notable clergy. They modelled their churchmanship on Claus Harms, and received a ministerial ear in Hanover from the ‘HighChurch’ senior diplomat, August von Arnswaldt (1798–1855). The pastor, Ludwig Petri (1803–73), known early, like Löhe, as a ‘gripping’ preacher, even whilst a curate in Hanover's Kreuzkirche (1829–36), inspired thereafter as its second deacon a Hanoverian parish clergy revival (he founded an Ordinands' Society in 1837), sponsored deanery meetings to exchange pastoral views, argued for an independent Lutheran mission based, as a corporate body, on the articles of religion—in contrast to the North German Missionary Society (1826) modelled on Gossner and linked to Wichern's Innere Mission—and founded the popular Hanoverian Lutheran Whitsun clergy conferences (1842 onwards).664 Petri was the first amongst Hanoverian Neo-Lutheran clergy to emphasize the urgency of restoring traditional church order as a leading member of a Hanoverian parliamentary commission inquiring into the relationship between Hanoverian church and state. Petri, who had discussed the way forward with Arnswaldt, was typically pessimistic about a presbyterian constitution which Hanover's parliamentarians wanted, arguing that poor Hanoverian parishes lacking a tradition of lay churchmanship could not produce responsible presbyters.665 And yet he shared a warm congregational churchmanship—mindful of the conflict between Silesian parishioners and Erastian Berlin—with two other clergy leaders: Spitta senior, the popular hymnologist of Lutheran revival, superintendent in Wittingen 1846–53 and thereafter in Peine, and, after 1849, the much-loved Lüneburger, Ludwig (‘Louis’) Harms (1808–65), who, as the successor to his father at Hermannsburg in 1849, inspired—like Löhe in Neuendettelsau—through pastoral visits, prayer-meetings, and popular soap-box preaching, a local revival at Hermannsburg, in the villages of the Lüneburg Heath, and further afield at Stade and Schaumburg-Lippe. He founded the little

664

Tiesmeyer, Erweckungsbewegung, bk. ix. 63–6; L. A. Petri, Die Mission und die Kirche, Schreiben an einen Freund (Hanover, 1841); Cochlovius, Bekenntnis und Einheit, 27–34, 103–8.

665

Bedürfniss und Wünsche der protestantischen Kirche im Vaterlande: Mitbeziehung auf den Entwurf eines Staatsgrundgesetzes für das Königreich Hannover (Hanover, 1832).

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Hermannsburg Lutheran mission (1849) which established roots in southern India and southern Africa (especially amongst the Bantu and Zulu people) thereafter. The gentrified and pitifully poor unreformed neighbouring Lutheran Mecklenburgs also experienced new pastoral leadership in the 1840s under a local clergyman's son, Theodor Kliefoth (1810–95)—after 1850 influential as an authority on the Lutheran teaching office and Formula Missae—and at Rostock University under the Hamburger, Otto Karsten Krabbe (1805–74), a pupil of Neander in Berlin and Lücke in Bonn. Krabbe, as a professor and university chaplain tried, like Tholuck and Petri, to educate a properly qualified new generation of clergy for work in the parish on the basis of local ‘objective’ church order and the avoidance of ‘extremes’; he sponsored deanery meetings, and amplified his views in a new church newspaper he founded in 1845 with Hofmann and Kliefoth, the Mecklenburgische Kirchenblatt. Kliefoth (tutor for some seven years to a more pious Grand Duke's children at Ludwigslust) brought a new studious and ‘correct’ Lutheran tone—even in clerical dress—tempered by his experience as a Berlin student (1829–30) of Schleiermacher and Neander's historical, mild, and practical pastoral theology (Kliefoth served briefly the Mecklenburg branch of the Innere Mission 1843) as the superintendent of Schwerin after 1844. In a famous pastoral letter (Twenty-Third Sunday after Trinity, 1844) to the clergy of Schwerin diocese, using Ezekiel 37, Kliefoth appealed, as had Krabbe, to his clergy, using the metaphor of a chill and cutting autumn wind blasting his withered church and parishes, to breathe fresh life into what had become dead forms and empty customs associated with an inherited customary order of worship, outdated hymn-books, catechisms, and devotional books in parish use. Pastoral discussion was the way forward.666 Kliefoth's pastoral superintendency was an uphill task, almost a lost cause, in the Mecklenburgs, but it laid the foundation of his reputation as one of the chief figures behind mid-century German and Scandinavian Lutheran liturgical revival: his new liturgical journal, Die liturgischen Blätter (1845) based on the old Mecklenburg 1602 rite, and his Die ursprungliche Gottesdienstordnung (1847), began a remarkable series of contributions.667 After 1850 Kliefoth became also a leading advocate

666

(T. Kliefoth), An die Geistlichkeit und den Lehrstand der Superintendentur Schwerin (Rauhes Haus, Horn bei Hamburg, 1844), Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbüttel.

667

Schrems, Geschichte des Gregorianischen Gesanges, 125–6, 128–9.

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of ‘hierarchy’. This resulted from his interest in the priest-led Formula Missae, but was coloured too by his home environment, which, as Wiggers pointed out in his memoirs, was one where, even within the middle class of a few towns such as Rostock and Doberan, Frau and Fräulein were only just beginning to replace Madame and Demoiselle, and where no hostile political parties and political press existed in gentrified states which kept out the faintest suggestion of southern German constitutionalism.668 The abortive revolutionary year of 1848, bracketed by many Lutheran clergy with French revolutionary centralist and levelling tendencies, became the touchstone for a distinct and divisive conservative Lutheran church politics. Minds focused on the need to campaign for a restoration of the authority of the Lutheran sacramental and teaching office (Confessio Augustana, § 7), and the authoritative established church at the expense of the congregation, whose rights were wrongly—so it seemed in 1848—championed by an allegedly Calvinist-inspired collegialism. This was formulated by senior clergy such as Kliefoth, August Vilmar (1800–68) in Electoral Hesse, and Löhe in Franconian Bavaria. It was a politics which found receptive ears in Sweden, notably at ‘High Church’ Lund (Ch. 18). In Germany, a Neo-Lutheran political defence, to the last full stop, of Reformation religious articles and local church order became anti-Prussian and sectarian almost to the point of silliness in the decades either side of national unification. It made a more liberal-minded Protestant church politics in keeping with more representative and national times of the kind sponsored by new Protestant national gatherings (Kirchentage) after 1848, and Wichern's Christian charitable mission at national level, almost impossible to introduce in local Lutheran churches, and it stamped liberal views as suspect.

668

Wiggers, Aus meinem Leben, 96 passim.

18 Church and (Nation-) State (1840–1890) I. Transregional Protestant Gatherings and Discussion About the Constitutional Position of Protestant Churches The half-century (1840–90) was marked by continuous constitutional discussion within German and Scandinavian Protestant churches. It shaped the first Protestant church constitutions. This was a fresh development which was initiated by German senior clergy and some like-minded laymen, usually senior state officials who took an interest in church affairs, and Protestant canon lawyers employed by the state as official advisers. Their discussions in a growing national framework albeit against a still plural map of German states, produced in this fifty-year period a daunting new literature on Protestant church order consisting of many volumes of constitutional legislation and commentaries thereon.669 It is neglected by historians today. Nevertheless, this was a positive step towards an understanding of how historic churches related, if at all, to the modern nation-state, and it should be recognized as such. Its timing was very unlucky, however. It was overshadowed almost totally by the more memorable political dramas of a new liberal, constitutional, and national period: the abortive revolutionary year 1848/9; the Danish-German struggle over which Slesvig/Schleswig and Holsten/Holstein was which between 1848 and eventual Danish defeat in the war of 1864; German unification (1866–71) which focused ethnic and religious identities in Livonia, Estonia, and Courland, and in the mix of German- and Polish-speaking

669

Emil Friedberg (ed.), Die geltenden Verfassungsgesetze der evangelisch deutschen Landeskirchen (Freiburg, 1885), and 4 supplementary vols. (1892–1904). Friedberg (1837–1910), a law professor at Leipzig after 1869, masterminded Bismarck's Kulturkampf legislation, and pioneered the modern legal history of marriage: see bibliography. Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, ii (1848–90), 1,036 pages (the longest amongst three in their documentary collection c. 1800–1918) is largely based on Friedberg.

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parishes in the ‘Province of Prussia’ (1828/9–78); and above all by Bismarck's Kulturkampf (1871–90). The Kulturkampf, a pomposity typical of a new strident nationalism, coined by the eminent pathologist and progressive liberal, Rudolf Virchow (1821–1902), in a speech in the Prussian Lower House (17 January 1873), was disastrous in the long run for any positive Catholic and Protestant constitutional progress—well under way already in the previous German Confederation—in the new German nation-state. It had little to do with a replay of the struggle between regnum and sacerdotium invoked by Bismarck's similar infelicity, ‘Canossa’.670 The new German nation-state (1871–1918) he forged, plural in religious composition but inert in religious matters like marriage, upbringing, and schooling was both an heir to, and still part of, this new constitutional process defining Protestant and Catholic churches in modern states. Bismarck faced, with state legislation on school supervision (1872) and the new register office (1875), a Papacy which opposed in principle the modern State it bracketed with its unfortunate experience of the French Revolution and Napoleon. Similar situations had arisen with his Prussian predecessors and Archbishops Droste zu Vischering of Cologne and von Dunin of Gnesen-Posen in the 1830s over the upbringing of children of marriages between Catholics and Protestants, with liberal Baden and Archbishop Hermann Vicari (1773–1868) over schooling in the two decades 1850–70 (obligatory civil marriage was eventually enforced in 1869, see below), and even with Catholic Bavaria when a liberal prime minister (1866–70), Prince Chlodwig Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst (1819–1901), tried to introduce a new education act in 1867 (Hohenlohe, with Döllinger in 1867, attempted to get European governments to persuade Pius IX against speaking ex cathedra). Bismarck was especially hard-faced in Prussia, because he knew all too well as a Pomeranian (and through his wife's family connection with the Pomeranian Lutheran awakening) Prussian religious division between western Reformed and Lutheran eastern provinces raised by the Union, those between Lutheran and Catholic in western Prussia and Silesia, and between Reformed and Catholic in the Rhineland and Westphalia, and how these religious divisions and a residual Protestant belief in the ‘Christian state’ which he

670

‘Nach Kanossa gehen wir nicht—weder körperlich noch geistig!’, 14 May 1872 speech, Bismarck, Gesammelte Werke, xi. 270.

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Map 3. Expanded Prussia in 1867

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experienced in Prussian Conservative opposition to his school supervision law and the register office, could wreck his state-building. However, the politics and rhetoric of the Kulturkampf produced the modern cleavage between Protestant and Catholic Germany in family, school, work, and political preferences which ultimately played both churches into Hitler's hands in 1933. Also, in the words of a historian of German local government, it masked liberal-inspired Prussian municipal reform which began gradually to separate the civil from the religious parish. An example along this road was the compromise reached with Prussia's corporate Junker rural order (division between town and country survived) in the Prussian Kreisordnung (13 December 1872), a year and a half before a Vestry Board and Synodal Order was introduced to Prussia's six Lutheran eastern provinces (24 May 1874; see below).671 Protestant clergy and laymen met in a more associative climate after 1840 in transregional gatherings to concentrate their attention on what the ‘church’ was constitutionally: to make room for the Protestant church as a self-governing corporation (a constitutional term more loosely associated with the Christian corpus used by German collegialism) in a modern State which seemed to expand its sovereign authority with legislation which no longer invoked former Christian ties. The general aim, ‘the development of the constitution [of the Protestant church] towards greater independence’, was the first of the main principles agreed at the first Protestant general synod held at Berlin between 5 January and 13 February 1846.672 This was a wistful, but nevertheless fundamental step away from the old dependent Reformation order of cuius regio. It implied a grudging, but growing recognition of congregational rights; separation of the religious parish from the civil parish (notably in social welfare: Ch. 16); and a gradual abandonment of canon law principle, ‘quidquid est in parochia; est etiam de parochia’, which obliged parishioners to use and pay for the services of the home parish clergyman. The latter was seen as a major anomaly blocking the expansion of a new and growing labour market based on wages. A quaint but typical example of its survival until abolition by state legislation was provided by this obligation of Reformed parishioners towards Catholic parish clergy in the principality of Lippe until 1854/5, and similar arrangements for Lutherans to Reformed urban

671

Heffter, Deutsche Selbstverwaltung, 546 passim.

672

Huber and Huber, i. 621.

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parish clergy in Detmold, and the Reformed, Catholics and new religious groupings to Lutheran urban parish clergy in Lemgo until 1854 and 1857.673 Abolition by one German state after another between 1818 and 1903, signifying the gradual division of the religious and civil parish, fell into step with the advance of Protestant self-government. The disruption of the provincial mould of historic Reformation church order begun by Berlin's 1846 general synod was continued by the first national Church Days (Kirchentage, 1848–72) held in different cities, and the biennial, Trinity, eight-day Protestant Church Conference held in the Wartburg at Eisenach (1855–1919); by meetings to express solidarity amongst church parties such as the Neo-Lutheran Leipzig conferences (1843/4, 1848) and the Allgemeine Lutherische Kirchenkonferenz (1868), or the ‘liberal’ Protestantenverein (1863) inspired by Reformed Basle and south-western German constitutionalism, which advocated the modern congregational principle, opposed ‘hierarchy’ in Germany's Landeskirchen, and attempted to reconcile Protestantism with modern ‘culture’, or the new Evangelische Allianz (1868) modelled on British and American evangelicalism and supportive of the Union, notably in Prussia. At another level, group Christianity was spread by charitable organizations such as Wichern's Home Mission (Innere Mission), and by foundations such as the Saxon-inspired (1842/3) Gustavus Adolphus associations based in Leipzig which aimed to help Lutherans outside local churches. At home parish level, clergy deanery meetings called into being often by local Lutheran and Reformed awakenings (Ch. 15) gave a new sense of constitutional procedure. Common Protestant purpose was facilitated after 1840 by easier travel (steamship and railway), by better print technology which produced tracts and proceedings quickly and cheaply, and by a new press. Protestant senior clergy and canon lawyers seemed to get more adventurous with constitutional experimentation, though to speak of an emergent ‘liberal’ churchscape remains a moot point: Liberal churchmanship appeared as a more significant force shaping German and Scandinavian church politics only as the nineteenth century turned (Ch. 20). Self-governing Protestant Reformation churches really took time to be grasped, and divided as much as united Protestant churchmen.

673

Freisen, Der katholische und protestantische Pfarrzwang, 3, 49–60.

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Neo-Lutherans understood the self-government of the church to mean hierarchy in a historic home church which subscribed to Lutheran sixteenth-century articles of religion; those who began to call themselves ‘Protestants’ in the new national-liberal climate of the 1860s understood the term to mean, to a greater or lesser extent, the marriage of the congregational principle with rights of citizenship of the kind conferred by the national Frankfurt Parliament of 1848. For the first time since the Reformation, Protestant Germany and Scandinavia divided in mid-century into identifiable political conservative ‘right’ or ‘high’, and liberal ‘left’ or ‘low’ church circles. But these church circles were, as the membership lists of the various gatherings show, mainly official and professional, upper-middle and middle class, and still reflected dependency associated with a corporate rural and home-town order. Their advocacy of self-governing Protestant churches thus tended to follow the introduction of limited constitutional reforms in the state: even NeoLutherans noted for their attachment to their home church started to think of self-government, implying severing links with the prince. This was risky. Karl August von Hase (1800–90), the great liberal-minded Jena (1833–90) theologian and patristic scholar—opposed in equal measure to Baur and the Tübingen school's reading of the Gospels and the shrill voice of ‘rational’ Halle and Jena theology—who had joined the Frankfurt parliament pseudonymously as ‘Karl von Steinbach’, warned colleagues about this in the reactionary climate of 1852 apropos the new liberties which had fallen into the Protestant church's lap in 1848. Liberties gained, self-government, had to be worked for and vigorously defended, Hase argued; they could be recalled just as arbitrarily by the state.674 German unification by Prussia representing the Union raised the same issue for annexed German Lutheran churches (Schleswig-Holstein, Hanover, Electoral Hesse, and Frankfurt), and the Lutheran Baltic provinces of Estonia, Livonia, and Courland. A clearly worried Theodosius Harnack, professor of practical theology at Dorpat (1865–75), sensing Russification in provinces where Estonians and Latvians had opened again to Moravian mission and converted in large numbers to Russian Orthodoxy, penned down

674

Hase, Die evangelische protestantische Kirche des deutschen Reiches: Eine kirchenrechtliche Denkschrift, 2nd edn. (Leipzig, 1852), 76. Hase was noted for his own, popular Life of Jesus (1829, 5th edn., 1865; English trans. 1860).

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the essential arguments in Die freie lutherische Volkskirche (1870): one of the most popular amongst many Lutheran tracts for the times advocating self-government as Lutheranism's best defence. In other words, Protestant churches were politicized by the expansion of the modern state in our modern constitutional sense after 1840, whether clergy (Protestant and Catholic) with little political experience liked it or not. This new process was clearly visible in the increasing muscle of the new Minister for Church Affairs and Education (Kultusminister), his ministry's increasing concern with education at school and university, and its employment of canon lawyers who worked as go-betweens for state and church. Even conservative Stockholm opened a Department for Church Affairs (Ecklesiastikdepartementet) under a minister in 1840 for most church administration including stipends and pensions, but education and cultural affairs began to dominate its business increasingly as in Germany.675 In this way, in Germany, the traditional equal mix of clergy and legal advisers in Reformation consistories and the religious language of sixteenth-century church orders was pushed aside by modern state ministries, their procedures, and their officialese. This latter found its way into church government too. Discussions were stenographed and printed officially as proceedings: those of the first nineteen Protestantentage, 1865–96, were bound as books. The language of church order took on a modern administrative and constitutional prose tone. In a period of state- and nation-building, this was prose which was also permeated by a strong idealism, high moral sentiments, and rectitude. A Neo-Lutheran such as Tholuck, or his Anglican and Tractarian friend, Pusey, disliked this phraseology as one which smacked of dull office hours, but they were forced to acknowledge it as a sign of modern church times.

II. Constitutional Provision at ‘National’ Level A. Germany Parity of three major Christian denominations under the law (1648, 1815) which was expanded after 1840 to include a limited parochial voice, reflected the increased political weight of Reformed western and south-western Germany. The Rhine-Westphalian Church

675

Brilioth, Svensk Kyrkokunskap, 368.

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Order of 1835, reflecting a shift from the Calvinist understanding of salvation (that it came by predestination), to an emphasis on constitutional representation by elected elders (better-situated parishioners) and the notion of discipline as good constitutional order, linked for the first time elective presbyteries and synods to Lutheran consistories. Both provinces were placed under a general superintendent and provincial consistory (§ 148).676 But relations with the Prussian state remained unfocused: superintendents, to take an example, acted as school-inspectors ensuring a Christian education on the Prussian state's behalf (§ 38/8, § 117). However, the Rhine-Westphalian model became normative for Protestant church government in Germany, given its propagation by the weighty voice of like-minded awakened Berlin and Stuttgart ministers, canonists, and senior clergy amongst the delegates sent by governments of twenty-seven Protestant states to Berlin's 1846 general synod. Major figures who shaped debate in this direction in mid-century and after were the following. Bethmann-Hollweg, a believer in federal ‘evangelical Catholicity’, chaired the synod, and the new Church Days (1848–72), and presided over Wichern's new national committee of the Innere Mission. The Saxon canonist, Aemilius Ludwig Richter (1808–64), one of Savigny's star pupils, a professor of jurisprudence at Marburg (1838–46), was appointed to a chair at Berlin by Eichhorn, Altenstein's successor, just before the general synod met. Eichhorn wished Richter, a liberal-minded collegialist noted for his pioneering and elegant textbook comparing Catholic and Protestant canon law (1842), to get Prussian church and state disentangled. Richter chaired the discussion and edited the proceedings of the general synod. He drafted most Prussian church legislation as a member of Berlin's new Protestant Oberkirchenrat (1850–9) and Ministry of Church Affairs thereafter, a thankless task in the course of which he retained his humour but lost his health. Richter was balanced by Friedrich Julius Stahl (1802–61), a Lutheran convert from Munich's small orthodox Judaic community (1819) and pupil of Neo-Lutheran Erlangen, who was appointed as a canonist to a Berlin chair in 1840. Stahl published the most influential conservative publication on a Protestant church constitution the same year. Stuttgart's voice was served by Karl Grüneisen (1802–78), Stuttgart's senior court chaplain (1835–68). Grüneisen, like many Tübingen ordinands in the 1820s, linked a training there

676

Huber and Huber, i. no. 267.

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with study under Schleiermacher at Berlin, and his hobby, Christian art, in a subsequent trip to Italy with the ecclesiological revival inspired by Bunsen and the Nazarene painters. He put this experience to good use in Stuttgart as a liturgical reformer of service- and hymn-book in the 1830s, as a sponsor of parish and diocesan self-government in the 1850s, and as first editor of the first Protestant national periodical on Christian art and ecclesiology, Stuttgart's Christliches Kunstblatt (1858–1918). As could be expected from a conference of official delegates meeting at a time of religious and romantic awakening, lengthy debates reopened the historic divide between Lutheran Germany and the expanding Union. Delegates in a debate about the obligation of clergy to religious articles worried too about a levelling Enlightenment (Claudius, Hamann, and Herder were invoked as counter-Enlightenment figures), and an awakening which might revive Enthusiasm in the interests of too much religious democracy.677 Agreement was reached significantly on the need to cherish historic articles of religion incorporated in Prussia's Union Church (listed one by one); that Christian tradition was anchored in the biblical canon (only Bibles without the Apocrypha were to be printed); and the New Testament sacraments of baptism and communion were reaffirmed.678 Politically, 1846 reflected the provincial undercurrent to German unification: the fear of confederate Protestant statesmen that Prussia's Union was a major agent in destroying historic political and religious identities. Landeskirchen and their senior consistories thus survived; a permanent national synod and national consistory never materialized. Nevertheless, the general synod was a big step in a risky constitutional marriage between Reformed presbytery and synod and Lutheran consistory in Protestant German states (application to Prussia's Lutheran eastern provinces was foreseen: Hauptsätze, §§ 1–14); ‘Evangelical’ was used officially for the first time to mean Lutheran, Reformed, and Union churches; and a sense of common Protestant purpose was reached in an agreement to meet every three to five years.

677

A. L. Richter (ed.), Verhandlungen der evangelischen General-Synode, 143; an alleged strict observance of religious articles in the Church of England and Church of Scotland, ibid. 141.

678

Huber and Huber, i. 618–21. An important synodal transmitter was the Swabian Gotthard Victor Lechler (1811–88). He visited England in 1840 and published the German standard works on English Deism (1841), presbytery and synod (1854). From 1858 until his death, he was a superintendent and church historian at Leipzig.

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The Frankfurt Parliament was equally influential in shaping Protestant and Catholic self-government and ecclesiology. The transformation of St Paul's church, built in the revivalist 1830s, into a national parliament was seen as a metaphor for ‘liberal’ times: a president sat where the altar had been; parliamentarians sitting in concentric semi-circular benches surrounded by a huge public gallery seating 1,500–2,000 spectators replaced the congregational nave; and pulpit and organ were hidden by flags and national emblems. A parliamentary St Paul's raised the basic modern question: what did a national parliament mean for a universal Catholic church in the middle of a religious revival, and awakened historic provincial Lutheran and Reformed churches linked respectively to ruler and town magistrate, and to government by elders in presbytery and synod? Self-government of the church seemed the only solution. But basic rights of modern citizenship (Grundrechte), coupled with paragraphs in the republican constitution (28 March 1849) defining the modern state as inert in religious affairs—freedom of faith, conscience, religious conviction (§ 144), civil liberties (§ 146), freedom to research and learn in Protestant and Catholic universities (§§ 152–6), and the basic modern constitutional rule (§ 147): every religious denomination to be governed independently, but subject to the laws of the state; none to enjoy special privileges in the state (keine Staatskirche); new religious denominations could form without having their articles of religion approved by the state—suggested that a modern national parliament might not provide sufficient safeguards for the Christian church.679 If matters were brought to a halt by Frederick William IV's rejection of a national crown and parliamentary constitution on 28 April 1849, the Frankfurt parliament was a benchmark defining a constitutional relationship between the Christian church and the modern state. It speeded up self-government amongst Protestant and Catholic churchmen, if only to secure historic identities. At the end of August 1848, Neo-Lutherans held their own Leipzig conference (some 256 clergy and laity). The first Church Day (21–3 September 1848) was convened at Wittenberg by Bethmann-Hollweg uniting some 500 Protestant laymen and clergy minus the Neo-Lutherans. It was conceived of as a confederation of Protestant churches of Groβdeutsch

679

Huber and Huber, ii. no. 9.

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format which would acknowledge, like the 1846 General Synod, historic doctrinal and liturgical divisions, and also establish Wichern's Home Mission on a national footing (Innere Mission der deutschen evangelischen Kirche). Catholic bishops met at Würzburg between 22 October and 16 November 1848 (Döllinger set the agenda) for the first time since Ems (1786), and Catholicism became associational as new Piusvereine which inspired the first Catholic Day (Katholikentag) at Mainz, 3–6 October, 1848. If 1848/9 failed to give Germany's Protestant churches a common national organization, Wittenberg did inaugurate the Deutsche Evangelische Kirchenkonferenz. The title was chosen to stress continuity with 1846; it was chaired by the same men; Wiesbaden and Stuttgart ran business in turns. It met for the first time in the Wartburg on Trinity Sunday, 3 June 1852, as a national forum for Protestant constitutional discussion in a liberal Lutheran Thuringian churchscape where local clergy tried—without much success—to introduce a common Thuringian church.680 If Eisenach differed from Berlin in the voluntary basis of a membership representing twenty-four Landeskirchen (the churches annexed by Prussia in 1866 continued to send representatives), it became the first significant Protestant German forum, and had an information-gathering agency equipped with an archive, and a newspaper, Allgemeine Kirchenblatt für das evangelische Deutschland. Richter argued that the Eisenach conferences would popularize synodal organization at provincial and parish level; that this would strengthen rather than weaken the development of self-governing Protestant churches. Eisenach spurred on a common Lutheran identity too, evident in the way discussion about Protestant Germany's plural liturgical order inspired the first common Lutheran liturgical conference at Dresden (November 1852), which began to coordinate the important reforms initiated, for example, by Kliefoth in the Mecklenburgs, and by Löhe and Erlangen theologians in Bavaria (Ch. 20). Discussion of contemporary issues raised by the rise of a German nation-state, such as registration, marriage, and divorce (especially after 1875), public worship, the traditional Christian year and holidays, charity, religious instruction in schools, and the official conduct of clergy, produced the first Protestant

680

RE, s.v. ‘Konferenz, evangelisch-kirchliche’; ‘Die Reformbewegung für kirchliche Verfassung in Thüringen, besonders in Sachsen-Weimar in den Jahren 1846–1851’, Thüringer Kirchenblatt, 1849 (after 1 July), 1850, 1851, cited Glaue, Thüringen, 70–3.

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German national arrangements, such as common guidelines for Protestant church architecture in the shape of the Eisenach Regulativ 1861 (revised 1898), and in 1865 the first proper statistical survey of German Protestant churches (minus Hamburg, Bremen, and Coburg-Gotha), which used the more reliable German census of 1861 to look especially at the income of churches and clergy positions. A commission was founded which began regular surveys after 1878–80 (Ch. 19). Also new was a more professional historical interest in the Reformation, and in bringing ancient and modern in public and private worship together in the best possible way (see Ch. 20). Some examples are the first common Protestant hymn-book containing a core of 150 basic hymns (1853), Grüneisen's Stuttgart Christliches Kunstblatt für Kirche, Schule und Haus (1858–1918) to popularize Christian art in Protestant Germany (Ch. 20), a trial run of Luther's revised New Testament (1867), daily lectionaries for use at home and church (1868), a common Protestant Church Calendar (1868, 1870), a draft revised Bible (Probebibel, 1883) and Bible (1892), a revised Little Catechism (1884) which began to replace over sixty different editions still used in 1880 in church, school, and home, and a Perikopenbuch (1896). It was introduced the following year into the eight ‘old’ Prussian church provinces.

B. Scandinavia Criticism (c.1840) of Danish (1665/83) and Swedish (1686) uniformity as anachronisms and coercion was a major feature of a burgeoning rural and township awakening and constitutional politics of a ‘liberal’ parliamentary hue, and an emergent cultural nationalism visible in the first common ‘Nordic’ political meetings (1839–1851/2) held in Copenhagen or Christiania (Oslo) which even attempted to ‘Scandinavianize’ languages, and the first common Scandinavian church synods (Kirkemøde, Kyrkomöte) held at Copenhagen in July 1857, Lund in August—September 1859, and in Christiania in July 1861. The German constitutional path was followed with great interest: most of the relevant constitutional commentaries, such as Stahl's and Richter's, found their way into the libraries of senior ministers and clergy, and the university libraries of Copenhagen, Lund, and Uppsala. Copenhagen led the way constitutionally in March 1848. The Danish Peoples' Church (Folke-Kirke), mixing the constitutional thought and debate initiated by Schleiermacher, Clausen,

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Grundtvig, and Presbyterian Scotland after the Disruption (1843), was the brainchild of an enigmatic and charmingly erratic clergyman-cum-politician who suffered from cyclothymia: Palmerston's ‘mad’ figure in his bon mot on the Schleswig-Holstein Question, Ditlev Gothardt Monrad (1811–87).681 Monrad, a leading spokesman of parliamentary government as an editor of the liberal newspaper Fædrelandet (1840) with the patriotic poet Carl Ploug (1813–94), cofounder of Denmark's Scandinavian Society (1843), and the Minister for Church Affairs in Denmark's first constitutional government (22 March 1848) who drafted Denmark's modern parliamentary constitution—thereafter briefly bishop of Lolland and Falster (1849–54) and fatefully Prime Minister between 31 December 1863 and his dismissal on 8 July 1864 over Danish defeat, which prompted him to migrate to New Zealand (1865–9)—saw synodal self-government as the best way forward.682 In circulars sent to parish clergy for commentary (May—October 1848), Monrad argued progressively, that a Danish People's Church was based on the same principles as those behind the constitutional reform of the old Danish absolute state: release the powers within the church; provide a national synod with equal numbers of clergy and laity, and leave it in charge of the liturgy and hymn-book, religious instruction, church discipline, and business concerning the clergy office and clergy stipends and pensions. This was a big step: his correspondence ending in November 1849 showed that many parish clergy became extremely confused. But Monrad's national synod was approved by 581 of Denmark's 1,231 parish clergy (c.47.2%); even conservative-minded bishops saw it as a necessary evil.683 In Copenhagen's constituent assembly, opinions divided over Grundtvig's question as to what one should understand by ‘Evangelical-Lutheran’ in Denmark. Many feared the consequences of loosening the bond between the crown and church posed by Monrad's draft paragraph 6, ‘the King shall belong to the EvangelicalLutheran Church’; and the democratic implications of paragraph 2, that Denmark's Lutheran church was the Danish Folkekirke.

681

J. Schioldann-Nielsen, The Life of D. G. Monrad 1811–1887, Manic-Depressive Disorder and Political Leadership (Odense, 1988).

682

Danes called Monrad's 1863 cabinet ‘The Million’: implying Monrad and a collection of zeros. Monrad on his New Zealand experience: ‘It raised my spirits to live in this sublime untamed nature, and to use a spade in ground which had lain untouched since creation’, Schioldann-Nielsen, 146.

683

Glædemark, Kirkeforfatningsspørgsmålet, 179.

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Denmark's basic law (Grundlov) of 5 June 1849, the June Constitution, which abolished the notion of an absolute ‘king's religion’ and introduced a constitutional hereditary monarchy with a democratic bicameral parliament, reduced Denmark's Lutheran church to a handful of paragraphs.684 The king remained a member of the Danish EvangelicalLutheran Church (§ 6), but the state was non-denominational: ministers and civil servants did not have to belong to an established church. The Danish state and Lutheran church, almost separate institutions, co-operated with each other. The State recognized established faiths (Catholics, Greek Orthodox, Jews, Reformed, and, soon, Methodists); other dissenting congregations were guaranteed assembly and freedom of religious opinion. This took the wind out of the sails of small congregations such as the Baptists who had gained ground in the 1840s. A ‘roomy’ Folkekirke (99.5% of Danes) continued broadly on the basis of the Reformation articles of religion acknowledged in 1665, and it received support from state legislation on doctrine, the liturgy, and Christian festivals. In practice, parliament (§§ 3, 6) governed a state church regulated by civil law (§ 80), though it was still common to use the old word ‘guardianship’ (formynderskab). The Danish Minister for Church Affairs, equipped with wide powers, was responsible to parliament. If little legislation was passed by parliament after 1849—abolition of the home parish principle (Sognebåndsløsningslov, 1855), the legal recognition of Grundtvigian gathered congregations supervised by bishop and rural dean, approved of by the king, and supported by voluntary congregational offerings (Valgmenighedslov, 1868), and a law of 1872 on the proper use of churches—before a series of acts passed in 1903, the June Constitution was a fundamental secular step.685 It weakened the authority of the established Danish Lutheran church. This became apparent with the appearance of a new political public in the 1860s. Parliamentary control of church finance was far less clear, though theoretically the State paid for clergy training and a Christian education in schools. Parliamentary control exposed Denmark's old Reformation economic order for the first time. A state church and new gathered congregations meant different sources and methods of

684

‘Den evangelisk-lutherske Kirke er den danske Folkekirke og understøttes som saadan af Staten’, § 3, ibid. 1, 243.

685

‘Folkekirkens Forfatning ordnes ved Lov’ § 80; Pontoppidan Thyssen, Den danske folkekirkes struktur, 41; Glædemark, 247, 260, 506.

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finance. An unfocused public debate began which rumbled on for the rest of the century; particularly amongst a liberal-minded farming interest producing for a free market. They demanded the transference of church property to the state, and called for the election of parish clergy paid by fixed stipends. In this more open churchscape, it was ironic that synodal self-government ventilated by Monrad never materialized as it did in 1863 in more conservative Sweden. Danish parliamentarians wanted no rival legislative assembly, and a powerful Grundtvigian church party feared being squashed by a parliamentary majority. Parliamentary advance consisting of five different constitutions (1849–66) and the introduction of the first proportional system in Europe by the mathematician Carl Andræ (1812–93) in 1856 with an eye to representing minorities in the duchies, the identity of the duchies themselves until Danish defeat in 1864, and rural Liberalism, interested a new Danish electorate more than did a church constitution.686 In parishes, parish clergy remained blissfully unaware of difficult modern Protestant canon law; parishioners were also cool to anything that smacked of novelty, especially legislation which suggested hierarchy and moral policing such as a presbytery (menighedsraad, circular, 24 September 1856); even at the turn of the century the average parishioner simply lacked any understanding of what the constitutional independence of the church really meant.687 But nevertheless, the Danish Folkekirke went furthest, perhaps in both Germany and Scandinavia, along the road towards implementing the voluntary principle of the gathered laypersons' church within the state before 1918. In Sweden, synodalism entered the agenda and vocabulary of diocesan debate and the theology faculties at Uppsala and Lund, and became the subject of heated exchanges in the House of Clergy between 1840 and the royal ordinance establishing a national ecclesiastical council, or synod (Kyrkomöte) on 16 November 1863; a step ahead of the abolition of the House of Clergy in the new bicameral parliament fashioned by Baron Louis de Geer (1865/6). This process differed from that in Denmark in not being an abrupt change from a church under absolutism to a church governed by the king and a modern parliament (majority rule came first in 1901); in the way Sweden's House of Clergy began, in the liberal 1840s, to

686

Ibid. 420–1.

687

Ibid. 513.

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question whether their parliament (still, since 1809, mixing church and state), really defended the church (many looked back to the seventeenth-century consistorium generale as the best way to reform the established church from within); and in the way Sweden's other parliamentary estates pressed for a basic reform of the old uniform Swedish church-state. The latter consisted of a basic municipal reform; especially local government care of the poor, which abolished the old home-parish jurisdiction, and better representation of parishioners in vestries in parishes being changed by land reform and internal migration (Ch. 16.) Sweden's awakening a decade or so later than Denmark's, especially the growth of gathered congregations of New Readers in the Härnösand diocese, but also parish revival in Stockholm and the south-west which began to look to Scottish and American free-church models and German synodalism, coloured a new public debate (1840–60) about church and state conducted in a new press and in many popular pamphlets and books. Swedish theologians also started to collect the relevant foreign literature for both their private and their faculty libraries. There was also a new evangelical presence. In Stockholm after 1830, and in the areas of Bible and tract mission and temperance in central and northern Sweden, the Scottish Methodist, George Scott (1804–72) was influential. Scott was the minister of Stockholm's British Methodist congregation, which, after 1840, gathered outside official hours of worship in a new ‘chapel’ much to the annoyance of Stockholmers.688 Although demonstrations by Stockholmers closed the chapel in 1842 and Scott returned to Britain to work as a travelling gospeller, his evangelical Christianity caught on (the chapel was reopened as the Betlehemskyrkan in 1854 by a local evangelical society), especially under his Swedish disciple, Rosenius. ‘Clergy societies’ in towns such as Stockholm, Uppsala, Lund, Narke, and Sodertälje, spread an associational message calling for more ‘religious freedoms’ and revision of Sweden's hierarchical Church Law and liturgy, and warmed to the idea of mission (home and foreign) beyond the previously isolated world of the Swedish diocese. Voluntary Protestant churchmanship outside Sweden, particularly in America, owing to the links provided by Swedish emigrants, Scotland after the Disruption, and the synodal views of

688

Lindahl, Högkyrkligt, Lågkyrkligt, Frikyykligt, 33–9.

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Schleiermacher (via Clausen in Copenhagen) and Richter, became fashionable. The American evangelical, Robert Baird, toured Sweden in 1840 lecturing on American voluntary and associative churchmanship; his book on American religious freedom was translated in 1847 (at Jönköping), a year after translation of de Tocqueville's Democracy in America (1839–46). An Edinburgh pupil of Chalmers, James Lumsden (1810–75), an Aberdeenshire Free Church minister (at Barry, near Carnoustie), who promoted Swedish translations of the Disruption debate and a common ScottishSwedish front based on former seventeenth-century links, participated in Stockholm's pioneering Allmänna Svensk Prästsällskapsmöte uniting clergy and laymen on a voluntary basis (14–17 June 1853); spoke about the Ten Years' Conflict at another similar conference at Hälsingborg (19–20 July 1853); visited several parishes in the Lund diocese; and in 1856 helped found Sweden's first National Evangelical Foundation (Evangeliska Fosterlands-Stiftelsen).689 A liberalminded Lutheran, Johan Henrik Thomander, professor of pastoral theology at Lund after 1833, and member of the House of Clergy (1840–57), preached in Scott's Methodist chapel and warmed to Richter's synodal view that the church alone was authoritative in doctrinal and liturgical matters: Thomander scorned Bunsen's speech at the Lund Luther festival in 1846 for emphasizing Luther's support of princes.690 Sweden's mid-century clergy generation, schooled in this awakened churchscape was one which despised, as being unevangelical, the presence of political bishops in the parliament of the eighteenth-century, and enlightened liturgical reform after 1793, which produced the 1811 service-book and 1819 hymn-book. Diocesan presses began to ventilate one proposal after another for a synod which would do nationally what diocesan deanery meetings did locally; drafts began to circulate in cathedral chapters and parliament. These varied between liberal—giving laymen a say in synods with powers to make decisions (beslutanderätt)—and conservative versions: clergy synods having only an advisory capacity. Norway's emancipatory Dissenter Law (1845) was closely examined.691

689

N. Rodén, ‘Skotska frikyrkans inflytande på svenskt fromhetsliv vid mitten av 1800–talet’ i. ‘T.o.m. 1854’, Kå (1956), 139–71, id., ii. 1855–7, Kå (1958), 111–42; Österlin, Thomanders kyrkogärning, 344–5.

690

Ahrén, Kyrkomöte och Synodalförfattning, 31.

691

Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19. Århundre, i. 170–85.

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Ecclesiology entered Lund and Uppsala universities (c.1840–50). If it became fashionable to speak of ‘low-church’ Uppsala and ‘high-church’ Lund thereafter, and of both theology faculties as being immensely influential in their respective ways in shaping the churchmanship of their diocesan hinterlands until a more liberal turn of the century, there was in practice more of a mix of this theological and ecclesiological influence amongst parish clergy, and both tendencies drew as much on Swedish tradition and Swedish debate spurred on by the spread of an indigenous revival and the inevitable reform of traditional pastoral care it caused, as they did to Scottish and American evangelical churchmanship, and German collegialism or Neo-Lutheranism. The Anglican revival was noted by Lund theologians (c.1850), but did not become influential with a senior pastorate whose second language was usually German, and who found Kliefoth's neighbouring Neo-Lutheran ritualism congenial. Thomander, as a member of the parliamentary commission revising Sweden's Church Law (1846), pioneered the Swedish church's synodal way forward in this light: a national synod was to be summoned when king, bishops, and chapter thought appropriate; membership would consist of the primate and bishops (including Stockholm's senior), the Minister for Church Affairs, the professors of theology at Uppsala and Lund, and one clergyman and layman elected by the parishes of each diocese. Thomander's synod possessed the right to decide in administrative affairs, but in liturgical matters it was checked by the right of each parish to retain its old church books as long as it thought fit. This was in keeping with Thomander's call for a professional pastoral theology coloured by modern German textbooks, and his congregationalism influenced by collegialism.692 His synodal reading of Schleiermacher, Claus Harms, and Richter was supported by several Uppsala theologians who shaped a similar new ‘low-church’ archdiocese at this time. They were inspired locally by the Swedish romantic history and more socially minded politics of Geijer and Almqvist, and the growth of the New Readers. Three theologians stand out: Anders Erik Knös (1801–62), Lars Anton Anjou (1803–84), and Anders Fredrik Beckman (1812–94).

692

Österlin, 114–15; influence of Richter's view that doctrinal and liturgical matters were a matter for the church alone, and Clausen's reading of Schleiermacher: Ahrén, 33 passim.

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Knös, rector of Gamla Uppsala and a professor of pastoral theology (after 1835) and exegesis (after 1852), was, like Thomander, involved in the same parliaments and of the same synodal persuasion when revising Sweden's Church Law. As one of Geijer's pupils fascinated with source-based work, Knös saw in an organic sense the historical Christ of the New Testament proved in the witness of His disciples and Gospels; he sidelined modern Tübingen historical theology. Knös, like Thomander, warmed to Schleiermacher, Richter, and Claus Harms's pastoral theology, which he translated (1839), editing a new church journal (Ecclesiastik Tidskrift, 1839–42) with him. Knös wanted the parish council to be equally responsible with the parish clergyman, and wanted this representation reflected in a synodal constitution working its way up to national level, though he was sceptical as a parish clergyman close in his views to Spener's pious Hausstand about the readiness of Swedish parishioners for this degree of self-government.693 Anjou, another of Geijer's pupils (he published one of the first modern school history textbooks in 1842, a three-volume history of the Swedish Reformation in 1850–1, and a sequel covering 1593–1700 in 1866), was ordained in the same year (1827) as Knös, shared similar views to Knös as a professor of theology and rector of Uppsala's Holy Trinity (1845), Minister for Church Affairs (1855–9), bishop of Visby (1859), and influential member of the Swedish parliaments (1859–66). The younger Beckman, a professor of pastoral theology (1847–8), became possibly the most influential Uppsala synodal spokesman in the decade 1850–60; also as bishop of the huge Härnösand diocese after 1864. Influenced by a mix of German devotional Pietism and Neo-Lutheranism of the kind exemplified by Philippi's Rostock theology and Höfling's Erlangen ecclesiology, Beckman sponsored division of the religious from the civil parish, and lay preaching as a way of checking ‘high church’ hierarchy, notably in the 1865–6 parliament, and new Upper House (1867–72). All three ventilated these synodal views in a brief but popular new journal, Tidskrift för Svenska Kyrkan (1849–51), which complemented advocacy of an earlier, though more Neo-Lutheran mix of consistory and presbytery using Rudelbach's ecclesiology to pour scorn on Methodism and Scottish-American free-churchmanship in a similar journal, Nordisk Kyrkotidning

693

Knös, Kurze Darstellung . . . der schwedischen Kirchenverfassung, 58. Knös wrote this short digest to complement Schubert's on the prompting of Harleβ. Richter's influence on Knös, Ahrén, 43.

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(1840–9), edited by a Stockholm curate close to the devotional piety of the Readers, Johan Ternström (1803–82).694 Party strife between low and high came to a head (1850–70) in a political environment described by the Lundensian, Henrik Reuterdahl (see below) in an anonymous tract on Swedish church and school (1853), as restless, and impatient for change.695 Tempers rose because this new, agitated mood implied the end of the old congruent order of church and state. Thomander, as bishop of Lund (1856–65), used his episcopal arm, with the support of like-minded Uppsala colleagues, to push through his synodal proposal in parliament, though he remained critical of the Scottish Free Church model, notably in the 1856–8 parliament which debated the abolition of Sweden's 1726 Conventicle Act, arguing for adequate safeguards against proselytism and heresy. He received support too from his Schartau-inspired diocesan clergy: notably Hans Birger Hammar (1814–62), rector of Mjällby in Blekinge after 1851, who had warmed to Lumsden's visit, helped found the Christianstad Tract Society (1855), and was a popular speaker in the Copenhagen, Lund, and Christiania Scandinavian clergy conferences (1857–61). Hammar founded a new journal whose title, Evangelisk Kyrkowän (Evangelical Church Friend, 1852–7), stood for the new bond of voluntary fellowship. In it he argued that it was time Swedish clergy broke out of their isolation, that it was time to abolish gags on the voice of laity, such as Sweden's Conventicle Act, and time to place more emphasis, as did the Scottish Free Church (1853 was the earliest use of ‘Free Church’ in a Swedish context), on the gathered, self-governing congregation of the New Testament. But such arguments, notably the idea of the voluntary, gathered congregation, faced the bold conservative opposition of mid-century Lund theologians. Lund ecclesiology, both a reaction to enlightened ecclesiology contained in Lindblom's authorized catechism (1810), the revised Swedish service-book (1811), and Wallin's authorized Swedish hymn-book (1819), and a mix of Lund, Erlangen, and Rostock Neo-Lutheran pastoral theology and

694

J. Ternström, Om Lekmannaverksamheten (Christianstad, 1858); Om kallelsen till Predikoembetet (Lund, 1868); Ahrén, 69 passim. Similar evangelical criticism of the clergy office: P. A. Akerlund, Wet du hwad Prest är (Uppsala, 1857).

695

‘Vår tid är en tid af rörlighet, af oro, af sträfvande till forändring’ (H. Reuterdahl), Svenska kyrkans och skolans ifrågavarande angelägenheter (1853), 1, cited Helander, Den liturgiska utvecklingen i Sverige 1811–1894, 35.

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ritualism associated with Schartau, Löhe, Vilmar, and Kliefoth, became important nationally, chiefly because Henrik Reuterdahl (1795–1870) and Anton Niklas Sundberg (1818–1900), two of its exponents, were able to amplify Lund high-churchmanship as successive Swedish primates (1856–70 and 1870–1900). Ability, connections, and preferment counted in the rise of this church party; especially for men such as Reuterdahl, the son of a Malmö wigmaker, or Sundberg, the son of a Gothenburg businessman in a still conservative Swedish social order. On the other hand, liberal mixed with conservative at Lund as it did at Erlangen. Reuterdahl, as a Lund ordinand and young lecturer, warmed to Schartau and Thomander, and was one of the first to break away from the hold of Swedish letters, inveigling the leading Danish publisher to open a dependency in Lund (1826) for the import of foreign literature. As the university librarian (1833), he bought modern German theological and ecclesiological literature during a German tour (1835) undertaken to study Protestant universities and their clergy training. As senior professor of theology and cathedral dean (1845–52), Reuterdahl brought this freshness approach and German system to Lund, as had Harleβ at Erlangen, and, as a historian like Knös and Anjou, pioneered a source-based narrative history—perhaps a trifle dry—of the Swedish Reformation (four volumes to 1522, 1838–66). Sundberg, a student and teacher at Uppsala (1836–46), and at Lund successively professor of church history (1849–50), doctrine and moral theology (1852–56), and church history and symbols (1856–64), was similarly influential. Both were lucky to have two brilliant pastoral theologians as colleagues: Ebbe Gustav Bring (1814–84), a professor of pastoral theology (1848–56) and cathedral dean at Lund (1856–61), bishop of Linköping thereafter; and Wilhelm Flensburg (1819–97), a theologian (1847–58) close to Philippi's Rostock theology, professor of doctrine and moral theology (after 1858), and Thomander's successor as bishop of Lund. Bring and Flensburg shared the German NeoLutheran view of an active clergy office dispensing the means of grace, baptism and communion (Luther's order of salvation), a passive congregation, and a return to Reformation liturgies as called for by Kliefoth. Bring became the chief spokesman for the conservative clergy party in all the parliaments after 1853, and in the new ecclesiastical council a decade later. Bring, Flensburg, and Sundberg, supported by the anonymous

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pen of Reuterdahl as archbishop, used, like their Erlangen counter-parts and Uppsala opponents, a new programmatic press, Swensk Kyrkotidning (1855–63). In a way their press was comparable as a public apologia, even in its Lutheran understanding of the Eucharist, to Anglican Oxford's Tracts for the Times, though Lund and Erlangen pastoral theology and Kliefoth's ecclesiology and ritualism contained in his recent Acht Bücher von der Kirche (Schwerin and Rostock, 1854), were used as the principal sources to counter Sweden's enlightened liturgical order of 1811, and midcentury evangelicalism.696 Articles in the paper argued that the (Lutheran) Church, divinely instituted at Whitsun (nådeanstalt), was a corporate institutional body, and not merely the sum of individuals; that it based its teaching on the Augsburg Confession's seventh article, ‘the Church is the congregation of the saints in which the Gospel is correctly taught and the sacraments are correctly administered’, though ‘right faith’ (vere credentium) used in congregatio sanctorum et vere credentium (§ 8), it seems, was stressed at the expense of an active congregation: only an orderly ordination conferred the right to administer the means of grace in contrast to a subjective faith associated with Pietism and modern freechurchmanship. Swensk Kyrkotidning was therefore highly critical of the synodal debate conducted in the 1853–4 and 1856–8 parliaments, and Thomander's synodal proposals (thirty clergy and laity each, equipped with a legislative initiative, but no rights of decision) sent in 1856 to all Sweden's cathedral chapters. High-church Lund's hierarchical and dogmatic stance, like Kliefoth's, masked in the long run its positive contribution to a better historical understanding of Lutheran ecclesiology by a new late nineteenth-century episcopate and clergy who bore little resemblance to the political and humanist generation in office until c.1830. Wags criticized Swensk Kyrkotidning for not standing ‘on its own foot’ (in Swedish, fot), ‘but on Kliefoth’, and modern assessments have emphasized the unforgiving correctness of Lund high-churchmanship: its propensity to use the coercive legislation of the old Caroline church, thereby providing Swedish dissent with its martyrs, and its general failure to realize that Sweden's social order had moved on since 1686.697

696

Bring, ‘Om Kyrkan’, Swensk Kyrkotidning, 1855, 1 passim ; G. Billing, Biskopen M. M. Ebbe Gustaf Bring, några minnesblad (Lund, 1886), 59.

697

Newman, Svensk högkyrklighet, lågkyrklighet och frikyrklighet, 246–52; R. Bring, ‘En kultursyntesens teologi: Några drag ur lundensiskt teologist tänkande 1862–1912’, STK (1963), 137–44.

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

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But the modern constitutional tide could not be turned. Abolition of Sweden's Conventicle Act (1726) on 26 October 1858, and an enactment permitting dissenting Swedes to leave the established church, provided they joined another Christian denomination, on 23 October 1860, abolished historic religious uniformity. The new king, Charles XV (1859–72), was also determined to exercise full constitutional powers; even to govern alone as the ‘people's king’, though it was said that everything, including parliamentary reform, went against the will of a king weak on principles, as was his friend over the water at Amalienborg, King Frederick VII (1848–63). Crucial to synodal change was the appointment of Baron Louis de Geer (1818–96), a lawyer and king's man, as Swedish Chancellor in 1858. He used his reading of Mill, Guizot, and de Tocqueville to argue in parliament in the summer of 1861 that Sweden's four estates were as out of step as the British landowning aristocracy in the House of Lords: a middle-class, propertied parliament supervised by an Upper House was the best way to protect Sweden's crown and church in a new constitutional age. De Geer's parliamentary reform, which excluded the House of Clergy, made a national synod reality. A draft reform bill put before parliament in January 1863 worried the House of Clergy (as in Denmark in 1849) greatly, notably two paragraphs: (§ 87.2), which allowed parliament ‘jointly’ with the king to issue, change, and abrogate church laws with the consent of a national synod, and (§ 26), which ruled that members of parliament could only be Swedish citizens who professed ‘Christian-Protestant doctrine’.698 Archbishop Reuterdahl protested vehemently, with Sweden's dissenter legislation (1858–60) in mind, about a parliament without clergy representation governing Sweden's established church with parliamentarians (‘Protestant-Christians’) who might be dissenters: church and state were inseparable. Sweden's ecclesiastical council followed swiftly on 16 November 1863.699 It was to meet under the archbishop as chairman, or in his absence under a bishop appointed by the king for one month, the date and place being fixed

698

‘Riksdagen äge ock gemensamt med konungen stifta, förändra eller upphäva kyrkolag; dock at därvid erfordras samtycka jämväl av allmänt kyrkomöte’ (§ 87.2); ‘som bekänna sig till kristen-protestantisk lära’ (§ 26); Ahrén, 227 passim.

699

‘Memorandum on the Constitution of the Ecclesiastical Council of Sweden’, SPCK (ed.), Report of the Joint Commission of Canterbury ‘On the Position of the Laity ’ (London, 1902), 89–90.

480

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by the king, every five years or more often, and its membership included sixty persons: thirty clergy—twelve bishops plus Stockholm's senior, four theology professors (two each from Uppsala and Lund), and thirteen elected clergymen, one from each diocese and one from Stockholm—and thirty laymen in numbers varying according to the importance of particular dioceses. The election of lay representatives was indirect: vestrymen (Kyrko-Stamma) elected the electors; electors voted by ballot, the votes being collected by a returning officer appointed by the cathedral chapter; electoral districts were fixed by the king. Royal business took precedence over other business; the function of the synod was to report to the king. All decisions were made by a simple majority except in doctrinal and liturgical matters: Bible revision, new hymn-books, service-books, and catechisms were to be introduced first by the clergy, and no changes could be made without acceptance by two-thirds of members present. A lay majority first prevailed in the council in 1949, when its composition was changed to fifty-seven laymen and forty-three clergy. If de Geer's new bicameral parliament of 1865/6 reduced the historic authority of Sweden's established Lutheran Church in Swedish politics, the new ecclesiastical council, which met under the high-church chairmanship of Archbishop Reuterdahl for the first time in 1868, became an important new national clergy forum in a country where urban liberalism was still a very limited political force, and royalist ministers such as de Geer (who promptly appointed the Lundensian Sundberg, bishop of Karlstad, to be speaker in the new Lower House against the wishes of a protesting farming lobby), favoured establishment. It was a time too when the Swedish and Finnish Lutheran churches finally went their separate ways. A new Finnish national Church Law with synodal provision using German and Swiss precedent, drafted by Frans Ludvig Schaumann (1811–77), a professor of practical theology at Helsinki University (1843–65), and thereafter bishop of Porvoo, was promulgated on 6 December 1869, and became law on 1 July 1870.700 Legislation was put in the hands of a General Synod (two-fifths clergy; three-fifths laity) under the Department for Church Affairs in the Finnish Senate. Finns were

700

Schaumann, a canonist, published Handbok i Finlands kyrkorätt (1853), i, and edited Tidskrift för Finska Kyrkan (1857–60) with an eye to German ecclesiology learnt on a visit in 1851; commentary: Rosenqvist, Schaumann, i.

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

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allowed to leave the established church; school administration was hived off from the three cathedral chapters with the church retaining only a supervisory role in education (although head teachers had to be Lutherans). Finland's few Jews, however, were not granted civic equality until 12 January 1918. The new Church Law completed official separation of Finland's civil and religious parishes in 1865.

III. Protestant Self-Government in German Lands Synodal government of German Protestant churches developed at provincial rather than national level in the historically varied Protestant churchscape of ‘German lands’—a still more appropriate phrase for this fifty-year period which saw the rise of the German nation-state. Protestant churchmen schooled in local custom-bound churches with strong historic identities found Bismarck's new national framework extremely difficult to get used to. Modern collections of constitutional documents on church and state give the erroneous impression of a more orderly constitutional process and organization than actually obtained.701 Once again variety obscured a sense of the whole. These provincial church constitutions, though, tell us as much about local circumstance as the sixteenth-century church orders they replaced. One can start with the German periphery linking Protestant German with Protestant Scandinavian: with the chequered development of German Lutheran self-government in gentrified Livonia, Estonia, and Courland. It was a defensive existential response to a large-scale Estonian and Latvian Moravian awakening and conversions to Russian Orthodoxy after disestablishment of this provincial Lutheran church by the Russian 1832 Church Law (Chs. 14, 15). Synodalism grew with a local German pastoral revival which was coloured by Erlangen and awakened Berlin pastoral theology taught at Dorpat after 1825. Annual deanery meetings (‘synods’) introduced by the 1832 law (§§ 438–58) helped as forums to instil a new sense of common pastoral purpose amongst parish clergy. They united in the first Livonian ‘synod’ (1834), and subsequently under the pastoral sponsorship of Dorpat's professors Philippi (1841–51) and Theodosius Harnack (1845–53) in a new transregional pastoral

701

Notably, Huber and Huber, ii.

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PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

mission to challenge Estonian and Latvian voluntarism. Goβner's St Petersburg (1820–4) and Berlin (after 1829) pastoral missions were extremely influential too. Adolf von Harnack, who grew up and studied in Dorpat (1851–72), records the indelible impression Goβner's (still a Catholic) St Petersburg Sunday school left on his father, and how Goβner's irenic spiritual influence rooted ‘in the old, ecumenical and ideal Catholicism’ shaped family piety, and in the long run helped his own assessment of the Roman Catholic church.702 Parish clergy increased visitation, and tried to improve ethnic participation in public worship by founding, with Estonian and Latvian choral tradition in mind, the first ethnic parish choirs in the southern part of Estonia (notably at Oberpahlen/Poltsamaa), parish Bible hours, and Bible and mission festivals. Pastoral mission was seen as the only possible way forward in a gentrified church. Lutheran ecclesiology became naturally dominant under Theodosius Harnack, who opened discussion—with an eye to the obvious Moravian and Russian Orthodox challenge—with a commentary on the basic Lutheran religious articles (1845): what the Lutheran church was based upon, its essence (Wesen), and what it professed.703 This could only be understood, Harnack argued, by a historical investigation of Lutheran origins and religious articles: history, ‘objectivity’, was the only way to defend the historic Lutheran church, rebuild the authority (Amt) of the clergyman, and preserve allegiance to the two Lutheran sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist at a time of awakened religious unrest. Harnack's view formed the substance of almost every Livonian synod concerned with a response to Moravian and Russian Orthodox advance in the two decades 1840–60: particularly those of 1849, 1852, 1853, and 1858/9 (Harnack chaired a 1851/2 committee of enquiry on the ‘Moravian Question’).704 Parish clergy began to think constitutionally: how, for example, to improve the liturgy in a committee appointed and chaired by Harnack shortly before his call to Erlangen

702

‘Das ist später meiner Beurteilung des Katholizismus zugute gekommen—des Katholizismus, wie er sein Könnte!’, Zahn-Harnack, Adolf von Harnack, 2.

703

‘Was die evangelische Kirche wirklich ist und sein will, worauf sie gründet, worin ihr Wesen besteht, was sie bekennt’, T. Harnack (ed.), Grundbekenntnisse, xiv: Oberpahlen—Johann Friedrich La Trobe (1769–1845), churchwarden in the 1830s, Andreas Martin Wilberg (1821–1903), cantor and schoolmaster (1840–5), and Emil Hörschelmann (1810–54), vicar (1838–53), Arro, Geschichte der estnischen Musik.

704

Garve, Konfession und Nationalität, 70.

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

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(1853–65)—also at the 1859 synod—and how to improve pastoral work in unreformed large parishes. Synodal thinking gathered pace in the synods held after 1860 under two of Philippi's pupils, the pastoral theologians Alexander von Oettingen (1827–1905), appointed in 1856, a brilliant, histrionic figure (he knew Faust by heart)—whose authority caused him to be nicknamed ‘the Pope’ and his Dorpat home accordingly ‘the Vatican’, by parish clergy—his brother-in-law, Moritz von Engelhardt (1828–81), appointed in 1858, and Harnack who returned (1865–75) refreshed by his experience of Erlangen. Political circumstance in the decade 1860–70 quickened the pace of synodalism; but in contrast to the pressure of parliamentary reform in Sweden, German unification by Prussia (1866–71), a strong German baronial reaction, in defence of their corporate order, to Russification (representatives of the Livonian Ritterschaft even refused to carry on a tradition of attending Riga's Russian Orthodox cathedral on the Czar's birthday and other state occasions), and prosecutions against ninety-three of Livonia's 105 clergy for allegedly allowing Estonians and Latvians to reconvert from Russian Orthodoxy (1870), provided the impetus in this provincial church with a strong sense of customary roots. Harnack's popular Die freie Lutherische Volkskirche (1870; see above) was also a part of a new ‘Baltic German’ defensive publicity in unifying Germany which used the publishing houses Duncker & Humblot in Berlin and Hirzel in Leipzig; encouraged publicity visits such as that of publicist Julius Eckardt (1836–1908) in 1867; and looked naturally to Lutheran Bavaria, and to Harleβ as an obvious champion of Livonia's beleagured Lutheran church.705 Harnack confronted his readers with the modern fact that ‘confession’ (Bekenntnis) was no longer respected, and too exposed in rapidly changing times.706 The Lutheran church had a choice, Harnack argued: either to continue as an ecclesiola (Winkelkirche), or as an Erastian ‘national and democratic church’ (Massenkirche) subordinate to church legislation governed by political criteria. The Lutheran church could only survive in modern public life if it developed its inner spiritual self as a Lutheran ‘People's Church’ (Volkskirche) independent of the modern state but under an active clergy office (Amt), and divided into an inner, governing, circle of

705

Eckardt, Lebenserinnerungen, i. 181–2; Kahle, Begegnung, 107, 152 passim.

706

H. Wittram, Die Kirche bei Theodosius Harnack, 160 passim ; Garve, 126 passim.

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PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

active Lutheran communicants (Abendmahlskreis), and a wider circle of Lutherans in name (Taufkreis). Harnack's was a bold formulation, but a shot in the dark amongst anxious clergy who noted fearfully in their synods Prussian annexations of Lutheran provincial churches in 1866, the growing separation of church and state by Prussian Kulturkampf legislation, Russification, and the onset of an Estonian and Latvian ethnic renaissance. Finland's autonomous Lutheran church had also gained a national synod in 1869 and they had not. What if they lost the patronage of the barons who were obviously shocked by the disruptive implications of Harnack's argument in the liberal Alexandrine 1860s in Estonian and Livonian parishes which included new Russian Orthodox minorities, even majorities? Estonian and Latvian parish representation became an obvious issue in large parishes as a result of a 17 per cent population increase following the lifting of the last restrictions on peasant freedom of movement. Livonian parishes, often containing several chapels of ease, averaged c.5,700 parishioners—fifteen parishes had risen to 10,000 or more. In Estonia, the average parish had risen to 7,800 (1866); for a while a commission of clergy and barons was able to establish a new parish annually.707 What did one do, given the 1832 Church Law which made property (§§ 486, 489), meaning only the parish baronage, the precondition of serving on parish councils (Kirchenkonvent), even when Estonians and Latvians were allowed to buy land (1849), or were freed (1866) from manorial supervision by local government reform (Landgemeindeordnung)? German parish clergy worried about ethnic participation in parish affairs: either Estonians and Latvians were seen as unready and unfit for the job, or their participation in clergy appointments would nurture a new national spirit of party (Wühlerei), or their voice in parish councils could destroy a baronial patronal interest in the local Lutheran church; whether German incumbents liked it or not, they were reliant on baronial patronage for the payment of stipends and maintenance.708 A majority began to argue that their local church was after all a Landeskirche, and not Harnack's gathered church (Personenkirche). Clergy drew back from the full implication of synodalism. The will to reform ebbed. A change of sorts was enacted in 1870 by the Livonian Landtag. It agreed to a division of parish councils—basically a fudge paying scant

707

Garve 135.

708

Ibid. 140–1.

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

485

attention to an ethnic parochial voice—into two independent bodies (Konvente): one managing church and school affairs in which carefully selected peasant representatives possessed an advisory vote with local squires for the first time, and one managing parish affairs which excluded an Estonian or Latvian voice. Similar reform was attempted in the Estonian Landtag in 1881 and 1896, but failed to receive official approval. Little changed before it was forced to do so by Alexander III and his Russifying provincial governors, and by cases of ethnic parochial unrest after 1880. Livonian and Estonian Lutheran clergy showed that self-government of the Lutheran church stopped, however wellintended their pastoral revival and mission, as soon as their German identity was threatened by Estonian and Latvian demands for a say in parish affairs. Their existence was dependent, whether they approved or not, on the manors in their parishes. Von Hase's caveat uttered in 1852 applied also to the shape of synodal organization in the varied Protestant provincial churchscapes of the German Confederation and the German empire. But the period 1840–90 was one where new constitutional terms, however limited in practice by patronage and property qualifications, changed the religious substance of the extended family of German Reformation church orders: ‘church constitutions’ (Kirchenverfassungen) called ‘synodal’, balancing presbytery with consistory in the phrase ‘Vestry Board and Synodal Order’ (Kirchenvorstandsund Synodalordnung), and amidst growing municipalism, recognition of a constitutional ‘Parish Order’ (Kirchengemeindeordnung). It was a sign of the times that Richter left out the liturgies and concentrated on sixteenth-century church orders as constitutional documents, which he edited in 1846.709 The progress of Protestant constitutionalism depended on balances between the religious (or not) and constitutional preferences of local rulers, local parliaments, and clergy in consistories and presbyteries. It was not always a division between a more constitutional southern Germany—though the grand duchy of Baden provided an important new Protestant framework (1821)—and a conservative north and east, or between expanding Prussian Erastian Union leadership and the rest of Protestant Germany, though this became obvious after 1866.

709

Hope, ‘View from the Province’, JEH 41 (1990), 618–19.

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PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Little states could provide precedents. Full religious toleration was granted in the grand duchy of Hesse on 2 August 1848, and this was supplemented by a register office the following day. A new Protestant synodal constitution mixing presbytery and consistory was promulgated on 14 November 1849, though the principle of state supervision (Staatsaufsicht) was established as in the Prussian 1850 constitution. On the other hand, synodal government took time to mature, and became more of a reality for the first time in the period of unification under the president of the Darmstadt senior consistory, Carl Ernst Rinck Freiherr von Starck (1796–1875). He eventually introduced, on 6 January 1874, a ‘constitution’ for the grand duchy's ‘Protestant church’. Much further north, in the grand duchy of Oldenburg (Oldenburg, the former prince-bishopric of Lübeck governed by Lutheran Eutin, and the Birkenfeld principality with a Union church), a basic law (18 February 1849) incorporated all the religious liberties of the Frankfurt parliament, and a general synod met accepting this as a basis for a new ‘Protestant church’ which avoided any reference to ‘confession’. An elected Oberkirchenrat abolished the idea of summus episcopus. This was a little too much for Grand Dukes August (1783–1853) and Peter (1827–1900), who restored at least their episcopal authority and Reformation articles of religion: the first in a revised basic law (22 November 1852), and the second in a revised church constitution (§ 2, 11 April 1853). On the other hand, Oldenburg's revised basic law (1852) retained the 1848 liberties, and a Protestant church tax was fixed constitutionally for the first time in Germany (§ 81), some forty years before the same principle was introduced in the southern German states. Like several other little German states, Oldenburg supported the idea of a national Protestant synodal and confederal church, notably under its Oberkirchenrat Justus Friedrich Runde (1809–81), who played a prominent role in the new Church Days.710 Elsewhere, progress was more gradual, with a major burst of provincial self-governing activity after 1860. This was largely a response to liberal political and economic legislation which only a modern new German nation-state, inert in religious affairs, could enact, such as: local government reform separating the civil and religious spheres of parishes, state school and university education;

710

Huber and Huber, ii. nos. 18, 159.

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

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removal of religious disabilities, such as repeal of various debt and usury laws; recognition of the right to reside where one liked free of the old customary and religious sanctions; freedom to exercise a trade (Gewerbefreiheit); emancipation of the Jews in Prussia (1869; thereafter in the other states); and, with the 1875 register office, civil marriage. It was possible for the first time for persons of different faiths, or no faith at all, to marry outside the Christian church. In the words of the act which established the register office, civil marriage solved a problem which had grown with modern times in a customary religious order: ‘the majority of Germany's provinces lacked a form of marriage between persons, one of whom remained within the Church, and the other, without. Mixed marriage, as long as marriage in church remained obligatory, was an inexhaustible source of confessional strife’.711 Prussia, between her revised constitution (31 January 1850) and the establishment of a vestry board and synodal order (10 September 1873) for her six eastern, mainly Lutheran core provinces (Province of Prussia until divided west-east again in 1878, Brandenburg, Pomerania, Posen, Silesia, and her Saxon province) and a general synod on 30 January 1876 (the substance of Prussian constitutional church government until 1918), exemplified the almost insoluble church politics of striking a reasonable balance—using an enormous amount of legal paperwork—between a modest degree of Protestant self-government, and constitutional inclusion in an Erastian state which alternated liberal and conservative church policy. The appointment of the right man as Minister for Church Affairs became extremely important after 1850 in a state which still retained its character as a Protestant provincial archipelago. Unification amplified this situation. Prussia, the dominant Protestant state in Bismarck's new federal nation-state, faced an even larger collection of church parties ranging between the Neo-Lutheran ‘Old Believers’ (Altgläubigen), the broad church (Vermittler), and the frankly liberal. The personality and churchmanship of the Minister for Church Affairs became crucial; not least because King William I, a conservative-minded monarch like his two predecessors, used his minister both to represent the state, and to act as the go-between for Berlin's Oberkirchenrat and the new Prussian provincial consistories of Kiel, Hanover, Kassel, Wiesbaden, and Frankfurt. Heinrich von

711

T. Ramm, Familienrecht: Recht der Ehe (Munich, 1984), i. 68, cited Hope, ‘View from the Province’, 620.

488

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Mühler (1862–72), a conservative close to the Kreuzzeitung, was too insensitive; Adalbert Falk (1872–9) was obviously too liberal, and caused more religious ‘clamour’ by enacting legislation inspired by Bismarck than the king would have liked; his milder conservative successors, Robert von Puttkamer (1879–81), and Gustav von Göβler (1881–91) were more to the king's liking.712 The same issue coloured appointments to the presidency of Berlin's Oberkirchenrat: Emil Herrmann (1872–8), a noted canonist appointed by Falk, who saw through Prussian synodal church government, was obviously considered much too liberal. Falk was forced to replace him with the conservative Ottomar Hermes (1878–91). Appointments to university Protestant theological faculties became even more sensitive than under Altenstein, particularly in Catholic faculties in the climate of the Syllabus of Errors. The path taken towards Protestant self-governing bodies had much to do with a new Lutheran free church, pointedly called Altlutheraner, in Silesia and recognized by an 1847 religious patent, which worried king and ministers in Berlin greatly. A constitutive document (13 February 1849) establishing a separate department of Berlin's Ministry for Church Affairs devoted solely to Protestant church matters, the forerunner of Prussia's more bureaucratic Protestant senior consistory (Evangelischer Oberkirchenrat, 29 June 1850), with this in mind acknowledged for the first time the Lutheran church as in essence an evangelical church based on the sermon and the administration of the sacraments of baptism and communion mentioned in articles 7, 9, and 10 of the Augsburg Confession.713 It was a belated official acknowledgement of the historical division between six eastern Lutheran and two western Reformed provinces within the overall framework of the official Union, for which some future constitutional balance had to be sought. Identity became a problem for the Reformed church too. Rhine-Westphalian provincial synods tried to end the mix of consistory and synod established in 1835, but a worried king kept things more or less as they were in a revised constitution of 13 June 1853, and both provincial synods agreed with royal approval (25

712

Mühler: ‘In einzelnen Fällen behandelte er delicate Dinge mit plumper Faust und erlitt tragikomische Blamagen’, Grenzboten, no. 8, 16 Feb. 1872, cited ‘Mühler, Heinrich von’, ADB, 474. Falk (1827–1900) was the enlightened reformer of Prussia's primary schools and improver of schoolteachers' pay (1872); on his death, Hamm's citizenry erected a monument in gratitude.

713

Huber and Huber, ii. no. 135.

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

489

November 1855) that Lutherans and Reformed were united in an administrative sense only, and not by confession. Confession secured a religious identity which had grown with time since the Reformation, though both acknowledged a common pulpit and Eucharist. The 1850 constitution's provision of religious liberty (§ 12: no obligation to an established church, recognition of religious association) and the 1850 senior consistory therefore constantly faced this Lutheran hinterland; also in the assurance (§ 14) that the ‘Roman Catholic church’ and Protestant church governed themselves, because Protestants still possessed no church government organs. The ‘Christian state’, throne and altar, was also reaffirmed as Stahl wished (§ 14), as it was in three regulations governing Prussian primary schooling (1–3 October 1854) issued by Anton Stiehl (1812–78), director of Prussian elementary education (1850–72).714 These upheld clergy supervision as a means to enforce obedience to church and state, and the Reformation religious articles including Luther's Little Catechism, and the Reformed Heidelberg Catechism. Allegiance to king and country was primary. If the Protestant church did become independent, did clergy as civil servants (Staatsbeamte, § 108), like professors of theology, schoolteachers, military chaplains, hospital and prison chaplains, have to take an oath to the Prussian constitution? Rudolf von Uechtritz (1803–63), the new director of the 1849 department, thought times had changed: that an oath to the constitution by clergy as ‘servants of the state’ was obsolete. A long, involved struggle of words followed; notably by Prussian Catholic bishops and clergy who wanted a rider safeguarding the rights of the Catholic church.715 This was mocked by Kulturkampf legislation two decades later. It took over a quarter of a century amidst much heated public debate in countless numbers of constitutional pamphlets and books written by supporters of the Union, Reformed, and Lutheran churches, to work out a suitable parish order for the six eastern Lutheran provinces and a commensurable synodal order for the Protestant church in Prussia which balanced Union, Lutheran, and Reformed, and favoured parishioners rather than theologians. Its implementation was unfortunately masked by the Kulturkampf. Prussia's Vestry Board and Synodal Order (1873) extended the

714

Ibid. nos. 11, 150–3.

715

Ibid. nos. 136–41. See ibid. also for the following constitutional arrangements.

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PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Rhine-Westphalian synodal model enhanced by the strong presence of the parish clergyman in parish government to the six eastern Lutheran provinces. This was accepted as a state law on 25 May 1874; the same day a general synod was called which discussed extensively a draft synodal order (by Herrmann) until enactment on 30 January 1876. Prussia's Generalsynodal-Ordnung contained the three basic constitutional elements of Prussian church government until 1918: self-government by presbytery and synod, administration by consistory, and the continuance of the king as supreme bishop. It was an assembly of 150 members chosen by provincial synods: Province of Prussia, twenty-four; Brandenburg, twenty-seven; Pomerania, eighteen; Posen, nine; Silesia, twenty-one; Prussian Saxony, twenty-four; Westphalia, twelve; Rhineland, fifteen; six from the Protestant theological faculties of Königsberg, Berlin, Greifswald, Breslau, Halle, and Bonn; Prussia's chief superintendents; and thirty members appointed by the king for a six-year period. A city synod for Berlin was foreseen (§ 4) which obtained official recognition on 17–18 May 1895. Like those of Oldenburg and Baden, the document establishing this General Synod spoke of the need to promote Protestant German national unity (§ 19). Approved as a state law on 3 June 1876, it became Prussia's ‘Die evangelische Kirchenverfassung in den acht älteren Provinzen der Monarchie’. Prussia's Protestant Church Constitution was an important step forward at parish level. It reflected for the first time a modern state's need to supervise the anomalous historic parish and economic structure of the Reformation Church which had been pointed out by the Code and senior Prussian clergy to no avail three-quarters of a century earlier: these listed in order, building and maintenance, collection of church dues, state direction of registration (parish registers), and new parishes (§ 23); the purchase and sale of church property, sale of objects which had historical or artistic value, loans, new fees and changes of fees, new buildings, the siting of graveyards and their use once they became redundant, church collections outside the parish church, and use of church property for other than official purposes (§ 24). There was a very real concern, given poor Prussian experience, about the proper administration of church property: that parishioners and parishes managed their affairs in an orderly fashion. The state and consistories therefore retained a right to look into parish accounts and use law enforcement if illegalities

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

491

appeared (Zwangssistierung, § 27). All of this was clarified further in two decrees (9 September 1876, and 5 September 1877) which defined administrative competence between the state and its senior consistory. But this development was not peculiarly Prussian. Other larger states faced the same problem of governing the anomaly associated with historic churches, and they legislated in much the same way at much the same time. Saxony, similar to Erastian Prussia until the period of unification in government by Dresden's Minister in Evangelicis, a Landeskonsistorium whose president and members were appointed by the Catholic king with this minister's countersignature, and jurists—Kings Frederick August II (1797–1854) and Johann (1801–73) also played an active role—changed, like Prussia, towards synodal self-government for the first time in 1868 when a Vestry Board and Synodal Order was enacted on 30 March. This enhanced, like Prussia's similar order, the authority of the parish clergyman in parish affairs, and provided for a general synod every five years. It was refined thereafter by Saxony's Minister for Church Affairs (1871–91), the canonist, Karl Friedrich von Gerber (1823–91). He legislated for a much broader degree of Lutheran self-government by Dresden's Landeskonsistorium (the district subconsistories of Dresden, Leipzig, and Zwickau were abolished) in Saxony's Church Law (15–16 April 1873) in constitutional and liturgical matters, schooling, and clergy training (§ 5.1–8) than 1835 had ever acknowledged. Saxony's new Church Law reflected too the Saxon state's great concern about the orderly government and economic management of historic parishes; especially at a time of rapid Saxon economic advance and urbanization. Dresden's senior consistory became authoritative in the management of benefices and parishes (§ 5.19); supervised church land, foundations, and capital (§ 5.21); threatened legal sanctions if improprieties occurred in the administration of church property (§ 5.22); managed finer parish detail as the use of graveyards (§ 5.23) and endowments for religious purposes like support of clergy and church servants and their families (§ 5.24); also, in a parish world where patronal anomaly still prevailed, it ensured that the parish church did not suffer from collisions between the interests of the parish congregation, the municipality, the parish council, and the patron (§ 5.26). The degree of a Protestant church's independence, and legislation

492

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

for better parish government and economic management of historic churches became a major issue and source of much public strife even for the modern southern German states associated with constitutional progress such as Baden, Württemberg, and Bavaria. Baden, in the context of her advanced Protestant Church Constitution (1821), and a continuous struggle with her revived Catholic church after 1850, anticipated, a decade later in 1860 with modern, inert, state legislation which produced bitter religious strife, what Prussia experienced in the 1870s. A series of five state laws agreed with her liberal parliament (9 October 1860), the Erastian offspring of an extremely touchy religious climate—a Concordat concluded in 1859 was opposed by a liberal parliament on 30 March 1860, and revoked by the grand duke on 7 April—provided a new ecclesiastical framework for the Badenese Protestant and Catholic churches as ‘public corporations in law’ (§ 1). The principle of self-governing Protestant and Catholic churches, but joint church and state administration of church property was provided for (§ § 7, 10). A civil register office in ‘exceptional circumstances’ predated Badenese obligatory civil marriage enacted on 21 December 1869. With Frankfurt's similar arrangement of 19 November 1850, this established a precedent for the 1875 German register office. Two further laws tried in a mixed denominational environment to establish orderly procedures for a religious upbringing of children, and imposed imprisonment and fines on clergy who misused their office to publicly criticize the state, its authorities, and legislation (addition to Baden's 1849 Criminal Law, § 686a—g). The latter law established a very important legal precedent in German church–state relations. It was a recognition that in a new environment of church disestablishment, the state might need a means of controlling clergy who used their public office for ‘political’ purposes. This predated the so-called ‘pulpit paragraph’ amendments added to the imperial criminal code (§ 130a) in 1871 and 1876, which were abolished for the first time in 1953.716 State education was foreseen too (§ 6 of the framework law), which led to a subsequently very contentious state Primary School

716

My father (1911–71), a pastor in the Confessing church, was imprisoned in June 1937 by the Gestapo for preaching two sermons on 14 February and Whitsun 1937, which contained, amongst other offences, ‘gehässige oder hetzerische Äusserungen über leitende Persönlichkeiten des Staates und der NSDAP . . . die geeignet sind, das Vertrauen des Volkes zur politischen Führung zu untergraben’ (§ 130a, etc.), Haftbefehl: Der Prädikant der Theologie Constantin Hopf, Schneidemühl, 15 June 1937 (Hopf–Haeberlin papers).

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

493

Law (8 March 1868). Also divisive was the introduction of a Kulturexamen on 6 September 1867 for Protestant and Catholic ordinands. This obliged them to sit an examination in Latin, Greek, German literature, German history, and civil and canon law before a state examination board. Baden's Protestant church received a new constitution (5 September 1861) under the grand duke as supreme bishop. It abolished Baden's 1821 Protestant church constitution, and followed the presbytery and synodal framework of the Rhine-Westphalian church order (1835) and Oldenburg's church constitution (1853). A senior consistory resident at Karlsruhe governed Baden's Protestant church, but given the weight of liberal legal opinion, the presence of the constitutional state was possibly more of a presence than elsewhere; for example, in the ruling harking back to the Prussian Code, that a clergyman should set a Christian example in his parish (einem musterhaften christlichen Lebenswandel, § 91). There was a liberal sense too of a medium-sized Protestant state's duty to promote the larger ‘organic’ Protestant whole in the Church Days (§ 2), and close co-operation between senior consistory and state on church finance, especially property (edict, 28 February 1862), which followed similar arrangements for the Catholic church (20 November 1861). This legislation, with the addition of a law introducing church tax (26 July 1888)—Protestant and Catholic churches were after all corporations in public law after 1860—remained in place until 1919.717 Württemberg followed a more placid path towards Lutheran self-government under King Charles (1823–91) after 1864. This built on some piecemeal synodal measures enacted in the 1850s including a vestry board (25 January 1851) provision of deanery synods. A royal decree (20 December 1867) eventually proposed a general synod (Landessynode) promising wide legislative powers to a convocation of fifty elected clergy and laity divided equally (§ 2.1), and a further decree issued the same day defined in the interests of throne and altar the rights of Stuttgart's Ministry for Church and School Affairs. But it took three general synods (1869, 1875, 1878) to eventually produce a draft vestry board and synodal order, only to be turned down by a suspicious Lower House of parliament who feared the challenge of Protestantism in a land known for its Pietism. Theodor von

717

Church tax in Württemberg (1887, see above), and Baden (1888), Huber and Huber, ii. nos. 470, 473; Giese, Deutsches Kirchensteuerrecht, 122, 163 passim.

494

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Geβler (1824–86), Minister for Church Affairs (1870–85), had to let matters fall amidst much recrimination in 1884. His successor (1885–1900), Otto von Sarwey (1825–1900), eventually compromised by building on the legislation of the 1850s to introduce a state law regulating parish government and parish property (14 June 1887). This finally separated the civil and church parish, and abolished Württemberg's old Kirchengut in favour of parish councils as the administrators of church property and finance. Since parish councils were now recognized corporations in public law, their right to collect church tax was granted (§ 65). This provided the logical final step in the establishment of a general synod (Landessynodalordnung, 11 September 1888). In Catholic Bavaria, Lutherans gained a general synod eventually at the same time as Württemberg, after much hard bargaining with Catholic kings and ministers who fought with their Catholic church in much the same way as their counterparts in Baden and Prussia. Under Harleβ, president of Munich's Lutheran senior consistory (1852–79), Franconian Lutherans struggled hard to achieve independent government of the kind which governed the palatinate Union church seated at Speyer after 4 June 1849, and self-governing Franconian Reformed parishes (by a Moderamen, 26 February 1853), and legislation refining representation on diocesan and general synods palatinate (17 June 1876). Lutheran Ansbach and Bayreuth tried to expand self-governing elements gained before 1848 in proposals of 1873 and 1877, but Munich's senior consistory under Harleβ's successors, Johann Matthias Meyer (1814–82) after 1879, and Adolf von Stählin (1823–97) after 1883, prevaricated: both consistories in practice co-operated in church business after 1849. A compromise was reached with a Generalsynodalausschuβ (25 June 1887). Elsewhere, providence, in the form of Prussian annexations following victory in the civil war of 1866, delivered local churches into Prussia's developing Protestant self-governing framework of churches. The Lutheran colouring of several of these lands—Hanover in particular, but also Frankfurt, the northern part of Electoral Hesse, and parts of Nassau—in turn speeded up the implementation of a new Prussian constitutional framework for Lutheran, Reformed, and the official Union church.718 Lutheran Hanover was well along the road to self-government

718

Besier, Preuβische Kirchenpolitik, 340–424.

CHURCH AND (NATION-)STATE

495

by 1866. Her more plural denominational complexion as a new kingdom after 1815, a vexing constitutional debate with stubborn kings, and a strong Neo-Lutheran revival—in particular a row with Neo-Lutheran clergy over what authorized Hanoverian catechism to use—pushed the Hanoverian Minister for Church Affairs, Karl Lichtenberg (1816–83), to call a preparatory synod (6 October 1863) which eventually produced a vestry board and synodal order consisting of district synods and provision for a future general synod, which was signed by the king after revision by parliament on 9 October 1864. George V (1819–78) established a self-governing Landeskonsistorium at Hanover on 17 April 1866, some six months before annexation on 10 September. There matters rested; the Prussian king became summus episcopus and the Prussian Minister for Church Affairs replaced his Hanoverian counterpart on 8 December 1868. The Hanoverian general synod finally met on 3 November 1869; its first president, Gerhard Uhlhorn (1826–1901)—after 1878 abbot of Loccum, and a pioneer of the history of charity in Protestant Germany—defended Hanover's self-governing Lutheran Landeskirche staunchly thereafter against both Prussia and Neo-Lutherans. In Schleswig-Holstein, Berlin thought it obviously prudent, given so much strife about established church identities, to recognize the province's Lutheran church, and its consistory at Kiel as an independent organ, on 24 September 1867. This was prefaced by a law which ended the historic spiritual jurisdiction of consistories still operative in most parts of Holstein. On 16 August 1869, a parish vestry order completed this change; it was revised in the Prussian sense as a vestry board and synodal order on 4 November 1876. This legislation meant that Berlin really established a Landeskirche for Schleswig-Holstein with a common church order for the first time. The first president of Kiel's consistory (1868–91) was the judge, Friedrich Mommsen (1818–92). The new Prussian province of Hessen-Nassau (including the former electorate of Hesse, duchy of Nassau, and Free City of Frankfurt) gained a general consistory (22 September 1867) at Wiesbaden. But church politics became bitter as an overworked von Mühler found to his cost in two former states and a free city with extremely complex religious structures and a strong sense of local history. Frankfurt's Reformed congregation almost took up arms over the proposed Wiesbaden common consistory in 1868;

496

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Frankfurt's consistorial government was allowed to continue. In Nassau, a parish vestry and synodal order was enacted in 1869 and expanded, like Schleswig-Holstein's, in 1877. Trouble erupted in northern Hesse, owing to the weight of a vocal Neo-Lutheran church party loyal to the deposed elector under August Vilmar, whose brother, Wilhelm (1804–84), became the leader of a new Hessian Lutheran free church, similar in this sense to Silesian Old Lutherans, called the Renitenz after his unfrocking by Prussian authorities in 1869. Dissent continued with much anti-Prussian publicity, often in collusion with like-minded Neo-Lutheran loyalist Guelph circles in Hanover, and with some imprisonments until 1918.719 In a broader sense though, these annexed states really shared (after extension on 3 June 1876) in the new framework of the Prussian Protestant church established in September 1873, and in January and June 1876. The Hanoverian Lutheran church benefited from the June 1876 constitutional arrangements concerning the proper administration of parish finance and church property (a law of 6 May 1885 incorporated §§ 23, 24, 27; see above). Also Hanover's Reformed congregations which had not seen self-governing legislation before 1866 (Ostfriesland, Bentheim, Lingen, Papenburg, Bremen, Plesse) gained a Vestry Board and Synodal Order on 12 April 1882. The same self-governing process happened in Schleswig-Holstein in 1876 (see above; Lauenburg, a tricky constitutional territory gained by Prussia in 1864, became a superintendency in 1877), and in Nassau on 4 July 1877. In the troublesome former electorate of Hesse, the Marburg, Kassel, and Hanau consistorial areas covering Reformed, Lutheran, and Union churches—united on 13 June 1868 and governed by Kassel after 24 April 1873—gained a common Vestry Board and Synodal Order on 16 December 1885. With this development in mind, one may speak about a more modern Protestant form of constitutional and financial government by consistory, presbytery, and synod of German Reformation churches and parishes (excepting both Mecklenburgs, Saxony-Coburg-Gotha, and Schaumburg-Lippe) united in 1871 as thirty-nine Landeskirchen in twentysix states, as coming into effect in the last decade of the nineteenth century for the first time.720

719

K. Wicke, Die hessische Renitenz, ihre Geschichte und ihr Sinn (Kassel, 1930).

720

Listed conveniently by Huber, Verfassungsgeschichte, iv. 841–2; Rieker, Die rechtliche Stellung, 461–4.

19 Numbers of Clergy and the Pastoral Care I. Protestant German Religious Statistics A new Protestant forum resident at Eisenach coupled with the first Protestant church constitutions enabled statisticians to realize, in the period of German unification, Wiggers's call in 1842 for a Protestant German statistical account. This was an aspect too of a renewed interest in a modern ‘practical theology’ which informed clergy and parishioners about the physiognomy of their local churches (Ch. 20). On a prompting by Grüneisen and an Eisenach committee, a Stuttgart statistician began to pool information from a questionnaire sent out to local church authorities on 16 March 1860. Zeller also used as a model church statistics published by the Lutheran Ansbach and Bayreuth general synods in the Neue Münchener Zeitung (no. 311, 31 December 1857).721 Zeller's survey of the year 1862, published in 1865, using the Zollverein census of 3 December 1861 as a basis, was the first comprehensive and fairly reliable account of Protestant Germany and Protestant Austria (22,573,558). Zeller, like his fellow Protestant statisticians who published after 1871, still preferred to use the term evangelisch to mean Lutheran, Reformed, and Union (Uniert) established churches. All other Protestant denominations—Moravians, Mennonites, Baptists, Methodists, Quakers, even Anglicans—were classified as ‘Other Christians’. The 1862 ‘Protestant’ survey, like its successors, thus gave only a very rough idea of Protestant denominational physiognomy and distribution.722

721

Namely, Population, legitimate and illegitimate births, deaths, suicides, stillborn children, marriages, mixed marriages, changes of faith (Confessionswechsel ), immigration and emigration, communicants, offerings, collections and benefactions for Bible and Mission societies and the Gustavus Adolphus Foundation, etc., Zeller, Zur kirchlichen Statistik, 1 passim.

722

Pieper, Kirchliche Statistik Deutschlands ; 91–8.

498

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Most returns giving a grand Protestant total (10,321,893 including Austria: 201,082 Lutherans, and 107,369 Reformed) showed a Lutheran colouring (9,177,708) in contrast to Reformed (611,233), and Union (532,952) churches supplied by a handful of Landeskirchen. This was deceptive to say the least, since Zeller's survey gave simply a larger ‘Protestant’ population (12,251,665) in other states mixing Lutheran, Reformed, and Union churches such as Prussia (11,026,608), the Bavarian Palatinate (328,903), Baden (443,187), Oldenburg (226,121), Anhalt-Dessau, (121,681), and Lippe (105,175). But one can make a fair guesstimate that this Lutheran colouring was modified considerably by the presence of Reformed and Union churches in the largest state, Prussia, in her fellow ‘Protestant’ states listed above, and the handful of states which listed Reformed and Union in Table 19.1. Zeller admitted openly to many inconsistencies which could mislead. It took time in a new Protestant constitutional framework to get used to new procedures. Many Landeskirchen failed to provide answers to all of the questions asked. Bremen (mostly Reformed), and Hamburg (mostly Lutheran), also Lutheran Saxony-Gotha, found it all too complex and sent in no returns at all. Frankfurt in its return left out its Reformed citizenry. It became possible to count the number of churches in Prussia's Landeskirche only in 1858, and no registration of Prussian parishes was done in 1861/2 (first in 1874). A statistical code of practice took time to mature. Statisticians agreed to record the numerical strength of religious denominations in state censuses for the first time at the Eighth International Statistical Congress held at St Petersburg in 1872. In Germany, greater accuracy appeared with the Prussian Statistical Office established in the same year, and with the national Register Office (1875). Berlin's senior consistory published more accurate figures after the constitutional organization of the eight provinces of the Old Prussian Landeskirche (1876); the same happened after the establishment of similar church constitutions in Saxony, the grand duchy of Hesse, Baden, Württemberg, and Bavaria. Regular periodical statistics, annual and every ten years, giving a much better picture, began in Eisenach's Das Allgemeine Kirchenblatt and in its statistical reports published separately at Stuttgart since 1880.723 On the other hand, the Reformed continued to receive short measure.

723

Ibid. 6 passim; Deutsche Verwaltungsgeschichte, iii. 176.

499

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

Table 19.1 Protestant Population in German States in 1862 Lutheran Bavaria Rhine, east bank Kingdom of Saxony Hanover Württemberg Electorate of Hesse Grand Duchy of Hesse Holstein Lauenburg Brunswick Mecklenburg-Schwerin Nassau Saxony-Weimar Saxony-Coburg Saxony-Meiningen Saxony-Altenburg Mecklenburg-Strelitz Anhalt-Bernburg Schwarzburg-Sondershausen Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt Waldeck Reuss senior line Reuss junior line Schaumburg-Lippe Hessen-Homburg Lübeck Frankfurt*

952,695 2,170,036 1,539,826 1,178,348 131,253 392,326 546,023 50,655 279,388 535,997

Union

109,310 175,477

Reformed 2,269 1,112 90,792 153 374,125 30,038 463 1,550 201

236,728 262,295 46,382 168,379 140,286 98,266 57,443 63,179 73,591 56,642 39,833 75,830 30,126 6,571 37,137 44,119

11,437

2,058 410

* Reformed not counted. Source: Zeller, 4.

Even at the turn of the century, state offices and the press in Catholic Bavaria still stamped the Reformed faith as a special religion under the rubric ‘Protestant’.724 Protestant returns and statistics therefore remained unreliable before 1900. Further north-east, in Livonia and Estonia (also Courland), Zeller's 1862 survey was complemented by one published in the same year by St Petersburg's Lutheran senior consistory. It listed in

724

Pieper, 154–5.

500

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Livonia 107 parishes and 122 parish clergy serving 624,672 parishioners. An average parish included 5,838 parishioners. But average parish size was complicated by huge variations between the largest, Marienburg-Seltinghof (14,931), and the smallest, St Peters-Kapelle (788). Estonia contained forty-five parishes, and forty-eight clergy (including two permanent curates, Pfarr-vikare) who served 276,749 parishioners. An average parish contained 6,318 parishioners. Again there was much variation between the largest, Rappel (10,828), and the smallest, Reval's entirely German baronial cathedral parish (1,530). In both church provinces, most parishes were Estonian and Latvian containing a mere sprinkling of Germans, and in Estonia, one or two northern coastal parishes with Swedish parishioners.725 The Livonian and Estonian clergyman/parishioner (also Courland) was many times larger than anywhere in town and country in the new German nation-state with the exception of Berlin. The two years 1862 and 1891, where returns were more or less complete, showed interesting contrasts in pastoral provision between Prussia and other German Landeskirchen (see Table 19.2). In Prussia in 1862, clergy posts totalled 6,394, giving a parish clergyman/parishioner ratio of 1:1,724 in a parish averaging 43 square kilometres. In 1891, statistics recorded a rise to 6,799 clergy (1:2,193 parishioners), and a drop in average parish size (40.5 sq. km.).726 But these averages in an extensive provincial archipelago masked great variation, and poor pastoral provision in Berlin and northern and western provinces where distances in parishes were also long. Zeller warned readers that average parish size in other German Landeskirchen in 1862 masked huge variations between hundreds and thousands of parishioners.727 But, in round figures, there were only three where an average parish served by one or more clergy contained more than 3,000 parishioners: Holstein (3,821), and the Hansa ports of Hamburg (3,151) and Lübeck (3,129). Landeskirchen with parishes averaging over 2,000 were the Kingdom of Saxony (2,347), Lippe (2,337), and Oldenburg (2,074). Most parishes consisted of between 1,000 and 2,000: Lauenburg

725

Busch, Materialen, i. 492, 599; namely, Torma and Lohusu (57 Germans, 9,792 Estonians); Oberpahlen (339 Germans, 8,825 Estonians); Worms or St Olaf (Danish, 13th c. ), island of Worms (34 Germans, 1,776 Swedes); Nuckoe or St Catherine (Swedish, 13th c.) (22 Germans, 867 Estonians, 2,407 Swedes), ibid. 554, 578, 642–3.

726

Pieper, 150–1.

727

Zeller, 5.

501

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

Table 19.2 Old Prussia Province by Province 1862 Places of Clergy posts/mili- worship tary chaplains East Prus- 472 450 sia West Prus- 202 309 sia Berlin 90 60 Branden- 1,236 2,323 burg Pomerania 768 1,403 Posen 200 309 Silesia 833 881 Saxony 1,659 2,596 Westphalia 396 427 Rhine537 632 land* * Includes Hohenzollern Source: Pieper, 150–1, 158–9.

1891 Places of Parishion- Av. size of Clergy ers parish (sq. posts/mili- worship tary chapkm.) lains 3,038 78.4 475 609

3,528

77.9

2,694

Parishion- Av. size of ers parish (sq. km.)

126.6

246

551

2,769

103.8

5,443 1,887

32.2

130 1,413

123 2,605

10,404 2,678

31.0

1,739 2,408 1,951 1,087 1,752 1,434

39.2 144.8 48.1 15.2 51.03 52.4

772 235 865 1,688 461 644

1,498 471 1,185 2,702 696 904

1,912 2,309 2,221 1,412 2,501 2,016

39.0 123.3 46.5 14.9 43.8 41.9

502

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

(1,746), Reuss senior line (1,732), Mecklenburg-Schwerin (1,702), Schaumburg-Lippe (1,622), Mecklenburg-Strelitz (1,585), Hanover (1,479), Bavarian Rhine Palatinate (1,449), Anhalt-Bernburg (1,401), grand duchy of Hesse (1,370), Electoral Hesse (1,348), Anhalt-Dessau (1,308), Württemberg (1,296), Baden (1,248), Reuss junior line (1,223), Saxony-Coburg (1,220), Brunswick (1,216), Nassau (1,207), Saxony-Altenburg (1,159), Bavaria Rhine east bank (1,143) (kingdom of Bavaria as such 1,209), Saxony-Meiningen (1,129), Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1,115), Hessen-Homburg (1,114), and Waldeck (1,049). Two Landeskirchen only remained below 1,000. These were Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (943), and Saxony-Weimar (868). The ratio between the senior clergyman (incumbent, Hauptgeistlicher) and parishioners played a slight variation on this theme.728 There were six Landeskirchen below 1,000, mainly in the intimate world of the little Thuringian states: SaxonyWeimar (843), Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (854), Saxony-Coburg (947), Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (968), SaxonyAltenburg (988)—also Waldeck (977). Most in ascending order produced a ratio of one clergyman to between 1,000 and 2,000: Saxony-Meningen (1,008), Bavaria Rhine, east bank (1,041), Hessen-Homburg (1,056), kingdom of Bavaria (1,102), Prussian Saxony (1,103), Nassau (1,133), Brunswick (1,180), Württemberg (1,183), Anhalt-Bernburg (1,195), Baden (1,204), Anhalt-Dessau (1,205), grand duchy of Hesse (1,261), Electoral Hesse (1,308), Bavarian Palatinate (1,326), Hanover (1,400), Reuss junior (1,404), Mecklenburg-Strelitz (1,445), Prussian Rhineland (1,459), Schaumburg-Lippe (1,468), MecklenburgSchwerin (1,572), Lauenburg (1,634), Reuss senior line (1,660), Lübeck (1,707), kingdom of Prussia (1,780), Prussian Pomerania (1,797), Prussian Westphalia (1,823), Brandenburg (1,836), Oldenburg (1,853), and Saxony (1,981). Ratios of one to between 2,000 and 3,000 occurred in Frankfurt (2,206), Lippe (2,451), and Holstein (2,788), and within Prussia, in Silesia (2,019), Posen (2,589), Province of Prussia—until 1878–(3,104). In other words, the 1862 survey showed that large parishes with a poor incumbent/parishioner ratio remained a traditional Prussian

728

Zeller, 6.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

503

feature, particularly in Berlin and in rural provinces dominated by large estates (Gutsherrschaften), and a latent feature in nascent urban-industrial provinces, excepting Prussian-Saxony. The same was true of the Hansa cities of Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck, and the northern province of Holstein which contained large estates similar to those in the Province of Prussia. The 1862 survey was also premature. It could not record the rapid growth of urban-industrial parishes in the following decade—notably in Berlin, Dresden, and Leipzig. This would dramatically alter provision of urban pastoral care (ch. 20). Even the first fairly reliable statistical commentary (1899) by the clergyman, Pieper, published five years before the first Catholic survey (1904) by the priest, Krose, interpreted population growth and urbanization only in general terms as fundamental forces disrupting historic pastoral provision. Pieper noted a quite different German Protestant parish map compared with that of eighty years previously where the German population in terms of Germany's 1871 boundaries was not half as large. Between 1871 and 1900 the German population had increased by 11.2 million: in other words in twenty-five years, by as many people as Prussia's population in 1820. The only comparable period in recent history for such rapid demographic change, Pieper emphasized, was the Thirty Years' War: also the largest demographic change after 1871 took place in Lutheran Saxony; ironically the German state whose population had been decimated by the Thirty Years' War.729 Minority denominations seemed to grow more rapidly after 1871 than did the majority persuasion, with the exceptions of Württemberg and Bavaria where since 1840 the ratio of Lutherans to Reformed remained about the same. In Prussia after unification—statistically annexation looked like a significant Lutheran increase—there was in fact a very large rise in her Catholic population compared with an inverse ratio in the period 1816–64. Catholic increase took place on the whole in peripheral areas contiguous to Prussia's Catholic neighbour Poland: in the Province of Prussia (also as separate western and eastern provinces again after 1878), Posen, and Silesian Oppeln. Growth was especially strong in the two decades 1861–1881, and again in the

729

Pieper, 13–15.

504

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

years 1890–5. The same was true to a lesser extent in the Rhineland and Westphalia. Crucial was the liberalizing economic and employment legislation of the decade 1860–70: notably the lifting of restrictions on the labour market (Freizügigkeitsgesetz, 1 November 1867).730 Catholic Poles thus flocked to Prussia's eastern provinces to find work. But Protestant emigration, the pioneering spirit, was responsible too for changing ratios of Protestants and Catholics. In the period 1871–97 some 2,200,000 Germans, an annual average of c.84,000, emigrated overseas. Emigrants were—if one excepted Württemberg, the Protestant state with the highest emigration flows in the nineteenth century—usually reasonably situated Protestants from the northern German provinces, and poor countryfolk from poor rural provinces such as the Mecklenburgs, and Prussian provinces such as Pomerania, West Prussia, and Posen. ‘Town’ and ‘country’ parishes became in this increasingly mobile world a new Protestant problem of pastoral care as a result of the civil legislation in 1875 which defined a town as containing 2,000 or more inhabitants. Internal migration to find work in centres of industry and commerce meant that small congregations would have to be combined in order to utilize pastoral provision more effectively; also because rural and home town parish clergy in a parishscape dotted with chapels of ease often held more services than did their colleagues in middling and large cities.731 But Pieper warned readers not to assume automatically a one-way drift to towns. In the period 1875–90 the new urban-industrial Westphalian and Rhenish provinces showed a decrease in populations in towns of over 2,000 (53.3% to 45.7% and 60.3% to 48.8% respectively) and a rising population in communities of less than 2,000 (46.7% to 54.3% and 39.7% to 51.2% respectively).732 Pieper remained content to interpret the year 1891—in a new nation-state provided with some 16,400 clergy posts (defined by the Eisenach Conference as including a subsidiary appointment, institutional and military chaplaincies)—as showing, in general terms only, that a historic Reformation parish order was beginning to face a modern urban and rural parish problem of adequate pastoral care. He played down the ‘phantom’ of the secular city, conjured up by ‘those who judged solely in religious and moral terms’, consisting of the

730

Pieper, 32 passim.

730

Pieper, 32 passim.

731

Ibid. 108, 144, 160; Krabbe, Die deutsche Stadt, 28.

732

Pieper, 109.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

505

rise (1867–95) of eighteen large Prussian cities, and of nine others situated mostly in Protestant central and northern Germany, containing 5,135,000 Protestants amongst some 11 million inhabitants.733 Pieper listed in the Old Prussian Church in 1890, 6,844 clergy overall, serving some 15 million Protestants; in Prussia's new provinces 2,500 clergy serving about 4.3 million. Elsewhere, 1,280 clergy in the kingdom of Saxony served 3.3 million, in Württemberg c.1,100 clergy about 1.4 million, and in Bavaria 1,260 clergy about 1.5 million. The 1870s were a decade of stagnation for new clergy posts; things improved first in the two decades 1880–1900. In the Old Prussian church, new curacies (Vikarien) and positions for assistant clergy (Hilfsgeistlichen) were only half as large (206), in the 65year period 1815–80 as those (416) created in the 16-year period 1881–97.734 In the 30-year period 1862–91, the parish clergyman/parishioner ratio had risen to a national average of 1:1,887.735 Poorest in pastoral provision by far were industrial Berlin (10,404) and Hamburg (8,166); they were followed by Bremen (4,146) and Lübeck (3,388). Oldenburg (2,076), including the former Lübeck prince-bishopric (2,458) and Birkenfeld (1,905), was also poor. Figures for large Saxon city parishes were not recorded. Between 3,000 and the national average came Saxony (2,605), Reuss senior line (2,566), Lippe (2,323), Prussia (2,058) (Prussian SchleswigHolstein 2,282), and Reuss junior line (2,036). Below the national average were Schaumburg-Lippe (1,817), Prussian Frankfurt-Wiesbaden (1,671), Saxony-Anhalt (1,653), Prussian Hanover (1,598), Mecklenburg-Schwerin (1,551), Baden (1,516), Brunswick (1,493), Palatinate (1,409), grand duchy of Hesse (1,402), Mecklenburg-Strelitz (1,344), Saxony-Meiningen (1,337), Prussian Kassel (1,330), Württemberg (1,284), Saxony-Coburg (1,219), Saxony-Rudolstadt (1,202), Bavaria east of Rhine (1,194), Saxony-Altenburg (1,162), Saxony-Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (1,081), Alsace-Lorraine (1,060), Saxony-Gotha (1,052), Saxony-Weimar

733

‘Ein Schreckgespenst des nach religiös-sittlichen Gesichtspunkten urtheilenden Beobachters unserer Zeit’, ibid. 112. Pieper counted as large towns (he disregarded the largetown norm of 100,000 fixed in 1887), Prussian Berlin, Charlottenburg, Breslau, Cologne, Magdeburg, Düsseldorf, Königsberg, Stettin, Elberfeld, Strasburg, Barmen, Danzig, Halle, Dortmund, Aachen, Crefeld, Frankfurt am Main, and Hanover; and elsewhere, Hamburg, Altona, Bremen, Brunswick, Munich, Leipzig, Dresden, Chemnitz, and Nuremberg, ibid 111–12.

734

Ibid. 146–8.

735

Ibid. 150–1, 154.

506

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

(1,012). Even the smallest Landeskirche, Waldeck (995), remained only just below 1,000. Another way in which 1891 expressed pastoral provision was by parish size.736 Pieper showed in comparative tables a contrast between Old Prussia (using 1874 figures; West Prussia provided none) and the rest of Germany. Old Prussia contained 5,365 parishes in 1874; in 1891 5,582 (average size dropped from 51.3 to 49.3 sq. kms.). With the inclusion of the annexed states, Prussia contained 7,746 parishes. In provincial terms, parishes in 1891 remained very large in the north-east: East Prussia 94.8, West Prussia 125.1, and Posen 150.9 sq. kms. However, parishes were also large in her western provinces: Reformed Westphalia 59, and the Rhineland 59.7 sq. kms. and in some districts far above these figures: Münster 188.5, Trier 110.5, Aachen 147.7, and Hohenzollern 228.45 sq. kms. These distances resembled Livonian and Estonian parish size. The rest of Protestant Germany showed in 1891 a much better parish average of 39.7 sq. kms. with the exception of the Bavarian Rhine east bank 85.8, Alsace Lorraine 63.8, and Oldenburg 57.9 sq. kms. Seventeen amongst twentyseven Landeskirchen contained parishes under 25 sq. kms. Saxony (15.4 sq. kms.) remained a land of small densely populated parishes such as Prussian Saxony (17.06 sq. kms.) which included Magdeburg 20.5, Merseburg 14.8, and Erfurt 15.3 sq. kms. Pieper also gave more accurate figures for church provision. In 1897, some 17,000–18,000 Protestant clergy served 24,996 churches: that is, two clergy to roughly three churches, in a diverse parishscape full of anomalies: until the turn of the century the sparsely settled Koblenz district still contained many more churches than the heavily populated neighbouring industrial district of Düsseldorf.737 It was still impossible to give any figures for simultaneous usage. However, churches in use and their type became visible for the first time: in 1891 in Germany as a whole, 19,806 Protestant parish churches; in the kingdom of Prussia, 11,448. In Old Prussia in the period 1862–91 parish church provision increased from 8,283 to 8,605; in the annexed states: Hanover (1,195–225), Kassel (833–55), Wiesbaden (265–313), and Frankfurt stayed put (14).738 In the other German Landeskirchen the figures for parish churches

736

Pieper, 166–7.

737

Ibid. 160–1.

738

Ibid. 162–3.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

507

in use in the same period showed increases and decreases by amalgamation: Saxony (1,186–287), Württemberg (1,114–168), Bavaria Rhine east bank (1,057–79). Below a thousand were the grand duchy of Hesse (641–608), Saxony-Weimar (510–499), Mecklenburg-Schwerin (458–62), Baden (438–73), Alsace-Lorraine (period 1881–91: 349–67), Palatinate (357–9), Brunswick (335–332), Saxony-Meiningen (242–4), Saxony-Altenburg (223–220), SaxonyAnhalt (206–9), Coburg-Gotha (period 1881–91: 208–205), Mecklenburg-Strelitz (149–54), Saxony SchwarzburgRudolstadt (117–116), Oldenburg Landeskirche (119–23), Saxony Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (94–7), Reuss junior line (92–8), Waldeck (88–96), Lippe (43–4), Reuss senior line (29–31), Schaumburg Lippe (19–18), Lübeck stayed put (12), Bremen (period 1881–91: stayed put at 27), Hamburg (23–8). If one added chapels and oratories to the national total of parish churches in use in 1890–1, the latter constituted only a tenth or eleventh part (in Old Prussia also an eleventh part: c.780 out of c.8,600). The statistics for 1891 showed that churchgoing seemed to be worse in provinces where there could be long distances to the parish church: in the Prussian eastern large-parish districts of Posen, Oppeln, Stralsund, Marienwerder, Königsberg, Gumbinnen especially (181 sq. kms.), and western Aachen, Hohenzollern, and Münster where railway connections were still poor in 1899 in parishes averaging 75–115 sq. kms.739 Elsewhere distances were long in parts of Bavarian Franconia, and as a result of parlous church provision this was also true of Schleswig-Holstein, the three Hansa cities (Hamburg resembled Berlin in this), Hanover, the Frankfurt consistorial area, Saxon industrial cities, Oldenburg, both Reuss principalities, Lippe, and, in terms of size of parishes, Bavaria east of the Rhine. But serious attempts were made—notably after c.1880—to increase the number of places of worship, thereby lessening the distance to church. Pieper gave the following figures for new Prussian parish churches (1859–99): Rhineland including Hohenzollern 109, Posen 87, Silesia 70, Westphalia 63, Brandenburg and Berlin 59, West Prussia 51 and East Prussia 40—a further seven listed for both during 1881–5—Pomerania 41, and Prussian Saxony 27. Even Berlin

739

Ibid. 155, 158, 160.

508

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

had managed, against all the secular odds, to establish a successful Kirchenbau-Verein in May 1890.740 Modern statistics showed that a lack of parish churches was more quickly redressed than a lack of parish clergy. Pieper refuted the prophets of doom who spoke of there being no life within Protestant churches: within a generation, the statistics showed an ‘impressive’ increase of church provision by between a third and a half. What Pieper did not ask was the basic question whether building more parish churches and creating more clergy posts helped churchgoing in parishes where the values of new immigrants were increasingly determined by the modern division of labour and secular urban mores. Further north-east prospects of pastoral improvement were not rosy either. The chief cities, particularly Riga and Reval, had jumped in size: Riga, from a population of 102,590 in 1867 (168,728 in 1881), became in 1897 the seventh largest city in the Russian Empire, with 282,943 (47% German); and Reval in 1900 had a population of 66,292 (30% German). The Livonian population had risen to 1,260,653 in 1891; the Estonian to 404,709. The year 1904 recorded only a very modest Livonian increase to 154 parishes, 180 parish clergy, and 303 parish churches, and an Estonian increase to 57 parishes, 69 parish clergy, and 143 parish churches. The problems of outsize parishes in terms of distances to be covered—in Livonia still some 200 sq. kms.—and large numbers of ethnic parishioners who were beginning to find a voice were only starting to be addressed in a new nationalistic climate heated by an aggressive Russification and a spirited conservative German defence.741

II. Scandinavia Using a rough rule of thumb, Denmark and Norway showed high percentages (80% and 75% respectively) of senior parish clergy (incumbents) in the nineteenth century. This was a similar profile to German parish clergy in Livonia and Estonia. Sweden remained lowest, given her large number of assistant parish clergy and chaplains. But incumbents rose from 25 per cent in 1800 to 50 per cent in 1910.

740

Pieper, 156–7, 201–4.

740

Pieper, 156–7, 201–4.

741

Encyclopaedia Britannica (1911), 11th edn., s.v. Riga and Reval; Kahle, Begegnung des baltischen Protestantismus mit der russisch-orthodoxen Kirche, 4–5; RE (1906), 254, s.v. ‘Ruβland’; Garve, Konfession und Nationalität, 13, 135–8.

509

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

Table 19.3. Incumbents Denmark Norway Sweden Kyrkoherdar Komminstrar

1800 1,192 (1,381) 331 (432)

1810

1881

1,142 919 (2,061)

Finland

1900 1,095 (1,343*) 482 (640) 1,373 853 (2,226)

758†

Notes: Linders's totals for Sweden are 3,372 in 1810 and 2,787 in 1900. Mannsåker gives no figures for Finland. Figures in parentheses are totals. * Including Valgmenighed, see Ch. 18. † Serving 345 parishes, including two German parishes in Helsinki and Viborg (512 in 1906). Sources: Mannsåker, 42, 239; Linders, 77; for Finland, ‘Ruβland’, RE (1906), 260.

Table 19.4. Clergyman/parishioner Ratio 1800 1815 1820 1835 1840 1855 1860 1875 1880 1900

Norway 1,884 2,214 2,632 3,164 2,973 3,103

Denmark 775

Sweden 684

Finland 1,114

982 1,099

734

1,278

901

1,469

1,278

1,801

1,627 1,843

2,547 2,864

1,279 1,562 1,791

Source: Mannsåker, 76.

These figures spanned, as did German figures, the development of church constitutions and a very marked population increase. However, population increase in each of the four Scandinavian countries was absorbed mainly by the land, home towns, new towns situated on the new railway systems (after c.1870), and especially the capitals Copenhagen (400,575 in 1901), Stockholm (300,624 in 1900), Christiania (229,101 in 1901), and Helsinki (111,654 in 1904).

510

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Table 19.5. Clergy Per 100,000 Inhabitants 1800 1815 1820 1835 1840 1855 1860 1875 1880 1900

Norway 53 45 38 32 34 32

Denmark 129

Sweden 146

Finland 90

102 91

136

78

110

68

78

56

62 54

38 35

78 64 56

Source: Mannsåker, 76.

Quick increase in the capitals can be seen in Stockholm (93,070 in 1850, 176,875 in 1880) and notably Helsinki (22,228 in 1860, 61,530 in 1890).742 But in contrast to Germany, urbanization and industrialization in the fifty years 1850–1900 were not sisters. There was less of a contrast between town and country. Denmark, naturally in terms of geographic position, came nearest to the German experience. Population increase was swifter in Finland (noted for its high birth rate after 1800) than in Denmark and Norway after mid-century. Sweden came last. Finland's population rose from c.1 million in 1850 to 2,673,200 in the 1900 census (2,620,891 in the established church); Denmark from c.1.4 million in 1850 to 2,172,380 in 1890 (2,138,529 in the Folkekirke); Norway c.1.4 million in 1850 rose to 2,239,880 in 1900 (2,187,200 in the established church), and Sweden's population from c.3.5 million in 1850 to 5,221,291 in 1903 (99% nominally in the Church of Sweden still).743 In a relative sense, the ratio of parish clergy to parishioners was fairly good in Scandinavia until 1840. Sweden contained three times as many clergy (a number made up of a very large number of assistant parish clergy) to inhabitants; Denmark two and a half times as many;

742

Ency. Brit. (1910–11), 11th edn.

743

Anderson, Population Change, 23, 35; RE 259, s.v. ‘Ruβland’; RE 420, s.v. ‘Dänemark’; RE 216, s.v. ‘Norwegen’; RE 36, s.v. ‘Schweden’.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

511

Finland twice as many. But these figures dropped considerably after mid-century, particularly in Sweden. Linders, in his demographic survey of the Swedish clergy, wrote of a ‘catastrophic’ decrease (22%) of active clergy in mid-century (1850–70) which was compensated only by a slight rise thereafter. Figures for the years 1720, 1870, and 1920 thus showed roughly equal numbers of parish clergy.744 However, pastoral provision in large Swedish parishes with dispersed habitation in these two centuries changed considerably. In the eighteenth century a Swedish parish clergyman served 500–600 parishioners, but after 1850 twice as many in a jump to 1:1,023; thereafter in 1870, 1:1,568; in 1910, 1:2,051; and in 1920, 1:2,188, or four times as many as in 1720 (1:503).745 Pastoral provision also became more problematic after 1850, because Swedish regional variation, particularly north-south, continued. Huge parishes in northern Sweden—after 1918 one could find mother parishes such as Jokkmokk (18,000 sq. kms.) and Galliväre (16,000 sq. kms.)—contrasted with Scanian small and populous parishes which corresponded, owing to their earlier ties, to those on the Danish mainland and islands.746 In Norway, poor pastoral provision was characteristic of large isolated rural Norwegian parishes until 1850, though vicarage farms employing many domestic staff and farm labourers, and parish isolation, created strong parish bonds. Clergy numbers improved after mid-century largely as a result of a more rigorous ‘Pietist’ training at Christiania and a new national mood amongst state officials and Norwegians as a whole which approved of more parish clergy.747 Denmark since Ussing's survey (Ch. 10) remained a country of many parish clergy and small parishes, but in 1900 contained a more urban population (39%) than Norway (28%). It was an important difference, because in the half-century 1850–1900, Copenhagen, especially her new parliament, focused on parish clergy awakened criticism of the kind made by Sofus Høgsbro (1822–1902), director of Rødding Folk High School after 1850, and parliamentary spokesman for the Grundtvigian radical farming interest (1858–92), when he called in 1858 for the abolition of Denmark's ‘clergy machine’ (denne præstemaskine) maintained by secure farms and stipends, and for their election from ‘the middle of

744

Linders, Demografiska Studier, 78–9.

745

Ibid. 77.

746

KLN, s.v. ‘Sverige'.

747

Mannsåker, Det norske presterskapet, 69–70, 77–83.

512

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

the people'. Copenhagen, as a rapidly growing suburban capital with a marked secular culture alien to both the Folkekirke and the awakening, became immensely influential in this new urban environment as a secular pace-setter (see below).748

III. Clergy Background and Recruitment In Protestant Germany after 1871, thirty-nine Landeskirchen continued to recruit their own ordinands (Landeskinder) from their local universities. There were seventeen Protestant universities to choose from: nine in Prussia (Berlin, Breslau, Halle, Greifswald, Königsberg, and Bonn to which were added, after 1866, Kiel, Göttingen, and Marburg), and eight others (Erlangen, Tübingen, Heidelberg, Leipzig, Jena, Giessen, Rostock, and reborn Strasburg). Theological ‘schools’ became very influential in a way undreamt of in the eighteenth century, if you except Halle. It began to matter in a new national environment whether one was trained at a university such as liberal Berlin, Göttingen (notably under Albrecht Ritschl; see next chapter) or Heidelberg, or at Neo-Lutheran Erlangen or post-Harleβian Leipzig. Schools became fashionable even in Sweden owing to educated Swedish ears receptive to German Life and Letters: after 1850 the distinction was made between ‘high-church’ and ‘low-church’ Lund and Uppsala. Otherwise, sons continued to follow fathers, training at the same university (as in the law faculty, where family academic tradition similarly counted). Few ordinands had a sense of the wider world outside the local university and church, and few foreigners studied in German university theology faculties. The Bavarian pastor Wilhelm Stählin (b. 1883), a pastor who associated after 1918 with the German Youth Movement, wrote in his autobiography of being seen as the first Bavarian ordinand (Erlangen, 1901–3) to study (1903–4) in Rostock's theology faculty.749 In the last third of the nineteenth century, most Silesian ordinands at Breslau University still came from the Liegnitz and Breslau districts.750 Largely local recruitment also obtained in Württemberg and Bavaria. Sending sons to the Tübingen Stift, to read Tübingen university theology, and to various Swabian seminaries, was socially very acceptable. A

748

Mannsåker, 81–3; Lindhardt, Vækkelse og kirkelige retninger, 82–3.

749

Conrad, German Universities, 77; Stählin, Via Vitae (Kassel, 1968), 49.

750

Schian, Schlesien, 47–8.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

513

cheap education provided by the Stift and the seminaries, and the prospect of a pleasant country vicarage, was also attractive. More local clergy sons read theology than was true elsewhere: 38 per cent in 1871–6, and still 36 per cent before 1914 (1906–11).751 The established church also benefited from the Swabian value put on ‘being educated’ (gebildet) at Tübingen. Erlangen played a similar role to Tübingen, and notably to Breslau as a Lutheran mother university in a Catholic landscape. More than a third (35.5%) of Erlangen ordinands after 1860 were clergy sons despite the prospect of a very meagre stipend: in 1867–86, 42.9%, in 1886–99, 29.2%, and in 1899–1909, 31.7%. NonBavarian ordinands were spoken of as foreigners (Ausländer).752 If Erlangen ordinands made connections elsewhere, it was usual to visit post-Harleβian Leipzig, or seek appointment in Thuringian Saxony-Weimar or Saxony-Meiningen. Baden provided an exception. Theology at Heidelberg suffered from being linked in the minds of clergy households with enlightened theology, and a liberal state education which imposed a Kulturexamen on its ordinands between 1860 and its revocation on 5 March 1880 (Ch. 18), state grants, and good Friday collections (1875–95) to support ordinands at the ‘state’ university. Distinguished ‘liberal’ theologians such as the pious Richard Rothe (1799–1867), an authority on the history of the Early Christian church and modern homiletics, the son of a Posen family of Prussian officials, Prussian embassy chaplain to Rome (1824–8), friend of Bunsen, and a professor in the Prussian Wittenberg seminary (1828–37), thereafter professor of theology and university chaplain at Heidelberg who helped found the Protestantenverein; the anti-Pietist Adolf Hausrath (1837–1909), professor of church history and New Testament since 1871 (also known as ‘George Taylor’, a writer of popular church history) and a secretary to the Protestantenverein; and the Ritschlian, Ernst Troeltsch (1865–1923), professor of systematic theology (1895–1915), could not erase this entirely negative impression from amongst potential local ordinands. Theology graduates from elsewhere were thus received with open arms: in 1903, fifty-eight (15%) amongst 384 active clergy.753 On the other hand, theology students in the period 1850–1914

751

Würster, Württemberg, 179.

752

Beck, Bayern, 46–7; amongst 878 clergy in Bavaria east of the Rhine, 39% earned less than 600 florins annually, Magen, Protestantische Kirche und Politik in Bayern, 154.

753

Ludwig, Baden, 57–8.

514

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

still continued the old German tradition of the wandering Protestant scholar, though most tended to migrate northsouth rather than south-north. Conrad, in his fifty-year survey of German universities, saw a steady increase in migration south amongst theology students from the old Prussian core provinces: 1850 (c.5%), 1865 (11%), and 1875 (20%). It was, in Conrad's words, part of a ‘desire to know something of the South [which] is at present very strong in North Germany’.754 Easier communication by railway, a warmer climate, good cheap beer and wine, southern ambience, and fine scenery played their part. Leipzig became very attractive as a university with an excellent theology faculty, and as an exciting city of culture which provided cheap accommodation and daily living. Leipzig opened too to Prussian students, owing to a downturn in local ordinands in the decade 1870–80, though this was rectified a decade later (in 1897 amongst 1,307 clergy, 87.9% were Saxon). In 1880, most north German wandering ordinands studied at Leipzig, Erlangen, and Tübingen respectively. On the other hand, southern German ordinands preferred their cosier home university life. Protestant parish clergy continued to be lower to middle class. In Silesia, taking cloth was held in high esteem by primary schoolteachers, minor officials, and craftsmen. A career as a parish clergyman was seen as a generational first rung on the social ladder. This was also true of Prussian Halle after mid-century: recruitment of sons of minor officials and primary schoolteachers (1771: 16%) had risen in 1881 to 26.9%; peasantry and artisans (23.6% in 1768–71 and 26.2% 1820–2) rose from a mid-century drop (14.6%) to 20 per cent in 1881.755 In Erlangen, recruitment from primary schoolteacher households was also relatively high (16.8%). Hanover's senior consistory estimated the following backgrounds of its ordinands in the period 1887–92: clergy households (23.3%), schoolteachers (20.4%), farmers (6%), others (32%).756 On the other hand, a parish clergyman's vocation and the status connected with it remained beneath those who counted socially. Nobility and upper-class sons in Prussia and Saxony hardly ever contemplated a career in the church, though they might support their parish church as patrons (notably as pious Lutheran and Reformed noble families in East Prussia and Pomerania, and their pious counterparts on the Saxon-Silesian-Lusatian border). In Saxony, the comment made in a tract for the

754

Conrad, 53–4, 84.

755

Ibid. 64.

756

Pieper, 174.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

515

times (1832), that ‘only seldom does a rich or influential person take Holy Orders’ held true on the whole before 1918 even if a slight upturn (1877–1900) is taken into account (see below).757 The German half-century (c. 1835–85) showed, as did that of Scandinavia, a fluctuating graph between surplus, scarcity, and modest surplus, though an overall rising trend until 1918 was to read less theology. This had its obvious effect on clergy posts. One could speak of a generally diminishing ratio of Protestant clergymen in proportion to a rising population: in Prussia from 87 per 100,000 (1815), to 58 (1850), and 48 (1880), with a slight rise to 53 (1885). Germany as a whole (with its borders as at 1815) dropped from 15.6 per 100,000 (1831–6) to 10.4 per 100,000 (1881–2).758 On the other hand, southern Germany to some extent made up this growing shortfall. If the proportion reading theology for all Germany was an average drop from 100 to 57 and in the Old Prussian universities (Berlin, Breslau, Halle, Greifswald, Königsberg, and Bonn) from 100 to 36 in the two periods 1830–5 and 1870–5, the southern university of Tübingen rose in contrast from 176 to 259. After c. 1880 Tubingen's theology faculty also gained many sons from school-teacher households (18% amongst ordinants in 1906–11); many of whom went on to urban grammar schools.759 In this more prosperous and national-minded half-century, the view obviously grew that it was no longer an advantage to belong to a theology faculty. A career began to take precedence. After 1850, theology became a modern discipline bracketed with those who wished to be theologians or parish clergy. This, too, was a new feature symptomatic of a growing, modern, constitutional church. Rapidly changing times and values counted too. A wealthier urban middle class and new poor working class showed hardly any interest in Protestant established churches after 1860. A new prosperity, new unplanned urban poverty, and in Conrad's words ‘mood of scepticism’ spread by modern science and education at university and at secondary and technical schools, eroded the authority of Reformation churches as social institutions providing social cohesion and moral education.760

757

‘Nur selten wendet sich ein Reicher oder Vornehmer dem geistlichen Stande zu’, Hildebrant, Die Reform des evangelischen Kirchenwesens (1832), 22, cited Drews, Sachsen, 139.

758

Conrad, 79, 92.

759

Ibid. 76; Würster, 180–1.

760

Conrad, 97–8.

516

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Church authorities seemed in mid-century to take a far too hardline and pious approach to modern times as well. Berlin's senior consistory, both after 1850 and during the Kulturkampf, became most indignant about any deviation from the norms it laid down. On the other hand, in the context of the economic downturn after 1873, Conrad and several other commentators worried too about the way the Kulturkampf fashioned a new emotive national Protestant self-awareness as a ‘Protestant Culture’; meaning a new conservatism composed of a belief that Protestants were intellectually superior to Catholics, a new anti-Semitism, and spiteful oratory about Social Democracy as a contaminating social force. This lamentable trend for a while allowed Landeskirchen to raise their authority and selfesteem amongst prospective students who felt pessimistic about an economic downturn and overcrowding in other subjects such as law.761 However, the general secular trend away from employment in the church could not be stopped. Self-recruitment dropped away at the turn of the century. Halle in 1881 recorded only 16 per cent ordinands from clergy households compared with 72–80 per cent in 1820.762 But recruitment patterns had also to do with a changing social milieu. Urban Saxony recorded a rising educated urban profile of ordinands: in 1897, small and middling towns (36.9%) coupled with the industrial cities Dresden, Leipzig, and the new industrial town Chemnitz (14.9%) versus the country (36.1%). Even professional homes, medical practitioners and civil servants, seemed to take a more positive attitude to the church, even if choice was conditioned by surpluses in medicine and law. Their recruitment doubled in some twenty-four years between 1877 and 1900 (4–7.6%). On the other hand, in the adjacent, more traditional Thuringian churchscape of rolling wooded country and home town, self-recruitment (29.2%), and recruitment from schoolteacher families (21.4%)—on the basis of 308 clergy replies—remained fair.763 However, in more prosperous times, the secular trend away from university theology, had to do, above all, with the almost unreformable historic structure of poor Reformation churches which could not afford to pay decent stipends. Conrad noted at the end of his university half-century that even ‘the artisan class (noted for its

761

Conrad, 98–9:

762

Ibid. 61.

763

Drews, 137, 139; Glaue, Thüringen, 159–60.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

517

supply of ordinands) . . . is withdrawing from theology; they appear to find that trade has more gold in it than a parish’.764 Meagre parish clergy stipends subject to much local variation before a modest improvement after 1880 pushed many freshmen towards the philosophical faculty as the way to better-paid jobs. This was an entirely different path to that taken by students in the eighteenth-century university, where the theology and law faculties divided the official world between them. The first modern surveys, Ernesti (1875) in particular, described a majority of Protestant parish clergy as still existing on ‘starvation’ stipends.765 The gradual abolition of the old landed patronage system as the provider of clergy stipends by land reform and commutation of labour and services (by 1850) was not accompanied by adequate compensation and remuneration. The fact, too, that the state became more professional after 1870, meant that occasional fees, an essential supplement to stipends in the old dependent rural order, were gradually abolished; an obvious example being the loss of registration fees incurred by the establishment of the civil register office in 1875. Some 1,057 Prussian livings in that year, prior to the new constitutional arrangements of 1876, remained, to use the helpful sterling equivalent in the English translation of Conrad's survey, under £90 per annum, a figure well below £120, which itself, to use the words of Berlin's senior consistory, ‘could not give a suitable maintenance.’766 In Hanover, 1,165 livings (1862) averaged £112; in Saxony, 1,096 livings averaged £124 with 58 under £60; in Bavaria, the average Protestant pastor aged 40 earned £66 with a gradual increase thereafter to £100. One could, of course, say that a majority of schoolteachers were not much better off either, and that in hard economic times (after 1873) a poor parish clergyman's post, with at least the prospect of a roof over his head, attracted more attention. Eventually, some compensation was provided after 1880 from municipal and state funds. In the Old Prussian Landeskirche a minimum salary was fixed at £90, which was increased after five years' service to £120, and after twenty years' service to £150. The same scale was introduced to Prussia's new church provinces. This compared with the modest average salary of a Prussian judge (£210 increasing to £300), who still often supplemented his income by literary work. Other states did the same in their new constitutional

764

Conrad, 66.

765

Ibid. 81, 94, 100.

766

Ibid. 94.

518

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churches. Saxony-Weimar fixed in 1883 a minimum £85 stipend which increased by £10 every five years to £135 after twenty-five years of service; in Bavaria after 1870 the minimum stipend rose to £77–80; in Württemberg small livings increased to an £87–100 minimum (Swabian judges, though, fared little better with £110–200); liberal Baden did much the same: £80 during the first seven years of service, £90 after ten years, £110 after fifteen, £130 after twenty, and £150–70 after more than thirty years of service. At the turn of the century, these rough-and-ready figures meant that an average parish clergyman's stipend remained, on its own, basically insufficient to raise a family. Apart from a sense of vocation, many chose the cloth simply because a university theology training and a parish post, however poorly paid, still conferred social standing other than in the large new impersonal industrial cities. In Scandinavia, local recruitment was possibly more typical in four nation-states with only one or two mother universities (Uppsala and Lund, Copenhagen, Christiania, and Helsinki) who returned theology graduates to stillenclosed rural diocesan worlds. Possibly too at traditional universities which imported German critical theology later, the pattern between a longer surplus of theology students, drop (significant in Sweden) in mid-century, and a moderate increase thereafter took place. Matriculated theology students at Uppsala and Lund decreased in the forty-year period 1830–70, rising thereafter with a peak in 1876–80 (more than two-ninths of all students). But this was followed by a drop which was clearly conditioned by a new hostility to a clergy career. In 1911–15, an all-time low (7.7%) was recorded.767 This was compensated to some extent by enthusiasm spread by the so-called Young Church Movement. On the other hand, the same inexorable modern secular process as happened in Protestant Germany told as well. Students looked to a different career path. The percentage of theologians to other students at Uppsala and Lund after 1850 told this story: 1851–60; 13.4%; 1861–70, 11.4%; a rise in 1871–80 to 21%; in 1881–90, 11.3%; a modest rise in 1891–1900 to 14.7%; dropping 1901–10 to 10.1%, and 1911–20, to 9.3%768 Recruitment patterns showed interesting variations in a general trend away from university theology as an opening to a promising

767

Basic: Maria Cronquist, ‘Teologfrekvensen i Sverige efter 1830’ Kå (1925), 139–94; Linders, 35.

768

Linders, 36.

NUMBERS OF CLERGY AND PASTORAL CARE

519

career. In Sweden, if academic qualifications or higher social position expressed by ‘persons of standing’ showed a general decrease after 1750, one did see in the period 1821–60 an increase to c. 50 per cent, conditioned perhaps by an interest amongst educated Swedes in a time of a national and romantic revival in their own history and their Reformation church. This interest changed dramatically, though, in the period of awakened and liberal popular movements demanding adequate representation in the new constitutional period (1860–1900) when their support dropped to 25 per cent.769 In Denmark, the absence of a continuous row of statistics, and the absence of an informed study such as that by Hansen of Denmark's eighteenth-century parish clergy, makes it difficult to reach general conclusions. Before 1914, Copenhagen's theology faculty had c. 500 university students compared with 1,000 in 1830, despite Copenhagen theology faculty linkage with enlightened theology until c. 1840, and a basic lack of reform (in staff and in the theology curriculum) which responded to the awakening thereafter. But the middle of the century proved as testing a time as it was over the water in Lund and Uppsala. Copenhagen's theology faculty and curriculum, subject to bitter criticism by city liberals and an awakened laity for some thirty years after 1849, experienced a drop in the annual average of graduating ordinands (c. 34–8)—this was comparable to the troubled wartime years 1803–8 (35.8) and 1808–13 (26.2)—followed by a jump in the decade 1885–95 (64) and an average in 1900 (60–70) comparable with the late eighteenth-century770 But criticism could not be stilled; Grundtvigian circles continued to clamour for the abolition of the Copenhagen theology's monopoly of clergy training, and Home Mission (Indre Mission) circles called for a more biblical and confessional theology. This led to reform in the decade before 1914 (Ch. 20). In Norway after 1850, the old enlightened generation trained at Copenhagen before 1814 was replaced by a pious generation of Neo-Lutheran and Grundtvigian clergy called by parishioners (1856) ‘true and able pastors’ (sande og dygtige sjælesørgere) who were trained at Christiania.771 Self-recruitment remained fairly important, though swings were typical: a high level during 1801–20 (40%) followed by a drop during 1821–40 (27.4%), a rise in the period 1841–60 (36.2%),

769

Ibid. 148–9.

770

Københavns universitet, v. 315, 393, 425, 463–4.

771

Mannsåker, 58–9, 61.

520

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

levelling off 1861–80 (30.3%), dropping significantly in the critical time 1881–1900 (16.9%), and returning to a figure just below 30 per cent in 1901–10 (29.3%)772 The dramatic curve (1881–1900) had clearly to do with a modern urban cultural radicalism (1875–1900), possibly more pronounced than Denmark's, associated with social realist novelists like Björnstjerne Björnson (1832–1910) and Alexander Kielland (1849–1906), who made much of a new contrast between village and modern coastal town. After 1860 in a country with a much smaller middle class and fewer towns than either Sweden or Denmark, sons of farmers and fishermen (below 10% before 1860) became more interested in taking orders, rising from 16.3 per cent in 1861–80 to a peak of 28 per cent in 1881–1900, and levelling off after 1900 (24.6% in 1901–10). Crafts, commerce, and transport supplied over eighteen per cent throughout the nineteenth century (23–4% during 1841–80). Higher civil servants and those in public service supplying 12 per cent in 1840, dropped dramatically thereafter (1861: c.4%, and 1900–10: 2.7%). This reflected professionalization in the modern state. After 1870 many home-parish parents saw after 1870, the law faculty as a better basis for upward mobility.773 If Scandinavian urban and industrial cultures were not closely related as in Germany, a secular urban culture did lead to a crasser ideological division between a modern urban liberal middle-class milieu together with new working-class culture and both the established churches and national awakenings. In Denmark, between 1870 and 1901, Copenhagen increased its population by 130 per cent and Danish provincial towns by 100 per cent in comparison with 50 per cent in the countryside.774 Both Denmark and Norway experienced a new gulf between urban high and low culture and rural parish life. In Sweden, parish clergy also noticed the appearance of a modern secular-minded urban culture which in some circles seemed to come all of a sudden at the turn of the century. Minds influenced by a fresh Ritschlian practical theology focused rapidly on a sounder practical training for work in modern mobile parishes. This began a new debate which was in full swing in 1918 when the period of this book finishes.

772

Mannsåker, 144–5 passim.

773

Ibid.

774

Lindhardt, 95.

20 Reformation Churches and a Modern Protestant Moral Order I. Pastoral Crisis For Protestant churchmen in the new German nation-state the issue was not so much the long distances to the parish church laid bare by new Protestant religious statistics, but a far deeper question of whether the Christian church had any place at all, even a moral role, in a new urban environment dominated by large industrial cities containing new immigrant populations working for industrial wages and housed in large suburban slums, and in rural home parishes changed by the exogenous pressure of the modern wage economy and its division of labour. Troeltsch, professor of systematic theology at Heidelberg (1894–1915), in an article (1908) of reflection on the successful growth of Protestant German theology as an exciting modern academic discipline in the past half-century, noted, in contrast, a marked decline of the Protestant church's voice in public life. There was an astonishing public indifference and ignorance about anything to do with the church; ‘scientific theology’ too, had become increasingly indifferent to the daily problems facing her.775 What Troeltsch did not mention, was the way a new social deprivation connected with modern industrial cities challenged fundamentally pre-industrial dependency values associated with care of the poor, and transregional evangelical charitable mission, such as Wichern's, fostered by still widespread lay revivals in Protestant Germany, Scandinavia, and western Europe as a whole. The evangelical view, that to preach the gospel of an uncompromising reborn faith coupled with a new emphasis on voluntary churchman-ship supported economically by free-will offerings, was the best way

775

‘Rückblick auf ein halbes Jahrhundert der theologischen Wissenschaft’, Gesammelte Schriften, ii. 193–226.

522

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

to avoid compromise with the worldly order inherent in church establishment, and the best way to confront an indifferent state, whose local municipal secular order was replacing historic home parishes, and new Marxist Social Democratic Party programmes which proclaimed religion to be solely a private matter, produced a profound ideological conflict at the turn of the nineteenth century over the moral role of Protestantism in a social order shaped increasingly by urban values. An evangelical, rural, lower-class religion uniting craftsmen, artisans, cottars, and fishing communities began to struggle with a similar urban, lower-class (both conveniently described by the ambiguous term Mittelstand used by a new German sociology) religion of ‘good works’ called Christian Socialism led by a young generation of parish clergy reformers who after c. 1880 involved middle- and upper-middle-class figures touched by an uneasy Protestant social conscience. Exclusive religious attitudes produced in a more democratic and plural political environment of enfranchisement (Denmark 1849–65, Sweden 1866, Germany 1867–71), a threatened Protestant frame of mind which could become politically extreme. In the hot German ideological climate of the Kulturkampf, not only did one hear the often repeated refrain, ‘we Protestants have the worst of it’ apropos marriages between Protestants and Catholics—a natural development following the end of residence requirements in 1867—but modern Judaism in Berlin was also unfortunately bracketed with a new mobile wealth and secular-minded, liberal, upper-middle-class culture critical of the Christian church.776 Pastor Stoecker's anti-Semitic aside about Berlin's Jewish community, ‘They prefer to live in Jerusalem Street [Berlin's shopping centre] rather than in the streets of Jerusalem’, was symptomatic of similar thinking in Copenhagen, a capital also identified with an upper-middle-class culture hostile to Christian establishment, and given a focus by the extremely influential writing, known as the ‘Modern Breakthrough’ of the Jewish free-thinker, Georg Brandes (1842–1927).777 The bishop of Sjælland (1854–84), Martensen, bracketed modern Judaism with secular Copenhagen, and what he called the new Culturstaat, in the second volume of his Christian Ethics (Den Christelige Ethik), which he published simultaneously in Danish and German in 1878. Modern Jews, meaning

776

Pieper, Kirchliche Statistik Deutschlands, 43–4.

777

Kupisch, Stoecker: Hofprediger und Volkstribun, 81.

REFORMATION AND PROTESTANT MORAL ORDER

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those who no longer took the Talmud seriously, Martensen alleged, used their new wealth (Martensen, who had read Marx, used the word ‘capital’), Denmark's parliament—which no longer subscribed to the Danish articles of religion—the press and modern liberal letters to dissolve the Protestant moral order in a still-Christian state.778 In Germany, Protestant parish clergy were forced to acknowledge that rapid urban concentration, and by implication the social crisis which accompanied it after 1870, was a Protestant German phenomenon. Five cities above 100,000 population in 1850 climbed to twenty-six in 1890, and forty-one in 1905; nine million Protestants (out of a total of 37.5 million) lived in cities above 100,000 population, and ten million in towns above 50,000. This contrasted with three million Catholics (out of a total of 23 million), or one-seventh, living in large cities. Agricultural employment sank correspondingly in the period 1882–1907 from 42 to 28 per cent. But remedial pastoral action by Protestant clergy was hampered by a still fragile constitutional and statistical framework (religious statistics for Berlin were available first in 1865), by the conflict mentioned above between ‘gospel’ and ‘good works’, by the residue of pre-industrial dependency values, and by a new nation-state whose control over church government was strengthened immeasurably by Bismarck's Kulturkampf legislation.779 Berlin feared pastors in politics. A new Protestant emperor (1888–1918), William II (1859–1941), vacillated between the ‘sense’ (1890) and ‘nonsense’ (1895) of Christian social action. This forced the Prussian EOK to ban pastors in politics in the latter year.780 A reform of historic parishes and their map of pastoral care was thus only possible as the twentieth century dawned. It was no mere coincidence that the still-classic biography of Spener was written (1893–1906) by a noted urban parish reformer, the young ‘Ritschlian’ Strasburg pastor, Paul Grünberg. Needless to say, Berlin, when Grünberg wrote his biography, posed a suburban pastoral problem of an entirely different kind and magnitude to that in Spener's day.

778

Martensen, Christian Ethics, § 48 (§§ 45–50).

779

In 1875 Bismarck cancelled the basic religious liberties of the Prussian 1850 constitution (§§ 15, 16, 18); in force until 1918, Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, ii. no. 11.

780

Emperor William II's speech (14 Feb. 1890) approving Christian social action, the EOK's endorsement (17 Apr. 1890), and the EOK's ban (16 Dec. 1895) on pastors in politics, ibid. iii. nos. 306, 321; ‘Politische Pastoren [Stoecker] sind ein Unding. Wer Christ ist, der ist auch sozial, christliche-sozial ist Unsinn . . . ’, telegram, William II to Hinzpeter (28 Feb. 1896), ibid. no. 264.

524

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

The rapidity of the second European industrial and urban revolution, particularly in Protestant Prussia and the Reformation heartland, Saxony, exposed an old, poor, and unreformed Protestant home-parish order in a far more damaging way than either political change in 1815, or religious change implied by Prussian and other Union churches thereafter. Industrial Berlin, Dresden, and Leipzig were new worlds of secular-minded wealth, and a large new urban poor living beyond pastoral care. Berlin in 1871, a city over 800,000, furnished housing for perhaps 400,000. What was meant by a home was questionable too: some 30,519 homes having only one heated room, each housed between six and twenty householders. New rented accommodation (Mietskaserne) reminiscent of tenement housing in industrial Glasgow in a poor new suburban sprawl with few amenities and devoid of any personal pastoral care mocked the challenge which clergy like Chalmers and Gerlach had faced a half-century earlier. A lack of new parishes was the result of a long series of public rows about dividing historic parishes. It was extremely difficult to change the canon law ruling that the patron paid one-third and parishioners two-thirds. Poor immigrant parishioners simply could not pay. As a result, suburban parishes lost any definition: north of Berlin's city gates in 1871, St Sophie and St George included over 50,000 and 80,000 parishioners respectively; there were five or six other city parishes with between 20,000 and 30,000 inhabitants. It became physically impossible for city clergy still trained by a university theology which had not begun to prepare ordinands for modern urban parish work, to exercise their official and parish duties. Some improvement in Berlin became possible only after the installation of a city synod (Stadtsynod) in 1895, the year Protestant clergy were forbidden to take part in politics. It was not so very surprising that churchgoing on an average Berlin Sunday varied between 1.8 per cent in 1869 and 2.5 per cent in 1875, and that the statistics provided by new register offices showed that in Berlin and other cities in 1910, up to a third of newborn children remained unbaptized, and that marriages outside church had increased by between 50 and 75 per cent.781 In Saxony—the German state in the nineteenth century with the fastest rise in population (an annual compound rate during 1834–1910 of 1.45%), an urban-industrial surge after 1867, and

781

Grünberg, Die evangelische Kirche: ihre Organisation und ihre Arbeit ïn der Groβstadt (1910), 17–18, 66; Wendland, Kirchengeschichte Berlins, 315–16.

REFORMATION AND PROTESTANT MORAL ORDER

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another leap at the turn of the century (1880–1900, 71%)—the new contrast between the old home-parish system and the new industrial order spread over the kingdom as such. The levelling of town and country went furthest in Germany: in 1900, urban and rural contained equal numbers, two million Saxons each. Despite attempts at the reorganization of diocesan boundaries after 1815 (Ch. 14), it was rare to divide parishes: the home parish remained an unchangeable legal entity; each parish had to provide so many services that each pastor could preach at least once a month at the main Sunday service; private patrons remained influential; parish financial autonomy was strictly observed. Even the idea of a parish division enacted by parliament proved virtually impossible for most of the century, since there were large numbers of patrons in both houses of the Saxon parliament. A draft bill (Auspfarrungsgesetz, 1837) had come to nothing. Numbers of clergy failed to keep up with mobile times: some 1,080 clergy in 1817 had risen to 1,090 in 1850.782 The lack of clergy posts was magnified in industrial cities: Dresden (140,000 in 1850), known already as a capital with poor churchmanship, grew to four times its original population in the half-century 1850–1900. Parish division took place for the first time in 1854/5; in Leipzig in 1856 (Ch. 7). The Ephorie or diocese of Dresden which had included fifty-one parish churches since the Reformation became impossible to manage; on 1 March 1855 it was divided into two: Ephorie Dresden I (the city) with four parishes; and Ephorie Dresden II (Radeberg on the east bank of the Elbe) with twenty-three parishes. This lasted until 1926; however, it was only a gesture, given Dresden's population explosion after 1867: in 1877, the Kreuzkirche parish (92,000) was served by seven clergy (1: 13,000). Some improvement followed in a threefold division the following year; four more parishes were created thereafter (1880, 1887, 1889, 1891). Parish size was as unwieldy in Leipzig—Grünberg calculated that in 1884 seven city clergy served some 70,000 parishioners—and in other new industrial cities such as Chemnitz with parishes such as that of St John (1870–80: 1: 42,000).783 These suburbs, devoid of parish churches and care, produced a modern Saxon proverb, ‘the larger the town, the emptier the churches’. The same was true of a new

782

Drews, Sachsen, 24.

783

S. Heitmann, ‘Geschichte der Ephorie Dresden I: eine strukturgeschichtliche Untersuchung’, BKGD 10 (1975–6), 163–92; Grünberg, 14; 112 new parishes (26% increase) were created in the period (1874–1900), Drews, Sachsen, 26 passim.

526

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

ribbon development of little industrial towns. Parishes incorporated villages and new working-class suburbs such as Stolberg town parish (1895: 15,340), which linked up Stolberg village (6,917) with seven new industrial suburbs (8,423). Saxon parish reform, meaning the remapping of boundaries and division into smaller parishes, first became a possibility after the reform of its church constitution in 1868 and 1873 (Ch. 18). But the Protestant countryside produced as pessimistic a pastoral picture. One of the many inquiries (1895) into the moral profile of Lutheran parishes sponsored by a new middle-class social ethics—an area still considered by many amongst this generation of parish clergy as too intimate—in Prussia, both Mecklenburgs, Saxony (and Saxony-Anhalt), showed that churchgoing was reasonably good everywhere whether taken seriously or merely as convention.784 But this had little to do with parish morals. They were as bad, if not worse, than morals in industrial towns and cities. In other words, the practice of piety by evangelical awakenings seemed to be of minimal influence on parish morals. More sermons, more confirmation classes, more pastoral care were ineffectual. What were important were the particular local customs that obtained in parishes where an intact home peasantry valued their social reputation, and their exposure to a new division of labour introduced by the modern market economy. A sense of popular religious history was also important: rural parish immorality—transgression against the sixth commandment in particular—was an ‘old evil’. Time had moved on, however. A pious devotio domestica was simply out of date. Immoral behaviour—premarital intercourse and drink—had more to do with the modern work ethic. This entailed parents being away at work for long hours, the employment of a large day and seasonal labour force on large estates farming for profit, a new mobility (after 1867) which erased a sense of roots or tradition, and appalling rural housing with families often living in one or two overcrowded, ill-furnished rooms. One could cite East Prussian Gumbinnen, a province with very large parishes containing between twenty-eight and forty-nine small villages, a large percentage of peasant smallholdings, and few large estates. Sunday observance, family prayers, and giving were good

784

H. Wittenburg and E. Hückstädt (eds.), Die geschlechtlich sittlichen Verhältnisse der evangelischen Landbewohner etc., Ostdeutschland, 1 (Leipzig, 1895), 211 passim ; RE (1906), s.v. M. Rade, ‘Sitte, Sittlichkeit, Sittengesetz’; RGG3, s.v. ‘Sittlichkeitsbestrebungen’.

REFORMATION AND PROTESTANT MORAL ORDER

527

(over 50 per cent communicated) despite the very long distances to church, but this contrasted with lax morals induced partly by terrible shared living conditions (two families to a single room), and pastoral care which no longer took the church's moral disciplinary arm so seriously.785 Königsberg's similar rural hinterland produced a similar contrast, apparent in the saying, ‘church in the morning; pub in the afternoon’, and the pastoral practice at the marriage service of removing candles from the altar and giving a bridal crown (Brautkranz) of artificial flowers to those who had transgressed.786 The same contrast to a greater or lesser extent was true of all these rural provinces. There were interesting variants as usual: in the southern part of Silesia, where there was a traditional tension between Catholic and Lutheran parishes and a Kulturkampf climate, the moral profile of both denominational parishscapes was considerably better, for fear of losing religious face; in Potsdam's rural hinterland the register office (1875) seemed to strengthen the customary parochial philosophy of marriage, ‘Na, wenn's nicht gehen will, geht's nicht’; in both manorial Mecklenburgs employing itinerant labour, illegitimacy—of the men it was said ‘peccatur intra et extra muros’—reached the high level of 16 per 100 births (ducal demesnes 11.6 per 100): entire families including day-labourers wintered in one room; landlords often refused their consent to peasant marriages (this was described well in dialect by Fritz Reuter (1810–74) in Kein Husung, 1857); and owing to the tie of patronage, the parish clergyman was usually the last to hear the news about bad landlords and fallen women.787 A sense of pastoral care in crisis was summoned up too by the inexorable rise of an industrial working-class as a percentage of population: from a fifth in 1870, to a quarter in 1882, and a third in 1907. Political formation after 1871 of a Marxist Social Democratic Party united on the Gotha (May 1875)—and after the expiry of Bismarck's AntiSocialist Law (1878) in 1890, on a revised and more militant Erfurt (October 1891)—programme, which called for ‘a free State and a socialistic society’ (1875, § 2), religion to become a ‘private matter’ and the ‘secularization of education’ (1891, §§ 6–7), was considered a major threat as a popular secular party which preached an alternative social gospel, and bracketed Protestant

785

Wittenburg and Hückstädt, 27–41.

786

ibid. 42–57; ‘die Enge des Zusammenwohnens erstickt jedes Schamgefühl’, ibid. 44.

787

Southern Silesia, Potsdam hinterland, Mecklenburgs: ibid. 307, 41, 167–72.

528

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

churches with hierarchy and social establishment. August Bebel's (1840–1913) Saxon Socialist travelling preachers (Reiseprediger) who copied contemporary evangelical mission, and socialist town ward organization promising a better life, were an attractive alternative culture of discussion meetings, folk festivals, organized walks and picnics, which proved much too successful in capturing Protestant moral ground. Urban Lutheran clergy were wholly unprepared for this concerted effort. Large cities fell one by one to the SPD in the Kulturkampf decade (1871–81): in the national elections of 1877, 486,842 voted SPD, mostly in Protestant northern Germany, though this vote was also sizeable in Stuttgart, Mannheim, and Munich. Berlin, Breslau, Magdeburg, Hamburg (26,000, or 40% of those entitled to vote), Altona, Bremen, and Dresden recorded huge swings. Bismarck's Anti-Socialist Law, enacted the following year and in force until 1890, politicized a Protestant clergy who thought in terms of loyalty, of ‘king and country’, given their vows at ordination to the Landeskirche. The pastoral scene in Scandinavia was not much better in the last third of the nineteenth century, though a division between a large, complex, and growing industrial landscape and a changing rural order was not so crass. On the other hand, the capitals, Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Helsinki (Ch. 19) did grow very rapidly after 1870, as did many new railway townships, and, particularly in northern Sweden and Finland, new logging-industry towns. If some 90 per cent of Swedes lived on the land in 1850, this had been reduced to 71 per cent in 1910: 25 per cent lived in towns, and 4 per cent in new municipalities (a word coined in 1875 for places provided with public services). The last third of the Scandinavian nineteenth century was a time when large popular movements flourished; Social Democratic Parties based on the German Gotha programme were also founded in Denmark (1876), Sweden (1882)—whose SPD programme was a translation of the Danish—Norway (1890) (all three incorporated the revised Erfurt programme) and Finland (1906). New mass organizations united around evangelical mission such as Sweden's Svenska missionsförbundet (1878), membership 84,602 (1903), (in 1918, 64 per cent of parliamentarians in both houses were teetotal). They also united around Scandinavian ‘co-operation’, which watered down the imported Marxist Gotha and Erfurt SPD programmes in, for example, the Swedish trade union movement, Landsorganisation i Sverige (LO, 1898), 186,000 members (1907–8),

REFORMATION AND PROTESTANT MORAL ORDER

529

and an extremely popular new co-operative movement (Kooperativa förbundet, 1899). This, too, was a new and separate world for parish clergy.788

II. The Legacy of Custodianship: Evangelism and Good Works in Conict After 1870, the Reformation tradition of a shared custodianship between established church and ruler finally passed to the state. A sizeable rural and industrial proletariat produced a debate about the traditional state built on hierarchical power relationships. Should it continue to be laissez faire, or should it be socially aware, interventionist? The first steps taken by the state towards social protection coincided with national economic protectionism after 1879–80. Municipal social care started to be run by paid professional staffs. Milestones in secular social care before 1914, though not in any planned order, were: Bismarck's obligatory social insurance legislation comprising sickness, accident, and old age insurance (1883–9); in Denmark, old age (obligatory, 1891), sickness (voluntary, 1892), accident (1898), and unemployment insurance (voluntary, 1907); in Norway accident (1894), unemployment (voluntary, 1906), and sickness insurance (obligatory, 1909); and in Sweden, sickness (voluntary, 1891), accident (1901), and old age insurance (obligatory, 1913). At parish level, municipal social care, which had replaced home parish charity by 1850–60 (Ch. 16), was centralized and professionalized. The German ‘Elberfeld System’ of poor relief introduced to industrial towns in 1853 mixing individual support, decentralization (towns were divided into small poor districts), honorary management of poor care so as to draw on the services of more middle-class citizens, and areas of competence defined by the ward (Quartier)—a system of counselling to aid self-help—was possible in a relatively static environment of fair-sized poor districts before the abolition of residence requirements in 1867. It collapsed inevitably with the building of large immigrant suburbs dividing the well-off from the poor. Elberfeld itself grew from 31,514 in 1840, to 109,218 in 1885,

788

Carlsson and Rosén, Svensk historia, 2. 361, 390 passim ; RE (1906), 36, s.v. ‘Schweden’.

530

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and 167,382 in 1905. Centralization and professionalization came with the Strasburg system (1905), which used a mix of honorary officers supervising districts containing some 600 poor under a central Poor Office (Armenamt) staffed with paid officials. The division between professional (administrative and policing) and honorary staff (pastoral and educational) became clearer; the modern mix between public administration and advisory social work appeared on the scene for the first time.789 But this was a development beyond the ken of a generation of parish clergy and awakened laity who lived still in the shadow of home-parish dependency, and an emphasis put on winning souls by an awakened mission such as Wichern's. Could one mix evangelism with good works? Could one leave charity to the state? There was no easy solution. Participants in Wichern's (d. 1881) Innere Mission congresses and the new church conferences, which usually met in the same town at the same time (the place of the church in large cities was raised by the Swabian Pietist, Kapff, at Berlin's Church Day in 1853), did not understand the modern urban proletariat: what Wichern called the ‘fourth estate’ (Fliegende Blätter, 1851).790 A mass of unfortunates who had lost contact with the healthy pre-industrial social order of ‘estates’, and provided the seed-bed for Communism and Socialism, so Wichern argued (with 1848 in mind), could only be helped by Christian moral rebirth. Sunday observance, Sunday school, saving souls through the service of a New Testament diacony supported by voluntary contributions, and an increasing insistence on Stahl's conservative patriarchal philanthropy, continued to reflect the thinking of Innere Mission late nineteenth-century spokesmen such as Friedrich von Bodelschwingh (1831–1910), who after 1864 was pastor of Westphalian Dellwig in a new industrial wasteland, Kapff in Württemberg, and Theodor Lohmann (1831–1905), prominent in the Hanoverian Innere Mission (1866–71), and thereafter one of Bismarck's chief advisers on his social legislation. A redistribution of wealth based on the modern principles of social and political equality had no place here; even mutual savings banks, building societies, and co-operatives were considered valid only if they promoted explicitly Christian morality and brotherhood. No general

789

Sachβe and Tennstedt, Armenfürsorge in Deutschland, ii. 23–32; Krabbe, Die deutsche Stadt, 101–2.

790

Cited Shanahan, German Protestants Face the Social Question, 265.

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social statement was in fact made by the Innere Mission directors until its Bethel congress in 1924.791 Loyalty to old Protestant political order of ruler and his church continued to be emphasized. Almost three-quarters of the charitable societies linked to the Innere Mission were thus to be found in the provinces of the Old Prussian Church. It remained far less important elsewhere, though it gained national ground at the turn of the century. Neo-Lutheran Bavaria and similar Landeskirchen such as the Mecklenburgs, or Livonia and Estonia, rejected the Prussian colour of the Innere Mission, and produced their own but nevertheless similar variants. Löhe's charitable female diacony at Franconian Neuendettelsau was particularly successful. There could be no constructive dialogue with urban secularism. Even non-Marxist Social Democracy was suspect on moral grounds: Wichern called Lassalle's humanist democratic variant ‘a permanent veto on God's moral law’.792 Urban social issues were hard to comprehend: the wage issue was raised for the first time at the Kiel conference in 1864; the labour question at Stuttgart in 1869. It was easier to identify with the land. At the Berlin conference on agricultural labour (1872), the agronomist, Theodor Freiherr von der Goltz (1835–1905), recounting the disastrous moral effect of a large-scale export agriculture on the peasantry and hired labour in Prussia's Eastern Lutheran provinces, appealed, obviously with a strong moral emphasis, for a better Christian family life and stronger parish bonds, which should provide the basis for the reduction of long hours of work, improved accommodation, improved primary Christian education, and the setting up of Christian savings banks and consumer co-operatives. But this was thinking which was not peculiarly Protestant Prussian or German. The restraints placed on social action by custodianship, and a conflict between an awakened countryside and secular town, was just as marked in neighbouring Denmark under the long thirty-year episcopate of Hans Lassen Martensen (1808–84) after 1854. Martensen's espousal of Holberg's ‘middle way’ in church politics, his attempt to provide a synodal framework as a replacement for a parliament which no longer recognized the Danish articles of religion, and his extremely popular mediating theology uniting faith and knowledge which called for a human touch (det menneskelige) as

791

ibid. 208–9.

792

ibid. 385.

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a practical theology of good works, was a perilous gospel for a bishop who had defended his predecessor, Mynster (who as a bishop standing for Christian truth at the beginning of his episcopate had been mercilessly attacked by Kierkegaard), and who had to shepherd a new Folkekirke riven by many church tendencies (retninger). Martensen saw Innere Mission diacony as ‘one of the most hopeful signs of life in the evangelical Church’, and Wichern as a successful Protestant Vincent de Paul in Copenhagen's rapidly growing suburban industrial order.793 This mission was the way to solve the social problems caused by capitalist monopolism which had followed Adam Smith's competitive free-trade theories, and bridge urban ‘class’ and ‘proletariat’ analysed by Marx and Engels. But even such thinking was risky. Martensen's tract for the times, Socialisme og Christendom (1874), popular with Copenhagen's new social-democratic press, won little support from either government or church establishment. His ideal, a Christian corporate industrial order, ‘a relation between employers and workmen which shall be ruled by a spirit of humane and Christian love’ proved too controversial in a church divided, after Danish defeat in 1864, between a powerful Grundtvigian nationalliberal political culture (called ‘left’, Venstre, in contrast to conservative ‘right’, Højre) supported by a new industrial farming community who gained control over their own clergy (Valgmenighedslov, 1868), and a neo-Pietist Indre Mission (founded in Sjælland in 1853) travelling evangelism whose intention was to ‘awaken life in those who slumber in sin’ (‘vække liv hos dem, der sover i synden’) by preaching an uncompromising Gospel.794 Personality, one suspects the more idiosyncratic the better, was important in this new evangelical churchscape. Vilhelm Beck (1829–1901), the son of a Sjælland rural dean, united a sharp wit, heavy smoking, pleasure in a good vicarage table, and elegant dress reminiscent of a cavalry officer, with a dictatorial evangelicalism, which fed on a massive rejection of church establishment nourished by Kierkegaard's fundamental criticism, and hostility to Grundtvigianism which he suspected, in his unsentimental way, to be a cosy, humanist (Beck avoided any mention of det menneskelige in his preaching), semi-pagan Norse religion suited to materialistic

793

Martensen, Christian Ethics, ii. 149; foreign and home missions (§§ 147–50).

794

ibid. § 67; the ‘labour question’ (§§ 61–3 passim ); Lindhardt, Vækkelse og kirkelige retninger, ch. 3.

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Danish farmers. Beck disliked the way rural parish clergy on pastoral visits found it advisable to begin talking about pigs and end with Jesus (‘Man kan godt begynde med grisen og ende med Kristus’). Beck reorganized Sjælland's Indre Mission as a Kirkelig Forening for Indre Mission in 1861 (which became official in 1872), using the adjective kirkelig (ecclesiastical) as a keyword for a new bond between a ‘converted’ junior clergy and laity whose mission was to evangelize using a new missionary press, Indre Missions Tidende, spread by colporteurage. Preaching in the second person singular, ‘How is it with you and Jesus, are you saved?’ (‘Hvordan har du det med Jesus, er du frelst?’), open air devotion and religious discussion, especially in the woods in spring and summer (Skovmøder), English, American, and Swedish revivalist hymns from a hymn-book such as Hjemlandstoner (1895), which omitted Grundtvig's hymns as ‘pagan’ effusions, and a strong appeal to king and country, produced a second fundamentalist revival; especially in Jutland amongst old Pietist circles and an under-privileged rural Mittelstand. One wave after another of conversions, chapel and mission-house building (the first mission house was built in 1874; there were 371 in 1900, with names such as Gethsamene)—not least in the new semi-urban railway settlements, after Beck's arrival in Jutland in 1865 (for a while he was vicar of Ørum-Ginnerup before returning to Sjælland in 1874)—spread from the east coast to the extremely poor fishing villages such as Harboøre on the north-west coast, and even to the tip of Jutland, causing the sudden conversion in 1896 of Skagen town. But Beck's Indre Mission offered a bleak choice between salvation and eternal perdition, in the manner of Kierkegaard's ‘Either/Or’. Once again, an individual's spiritual state was ranked: who was a true believer, who was on the way (på vej), and who was lost (fortabt, hisset). Conversions implied a radical break with the past, and inclusion in a new exclusive congregation of latter-day saints (de hellige). ‘Perdition’ (fortabelse), the certainty of eternal punishment, caused terrifying conflicts of conscience amongst close neighbours in Danish villages and many small towns; it split families (the young were won over to their new baptismal covenant dåbssamfund in Sunday School), and parishioners. Carl Julius Moe (1848–1927) the awakened vicar of the fishing community Harboøre (1877–85), earned an infamous reputation for the Indre Mission in Denmark's national-liberal press for his ruthless determination to root out drink

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and superstition: notably in a sermon on the Third Sunday in Lent (1881; Brændevinsprædiken), and for branding in a burial sermon twenty-six fishermen who drowned one stormy night in 1893 as owing their misfortune to not being true ‘believers’ (troende).795 But, as an identifiable religion for the rural and new semi-urban under-privileged, the Indre Mission became the dominant conservative religious and moral force in the Danish countryside and small town by 1900, and it lasted well into the 1930s. In the context of industrial Copenhagen, Indre Mission imported this rural conflict as a Bible mission which opposed diacony, or good works (gode gerninger: James 2: 18) entertained by Martensen and his generation of ordinands. Beck and like-minded pious clergy wanted to win over a Satanic capital (‘Satans hovedstad i Danmark’) by God's Word alone.796 A city branch was founded in 1865. Beck had capable pastoral lieutenants. Rudolf Frimodt (1828–79), the first pastor of the new St John parish (1861) in Nørrebro beyond the city walls—its establishment followed a decision in 1852 to start building parishes in the new suburbs outside the old city—though a poor organizer, combined successful, fresh, and powerful witness preaching, a spirit of evangelical community, and a new rallying cry against emergent Copenhagen ‘Socialism’, as the first director of Copenhagen's Indre Mission. His disciple, Peter Krag (1839–1912), pastor to the new St James parish (Jakobskirke) after 1878, became in a short time the most discussed city clergyman, both positively and negatively, not least in Copenhagen's social-democratic press. Krag, like Sulze in Dresden, whose book on the reform of city parishes (1891) he read, became a leading voice in a campaign for small gathered city parishes. He was supported by another like-minded pastor, Julius Friis Hansen (1856–1905), a disciple of Frimodt and admirer of Chalmers (whose writing on poor relief he translated). Friis Hansen, one of the founders of Copenhagen's ‘Ring’, or ‘Friends of the Church’ and the secretary of Copenhagen's Church Fund in 1896 (see further), was a committed spokesman (after 1889) of congregational action, a mixture of evangelism and diacony (menighedspleje) on a voluntary basis in contrast to relief organized by

795

Niels Bierre's fine oil-painting (1897), Et Bønnemøde i Harboøre (Kunstakademiets billedsamling, Copenhagen), recaptures revivalist prayers at a living-room table before a picture of the Crucifixion; Hans Kirk's (1898–1962) novel, Fiskerne (1928), is a classic portrait of this piety.

796

Lindhardt, Vækkelse og kirkelige retninger, 134.

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the established church and new municipal agencies, and as a pastor who believed in the provision of small and cheap suburban chapels built by voluntary contributions, a staunch critic of a proposal (in 1893) for state or public-funded building of large city churches. On the other hand, lines between evangelical mission and good works blurred in this fast-rising and complex suburban jungle. Junior clergy saw the Indre Mission's exclusively evangelical stance as dangerous. Harald Stein (1840–1900), chaplain to Copenhagen's Institute of Deaconesses (1863), preferred Wichern's and Martensen's call for diacony, and Stoecker's ‘Christian Socialism’ (he had visited Stoecker in Berlin). He challenged Beck's evangelical preaching (Ordmission) in a popular book, What Does the Indre Mission Want? (Hvad vil den Indre Mission? 1876; German 1883); arguing for a conservative ‘preserving, saving and alleviating’ (bevarende, frelsende og lindrende) city mission of good works (Gerningsmission) for all ages and classes as the best way to combat Copenhagen secularism and socialism. Sunday schools; youth work in imitation of the British YMCA (KFUM, 1878) and YWCA (KFUK, 1884); factory mission; provision of cheap board and lodging for female domestics, prostitutes (Magdalenehjemmet, 1877), and alcoholics; and better hospitals and standards of nursing, were directed from a central mission house Bethesda (1882) at the Grøntorvet which ran its own newspaper, Fra Bethesda (1884), and bookshop. Stein's chairmanship of Copenhagen's Indre Mission (1880–9; bishop of Fyn thereafter) posed a formidable threat to Beck's mission and Beck's nationalism which saw German ‘Christian Socialism’ as an unpleasant foreign import. But Beck was lucky. The speed with which Copenhagen grew meant that many new immigrants came from the rural milieu which he had evangelized. They enabled the Indre Mission to consolidate its position in suburban Copenhagen in the decade 1880–90. A key figure was a close friend of Beck and a fellow Kierkegaardian, Henry Ussing (1855–1943). He was also a pupil of Erlangen's theological ‘sureness in belief ’, learnt from another Erlangen pupil, Peder Madsen (1843–1911), professor of dogmatics and New Testament at Copenhagen since 1875, who argued for retaining articles of religion and an unrevised Lutheran Bible which were important in contrast to the ‘evaluation’ called for by liberal theology. As pastor since 1891 of Hvidovre suburb with its new Jesuskirke (in Valby), Ussing collected several other clergy and laymen—notably the economist

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and statistician, Harald Westergaard (1853–1936), a good friend of John Ludlow (1821–1911), the founder with Charles Kingsley (1819–75) and F. D. Maurice (1805–72), of Anglican Christian Socialism—as the ‘Ring’, or ‘Friends of the Church’ (Kirkens venner) in Copenhagen (Kirkesagen). Gathered congregations run by a committed core of professing believers (menighedskerne), reminiscent of those in the temple at Jerusalem (Acts 2: 4) aimed to win back a godless city for the church.797 Ussing and his friends also pioneered the building of small and cheap congregational churches—the first transportable iron church was consecrated in 1892—and the division of urban parishes. The Copenhagen Church Fund (Det københavnske Kirkefond, 1896), with Westergaard as one of its directors, aimed to raise enough capital by free-will offerings to provide one church staffed by two clergy for every 10,000 city parishioners. Some fifty churches were built, which resulted in a fairly successful reduction of parish size: one church (two clergy) to 20,000 parishioners in 1880 dropped in 1911 to one for 11,000.798 In contrast to the old parishes in the city centre, these new gathered parishes in working-class suburbs served by a new Indre Mission generation of clergy from a similar background preaching a need for a believing congregation (menighedssamfund) serving Christ as Lord, and with a common discipline of selected elders with elected deacons for charitable work, district mission, district Sunday school, and press, posed a relatively successful alternative Christianity. If this lay evangelicalism was fairly chaotic in various kinds of charity work and socials such as coffee mornings, by 1900 it did become an important new moral, even middle-class, force; especially with the takeover of the Danish YMCA and YWCA, and its organization of camps, excursions, festivals, and sport. Copenhagen suburban youth regained a little Christianity. Allowing for national differences in a new national-minded age, a similar evangelical spirit which embraced good works was abroad in Berlin and Stockholm. Adolf Stoecker (1835–1909), appointed by Rudolf Kögel (1829–96), the senior court chaplain since 1873, who, in the spirit of Martensen's loyal church politics, had founded a ‘Positive Union’ (1872) to retain loyalty to Prussian church establishment, as the junior (fourth) court chaplain in 1874 at the height of the Kulturkampf, personified an overtly self-conscious moral code of

797

P. Helveg-Larsen (ed.), ‘Kirkens Venner's’ Korrespondance.

798

C. Gad, Et Storværk: Københavns Kirkesag gennem 80 år ; Lindhardt, 161–4.

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dressing and living according to one's social rank. His experience of modern industrial poverty in the poor mining community at Hamersleben (1871–5), his belief shared with Kögel that the Prussian Landeskirche was too old-fashioned to tackle industrial poverty in Berlin, and his realization that Wichern's Innere Mission was out of date in a city where the register office (1875) had legalized some 80 per cent of marriages outside church and 40 per cent of unbaptized children, pushed him, with a like-minded Brandenburg superintendent, Rudolf Todt (1839–87), to a political Christian Socialism as the only way to combat Social Democracy.799 But their Christlich-soziale Arbeiterpartei (1878), in the overheated climate of Bismarck's Anti-Socialist Law, was a dismal failure. As a renamed Christian Socialist Party, and supported by a Mittelstand constituency called to be loyal to Protestant monarchy, it played an integrative role similar to that of contemporary Indre Mission in Denmark. A major difference in the strained atmosphere of a faltering Kulturkampf, the Anti-Socialist Law, and Bismarck's conservative turn of politics, was Stoecker's political articulation of the equation that urban Liberalism in alliance with a mobile secular middle-class Judaism represented by an entrepreneur such as Gerson Bleichröder (1822–93), Bismarck's banker, was a fundamental threat to a Protestant moral order. At the time, this proved—to use William II's phrase for Christian Socialism—a ‘nonsense’, but like its counterpart in Catholic Vienna, it set an ominous precedent. City mission in Stockholm was to a considerable extent an import of Copenhagen's Kirkesagen. Almost in a flash, in 1900, the secular city caused an identity crisis amongst parish clergy who found it very difficult to switch from dependent rural home parishes to the new urban world of commercial and industrial joint-stock companies with their distinction between employers and workers, and wage settlements.800 Remnants of the old patriarchal communal order were strong even in the capital. Until 1880, Stockholm apprentices still lived and shared meals with their masters; board and lodging was considered part of their pay. On the other hand, young clergy were becoming aware that it was impossible to carry on a patriarchal system of masters and servants in new urban factories in Stockholm,

799

Kupisch, Stoecker: Hofprediger und Volkstribun, 77, 80; Todt's book, Der radikale Sozialismus und die christliche Gesellschaft (1877) was promptly put on an Index by the EOK.

800

B. Gustafsson, ‘1800-talets Svenska prästerskap och den brutna gemenskapen inom produktionslivet’, STK (1949), 91–112.

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PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

nearby Gävle, and the new timber-processing towns situated on the railway line running up the Bothnian coast to Sundsvall and beyond. How did one, given a new Socialist challenge, spread the Gospel? The same indecision about a balance between Gospel and good works arose as in Denmark. Congregational diacony entered the agenda of diocesan deanery meetings—notably in the Uppsala archdiocese (1891), at Västerås (1892), and Lund (1893)—in the decade 1890–1900.801 There were other models at home, though institutional diacony was run by a handful of staff and on a very small scale. Stockholm's Institute of Deaconesses (Ersta, 1853) under its chaplain, pastor Johan Christopher Bring (1829–98) after 1862, pioneered in the 1880s more intensive care of Stockholm's poor (eight sisters out of fifty in 1880; fifty-one out of 106 in 1900), as did the little Samariterhemmet in Uppsala (1882), caring for former prostitutes, domestics, orphans, and the needy under Ebba Boström (1844–1902) who had learnt much in London and Manchester during a visit of 1878–81. Nils Lövgren (1852–1920), rector of Gävle (1890–1900; bishop of Västerås thereafter), introduced the idea of a free-will offerings scheme (diakonikasse) and a board (diakoniråd) as a way of schooling town deacons, introduced poor care on the Elberfeld model, divided clergy care into districts in the same way, called for parish services in the suburban outskirts, involved those interested in the church in district and quarterly meetings, set up Sunday schools—similar ones appeared shortly thereafter in Stockholm, Uppsala, Örebro, Visby, and Malmö—and consecrated the first congregational mission house at Bynäs (1896).802 The first church youth societies appeared in southern Hälsingland. Archbishop Sundberg called his clergy at Uppsala (1891) to combat in this way the spread of Social Democracy. But divisions about the best way to achieve this still stalled any quick response. The rapid growth of Stockholm in the 1880s, and the appearance of new suburbs such as Östermalm without any parish provision whatsoever pushed Stockholm's consistory to think of forming new parishes and building new churches, but respective parish councils

801

Rodhe, Svenska kyrkan omkring sekelskiftet, ch. 2.

802

Ibid. 64–7; the pioneering Swedish work on urban social mission using German models like Sulze by the Lund theologian, Olof Holmström (1854–1921), Om kyrklig fattigvård (Lund, 1892); Arner, Svenska kyrkans ställning til frågan om de fattigas vård, 205 passim.

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rejected the proposal in 1892 for fear of losing—notably in financial matters—their rights of decision. City clergy began to look at the new parishes and churches in Copenhagen's suburbs built by the voluntary system introduced by Copenhagen's Friends of the Church. A Society for the Promotion of Pastoral Care in the Capital (Sällskapet för främjande av kyrklig själavård i huvudstaden, 1897), whose novelty was reflected in its being renamed three times between 1893 and 1897, established by young clergy and pious middle-class citizens, began, as in Copenhagen, to collect money to pay clergy to work in working-class areas.803 Peter Krag's account of his ten years' ministry at St James in Copenhagen (Församlingsliv) published in translation as a pamphlet sold by the periodical Vårt Land, and a translation of Ussing's book on pastoral care in large cities, Kirkens arbejde i de store Byer with a preface by Lövgren, became popular; Ussing attended a Scandinavian mission meeting in Stockholm in 1897. Copenhagen's voluntary financing of new parishes and churches took hold after 1898; one new parish followed after the other: the consecration of the St Stephan chapel in 1904 on the boundary between St James and St John parishes; in 1906, Oscar and Engelbrekt parishes were divided (Oskarskyrkan consecrated 1903, Engelbrektskyrkan 1914); in Adolf Fredrik in the face of much vocal municipal opposition, division took place in 1906, and two new churches, Gustav Vasa and St Matthew, were consecrated; Katarina and Kungsholm gained new churches: Sofiakyrkan (1906) and St Göran (1910). Provision of city parish clergy was increased (1900–10) by some 50 per cent.804 A similar social-minded Christianity took hold in the university cities, Uppsala and Lund, after 1890. All of this was symptomatic of a more concerted national pastoral effort in the decade before war broke out. Copenhagen's initiative continued too as a fruitful influence through visits by clergy such as Friis Hansen, Ussing, Carl Moe (see above; chairman of the Indre Mission 1915–27), Olfert Ricard (1872–1929), the influential secretary of Copenhagen's YMCA (1896–1908), and another Copenhagen supporter of Anglican Christian Socialism, Hans Koch (1867–1949), priest in Hellerup (1901–5, 1909–11), editor of the Copenhagen Church Fund's paper, Plovfuren (1911–17). They attended a conference held in the autumn 1901 uniting some 1,300 clergy and laity.805 A new free newspaper attached to Vårt Land,

803

Rodhe, chs. 2 and 12.

804

Ibid. 79.

805

Ibid. 340–1.

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Församlingsbladet (1902), publicized this new diacony and congregationalism (see Epilogue). Other conferences in 1904 and 1908 led to the formation of a national committee and a central office. But, after separation from Norway in 1905, this initiative became more of a Swedish national church matter under bishop Eklund of Karlstad (after 1907), who disliked the influence of Copenhagen's Indre Mission (Epilogue). The division of the huge Härnösand diocese into two bishoprics, Härnosand and Luleå in 1904, and the amalgamation of the old Växjö and Kalmar sees with Växjö as residence in 1913–14 was a sign of modern pastoral times. J. C. Bring's successor, Ernst Lönegren (b. 1862) was appointed bishop of Härnösand in 1908—a sign of more socially aware times.

III. Albrecht Ritschl (1822–1889) and His Practical Theology If one could single out one theologian who gave hope to a new generation of clergy, it was Karl Benjamin Ritschl's son. Our times since 1945 have not been kind to him. Karl Barth's description of Ritschl as ‘the representative nationalliberal burgher of Bismarck's age’ is malicious, though understandable, perhaps, in the light of the way Barth's mentors gave in to belligerence in 1914; Rolf Schäfer's view that Ritschl's theology ‘has almost disappeared without trace’ is nearer the truth; but we are liable to forget the immense influence Ritschl wielded on a clergy generation in office in Germany and Scandinavia—in Sweden especially—between 1890 and 1918.806 Troeltsch, a student (1886–8) of Ritschl when professor of systematic theology at Göttingen after 1864, wrote of the authority, dignity, and moral force which won him and many other doubters over to this ‘completely unromantic, indeed unpoetic man’.807 But Ritschl's sobering intellect was only a part of his fame. Harnack, who began a close friendship c. 1877 while at Leipzig, was nearer to the mark: Ritschl's novelty consisted in presenting a unified, luminous (helle) theology, and a perspicacity to see that Christian and profane history based on honest source-based work could enrich each other.808 A modern, unconditional, historical re-evaluation of the Reformation opened the way to the return to the Early Church. Ritschl's Protestantism, a demonstration of its spiritual unity

806

Barth, Protestantische Theologie im 19. Jahrhundert, ii. 564 passim; Schäfer, Ritschl: Grundlinien eines fast verschollenen Systems (1968).

807

Cited Drescher, Troeltsch, 21.

808

Zahn-Harnack, Adolf von Harnack, 64.

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nourished by his rediscovery of justification and atonement in contrast to Catholic authority, helped congregations to apply providential faith to the problems of daily existence. His system was also an uncompromising one in the troubled new German nation-state. In many ways Ritschl shared Spalding's attitudes: his defence of the clergy office—though Ritschl, like his father, stood for the Union which respected Lutheran and Reformed tradition; his insistence on a humane pastoral office of caring moral enlightenment; his rejection of Pietist sentiment and one-sidedness; and a rounded prose, which like Bismarck's, is still good to exercise one's language skills upon. How different ‘Ritschlianism’ was to contemporary revivalism of the kind just described; its otherness as a modern theology was soon seen as a serious threat by evangelicals. Ritschl owed much of his Protestant catholicity to a loving father, whose youth spent in Luther's Catholic Erfurt had taught him a pastoral live-and-let-live, and who followed every step of his youngest son's theological development between the extremes of Neo-Orthodoxy and Neo-Hegelianism at Tholuck's Halle (1841–3) and a too extreme historical criticism at Baur's Tübingen (1845). Family musicianship was influential too. Though not quite so gifted as his two elder brothers, Ritschl, who sang first tenor in one of Halle's new Singvereine which revived Bach's motets (he loved especially ‘Jesu, meine Freude’ BWV 358), was one of a select few to understand Bach's ability to set Lutheran doctrine to music.809 Ritschl, like his father, also disliked pedantic official Prussian church bureaucracy. This only served to enhance his reputation amongst Göttingen's ordinands. He left Bonn in 1864 annoyed by von Mühler's pedestrian church politics, and four times (1872–4) turned down promotion consisting of a Berlin professorship and membership of the EOK offered by Emil Herrmann. The spirit of ‘party’ in Hanover and Berlin was not to Ritschl's liking either. Ritschl possessed a self-deprecating irony, as did his disciple, Harnack. Both could relish a story about Pope Benedict XIV told by the aged Döllinger to Ritschl while on holiday at Tegernsee in August 1881: at the celebration of High Mass at the patronal festival of a nunnery in Bologna led by his sister, the nuns sang the finest mass very sweetly until the words of the Creed, ‘genitum, non factum’,

809

Otto Ritschl, Albrecht Ritschls Leben, i. 80–1; Ritschl's brothers Georg (1816–66) an allround musician, botanist, and secondary schoolteacher in Posen, and Wilhelm (1819–80) a fine pianist, vicar of Marienthal near Balm, Pomerania.

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which they stumbled over, and repeated again and again; at which point the pope turned round from the high altar and interrupted their singing with a loud ‘sive genitum, sive factum, pax vobiscum’.810 The timing of Ritschl's three volumes on Justification and Reconciliation (Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung, 1870–4) was both timely and untimely in view of the Syllabus, the onward march of scientific positivism at Göttingen university, the pronouncement of Infallibility, and the Kulturkampf. Religion, for Ritschl, cannot be reduced to other forms of human experience. Faith is not based on a series of facts, but on the making of value judgements (Werturtheile) using a historical evaluation of the sources to return to the New Testament via the Reformation. A radical Christocentrism, revelation through Jesus as God's Son, is the basis of all religious knowledge, and authoritative for the ethics of Christian conduct: Christ preached to the Christian community and not to individuals; human redemption is achieved within the Christian community for which Christ died. For Ritschl, there could thus be no sharing in Bernardine mystical experience, Cluniac or Gregorian ascesis that he had learnt through reading Harnack on Monasticism (1881), or Anabaptist, Puritan, or Pietist rejection of this world. Atonement through the work and suffering of Christ which gives faith, and trust in Divine providence, is the basis for a Christian's moral action consisting of patience, humility, and prayer in civic society. But prayer is sacrifice: a decision to acknowledge God; thanksgiving and devotion balancing the ‘tension of desire’. Prayer is not Pietist one-sided petitionary prayer expressed by the German noun Bittgebet, and verb, beten; the prayer of the disciples was a collection of wishes, a corporate act, in St Paul's words: ‘Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you’ (1 Thessalonians 5: 16–18; also Hebrews 13: 15). It is essential to return to the sources close to the time of the founding of the Christian church.811 Ritschl therefore rejected both the Neo-Lutheran interpretation of God as a lawgiver and judge of sinful mankind in the manner of Stahl's civil law—using the historical Luther, early and late, and the

810

To Harnack, Tegernsee, 29 Aug. 1881, cited ibid. ii. 375.

811

The Christian Doctrine of Justification and Reconciliation, iii. ch. 9: Ritschl had read Harnack, Das Mönchthum: Seine Ideale und seine Geschichte (2nd edn. Giessen, 1882). Catholic, Puritan, and Pietist ascesis: A. Ritschl, Pietismus, i. 1–98; Zinzendorf: O. Ritschl, Albrecht Ritschls Leben, i. 324–5, ii. 469–74.

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differences between Luther and Melanchthon against them—and modern theological accommodation (Vermittlung) with secular philosophic ideals that were being taught in Göttingen's lecture halls. But above all, Ritschl derided the preaching of immediate personal religious experience by contemporary Neo-Pietist revivalists: especially the view (also held by Baptists and Methodists) that the assurance of salvation was dependent on the ability to supply the date and exact circumstances of personal regeneration in a correct order.812 His own lengthy, very subjective, but still informative three-volume History of Pietism (1880–6) charged Pietists (including Moravians) with an undue attention to a personal religious state, tacit or open condemnation of neighbours for their hedonism and unbelief: in short, the same paradoxical arrogant humility associated with medieval monasticism which narrowed the significance of the Church catholic. Pietism was escapist (weltflüchtig); the Christian social order was an order into which one was born for better or for worse: with it came a Christian responsibility for moral action (welterfüllend) at a time of radical rural and urban change.

IV. A Pastorate for Modern Times Ritschl's reinterpretation of Christian conduct was thus more of a powerful moral leaven, a liberating moral force for young clergy at the turn of the German and Scandinavian nineteenth century, than a distinctive and successful modern theological school with which it is usually associated. Its equation with an elastic ‘liberal’ or ‘modern’ theology can be misleading, though Ritschl's ‘value judgements’ informed Harnack's patristic scholarship and Christology, Troeltsch's typological Social Teaching of the Christian Churches (1912) written in opposition to Harnack's historicist What is Christianity? (1900), and even the young Nathan Söderblom (1866–1931) in his championship of modern biblical and religious history, and his plea for a Swedish church for the times, if a continuous deep-seated conflict with the assumptions he inherited from his Hälsingland Pietist pastoral ancestry is kept in view. ‘Ritschlianism’ was in essence one of the most powerful agents shaping a modern German practical theology which finally came of age in 1900. Its chief

812

Ritschl, Justification and Reconciliation, iii. 654.

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features consisted of a modern homiletics and pastoral care which actively addressed urban and rural deprivation. This was a clergy generation which ‘did’. But there were other important forces at work in the decade 1890–1900 which shaped, but also divided, a concerted Protestant pastoral response. Berlin, Dresden, and other senior consistories in 1890 emphasized, for the first time, remarkably enough in official addresses, the urgent need for pastoral care expressed two centuries earlier (spezielle Seelsorge; Ch. 7).813 It would consist of visits to family homes, Sunday schools, support of diacony and the Innere Mission, a pastoral church press, more congegrational involvement in parish meetings and association—even the first Protestant Workingman's Associations (the first Arbeiterverein was established in Gelsenkirchen, 1882)—a division of over-large parishes, and an increase in clergy posts. Stoecker and several like-minded conservative Christian Socialists, supporters of Kögel's ‘Positive Union’, in the wake of William II's call for Protestant social action, thought the time ripe for a Evangelisch-Soziale Kongreβ (ESK): a national forum uniting clergy with historians, lawyers, economists, and social engineers, which initiated Protestant social politics and social ethics. But, after the inaugural meeting at Berlin in the week after Whitsun, 27–9 May 1890—it met thereafter annually in different industrial cities until 1945—it was rapidly commandeered by the ‘social’ Christianity of informal Ritschlian circles of clergy and upper-middle class laymen such as the ‘Friends’ of the Christliche Welt, founded in 1887 by one of Harnack's Leipzig pupils, Martin Rade (1857–1940). Between 1902 and 1912, the ESK met under Harnack's chairmanship; thereafter until 1920 under a like-minded practical theologian, Otto Baumgarten (1858–1934), the son of Hermann Baumgarten, Max Weber's cousin.814 Baumgarten, a keen sportsman, and an admirer of Herder's critical pastorate, was one of the pioneers of a modern, warm-hearted congregationalism, chaplain to the Versailles peace delegation, and a resolute opponent of post-1918 German anti-Semitism.

813

Both Berlin and Hanover senior consistories, in their appeals (17 Apr. and 25 Aug. 1890) for social action by clergy emphasized ‘spezielle Seelsorge’: Huber and Huber, iii. nos. 306, 308.

814

Ibid. iii. 706–13; Rade et al. Rathje, Welt des freien Protestantismus: M. Rade, ‘Vor 50 Jahren’ in J. Herz (ed.), Evangelisches Ringen um soziale Gemeinschaft: 50 Jahre Evangelisch-sozialer Kongreβ (Leipzig, 1940).

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Both Christliche Welt and ESK opposed (but not without much internal strife—to be expected from so many strongwilled and distinguished academic personalities) Stoecker's politicized evangelism, and the Protestantenverein which they stamped as an exclusive liberal fraternity. Important, too, was the rise of a new social ethics which used the tabulation provided by the new statistics. Particularly influential was Oettingen's Neo-Lutheran two-volume Moral Statistics and Christian Ethics (1868–73)—the third revised edition (1882) used the term ‘social ethics’ for the first time—which attempted, while cognizant of the problems surrounding new, perhaps faulty methods of gathering statistics, to measure the intensity of the religious way of life and churchgoing.815 Parish custom, Sitte, became an important avenue of inquiry; new morality leagues established themselves; new periodicals such as Volkskunde and Ethik began (both in 1900). If this measurement became bracketed increasingly with inquiries into sexual morals after 1900 (so Rade thought in 1906), it did inform the first studies and inquiries sponsored by men such as Georg Friedrich Knapp (1842–1926), professor of statistics and agrarian history at Strasburg University (1874–1918), and Max Weber, in the Verein für Sozialpolitik (1873), and ESK (also the Innere Mission), into the East Elbian and Livonian manorial systems, rural labour and rural parish morals.816 But, as could be expected, in a very fragile new world of Protestant social debate, heated opinions divided over the degree of Protestant accommodation with modern social policy, and an SPD which preached a private religion. The social gospel was all too eagerly taken up by a new surplus university cohort of ordinands, many of whom warmed to Ritschlian practical theology. Social and ethical inquiries such as Weber's which called for the break-up of large East Elbian estates into peasant smallholdings at the fifth

815

Measurement problems: Oettingen, Die Moralstatistik und christiche Sittenlehre (1882 rev. edn.), 612 passim ; Frey, Theologische Fakultät Dorpat-Jurjev, 188–93, s.v. ‘Oettingen’; G. Linnenbrink, ‘Die Sozialethik Alexander von Oettingens: Die Moralstatistik und ihre Bedeutung für den Entwurf einer christlichen Sittenlehre’, Ph.D. diss. (Münster, 1961); see n. 10 above.

816

G. F. Knapp, Die neuen Ansichten über Moralstatistik (Jena, 1871); ‘Zur Geschichte norddeutscher Gutswirthschaft’ (1874), in his Agrarhistorische Abhandlungen (Leipzig, 1880), i: Strasburg published theses he supervised: Fuchs, Untergang des Bauernstandes und das Aufkommen der Gutsherrschaften: Vorpommern und Rügen (1888); Transehe-Roseneck, Gutsherr und Bauer in Livland im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (1890).

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meeting of the ESK (1894), proved much too controversial. In regions of German manorial landownership, this happened only in the three new Baltic republics, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania after 1920–2.817 New Protestant Workingman's Associations, despite divisions between the more conservative Rhine-Westphalian and more progressive southern German associations, had grown into a formidable national organization (Gesamtverein) uniting some 350 local branches and 80,000 members in 1896 (in 1915: 172,000). Prussian clergy were thus banned officially from political activity within five years (December 1895) of official approval of clergy involvement in ‘social politics’, and the surplus of eager ordinands was subjected by law to a further year's practical supervision (Lehrvikariat, 15 August 1898).818 A more or less inevitable split over the ambiguous mix of Christianity with Marxist Socialism opened in the various parties varying between evangelical and social-Christianity positions in the new plural associational world of Protestant social politics as happened in Denmark, and latterly in Sweden. Notable cases which led to resignation in the environment of the Prussian 1895 ban, were those of the Saxon pastor, Naumann (Ch. 16), and another lively young Saxon pastoral malcontent who followed a similar path, Paul Göhre (1864–1928). Naumann personified, as a parish clergyman (Langenburg 1886–90) and Innere Mission pastor thereafter in Frankfurt and southwestern Germany, and as a young Christian Socialist ‘Turk’ in the ESK, the difficulties of Protestant (Gottes-) Hilfe—to use the title of a magazine he began in 1895—which mixed evangelical and social.819 He resigned his office in 1896, and went into the even more ambiguous world of national-social (he established with Göhre the abortive National Social Association, 1896–1903, a party of social reform reflecting, in Göhre's words, all ‘small people’—how close this association was to Copenhagen's Indre Mission!) and progressive liberal party-politics. Göhre early

817

Mommsen, Max Weber und die deutsche Politik, 20 passim. Land reform's significance in the post-war Baltic states; Hope, ‘Interwar Statehood: Symbol and Reality’ (ch. 2), in G. Smith (ed.), The Baltic States: The National Self-Determination of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania (London, 1994), 47–8.

818

‘Gesetz betr. Anstellungsfähigkeit und Vorbildung der Geistlichen’, Huber and Huber, iii. 728.

819

Naumann published Sunday thoughts rather like Zschokke did in his magazine; P. Theiner, Sozialer Liberalismus und deutsche Weltpolitik: Friedrich Naumann im Wilhelminischen Deutschland 1860–1919 (Baden-Baden, 1983).

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earned a black mark as a young curate who infiltrated the factory shop-floor; dared to publish his experience pseudonymously as the very popular Three Months in a Factory (1891); supported Weber (as secretary of the ESK after 1891) in his critical inquiry into East Elbian labour; and as a pastor who tried to establish new Arbeitervereine in Frankfurt an der Oder (1894–7). The wrath of his superiors led swiftly to his resignation, a brief alliance with Naumann (1896–9), and eventual membership of the SPD in 1900; a choice which brought disciplinary proceedings by Berlin's city synod, and his unfrocking in 1901. But these times were not only about church parties and their conflicts over Protestant social policy and ethics. Pastoral care, preaching, and forms of worship in historic Reformation parishes, particularly as vast unplanned city congregations, were finally reshaped by parish clergy and practical theologians who attended and supported the ESK. They approached the parish congregation (Gemeinde) directly. A pioneer, and one who shaped debate about the nature of modern urban gathered parishes after 1945, was the Saxon, Emil Sulze (1832–1914), a pastor in industrial Chemnitz (1872–6), and Dresden-Neustadt (1872–99). Sulze realized that a parish such as Dresden-Neustadt containing some 60,000 parishioners shaped by the values of Dresden's liberal middle-class laissez faire culture, the new register office and citizenship legislation of 1875, and a popular Saxon SPD, rubbished pastoral vocation and any sense of Christian fellowship. Families could simply avoid any church influence whatsoever by beginning with a new ‘state education’; pastoral care had become the social work of municipal authorities. Preaching to empty pews was more or less all that was left to parish clergy. In Die evangelische Gemeinde (Gotha, 1891; 2nd edn. 1912), read with great interest by Copenhagen and Stockholm clergy, Sulze divided unplanned urban mass parishes into gathered district congregations; a mix of Wichern's Seelsorgergemeinden with Scottish quoad sacra parishes which Sulze had read about in Lechler's 1854 study (Ch. 18).820 Sulze fixed a district maximum (3,000–5,000) equipped

820

Lechler, Geschichte der Presbyterial-Synodalverfassung seit der Reformation, cited Die evangelische Gemeinde, 38 passim. Lechler: see ch. 18. RE (1899), s.v. ‘Gemeinde’; TRE, s.v. ‘Gemeinde I’; Eberhard Winkler, Die Gemeinde und ihr Amt (Stuttgart, 1973), 25 passim. Sulze's views were taken up in the first Protestant Gemeindetag at Dresden (1901), and in the new Konferenz für evangelische Gemeindearbeit at Brunswick (1910), Grünberg, Die evangelische Kirche etc., 160–4.

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with pastor and a lay presbytery (twenty practising elders in a district of 5,000 meant that each looked after some 250 parishioners) mixing reciprocal pastoral care and diacony. Sulze naturally argued for a modern church architecture: modern congregationalism raised the issue of an appropriate venue. Splendid historic city churches should be complemented in modern suburbs by cheap congregational churches (Gemeindekirche) lacking a division between medieval choir and nave (Meßkirche). In this way, Bähr's Dresden church architecture and Semper's abortive modern plans were finally revived in several functional city churches built after the second Tag für Kirchenbau held at Dresden in 1906.821 Another advocate of a manageable urban Gemeinde was Grünberg himself; though he argued in his popular account of Protestant church organization and work in large cities (1910) that Sulze failed to take sufficient account of a division between Lutheran and Reformed congregations in cities such as Bremen, Frankfurt am Main, Leipzig, and Strasburg, modern urban mobility, different suburban social milieus, the challenge to Protestant congregationalism posed by a plurality of urban social, occupational, and leisure organizations, and the way parishioners in gathered congregations tended to opt for the clergyman they liked.822 Many, therefore, escaped the gathered congregational net; pastors became competitors in a plural urban environment of richer and poorer parishes: clergymen should not have to collect and educate their congregation, but be able to work in an established parish framework: it was important for congregations to have a sense of the whole. Financing gathered congregations was problematic in 1910 too: thirty or fifty years ago mission houses in cities had been financed and built by Innere Mission voluntary collections, but in the secular urban order there was a real need for professional financial organization. Grünberg suggested an element of ‘territory’: the Lokalgemeinde visible already in Elberfeld (1889), Karlsruhe (1891), Brunswick (1894), Mülhausen (Alsace, 1896), Breslau (1897), Lübeck (1898), Frankfurt am Main (1899), and Mannheim (1900).823 In this way, local congregations could be linked to the larger framework of established city parishes. They should remain responsible for legal and

821

Sulze, Die evangelische Gemeinde, 127, 210, 218, 271.

822

Grünberg, Die evangelische Kirche etc., 24 passim ; Spenerian pastoral care: ibid. 13–14, 93–4.

823

Ibid. 27.

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liturgical matters; for financial affairs such as the clergyman's stipend (very important at a time when occasional fees and free-will offerings were being abolished by the new system of church tax), personnel (the organist and verger), and maintenance (heating, cleaning, repairs); Protestant church association (from mission and youth work to altar paraments); and a church press. Above all, Grünberg argued for a professional clergy which maximized its pastoral role: Sulze's target ratio (I: 3,000), still implied annually about fifty sermons, a hundred baptisms, twenty-five marriages, seventy burials, seventy-five confirmands, and pastoral visits to c.800 families.824 The number of active clergy should be doubled (in 1910, forty large cities, each with some fifteen clergy, gave a ratio of I: 5,000–6,000); there should be less emphasis on rank defined by learning and experience (senior, pastor, archdeacon, deacon, chief and auxiliary preachers); clergy should know the modern city and congregation and not be content with the cosy environment of the university town; stipends should be commensurate with a reasonable living standard—say a rise from 4,000 to 7,000 marks, equal to a district judge (Amtsrichter) or secondary school-teacher (Oberlehrer).825 These arguments were the product of a modern practical theology initiated by theologians, often of Ritschlian persuasion, who mixed theology and parish work: in popular Saxon Leipzig, and notably at Marburg, whose theology faculty blossomed in its Prussian period (summer term 1866: 77 students; 1888: 241; 1914: 309), under Ernst Christian Achelis (1838–1912), professor of practical theology after 1882, and nearby Giessen under the Saxon, Paul Gottfried Drews (1858–1912), and the Silesian, Martin Schian (1869–1944), as successive professors of practical theology (1901–8; 1908–24). Harnack was an influential presence both at Giessen (1879–86) and Marburg (1886–8). Troeltsch's Heidelberg under Friedrich Niebergall (1866–1932), professor of practical theology (1908–22), and restored Strasburg, serving the new Reichsland Alsace-Lorraine, under the Westphalian, Julius Smend (1857–1930), professor of practical theology after 1893, were equally influential new centres of modern pastoral churchmanship. These faculties and their ordinands initiated a re-evaluation of the

824

Ibid. 103.

825

Ibid. 112.

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history of the Reformation, the Landeskirchen, liturgy, homiletics, and ecclesiology, which appeared for the first time in the standard theological reference works: the third edition of RE (1896–1913), edited by the church historian Albert Hauck (1845–1918), and after 1918 in the substantial overhaul of RGG as a revised second edition (1927–32: see Epilogue). Achelis translated his hard pastoral experience of alien factory suburbs in his native Reformed Bremen (1860–75) and industrial Westphalian Unterbarmen (1875–82) into a modern practical theology at Marburg; particularly as a modern apologetics which opposed the spread of liberal secularist values, and looked towards a separation of church and modern state. Achelis was lucky in having one of Ritschl's most brilliant pupils, Wilhelm Herrmann (1846–1922), professor of systematic theology (1879–1917), as a colleague. Both men, and Marburg's theology faculty as a whole, were close to Rade, and sponsored his Christliche Welt; Herrmann as the leading theological voice of the faculty, together with Harnack, lent—in Ritschl's (and Achelis's) apologetic sense—much moral force to the ESK congresses of 1894, 1902, and 1903.826 Achelis's modern practical theology, Lehrbuch (1898–1911) with its more popular summary Grundriss (1893; sixth edition, 1912), became standard modern repertoire for a generation of ordinands. Drews, a Leipzig pupil of Harnack, a convinced Ritschlian, a good friend of Rade, co-editor of Christliche Welt, as a professor of practical theology at Jena (1894), Giessen (1901), and Halle (1908), popularized the modern pastoral course his mentors had called for. Novel was his appropriation of Claus Harms's and Schleiermacher's term, Kirchenkunde, for a mix of statistics, ethnology, German ecclesiastical history since the Reformation, and liturgical and homiletic history (Drews wrote sixteen liturgical articles in RE), as the core of this training.827 Drews also edited a handy textbook series on the major German Landeskirchen: contributing his own on Saxony (1902), Silesia (1903), Baden (1907), Bavaria (1909), Thuringia (1910), Lower Saxony (1917), and Württemberg (1919). It was a

826

Herrmann's Ritschlian ‘The Moral Teachings of Jesus’ read at the Darmstadt (1903) congress was revised and enlarged as Die sittlichen Weissagungen Jesu (Göttingen, 1904): Welch, Protestant Thought in the Nineteenth Century, ii. 240–2. See A. Harnack and W. Herrmann, Essays on the Social Gospel, trans. G. M. Craik and M. A. Canney (London, 1907).

827

RE Ergänzungsband, s.v. M. Schian, ‘Kirchenkunde’; TRE, s.v. ‘Drews, Paul’. Drews also initiated the new Monatschrift für Pastoraltheologie (1901–).

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series which at last gave a more comprehensive view of a complex whole (Ch. 10), and it revived an interest in European sister churches in a similar series Kirchenkunde des evangelischen Auslandes after 1910.828 Schian was equally influential at Giessen after 1908: he wrote the second volume (on Silesia) in Drews's series, and likewise propagated church history and a knowledge of the contemporary church as the best preparation for a modern pastorate. Schian published the official two-volume history of Germany's Protestant churches in the First World War (1921–5) covering both home and battlefront (see Epilogue), An equally important mentor who developed the idea of a modern pastorate was Niebergall at Heidelberg (after 1922 at Marburg). It was he who formulated the first really convincing modern homiletics for the different congregational milieus of large commercial and industrial cities, traditional small home towns, and a countryside in the process of being reshaped by modern capitalist and urban values. Niebergall's three-volume homiletics, Wie predigen wir den modernen Menschen? (1902–21), complemented by his very popular pastoral guides—twenty-seven by 1926–7—in his Praktischtheologische Handbibliothek (1904), and his two-volume Praktische Theologie (1918), revealed new horizons for many young ordinands.829 Niebergall argued that it was no use preaching in the dogmatic style of the age before 1870; modern values were relative values; situational themes drawn from daily life (Kasualpredigt) interested modern congregations; Drews's Kirchenkunde helped to make congregations aware of the chequered history of Reformation churches and the realities of modern Protestant church life; the sermon was a dialogue between preacher and congregation; colloquial idiom rather than art forms and rhetoric held the attention; cheap circulation was useful: even the conservative pastor, Stoecker, had success with weekly penny-farthing sermons (Pfennigpredigten) rising to a circulation of c. 130,000.830 On the other hand, even taking into account the times, modern Bible scholarship, and scientific advance, the biblical sermon still remained the biblical sermon; there could be no concessions. This pre-war generation fashioned a very successful homiletics. It

828

Series published by Alfred Töpelmann, Giessen. Otto Dibelius (1880–1967), after 1925 general superintendent of the Kurmark, published on Scotland: Das kirchliche Leben Schottlands, iii (1911); still useful: Marcus Gjessing, Norwegische Kirchenkunde, ii (1910), and Edvard Rodhe, Schwedische Kirchenkunde, iv (1913).

829

RGG3, s.v, ‘Niebergall, Friedrich’.

830

Leiturgia ii. 336–40.

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may have been too subjective and personal—even contemporary critics fell out about how to interpret the sermons they wished to leave in print—but they spoke for a new generation of young clergy who put great emphasis on truth, honesty, and conviction in the service of the Christian congregation. They confronted the unresolved issue of ordained pericopes by devoting less attention to the interpretation of the set text, and stressing more its usefulness to pastoral work in a difficult congregational environment which no longer had much sense of Reformation doctrine or convention. The logical conclusion was a turning away from the obligation undertaken at ordination to preach the Gospel. This led in several cases to resignation, to the unfrocking of pastors such as Jatho and Traub (1911, 1912), and to preaching which, not so very surprisingly, became increasingly nationalist as the First World War wore on (see Epilogue). They were also a generation who saw pastoral work consisting of Bible hours, family prayers, parish meetings, and mission in the modern workplace as an extension of their preaching. A modern commentator has written of a ‘move towards the congregation’ which has not been achieved either before or since.831

V. A Suitable Protestant Congregational Liturgy, Church Music, and Church Architecture By 1914 revised liturgies had appeared in almost all German Landeskirchen, in Sweden, and in Norway. Their distinguishing feature was their formulation and authorization by the new constitutional church organs (Ch. 18)—in Germany the Eisenach conference often acted as guide—with little input from rulers and relevant ministries for church affairs; hence the string of cases about deviations from accepted Christian teaching in the decade before 1914 (see Epilogue). Active participation by the congregation in public worship became very gradually more important. If Protestant ecclesiology was shaped generally by an ill-informed romantic fashion for heritage and history in the century before 1914, it created an environment where a professional historical approach did emerge after 1850. The historical approach started to lift the restrictive emotional hand of the past, and opened a path towards freer and

831

Alfred Niebergall, ibid. 338.

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cheaper forms of congregational churchmanship which appeared as ways of overcoming the twin challenge of a rising evangelical churchmanship visible as a widespread mission-house ecclesiology, and the urban pastoral crisis at the turn of the century. The restrictive Neo-Gothic norm laid down in the Eisenach Regulativ (1861), dividing choir and nave, was replaced by the Wiesbadener Programm's (1891) congregational nave. Better dialogue between local church synods via the Eisenach conference. Eisenach's sponsorship of national meetings mixing specialists such as liturgists and church architects as happened at the first two congresses on Protestant church architecture in Berlin (1894) and Dresden (1908), and a new pastoral-minded generation of clergy in office, speeded up a development which put Protestant worship increasingly in the hands of church congregations in the decade before war broke out in 1914. If rites had still to be approved by a ruler and his ministers, the new synods and presbyteries and new practical theology were really beginning to determine the content and shape of a congregational liturgy. Even what began as Neo-Lutheran repristination of Reformation liturgical formulae, proved fruitful, both as the provider of a heady debate about the shape of a Protestant liturgy, and as a force, sometimes labelled ‘high’ churchmanship, which restored congregational responses, and a sense of Christian liturgical colour, festivity (Feier), to many parish churches. Its growing popularity in the last third of the nineteenth century bore out Herder's dictum that liturgical colour mattered still to the average parishioner.832 These developments, however much of a compromise they may have been in an urban environment where the parish church no longer played any influential role, were positive steps taken towards an understanding of the humble place of the Christian congregation in the modern plural and secular social order. In Germany, this new approach continued after 1918, only to be pushed underground by a Gadarene rush towards the parody of the Christian congregation propagated by National Socialism; in neutral Scandinavia there was more of a continuum between a similar novel ecclesiology which also began in the decade before 1914 and modernity associated with the Scandinavian middle way between private enterprise and collectivism which typified the inter-war period.

832

Cäcilia: Zerstreute Blätter 5 Sammlung (Gotha, 1793) = Werke xvi. 253–67.

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On the northern German liturgical map, the Prussian general synod revised in 1895 the controversial 1829 rite with a two-volume Agende für die Evangelische Landeskirche, which included congregational responses restored in 1856, and gave the choice of an Ordinarium for Lutheran churches, and a simpler Andere Form for Reformed churches. The revised rite was introduced without any element of coercion, and was quickly accepted everywhere, even in formerly querulous Silesia, where a new authorized hymn-book (1878) had replaced some fifty-nine in parish usage (thirty-five Silesian, thirteen Prussian, eleven non-Prussian).833 In the Rhineland and Westphalia, Julius Smend's service-book (1906) containing freer liturgical formulae became very popular. Hanover and Brunswick, liturgical churchscapes coloured until 1850 by freer enlightened formulae, received in the authorized Hanoverian order of Sunday worship and festivals (1901), a version of the Neo-Lutheran Ordinary and Proper which included more congregational responses contained in Petri's and Uhlhorn's private liturgies (1852, 1889).834 Saxony, which preserved the structure of the Formula Missae for longer than in any German state, gained in 1880 (revised in 1906), via its new synod, its first revised rite since 1580, a new hymn-book (1883), and new pericopes (1892). If this liturgy put much emphasis on the traditional Ordinary and Proper, a much larger degree of choice was given by the inclusion of many parallel formulae (four even for baptism). Revised liturgies appeared both semiofficially and officially in neighbouring Thuringian Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (1887), Reuss junior (1891), Weimar (1897), Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1901), and Reuss senior (1902). These were accompanied by new hymn-books: Weimar (1882) which replaced Herder's 1795 hymnal, Meiningen (1894, replacing an 1862 revision), Coburg and Gotha (1896), Altenburg (1900), Reuss senior (1908), and Reuss junior (1910). In southern Germany, the public liturgy was a much touchier subject in states where the principle of Lutheran, Reformed, and Union constitutional fair play coupled with strong Protestant and Catholic lay revivals and a NeoLutheran revival, overheated public argument about the shape of a Protestant liturgy and its relationship

833

Schian, Schlesien, 160.

834

Agende der hannoverschen Kirchenordnungen (1852); Agende nach den Ordnungen der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche der Provinz Hannover (1889).

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to Reformation liturgical forms. But this debate was marked not so much by a division into liberal and reactionary camps, as by a growing historical understanding—often shaped by Catholic and Neo-Lutheran models—of the Reformation liturgy. Revision was eventually implemented at the turn of the century by theologians and clergy schooled in the new practical theology. In liberal Baden, a passionate debate (Agendenstreit) broke out after the authorization of its 1829 Union rite. A revised Union rite (1836), was followed by a Lutheran service-book (Kirchenbuch, 1858), and a new service-book (1877) introduced in a divisive Badenese and Prussian Kulturkampf. An authorized hymn-book was eventually introduced in 1881/2 after long laborious work. A member of the 1834–41 commission bemoaned the fact that he had to drive out the devil at least forty times.835 Tempers never really cooled, but they were productive in shaping an awareness of the need to involve the congregation. Heidelberg's practical theology shaped Johannes Bauer's (1860–1930) draft servicebook (1912), and another more conservative version (1915), but there was no agreement until the publication of Bauer's 1912 draft in 1930—by then considered to be fifteen years out of date.836 In Württemberg, the shape of the liturgy was really a new subject for Swabian clergy and laity used to the simpler Lutheran Predigtgottesdienst. It was Grüneisen, his Stuttgart association promoting Christian art (1857), and the Christliches Kunstblatt (1858) he edited, who really opened a box of richer liturgical forms for Swabians, though no new liturgy appeared before a revised service-book in 1907, hymn-book and book of chorales in 1912 coloured by the new practical theology. New liturgical formulae raised knotty doctrinal issues for young modernist pastors: a twenty-year liturgical war (1891–1912) waged by modernist younger clergy—the cases of Schrempf (1891), and Steudel (1894)—who found it as difficult to subscribe to baptismal rubrics as a Rhineland pastor, Jatho (1912), to the Apostolic Creed (see Epilogue).837

835

Cited Ludwig, Baden, 96.

836

Bauer, associate professor of practical theology at Marburg (1900–7), full professor at Königsberg (1907–10), and at Heidelberg thereafter. Bauer's Kirchenbuch für die evangelisch-protestantische Kirche im Groβherzogtum Baden (1912); Kirchenbuch für die Vereinigte evangelisch-protestantische Landeskirche Badens (1930). F. Schulz, ‘150 Jahre Gottesdienst in Baden: Die agendarischen Ordnungen der Unionskirche’, in H. Erbacher (ed.), Vereinigte Evangelische Landeskirche in Baden 1821–1971 (Karlsruhe, 1971), 277.

837

Würster, Württemberg, 136–55.

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Perhaps the most influential nineteenth-century liturgy of the lot was south German. Löhe's Agende für die christlichen Gemeinden lutherischen Bekenntnisses (1844) aimed originally at the North-American Lutheran diaspora, the Agendenkern (1856) issued by Harleβ, and Harleβ's reintroduction of Reformation hymns in the 1854 authorized Bavarian Lutheran hymn-book, coupled with various Erlangen draft rites, became liturgical models for the German-American diaspora, Norway, and Sweden, which also drew heavily on Kliefoth's liturgical writing. The popularity of these liturgies rested on their restoration of a festive Ordinary which included congregational responses. At home, Erlangen theologians and Löhe began a major row, known as the Agendensturm, about a suitable public liturgy, which moved, owing to the strength of liberal opinion, in the direction of the freer choice provided in the revised Lutheran Bavarian rite (1879). This published two formulae for Sundays and festivals (revisions 1901, 1921, and 1932).838 The new palatinate Union church struggled equally hard after the authorization of its 1818 Ritus und Liturgie: a draft revision (1837) was thrown out; worse discord followed over a common hymn-book (1843); a revised service-book was finally agreed on in 1880, and complemented by a summary (1904). In Scandinavia, revision in Sweden was shaped by the mid-century debate in parliament, by diocesan clergy meetings divided between high-church Lund and low-church Uppsala views over the ‘enlightened’ 1811 service-book, by a movement reforming sacred song (Kyrkosångens Vänner), and the restoration of liturgical music (Musiken till Svenska Mässan, 1897). The new Ecclesiastical Council turned revision into reality in the 1894 service-book. However, by this time opinions amongst clergy divided into Lund and Uppsala camps, and a new Ritschlian lobby and a more powerful lay evangelical interest were too far apart for any lasting consensus. The new service-book reflected in fact the high churchmanship associated with Archbishops Reuterdahl and Sundberg and the apogee of Neo-Gothic church architecture (see below), and Uddo Lechard Ullman's (1837–1930; bishop of Strängnäs 1889–1927) variety of German liturgical models. These provided an authoritative emphasis on the Formula Missae served by a church art which Ullman called ‘a transparent vessel for the holy’ (‘ett genomskinligt käril för det

838

Agende für die evangelisch-lutherische Kirche in Bayern (1879); Max Herold's (see above) Passale and Vesperale (1887) were also included.

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heliga’).839 Special emphasis was placed on the centrality of the Bible; on festive worship consisting of a liturgical core Ordinary led from the altar—liberal-minded colleagues spoke of the altar's renaissance—and including more congregational responses; a restored church music, and firmer linkage to the Christian year.840 But revision opened rather than closed liturgical doors in a churchscape which seemed to change, even in an aesthetic sense, almost daily. Ordination vows to the Swedish church's articles of religion proved especially sensitive (further revision in 1903: see Epilogue); the confirmation rite was revised in 1899, but like the baptism rite, little was resolved before alternative formulae in 1920. Debate continued. Another version of the service-book was therefore published in 1917, but even that revision lacked general approval. In Norway, the question of replacing the old Danish 1685 Rite and altar-book raised by separation in 1814 was really answered in the period after 1860 when a sense of Norwegian church identity established itself.841 The old rite survived in two reprints (1825, 1863), and the altar-book in four (1826, 1862, 1879, and 1884). New hymn-books (1869, 1873), and two series of pericopes for Epistles and Gospels complementing the old ones (1886) prefaced a new revised rite for the main Sunday service (Høimesse-Liturgi, 1887), and altar-book (1889). Important to this liturgical revision was a widespread sense of liturgical impoverishment, meaning a lack of festive ritual colour and active congregational participation. Several Norwegian clergy had experienced the richer Neo-Lutheran liturgy which included active congregational responses at Erlangen in the period c. 1840–70.842 It was a direction which showed that congregational participation in a richer liturgy based on the Formula Missae could be as popular as a simpler modern vernacular congregational service of the kind valued by contemporary German practical theology. This was a reflection too of the way Protestant church music came back into its own between 1850 and 1914. Cultivation of a choral liturgy by new trained and salaried choirs, the reinstatement of the musical Ordinary and Proper with congregational responses, and the

839

Ullman, Evangelisk-luthersk liturgik (1874), i. 68.

840

Rodhe, Svenskt gudstjänstliv, 23–5. Helander, Liturgiska Utvecklingen i Sverige 1811–1894.

841

Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19.århundre, ii. 71–106.

842

Ibid. 92–3. W. R. Hesselberg and G. Jensen (eds.), Udkast til en forandret Høimesse-Liturgie (Christiania, 1883).

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rise of the historical approach were major features of a restoration which was of necessity piecemeal in churchscapes which lacked the necessary financial resources, and after 1815, the Reformation choral tradition provided by cantors. However, the remodelling of Berlin's cathedral choir in 1843 under Mendelssohn as a salaried choir with an annual budget laid the foundations for the best a cappella choir in the nineteenth century, and in turn, the cathedral choir made very successful publicity for a restored Protestant choral liturgy. But it was a choral liturgy which, until the turn of the century, was largely shaped by choral purists such as Winterfeld, Tucher, and Wackernagel, who praised the ‘noble simplicity’ of Reformation and Counter-Reformation church music in Germany and Italy (1500–1650). NeoLutherans such as Kliefoth and Löhe did much the same for their respective churchscapes. This dominance in contents and style resembled the contemporary architectural Neo-Gothic canon established by Gilbert Scott at Hamburg: the Eisenach conference's book of Protestant hymn melodies (Melodien des deutschen evangelischen Gesangbuchs, 1853), and its arrangement for organ and choir by Tucher (1854) complemented likewise Eisenach's architectural NeoGothic norm (1861).843 Particularly influential in the late nineteenth century was the Erlangen graduate, Ludwig Schöberlein (1813–81), professor of systematic and practical theology at Göttingen after 1855. He used his new seminar on liturgical music to publicize this style, and he composed appropriate new orders of service for Hanover's Schlosskirche, and Göttingen's university church. Using Winterfield as his model, Schöberlein also restored the choir, congregational antiphons, and hymns in Sunday parish worship, in a pioneering book on its liturgical structure (1859), and in a very popular Treasury (Schatz des liturgischen Chor- und Gemeindegesanges, 1865–72).844 Schöberlein's reinstatement of the Gregorian cantus firmus and antiphons shared by choir and congregation excluded all instrumental music, excepting organ—or perhaps trombone—and solo singing, on principle. His Treasury simply left out Schütz and Bach, with whom he associated—a sign of Neo-Lutheran times—‘subjectivity’ and concert music. Thus Berlin's cathedral choir provided the model for his professional Schlosskirchenchor at Hanover

843

‘Gemeindegesang, B. Evangelisch’ MGG col. 1673.

844

‘Kirchenmusik’, MGG Ergänzungsband, 16, cols. 986–7.

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(1857) funded by George V as patron, and similar choirs such as the Schlosschor at Schwerin (same year) and the Salzungen church choir in Saxony-Meiningen.845 Equally important was the second flowering in the period of national unification and church constitutionalism of voluntary lay male and mixed choral societies established in the 1820s (Ch. 17). The Swiss popular choirs, also the Catholic Cecilian Society (1868), were particularly influential in southern Germany.846 Württemberg led the way under Heinrich Adolf Köstlin (1846–1907), heir to a musical Tübingen family, army chaplain in France in 1870, and a representative of modern practical theology as deacon of Sulz. Köstlin championed good church choirs involving parishioners with his Protestant Kirchengesangverein (1877), and with the first popular Kirchengesangfest at Maulbronn the following year. Similar choral societies followed in 1879 in Hessen, Baden, the Bavarian Palatinate, and Frankfurt am Main; all were united in the Evangelischer Kirchengesangverein für Südwestdeutschland (1881) and its national successor (1883). In Livonia, the same process happened a decade earlier following further parish school reform (1849–51), and the emergence in 1860–70 of an ethnic cultural nationalism. Ethnic parish choirs and choral societies were established by a new élite of parish schoolmasters trained in parish choral music. They received a national focus in the first All-Estonian Song Festival at Tartu in 1869 organized by the cantor/schoolmaster J. V. Jannsen (1819–90), editor of the first Estonian newspaper, Eesti Postimees (The Estonian Postman, 1864), which united some 15,000 Estonians on the fiftieth anniversary of peasant emancipation.847 The last third of the nineteenth century was really a time when professional church musicianship came of age. This linked in a new urbanized culture a sense of history with performance and popularization. Symptomatic was the way Berlin's organists objected publicly in 1876 to their continued classification, since the Prussian Code, as lower church officials, and their organization of periodic weekday evening recitals along the lines of Lübeck's Marienkirche in city churches after 1864, moving to a weekly basis when the revised

845

In this tradition, Rochus von Liliencron (1820–1912), Chorordnung für die Sonn- und Festtage des evangelischen Kirchenjahres (1900); Blume (ed.), Protestant Church Music, 383, 391.

846

Ibid. 384; ‘Kirchenmusik’ (above n. 70), col. 986.

847

O. Loorits, ‘The Renascence of the Estonian Nation’, The Slavonic and East European Review, 33 (1954–5), 30–5; A. Tammann, J. V. Jannsen (Tallinn, 1938).

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liturgy was introduced in 1895.848 In Thuringia, the home of organists and organ-builders, a renaissance begun with the Thuringian Orgelverein (1843), was publicized at home and abroad by the Erfurt publishing house, Körner, and the new periodicals Euterpe (1841–84) and Urania (1844–1911) serving a new generation of teaching organists. Parish clergy willingly took up this renaissance in church musicianship as a popular cause. Max Herold (1840–1921), pastor of Bavarian Schwabach (1875–1903), established a powerful national mouthpiece (Schöberlein was co-editor), in the monthly Siona: Monatsschrift für Liturgie und Kirchenmusik (1876–1920). Such publicity brought with it an awareness that there were models to follow other than just the classic period 1500–1650. The Lower Saxon mid-century Lutheran liturgical revival produced the influential voice of Justus Wilhelm Lyra (1822–82), pastor in Lower Saxon Wittingen near Lüneburg (1847–67), Bevensen (1869–77), and Gehrden (1877–82), a pupil of Winterfeld and Marx while at Berlin (1841–3, 1844–5). Lyra, who reconstructed Luther's Deutsche Messe (1870), and wrote two books on Lutheran altar chant (1861, 1877), began the modern revival of the motets and cantatas of Bach, Handel, and Mendelssohn as music suitable for modern parish churches. But the real breakthrough in a historical approach which offered choice and the possibility of new directions in Protestant choral music was achieved by the eldest of Spitta's two gifted sons, (Julius Auguste) Philipp (1841–94), the author of the classic source-based two-volume biography of Bach (Leipzig, 1873–80; English, 1899).849 He used his profession as a school music teacher at Leipzig (the St Nicholas Gymnasium), and Berlin to reinstate Bach as a modern Protestant choral composer. The professional Bachverein (1872) Spitta founded with his friend, the composer Herzogenberg (see below), benefited from a not entirely moribund tradition of Saxon and Thuringian home-town parish musicianship, an urban climate which still liked ditties sung by ambulatory choristers (Kurrende), and the local romantic Bach revival (Ch. 17) carried on by Moritz

848

Lübeck's choral revival and the Vereinigung für kirchlichen Chorgesang (1891): MGG, cols. 1272–3, s.v. ‘Lübeck (Stadt)’.

849

MGG s.v, ‘Spitta’; Spitta also corresponded with Brahms about his work editing Bach and Schütz. This influenced Brahms's three motets on biblical sentences, Fest- und Gedenksprüche (1888–9), op. 109 for double choir, and his three further motets op. 110 (first and third for 8-part double chorus; the second for 4-part chorus), Brahms's last choral music.

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Hauptmann (1792–1868) at St Thomas from 1842, and the Bach-Gesellschaft (1850). Subsequently as director of music at Berlin University and Berlin's High School of Music after 1875, Spitta replaced Winterfeld's purist views. Spitta looked at the historical development of Lutheran church music as a whole; insisted on shedding an overtly romantic love of the musical late sixteenth century Catholic Ordinary and Proper (Palestrina); and challenged Dresden's middleclass fashion for choral singing in the concert hall with his programmatic statement (1889), ‘Let us, for once, turn things around: give Protestant church music [Bach] its rightful place in the house of God, and cultivate a cappella music in concerts.’850 Bach's restoration as a modern Protestant composer meant to Spitta the best way to restore a common Sunday and weekday liturgy shared between choristers, soloists, instrumentalists, and the parish congregation. Schütz (cultivated by Frankfurt's St Cecilia Society in the 1830s) also started to be noticed again: his Passions were published anew in 1870–72; a complete edition was begun by Spitta in 1885. A new generation of parish clergy, organists, and cantors took notice at last. In Leipzig, the performances of weekly Schütz and Bach motets on Saturdays, and evenings before the main church festivals at St Thomas, and at vespers performed by the choir (Kreuzianer) at Dresden's Kreuzkirche under Oskar Wermann, cantor (1875–1906) became city events: in Dresden, attendance jumped from between forty-fifty in 1870 to 3,000–4,000 in 1900.851 This enabled Wermann's successor, Otto Richter (1906–30), who founded a Bach-Verein (1911) to support the Kreuzianer, and who established Bach's St Matthew Passion as the high point in Dresden's modern pre-war musical calendar, to introduce the new Protestant musicianship of Albert Schweitzer, and modern Protestant choral composers patronized by Strasburg and Heidelberg's practical theologians (see below). It was a new departure which allowed the Neue Bachgesellschaft (1900) to proclaim its intention of making the complete edition issued by Bachgesellschaft (1850–1900) available for practical use in parish churches. Strasburg and Heidelberg were the other modern centres. Philipp Spitta's brother, Friedrich (1852–1924), appointed professor of theology, liturgy, and church music in 1887, and his colleague

850

Cited Blume, 392.

851

MGG, cols. 786–7, s.v. ‘Dresden’.

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PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Julius Smend (1893), argued at Strasburg that any renewal of the Reformation order of service had to begin by understanding its historical and aesthetic development: such an approach would free it from previous ‘subjective’ romantic restoration, and open it to modern presentations. In their liturgical journal, Monatsschrift für Gottesdienst und kirchliche Kunst (1896–1941), they went a step further than Siona. They restated the psychological and aesthetic value of Christian festive worship (Feier)—which Schütz and Bach represented—in a modern plural social order, and opened a new path by pressing church authorities once again to commission and authorize choral works to support the Sunday liturgy. They thus commissioned modern composers to write liturgical and choral music for the use of both the professional choir and the congregation of Strasburg's university church. One of the first was the Viennese Catholic, Heinrich Freiherr von Herzogenberg (1843–1900), a composer influenced by Brahms in the 1860s who had settled subsequently in Leipzig (1872–85). He followed much the same path as his close friend Philipp Spitta, becoming the director of Leipzig's Bachverein in 1875, and, as a composer who ran master courses at Berlin after 1885, also pioneered a modern Protestant liturgical music which modelled itself on Schütz and Bach: notable were his Liturgische Gesänge für Chor a-capella in instalments (1893–7), and his oratorios Die Geburt Christi (1895), Die Passion (1896), and Erntefeier (1899). Arnold Mendelssohn (1855–1933), a good friend of Smend and Spitta, music director and organist at Bonn University (1880–90), who pioneered Darmstadt's revival of Bach and Schütz after 1890 as director of church music and professor (1899), was another. Mendelssohn tried to liberate the Protestant Sunday service from a wayward singing of motets, and force congregational singing to alternate with choral polyphonic singing as a way of strengthening the choral Sunday liturgy. Mendelssohn introduced the post-1918 austere and modern classical style with his 15 Chorale zum Wechselgesang für gemischten Chor (1912). The choral compositions of Max Bruch and Reger, notably Reger's Vier Choralkantaten mit Gemeindegesang ad lib. (1903–5), were used as well in a repertoire which Spitta also promoted as president of the Protestant Kirchengesangverein in Alsace-Lorraine after 1898. Spitta's and Smend's modern choral Sunday liturgy, building on Schütz and Bach, was naturally complemented by Albert

REFORMATION AND PROTESTANT MORAL ORDER

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Schweitzer's promotion of organ-building and -playing, which he had learnt in Paris at St Sulpice under Charles-Marie Widor (1845–1937), and by his seminal Bach biography (1905) for which Widor supplied the preface. Schweitzer was the first academic musician to link in a systematic way Bach's connection between words and music (Tonmalerei), and the first to regulate professional organ-building with his international Regulativ (1909).852 These were revolutionary steps taken in the context of the enlightened and romantic periods of church music so far. Strasburg's choral modernism was complemented by Heidelberg under Philipp Wolfrum (1854–1919), a music teacher appointed by the theology faculty in 1884, who used the Bachverein, university Gesangverein, and the well-publicized Heidelberg musical festivals of 1909, 1911, and 1913 that he founded, to make Heidelberg the centre of a shared Bach renaissance. These were also important as venues for including the works of composers such as his close friend, Reger, but also of Mahler, d'Albert, and Elgar. Possibly the best contemporary example of this new attempt to involve the congregation in church music and liturgy was Wolfrum's own Weihnachtsmysterium (1899; English version: Hereford, 1903) based on words of the Bible and medieval popular Christmas plays which used scenic representation in church. Richard Strauss, with whom Wolfrum organized the Genossenschaft deutscher Tonsetzer (1903), spoke of it as uniting ‘the skill of Bach, [and] the ecstasy of Liszt.853 In the two decades 1860–80, Neo-Gothic, as a grandiose Protestant public architecture to suit Wilhelmine (after 1888) urban pomp and circumstance, reflected—in marked contrast to simultaneous urban pastoral crisis—a new official aesthetic mood for liturgical form shaped by a church service led from the choir. This emphasized sanctification (Weihe), elevation, glorification (Verklärung), and the venerable, quite regardless of suitability or price. It was a mixture of the new constitutional churchmanship, a feeling that the Protestant church had at last more control over its own affairs, and for a while, particularly in Wilhelmine Berlin or the capital of the new Reichsland Alsace-Lorraine, a new Protestant national optimism. The Eisenach guidelines (Regulativ, 1861) which incorporated

852

Jean Sebastien Bach: Le Musicien poète (Paris, 1905; German, 1908; English, 1911); aesthetics of word and tone (English edn.), ii.

853

Cited Blume, 402.

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twenty-five theses issued by the Barmen church conference (1860) used Neo-Gothic (called ‘Germanic Gothic style’, Eisenach § 3) to place modern Protestant ecclesiology firmly within Catholic tradition: the ‘rational’ eighteenth century was deemed not worthy of consideration.854 Barmen and Eisenach emphasized ‘confession’, and the officiating priest who conducted parish worship from an elevated altar visible from all sides of the choir, decorated with a crucifix, and, if appropriate, a picture depicting the Crucifixion or Last Supper (Barmen, §§ 1–4, 15; Eisenach §§ 7–8). The pulpit was also placed between choir and nave on a pillar (acoustic problems were swept aside), and not before, behind, or above the altar (§ 10), as in the eighteenth century. Order, decency, dignity (Würde), was considered possibly more important than ever before in Protestant worship: pews were to be sited to give a dignified space ‘würdigen Raumes' before the choir, and they were divided by a broad central aisle to ease access to the communion service (Barmen § 12; Eisenach § 14). Societies for Christian Art’ following Grüneisen's Swabian model and funded by a mix of voluntary contributions, local patronage, and church and state authorities (Barmen § 25) were to cultivate this ecclesiology. The first parish churches to be built were those of Goldenstedt in Silesia (1864), Langenhagen (1867–9) near Hanover, and St John in Stuttgart (1876).855 Neo-Gothic also took hold in Sweden; a decade or so later in the twenty-year period 1880–1900. It reflected the ‘high church’ views of Archbishops Reuterdahl and Sundberg (1856–1900), and Bishop Ullman's liturgical appropriation of the German Neo-Lutheran ‘objective’ office and liturgy uniting word and altar-sacrament in a Neo-Gothic choir and nave whose exterior Gothic spire was to be a new landmark for the modern pilgrim.856 This was a very determined high-church response to an evangelical challenge which after 1870 put down roots successfully as established urban congregations (församlingar) under the auspices of a new central agency, the Svenska Missionsförbundet (1878), in Stockholm, most major Swedish towns, and, embarrassingly enough, in Uppsala, the seat of the archdiocese.

854

Barmen and Eisenach norms: Langmaack, Evangelischer Kirchenbau im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert, 269–74.

855

The Hanoverian, Conrad Wilhelm Hase (1818–1902) who built Langenhagen, and the Swabian, Christian von Leins (1814–92), who built St John, Stuttgart (they helped Stüler draw up the Eisenach norms) were the chief Neo-Gothic architects, Langmaack, 15–16; K. E. O. Fritsch (ed.), Kirchenbau des Protestantismus, 237–43, 545–6.

856

Lindahl, Högkyrkligt, Lågkyrkligt, Frikyrkligt, 96 passim.

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The architect, Helgo Zettervall (1831–1907), inspired by an 1862 trip in the Rhineland, southern Germany, and Italy, translated these views successfully as grandiose city churches such as All Saints' (1877) at Lund, Oskar Fredrikskyrkan in Gothenburg (1887), and the Oscarskyrkan in Stockholm (1896); like-minded architects did much the same for St John, Stockholm (1881), the model for Luleå cathedral (1888), and Sundsvall's city church (1890). All these churches were lavishly decorated with Christocentric paintings and sculptures. In 1877 Sundberg entrusted Zettervall with what became a radical restoration of Uppsala cathedral between 1885 and 1893 in florid late thirteenth-century Parisian style. Zettervall's restoration was finally stripped down in 1960.857 However, those with a fair sense of high medieval Gothic, notably the architects, soon began to see that it was not an appropriate parish church architecture for rapidly expanding urban-industrial parishes, or even rural home parishes changed by modern labour supply and demand. It fitted ill with new congregational identities, and with urban (also rural) parishes which mixed religious denominations more and more. The elevated altar in the choir made a nonsense, particularly in the Old Prussian Church, of the Reformed doctrinal practice of parish communion four times a year at an altar-table placed in the centre of the church.858 The drafts presented for the completion of Berlin's controversial new cathedral in the Lustgarten (shelved in 1848), after Prussian victory in 1866, already reflected big divisions. Heated public debates, many new guides, books, and pamphlets, accompanied the thirty-year reign of German Neo-Gothic church architecture, which in the Wilhelmine period under the ill-fated Emperor Frederick III and his pious wife Augusta Victoria (1888) and under William II lost all sense of proportion, cost, stylistic integrity, and taste. The Berlin architect, Johannes Otzen (1839–1911), who drafted the more modern congregational Wiesbaden guidelines, included in his drafts for a Berlin acting as Germany's Protestant capital and hit by a massive suburban parish increase, in rather desperate fashion, as many as three naves with seating for 1,000–3,000. Court and church authorities simply ignored Berlin's low church attendance. The completion of Berlin cathedral, eventually initiated by Frederick III

857

Zettervall: Lindahl 88–95; Ö. Sjöholm (ed.), Uppsala domkyrka: Katedral genom sekler (Uppsala, 1982), 51–2.

858

Fritsch, 539–40.

566

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on his accession and built under his successor, William II, who, much against his will, had to agree to scale down its size (1893–1905), used up a princely financial budget of ten million marks agreed by parliament in 1892.859 Berliners called the new cathedral, which became chic for society marriages, both Zuckerbäckerei and a Seelengasometer. The Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church (1891–5), an unhappy concoction of Neo-Gothic and Hohenstaufen Romanesque, seating 1,780, which was rapidly christened the Taufhaus des Westens with an eye to the nearby Kaufhaus des Westens in the Kurfürstendamm, cost between two and a half and three million marks.860 The monumental national Protestant church prevailed for a short while elsewhere too: Neo-Gothic St Paul in Strasburg seating some 2,100, conceived of as a challenge to Strasburg's minster, and completed between 1892 and 1897, began with a estimated budget of one million marks.861 The 1890s were, however, a major turning-point in design, though the slogan, ‘the liturgy is builder’ enunciated at the Dresden conference in 1906 by the famous Saxon architect and art historian, professor of church architecture at Dresden's Technische Hochshule since 1890, Cornelius Gurlitt (1850–1938), still held, in a decade which saw much church building: in Berlin in 1892 some twenty-five Protestant churches were either on the drawing-board or in the process of being built.862 Architects and younger parish clergy, who worried about outsize parishes and empty monumental churches, began to take on board Sulze's arguments for small and cheap congregational churches without pews and galleries which would form an integral part of a complex of buildings designed for congregational use. City architects also argued that churches were not merely edifices which served theological or liturgical fashion.863 Was a choir really necessary for congregational worship? Why was it necessary to divide a church when the entire congregation took parish communion very seldom, if at all? The congregation was a better starting-point: Bähr's Dresden provided a good example; even the Anglican church often used the lectern placed at the end of the nave as the place to

859

Fritsch, 378.

860

Ibid. 336.

861

Ibid. 364.

862

Ibid. 293. Emmaus (1891–3) was the largest of all, seating 2,600.

863

Notably the Berlin architects in their historical overview edited by Fritsch (1893): ‘Die Baustile als solche haben weder eine Religion noch eine Moral: der Geist des Künstlers ist es, der ihnen Leben einhaucht’, ibid. 551, and Oscar Mothes in his Handbuch des evangelisch-christlichen Kirchenbaues (Leipzig, 1898).

REFORMATION AND PROTESTANT MORAL ORDER

567

conduct the parish Sunday liturgy. The Eisenach norm was too exclusive and coercive. Christian architecture since the Early Church showed a wonderful variety governed by the whims of patrons, the artistic preferences of architects, the changing nature of congregations, and types of material and availability. Why not now, perhaps, take notice of modern materials such as cement, steel, and glass? Otzen's Wiesbadener Programm (1891), drawn up with the consent of a new practical-minded city pastorate, came some way towards meeting this plea, though Otzen never quite freed himself from massive and dark Gothic forms.864 Four short guidelines emphasized that ‘the [Protestant] church should be in the style of a meeting-place for the worshipping congregation’; that worship should be unified in a space lacking a division between nave and choir; that an altar-table round which the congregation could move freely should be provided for parish communion; and that the status of the pulpit in Protestant churches equalled that of the altar. The eighteenth-century pulpit-altar seemed to return. Otzen's Ringkirche in Wiesbaden (built 1892–4), an organic mixture of late Romanesque and early Gothic encasing a congregational liturgy, thus approximated Dresden's Frauenkirche in its linkage of altar, pulpit behind the altar, and organ above. It was a move which in the decade before 1914 heralded a rupture with Gothic tradition and a new mood of experiment. Modern shapes—squares, circles, ovals—linking in one congregational room the concepts of space and worship, architecture and theology, sermon and communion, and using industrial steel, cement, brick, and glass began to see the light of day in urban parish churches like the Christuskirche at Strehlen (1905), Stuttgart's Erlöser (1907) and Gaisburg (1913) churches. Catholic Neo-Romanesque city churches acted as a challenge, as did modern exhibitions like Düsseldorf's on Christian Art (1909) or Cologne's Werkbund exhibition (1914). It was a direction summed up by the bold statement (1924) of architect Otto Bartning that modern congregations should have the courage to build churches using modern technology visible as machine-rooms, bridges, or sluices in the same way as Gothic was once a technical discovery; in this way the Protestant parish church would become an integral part of today and tomorrow.865

864

TRE, 307, s.v. ‘Kirchenbau IV’; Fritsch, 298–9.

865

Cited Leiturgia, iii. 403–4.

568

PIETY, ENLIGHTENMENT? RELIGIOUS AWAKENING, REDISCOVERY

Sundberg's death in 1900 and Zettervall's in 1907 marked a similar turning-point in Sweden, though the new Archbishop Johan August Ekman (1900–13) and young practical-minded clergy like Söderblom tried hard to persuade architects to link Sweden's medieval architectural heritage with modern forms, thereby expressing the unity of Lutheran altar-sacrament and the modern gathered congregation. It was the church's responsibility to bring as many people as possible into a Christian fellowship bound by the means of grace: to awaken devotion and joy round the altar. These were arguments which produced the very exciting idiosyncratic, asymmetrical, monastic, and mystical new suburban parish church Engelbrektskyrkan in Stockholm (1906–14), the Masthuggskyrkan in Gothenburg, and the Uppenbarelsekyrkan (Church of the Revelation) in Saltsjösbaden (both 1910), whose name reflected Söderblom's mixture of theology and Swedish history as Christian revelation. The same mix of past and present appeared later, in 1916, in the very imaginative Sigtuna Foundation complex near Uppsala; a symbol of the Swedish church's Dominican past—including an open-air altar—finished in the plain rugged style of Swedish medieval church architecture. But elsewhere, Sweden's growing, suburban, small-parish periphery spawned a variety of forms and materials: the new shapes of Stockholm's Matteuskyrkan (1901), or the chapel in the working-class district of Hjorthagen inspired by modern German-Austrian models, or the modern Nordic stave church at Kiruna (1908) using the timber of the new local sawmills.866

866

Lindahl, 108–21.

Epilogue I. A Fragile Modern Protestant Church Order The framework of a modern Protestant church order was in place in Germany and Scandinavia by 1914. Refinements carried on, but these fell into abeyance in another war. The catastrophe which the First World War represents for us, and the vexatious post-war German issues, ‘guilt’, the end of princely authority in the Landeskirchen, and subsequently, a very strained relationship between German Protestantism, Catholicism too, and modern republicanism, tend to cloud our view of churches already in a process of major reform which was checked constantly by the anomalous structural legacy left by their historic Reformation. The period 1890–1914 was the heyday of a modern Protestant university theology in Germany. It was a very exciting time to be an ordinand. Big advances in understanding the setting and composition of the Bible; the historical approach which allowed a more open view on doctrinal formulae, and hence the history of other religions and cultures; a return to Jesus and the Early Church, to the essential in Christianity, gave a new confidence and hope to a generation of German and Scandinavian ordinands who placed the congregation first in their ministry. Some of the scholars were larger than life: Harnack, who chaired church history at Berlin University (1888–1921), and was director of Berlin's Royal Library after 1905—two very taxing jobs—personified the Protestant ethic, or vice, as he was wont to say (though he did stop daily work by 8 p.m. to be with his family!) by publishing a mere 455 books, studies, reviews, and lectures between 1900 and 1914; 1,611 titles were listed in the definitive bibliography of 1927.867 An ordinand such as the young Albert Schweitzer was attracted by Strasburg university's distinctly liberal theology. He warmed as a

867

Rumscheidt (ed.), Harnack: Liberal Theology at its Height, 22; F. Smend, Verzeichnis der Schriften Adolf von Harnacks (Leipzig, 1927).

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theology student and graduate (1894–9)—one who was forced to think by Strasburg's Neo-Kantian philosopher, Wilhelm Windelband (1848–1915)—to the New Testament scholarship on the Synoptists taught by Heinrich Julius Holtzmann (1832–1910), professor of New Testament (1874–1904), and the new practical theology of Smend and Spitta. Schweitzer, who enthused over the new light on the Nicene period presented by Harnack in his three-volume history of Christian doctrine (1886–9), also spent the summer term of 1899 in Berlin, where he heard and befriended the great scholar. Schweitzer highlighted a feature of this learning which is often forgotten today. If Schweitzer liked the intellectual stimulation of Berlin University in ‘the finest period of its existence’ in contrast to an intellectual Paris (which he visited in 1898) torn apart by the Dreyfus case, he was equally touched by the simple way of life of the Berlin society he encountered, and the ease with which incomers were admitted to its family life. The Bavarian, Wilhelm Stählin, who, whilst briefly a student at Berlin (1904–5), spent Christmas Eve with Harnack and his family (as did several other students), was deeply moved by Harnack's humble reading of the Christmas story; Schweitzer was touched too by the way Harnack used the postcard crammed to the edges with news and scholarly notes for his correspondence; two of the last Harnack ever wrote, comments on Schweitzer's Mysticism of Paul the Apostle, arrived in Lambaréné in 1930.868 Schweitzer's own mix of modern theology and musicianship, and his humanitarian pastorate owed very much to this German university milieu. At Strasburg, Schweitzer combined a lectureship in theology and an appointment as principal of the Wilhelmitanum theological college (1903–6), which led to the publication of his seminal and elegant account of the Protestant German Quest for the Historical Jesus (1906), with medical studies (1905–12), and the curacy of St Nicholas (1900–12), before leaving his Alsatian homeland for Africa on Good Friday, 1913. In the epilogue to his autobiography (1931), Schweitzer reminds the reader how the honest thinking he learnt in this pre-war scholarly environment taught him reverence for life, humility, and service for others. He learnt too that Christianity in the age of Enlightenment—Schweitzer used the German word Aufklärung (‘illumination’)—was far from ‘shallow’ as popular fashion, in 1931, supposed: Christians,

868

Via Vitae, 52; Schweitzer, My Life and Thought, 33–5.

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571

he said, especially in Germany, should try to understand its struggle for humanity; especially at a time when it seemed that Christianity offered almost no opposition in words and deeds to the re-establishment of torture in many states, and to new superstitions: ‘The essential element in Christianity as it was preached by Jesus and as it is comprehended by thought, is this, that it is only through love that we can attain communion with God. All living knowledge of God rests upon this foundation: that we experience Him in our lives as Will-to-Love.’869 The same belief was shared by another young pastor and theologian. Söderblom, like Schweitzer, experienced Paris (1894–1901), both as chaplain to the Swedish Left Bank congregation, and as a pupil of the new history of the New Testament and Christian dogma taught in the new Protestant theology faculty of the Sorbonne (1877) by the Ritschlian, Auguste Sabatier (1839–1901). Söderblom took to heart Sabatier's elegant emphasis on the centrality of faith and the experience of the individual Christian.870 This modern Protestant scholarship and view of Christian life had also a profound effect on a new Catholic ‘Modernism’, though this reform movement shared no common programme, either at Paris, or in German universities.871 Catholic Modernists adopted modern Bible criticism, moved away from St Thomas Aquinas to a practical theology of the kind already described, and to the idea of the development of the Christian church as possessing meaning in its issue rather than its origins: that the mass should be understood this way: whether the historic Christ instituted it was secondary. In Germany, at the time of Leo XIII's warning and advice to the church in modern times in his encyclical Rerum novarum (1890), modern Protestant historical and practical theology started to be taken seriously by Catholic theologians and clergy who shared similar convictions to clergy such as Schweitzer and Söderblom. Notable figures were Franz Xaver Kraus (1840–1911), professor of church history at Freiburg after 1878; Hermann Schell (1850–1906), professor of Christian apologetics, Christian art, and comparative religion at Würzburg (1884–1906); Albert Ehrhard (1862–1940) professor of church history at Strasburg (1903–20); and Sebastian Merkle (1862–1945), professor of church history at Würzburg (1898–1933).

869

Ibid. 277.

870

Söderblom invited. Schweitzer, briefly home in Alsace in 1919, to give the Uppsala Olaus Petri lectures in 1920. On the Edge of the Primeval Forest (1921), was also commissioned and published by the Uppsala Lindblad publishing house.

871

Jedin, Handbuch, vi/2. 437 passim.

572

EPILOGUE

Merkle, in particular, pioneered in Schweitzer's sense, a modern Catholic historical understanding of the Enlightenment. His lecture, ‘The Catholic Assessment of the Age of Enlightenment’, delivered to an international gathering of historians at Berlin University on 21 August 1908, was published as a controversial book in 1909, the year before Pius X condemned Modernism, and recommended a return to Thomism in his motu proprio.872 This modern Catholic scholarship combined with a practical pastorate, and it used the more accurate results of the first professional Catholic religious statistics of Germany, the Konfessionsstatistik Deutschlands, published by the Jesuit, Krose, in 1904. There was, it seemed, all of a sudden a sense of a common cause in a bewildering modern world order, however divided Protestant and Catholic milieus were after the Kulturkampf. But how difficult it still was to change historic parishes and local churches even at a time of marked urban and industrial change. Titles, rank, authority counted in parish etiquette. In the old Danish episcopal see, Aarhus, the chief diocese of eastern Jutland, the snobbery connected with its cathedral clergy, who hated socialists, continued in the period 1900–14 when the city began to grow as a commercial port and important railway junction (population 51,814 in 1901). A local schoolmaster and pastor, in reminiscence of a pre-war childhood and schooling in the cathedral school which was far from idyllic, recorded how his father, whose great respect for clergymen seemed to depend much on their rank, used to greet the cathedral chaplain in the street by briefly raising his hand towards his bowler hat; the cathedral parish priest was greeted by a lifting of his hat and a light nod of his head; meeting the archdeacon, he swept off his hat with a bow of great deference. If the worst happened, and they met the bishop, his father kept his hat in hand for the first hundred metres, after a bow which threatened to ram his head on the kerbstones: ‘Thank goodness we did not have any possibility of meeting the Pope,’ this chronicler sighed.873 In the nine Thuringian Landeskirchen in 1910, twenty-four different titles were still used for clergy ranked between general superintendent and subdeacon.874 They were titles used in senior consistories

872

S. Merkle, Die katholische Beurteilung des Aufklärungszeitalters (Berlin, 1909); T. Freudenberger, Sebastian Merkle: Ausgewählte Reden und Aufsätze (Würzburg, 1965).

873

Orla Muld (1910–94), Var det nu så sjovt at være lille? Erindringer fra min barndomsby (Aarhus, 1979), 62.

874

Generalsuperintendent, Geheimer Konsistorialrat; Geheimer Ober-Kirchenrat, Geheimer Kirchenrat (also conferred on members of Jena's theology faculty), Oberkonsistorialrat, Konsistorialrat, Kirchenrat, Superintendent, Oberpfarrer, Oberhofprediger, Archidiakonus, Pfarrer, Pastor, Hofprediger, Diakonus (first and second), Stiftsprediger, Stiftspfarrer, Hilfsprediger, Hilfsgeistlicher, Kollaborator, Pfarrvikar, Pfarrverweser, Subdiakonus : Glaue, Thüringen, 43–4.

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to signify official status, age, experience, and a division between town churches employing several clergy for their several services and the simpler pastoral provision of country parishes. As usual there were oddities: in Reuss-Schleiz (the junior line) all clergy were called Pastor, but in Gera, an important light manufacturing town (population in 1905, 47,455), in the three town churches, Pfarrer was reserved for the seniors of St Salvator and Trinity, and Oberpfarrer and Archidiaconus at St John. In Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, Oberpfarrer was used for clergy appointed by the prince, but only for the period of tenure. Little had visibly changed in the structure of a complex Thuringian churchscape laid bare by Emil Sehling, a leading spokesman of the new historical approach to Reformation history. In the preface to the second Thuringian part of his Saxon-Thuringian church orders (1902–4)—his monumental edition of Lutheran church orders is still incomplete today—in which he printed 153 in contrast to four published by Richter, Sehling emphasized how important it is to understand not only the slow gestation of sixteenth-century church orders, but also, by implication, their legacy which shaped the local parish history of the Lutheran church in home town and village.875 There were still many Thuringian orders of service in 1914. Weimar's order of Sunday and weekday services (1890) based on Duke Henry's rite (1539) and revision (1664) gave fifteen orders for the main Sunday service and three for subsidiary services; little Meiningen's senior consistory noted in 1895 thirty-five different orders of service in use, and an anxious duke announced in Meiningen's new synod (1898), that a proposed new rite was not up for discussion because he feared controversy. This variety of choice was true to a greater or lesser degree in all these nine states. Pericopes and hymn-books began to see some reform in 1900, though in 1910, thirteen or more hymn-books remained in official use in very small parishes, since many parishes united villages which were incorporated in parishes belonging to different Thuringian states, neighbouring Saxony, and Prussia. Amongst 888 Thuringian parishes, 448 (50.45%) contained chapels

875

Sehling, Kirchenordnungen (Sachsen und Thüringen ), ii. preface.

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of ease.876 Parishioners who moved, as mobility became easier, had always to buy new hymn-books, and these were different in their selection of hymns and texts. What one had learnt in childhood was either left out or so changed as to confuse. An understanding of a common Lutheran heritage was difficult still. More serious was the relationship between the doctrinal formulae observed by local Reformation churches, and what clergy reformers preached in a new church order which had discarded, after c.1850, the old coercive controls of the church-state, and which experienced a growing voluntary churchmanship. Church and modern State could not be kept easily apart either. Modern parliaments and church synods also claimed a say. In Sweden, matters came to a head in 1893 in the Ecclesiastical Council in discussion about a revised service-book. There was an obvious disparity between Caroline Church Law, which still obliged all officials in church and state in the oath of uniformity to obey the Book of Concord as well, and its omission in the obligation contained in the constitution (Regeringsform).877 Opinions divided once again between Lund and Uppsala. Several clergy worried about meddlesome modern law: Ullman, the liturgist, emphasized the historical reality of the Lutheran church as a living body independent of the state and its law; that it was marked by doctrinal formulae which should be respected as historical facts. A narrow margin of thirty to twentyeight votes opted for retaining the Book of Concord. Abolition of the lengthy and dated Caroline oath of obedience taken by clergy with hand on Bible at ordination called for by the Ecclesiastical Council a decade earlier in 1883 produced a similar crisis. The council proposed that it be replaced by a short vow. Opinions divided about its wording: whether this was a promise, or an assurance (it was administered by a notary to an ordinand who repeated it after him and gave his name), and the loss of the festive liturgical moment in poor formulation which emphasized the legal at the expense of the religious. Why could one not return to the brief sentence contained in the 1571 church order? Little was resolved thereafter. Bishops such as Ullman and Gottfrid Billing worried about obedience to a church which obliged clergy to preach the Gospel positively at a time when clergy recruitment seemed to be dropping. Others, notably the more ‘liberal’ Uppsala theology faculty, emphasized the

876

Glaue, 27–8.

876

Glaue, 27–8.

877

1686 års Kyrkolag, ch. 1, § 1; Rodhe, Svenska kyrkan omkring sekelskiftet, ch. 1.

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new vow's inclusion of the words ‘to the best of my judgement and conscience’ (efter bästa förstånd och samvete).878 No one really knew, in this climate of modern theology, how to balance questions about Christian doctrine, and the discipline which reminded clergy of their ordination vow to preach the Gospel. In Prussia and most German states, matters rested with consistories. At university level, a Protestant church's say was more difficult. Catholic theologians in Prussia could be refused appointment by the diocesan bishop, but this was not the Protestant case. The six old Prussian Protestant theology faculties (Berlin, Bonn, Breslau, Greifswald, Halle, Königsberg) were asked to notify theological appointments to the Prussia's senior church authority, the EOK, for the first time in 1855, but the Ministry of Church Affairs remained free of this obligation, as did the three universities of Göttingen, Kiel, and Marburg incorporated in Prussia in 1866.879 In many ways Protestant clergy had less freedom of opinion than civil servants, though experience in Prussia before 1900 showed—notably in the cases of two liberal-minded clergy such as Adolf Sydow (1800–82), who had queried in a public lecture the miraculous birth of Christ (1872), and Theodor Hoβbach (1833–94), whose reservations about the place of the Apostolic Creed in public worship caused public strife which caused Herrmann to resign as chairman of the EOK on 25 November 1877 (his official date of resignation was 4 May 1878)—that a disciplining over doctrinal opinions did not lead automatically to an unfrocking.880 It became a different matter in the critical climate of 1890–1914. Cases, beginning with Harnack's controversial appointment at Berlin in 1887/8, and those where he contributed a weighty critical voice, abounded. At the time of Emperor William II's accession, the EOK struggled for information about Harnack's interpretation of the New Testament canon, miracles, and baptism, with a much confused Bismarck, ministers who admired the advance of modern learning, a court party which wavered between support for Kögel and Stoecker's positive Christianity and modern theological scholarship, a suspicious general synod, and strong support for Harnack by

878

1686 års Kyrkolag, ch. 22, § 11; Rodhe, Svenskt gudstjänstliv, 466 passim ; Brilioth, Svensk kyrkokunskap, 148; Cronquist, ‘Teologfrekvensen i Sverige efter 1830’, Kå (1925), 175–6.

879

Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, iii. 645.

880

Kirchengesetz betr. die Dienstvergehen der Kirchenbeamten (16 July 1886), Huber and Huber, ii. no. 458; Huber, Verfassungsgeschichte, iv. 855–62.

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ordinands and colleagues who had elected him, aged 37, in the summer of 1888, rector of Marburg University, and awarded him an honorary doctorate of theology at Giessen. Two cases stood out in the pre-war press. Christoph Schrempf (1860–1944), vicar of Swabian Leuzendorf (1886–92), informed his parish congregation on 9 August 1891 that he could no longer carry out baptisms because he could not subscribe to the contents of the Apostolic Creed; particularly the Virgin Birth. The senior consistory at Stuttgart informed Schrempf eventually (27 October) that he broke his ordination oath (the 1827 formulation) which forbade deviation from the Augsburg Confession; that he was banned from official duties; and that if he stuck to his opinion he would never be reappointed to Leuzendorf or any other Swabian parish. Schrempf stood firm, debate continued until 15 December, when Stuttgart initiated the procedure of unfrocking. In actual fact, the state decided. The king, as head of the church, used the procedure for sacking civil servants provided by the 1819 constitution (§ 47). Schrempf was unfrocked without a pension by his consistory on 3 June 1892.881 The case touched the quick of public opinion, especially after Harnack's public response in Christliche Welt (18 August). Abolition of the Apostolic Creed only delivered the church into the hands of its opponents, Harnack argued; on the other hand, the Creed's contents needed reinterpretation in the light of modern research; every attempt to explain the Virgin Birth was impossible: it might be best, therefore, to put a modern statement of Christian belief alongside the Apostolic Creed, and its use in worship could be left to clergy choice. A controversial literature, which threatened to bury Strauss's Leben Jesu controversy, put even Harnack's new appointment in jeopardy. Harnack was forced by William II to accept a second professor as a counterweight on 12 November, less than a fortnight after William's public demonstration of his Lutheran faith with some pomp at Wittenberg on Reformation Day. The first holder of the second professorship was the Swiss Adolf Schlatter (1852–1926) until 1898; the second, the conservative Lutheran, Reinhold Seeberg (1859–1935), who had trained at Dorpat and Erlangen. It was significant that the EOK kept out of the news until 25 November, when it issued a circular forbidding Prussian clergy a choice of whether or not to use the Apostolic Creed. It did reject

881

Huber and Huber, iii. no. 289: cf. the Swabian Friedrich Steudel (1866–1939) 1896 case, ibid. 679 passim.

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the view, however, that a confession (Bekenntnis) was a fixed doctrinal law (even Harnack approved of this distinction between the Christian faith and its symbolic form in doctrinal formula). At this point, the new Prussian general synod, in agreement with the Eisenach conference, tried to distinguish between doctrine and discipline, and lay out a procedure for resolving doctrinal controversy fairly. But this was hampered by the legacy of Kirchenregiment fashioned by King Frederick William III. Official rulings, such as a reminder to obey the Prussian oath taken at ordination (13 June 1895), the EOK's banning of pastors in politics (16 December 1895), and the new law governing an ordinand's training and appointment (15 August 1898), provided questionable precedents for a ‘Heresy Law’ (Irrlehregesetz) issued on 16 March 1910. It established the legal precedent for similar West German legislation in 1956, 1963, and 1983. Commentators pointed out at a time when the SPD was scoring its greatest election triumphs, that an established church which observed doctrinal formulae had to be in a position to defend them; if a party could expel a member who disagreed with its basic principles, why should a parish congregation tolerate ‘priestly functionaries’ who either disavowed accepted religious doctrine, or gave an interpretation which was contrary or alien to that understood by parishioners?882 Canon lawyers hoped that an impartial court (Spruchkollegium, composed of thirteen members: the chairman of the EOK, four senior clergy, two theologians, and six elected representatives divided equally between the general synod and relevant provincial synod) might avoid the mixing of doctrine with discipline for straying from ordination vows. Opinion divided, as in Sweden, between clergy who acknowledged the ‘strong arm of the law’, Harnack's view that in a secular age it was important for an established church to have an impartial court which tried to distinguish between doctrine and discipline, and those who agreed with Rudolph Sohm (see below) who condemned what he called a Lehrgerichtshof as a legal intrusion upon the entirely different spiritual organization of the church. It was a solution which was put to the test only once before 1918, but in a case which showed that principle mixed ill with reality. An established Protestant church was still considered an essential pillar

882

Kirchengesetz, betr. das Verfahren bei Beanstandung der Lehre der Geistlichen (16 March 1910), ibid. no. 331; Vorwärts, 5 July 1911, cited W. Härle and H. Leipold (eds.), Lehrfreiheit und Lehrbeanstandung, i. 128–31.

882

Kirchengesetz, betr. das Verfahren bei Beanstandung der Lehre der Geistlichen (16 March 1910), ibid. no. 331; Vorwärts, 5 July 1911, cited W. Härle and H. Leipold (eds.), Lehrfreiheit und Lehrbeanstandung, i. 128–31.

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of the political and social fabric by church and state authorities. Carl Jatho (1851–1913), a pupil of Marburg and Leipzig practical theology, and from 1891 a very popular pastor and preacher in his Cologne parish, began in 1905 to annoy some parishioners and his Koblenz consistory with doctrinal interpretations which verged on pantheism, and conflicted with the Creed and Lutheran justification. To know how to proceed was difficult. The EOK eventually decided to use the new procedure in January 1911. This led to hearings between 27 March and 24 June in which Jatho was defended by the theologian, Otto Baumgarten of Kiel University, and the Dortmund pastor, Gottfried Traub (1869–1959), who promptly fell foul of his own consistory. Jatho's opinions on the Christian faith and church were judged to be at variance with his continuing as a parish clergyman, and he was unfrocked. A case which was accompanied by unusually high media coverage overheated liberal opinion; Troeltsch in Christliche Welt (July 1911) ventilated the need for freedom of conscience both in the Christian church as a whole, and also in established churches, invoking what happened as a result of Stuart uniformity—the English Civil War; thirty-seven theologians, several representing the new practical theology of Marburg, Heidelberg, and Strasburg, signed a statement warning about the dangers inherent in the new court in Christliche Welt on 3 August 1911.883 It made little difference. Traub's angry reply in September in a popular tract Staatskirchentum oder Volkskirche demanding a congregational church, the abolition of all coercion in doctrinal and liturgical matters, and the separation of church and state, led to summary justice by the Westphalian senior consistory at Münster on 10 October. Traub was charged with mocking his established church and breaking his ordination vows; Traub charged his superiors with partiality; the EOK referred the case to Breslau, to little avail for Traub. On 5 July 1912, the EOK unfrocked Traub without a pension. Harnack called the decision, against an official defendant of Jatho, a breach of the law reminiscent of the fourth and fifth centuries (the spirit of Thomasius was in the wings); and said that the Prussian Landeskirche was not living in a period of decline, but in one of slow progress checked unfortunately by some heavy-handed blunders which put patience sorely to the test. Once again establishment had the say. Traub's loyal parishioners failed to elect a like-minded

883

Huber and Huber, iii. nos. 340–1.

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579

successor on 11 June 1913, and they failed to reinstate Traub on 30 September 1914—a more propitious moment, they thought, given Traub's new nationalist stance. Traub's membership of the new Pan-German Vaterlandspartei (1917) and his overt support for a war of annexations failed to impress either. His reinstatement as a pastor by the EOK on 15 November 1918 happened only after a strong prompt by the emperor.884 These cases raised the question of separating church and state, especially at a time when the Bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (1900), a modern code of civil legislative practice since 1875, put an end to the idea of churches established by a mix of canon and civil law.885 For instance, the religious rite of marriage was renamed ‘civil marriage’. In this new civil environment, Rudolph Sohm (1841–1917), professor of law at Strasburg after 1872, and like Harnack a scholar of the Early Church and the Reformation, argued on the premiss ‘we are all Collegialists today’, which he uttered with more than a pinch of Attic salt, that the eighteenth-century contractual view of the Protestant church as a ‘college’, ‘society’, or ‘corporation’, with privileged status in the state, the product of the old dependent agrarian and provincial order, was inappropriate to a rapidly changing national urban and industrial order. Church and state were no longer interdependent: it might be better to think of the church as entirely spiritual, and the law as entirely secular.886 Gottfried Arnold and Tolstoy, who had taken to heart Arnold's views, spring to mind. How did custom as the expression of Christian consciousness and regulator of the Christian church relate to modern legal arrangements of the social fabric? It was thus natural that Sohm crossed swords in 1909 with his colleague, the liberal collegialist Wilhelm Kahl (1849–1932), professor at Bonn (1888–93) and Berlin thereafter, who fashioned Prussia's heresy law, and Harnack who defended its procedure, by saying publicly that Prussian Kirchenregiment was really behind the new doctrinal court: the Gospel could certainly protect the king of Prussia, but the king of Prussia could never protect the Gospel.887 The Protestant church was not an

884

Ibid. 799–80, nos. 348–9.

885

Ibid. 1 passim.

886

Sohm, Kirchenrecht (1892), 2nd edn. (Munich, 1923), i. 1; Hope, ‘View from the Province’, JEH 41 (1990), 607, 620.

887

Sohm, ‘Noch einmal der Lehrgerichtshof, Der Tag, 19–21 Dec. 1909, Huber and Huber, iii. no. 330.

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‘infallible’ church. The question, ‘Who decides?’ was an impossible one to answer in Protestant churches. Sohm warned, prophetically, that it was politic to ‘put up again thy sword into his place’ (Matthew 26: 52).888 This was thinking of a similar nature to that which underlay the curial Codex Juris Canonici, published at Whitsun 1917; it defended the autonomy of the Roman Catholic church, and asked for its recognition via concordats reached with the modern state. However, the more mundane question of improving clergy stipends provides, as a knotty mathematics—fractions—a much better illustration of the labour involved in modernizing Reformation churches. The medieval benefice, a grant of land for life, and the obligation imposed on parishioners to pay tithe (a third or a quarter in kind) and fees (temporaliter) as a reward for a parson's services were converted first in 1900 in Scandinavia and Germany into a fixed annual money payment. This allowed the provision of the first adequate clergy pensions, and provided for clergy children. The state became the real paymaster in a system of parish church tax. Clergy pay had fallen completely out of step with the rise of the modern economy, labour mobility, and modern local and state taxation after 1870. Necessary financial legislation therefore raised the existential question of church autonomy for poor Reformation churches which were setting aside the idea of the prince as custos ecclesiae. Clergy worried much that stipends and church property, vicarage farms and glebe, might become political bargaining counters with state and municipal authorities and parliaments. In Denmark, the thorny issue of church property and clergy stipends raised by the parliamentary Folkekirke, was first taken seriously by the reforming liberal ministry led by the firm but humane hand of Jens Christian Christensen (1856–1930), education minister (1901–3) and Prime Minister (1903–8) in a complex of church laws passed by parliament on 15 May 1903.889 These were designed to put the Folkekirke more firmly into the hands of parishioners, and define the civil and religious spheres in a parish clergyman's duties. The municipality (Kommune), a unit congruent with the Danish parish (Sogn), converted clergy offerings into a fixed payment

888

Sohm, ‘Der Lehrgerichtshof ’, Der Tag, 25 Nov. 1909, ibid. no. 328.

889

Christensen, ‘vil man gøre folkekirken afholdt af dens medlemmer da bør man give dem indflydelse på styrelsen af folkekirkens sager . . . man skal aldrig lovgive længere end livet kræver det’, cited Lindhardt, Vækkelse og kirkelige retninger, 176 passim.

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as a church tax, much to the annoyance of the Indre Mission who wanted to preserve an evangelical church supported by voluntary contributions in an organization such as Copenhagen's Church Fund. Royal district commissions supported by the Danish treasury in a survey reminiscent of a modern Domesday Book began the lengthy mathematical process of converting tithe and its annual yield, into capital, interest, and a difference which was to be paid by the state. This pleased Denmark's farming community at long last, but it was ruinous for the established church, which was no longer linked to a price-indexed corn tithe, but to a fixed capital sum. The First World War and the ensuing inflation meant that the real value of clergy stipends sank accordingly. The Folkekirke became therefore increasingly dependent on the taxpayer and financial support by the state. Separation of church and state became an unthinkable option, but a reality in 1919, when Danish vicarage farms—what remained of historic Danish church property—were divided up and turned into interest-bearing capital in a large-scale land reform just as post-war inflation began to bite. In northern ‘Slesvig/Schleswig’ this took place in 1949 for the first time. In Sweden, the traditional notion of a privileged clergy complicated a halting nineteenth-century reform of clergy stipends which bonded unhappily to Sweden's unreformed medieval agrarian parish system. Private remuneration contracts (1810–62), and the idea of using a tax on owners of the many forests (Skogsordning, 1866) in 1876 for a church fund (Ecklesiastika boställens skogsfond)—this was reformed in the interest of more efficient administration in 1894—had not been very successful.890 Pay was also a touchy issue in a church served by many junior clergy, since rectors of other parishes (Pastorat) employed assistant clergy (Komministrar, virtually permanent curates), as well as curates (Adjunkten). Both clergy ranks earned so little that they could hardly pay for home and family. If tithe was to be abolished there had to be adequate compensation. Adequate pay might improve the quality of pastoral care too. Committees appointed by the Swedish parliament and Ecclesiastical Council spent a fraught six years (1897–1906) trying to find an equitable way of commuting tithe into regular stipends and pensions provision, and building a viable church fund which could help clergy in under-endowed parishes which imposed a heavy burden of

890

S. Alsne, Från prästtionden till reglerad lön: Pastoralie-konventionerna i Uppsala ärkestift 1810–1862 (Uppsala, 1966).

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pastoral care. Bishops such as Gottfrid Billing, mindful of a church which had preserved a degree of independent status, argued that if successive clergy privileges had secured Sweden's parish clergy tithe and other fees, the new pay arrangements would have to give similar guarantees. The church could not become a political bargaining counter in parliament.891 However, as happened in Denmark, the very complex stipendiary legislation (Prästlönereglering) of 9 December 1910, which introduced an annual fixed stipend graded according to rank, size of parish, and number of parishioners, bound the church increasingly to the state in a process of tithe commutation which came to an end first in 1944. In 1910, cathedral deans received 8,000–10,000 crowns, a rector previously entitled to the whole tithe received 4,000–8,000 crowns, and assistant clergy 2,500–5,000 crowns; both rectors and assistant clergy could augment stipends if they could prove high living costs and a demanding pastoral care. An old-age pension was provided for the first time (80%: 2,000–3,200 crowns) at a retirement age of 70 (65 for those in ill–health). New too was the division of the traditional vicarage farm comprising the vicarage, farm buildings, and glebe (Ecklesiastik boställsordning). All clergy received a free home with a garden, but as was to be expected in a large country defined by different habitats ranging between arctic and pastoral, the new arrangements were far from fair.892 This new legal framework, based on the traditional principle that every parish had to pay for its incumbent, queried the say that Sweden's Ecclesiastical Council and parish councils had in these financial arrangements. Amalgamation of daughter parishes made big inroads into parish autonomy; administration of the new church fund left the issue of state, church, or parish management unclear. Tithe commutation into fixed capital, especially in the inflationary wartime and post-war years impoverished the church, thereby increasing its reliance, as with its Danish sister church, on the state and taxable parishioners. Stipends covered by parish tax, 40.2 per cent in 1910, had risen to just under 57.7 per cent in 1926.893 Clergy who worried about the real value of stipends eaten away by inflation, asked whether stipends, paid by the state and taxable citizens, came at the price of preaching the Gospel and adequate pastoral care.

891

Brilioth, Vården om kyrkan, 31–55; Rodhe, Svenska kyrkan omkring sekelskiftet, 299 passim.

891

Brilioth, Vården om kyrkan, 31–55; Rodhe, Svenska kyrkan omkring sekelskiftet, 299 passim.

892

Brilioth, Svensk kyrkokunskap, 178 passim.

893

Ibid. 183.

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In Protestant Germany, the period 1890–1914 saw, in the new synodal framework, the almost universal introduction of church tax, though its introduction was complicated as usual by poor Landeskirchen.894 The loss of fees implied by the introduction of civil marriage in 1875 and its codification in the new civil code in 1900 was an added incentive to sounder stipendiary provision. Important, however, was the increasing voice of the state in the management of church finance comprising maintenance and stipends (Ch. 18). Acknowledgement of the right of parishes to collect church tax was always considered subsidiary to state subvention according to need. The introduction of church tax in Württemberg (1887) and Baden (1888) was complemented by legislation in both states in 1906 which attempted to define parish competence constitutionally. In Prussia, state and church laws of 1892 issued for both the old and new Protestant church provinces abolished fees for baptism, marriage, and the publication of banns, and replaced them with a state annuity; a Prussian church tax was introduced in a clutch of laws passed during 1903–6. Church tax, Ortskirchensteuer (1905), was defined as a subsidiary source of income for a church which received a state subsidy according to needs (Bedürfniszuschüssen). The principle of the Catholic church's ‘endowment’ (Dotation) was rejected out of hand, owing to a painful memory amongst officialdom of state compensatory payments following Catholic secularization in 1803 (1810 in Prussia); it was argued officially that the Protestant church was too much a part of the social fabric for the state to act simply as a pay office making bequests without strings attached.895 This legislation introduced the first regular stipends and pensions for Protestant and Catholic clergy. In Bavaria, where pay was regarded theoretically by the 1818 constitution as a state matter, church tax was eventually introduced in 1908 legislation (revised in 1910) which included lay ‘church tax synods’, and was broadened in 1912 by a new definition of parish order. Saxony introduced church tax in 1913 on similar lines to Prussia. Alsace-Lorraine after 1871 provided an interesting anomaly. It kept the Napoleonic Organic Articles (1802) which obliged the municipalities to finance both

894

German legislation: Huber and Huber, iii. 27 passim ; Jeserich et al. (eds.), Deutsche Verwaltungsgeschichte, iii. 558–9.

895

‘Bei dem innigen Verwachsensein zwischen der evangelischen Landeskirche und dem Staat ist es ganz unmöglich, daβ man den Staat bloβ als eine Zahlungsstelle betrachte’ etc., apropos legislation which also applied to the Catholic church: von Goβler in parliament (1888/9), Huber and Huber, iii. 37 passim.

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Protestant and Catholic churches. After 1871, a so-called Landeskasse paid out clergy stipends; this was refined by a law (15 March 1909) to include stipends and pensions for Protestant and Catholic clergy and rabbis.896

II. War and Hard Times Again In 1914, one might begin with Sweden, and continue with Germany. If a nationalist view of Reformation churches, (the Reformers saw national churches as provinces of Christendom), is a dangerous one in a modern world order where church establishment plays only a marginal role in the nation-state—in 1914 Söderblom was one amongst a handful of Protestant theologians to understand this fundamental point—it may make sense to look at this growing Swedish perception of the place of Protestant church establishment first, before looking at the tragedy which the First World War became for Germany's Protestant churches. It took three brutal years of total war for an understanding of the darker side of human nature—an issue raised at the Reformation by Luther in, for example, his fierce reply De servo arbitrio (1525) to Erasmus's De libero arbitrio (1524)—to sink in: a full 400 years after the Reformation. Swedish theologians and clergy, in a pre-war decade of modern crisis, took to heart the modern pastoral theology of Ritschl and his pupils, converted it into one in which religion, the prophetic preaching of Jesus (in contrast to natural religion) was primary, and used this view of the Christian church as a way of breaking out of their isolation as a Lutheran national church and influencing other Protestant sister churches to do the same. Early Christian fellowship, the religious community, the Christian church instituted by the Gospel and sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist, the common ideal which underlay the territorial parish, became the model for a modern Swedish folkkyrkan for all, in contrast to the evangelical view of the congregation as one united by personal conversion and faith in the atoning death of Christ. ‘Evangelical Catholicity’, a form of Protestant solidarity which kept an eye open to other religious persuasions, which Söderblom learnt from the modern French and German understanding of the history of religion, was seen as a way of protecting a Protestant church's autonomy at a time when clergy

896

Giese, Deutsches Kirchensteuerrecht (1910), 190; Huber and Huber, iii. no. 50.

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stipends and church finance seemed to suggest that an established Protestant church would in future be bound more closely to the modern nation-state, to parliamentary scrutiny, and party-politics—which, to judge by the successful advance of national social-democratic parties and the Second International, seemed to have little interest in Christian establishment or religion in the modern civil order. This revision of church establishment was also inspired by the successful implantation of Anglo-American Christian youth fellowships, the YMCA and the Student Christian Movement in Scandinavia: as student organizations at Uppsala (1879), Christiania (1881), and Copenhagen (1882), and as the ‘Scandinavian Student Meeting with a Christian Programme’, first at Hillerød near Copenhagen (1890), the second at Horten in Norway (1892), and the third in Sweden at Vadstena Castle (1895), which established a federation. A new ‘Young Church’ movement became very popular at Uppsala in the decade before war broke out.897 The American Methodist, John Mott (1865–1955), the general secretary from 1895 of the World SCM, received a rapturous welcome at Uppsala in 1909; in the same year Uppsala students went on a ‘crusade’ in the new industrial suburbs of nearby Stockholm and Gävle. It was a mission marked by a conservative touch of national romance at the time of Sweden's constitutional severance from Norway in 1905. A representative figure was Johan Alfred Eklund (1863–1945), a pastor and lecturer in theology at Uppsala until 1907, thereafter bishop of Karlstad until 1938, who had taken to Ritschlianism, English empirical philosophy, and the humanist philosophy of religion taught by the Copenhagen philosopher, Harald Høffding. (1843–1931), and which he published as a book, Religionsfilosofi (1901).898 Eklund, the son of a poor tailor and from a home that warmed to Schartau's evangelism, who grew up in the traditionalist home-parish culture of western Sweden (Ryda, Västergotland), emphasized, in sharp contrast to the ‘truth’ sought by Sweden's urban liberal culture, the need for a sense of roots, and home-parish fellowship defined by Sweden's Lutheran Reformation heritage as

897

Rouse, The World's Student Christian Federation, Ungkyrkorörelsen 1912–1917 (Uppsala, 1974).

898

Grane (ed.), Københavns universitet, v. 479 passim.

43–4; A. Tergel, Ungkyrkomännen, arbeterfrågan och nationalismen 1901–1911

(1969); id., Från konfrontation till institution:

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the basis for Christian renewal in a national sense. Eklund's ecclesiology was expressed with much charm in his widely distributed lecture, Stenkyrkan (1909), to Uppsala students praising the old medieval parish church as a living fellowship united by the bond of generations (släkt), and by his fine crusading hymn ‘Fädernas kyrka i Sveriges land’ of the same year—the only hymn in the Swedish hymn-book which mentioned ‘Sweden’ (seven times)—set to a melody by a theologian who became an important spokesman for this new Swedish ecclesiology after 1918, Gustav Aulén (1879–1978).899 Equally influential, if not more so as a Luther scholar and ecumenist, was another youthful modifier of Ritschl, Einar Billing (1871–1939), a cousin to the influential ‘high church’ bishop of Lund after 1898, Gottfrid Billing (1841–1925).900 As a professor of doctrine and moral theology at Uppsala (1909–20; subsequently bishop of Västerås), Einar Billing, like Söderblom, fashioned a Christology based on a linkage of the prophetic Old and New Testaments in his Atonement (Forsöningen, 1908), and in essays of the same year which defined the folkkyrkan as a church which expressed in the baptismal covenant the saving grace conferred by the Gospel (Billing used ‘forgiveness of sins’ as a synonym) in the territorial parish. Billing, with Söderblom and Aulén, pioneered a Swedish rediscovery of Luther using the new historical and psychological approach, which complemented and ultimately enriched the similar work of a contemporary German scholar, Karl Holl (see below), and used this to propagate the separation of the Swedish church from its congruence with Sweden's social order in the still relevant Church Law of 1686. Billing turned the Lund high churchmanship of his father's generation into one with a more open perspective. Söderblom, too, owed much to Uppsala's youthful churchmanship. He was a close friend of Karl Henrik Fries (1861–1943), secretary of the Swedish YMCA from 1888, and he represented the Swedish SCM in the American YMCA Northfield conference in the summer of 1890. He used to great effect its youthful message of hope, combining it with Sabatier's ‘divine fire . . . which will warm and

899

‘Hvad det egentligen gäller—det vet jag väl—det är den lefvande kyrkan, huset, som är byggt af de lefvande stenarna’, Eklund, Stenkyrkan, 3rd edn. (Uppsala, 1913), 20.

900

See Bibliography; Billing's wife, Gerda, has given us a fine insight into their life in the Uppsala prebend, Hagby, before war broke out: Den oförglömliga prästgården: några minnen från ett prebende (1950).

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enlighten you’ uttered to his Parisian ordinands (2 November 1896), as a way of encouraging Uppsala ordinands in their future pastoral vocation in his inaugural lecture as professor of theological encyclopedia at Uppsala University on 24 September 1901.901 The foundation for Söderblom's appeal for peace in September 1914, his series of peace initiatives during the First World War, and his programme ‘Life and Work’ after 1918, was, in a sense, in the decade before 1914, a renewal of the contacts which Swedish clergy had forged step by step with other Protestant churches in the period 1650–1720 (Ch. 7). It was accompanied and balanced, however, by the new Swedish evangelical interest in American (and Scottish) free churchmanship (a quarter of Sweden's population had emigrated to America by 1910), by a Neo-Lutheran policy of contacts visible in the visits to the American Augustana synod by Schéele (bishop of Visby) on the quadcentenary of the Uppsala meeting in 1893, in 1901, and in 1910, and Schéele's sponsorship, with his like-minded Danish colleague, the theologian Henrik Scharling (1836–1920), of contacts with German Neo-Lutherans at the Hanover (1890), Schwerin (1895), and Lund (1901, under Schéele's chairmanship) conferences. The Anglican Lambeth Conference of 1887 (which first became aware of a Lutheran Scandinavian mission in America and in the British colonies), Randall Davidson's inconclusive exploratory summer visit as dean of Windsor (from 1888) to Copenhagen and Uppsala in August 1889, and the establishment of a committee at the 1897 Lambeth Conference to look into the rite of ordination in the Swedish church, fit into these chance encounters which began the path towards Swedish—Anglican intercommunion.902 Henry William Tottie (1856–1913), a lecturer in church history and ecclesiastical. law at Uppsala since 1885, an authority on the Caroline church (he wrote the biographies of Bishops Spegel and Svedberg), professor of practical theology (1893–1900), and bishop of Kalmar thereafter, a pastor interested in mission (he visited South Africa in 1886) and diocesan synods (in 1906, he founded at Kalmar the first Swedish diocesan synod), was, given his Scottish commercial ancestry, one amongst a mere handful of leading Swedish clergy

901

English text: Sharpe, Söderblom and the Study of Religion, app. 1; Sundkler, Söderblom, 58–9.

902

Y. Brilioth, ‘Ärkebiskop Davidson's svenska resa’, Från skilda tider: Studier tillägn Hjalmar Holmquist (1938), 86–103.

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in 1900 who spoke and wrote good English; a scholar, too, who emphasized in his lectures that Anglican intercommunion might be a better approach for a similar sister church than the Prussian model of 1817. Tottie thus became the first non-Anglican bishop to address the Lambeth Conference of 1908, composed of 242 bishops chaired by John Wordsworth (1843–1911), bishop of Salisbury from 1885. Its outcome was a commission which began AngloSwedish intercommunion by looking at Sweden's historic episcopate, ministry, and confirmation rite. Wordsworth, who became a good friend of Tottie, wrote the first English account of the Swedish church since the Reformation (1911).903 Söderblom naturally seized the same initiative after seeing, by chance, the relevant correspondence in Archbishop Ekman's study. In the autumn he visited Davidson in Canterbury and Wordsworth in Salisbury, and attended an Oxford conference on the history of religion. It was the prelude to the leading part he played in negotiations during the first Anglican visit to Uppsala in September 1909. As a pupil of this new Swedish ecclesiology, Söderblom put weight on the doctrinal authority of the Augsburg Confession in the Swedish church, asked that the ministry be judged on its function of preaching the Gospel, and brought to attention the historic ‘independence’ of the Swedish church in contrast to the Anglican notion of a ‘supreme governor’ appointing bishops. These were early days: there was strong Anglican criticism of the way Söderblom ‘in a black and silver chasuble’ had communicated in the first joint service held in his Holy Trinity church next to Uppsala cathedral on 21 September, the feast of St Matthew.904 The essence of Söderblom's ecclesiology, to be found already in his essay, ‘The Religion of Revelation’ (Uppenbarelsereligion, 1903), a reference to the German Babel and Bible controversy raised by the controversial public lectures (1902–3) of the Assyriologist, Friedrich Delitzsch (1850–1922), is that religion and morals are not identical: there is a religion of revelation, the Christian faith revealed prophetically by Jesus (rediscovered by Luther in his Reformation) which

903

Rodhe, Svenska kyrkan omkring sekelskiftet, 399–401; The Church of England and the Church of Sweden : Report of the Commission appointed by the Archbishop of Canterbury in pursuance of Resolution 74 in the Lambeth Conference of 1908 in the Relation of the Anglican Communion to the Church of Sweden (London, 1911); C. H. Lytkkens, Growth of Swedish Anglican Intercommunion, 219 passim ; Wordsworth, The National Church of Sweden.

904

The Guardian, 27 Oct. 1909, cited Sundkler, 95–6.

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coexists with a modern religion of culture serving merely the values of the modern inert nation-state, and there is room for the ‘holy’: spontaneous religious experience, which Söderblom missed in Ritschl, of the kind Rudolf Otto (below) outlined in his 1906 centennial edition of Schleiermacher's Speeches. Söderblom's ‘Evangelical Catholicity’, linking prewar liturgical renewal with a rediscovery of the sacramental, lay at the heart of his view of the Christian church which makes no distinction between visible and invisible, personal and institutional religion. National churches, provinces of Christendom, cannot, therefore, Söderblom argued, be recognized as divisions of the Christian church; one should, rather, refer to the ‘church in Sweden’; the Augsburg Confession and the Anglican Thirty-Nine Articles can coexist; bishops and Apostolic succession are safeguards for the independence of the modern church of the kind Söderblom experienced later as the consecrator of the first Lutheran bishops of the Estonian and Latvian republics in Tallinn (1921) and Riga (1922).905 This was a view which also allowed Söderblom to combine his insight into the living world of Eastern Orthodoxy he experienced when lecturing at the Constantinople SCM conference in April 1911 with what he called his ‘discreet Germanophile’ leanings; ones strengthened by his tenure of Leipzig's new history of religion chair (he retained his Uppsala professorship) between January 1912 and the outbreak of war in August 1914. The summer of 1914 brought a contrary wind. The first hesitant approaches in the direction of German and Scandinavian dialogue as part of a new ecumenical initiative were swept aside by a euphoric Protestant German national ‘Spirit of 1914’; this counted very much more than the irenic notion of Protestant national churches as provinces within the Christian church, and such promotion in Scandinavian neutral states which regarded a strict declaration of neutrality (8 August) and pacifism as the only means of preservation for a nation sandwiched between the great modern Baltic powers of Russia and Germany. Söderblom's unexpected election as archbishop, aged 38 on 18 March 1914, and his consecration in Uppsala cathedral on 8 November, a sea change amongst an elderly episcopate (Ullman was 77, Gottfrid Billing, the likeliest candidate, 73), looked propitious for

905

G. Smith (ed.), The Baltic States, 46–7.

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a personality equipped with a dramatic sense of occasion (Söderblom had the actor in him), and a strong historical imagination: the latter had prompted him in 1913 while in Leipzig to visit the scenes of Gustavus Adolphus's Lützen and Charles XII's Altranstädt; also, in 1915, to confidences as a good Lutheran Swede and Russophobe in correspondence with his friend, the irenic Leipzig theologian Ludwig Ihmels (1858–1933), that he still thought of Germany as defending western civilization against Eastern barbarism.906 However, Söderblom's peace appeal in seven languages in September 1914 was officially rejected out of hand by Franz Dibelius (1847–1924), the Saxon Oberhofprediger, on 2 October, in the interests of a just German war. Söderblom admitted sadly in his first lengthy pastoral letter, which analysed the enormous theological 1914 literature of national self-justification, that he could not understand how great scholars, his pre-war mentors, could join in a hysterical chorus condemning ‘the enemy’. Were they the same men.907 The Protestant German ‘Spirit of 1914’ was one which preferred to the provincial order and values of the many Landeskirchen; nineteenth-century national heroes and military prowess: national liberation in 1813, the short and successful wars of 1864 against Denmark, unification in 1866, and victory over France in 1870. Berlin gave this national mood a focus; court chaplains invoked these gods. Bruno Doehring (1879–1961) conducted an open-air service on 2 August in the Königsplatz between Berlin's victory arches and the Reichstag flanked by the statues of Bismarck, Moltke, and Roon, in which he spoke of the heroism of those who fought for ‘liberty’ in 1813. On 4 August, Ernst von Dryander (1843–1922), a Hallesian who possessed great personal charm as a warm and irenic father-figure to many ordinands in the cathedral seminary (Domkandidatenstift), conducted a service for parliamentarians in Berlin cathedral and preached on the text of Romans 8: 31 (‘If God be for us, who can stand against us?’). In a war, he said, for ‘German civilization against barbarism: . . . German faith and piety are intimately bound up with German civilization’.908 Adolf Harnack

906

To Ihmels, 12 Oct. 1915, Sundkler, 178.

907

Herdabref till prästerskapet och församlingarna i Uppsala arkestift (Uppsala, 1914). Peace initiatives: Karlström, Kristna samförståndssträvanden under världskriget 1914–1918, etc.

908

In, B. Doehring (ed.), Ein feste Burg: Predigten und Reden aus eherner Zeit (Berlin, 1914), i. 14 passim. Doehring speaking of the ‘guilty covetousness’ of the Entente, used the archaic adjective ‘schuldhaft ’ conveying the sense of imprisonment for debt, Mehnert, Evangelische Kirche und Politik, 33–5.

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thought too that he saw in the outbreak of war the welling up of hidden religious feelings, of something ‘ideal’, whether it be the Fatherland, or some good which was worth striving for.909 August and September 1914 looked to church leaders as though it were a Protestant springtime. Church attendance was higher than ever before in most parish churches. In secular-minded Hamburg, Sunday services in August at St Michael easily filled its seating for 3,500–4,000, other services fluctuated between 1,500–2,000, and in other Hamburg parishes church attendance rose by c. 125 per cent.910 If 5–10 per cent, or often lower, was the previous average in many parish churches, the autumn brought a doubling. Many parish clergy warmed to national renewal; they could not leave the old order quickly enough; Christian peace initiatives were simply swept aside: Martin Rade's description of the war on 17 September 1914 as ‘the bankruptcy of Christendom’ lost Christliche Welt some 600 subscribers by March 1915; in contrast, subscriptions to Naumann's Hilfe, which included his ‘War Chronicle’ and Gottfried Traub's ‘Devotions’ which used, instead of Bible texts, quotations from Luther, Goethe, Fichte, Arndt, and Bismarck for reflection, grew very rapidly.911 Few clergy seemed to manage psychologically the illusory, euphoric, national temper of the summer and early autumn; many thought that it must continue: the moment blinded many to the reality of poor church attendance, and to religiosity which had more to do with social convention connected with baptism (or confirmation, perhaps), marriage, and burial. Adolf Harnack fashioned for himself a very heavy cross to bear, one he could never really set down again, in putting his name to the Proclamation of the Ninety-Three German Professors to the Cultural World (4 October 1914), which defended Germany as a cultured nation (Kulturvolk) which would fight to the bitter end to preserve the testament of a Goethe, Beethoven, and Kant.912 Here was a view which mocked Harnack's profound understanding of the Early Christian Church, and his humble Christian faith, which he had learnt to practise in his

909

Zahn-Harnack, Harnack, 350.

910

Schian, Deutsche Evangelische Kirche im Weltkriege, ii. 154.

911

Naumann, so Traub, told him when he began his regular Andachten (1904/5) in Hilfe, that he should not use Bible texts, but contemporary speech as Jesus spoke originally on the soil of Palestine: W. Huber, Kirche und Öffentlichkeit, 195, and ibid. 186, 192–5; German peace initiatives (see Bibliography) of whatever colour became almost treasonable.

912

Text: W. Härle, ‘Der Aufruf der 93 Intellektuellen und Karl Barths Bruch mit der liberalen Theologie’, ZThK 72 (1975), 209–10.

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Dorpat childhood. It was as if, in the heat of the moment, in public, in a plethora of public declarations, leading German modern theologians, men such as Herrmann and Troeltsch, could not have enough of a ‘just’ national war for the defence of German culture: it was an imperative moral duty. The same stance was true of like-minded Catholic colleagues: Albert Ehrhard and Sebastian Merkle both signed the October Proclamation. This example set by senior theologians encouraged many pastors to want to participate in the national war effort. Percentages of professional army chaplains amongst parish clergy were as follows: the Hansa cities led, Hamburg (26.31% of 114 clergy), Bremen (24.39% of 41), Lübeck (16.66% of 24), little Saxon Stolberg (16.36% of 55), Frankfurt am Main (16.28% of 43), the Wiesbaden consistory (14.13% of 276), Reuss junior line (11.86% of 59), Saxony-Weimar-Eisenach (11.38% of 246); most other Landeskirchen remained just below 10 per cent: Saxony (9.85% of 1686), Baden, where the senior consistory stopped ‘controversial’ work on the new service-book in the interests of national reconciliation (9.94% of 503); the highest figures in Prussia's old and new church provinces were the Reformed Rhineland (8.84% of 803), Reformed Aurich (7.81% of 128), Lutheran Pomerania (7.5% of 786); and Reformed Westphalia (7.32% of 628).913 Parish clergy and synods ‘Germanized’. Paul Grünberg distributed at Strasburg printed sermons calling for a German Alsace; the abolition of the French language in public worship was proposed—this caused the resignation of the president of the Lutheran church in Alsace, the lawyer, Friedrich Curtius (1851–1933), who had refused this request. Synods, church conferences, and the Protestant church press united in the Germanizing of ‘foreign words’ used in official church work and correspondence: as late as 9 February 1917, Saxony's senior consistory found it necessary to order the replacement of Konfirmation, and Konfirmieren, official confirmation of pastoral appointments, with Bestätigung and Bestätigen.914 Lutherans, the Reformed, and Catholics copied the national truce between the political parties, though Protestant clergy in western and eastern Prussia worried about the employment of Jesuit army chaplains until the abrogation of Bismarck's anti-Jesuit law on 19 April 1917, but in contrast there was little comment on

913

Schian, ii. 67–8. At the front, also during worship, chaplains wore field-grey uniforms with a silver pectoral cross; behind the lines, cassocks, Schian, i. 209.

914

Ibid. 18–19, 287.

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the emperor's eventual confirmation on 31 August 1914 of the pro-German Pole, Edward Likowski (elected in 1907), as archbishop of Posen-Gnesen.915 Germany's Catholic bishops became more accommodating too, taking the emperor's confidence in Germans as being addressed specifically to them, and the successful Austrian alliance as a cue for Catholic renewal. The pastoral letter signed by Germany's twenty-seven archbishops and bishops on All Saints' Day 1917 used the text, Matthew 22: 21, as Dryander had done in August 1914, as a way of showing their loyalty to the German emperor and princes, to monarchy, at a time when the Codex juris canonici saw the light of day.916 It did seem, certainly in the years 1914 and 1915, that church leaders, and many parish clergy too, preferred a national gospel to the Christian one. It was a different story at the level of the home parish and at the front. What many pastors had interpreted as a national religious awakening died out by the autumn of 1915. At the front, in the military communications zone and in the occupied areas, this was visible already in October 1914. Army chaplains made a grave misjudgement about a religious revival amongst a captive mass congregation of men from different backgrounds under military discipline. Letters home, war diaries, observations made during pastoral visits, show clearly that there was no religious revival; on the field of battle there was no time anyway to reflect on the Christian gospel of eternal life. The 1914 war diary of this author's grandfather, a lieutenant in the Pioneers on the front at Blangy (Lower Seine), is a factual one in note form: it has more to say about daily changes of fortune; sometimes the terrible beauty of havoc wrought by artillery barrages in a brutish war he was glad his French mother had not lived to experience; of wondering, in a moment between life and maybe death, about the accuracy of the next shell in the choking darkness of a burning building which he had tried to secure to save the lives of his detachment: that night, though, in the light provided by a burning mill close by, he did read Psalm 38, with a feeling he had never felt so strongly before, of thankfulness to God for a wonderful deliverance. The diary breaks off at Christmas 1914; his subsequent war experience was something he never shared with his children; if he ever talked of it at all, it was occasionally, with his

915

Ibid. 32–3; W. W. Hagen, Germans, Poles, and Jews: The Nationality Conflict in the Prussian East, 1772–1914 (Chicago, 1980), 206–7.

916

Scholder, The Churches and the Third Reich, i. 11–12.

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pals.917 Other evidence from the trenches shows, in terrible circumstances, a natural enough belief in miracles; superstitious practice invoking protection, Himmelsbriefe, was common; a sense of Fate; as the war wore on, ennui, awareness of the senselessness of it all, a shared heavy burden, and a gathering anger at rank, officers, professional army chaplains, and the more prevalent honorary army chaplains.918 The course of the First World War really showed that Germany's Protestant Landeskirchen, both at home and at the front, were wholly unprepared in their response to a modern national and industrial war, and the way the national military machine drove them rapidly along willy-nilly, and wrecked their church orders both in a material and constitutional sense. Landeskirchen were not sanctuaries; on the contrary, the hold of tradition and rights, bred ignorance amongst local clergy and parishioners about a Christian stance in national wartime, and national participatory politics. In 1914 it was still difficult for constitutional lawyers to enumerate how many Landeskirchen there were: thirty-seven, thirty-eight, or thirty-nine perhaps in twenty-six states?919 All had a strong sense of their historic traditions and rights, their own will. The first wartime day of prayer called for by the emperor on 2 August did not take place everywhere on the same day, or in the same form. In Prussia, it was celebrated on a different day in each church province; in Saxony and Brunswick on 7 August, or on Sunday 9 August; in Hessen, Württemberg, and Bavaria—churches not used to a weekday day of prayer—on Sunday 9 August. In Prussia it was only a day of prayer, but in Lutheran Bavaria, Saxony and Württemberg it was both a wartime day of prayer and the traditional Lutheran day of penance and prayer (Buβ- und Bettag). The emperor's call for a common day of prayer in wartime never came to fruition during the war. There was no such thing as a national Protestant church at the front.920 Four major churches were equipped with their own military

917

He was awarded the Iron Cross: Heinrich Hopf (1875–1956), Kriegstagebuch 1914, entry 9 Nov.; ‘Heute ist Mutters Geburtstag. Wie gut, daβ sie diesen für das schöne französ. Land so schrecklichen Krieg nicht mehr erlebt’, entry 30 Oct. His dear sister, Magdalene (1873–1957), a schoolmistress, was a pacifist, and became a good friend and aide to Friedrich Wilhelm Foerster (1869–1966): (Hopf-Haeberlin papers).

918

Schian, i. 101 passim ; Weyrich, ‘Himmelsbrief, Monatsschrift für Pastoraltheologie, 11 (1914–15), 210–13; Bächtold-Stäubli, iv, s.v. ‘Himmelsbrief ’.

919

J. V. Bredt, Neues evangelisches Kirchenrecht für Preuβen (1921), i. 586 passim, cited Schian, ii. 39.

920

Schian, i. 1 passim.

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church orders: the Prussian Union (Berlin) based on orders of 1832 and 1902, Lutheran Saxony (Dresden) on an order of 1911, Lutheran Württemberg (Stuttgart) and Protestant Bavaria divided into Lutheran and Reformed Bavaria (Munich and Speyer) on an order of 1863. Army chaplains from the Grand Duchy of Hesse were also considered Groβherzoglich servants of the Landeskirche; it was the same with both Mecklenburgs, and both the Schwerin and Strelitz church authorities acted independently of each other. This made organization and communication slow and ponderous. These mother churches and their senior clergy were thus quite unprepared, for either what shortly became trench warfare or the scale of military operations. Professional army chaplains were simply insufficient; there was a constant need to recruit honorary chaplains on a voluntary basis to provide pastoral care for the frontline trenches, the military communications zone, and the occupied areas. Worship on the field was still conducted according to the relevant local liturgies, with a variety of hymn-books and often with different tunes to the same hymns. The customary home liturgical division between the Formula Missae, Deutsche Messe, and Reformed service with sermon and separate communion service was replicated, mainly in the military communications zone and occupied areas, on the field. However, as the war wore on the simpler service with address or sermon (the Swabian model) became more popular. For a while too the Lutheran pastoral practice of being tended pastorally by one's own home church held, but the mixing of troops, often including Catholics, in the field put an end to this tradition as well. A feeling of comradeship in great adversity became predominant and bonded many, as against the home church and parish. At home, synodal churchmanship declined. Meetings were prorogued. Members were taking part in the war; many felt, in a climate of denominational truce, that it was not appropriate to continue a new church politics, or discuss controversial matters such as the liturgy; only the most essential business was dealt with. In the context of the fraught church politics of pre-war Berlin, divided between a ‘positive’ church party and liberals, it was agreed in March 1915, apropos the coming city synod elections and those of 1918, that the balance between church parties should remain where it stood; there should be no influencing of election procedure: no election meetings; no party broadsheets and church press agitation; and no bussing of supporters on election day. In Saxony in 1916

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synodal elections were postponed until the end of the war.921 Elections to the various parochial and congregational organs were put into abeyance. Few parishes bothered with their new elective organs, and where elections did take place, it was very weak: wives and the elderly were a limited constituency too. At the transregional level of the Eisenach conference, the two meetings of June 1914 and June 1917 did not discuss the war, or the position of the Protestant church in relation to the war at all. This was felt unnecessary. The 1914 meeting discussed the need to further the clergy's interest in the fine arts, procedure in parish elections, what to do about an increase in suicides, and remarriage; the 1917 meeting was taken up with preparation for the Reformation quadcentenary. On the other hand, the new permanent committee representing Germany's Protestant churches, Der Deutsche evangelische Kirchenausschuβ (1903), did have some success in getting local churches to agree to some common celebrations such as a national memorial day for the war dead, or in the lean year of 1917, the so-called Erntebitt service at the ‘Major Rogation’ (in 1919, services for the liberation of prisoners-of-war, and on Sunday 18 May public prayers apropos the publication of the Versailles peace proposals). Though the pre-war order of public worship continued throughout the war, it was disturbed, both in the obvious sense that the men were absent, and in the way wartime accelerated the pre-war trend towards a less rigid liturgy and homiletics, a more informal congregational service, and improvisation according to circumstance. Parish communion attendance in 1914 was seen by some as the best example of a religious awakening, but the extremely popular practice of family communion, even in Reformed churchscapes, was more of a fond farewell to loved ones than an indication of a rising frequency. The rise in 1913–14 was not large either: in Old Prussia, 3 per cent; the highest, in Württemberg, just over 9 per cent. Most Landeskirchen recorded a slight drop during the war if the records of 1913 and 1918 are used: Old Prussia (30.44% to 25.54%), Saxony (35.18% to 28.15%); most others were similar or below. Landeskirchen with higher ratios showed the same trend: Schaumburg Lippe (72.46% to 63.79%), Waldeck-Pyrmont (66.68% to 56.62%), Hessen-Nassau (48.65% to 44.86%), Hanover (47.56% to 41.01%), Hessen (47.32% to 42.53%), Baden (44.37% to 40.78%),

921

Huber and Huber, iii. no. 370; Schian, ii. 28–9.

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Württemberg (40.50%—in 1914, 49.55% to 38.66%). The Hansa cities remained low: Lübeck (14.67% to 13.79%), Bremen recorded a slight rise (7.03% to 9.02%), Hamburg (7.32% to 7.33%), Berlin (14.38% to 13.92%). The war did not really change parish convention, though it became noticeable that wives did not wish to communicate without their spouses.922 Christian burial in church, however, even in traditional nonchurchgoing areas, rose during the war: in Hamburg in 1913 (55.39% or less) in 1918 (80%); and in Berlin in the same period (65.55% to 80.53%). This became a great problem at the end of the war when there were insufficient gravediggers, horses, and carriages.923 The fortunes of war accelerated the pre-war trend towards a more informal liturgy which addressed circumstance and occasion. In most towns and cities short evening prayers, daily or twice a week, a fashion which had already appeared before the emperor called all to war prayers, became popular, but their frequency dropped as the hold of the war tightened; particularly in the country in the summer of 1917, given the need to work in the fields to cope with the growing food shortage. Weekday evening prayers consisted usually of a prayer theme chosen for the day, the congregation singing one or several verses of a relevant hymn, and the pastor reading a relevant passage from the Bible. A pastoral address was important for parishioners, and was often a full-length sermon rather than the prescribed 8–10 minutes. Dresden's senior consistory noted that weekday prayers which did not include an address were less popular; the district synod of Moers spoke of a resurgence of the Protestant vice of ‘liking the sermon’ (Rede).924 But a festive touch was very important too; the average parishioner, notably in large urban parishes, in Berlin, Dresden, and Stettin especially, liked to sing hymns—Luther and the troubled seventeenth-century hymn writers became popular again—and to hear ‘spiritual’ music in church. The Musikalische Andacht or Concert spirituel struck an emotive chord once again. Every two weeks, in weekday prayers, Trinity parish in Dresden included a musical performance by a voluntary church choir. A Thuringian urban weekday example could consist of Bach's Organ Prelude in E major, his organ chorales ‘Wenn wir in höchsten Nöten sein’, ‘Wer nun den lieben Gott läβt walten’, ‘Christe, du

922

Schian, ii. 189–90; frequency tables, 185–9.

923

Ibid. 200–2.

924

Ibid. 176–7.

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Lamm Gottes’, the congregational hymn ‘Wachet auf ’, Schubert's solos ‘Pax vobiscum’ and ‘Die Allmacht’, and Bach's organ chorale prelude ‘Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott’, which, as a congregational hymn, ended the service.925 School and parish choirs naturally suffered, but parishioners replaced this loss by restoring the Kurrende: Stettin's district synod introduced three choirs (with thirty choristers in each), financed by the free-will offerings of parishioners, in 1915. They sang on Sunday mornings and Wednesday afternoons in the streets and closes. At Erfurt the Erfurter evangelische Singeknaben became well-known. Saxony's thirty-eight surviving Kurrenden in 1917 were supplemented by forty-two new ones.926 This was symptomatic of the way parishioners in need turned to the personal, comforting moment in worship. Consistories found it difficult to balance a demand for more liturgical choice with prescribed liturgical order: Brandenburg while lenient, in August 1914, felt obliged to issue a stiff circular in 1916 against making this too much of a habit; Brunswick issued a church law in 1917 against too much licence with the liturgy. Such directives had little effect on a congregational mood of the kind articulated by the Duisburg district synod in 1915: prayers and responses did not have to be formulated by educated hymnologists and liturgists: they should reflect the heart and soul of the suffering parishioner. Karl Arper and Alfred Zillessen's three-volume Agende für Kriegszeiten (1914) became very popular, (part one had a print-run of 9,000–11,000; part two of 8,000–9,000, part three of 6,000–9,000), running to a third edition in 1915, as a liturgy providing something for everyone: it even included the controversial rubric ‘vaterländische Wörte’ between Epistle and Gospel, though both editors stressed in their preface that this exhortation should not replace Scripture. Important, too, was the way wartime adversity strengthened a sense of parish community: the parish magazine (Gemeindeblatt), and cheaply printed prayers issued by each Landeskirche as quarto single sheets, often illustrated with a woodcut such as Durer's ‘Knight, Death, and the Devil’, or little devotional pamphlets in octaves for use in the home or at the front, were distributed free from house to house, sold at the church door, or sent as printed matter. Turnover, reminiscent

925

Schian, 112.

926

Ibid. 243–5. Thuringians loved choirs: namely, Saxony-Weimar-Eisenach (1906); 111 Adjuvantenchöre, 111 mixed choirs, 230 youth choirs; Meiningen c. 170 choirs, Glaue, Thüringen, 209–10.

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perhaps of the Reformation, or the time described at the beginning of this book, was massive: the Berlin-Kölln synod alone distributed, in 1915/16 for home and front consumption, 350,000 calendars, 150,000 Christmas stories, 6,342,000 sermons, 10,134,000 ‘Glad Tidings (Frohe Botschaft), and an even larger number of church magazines: over 4 million copies of the Sonntagsfreund and Glockenklänge, and the same number of Kraft und Licht, and Wohin?.927 However, a call to open Protestant churches for prayer like Catholic churches (this had not happened much before 1914), a call which the emperor made official on 25 September 1914, received a very small response: parishioners were unaccustomed to this convention; it was difficult both in town and village churches to find someone to act as caretaker. To read printed 1914–18 sermons today, the so-called Kriegspredigt, and the modern commentaries thereon which stress an almost uniform emphasis, verging on propaganda, for a just war in the defence of German culture and arms, is extremely depressing. To lay it all at Ritschl's door is to stretch a point too far, perhaps.928 But there is little evidence of a sense of the place of the Christian church in war: war for a majority of preachers was an accepted fact which could not be avoided. However, wartime sermons, an enormous number of which never saw print, and which we can only glimpse from parish reminiscence, usually followed either local homiletic tradition, or the pre-war trend towards a less dogmatic, more ad hominem, occasional, approach, of the kind called for by Friedrich Niebergall. This meant, a preaching which to some extent swung, naturally enough, if the two years 1914 and 1918 are sampled, between confidence and hope of victory to an emphasis on trust and hope in adversity, as the horror and suffering of the war finally began to sink in. Many home-parish clergy returned already in the troubled year 1917 to the old pericopes, and put aside the situational sermon, the comment on the war. On the other hand, there was an undeniable wartime preference for the Old Testament text, for the tribulations of the chosen people of Israel and their enemies, for the Psalms and Proverbs. Sermons of 1918 were almost a genre of their own in their call for Mr Standfast.

927

Schian, ii. 227.

928

Namely, Pressel, Kriegspredigt, 175, 201, 340, 353–9. Still useful: Franz Köhler, Die Deutsch-Protestantische Kriegspredigt (Giessen, 1915); id., Der Weltkrieg im Lichte der deutschprotestanischen Kriegspredigt (Tübingen, 1915).

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These wartime sermons reveal a far more insidious feature: the way the Landeskirchen were really sucked into the maw of the military state set up by the Supreme Army Command in 1916. One directive followed another to be read out in pulpits; calling parishioners to economize on corn, flour, and bread, forbidding women to fraternize with prisoners-ofwar, announcing the collection of gold coins and jewellery as far as this was possible, enjoining adequate care of newborn babies, and even calling parishioners to help gather in the summer hay. Only a few voices muttered abuse of the pulpit. It was worse with church government. As the war intensified, consistories and parish clergy, especially in the winter of 1916/17, were called, in their useful official capacity, to organize lectures and talks on all manner of subjects which contributed to the national war effort: particularly the encouragement of better food management and the saving of paper and clothes: confirmands were even told that it was unnecessary to have a good suit for confirmation. Sunday observance was increasingly broken by labour directives calling for work on Sundays and festivals (this made it harder to attend evening prayers). These were obeyed on the whole, but not without a measure of protest and some failure to comply.929 The overall effect was to nationalize and secularize, in a way unthinkable before 1914. Even pastoral care in home parishes put much more emphasis on ‘social work’ with the congregation in parish meetings and evening socials (Gemeindeabende). This was popular in towns: in Berlin especially, as Männerabende, 1917/18, and the naturally more frequent Frauenabende.930 Care of the poor and the sick became increasingly the job of municipal agencies and voluntary religious and non-religious agencies, though in the country pastoral care still remained very much a family matter. The human cost of war and the rising number of families in need meant very much greater attention to social organizations such as the wartime Welfare Commissions, which drew on the personnel of municipal and voluntary agencies and parish councils in the larger towns. These organized lunches and suppers (Mittags-, Abendtischen), and war insurance schemes which paid out sums to those left behind; children of working women were farmed out to families or put in children's homes; town children were sent out to the countryside.

929

Schian, ii. 95–8.

930

Ibid. 208–16, 247 passim.

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601

The longer the war continued, the worse it became for the pastoral care in parishes where for clergy it became chiefly a matter of sitting and waiting with the women and children, or being the bearer of sad news (postmen went to the parish clergyman first, rather than to the family). It was a very delicate matter in towns where the clergy-man was not so close—should he come for the first time as the messenger of bad tidings? War weariness destroyed confidence and trust and hardened parishioners against the parish church. The war economy inflicted heavy material losses on the various churches as well.931 Already by the summer of 1915, there was a demand for used and unused objects (manufactured after 1850) made of copper, brass, and nickel. Organ pipes were requisitioned on 10 January 1917, and most parish churches lost their visible decorative pipes (Prospektpfeifen); the Saxon senior consistory was, however, able to prevent the loss of these pipes from all of the thirtyfive Silbermann organs. The following order for copper (finished after 1850) from public and private buildings (9 March 1917) was a much harder blow, especially in city parishes with new churches; the order also extended to lightning conductors: an iron replacement was sometimes postponed until after the difficult summer period. The loss which made the strongest impact on parishioners, a matter of parish pride and feeling, was the demand in March 1917 for church bells: this was in contrast—the result of a modern war technology—to all previous wars. It came as a rude shock after their frequent use in the euphoria of 1914—in churches such as St Paul's, Magdeburg, an electric mechanism had to be installed in 1914—and the restoration of the midday bell (Betglocke) after a pressure by parishioners. In a countryside still untouched by the modern press and telegraph, bells were even more of a loss: they told the hours of day, and they brought news, good and bad, to villages There were many farewell services accompanied by many tears and the ringing of all bells. Bells were a costly loss. Saxony delivered 1,950 out of 3,806 bells (51.3%); the little Landeskirche of Schwarzburg-Sonderhausen, 165 bells, to the tune of 277,806 marks. No bells rang in the winter of 1918. Protestant churches delivered handsomely in cash from church funds, donations, and bequests. These were converted into nine war bonds: we know that the Prussian Landeskirche contributed 2,186,000

931

Ibid. 289 passim.

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marks to the first, 4,380,500 to the second, and 6,302,700 to the third: little Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, a handsome 966,400 marks.932 Many church collections went to provision military pastoral care, soldiers' homes, and hard-pressed areas such as East Prussia and Alsace-Lorraine. Heating and lighting suffered accordingly in 1917 and 1918—the lights literally did go out in parish services. But, one thing the war made clear to the authorities and the public was that Protestant churches were not treasuries: their inventory of crucifixes, chalices, patens, font bowls, and baptismal cans, if they were made in precious metal, were usually of silver. The grip of the war raised the unresolved pre-war issue of stipends, owing to an inflationary spiral in living costs in the third year of the war. State cost-of-living bonuses (Teuerungszulagen) to officials and workers in public service, were only gradually extended to the clergy at home who began to note the differential between their stipends and those of army chaplains: professional chaplains 9,360 marks; honorary chaplains, provided with free quarters and food, 1,800–3,000 marks. Waldeck raised stipends in 1915 to 5,000 marks per annum after twenty-five years' service; Saxony-Anhalt put clergy on the scale as secondary schoolteachers in 1916, Saxony-Altenburg in 1918 raised the annual stipend to 6,000 marks after twenty-seven years' service. Parish clergy became restive with local churches which still struggled with commutation of the old tithe system. Bavaria converted the corn, flour, and bread that had been part of tithe into cash for the first time on 20 December 1915.933

III. Zusammenbruch (Collapse) In terms of a growing pre-war synodal, more representative Protestant church order, the two hard war years of 1917 and 1918 marked a massive step backwards. Church authorities and clergy did not come to terms with the way the military machine was radically changing the substance of politics and the social order at home. It was always a story of a reaction to German national fortune in war, rather than of taking stock of what the Protestant church, the Reformation, actually stood for; of doggedly holding on to both the customary order of the Landeskirche and a new overt loyalty to the

932

Schian; ii. 299–300.

933

Ibid. 75–80; Schian, i. 472–3.

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Protestant emperor as guardian of the faith in wartime, voiced notably on his birthday. In this way, Germany's Protestant churches in 1918 were pulled into the strong current which failed, by a hair's breadth, to sweep establishment in church and state away. Rising discontent in the trenches, shortages of household necessities at home, a sharply rising cost of living as a result of the changeover to the production of war material at all costs in 1916, and a food crisis verging on starvation in the ‘turnip’ winter 1916/17, widened the gap again between church establishment and parishioners; the SPD concepts of the ‘class church’, alienation, and a call to leave the church, became persuasive at home and on the battlefront. The quadcentenary of Luther's Reformation, 1917, thus became a sombre celebration of a nation and church in danger. Doors of consistories closed on any suggestion of reform. A circular issued by the Prussian EOK on 28 February 1917 calling for a national day of prayer in Lent on Sunday, 11 March set the tone by asking clergy and the faithful to stand fast, quoting Isaiah 30: 15, ‘In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.’934 On 15 May, Saxony's senior consistory in Dresden called for a special series of Reformation anniversary texts to be used alongside Sunday pericopes between the First Sunday after Trinity and 31 October; in this twilight it listed as suitable subjects, things such as Luther's struggle to demonstrate the mercy of God; his fitting out with God's guidance; his clarion call (Weckruf) in his three well-known 1520 Reformation Treatises (To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, The Babylonish Captivity of the Church, and Of the Liberty of a Christian Man); Luther at Worms before (Catholic) Kaiser and Reich; and texts from his Bible, Little and Large Catechisms, hymns, and liturgical writings.935 A Protestant church leadership demonstrably supportive of national solidarity, but, more significantly, one which had become very unsure of itself, used its press to oppose, as a threat to church establishment, important proposals of constitutional reform widening the Prussian franchise, made by Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg, who worried much about the political consequences of extremely low national morale. Only a handful of mostly liberal supporters of the ESK, notably Harnack, began to support his proposals as a matter of urgency. Worse for Protestant opinion was the

934

Huber and Huber, iii. no. 378. G. Brakelmann, Der deutsche Protestantismus im Epochenjahr 1917 (Witten. 1974).

935

Schian, ii. 132, 136.

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fact that a Catholic parliamentarian, Matthias Erzberger (1875–1921), linked in the Reichstag constitutional reform in a five-point programme (24 March) calling for a ministry responsible to parliament, a general, secret, and direct franchise in Prussia (local government reforms too), the repeal of emergency laws, and the transfer of more business from member states to national government with a demand for a peace without annexations. The emperor's Easter Message (7 April), drafted by Bethmann-Hollweg, calling for an end to Prussia's unequal franchise, coupled with the abolition of the anti-Jesuit law on 19 April, and the publication at Whitsun of the Codex juris canonici drafted by the successive Cardinal Secretaries of State Pietro Gasparri and Eugenio Pacelli—the latter's appointment as Nuncio in Munich in May 1917 was a turning-point for twentieth-century German Catholicism—divided the Protestant churches into far more intransigent church parties, predominantly conservative and liberal (bracketed with the Reichstag political parties supporting reform), than was the case before 1914.936 Hearts hardened. Christian peace became an ambiguous phrase meaning, very often, Protestant support in a church press of whatever hue, conservative, Pietist, also liberal, for a victorious German peace; anything less in peace initiatives was cast as ‘treason’. The wartime turning-points, the two months February and March 1917, which brought America into the war and saw the first revolutionary turn of events in Russia, were misread by this church press as opportunities for a victorious peace. ‘Russia could be more easily knocked out of the war’, was a favourite line. Opposition to constitutional reform, war aims, and peace, became interlinked. This wrecked any possibility of Christian dialogue on how to end the war. Peace initiatives became associated with treason; even neutral Lutheran Scandinavia was treated with suspicion. A committee representing Dutch and Scandinavian Social Democratic Parties had called for an international socialist conference representing both neutral and belligerent powers in Stockholm in May 1917. Though governments prevented attendance, a preparatory conference (4 June) was attended by members of Germany's SPD, majority Socialists, and Independents (the party had split into three sections after the 24 March constitutional proposals). They waived claims to annexations by belligerent powers

936

Scholder, ch. 4.

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and called for reparation (majority Socialist terms were moderate: the restoration of Belgium, independence of Polishspeaking Russia, Finland, and Germany in borders including the Baltic provinces, North ‘Schleswig’, and AlsaceLorraine).937 Stockholm became a controversial ‘Paxopolis’. Söderblom, who saw it as his duty to call together a religious equivalent in Uppsala in view of his previous initiatives, and as one of a few churchmen who understood times in flux which might lead to the independence of the Finns, Estonians, and Latvians, had noted already on 17 May in his diary, the broad lines of proposals which lay at the heart of his 1925 Stockholm Conference ‘Life and Work’: namely a lasting peace, the duty of all Christians to work for reconciliation, the expansion of ecumenical dialogue, and a new international legal framework which could prevent future war. But as was the case in 1914, a national wartime mentality blocked dialogue; the first Uppsala conference on 14 December was a mainly Scandinavian one (sixteen Swedes, ten Danes, and six Norwegians).938 In Protestant Germany, Pope Benedict XV's peace declaration of 1 August was given a hostile reception as was the emperor's endorsement of Prussian parliamentary reform (11 July).939 Typical also, was widespread support for Bethmann-Hollweg's successor (he resigned on 14 July), Georg Michaelis (1857–1936). Michaelis, a Pietist who believed in ascertaining God's will by casting lots, was really the mouthpiece of the Army Command during his 108-day tenure of office. He argued that the Reichstag peace resolution of 19 July, itself a mixture of a little conciliation with much bellicose intent, was one ‘indeed [which allows one], to make the peace one wishes’.940 The summer of 1917 was a point of no return for what Germany's Protestant press called a Verzichtfriede. Gottfried Traub, by now a fervent Pan-German supporter, put the Uppsala (for which he read socialist Stockholm) and the papal peace initiatives into the resonant jargon of a Protestant official mentality which had still not come to terms with the pre-war end of the Kulturkampf, or bothered much with 1917 as a year for serious reflection on what Luther really stood for: ‘We shall go neither to Rome nor Stockholm, but rather to

937

Huber, Verfassungsgeschichte, v. 287.

938

Sundkler, 158, 198–9. Davidson thought international church conferences still premature in November 1918: to Söderblom, 15 Nov. 1918, G. K. A. Bell, Randall Davidson, Archbishop of Canterbury (Oxford, 1935), ii. 941.

939

Huber and Huber, iii. no. 210.

940

Mehnert, 40; F. Fischer, Griff nach der Weltmacht, 523.

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Friedrichsruh and to the Wartburg. Here we will restore our sense of inner peace and security, and we will wait with our chancellor Michaelis until German arms decide total victory on land and at sea.’941 Many senior and parish clergy began now to join, as a political organization ‘above parties’, Grand-Admiral Tirpitz's Pan-German mouthpiece, the Deutsche Vaterlandspartei, which was founded in early September and went public at Berlin on 24 September.942 The flood of books, tracts for the times, and newspaper articles which accompanied 31 October 1917—some wits remarked that there seemed to be no paper shortage on this Protestant occasion—thus reflected very much more of a desire to return to the awakened Protestant German ‘Spirit of 1914’, to a Luther seen in this light, than to heed the small voice of academic Karl Holl who rediscovered Luther's understanding of the incapability of the human will consistently to choose good, in his De servo arbitrio (1525).943 The year 1918 opened with an official Protestant German, ‘I told you so’. The punitive treaty of Brest-Litovsk (nullified at the armistice), signed on 3 March with Lenin's Bolshevik government, was not so much ‘forgotten’ by its ill-informed church press, as taken as a demonstration of what happened if one stood fast against peace initiatives of the kind proposed in 1917.944 But this press failed to understand the massive extension of the military front (the Ukraine, southern-eastern Europe, and the Baltic provinces) which put military chaplaincy, its authority and pastoral care, in further jeopardy amongst troops whose morale was so low that anything which smacked of pastoral attention was treated with hostility. The church press also bypassed the struggle for national independence amongst Estonians and Latvians, mindful too of the continuing Finnish fight for independence (secured), against Bolshevik and German in what became after February 1917 the continuous ebb and flow of a horrible war in most parishes. Only in Riga, occupied by German troops on 3 September 1917, was it possible to restore the semblance of German Lutheran church order which had been almost destroyed by Russification, and Latvian parish resistance initiated by the

941

Traub in Christliche Freiheit, 34 (1917), cited Mehnert, 42–3; ch. 3 above.

942

Mid–1918: over 2,500 local groups; c. 1.25 million members, H. W. Gatzke, Germany's Drive to the West (Baltimore, 1950), 210.

943

G. Maron, ‘Luther 1917: Beobachtungen zur Literatur des 400 Reformations-jübiläums’, ZKG 93 (1982), 177–221.

944

Mehnert, 63–70.

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violent Latvian year of unrest, 1905. Even Riga's Russian Orthodox cathedral (like those at Warsaw and Kovno) was taken over for Lutheran military services; pews with seating for a 1,000, provision for a further 500 standing, a provisional altar in a choir decorated with the text of Matthew 28: 20, a new silver cross and candlesticks, an embroidered altar cloth and antependium for the pulpit, replaced previous Orthodox inventory in time for reconsecration on 1 April.945 The available evidence shows, however, that Protestant church authorities and clergy at home remained blissfully unaware of the harsh reality the duration of the war had produced. There was an impending ‘collapse’ of morale which expressed itself in alienation to the Christian church at both western and eastern fronts; the mood of the troops was otherwise: public worship was at most a duty (Dienst) to be performed; army chaplains became increasingly ranked as meddlesome officers; celebrating the emperor's birthday became a rite many chaplains wished to steer clear of.946 The summer months, July particularly, saw a complete breakdown in relations between chaplains and men; total indifference to Christian community; rebelliousness to authority; a hostile anti-church tide started to come in very quickly. Only a few chaplains were able to provide the semblance of church order as they left the battlefield with departing troops. It was the unforseen prelude to a ‘collapse’ amongst soldiers and sailors which Troeltsch described accurately in his letters, written under the pseudonym ‘Spectator’, in the periodical Kunstwart in November 1918.947 At home, virtually no church authority realized the magnitude of this ennui amongst the troops, that of impending defeat, and what this would bring home to local churches. The brief provisional government (3 October) of Prince Max of Baden (1867–1929) was seen in Protestant eyes as one with dubious credentials, owing to Baden's questionable pre-war liberal church politics; the prince's very moderate constitutional reform programme was simply bracketed with the Reichstag majority proposals of July 1917 as being loaded with the treasonable intention of enforcing what Luther had called Herr Omnes (the religious context of Luther's remark was swept aside); what, with 1789 in mind, Berlin's Evangelische Kirchenzeitung called Massenherrschaft, republicanism. It is not so very

945

Schian, i. 165.

946

Ibid. 221.

947

Drescher, Troeltsch, 272 passim.

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surprising that the unrest and violence which appeared in home parish streets in November in both the Reformed west and south west, and in the Lutheran centre and east, and reported by the Protestant church press, seemed to many unsuspecting clergy and parishioners to be a vindication of an official church line about republicanism, and not the result of military mismanagement. Hearts hardened once again. Things came to a head in Protestant Germany with the emperor's reluctant abdication on 9 November (official first on 28 November); addresses of loyalty and support flowed in one after the other; messages too which condemned this as the result of mob rule and revolution. A guardian, held in a reverence bordering on the sacrosanct, had been removed. It was a frame of mind that fitted the telling, in Berlin parish circles, of the embarrassing experience of the senior of the Emperor William Memorial Church, Paul Conrad (1865–1927). He had published a declaration of loyalty on the eve of the abdication. During a confirmation rehearsal, one of his confirmands, during a rare moment of inattention and out of a sense of fun, sat himself down in one of the two plush seats in the imperial family's box. This, like its counterpart in the cathedral, was officially banned from use as a mark of respect, a ban which was to remain in force until the destruction of both churches in the Second World War. Conrad's wrath descended, and the miscreant was duly punished by having to wait a further year. As had happened with the army chaplains on the battlefront in the summer, home church authorities in November and December were driven by a rapid, uncontrollable sequence of events to surrender their authority, in spite of a rhetorical church press which warned parishioners about the dangers of de-Christianization that came with republicanism. The Protestant church divided into one serving republican masters and one equipped with separate church organs. In Berlin on 5 December, the authority of the EOK was replaced by a republican church representative, Ludwig Wessel (1879–1922), the father of a notorious son; Saxony followed a similar path, although its new government followed the Minister in evangelicis recognized in the Saxon 1831 constitution. States which set up their own church governments were Württemberg (9 November), Baden (20 November), Hessen (7 December), and Oldenburg (10 December): Saxony-Weimar-Eisenach, Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Lippe, and Waldeck followed in 1919. In Prussia, the appointment

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on 12 November of an Independent Socialist, the Berliner Adolf Hoffmann (1858–1930)—an engraver who led the local pre-war ‘leave-the-church’ movement, and was nicknamed ‘Ten Commandments Hoffmann’ for a tract exposing the Ten Commandments as a tool of the propertied class (1891; often reprinted)—with the more moderate majority Socialist, Konrad Haenisch (1876–1925), to the Ministry for Church Affairs, was seen by both Protestant and Catholic churchmen as a republican declaration of war, though Hoffmann remained in office for only six weeks. Legislation abolished denominational schooling and clergy supervision on 27 November (in Bavaria on 16 December), obligatory religion in school on 29 November, and enabled citizens (13 December) to leave the established Christian churches and the Judaic synagogue.948 Such action strengthened a resolve amongst many frightened Protestant pastors and parishioners to join the new Deutschnationale Volkspartei, founded on 15 November, in the forlorn hope that this nationalist party born in national defeat would be their refuge and their champion, in the same way as the Catholic Centre Party protected Catholics against a new secular world order. This is a very sad note on which to finish a book on Reformation churches. Needless to say, worse was to follow in Germany as a result of a Protestant and Catholic interpretation of the year 1933 (with 1914 in mind), as one heralding religious ‘renewal’. All was not quite lost. The modern historical approach to Luther and the Reformation, their place within the history of the Christian church, was pioneered in the period 1900–20 in Germany and Scandinavia.949 The church historians, the Franconian, Albert Hauck, successor (1888) in Leipzig to Gotthard Lechler who opened Protestant German eyes after 1840 to the theological enlightenment in the Anglican church and to the British lay church tradition, and his pupil, the Saxon Heinrich Boehmer (1869–1927), a gifted medievalist at Marburg (1912–15) and Leipzig thereafter—one well-known to English colleagues—were major figures; particularly Hauck, in the context of this book, as editor of the influential third edition of RE (1896–1913), and as a father to the modern history of the Scandinavian Reformation. He took the initiative in founding the Leipzig history of religion chair; he was a good friend to Söderblom, its first incumbent, who

948

Huber, Verfassungsgeschichte, v. 871–91.

949

See Bibliography.

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invited him to deliver the prestigious Uppsala Olaus Petri lecture in 1916; and he also inspired the scholarship of Hjalmar Holmquist (1873–1945), professor of church history at Lund from 1909, who published the classic modern accounts of the Swedish Reformation.950 Equally influential in Germany and Scandinavia, but first after 1918, was a scholar who did take stock in wartime of what Luther taught: the Swabian Karl Holl (1866–1926), Harnack's aide in the pre-war Berlin Church Fathers' Commission, and Harnack's colleague as the second professor of church history at Berlin from 1906. Holl, notably in his 1917 commemorative lecture, ‘What Did Luther Understand by Religion?’, and later in a biography (1921), rediscovered the early Luther, the elemental aspect of justification, divine wrath, human awareness of sin, the primacy of the human will (in Thomasius's sense), the wager of faith, a sense of obligation (Das Sollen), expressed in following the Ten Commandments contained in Luther's Little and Large Catechisms.951 It was an attempt to free Luther from a pre-war interpretation by Harnack, Troeltsch, and Weber, which, to play on a witticism made about Pusey, placed Luther with one foot firmly in the twelfth century AD, and the other, less firmly, in Friedrichsruh. Such refreshment was accompanied by the scholarship of Rudolf Otto (1869–1937), professor of systematic theology at Marburg (1917–29), a brave protagonist, as a Prussian national liberal, of constitutional reform in 1917, who in the same year published Das Heilige, in English the Idea of the Holy (1923), which rediscovered the part played by the numinous and the irrational in the Christian and other religions; and by the comprehensive analysis of prayer in Das Gebet (1918) published by a son of Catholic Munich who converted to Lutheranism at Uppsala in 1919 under Söderblom's guidance, Friedrich Heiler (1892–1967), professor of comparative religions at Marburg after 1922. Much of this scholarly illumination, notably the history of Germany's Landeskirchen, found its way into the second edition of RGG. One might end with Protestant church music, the cantor's skilful art, in view of its renaissance in Germany and Scandinavia after 1918.

950

Hauck, Deutschland und England in ihren kirchlichen Beziehungen, printed 1917.

951

Commentary and text: Bornkamm, Luther im Spiegel der deutschen Geistesgeschichte, 77–80, 288–96. Holl's Luther interpretation inspired Eduard Geismar (1871–1939), professor of systematic theology at Copenhagen after 1920, who wrote the classic two-volume biography of Kierkegaard (1927–8).

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During a visit to Sweden by Berlin's cathedral choir under its innovative director (1900–32), Hugo Rüdel (1868–1934), in the difficult autumn of 1918, one of the concerts took place in Uppsala cathedral on the evening of the feast of St Michael. Söderblom, a good musician, was particularly touched by the organ-playing, and he asked to see the organist at the end of the concert. He was astonished to see before him, as he stood explaining to the choristers the shrine of St Erik situated at the east end, not a wise old German professor, but the young Wilhelm Kempff (1895–1991), a gifted, musical son of a Brandenburg family of organists and cantors (his father was cantor at Jüterbog), and subsequently one of this century's finest interpreters of the German keyboard tradition since Bach. For both it was an occasion, beginning with humorous repartee as was Söderblom's wont, to reflect on church music; but on the way to the archbishop's palace afterwards—the distance measured by a little Bach prelude, as Kempff put it—on a peaceful evening punctuated at intervals by the clear chime of the castle's little silver Queen Christina bell, Söderblom suddenly became serious, as if a cloud had obscured the sun, and said in his deep voice, staring Kempff full in the face, ‘There are also, then, in Germany, individuals who understand that God reveals Himself to all ages, and that He reveals Himself today as well.’952 If there is a Lutheran German legacy which shines through the great adversity described at the beginning of this book and in this Epilogue, a living bequest which cannot be described by a historian, it is its church music which reveals the Christian devotional heart. Open this music, sing it, play it, at the every least, listen; it is something which anyone can do, even today.

952

W. Kempff, Unter dem Zimbelstern: Das Werden eines Musikers (Stuttgart, 1951), 256. This toy organ-stop (it started a star, attached to the top of the organ case, revolving to the accompaniment of a set of bells) was the badge of the organists' guild. Kempff returned to play for Söderblom and his family in the inflationary winter of 1921; Söderblom asked for Beethoven's last sonata to be played and likened it, with St Michael, 1918, in mind, to the Archangel Michael's struggle and victory: ibid. 272.

Bibliography The bibliographic view is a grand one: in Protestant Germany, Roman imperial in colour before 1806, Herder's remark in his 1769 travel journal, ‘In the fields of law and history, we [the Germans] as collectors stand alone’ (‘In der Juristerei und Historie—da sind wir als Sammler, einzig’) holds for the entire period covered by this book. It was a practice a distant relative of mine, Franz Dominicus Haeberlin (1720–87), knew all too well: on him, see ADB and Genealogie der Familie Haeberlin, ed. H. Haeberlin (Rosengarten, near Hamburg, 1987). I have, perforce, been ruthless with my delete key; there is a brief commentary in each section listing books and articles which guide to further reading. The reader is lucky to have excellent Protestant encyclopaedias to dip into: in Germany, EKL (a new edition is forthcoming, 1986–), RE, RGG, and TRE; in Scandinavia, KLN. These, and important or rare journals, may be found in the list of Abbreviations at the beginning of the book. General W. Baumgart, Bücherverzeichnis zur deutschen Geschichte, 7th edn. (Munich, 1988), and T. Christensen et al. (eds.), Kirkehistorisk Bibliografi (Copenhagen, 1979), are handy, but by no means comprehensive guides to Protestant Germany and Scandinavia; otherwise (Germany) Gesamtverzeichnis des deutschsprachigen Schrifttums (GV) (1700–1910, and 1911–65); (Denmark) Bibliotheca Danica (BD); (Sweden) Svensk Historisk Bibliografi (SHB), the National Union Catalogue of the Library of Congress (NUC), and British Library Catalogues (BLC). The ‘Baltic provinces’, a late nineteenth-century term for Courland, Livonia, and Estonia before 1918: E. Winkelmann, Biblioteca Livoniae historica, 2nd edn. (Berlin, 1878); E. Blumfeldt and N. Loone (eds.), Bibliotheca Estoniae Historica 1877–1917 (Tartu, 1933–39). Church history. In Germany, one has to go to the provinces and read the older books and periodicals—a selection of which appear in this book (some frequently used are listed in Ch. 4); TRE, s.v. ‘Landeskirche’, ‘Konsistorium’. One day, soon perhaps, someone will write a sensitive

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modern appreciation of the Saxon Lutheran church after 1697; Franz Blanckmeister's Sächsische Kirchengeschichte (Dresden, 1906) is dated now! Helpful on some of the leading German clergy discussed in this book, relevant vols. in Martin Greschat (ed.), Gestalten der Kirchengeschichte, (Mainz, 1984–), 12 vols.; excellent coverage of Catholic Germany (1700–1918) is given by Jedin, Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte (Freiburg, 1970–9), v, vi/1–2; the Protestant constitutional setting in the empire, K. O. von Aretin, Heiliges Römisches Reich 1776–1806 (Wiesbaden, 1967), 2 vols.; Martin Heckel, Deutschland im konfessionellen Zeitalter, vol. v in Deutsche Geschichte: Kleine Vandenhoeck Reihe (Göttingen, 1983), is handy. Two excellent recent English guides giving a background, R. J. W. Evans, The Making of the Habsburg Monarchy 1550–1700 (Oxford, 1979), and my colleague, Thomas Munck's, Seventeenth-Century Europe (London, 1990). Sweden: Yngve Brilioth, Svensk kyrkokunskap (1933); Brilioth and H. Holmquist (eds.), Handbok i svensk kyrkohistoria, 2nd edn. (1952–9), 3 vols.; and the series edited by Hjalmar Holmquist and Hilding Pleijel, Svenska kyrkans historia (1933–46), which takes the story up to c.1830; the nineteenth- and twentieth-century volumes have not appeared. Denmark, Hal Koch et al. (eds.), Den danske kirkes historie (1950–66) gives coverage until 1918; M. Schwarz Lausten, Danmarks kirkehistorie (1983) is a popular up-to-date guide. Norway, C. F. Wisløff and A. Aarflot (ed.), Norsk kirkehistorie (Oslo, 1966–71), 3 vols. Finland, E. Bergroth, Den finska kyrkans historia i des grunddrag (Helsingfors, 1892); W. A. Schmidt, Finlands kyrka genom tiderna: en oversikt (Stockholm, 1940); G. Sentzke, Die Kirche Finlands (Helsinki, 1963). Livonia and Estonia, valuable collections of essays in: R. Wittram (ed.), Baltische Kirchengeschichte (Göttingen, 1956); ones dedicated to J. Kopp: Estonia Christiana (Stockholm, 1965). Liturgies, church music, and language: BLC 145, s.v. ‘Liturgies: Lutheran Churches’; K. F. Müller and W. Blankenburg (eds.), Leiturgia, Handbuch des evangelischen Gottesdienstes (Kassel, 1954–70), 5 vols.; Friedrich Blume (ed.), Protestant Church Music (London, 1975), includes contributors writing on the relevant German and Scandinavian time periods; Germany specifically, Hans Joachim Moser, Die evangelische Kirchenmusik in Deutschland (Berlin, 1954); the great German dictionary compiled by the brothers Grimm is basic on German language; Peter Skautrup, Det danske Sprogs Historie (1944–70), 4 vols., is in a class on its own, and has much to say on devotional literature and homiletics; Christian Molbech, Dansk Ordbog (1833), 2 vols., is excellent for older words and expressions. Popular religion. Basic is Hanns Bächtold-Stäubli (ed.), Handwörterbuch des deutschen Aberglaubens (Berlin, 1927–42; repr. 1987), 10 vols.; Scandinavian, Estonian, and Latvian ethnography flowered in the inter-war period: some of this work surfaces in the following chapters.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Law, civil and canon. The handiest survey is H. Mitteis and H. Lieberich (eds.), Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, 17th edn. (Munich, 1985), constantly updated.History, profane (see above). In the same series as Heckel, vol. vi, R. Vierhaus, Deutschland im Zeitalter des Absolutismus, 2nd edn. (Göttingen, 1984; English edn. Cambridge, 1988); vol. vii, K. O. von Aretin, Vom Deutschen Reich zum Deutschen Bund, 2nd edn. (Göttingen, 1993); government: Kurt G. A. Jeserich et al. (eds.), Deutsche Verwaltungsgeschichte (Stuttgart, 1983–8), 6 vols., is very useful—i. to 1803, ii. 1803–66, iii. 1871–1918; social history: Hans Ulrich Wehler's projected 4-vol. Deutsche Gesellschaftsgeschichte, 2nd edn. (Munich, 1989–); i. 1700–1815, and ii. 1845–8/9 were consulted when this book was written. Scandinavia: Franklin D. Scott, Scandinavia, (Cambridge, Mass. 1975); Sweden and Denmark, S. Oakley in The Story of Sweden (London, 1966), The Story of Denmark, (London, 1972). Sweden: F. D. Scott, Sweden: The Nation's History (Minneapolis, 1977); Sten Carlsson and Jerker Rosén, Svensk Historia. i. Tiden före 1718, and ii. Tiden efter 1718, 4th edn. (1980); social mobility, S. Carlsson, Bonde-Präst-Ämbetsman: Svensk ståndscirculation från 1680 till våra dagar (1962). Denmark: Erik Arup, Danmarks Historie (1926–55), 3 vols.; Edvard Holm, Danmark-Norges Historie under Enevælden fra 1660 til 1720 (1885–86), 2 vols., and id., Danmark-Norges indre Historie fra den Store Nordiske Krigs Slutning til Rigernes Adskillelse 1720–1814 (1891–1912), 7 vols., and E. Ladewig Petersen, Fra standssamfund til rangssamfund 1500–1700, Dansk social historie, 2nd edn. (1981), further vols. mentioned in part II introduction. An excellent collection on Danish social history is: Axel Steensberg (ed.), Dagligliv i Danmark i det syttende og attende århundrede (1969–71), 2 vols. (cited Steenberg, Dagligliv 1600–1800), and id., Dagligliv i Danmark i det nittende og tyvende århundrede (1963–4), 2 vols. (cited Steensberg, Dagligliv 1800–). Finland: in English, E. Jutikkala and K. Pirinen, A History of Finland (London, 1979). Courland, Livonia, and Estonia: R. Wittram, Baltische Geschichte: Die Ostseelande Livland, Estland, Kurland 1180–1918 (Munich 1954, repr. Darmstadt, 1973). Poland—so much a part of this book: Norman Davies, God's Playground: A History of Poland in 2 vols. (Oxford, 1981). The urban context: series Wilhelm Rausch (ed.), Beiträge zur Geschichte der Städte Mitteleuropas (Linz, 1963–). v. 1600–1800, vi. Barock period, vii. 1800–1900, viii. after 1900. In Scandinavia, the place of publication in Sweden is Stockholm, and in Denmark, Copenhagen, unless otherwise stated.

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Part I. Consolidation of Reformation Church Order and the Continuance of Reform German Protestantism's local topography, one which follows haphazard Reformation church order, is a nightmare for the general reader. RGG2 (1927–32) started the first systematic coverage of the many Landeskirchen; RGG3 (1957–65), and TRE continue. The following selection provides a way in. Relevant maps with commentaries in H. Jedin (ed.), Atlas zur Kirchengeschichte: Die christlichen Kirchen in Geschichte und Gegenwart (Freiburg, 1970). Older topographic overviews which are still useful: A. F. Büsching, A New System of Geography (London, 1762), whose vols. iv–vi survey the empire's territories; K. F. Stäudlin, Kirchliche Geographie und Statistik (Tübingen, 1804), 2 vols.; A. W. Hupel, Topographische Nachrichten von Lief- und Ehstland (Riga, 1774–82), 3 vols.. Kleinstaaterei is introduced by: G. W. Sante (ed.), Geschichte der deutschen Länder (known as Territorien-Ploetz) (Würzburg, 1964–71), 2 vols. Vol. i covers up to 1806, ii starts in 1806/15; F. Uhlhorn and W. Schlesinger (eds.), Die deutschen Territorien = Gebhardt: Handbuch der deutschen Geschichte, 5th edn. (Munich repr., 1984). Uhlhorn covers western, and Schlesinger eastern Germany; G. Oestreich, Verfassungsgeschichte vom Ende des Mittelalters bis zum Ende des alten Reiches = Gebhardt Handbuch vol. xi, gives us as complete a survey as is possible of the imperial estates based on the Matrikel, 1521/1755 and 1792; bishoprics, church provinces, and universities. Still useful for the early 18th c., Karl Müller, Kirchengeschichte (Tübingen, 1923), vol. ii/2. A fine modern topography is provided by G. Köbler, Historisches Lexikon der deutschen Länder: Die deutschen Territorien vom Mittelalter bis zur Gegenwart, 2nd rev. edn. (Munich, 1989). Indispensable for provincial church history, the multi-volume Handbuch der historischen Stätten Deutschlands (Stuttgart), which covers German provinces in constantly updated editions; each vol. has useful maps, a brief history of the province, and comprehensive bibliographies which also cover church history: the well-known Georg G. Dehio (ed.), Handbuch der deutschen Kunstdenkmäler series is complementary. Scandinavia is a little easier, given the emergence of national churches in the period covered by this book, though one should not underestimate regional topography: the Danish contrast in Denmark between poor mainland Jutland and the richer islands of Fyn and Sjælland, or Swedish, Norwegian, and Finnish contrasts between pastoral (with qualification) southern provinces and an arctic north: an excellent English guide, W. R. Mead, An Historical Geography of Scandinavia (London, 1981).

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Modern religious geographies, Sweden: B. Lundmann, Sveriges religiösa geografi (Lund, 1942), and B. Gustafsson, Svensk kyrkogeografi med samfundsbeskrivning, 2nd edn. (Lund, 1971); older, but in a way the best introduction to customary Swedish Lutheran topography is a book published on the occasion of the tercentenary of the German Reformation by the Pomeranian clergyman, F. W. von Schubert: Schwedens Kirchenverfassung und Unterrichtswesen nach früherem und gegenwärtigem Zustande aus den Quellen und nach eigener Ansicht an Ort und Stelle beschrieben (Greifswald, 1820–1) 2 vols., and his charming Reise durch Schweden, Lappland, Finnland, und Ingermanland, in den Jahren 1817, 1818 und 1820 (Leipzig, 1823), 3 vols.; his Kirchenverfassung was translated immediately into Swedish. Swedish dioceses are covered by a charming series, Stift i ord och bild: Stockholm (1946), Lund (1947) 2 vols., Linköping (1949), Skara (1949), Göteborg (1950), Växjö (1950), Västerås (1951), Visby (1951), Karlstad (1952), Härnösand (1953), and Luleå (1953); Uppsala archdiocese (1954). This supplements the detailed diocesan chronicles, Herdaminnen: Uppsala archdiocese (1842–5), 3 vols., and suppl. (1893); Linköping (1846–7), 3 vols., and 5 unfinished vols. (1928–31); Skara (1870–4) 2 vols., and 2 suppls. (1928–31); Strängnäs (1897–1901 and 1964–); Västerås (1843–6), 3 vols., 2 suppls. (1880–1), 3 vols. unfinished (1939–71); Växjö (1921–34), 8 vols.; Lund (1854–8), 5 vols., and (1848–80), 9 vols. unfinished; Göteborg (1872 and 1878–85), 1 vol. as new edn. (1948); Kalmar (1947–5), 5 vols.; Karlstad (1846–9), 3 vols. and (1965–75), 5 vols.; Härnösand (1923–6), 4 vols., and suppl. (1964); Luleå before 1904 covered by 4 vols. on Härnösand; Visby (1868), 1 vol with suppl. (1892); Stockholm city (1951), and senior consistory (1799–1814), 4 vols. Denmark: E. Pontoppidan, Dänischer Atlas, oder Beschreibung des Königreichs Dännemark, nach seiner politischen und physikalischen Beschaffenheit, trans. (Copenhagen, 1766–7) in 2 vols. by none other than the court master of the chapel, Bach's critic, Johann Adolph Scheibe, is a classic, as is H. Using, Kirkeforfatningen i de Kongelige danske Stater med dens vigtigste Fordele og Mangler, samt mulige Forbedringer (Sorø, 1786–9), 4 vols.. Diocese and parish are treated comprehensively in J. P. Trap's great topographic survey Amt by Amt: Danmark, 5th edn. (1953–70), 14 vols. (Trap, Danmark). The most accurate parish map of Denmark includes parochial growth after 1870 (urban) and the part of Schleswig awarded to Denmark in 1920: Sognekort over Danmark 1929, suppl. to Kommunal Årbog (1930). Danish diocesan topography since the Middle Ages and after 1922: J. Kjærulff Hellesen and O. Tuxen (eds.), Historisk Atlas Danmark, maps 11 and 41.

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Chapter 1. Hard Times i. Prayer as Remembrance and Comfort. See Ch. 2. E. von Nottbeck and W. Neumann (eds.), Geschichte der Kunstdenkmäler der Stadt Reval (Reval, 1904), 2 vols.; the novelist Werner Bergengruen in his essays Der Tod von Reval (1931–5), caught on the wing Tallinn's iconography portraying death's intimacy as something we should not fear. Important is Liefländische Historia, oder Kurtze Beschreibung der Denckwürdigsten Krieg- und Friedensgeschichte Esth-Lief- und Lettlandes etc. (Reval, 1695), i, and id., Liefländische Historia: Continuation 1690 bis 1707, ed. J. Lossius (Dorpat, 1875) by Christian Kelch, which he dedicated to Charles XI. Excellent on the famine years with German consistorial documents, O. Liiv (ed.), Suur näljaaeg eestis 1695–1697 (The Great Estonian Famine) (Tartu and Tallinn, 1938). Sweden's Caroline Church Law, valid still when this book ends: 1686 års Kyrkolag, ed. G. Thulin (1936); German edn., Kirchen-Gesetz und Ordnung . . . im Jahr 1686 (G.M. Nöllern: Riga, 1687), today in Lübeck city library. Livonian and Estonian amendments to it: G. J. von Buddenbrock (ed.), Sammlung der Gesetze, welche das heutige livländische Landrecht enthalten (Riga, 1821), ii/2, 1593 passim. ii. An Unsettled Extended Family of Reformation Church Orders. See Ch. 5. The best brief modern guide to church order families is: A. Niebergall, ‘Kirchenordnung’, in Handwörterbuch zur deutschen Rechtsgeschichte (Berlin, 1971–). Swedish censorship, and the emergence of religious toleration: G. Benzelstjernas censorsjournal 1737–1746, eds. L. Bygdén and E. Lewenhaupt (1884–5), 3 vols.; H. Levin, Religionstvång och religionsfrihet i Sverige 1686–1782: bidrag till den svenska religionslagstiftningens historia (1896). Ecumenism in 1700, and in 1900: R. Rouse and S. C. Neill (eds.), A History of the Ecumenical Movement 1517–1948, 2nd edn. (London, 1967); recently on 1700, G. Thomann, ‘John Ernst Grabe (1666–1711): Lutheran Syncretist and Anglican Patristic Scholar’, JEH 43 (1992), 414–27. iii. The Rite of Public Worship. A thorough overhaul of German and Scandinavian Protestant liturgical writing has been undertaken since 1920 (see Leiturgia above). Excellent German guides: TRE, s.v. ‘Agende’, and Leiturgia. Extreme care should be exercised with Paul Graff's pioneering guide, Geschichte der Auflösung der alten gottesdienstlichen Formen in der evangelischen Kirche Deutschlands (Göttingen, 1921–39), 2 vols.; Yngve Brilioth in Eucharistic Faith and Practice: Evangelical and Catholic (London, 1930), 144, was amazed by Graff's judgement, ‘the Lutheran rite is no more than the ruins of a liturgy . . . disintegration’ (Graff, i. 14 passim), without, says Brilioth, ‘taking into account any other facts than those of German church history . . . it may well be questioned whether even the German history, when fairly judged, justifies this estimate’. Graff provides a better

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guide in his second edn. of Georg Rietschel, Lehrbuch der Liturgik (Göttingen, 1951–2), 2 vols. in 1. Valuable comments: G. Otto (ed.), Praktisch-theologisches Handbuch, 2nd edn. (Hamburg, 1975), 196 passim; H. Ammer and J. Henkys et al. (eds.), Handbuch der praktischen Theologie, 2nd edn. (Berlin, 1979), ii. 27 passim; C. Brunners, ‘Der Gottesdienst in der Neuzeit’, JLH 22 (1978), 209 passim. The Swedish contribution to our understanding of the Lutheran rite is a considerable one; both as a home literature, and as one designed in the new ecumenical climate after c.1900 (see Epilogue). Good introductions: A. O. T. Hellerström, Liturgik, 3rd edn. (1954), 2 vols.; Swedish worship, E. Rodhe, Svenskt gudstänstliv: historisk belysning av den svenska kyrkohandboken (1923). Chapter 2. Consolidation of a Protestant Canon of Prayer i. Prayer as the Practice of Piety. German re-evaluation began with modern practical theology after c.1880: TRE, s.v, ‘Gebet’, ‘Gebetbücher’, and ‘Erbauungsliteratur’, and RDK, s.v. ‘Erbauungsbuch’; modern surveys: H. E. Jaeger (ed.), Zeugnis für die Einheit: Geistliche Texte aus den Kirchen der Reformation: Luthertum (Mainz, 1970), i; G. F. Merkel, ‘Deutsche Erbauungsliteratur: Grundsätzliches und Methodisches’, Jahrbuch für Internationale Germanistik, 3 (1971), 30–41; seminal, P. Althaus, Forschungen zur evangelischen Erbauungsliteratur (Gütersloh, 1927), which makes the case for taking seriously Catholic and Jesuit influence, and points out the dangers of grouping historically according to province: all right for church orders, catechisms, and liturgies, but not for prayer-books where an author's religious persuasion, literary, and Catholic devotional influence counted; still helpful: H. Beck, Die religiöse Volkslitteratur der evangelischen Kirche Deutschlands in einem Abriß ihrer Geschichte (Gotha, 1891), id., Die Erbauungslitteratur der evangelischen Kirche Deutschlands (Erlangen, 1883); K. Grosse, Die Alten Tröster: Ein Wegweiser in die Erbauungslitteratur der evang. luth. Kirche des 16. bis 18. Jahrhunderts (Hermannsburg, 1900); excellent on the visual side, even if centred on Württemberg: Martin Scharfe, Evangelische Andachtsbilder etc. (Stuttgart, 1968). Sweden: S. Estborn, Evangeliska svenska bönböcker under reformationstidevarvet med en inledande oversikt over medeltidens och over reformationstidens evangeliska tyska bönelitteratur (1929), see commentary STK (1930), 76–83; basic, D. Lindquist on the Caroline period, Studier i den svenska andaktslitteraturen under stormaktstidevarvet med särskild hänsyn till bön, tröste- och nattvardsböcker, (1939), and B. Olsson's good survey, Från Martin Luther till Sven Lidman: En historisk oversikt över andaktsböckerna i svenskt fromhetsliv (Lund, 1943): all are complemented by E. Liedgren's classic study of Swedish hymns and spiritual songs, Svensk Psalm och andlig visa (1926) including the ‘enlightened’ period up to the 1819 hymn-book, and by B.

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Olsson, Psalmboken som folkbok (Malmö, 1942); excellent on foreign influence, Estonia and Livonia also, B. Hellekant, Engelsk upbyggelses-litteratur i svensk oversättning indtil 1700-talets mitt (1944); O. H. Nordstrandh, Den äldre svenska pietismens litteratur (1951); H. Pleijel, ‘Johann Arndt och svenskt fromhetsliv’, STK (1938), 319–32—also German trans.: ‘Die Bedeutung Johann Arndts für das schwedische Frömmigkeitsleben’, in H. Bornkamm et al. (eds.), Der Pietismus in Gestalten und Wirkungen: Martin Schmidt zum 65. Geburtstag (Bielefeld, 1975), 383–94; brief, H. Pleijel, The Devotional Literature of the Swedish People in Earlier Times (Lund, 1956). ii. Printers and Editions. TRE, s.v. ‘Buch/Buchwesen’; S. Dahl, History of the Book (New York, 1958); L. Febvre and H. J. Martin, The Coming of the Book: The Impact of Printing 1450–1800 (London, 1976); J. Rodenberg, Die Druckkunst als Spiegel der Kultur in fünf Jahrhunderten (Berlin, 1942) with good bibliog. (520–2) on Estonia, Livonia, and Scandinavia; H. Schuck, ‘Om bokhandlare och bokhandelsverksamheten i Sverige före 1800-talets början’, in Förhandlingarna vid Nordiska bokhandelsmötet i Stockholm (1923), 171–84; H. Dumrese and F. C. Schilling, Lüneburg und die Offizin der Sterne (Lüneburg, 1986). In Estonia and Livonia, bookbinders provided the local population with bibles, hymn-books, and calendars: A. Feuereisen, ‘Der Buchdrucker M. G. Grenzius und die Begründung der “Dorptschen Zeitung”’, VGEG (1904); F. Puksoo, ‘P. Tielman Hube, Buchhandler in Tallinn und Narva um die Mitte des XVII.Jahrhunderts’, VGEG (1938), includes three appendices showing devotional books and calendars carried in bales by colporteurs; A. Buchholtz, Geschichte der Buchdruckerkunst in Riga 1588–1888 (Riga, 1890); F. Puksoo, Eesti raamatu arengulugu (The Estonian Book Trade) (Tallinn, 1933); id., ‘Die Buchdrucker Brendeken in Estland’, Gutenberg Jahrbuch (1934), 199–207; see also, L. Hendell-Auterinen, ‘Die Entwicklung des Druckereiwesens in Finnland’, Gutenberg Jahrbuch (1935), 265–70. Jesuit influence in Dorpat: V. Helk, Die Jesuiten in Dorpat 1583–1625: Ein Vorposten der Gegenreformation in Nordeuropa (Odense, 1977). Germany: essential for the entire 18th c.: R. Jentzsch, Der deutsch-lateinische Büchermarkt nach den Leipziger Ostermeßkatalogen von 1740, 1770 und 1800 in seiner Gliederung und Wandlung (Leipzig, 1912), and H. Schoffler, Protestantismus und Literatur: Neue Wege zur englischen Literatur des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts, 2nd edn. (Göttingen, 1958). iii. Reception of Anglican and Puritan Spirituality. Background is provided by H. C. White, English Devotional Literature (Prose) 1600–1640 (Madison, Wis. 1931), H. E. Jaeger, (ed.), Anglikanismus, in Zeugnis der Einheit (Mainz, 1972), iii, and Calvinismus (Mainz, 1970), ii; also useful, G. Waterhouse, The Literary Relations of England and Germany in the Seventeenth Century (Cambridge, 1914), and M. Blassneck, Frankreich als Vermittler

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englisch-deutscher Einflüsse im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 1934). Basic for German reception, Erich Hans Leube's (1896–1947) revision of the ‘Orthodox’ period, in Die Reformideen in der deutschen lutherischen Kirche zur Zeit der Orthodoxie (Leipzig, 1924), and in his collected writing, Orthodoxie und Pietismus: Gesammelte Studien von Hans Leube, ed. D. Blaufuß (Bielefeld, 1975); H. Lehmann's textbook, Das Zeitalter des Absolutismus: Gottesgnadentum und Kriegsnot (Stuttgart, 1980), is good for context. Scandinavia: E. Seaton, Literary Relations of England and Scandinavia in the Seventeenth Century (Oxford, 1935). Denmark: H. F. Rørdam, ‘Om kjendskabet til engelsk theologisk litteratur i aeldre tid’, KhS (1903–5), 363–71; A. Møller, ‘Fra psalmistens værksted: En studie over Thomas Kingos passionssalmer’, ibid. (1933–5), 305–423; id., ‘Er det nødvendigt at antage engelsk paavirkning paa Kingos Salmedigtning?’, ibid., 548–69; J. Oskar Andersen, ‘De kirkehistoriske Kingo-Problemer’, ibid., 570–93; id., ‘Om Kingos Psalmedigtning’, Dansk Kirkeliv (1934), 15–58; id., ‘Dansk syn på fromhed og “gudfrygtigheds øvelse” i ældre luthersktid: En kirkehistorisk indledning til Kingos “Siunge koor’ ”, in A. E. Sibbernsen (ed.), Thomas Kingo Aandelige Siunge—Koor (1931). Sweden: see Hellekant above; popularity of Robert Parsons, Jesper Swedbergs lefwernes beskrifning, ed. G. Wetterberg (Lund, 1941), and B. Olsson, ‘Författerskapet till Sonthoms Gudz Barns Gyllende Klenod (1635)’, Nordisk Tidsskrift for Bok- och Biblioteksväsen (1945), 1–6; J. Helander, Haquin Spegel: Hans lif och gärning intill år 1693 (Uppsala, 1899); E. Esking, John Bunyan i Sverige under 250 år (Klippan, 1980). Feller's sonnet: Es ist jetzt Stadt-bekannt der Nahm der Pietisten; Was ist ein Pietist? der Gottes Wort studirt, Und nach demselben auch ein heilges Leben führt. Das ist ja wohl gethan, ja wohl von iedem Christen. Denn dieses machts nicht aus, wenn man, nach Rhetoristen Und Disputanten Art, sich auf der Cantzel ziert, Und nach der Lehre nicht lebt heilig, wie gebührt, Die Pietät, die muß vor aus im Hertzen nisten. Der baut auch zehnmal mehr, das wohlgesetzte Wort, Ja alle Wissenschafft, sie nutzt auch hier und dort. Drum weil der Seelge war, bey mancher schönen Gabe Und nimmer-müden Fleiß, ein guter Pietist, So ist er nunmehr auch ein guter Qvietist, Die Seel ruht wohl in Gott, der Leib auch wohl im Grabe. Text in Blaufuß (ed.), Orthodoxie und Pietismus, 191: see R. Breymayer, ‘Die Erbauungsstunde als Forum pietistischer Rhetorik’, in H. Schanze

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(ed.), Rhetorik: Beiträge zu ihrer Geschichte in Deutschland vom 16–20. Jahrhundert (Frankfurt am Main, 1974), 87–104. Chapter 3. Parish Crisis in a Credulous World i. The Baltic Region. Good English and French accounts provide background to a churchscape dominated by Sweden's imperial mission, and by the Great Northern War: C. Nordmann, Grandeur et liberté de la Suède (Paris, 1971); M. Roberts, The Swedish Imperial Experience 1560–1718 (Cambridge, 1979); the first of David Kirby's two projected Baltic volumes, Northern Europe in the Early Modern Period: The Baltic World 1492–1772 (London, 1990). Sweden: the social history of Caroline uniformity, whose ethos held until 1860, is dominated by the writing of Hilding Pleijel (1893–1988), professor of church history at Lund from 1938, his pupils, and the ethnographic Kyrkohistoriska Arkivet (1942) he founded with the well-known ethnographer, C. W. von Sydow: I. Brohed, ‘In Memoriam Hilding Pleijel’, Kå (1989), 9–15. Pleijel used the phrase the ‘world of Luther's Haustafel’ in a collection of essays, Hustavlans värld (Lund, 1970), to describe this age—see also his essays Husandakt, Husaga, Husförhör och andre folksslivsstudier (1965): complementary, Olof Högberg, Den stora vreden (1906), 3 vols., and G. E. Axelson, Bidrag till kännedomen om Sveriges tillstånd på Karl XIIs tid (Visby, 1888). A classic account of Swedish 18th-c. parish life—also thereafter until mid-19th-c. reform—is K. H. Johansson, Svensk sockensjälvstyrelse 1686–1862: Studier med hänsyn till Linköpings stift (Lund, 1937). Denmark: E. Holm, Danmark-Norges indre Historie under Enevælden fra 1660 till 1720, O. Nielsen, Kjøbenhavn på Holbergs tid (1884), and the admirable Steensberg, Dagligliv (1600–1800); very informative, G. Bang's survey of c.800 extant parish registers (1645/6–99): Kirkebogsstudier: Bidrag til dansk befolkningsstatistik og Kulturhistorie i det 17. aarhundrede (1906). In German on Pleijel's topic: Julius Hoffmann, Die “Hausvaterliteratur” und die “Predigten über den christlichen Hausstand”: Lehre von Haus und Bildung für das häusliche Leben im 16., 17. und 18.Jahrhundert (Weinheim, 1959); in Swabian mode, Sabine Holtz, Theologie und Alltag: Lehre und Leben in den Predigten der Tübinger Theologen 1550–1750 (Tübingen, 1993), TRE, s.v. ‘Haus’; also G. Hoennicke, Studien zur altprotestantischen Ethik (Berlin, 1902). ii. Divine Intervention. Pioneering Swedish research was done by the Uppsala church historian Emanuel Linderholm (1872–1937), here, id., ‘Om kometernas och andra naturföreteelsers religiösa tolkning i äldre tider’, Bibelforskaren (1910), 227–71; id., ‘Ur fädernas tros- och tankevärld’,

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ibid. (1907), 409–46. Cf. Kelch's account, and ‘Pastor Joh. Heinr. Grotjans Aufzeichnungen’, in F. Bienemann, Die Katastrophe der Stadt Dorpat während des Nordischen Krieges (Reval, 1902), 1–20: Grotjan and a large number of Dorpat citizens were transported to Vologda in 1708 and he recorded this experience, and his ‘Prognostica divina’ (autumn 1713) in the parish register of St John, Dorpat; illuminating too is Oskar Loorits, ‘Det nordiska kriget i estnisk folktradition’, Sv. E (1935), 17–26. iii. Customary Observance. Germany: interface between Catholic and Lutheran: Reintraud Schimmelpfennig, Die Geschichte der Marienverehrung im deutschen Protestantismus (Paderborn, 1952); in this context, A. Wiesenhütter, Protestantischer Kirchenbau des deutschen Ostens in Geschichte und Gegenwart (Leipzig, 1936). Denmark, J. Exner, 400 danske landsbykirker, 2nd edn. (1975), and relevant volumes in Trap, Danmark. Estonian and Livonian parish archives—much was assessed and written up in the republican period 1920–40—yield a very rich material; there is only brief attention here: much needs now to be done. Background to Catholic and Lutheran coexistence, L. Arbusow jun., Die Einführung der Reformation in Liv-, Est- und Kurland (Leipzig, 1921; repr. 1964); the edition by a pioneer of Estonian language and culture, Friedrich Kreutzwald (1803–82), Der Ehsten abergläubische Gebräuche, Weisen und Gewohnheiten von Johann Wolfgang Boeckler (St Petersburg, 1854), date last third of 17th c.; Kelch, who wrote in Plattdeutsch—Hochdeutsch was first used by Pietist immigrant clergy after c. 1721—has much to say; valuable too, Johann-Arnholds von Brand's travelogue (1673/4), Reyse, durch die Marck Brandenburg, Preussen, Kurland, Liefland, Plescovien etc.; . . . Lebens-art, Gottesdienst, allerhand Ceremonien, Kleydung, Regierung, Rechtspflegung, und dergleichen (Wesel, 1702); see too, H. Strobach, ‘“Ich bin ein livländicher Bauer”: Zur Überlieferungsgeshichte einer Bauernklage’, DJVK 6 (1960), 292–329; important, A. Westrén-Doll, ‘Abgötterey zu Ausgang der schwedischen und Beginn der russischen Zeit’, SBGEG (1925), 7–25; Liiv's introduction to his documentation in the Estonian famine; R. Hausmann, ‘Über alte livländische Kirchenbücher und deren Bedeutung für die Geschichte des Landes’, SBGEG (1881), 8–12; A. Hasselblatt, ‘Das älteste Kirchenbuch der Pfarre zu Camby 1719–1759’, SBGEG (1882), 192-206; id., ‘Aus den Kirchenbüchern von Camby’, SBGEG (1908), 32–42; Kelch's own register including his biography in Kelch, Continuation, ii. 579–606; C. Maurach, ‘Aus alten Kirchenbüchern’, Dorpater Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche (1860), 97–109; A. H. Willigerode, ‘Aus dem Pfarrarchive zu St Marien in Dorpat, ibid. (1866), 601–32; large literature on burial practice in R. Hausmann, ‘Außerkirchliche Begräbnisplätze im Estlande in christlicher Zeit’, SBGEG (1925), 134–55; an excellent survey, despite a misleading title, is H.

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Schaudinn, Deutsche Bildungsarbeit am lettischen Volkstum des 18. Jahrhunderts (Munich, 1937). iv. Propagation of the Gospel. Swedish examples, bishops Spegel and Svedberg: J. Helander, Haquin Spegel; H. W. Tottie, Haquin Spegel, såsom katekt och homilet (Uppsala, 1890); Gottfried Westling, ‘Om kyrkans verksamhet och fruktan deraf i Linköpings stift under biskop Spegels tid (1693–1711)’, TT (1885), 245–66, 325–40; id., ‘Om det okonomiska tillståndet blandt presterskapet inom Linköpings stift under biskop Spegels styrelse (1693–1711)’, ibid. (1887), 117–24; id., ‘Några ord om prestbildningen och det presterliga befördringsväsendet i Linköpings stift under biskop Spegels ämbetsstid’, ibid. (1884), 277–300; H. W. Tottie, Jesper Svedbergs lif och verksamhet: Bidrag till svenska kyrkans historia (Uppsala, 1885–6), 2 vols.; the Swedish Catechism tradition, see Pleijel above, and id., Katekesen som svensk folkbok: en historisk översikt (Malmö, 1942), and Einar Lilja, Den svenska katekestraditionen mellan Svebilius och Lindblom: en bibliografisk och kyrkohistorisk studie (Lund, 1947). Estonia and Livonia: Buddenbrock's legal collection provides the background to Estonian and Livonian clergy amendments to Sweden's Church Law; A. Isberg, Livlands kyrkostyrelse 1622–1695: Reformsträvanden, åsiktsbrytningar och kompetensvister i teori och praxis (Uppsala, 1968); G. Westling, Förarbeterna till den estniska översättningen av Nya Testamentet (Sundsvall, 1892); Forselius and Virginius, s.v. Recke-Napiersky, and ‘Curriculum vitae Adrani Verginii Pastoris in Odenpee descriptum Dörpatii ao.1706. 9. Apr.’, Mittheilungen aus dem Gebiete der Geschichte Liv-, Ehst- und Kurland's, 9 (Riga, 1860), 118–25, G. Wieselgren, ‘B. G. Forselius und die Gründung der estnischen Volksschule, Urkunden und Kommentar’, Vetenskaps-Societeten, i. Lund Årsbok (1942), 65–128; H. Salu, ‘Adrian Virginius som grundläggare av vara dagare estniska psalmtraditioner’, Sv.E (1944–8), 163–85; id., ‘1685 års sydestniska psalmbok’, Sv.E (1949), 168–82; id., ‘Förbjuden estnisk litteratur under svensktiden’, Sv.E (1951), 169–203; H. Pürkop, Nagra sällsynta estniska böcker i Lunds universitetsbibliotek', Sv.E. (1944–8), 149–62; H. Pönicke, ‘Johann Ernst Glück: Ein Widerstandskämpfer im Zeitalter der Frühaufkärung im Nordosten Europas’, KO (1970), 104–32. Chapter 4. The Political Parish and 1648 i. A Blind Official Eye to Parish Convention. See Ch. 8. Good brief introductions, H. Nottarp, Zur Communicatio in sacris cum haereticis: Deutsche Rechtszustände im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert, Schriften der Königsberger Gelehrten Gesellschaft, 9 (Halle, 1933), W. Grossmann, Religious Toleration in Germany, 1684–1750, Studies on Voltaire in the Eighteenth Century, 201 (Oxford, 1982), 115–41, and F. W. Woker, Agostino Steffani, Bishof von Spiga, apostolischer

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Vikar von Norddeutschland 1709–1728 (Cologne, 1886)—MGG, s.v. ‘Steffani’. Complex German and Swedish customary church order. Distance to church in Sweden meant providing accommodation on the main festivals of the Christian year which coincided with markets; in Norrland, something which Edward Clarke noticed on his Swedish visit (1799), ‘church towns’ were customary, R. Bergling, Kyrkstaden i övre Norrland: Kyrkliga, merkantila, och judiciella funktioner under 1600- och 1700-talen (1964). Swedish canon law in Livonia and western Pomerania: H. Stählin, ‘Die Verfassung der Livländischen Landeskirche 1622–1832: Eine kirchenrechtliche Studie’, ZSSRGKA (1932), 289–369; R. Berger, Rechtsgeschichte der schwedischen Herrschaft in Vorpommern (Würzburg, 1936). See S. Carlsson, ‘Schweden und Pommern in der neueren Geschichte’, ZfO (1966), 262–78; K. H. Ruffmann, ‘Engländer und Schotten in den Seestädten Ost- und Westpreußens', ZfO (1958), 17–39. Some German local church histories cited frequently (also in Part II) are: G. Pariset, L'État et les Églises en Prusse sous Fréderic-Guillaume 1er 1713–1740 (Paris, 1897); W. Hubatsch, Geschichte der evangelischen Kirche Ostpreussens (Göttingen, 1968), i; H. Neumeyer, Kirchengeschichte von Danzig und Westpreußen in evangelischer Sicht (Leer, 1971–7), 2 vols.; H. Heyden, Kirchengeschichte Pommerns, 2nd edn. (Cologne, 1957); K. Schmaltz, Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs (Schwerin, 1935–52), 3 vols., and W. Wendland, 700 Jahre Kirchengeschichte Berlins (Berlin, 1930). ii. The Home Parish and Simultaneous Arrangements. Background, above, and Mack Walker's fine biography of a jurist who knew most about this subject, Johann Jakob Moser and the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation (Chapel Hill, NC, 1981); N. Conrads, Die Durchführung der Altranstädter Konvention in Schlesien 1707–1709 (Cologne, 1971); J. Müller, Die Vorgeschichte der pfälzischen Union, (Witten, 1967); K. Borgmann. Der deutsche Religionsstreit der Jahre 1719/20 (Berlin, 1937). There are excellent Alsatian studies: F. L. Ford, Strasbourg in Transition 1648–1789 (New York, 1958); J. Adam, Evangelische Kirchengeschichte der Stadt Strassburg bis zur französischen Revolution (Strasburg, 1922); id., Evangelische Kirchengeschichte der elsässischen Territorien bis zur französischen Revolution (Strasburg, 1928); M. Lienhard, Foi et vie des Protestants d'Alsace (Strasburg, 1981–5), 2 vols.; TRE, s.v. ‘Elsaß’. Chapter 5. Government of the Church-State i. From Custodian to Sovereign. This is a vast subject. Basic is the still unfinished collection of church orders edited by E. Sehling, Die evangelischen Kirchenordnungen des XVI. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig 1902–); ZSSRGKA (1929), pp. vii–xii, s.v. ‘Sehling (1860–1928)’; wonderfully

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brief are his articles in RE, and id., Geschichte der protestantischen Kirchenverfassung, published separately from Aloys Meister (ed.), Grundriss der Geschichtswissenschaft, ser. 2/8 2nd edn. (Berlin, 1914); Johannes Merkel, ‘Das protestantische Kirchenrecht des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts’, Zeitschrift für die gesammte lutherische Theologie, 21 (1860), 1–51; N. Hope, ‘The View from the Province: A Dilemma for Protestants in Germany, 1648–1918’, JEH 41 (1990), 606–21, gives an overview. Religious articles and Luther: B. J. Kidd, Documents Illustrative of the Continental Reformation (Oxford, 1911); L. Grane (ed.), Die Confessio Augustana: Einführung in die Hauptgedanken der lutherischen Reformation, 2nd edn. (Göttingen, 1980), and Die Bekenntnisschriften der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche, ed. Der Deutsche Evangelische Kirchenauschuß (Berlin, 1930), 2 vols.. The most useful legal histories: Roderich Stintzing and Ernst Landsberg, Geschichte des Deutschen Rechtswissenschaft (Munich, 1880–1910), vols. i, ii, iii/1, iii/2, K. Rieker, Die rechtliche Stellung der evangelischen Kirche Deutschlands in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwickelung bis zur Gegenwart (Leipzig, 1893), and J. F. von Schulte, Die Geschichte der Quellen und Literatur des canonischen Rechts (repr. Graz, 1956), 3 vols. in 2. ii. Absolutism and the Governance of a Reformation Church. Denmark: K. Fabricius, Kongeloven, dens tilblivelse og plads i samtidens natur- og arveretlige udvikling: En historisk undersøgelse (1920), and, used here, V. A. Secher (ed.), Kong Christian den femtes Danske Lov (Copenhagen, 1929); commentary in E. Holm's Danmark-Norges Historie under Enevælden. Sweden: Charles XI's Church Law; H. Pleijel, Karolinsk kyrkofromhet, pietism och herrnhutism 1680–1772, Svenska kyrkans historia, v (Uppsala, 1935); C. E. Normann, Prästerskap och det karolinska enväldet: Studier över det svenska prästerskapets statsuppfattning under stormaktstidens slutskede (1948); in English, M. Roberts, Swedish Imperial Experience, and id., The Age of Liberty: Sweden 1719–1772 (Cambridge, 1986). German links to kingship: Johann Christian Lünig, Theatrum ceremoniale historico-politicum (Leipzig, 1719–20), 2 vols.; H. Liermann, ‘Untersuchungen zum Sakralrecht des protestantischen Herrschers’, ZSSRGkA (1941), 311–83, is, despite its date, useful; important is Max Lehmann and H. Granier (eds.), Preußen und die Katholische Kirche seit 1640 (Leipzig, 1878–1902), 9 vols.; see N. Conrads, Altranstädter Konvention. Bishops: Ernst Benz, Bischofsamt und apostolische Sukzession im deutschen Protestantismus (Stuttgart, 1953); Sven Kjöllerström, Biskopstillsättningar i Sverige 1531–1951 (Lund, 1952), id., Sätt till att ordinera en vald biskop, 1561–1942 (Lund, 1974). iii. Jus publicum and Jus ecclesiasticum Protestantium. European influence, H. L. Benthem, Holländischer Kirchen- und Schulenstaat (Frankfurt am Main,

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1698), and id., Neu-eröffneter Engeländischer Kirch- und Schulen-Staat etc., (1694), 2nd edn. (Leipzig, 1732); H. Schneppen, Niederländische Universitäten und Deutsches Geistesleben von der Gründung der Universität Leiden bis ins späte 18. Jahrundert (Münster, 1960); G. Oestreich, Neostoicism and the Early Modern State (Cambridge, 1982) is good on Germany and Scandinavia. Sweden and Swedish Dorpat (until 1711): S. Göransson, Ortodoxi och synkretism i Sverige 1647–1660 (Uppsala, 1950), id., Den synkretiska striden i Sverige 1660–1664 (Uppsala, 1952), id., De svenska studieresorna och den religiösa kontrollen från reformationstiden til frihetstiden (Uppsala, 1951); G. von Rauch. Die Universität Dorpat und das Eindringen der frühen Aufklärung in Livland 1690–1710 (Essen, 1943). Pufendorf: L. Krieger, The Politics of Discretion: Pufendorf and the Acceptance of Natural Law (Chicago, 1965); his opponent Schwartz in Schleswig-Holstein, J. Alwast et al. (eds.), Orthodoxie und Pietismus, SHKG 4 (Neumünster, 1984); Pufendorf's disciple, Holberg: Ludvig Holbergs memoirer, ed. F. J. Billeskov Jansen, 2nd edn. (1963); Holberg, ‘Naturens og Folkerettens Kundskab’ in Ludvig Holberg Værker i tolv Bind, ed. F. J. Billeskov Jansen (1969), i. Leipzig, Hallesian, and Göttingen jurisprudence: Christoph Link, Herrschaftsordnung und bürgerliche Freiheit: Grenzen der Staatsgewalt in der älteren deutschen Staatslehre (Cologne, 1979); W. Schrader, Geschichte der Friedrichs-Universität zu Halle (Berlin, 1894), 2 vols.; R. Hodermann, Universitätsvorlesungen in deutscher Sprache um die Wende des 17. Jahrunderts (Friedrichroda, 1891); M. Fleischmann (ed.), Christian Thomasius: Leben und Lebenswerk (Halle, 1931); W. Bienert, Der Anbruch der christlichen Neuzeit dargestellt an Wissenschaft und Glauben des Christian Thomasius (Halle, 1934); Thomasius and Francke, Kramer, Francke; Brenneysen and East Frisia, M. Hughes, Law and Politics in Eighteenth-Century Germany: The Imperial Aulic Council in the Reign of Charles VI (Woodbridge, 1988). Modern Göttingen, Lower Saxon clergy: E. F. Rössler, Die Gründung der Universität Göttingen (Göttingen, 1855); J. Stroup, The Struggle for Identity in the Clerical Estate: Northwest German Protestant Opposition to Absolutist Policy in the Eighteenth Century (Leiden, 1984); Mosheim's canon law: Allgemeines Kirchenrecht der Protestanten, ed. Christian Ernst von Windheim (Helmstedt, 1760). Background (Lower Saxon bibliography is extensive): Johannes Beste, Geschichte der Braunschweigischen Landeskirche von der Reformation bis auf unsere Tage (Wolfenbüttel, 1889); Reinhard Oberschelp, Politische Geschichte Niedersachsens 1714–1803 (Hildesheim, 1983); id., Niedersachsen 1760–1820: Wirtschaft, Gesellschaft, Kultur im Land Hannover und Nachbargebieten (Hildesheim, 1982), 2 vols.

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Chapter 6. The Clergy i. A Training in Theology (covers first two sections). Best German introduction: F. Paulsen, The German Universities and University Study (London, 1906), and id., Das deutsche Bildungswesen, 3rd edn. (Leipzig, 1912); also good is C. E. McLelland, State, Society, and University in Germany 1700–1914 (Cambridge, 1980); superb, N. Hammerstein, ‘Zur Geschichte und Bedeutung der Universitäten im Heiligen Römischen Reich deutscher Nation’, HZ 241 (1985), 287–328; helpful is the new series, History of Universities, C. Schmitt et al. (eds.) (Avebury, 1981–): therein R. J. W. Evans, ‘German Universities after the Thirty Years War’, i. 169–90. Theology and university life: TRE, s.v. ‘Fakultäten, Theologische’ and ‘Lehrverpflichtung’; also TRE articles on individual universities. All the relevant German and Scandinavian university histories contain chapters and sections on theology, but few are as briefly instructive and entertaining as Walter Jens, Eine deutsche Universität: 500 Jahre Tübinger Gelehrtenrepublik (Munich, 1977); two supplementary accounts: Martin Leube, Geschichte des Tübinger Stifts; of which vols. i and ii, (Stuttgart, 1921–30) cover the 16th and 18th c.; see Hasselhorn, Altwürttembergische Pfarrstand. Thomasian Halle merits a Jens treatment. Essential reading still: F. A. G. Tholuck, Das akademische Leben des siebzehnten Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 1853/4), 2 vols.; id., Das kirchliche Leben des siebzehnten Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 1861/2), id., Geschichte des Rationalismus (Berlin, 1865), only vol. i published; Heinrich Schmid, Die Dogmatik der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche, dargestellt und aus den Quellen belegt (Erlangen, 1843), 7th edn. (1893): an English translation of the fifth edition (Philadelphia, 1876) to be read in conjunction with Leube's Die Reformideen and his collected essays, Orthodoxie und Pietismus, and C. H. Ratschow, Lutherische Dogmatik zwischen Reformation und Aufklärung (Gütersloh, 1964–71), 2 vols., who uses J. F. König's Theologia positiva acroamatica (Rostock, 1664), 2nd rev. edn. (1699), and other compendia to overhaul Schmid's controversial view of Orthodoxy. Hallesian and Tübingen pastoral theology: Arnold F. Stolzenburg, Die Theologie des Jo. Franc. Buddeus und des Chr. Math. Pfaff: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Aufklärung in Deutschland (Berlin, 1926; repr. Aalen, 1979). Scandinavia: L. Grane (ed.), Det teologiske Fakultet = Københavns Universitet 1479–1979 (1980), v; S. E. Stybe, Copenhagen University: 500 Years of Science and Scholarship (1979); S. Lindroth, A History of Uppsala University 1477–1977 (1976), and his fine cultural survey Svensk lärdomshistoria (1975–81), 4 vols. covering the Reformation to 1800; Lindroth updates Claes Annerstedt's magisterial Uppsala universitets historia, i and ii (apps. 1–2) which treat the period before 1721 (1877–1910); after 1721, iii (apps. 1–2), (1913–14). Clergy training in 1700: R. Askmark, Svensk prästutbildning fram till år 1700 (1943); fears about doctrinal contamination in the period of

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Charles XI's minority (1660–72): S. Göransson, Ortodoxi och synkretism; id. Den synkretiska striden i Sverige; id. De svenska studieresorna. Finland: Matti Klinge et al. (eds.), Kungliga Akademien i Åbo 1640–1808, Helsingfors Universitet 1640–1990 i, (Helsingfors, 1988), is the first vol of their projected history; see too, S. E. Åström, Ständssamhälle och universitets besöken som socialt fenomen i Österbötten 1722–1808 (Helsingfors, 1950). iv. Background. Histories of clergy families (Presbyteriologien) are very important here. Commentary and basic bibliography covering church provinces provided by Georg Arndt, ‘Beitrag zu einer Bibliographie der Presbyteriologien (Predigergeschichten)’, Vierteljahrsschrift für Heraldik, 47/8 (1920), 59–80, and id., (1921), 1–17, 33–41, 65–73 (pp. 67–71 give a brief but incorrect view of Scandinavia, Estonia, and Livonia). Complementary: Karl Themel, ‘Presbyteriologie und Genealogie’, Der Herold (Berlin, 1963–8), 57–85, and the recent account of the Livonian clergy: Martin Ottow and Wilhelm Lenz (eds.), Die evangelischen Prediger Livlands bis 1918, (Cologne, 1977). Sweden has its Herdaminnen; Denmark: S. V. Wiberg, Personalhistoriske, statistiske og genealogiske Bidrag til en almindelig dansk Præstehistorie etc. (Copenhagen, 1871–9; repr. 1959–60), 3 vols.; M. Grohshennig, T. Hauch-Fausbøll (eds.), Danmarks Præstehistorie 1884–1911 (1914–32), 2 vols. Important German monographs: R. von Thadden, Die brandenburgisch-preußischen Hofprediger im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1959); M. Hasselhorn, Der altwürttembergische Pfarrstand im 18. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1958); and the comparative survey by Mary Fulbrook, Piety and Politics: Religion and the Rise of Absolutism in England, Württemberg and Prussia (Cambridge, 1983). Matthias Claudius: W. Herbst, Matthias Claudius, der Wandsbecker Bothe, 4th edn. (Gotha, 1878); W. Stammler, Matthias Claudius der Wandsbecker Bothe: Ein Beitrag zur deutschen Literatur- und Geistesgeshichte (Halle, 1915). Valuable is Claudius's journalism in Asmus, and its useful selection ed. Carl Redlich (Gotha, 1879; 2nd edn. 1907), 2 vols.; the Danish connection is made by Richard Petersen, Matthias Claudius og hans vennekreds (1884). Sweden-Finland: S. Carlsson, Ståndssamhälle och ståndspersoner 1700–1865: Studier rörande det svenska ståndssamhällets upplösning, 2nd edn. (Lund, 1973), and Gunnar Suohlahti, Finlands prästerskap på 1600- och 1700-talen (Stockholm, 1927). Denmark: superb is Georg Hansen, Præsten paa landet i Danmark i det 18. aarhundrede: En kulturhistorisk undersøgelse (1947); id., Degnen: Studie i det 18. aarhundredes kulturhistorie (1944). Livonia and Estonia: incomer clergy families (after 1721 or just before): Wilhelm Lenz, Der baltische Literatenstand (Marburg/Lahn, 1953).

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Chapter 7. Cura Animarum Specialis: The Pastoral Ofce i. The Practice of Piety (covers 2nd section; Chs. 11 and 12). At a time when Halle University celebrates its tercentenary, Pietism has become a modern scholarly growth industry with a volition all its own. However, a typology of the kind Troeltsch and Weber penned can be very misleading: it can suppress a sense of historical development, and act as a catch-all. Bach could write pious music, but was no Pietist. Pietism literature, primary and secondary, is daunting. The most recent series taking Pietism well beyond 1945, and still unfinished, is, M. Brecht et al. (eds.), Geschichte des Pietismus (Göttingen, 1992–), 4 vols.; J. Wallmann published Der Pietismus in Die Kirche und ihrer Geschichte (Göttingen, 1990), with an up-to-date bibliography on provincial variants. In English, two good recent publications are W. R. Ward, The Protestant Evangelical Awakening (Cambridge, 1992), and R. L. Gawthrop, Pietism and the Making of Eighteenth-Century Prussia (Cambridge, 1993). Still important are J. G. Walch, Historische und Theologische Einleitung; Heinrich Schmid, Die Geschichte des Pietismus (Nördlingen, 1863), and A. Ritschl's controversial Geschichte des Pietismus (Bonn, 1880–86), 3 vols. (see Ch. 20); a good modern survey is Martin Schmidt, ‘Epochen der Pietismusforschung’, in J. Van den Berg and J. P. van Dooren (eds.) Pietismus und Reveil (Leiden, 1978), 22–40; RGG2, s.v. ‘Pietismus’ reprinted in Leube's collected essays, Orthodoxie und Pietismus; RGG3, s.v. ‘Pietismus’ (M. Schmidt); and M. Greschat (ed.), Zur neueren Pietismusforschung (Darmstadt, 1977). Monographs are published in K. Aland, K. Peschke, M. Schmidt (eds.), Arbeiten zur Geschichte des Pietismus = AGP (Bielefeld, 1967–); articles in Pietismus und Neuzeit: Ein Jahrbuch zur Geschichte des neueren Protestantismus (Bielefeld, 1974–). Two concise English surveys are F. E. Stoeffler, The Rise of Evangelical Pietism (Leiden, 1970), and id., German Pietism during the Eighteenth Century (Leiden, 1973); see also Van den Berg and Van Dooren (eds.) Pietismus und Reveil, and J. van den Berg, ‘Orthodoxy, Rationalism and the World in Eighteenth-Century Holland’, in D. Baker (ed.) Sanctity and Secularity: The Church and the World (Oxford, 1973), 173–92; the excellent comparative study by M. Fulbrook, Piety and Politics; papers delivered at the Cologne Historikertag (1970) under Erich Angermeier, ‘Religion—Politik—Gesellschaft: Ein Versuch vergleichender Sozialgeschichte’, HZ 214 (1972), 26–95, which includes papers by Peter Toon on ‘English’ (sic!) Puritanism (pp. 30–41), Eberhard Weis on Jansenism (pp. 42–57), and Hartmut Lehmann, ‘Der Pietismus im alten Reich’ (pp. 58–95). Pietism and the little courts (see Ch. 11): F. W. Barthold, Die Erweckten im protestantischen Deutschland während des Ausgangs des 17. und der ersten Hälfte des 18. Jahrhunderts, besonders die frommen Gräfenhöfe, Historisches

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Taschenbuch, ed. F. von Raumer (1852–3) repr. (Darmstadt, 1968); H. W. Erbe, Zinzendorf und der fromme hohe Adel seiner Zeit (Leipzig, 1928). Württemberg Pietism: the fine perspective by Hartmut Lehmann, Pietismus und weltliche Ordnung in Württemberg vom 17. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart 1969). A good modern north German survey is M. Jakubowski-Tiessen, Der frühe Pietismus in Schleswig-Holstein: Entstehung, Entwicklung und Struktur (Göttingen, 1983). Pietism and pastoral theology: Eric Lund, ‘Johann Arndt and the Development of a Lutheran Spiritual Tradition’, Ph.D thesis (Yale, 1979); Martin Schmidt, ‘Das Frühchristentum in der evangelisch-lutherischen Überlieferung vom 18–20. Jahrhundert, insbesondere in Deutschland’, in G. Gassmann and V. Vajta (eds.), Tradition im Luthertum und Anglikanismus = Oecumenica Jahrbuch der Ökumenischen Forschung, 6 (1971–2), 88–110; Martin Schmidt, ‘Das pietistische Pfarrerideal und seine altkirchlichen Würzeln’, in B. Möller and G. Ruhbach (eds.) Bleibendes im Wandel der Kirchengeschichte (Tübingen, 1973), 210–50. Pietism in Livonia and Scandinavia: in Livonia spread by an incomer German clergy c.1715–20, Olaf Sild, Eesti kirikulugu vanimast ajast olevikuni (history of the Estonian Church) (Tartu, 1938), and id., August Hermann Francke mojud meie maal (Francke's influence on church life in Estonia and Livonia), (Tartu, 1928); in German, O. A. Webermann, ‘Pietismus und Brüdergemeinde’, in R. Wittram, Baltische Kirchengeschichte, 149–66. Denmark: M. Neiiendam, Erik Pontoppidan: Studier og Bidrag til Pietismens Historie (1930–3), 2 vols., is a good startingpoint; Johannes Pedersen, Fra Brydningen mellem Orthodoksi og Pietisme (1945–8), 2 vols.: i (Copenhagen, 1704–12), ii (theologians, 1712–30); J. Lundbye, Kirkekampen i Danmark 1730–46 (1947); F. Elle Jensen, Pietismen i Danmark (1924), and id., Pietismen i Jylland: Studier over jydske Menighedstilstande, særlig paa Landet, omkring Midten af det 18. Aarhundrede (1944); P. G. Lindhardt, Peder Hersleb, Studier over dansk-norsk kirke- og kulturhistorie i første halvdel af det 18. århundrede (1939), only vol. i published; German influence: Magon, Deutschland und Skandinavien 1750–1850; Eaton, German Influence in Danish Literature, and Manfred Jakubowski-Tiessen (above). Sweden: Hilding Pleijel, a pupil of Troeltsch, stands out; see his Karolinsk Kyrkofromhet; his short Der schwedische Pietismus in seinen Beziehungen zu Deutschland: Eine kirchengeschichtliche Untersuchung (Lund, 1935); and his work on Moravianism (Ch. 11); N. Odenvik, Eric Tolstadius: Svenska pietismens centralgestalt under 1700-talet (1942); and N. Staf, Pietistisk kyrkokritik: En kyrkorättslig undersökning (Lund 1962), are valuable; hymns and prayer in Liedgren, Nordstrandh, and Hellekant (Ch. 2). iii. Philipp Jakob Spener (1635–1705) and August Hermann Francke (1663–1727). Spener: fundamental is the readable and exhaustive biography by Paul Grünberg (on him see Ch. 20 and Epilogue), Philipp Jakob Spener,

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(Göttingen 1893–1906), 3 vols. which gives the correct dating for Spener's Theologische Bedenken (Halle, 1700–2), 4 vols., and Letzte Theologische Bedenken, 3 parts (Halle, 1711)—s.v. his ‘Spener’ in RE; K. Aland, Spener-studien, (Berlin 1943); J. Wallmann, Philipp Jakob Spener und die Anfänge des Pietismus (Tübingen, 1970); Spener, Pia Desideria, ed. K. Aland (Berlin, 1964). Francke: G. Kramer, August Hermann Francke. Ein Lebensbild, (Halle 1880–82), 2 vols., and Beiträge zur Geschichte A. H. Franckes, enthaltend den Briefwechsel Franckes und Speners (Halle 1861). Both: Martin Schmidt and Wilhelm Jannasch (eds.), Das Zeitalter des Pietismus (Bremen, 1965); a useful short selection of their writings in English: P. C. Erb (ed.), Pietists: Selected Writings (London 1983). Halle: the fundamental survey is C. Hinrichs, Preußentum und Pietismus: Der Pietismus in Brandenburg-Preußen als religiösesoziale Reformbewegung (Göttingen, 1971); excellent too, Eduard Winter, Halle als Ausgangspunkt der deutschen Rußlandkunde im 18. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1953). The Halle institutes, whose parlous condition has been recently exposed by German reunification, are briefly surveyed by several essays in P. Raabe (ed.), Die Franckeschen Stiftungen zu Halle an der Saale (Hanover, 1991); the Herzog August Bibliothek—Wolfenbüttel has started the restoration of the library; an excellent collection of essays: O. Söhngen (ed.), Die bleibende Bedeutung des Pietismus. Zur 250-Jahrfeier der von Cansteinschen Bibelanstalt (Witten, 1960). References in this chapter: Pietism leavened by Saxon churchmanship: Christian Gerber, Historia derer Wiedergebohrnen in Sachsen etc., (Dresden, 1725–7), 4 vols., and his charming posthumous Historie der Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen (Dresden, 1732), which surely deserves a modern reprint. Pastoral care: August Hardeland, Geschichte der speciellen Seelsorge in der vorreformatorischen Kirche und der Kirche der Reformation (Berlin, 1898); Stolzenburg, Theologie des J. F. Buddeus und des C. M. Pfaff. Urban Pietism: G. L. Soliday, A Community in Conflict: Frankfurt Society in the Seventeenth and Early Eighteenth Centuries (Hanover, 1974); S. Badstübner-Gröger et al. (eds.), Huguenotten in Berlin (Berlin, 1988); R. von Thadden and M. Magdelaine (eds.), Die Huguenotten 1685–1985 (Munich, 1985); H. Obst, Der Berliner Beichtstuhlstreit (Witten, 1972). Travelling Swedish clergy and prisoners-of-war: C. V. Jacobowsky, Svenskar i främmande land under gångna tider (Gothenburg, 1930); S. Rydberg, Svenska studie-resor till England under Frihetstiden (Uppsala, 1951); C. V. Jacobowsky, J. G. Sparwenfeld: Bidrag till en biografi, (1932). ‘Swedish’ Siberia: C. F. von Wreech, Wahrhaffte und umständliche Historie von den Schwedischen Gefangenen in Rußland und Siberien etc. (Sorau, 1727)—a fine copy is in the British Library; the rare German translation of E. Bergelin, Karls des Zwölften Krieger in russischer Gefangenschaft (Greifswald, 1922): the

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English edition of Philip John von Strahlenberg, An historico-geographical Description of the north and eastern parts of Europe and Asia etc. (London, 1738). Danish Greenland: Hans Egede, A Description of Greenland (London, 1745); L. T. A. Bobé, Hans Egede: Colonizer and Missionary of Greenland (Copenhagen, 1952); charming English popular account by Eve Garnett who cites Bishop Heber's hymn, From Greenland's Icy Mountains: The Story of Hans Egede etc. (London, 1968); F. Gad, The History of Greenland (London, 1970), 2 vols. Chapter 8. Reform i. Visitation. There is no modern economic history of the German and Scandinavian Protestant churches for the period covered by this book; modern coverage of parish patronage is a neglected subject too: see EKL, s.v. ‘Baulast, kirchliche’, or TRE, s.v. ‘Kirchengut’: see Ch. 20 and Epilogue. Danish episcopal visitation is addressed by B. Kornerup in his splendid edition of J. P. Mynsters Visitatsdagbøger 1835–1853 (1937), 2 vols., and by L. J. Koch (ed.), Hans Adolph Brorson: Visitatsberetninger og Breve (1960), for the Ribe diocese; Pontoppidan, Evericulum fermenti veteris, in translation as Fejekost til at udfeje den gamle surdejg etc., ed. J. Olrik (1923), and Neiiendam, Pontoppidan, have much to say. In Estonian there is Olaf Sild, Kirikuvisitatsioonid eestlaste maal etc. (Estonian visitations from the earliest times to the present) in Acta et commentationes universitatis Tartuensis, 40, 4, series B, Humaniora, xi (Tartu, 1937), with a brief German summary. Saxony: Georg Müller, ‘Verfassungs- und Verwaltungsgeschichte der sächsischen Landeskirche’; BSKG (1894), 1–272, ibid. (1895), 1–320, is a mine of information on this subject. ii. Land and People, Propagation of the Gospel, and a Reformation of Manners. See Ch. 3. Excellent on the new history is Ellen Jørgensen, Historieforskning i Danmark indtil aar 1800 (1931; 2nd edn. 1964). Linné: E. Malmeström, Carl von Linné's religiösa åskadning (Uppsala, 1926); T. M. Fries, Linné: Lefnadsteckning, (1903), 2 vols.; J. Sahlgren, ‘Linné som predikant’, SLSÅ 5 (1922), 40–55; C. Forsstrand, ‘Uppsala på Linné's tid’, SLSÅ 7 (1924), 15–31; E. Malmeström, ‘Linné's Humor’, SLSÅ 6 (1923), 1–18; W. Blunt, The Compleat Naturalist: A Life of Linnaeus (London, 1971); his connection with Herder, N. Hope, ‘Johann Gottfried Herder: The Lutheran Clergyman’, in K. G. Robbins (ed.), Essays in Honour of W. R. Ward: Studies in Church History (Oxford, 1990), 109–34. East Prussia is served by D. H. Arnoldt, Kurzgefasste Kirchengeschichte des Königreichs Preußen (Königsberg, 1769), and id., Ausführliche und mit Urkunden versehene Historie

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der Königsbergischen Universität (Königsberg, 1746), 2 vols.. Estonian and Livonian Gospel propagation: R. Winkler, Aus den Jugend- und ersten Amtsjahren des Oberpastors am Dom zu Reval Christoph Friedrich Mickwitz (Reval, 1908), and id., Anton Thor Helle, Pastor zu St. Jürgens und Propst in Ost-Harrien (1713–48), ein estländisches Predigerleben (Reval, 1911). iii. Pietism as a Post-War Official Programme. See Chs. 7, 9, and 11. Useful are Holberg's letters in 5 vols. (1748–54; reedited in 8 (1944–54): I have used a selection from vol. xi of Billeskov Jansen's 12-vol. edition of his works. Pietism in Danish schools: J. Larsen, Bidrag til den danske skoles historie 1536–1784 (1916), i; new edn., ed. C. Kruchov et al., (1984). iv. The Catholic Christian Year in Church and Home. Swedish accounts are important: Gustaf Lindberg, Kyrkans heliga år (1937); Nils Lithberg, Almanackan: Från astrologisk rådgivare till svensk kalendar (1933); Albert Eskeröd, Årets fester (1953, repr. Halmstadt, 1970). Gerber's Kirchen-Ceremonien is wonderful, also on the following subject. v. A New Interest in the Shape of the Liturgy. Detlev Reichert, ‘Der Weg protestantischer Liturgik zwischen Orthodoxie und Aufklärung’, Ph.D. thesis (Münster, 1975). Hymns (see Ch. 9), Ingeborg Röbbelen, Theologie und Frömmigkeit im deutschen evangelisch-lutherischen Gesangbuch des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts (Göttingen, 1957); Christhard Mahrenholz, Das evangelische Kirchengesangbuch (Kassel, 1950), and Kurt Berger, Barock und Aufklärung im geistlichen Lied (Marburg/Lahn, 1951). Denmark and Sweden: C. T. Engelstoft, Liturgiens eller Alterbogens og Kirkeritualets Historie i Danmark (1840), and S. Borregaard, Danmark og Norges kirkeritual af 1685 (1953); the classic Swedish survey is S. Bælter, Historiske Anmarckningar Om Kyrcko-Ceremonierna etc. (1762), which is in the British Library; good, too, is Rodhe, Svenskt Gudstjänstliv, vi. Church Architecture: From Latin Choir to Congregational Nave. Excellent, with thorough regional bibliography including the entire Baltic region: Hartmut Mai, Der evangelische Kanzelaltar: Geschichte und Bedeutung (Halle, 1969). Sturm is evaluated in Mai above, and K. Schmaltz, Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs, iii. Church architecture: E. W. Grashoff, Raumprobleme des protestantischen Kirchenbaues im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1938); Günther Grundmann, Der evangelische Kirchenbau in Schlesien (Frankfurt am Main, 1970), A. Wiesenhütter, Der evangelische Kirchenbau Schlesiens von der Reformation bis zur Gegenwart (Breslau, 1926). Saxon Dresden: extensive treatment in BSKG; exhibition catalogue Villa Hügel, Essen (1986), Barock in Dresden (Essen, 1986) is a fine introduction, as is Cornelius Gurlitt, August der Stärke: ein Fürstenleben aus der Zeit der deutschen Barock (Dresden, 1924), 2 vols.; see S. Seiffert, Niedergang und Wiederaufstieg der katholischen Kirche in Sachsen 1517–1773 (Leipzig, 1964), and P. F. Saft, Der Neuaufbau der katholischen Kirche in Sachsen im 18.

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Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 1961); Lutheran architecture, A. Barth, Die Baugeschichte der Dresdner Kreuzkirche (Dresden, 1907), J. L. Sponsel, Die Frauenkirche zu Dresden: Geschichte ihrer Entstehung von Georg Bährs frühesten Entwürfen an bis zur Vollendung nach dem Tode des Erbauers (Dresden, 1893); Wendland, Kirchengeschichte Berlins. vii. Church Music: From Gregorian to Ambrosian. MGG is good on music in the relevant cities; Friedrich Blume's Protestant Church Music includes his own excellent guide, ‘The Age of Confessionalism’ (pp. 125–315), and Torben Schousboe, ‘Protestant Church Music in Scandinavia’, (pp. 611–36); basic is T. Schrems, Geschichte des Gregorianischen Kirchengesanges in den protestantischen Gottesdiensten (Freiburg, Switzerland, 1930); see Eberhard Schmidt, Der Gottesdienst am kurfürstlichen Hofe zu Dresden: Ein Beitrag zur liturgischen Traditionsgeschichte von Johann Walter bis zu Heinrich Schütz (Göttingen, 1961); the classic guide is Dr. Burney's Musical Tours in Europe (1772/3), ed. P. A. Scholes (Oxford, 1959), 2 vols.. Sweden and Denmark: Carl Allan Moberg, Kyrkomusikens historia, (Uppsala, 1932); id., Från kyrko- och hovmusik till offentlig konsert: Studier i stormaktstidens svenska musikhistoria (Uppsala, 1942); P. Vretblad, Johan Helmich Roman 1694–1758 (1914), 2 vols.; commentary on musical Stralsund, Tagebuch des Stralsunder Predigers Joh. Chr. Müller (1720–1772); E. Abrahamsen, Liturgisk musik i den danske kirke efter Reformationen (1919). Leipzig and Bach, a selection only: G. Stiller, Johann Sebastian Bach and Liturgical Life at Leipzig, (St Louis, Mo., 1984), and C. S. Terry, Johann Sebastian Bach's Cantata Texts, Sacred and Secular, with a Reconstruction of the Leipzig Liturgy (London, 1926), are excellent; handy on the cantatas, Alfred Dürr, Die Kantaten von Johann Sebastian Bach (Kassel, 1971), 2 vols.; in English, A. Robertson, The Church Cantatas of J. S. Bach (London, 1972). Musical Thuringia: Hans Engel, ‘Musik in Thüringen’, in H. Patze and W. Schlesinger, Geschichte Thüringens (Cologne, 1972), iv. 207–57, with map: Bach's main biographies are now in English: J. N. Forkel, Johann Sebastian Bach: His Life, Art, and Work (1802), ed. C. S. Terry (London, 1920); Philipp Spitta's 2-vol. biography (1873–80), trans. as Johann Sebastian Bach (London, 1899), 3 vols.. C. S. Terry, Bach: The Historical Approach (Oxford, 1930), and id., Bach: A Biography (Oxford, 1928; 2nd edn. 1933) are superb. The ‘poet and painter in sound’: Albert Schweitzer, J. S. Bach (Eng. edn.: London, 1911; 2nd edn. 1923), 2 vols.; the rare book, H. H. Unger, Die Beziehungen zwichen Musik und Rhetorik im 16.–18. Jahrhundert (Würzburg, 1941), and W. Serauky, Die musikalische Nachahmungsästhetik im Zeitraum von 1700 bis 1850 (Münster, 1929); James Day, The Literary Background to Bach's Cantatas (London, 1961); valuable revisions: W. Blankenburg, ‘Johann Sebastian Bach und die Aufklärung’, in id. (ed.), Johann Sebastian Bach (Darmstadt, 1970), 100–10, and A. Dürr, ‘Johann

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Sebastian Bachs Kirchenmusik in seiner Zeit und Heute’, ibid. 290–303. Bach's library: H. Preuß, Bachs Bibliothek (Leipzig, 1928); T. Wilhelmi, ‘Bachs Bibliothek: Eine Weiterführung der Arbeit von Hans Preuß’, Bach Jahrbuch, 65 (1979), 107–29, and recently, R. A. Leaver, Bachs Theologische Bibliothek (NeuhausenStuttgart, 1983). Chapter 9. Towards an Apostolic Congregation in Church and Home i. Spirituality. See previous and following chapters, August Langen, Der Wortschatz des deutschen Pietismus, 2nd edn. (Tübingen, 1968), and the key expression, ‘Erleuchtung’, in TRE. Though the following have a broader remit, they are valuable here: K. S. Pinson, Pietism as a Factor in the Rise of German Nationalism (New York, 1934), and Gerhard Kaiser, Pietismus und Patriotismus im literarischen Deutschland: Ein Beitrag zum Problem der Säkularisation (Frankfurt am Main, 1973), first published (1961). Hallesian and Württemberg piety abroad: Garold N. Davis, German Thought and Culture in England 1700–1770 (Chapel Hill, NC, 1969); in Denmark, much came via German noble officials and craftsmen in Copenhagen—see Louis T. A. Bobé, Die deutsche St. Petri Gemeinde zu Kopenhagen: Ihre Kirche, Schulen und Stiftungen (Copenhagen, 1925); Hallesian influence was eventually replaced by Göttingen's influence in Holbergian Sorø academy; illuminating is Leopold Magon, Ein Jahrhundert geistiger und literarischer Beziehungen zwischen Deutschland und Skandinavien 1750–1850 (Dortmund, 1926), only vol. i published; in English, largely based on Magon, J. W. Eaton, German Influence in Danish Literature in the Eighteenth Century: The German Circle in Copenhagen (Cambridge, 1929); Sweden, further away, was largely influenced by German devotional literature mentioned in Chs. 2 and 11, and by Pleijel, Schwedische Pietismus. ii. A Plain Person's Daily Devotional Exercise: Halle and Württemberg. It is best to read the prayer literature mentioned in this chapter; Swabian background in Lehmann, Pietismus/Württemberg, and two excellent English works: Mack Walker's biography of Moser, and J. A. Vann, The Making of a State: Württemberg 1593–1793 (Ithaca, NY, 1984); Jentzsch, Leipziger-Ostermeßkatalogen, and Schoffler, Protestantismus und Literatur, are valuable. iii. Denmark-Norway and Sweden-Finland. See sections above, and Ch. 11: Herrnhut popularized the work of Pietist clergy and circles in the entire Baltic region. Important is E. Newman, Nordskanska väckelsesrörelser under 1800-talet (Lund, 1925), only vol. i published. iv. Homiletic Reform. Improvement of language and writing and sermons: E. A. Blackall, The Emergence of German as a Literary Language, 2nd edn. (Ithaca, NY, 1978); Tillotson's influence on Gellert, G. E. Merkel, ‘Gellerts Stellung in der deutschen Sprachgeschichte’, Paul und Braune's

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Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literature, 82 (1961), 395–412. Essential reading: Johann Christoph Gottsched, Grundriß zu einer Vernunfftmäßigen Redekunst, mehrentheils nach Anleitung der alten Griechen und Römer entworfen und zum Gebrauch seiner Zuhörer ans Licht gestellet (Hanover, 1729), and id., Ausführliche Redekunst: nach Anleitung der alten Griechen und Römer wie auch der neueren Ausländer; geistlichen und weltlichen Rednern zu gut, in zweenen Teilen verfasset und mit Exempeln erläutert (Leipzig, 1736); Friedrich Andreas Hallbauer, Nöthiger Unterricht zur Klugheit erbaulich zu predigen, zu Catechisiren und andere geistliche Reden zu halten, nebst eine Vorrede von der homiletischen Pedanterey (Jena, 1723; 3rd edn. 1728), and id., Anweisung zur verbesserten Teutschen Oratorie (Jena, 1725; 2nd edn. 1728); the first two vols. of the Swabian clergyman Philipp Heinrich Schuler's (1754–1814), Geschichte der Veränderungen des Geschmacks im Predigen: Insonderheit unter den Protestanten in Deutschland, mit Actenstücken im Auszug belegt (Halle, 1792–4), 3 vols., which provides background to Ch. 13 too; in Denmark, Skautrup, Det danske sprogs historie, iii, is fascinating. Excellent surveys, RE, s.v. ‘Predigt’; TRE, s.v. ‘Homiletik’; and Alfred Niebergall's pithy commentary in Leiturgia, ii. 288–315. In the context of the new practical theology in 1900 (Ch. 20): Hermann Hering, Die Lehre von der Predigt (Berlin, 1905), an excellent short survey of both the 18th and 19th c.: covers in this context Hallesian and Swabian preaching; equally informative is Martin Schian, Orthodoxie und Pietismus im Kampf um die Predigt (Giessen, 1912), with an excellent bibliography on the main contemporary homiletic works. Literacy levels (see Ch. 8): R. A. Houston, Literacy in Early Modern Europe: Culture and Education 1500–1800 (London, 1988); H. J. Graff, (ed.), Literacy and Social Development in the West: A Reader (Cambridge, 1981), which includes (pp. 151–82) Egil Johansson, ‘The History of Literacy in Sweden’, in University of Umeå Educational Reports, 12 (Umeå, 1977); excellent on Scandinavia, M. Jokipii and T. Nummela (eds.), Ur nordiska kulturhistoria: läskunnighet och folkbildning före folkbokväsendet, XVIII Nordiska Historikermötet Mötesrapport, iii (Jyväskylä, 1981). v. Hymns. See Ch. 8; MGG, s.v. ‘Francke’ and ‘Gesangbuch’, and Blume (ed.), Protestant Church Music; Søren Sørensen, ‘Allgemeines über den dänischen protestantischen Kirchengesang’, Kieler Schriften zur Musikwissenschaft, 16 (1965), 11–21; in Denmark, the important contribution by the Hallesian-minded Danish bishop, Hans Adolph Brorson: L. J. Koch (ed.), Samlede Skrifter (1951–6), 3 vols., id., Salmedigteren Brorson: En mindebog til tohundredaaret for hans Julesalmer, 2nd edn. (1932); id., Brorson-Studier (1936).

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Part II. Piety, Enlightenment? Religious Awakening, Rediscovery (C. 1763–1918) Introduction Many of the books listed in Part I are relevant to a period dominated by modern secondary historical literature after 1866–71. Germany: up-to-date historical coverage is provided by T. Nipperdey's magisterial 3-vol. history, Deutsche Geschichte (Munich, 1983–92), i (1800–66), ii–iii (1866–1918); in English there are three excellent guides, James J. Sheehan, German History 1770–1866 (Oxford, 1989), Gordon Craig, German History 1866–1945 (Oxford, 1978), and Agatha Ramm, Germany 1789–1919: A Political History (London, 1967), which contains the best introduction to Germany in 1789; German constitutional history is covered by the relevant vols. in Ernst Rudolf Huber, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte seit 1789, 2nd edn. (Stuttgart, 1967–), the Christian church therein in his documentary collection edited with his son, Wolfgang—E. R. Huber and W. Huber (eds.), Staat und Kirche im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1973–) = Huber and Huber. The European setting is somewhat lacking though. On Prussia specifically the 1981 Berlin retrospective exhibition guide has good introductory essays, G. Korff et al. (eds.), Preußen: Versuch einer Bilanz (Reinbek, 1981), 5 vols., i–iii especially. Scandinavia: background is provided in English by: B. J. Hovde, The Scandinavian Countries, 1720–1865: The Rise of the Middle-Classes (Ithaca, NY, 1948), 2 vols.; in addition to F. D. Scott (pt. I), T. K. Derry, A History of Scandinavia (London, 1979), and id., A History of Modern Norway, 1814–1972 (Oxford, 1973). Towns (see the series mentioned in Part 1). Population growth, rural, and social change: Hans Ulrich Wehler's German social history; Michael Anderson's excellent brief introduction, Population Change in North-Western Europe, 1750–1850 (London, 1988); S. Åkerman, H. C. Johansen, D. Gaunt (eds.), Chance and Change: Social and Economic Studies in Historical Demography in the Baltic Area (Odense, 1978); Michael Drake, Population and Society in Norway 1735–1865 (London, 1969), and his excellent edition of the Norwegian pioneer of parish social rites and demography, Eilert Sundt On Marriage in Norway (Cambridge, 1980); rural poverty and change (1770–1850) is treated by W. Abel, Massenarmut und Hungerkrisen im vorindustriellen Europa (Hamburg, 1974). Sweden and Denmark, S. Carlsson and J. Rosén, Svensk historia, ii, and S. Carlsson, Bonde-Präst-Ämbetsman; the series Dansk social historie: H. C. Johansen, En samfunds-organisation i opbrud 1700–1870, 2nd edn. (1981); V.

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Dybdahl, Det nye samfund på vej, 1871–1913 (1982); and S. A. Hansen and I. Henriksen, Sociale brydninger 1914–39 (1980). General histories of the churches: Germany is served by the pioneering history of the Landeskirchen in practical theology handbooks (see Ch. 20) edited by Paul Drews: Evangelische Kirchenkunde: Das kirchliche Leben der deutschen evangelischen Landeskirchen (Tübingen), beginning with Drews, Sachsen (1902), Martin Schian, Schlesien (1903), A. Ludwig, Baden (1907), Hermann Beck, Bayern (1909), P. Glaue, Thüringen (1910), E. Rolffs, Niedersachsen (1917; revised edn. Göttingen, 1938), and Paul Würster, Württemberg (1919). Survey by Martin Schian, RE Ergänzungsband, s.v. ‘Kirchenkunde’, and TRE, ‘Drews, Paul’. Excellent too on Thuringia is Rudolf Herrmann, Thüringische Kirchengeschichte (Weimar, 1947), vol. ii. On the period up to 1850 there is, of course, Franz Schnabel, Die religiöse Kräfte, which is vol. iv of his Deutsche Geschichte (Freiburg, 1937): an interpretation which does justice to both Catholic and Protestant Germany. Guides to theology, a German university speciality in the 19th c., are: Horst Stephan, Geschichte der evangelischen Theologie seit dem Idealismus, 3rd edn. (Berlin, 1973), updated by Martin Schmidt, Felix Flückiger, and Wilhelm Anz, Theologie und Philosophie im 19. Jahrhundert (Göttingen, 1974), in Die Kirche in ihrer Geschichte; in a broader perspective, Jedin's Handbuch, Ninian Smart et al. (eds.), Nineteenth-Century Religious Thought in the West (Cambridge, 1985), 3 vols., and Claude Welch, Protestant Thought in the Nineteenth Century (New Haven Conn., 1972–85), 2 vols. Sweden, E. Liedgren, Neologien, Romantiken, Uppvaknandet 1809–1823, in Svenska kyrkans historia vi/2 (1946), is a fine short guide; Denmark, the older surveys by L. Koch, Oplysningstiden i den danske kirke 1770–1800 (1914); id., Den danske kirkes historie i årene 1801–1817 (1879–8); id., Den danske kirkes historie i årene 1817–1854 (1883); P. G. Lindhardt, Vækkelse og kirkelige retninger, 3rd edn. (Aarhus, 1978); id., Tiden 1849–1901, and id., Tiden 1901–1965 in Den danske kirkes historie, vii, viii; Norway, superb is Einar Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19. århundre (Oslo, 1979), 2 vols. Chapter 10. The Larger Whole Useful introductions are the English translation of Franco Venturi, The End of the Old Regime in Europe 1768–1776: The First Crisis (Princeton, NJ, 1989), and Owen Chadwick, The Popes and European Revolution (1981), in this series. On the material impact of the secularization of Catholic spiritual states, a large subject now, there is R. Morsey, ‘Wirtschaftliche und soziale Auswirkungen der Säkularisation in Deutschland’, in Dauer und Wandel der Geschichte: Festschrift für Kurt von Raumer (Münster, 1966), 361–83. Germany: Justus Möser, Osnabrückische Geschichte allgemeine Einleitung

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(Osnabrück, 1768) in Justus Mösers Sämtliche Werke, ed. P. Göttsching (Oldenburg, 1964), xii/1, and J. H. Michaelis, Raisonnement über die protestantischen Universitäten in Deutschland (Frankfurt, 1768–76), 4 vols., give a good sense of bonds and their rupture; charming is a modern edition of Friedrich Nicolai, Leben und Meinungen des Herrn Magisters Sebaldus Nothanker (Frankfurt am Main, 1986), put into context by Karl Aner, Der Aufklärer Friedrich Nicolai (Giessen, 1912), Richard Schwinger, Friedrich Nicolais Roman ‘Sebaldus Nothanker’ (Weimar, 1897), and Horst Möller, Aufklärung in Preußen: Der Verleger, Publizist und Geschichtsschreiber Friedrich Nicolai (Berlin, 1974). Scandinavia: Koch, Oplysningstiden i den danske kirke, and Grane (ed.), Københavns universitet, v, complement the excellent contemporary account of Sweden in Schubert's 3-vol. travelogue, his 2-vol. Kirchenverfassung und Unterrichtswesen, and Lindroth, Svensk Lärdomshistoria, iii and iv. There is a splendid edn. of Topographie over Vium Præstekald af Niels Blicher 1795, ed. Blicher-Selskabet (Herning, 1978). Anders Chydenius (1729–1803, a Swedish clerical precursor of Adam Smith), Den nationale winsten (1765) is trans. as The National Gain (London, 1931), background in Lindroth, Svensk Lärdomshistoria; E. Sandberg, ‘Merkantilism och kyrkopolitik’, Kå (1949), 91–148; T. Frängmayr, ‘Den gudomliga ekonomin: Religion och hushållning i 1700-talets Sverige’, Lychnos (1971–2), 217–44 Livonia and Estonia: August Wilhelm Hupel, Topographische Nachrichten von Lief- und Ehstland (Riga, 1774–82), 3 vols.. The new topographic and cultural literature written by Herder's generation of Protestant parish clergy is vast, and it calls out for a fair modern appreciation: a good survey (with portraits) is given in Georg von Rauch (ed.), Geschichte der deutschbaltischen Geschichtsschreibung (Cologne, 1986) of a generation of parish clergy who followed Pietist predecessors in the sponsorship of Estonian and Latvian culture. Roger Bartlett (London University) is preparing a biography of the humane vicar of Estonian Torma and Lohuse (Lohkuse), Johann Georg Eisen (1717–79). He was patronized by Catherine II, and stood up for peasant emancipation after 1765; another example is the Königsberger, Johann Jakob Harder (1734–75), who attempted, using his poor command of Latvian, an Untersuchung des Gottesdienstes, der Wissenschaften, Handwerke, Regierungsarten und Sitten der alten Letten aus ihrer Sprache, (Riga, 1764). (He translated Alexander Pope's Essay on Man (Halle, 1772), and was pastor at St James in Riga after 1773.) Julius Eckardt, Livland im achtzehnten Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 1876), is a classic introduction; good too, Schaudinn, Deutsche Bildungsarbeit. On the importance of Riga as a publishing centre: Henryk Rietz, ‘Das Verlagswesen in Riga in den Jahren 1750–1810’, Nordost-Archiv: Zeitschrift für Kulturgeschichte und Landeskunde (1985), 187–214, 241–64, and his book on Riga in the Enlightenment (1977) mentioned Ch. 16.

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Surnames and their connection with land reform, a chance connection summed up in Grundtvig's saying ‘Den blinde Skiebne—det altid er, som Lyst og Qval udskifter’, Molbech, Dansk Ordbog (1833), ii. 576, are treated by Skautrup, Det danske Sprogs Historie, ii–iv, and in Livonia and Estonia briefly by W. Lenz ‘Volkstumswechsel in den baltischen Ländern’, Ostdeutsches wissenschaftliches Jahrbuch des ostdeutschen Kulturrates, iii–iv (1956–7), 181–200, and H. Speer, Das Bauernschulwesen im Gouvernement Estland (Tartu, 1936); on the disappearance of shepherds on the commons there is the Danish study, H. P. Hansen, Hyrdeliv paa heden (1941). Berlin: TRE, s.v. ‘Brandenburg II’; Wendland, Kirchengeschichte Berlins; and Max Lenz, Geschichte der königlichen FriedrichsWilhelms-Universität Berlin (Berlin, 1910–18), 4 vols. in 5; Süßmilch's contribution is assessed by: R. Horvath, ‘ “L'ordre divine” de Süssmilch’, Population, 17 (1962), 267–88, his writings in W. F. Willcox and F. S. Crum, ‘A Trial Bibliography of the Writings of Johann Peter Süssmilch, 1707–1767’, Quarterly Publications of the American Statistical Association (1897), 310–14; Büsching wrote a very informative biography, Eigene Lebensgeschichte, in vier Stücken (Halle, 1789); Nicolai's topography: Beschreibung der königlich Residenzstädte Berlin und Potsdam, aller daselbst befindlicher Merkwürdigkeiten und der umliegenden Gegend (Berlin, 1786), 3 vols. (see Aner above); Schleiermacher's practical advice, Kurze Darstellung des theologischen Studiums zum Behuf einleitender Vorlesungen (Berlin, 1811), ed. Heinrich Scholz, 3rd edn. (1900), repr. (Hildesheim, 1961). The Mecklenburgs: Wiggers's pioneering Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs (Parchim, 1840); Kirchliche Statistik oder Darstellung der gesammten christlichen Kirche nach ihrem gegenwärtgen äußeren und inneren Zustande (Hamburg, 1842), 2 vols.; his informative autobiography, Aus meinem Leben (Leipzig, 1901) is very important; K. Schmaltz, Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs, iii, gives excellent coverage. Chapter 11. Herrnhut See Chs. 7, 9, 12, and 15. A good collection of Moravian literature is in Lambeth Palace Library, which can be supplemented, after a trip back over the river, by the British Library. Zinzendorf's effusive writing, a trait he shared in common with Thomasius, has so far only been reprinted in its original octavo form: Hauptschriften, eds. E. Beyreuther and G. Meyer (Hildesheim, 1962–); Erich Beyreuther's Der junge Zinzendorf, mentioned here, opening his trilogy, 2nd edn. (Marburg an der Lahn, 1988), should be read with id., Studien zur Theologie Zinzendorfs (Neukirchen-Vluyn, 1962); Gösta Hök, Zinzendorfs Begriff der Religion (Uppsala, 1948); Otto Uttendörfer, Zinzendorfs Weltbetrachtung etc., (Berlin 1929); John Wesley's connections

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with Halle, and Berthelsdorf (1738) are well-known: commentaries, Ward, Protestant Evangelical Awakening, and Garold Davis, German Thought and Culture in England. An excellent guide with selections and illustrations is H. C. Hahn and H. Reichel (eds.), Zinzendorf und die Herrnhuter Brüder: Quellen zur Geschichte der Brüder-Unität von 1722 bis 1760 (Hamburg, 1977); a good perspective with illustrations is Guntram Philipp, Die Wirksamkeit der Herrnhuter Brüdergemeine unter den Esten und Letten zur Zeit der Bauernbefreiung (Cologne, 1974). Scandinavia is well-served with studies which bridge, like Philipp, the 18th and 19th cc. H. Pleijel, Herrnhutism i Sydsverige (1925), and id., Das Kirchenproblem der Brüdergemeinde in Schweden: Eine kirchengeschichtliche Untersuchung (Lund, 1938), are basic; Nils Rodén gives a good diocesan account: Herrnhutiska och nyevangeliska väckelserörelser i Linköping Stift intill 1856 (1941); northern Sweden is served by the excellent John Holmgren, Norrlandsläseriet: Studier till des förhistoria fram till år 1830, (Lund, 1948). An exemplary Danish account is Anders Pontoppidan Thyssen (ed.), Herrnhutersamfundet i Christiansfeld (Åbenrå, 1984), 2 vols.; Pontoppidan Thyssen and Hegnsvad, De ældre jyske vækkelser, in Vækkelsernes frembrud i Danmark: see bibliog. under Ch. 15. W. Blankenburg, ‘The Music of the Bohemian Brethren’, in Blume, Protestant Church Music, 593–607, and the articles ‘Bömische Brüder’ and ‘Zinzendorf ’ in MGG are valuable on the Moravian liturgy and music, and its influence. Herbert Melchert, Die Entwicklung der deutschen Friedhofsordnungen (Dessau, 1929), includes plans and photos in addition to an excellent commentary on changing burial practice. Chapter 12. The Parish and the Ofce of the Clergy i. The Unchanging Historic Parish. See previous chapters. Herder's comment to Hartknoch in K. Stavenhagen, ‘Herder in Riga’, in Abhandlungen des Herder Instituts zu Riga, i (1925), 3–22; the diary, Tagebuch des Stralsunder Predigers Joh. Chr. Muller 1720–72, ed. G. Buchholz (Greifswald, 1910), is very informative; C. J. Fuchs, Der Untergang des Bauernstandes und das Aufkommen der Gutsherrschaften nach archivalischen Quellen aus Neu-Vorpommern und Rügen (Strasburg, 1888), is good on patronage and its parochial consequences, as is Schmaltz, Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs, iii. J. F. Zöllner, Reise durch Pommern nach der Insel Rügen und einem Theile des Herzogthums Mecklenburg im Jahre 1795: In Briefen (Berlin, 1797); Wilhelm Steffen, Kulturgeschichte von Rügen (Cologne, 1963); Heyden, Kirchengeschichte Pommerns. Spalding's ministry is mentioned below. Stroup, Struggle for Identity, surveys the Lower Saxon clergy at this time. Sweden: Ödmann's writings—he also corresponded with Thomas

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Pennant (1726–98)—are edited by. Henning Wijkmark, Ur Samuel Ödmanns skrifter och brev (1925), and he wrote the fine biography, Samuel Ödmann (1923); vagrancy in Sweden: Lars Levander, Fattigt folk och tiggare (1934), and Ulla Johansen, Fattige och tiggare i Stockholm län (1984); see bibliog. under Ch. 12. Denmark is served well by Koch, Oplysningstiden i den danske Kirke, Hansen, Præsten paa landet, and Steensberg, Dagligliv (1600–1800). ii. The Lutheran Office Revisited. I have tried to avoid the distinction between early and late Enlightenments for a process of moving towards and never quite getting there. A basic work is Karl Aner—a representative of practical theology in 1900 (Ch. 20 and Epilogue)—Die Theologie der Lessingzeit (Halle, 1929; repr. 1964): it gives a very good sense of issues and debates, as do his numerous articles in JBBK and RGG2. Sweden: Ragnar Askmark, Ämbetet i den svenska kyrkan i reformationens, ortodoxiens och pietismens tänkande och praxis (Lund, 1949); Swedish preaching by the excellent Edvard Leufvén, Upplysningstidens predikan (1926–7), i (Frihetstiden) and ii (Den Gustavianska tiden); the blanket term ‘Neology’ is dated c. 1780–90; Liedgren, Neologien, romantiken, uppvaknandet is excellent; Bælter's Swedish Rite (Ch. 8), SBL, s.v. ‘Bælter’, and K. Sundelin, Sven Bælters lif och homiletiska karakter (1880); his sermons: J. P. Dellner, Sven Bælter, en homiletisk studie (Uppsala, 1916). Denmark: Pontoppidan's Collegium pastorale practicum, (Copenhagen, 1757), quarto, in the Royal Library, Copenhagen, is essential reading. Germany: Pfaff's writing (Ch. 5) should be complemented here by K. Schlaich, Kollegialtheorie: Kirche, Recht und Staat in der Aufklärung (Munich, 1969); Mosheim, Karl Heussi, Johann Lorenz Mosheim: Ein Beitrag zur Kirchengeschichte des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts (Tübingen, 1906); Martin Peters, Der Bahnbrecher der modernen Predigt: J. L. Mosheim, (Leipzig, 1910); E. P. Meijering, ‘Mosheim on the Philosophy of the Church Fathers’, Nederlands Archief voor Kerkgeschiedenis, 56 (1975), 367–83; Stroup, Struggle for Identity; J. Meyer, ‘Geschichte der Göttinger theologischen Fakultät, ZGNKG, 42 (1937), 7–107; Fresenius, G. J. Raisig, Theologie und Frömmigkeit bei Johann Philipp Fresenius: Eine Studie zur Theorie und Lebenspraxis im Pietismus der frühen Aufklärung (Frankfurt am Main, 1975); his Pastoral-Sam(m)lungen (Frankfurt, 1748–60), 24 vols. are in Frankfurt am Main's city library—there are numerous edns. of his Beicht- und Communionbuch (Frankfurt am Main, 1746)—background is provided by H. Dechent, Kirchengeschichte von Frankfurt am Main seit der Reformation (Leipzig, 1921), ii; Spalding's Über die Nutzbarkeit des Predigtamtes is put in context by his posthumous autobiography, Lebensbeschreibung von ihm selbst aufgesetzt und herausgegeben mit einem Zusatze von dessen Sohne Georg Ludwig Spalding (Halle, 1804); the Spalding library auction catalogue gives an excellent introduction to what he read:

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Verzeichniß von dem verstorbenen Oberkonsistorialrath und Probst zu Berlin Herrn Spalding hinterlassenen sehr ansehnlichen und wichtigen Sammlung etc., (Berlin, 1804), 398pp., in Herzog August Bibliothek,. Wolfenbüttel;J. Schollmeier, Johann Joachim Spalding: Ein Beitrag zur Theologie der Aufklärung (Gütersloh, 1967), is the best appreciation so far, and contains a good bibliog. Herder is the subject of my essay, ‘Johann Gottfried Herder: The Lutheran Clergyman’; An Prediger (Leipzig, 1774), in Herder: Sämmtliche Werke, ed. B. Suphan (Berlin, 1877–1913), vii; see the fine collection of his letters: Briefe: Gesammtausgabe 1763–1803, ed. K. H. Hahn (Weimar, 1977–84), 8 vols. Chapter 13. Liturgical Reform: The End of the Established Church i. A Modern Liturgy? See Chs. 8, 14, 17, and 20. The liturgical debate was a large-scale public one in Protestant and Catholic Europe (c. 1780–1830): Prussia and her Union (1817) should be seen in this environment (see ‘Berlin’ below, and Ch. 14). Germany: good guides are TRE, s.v. ‘Agende’ and ‘Gottesdienst’; Leiturgia; Wolfgang Herbst (ed.), Quellen zur Geschichte des evangelischen Gottesdienstes (Göttingen, 1968); Graff, Auflösung, ii, which should be read critically; Reichert, ‘Liturgik zwischen Orthodoxie und Aufklärung’; A. Ehrensperger, Die Theorie des Gottesdienstes in der späten deutschen Aufklärung (Zurich, 1971). Local church liturgies: Württemberg, C. Kolb, Die Geschichte des Gottesdienstes in der evangelischen Kirche Württembergs (Stuttgart, 1913); the important palatinate, Johannes Müller, Die Vorgeschichte der pfälzischen Union, and Wolfgang Jung, Die Geschichte des evangelischen Gottesdienstes in der Pfalz von der Reformation zur Union (Grünstadt, 1959), i, with critical review by K. Landgraf; ‘Der evangelische Gottesdienst in der Pfalz’, BfPKG 26 (1959), 102–8. East Prussian Königsberg: W. Wendland, Ludwig Ernst von Borowski, Erzbischof der evangelischen Kirche in Preußen: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der ostpreußischen Kirche im Zeitalter der Aufklärung (Königsberg, 1910) puts Kant's home city described well by Fritz Gause, Die Geschichte der Stadt Königsberg in Preußen (Cologne, 1965) into liturgical relief, and Borowski, the liturgist, in return gives a fine portrait of his good friend Kant, Darstellung des Lebens und Charakters Immanuel Kant (1792), in Immanuel Kant: Sein Leben in Darstellungen von Zeitgenossen (Königsberg, 1804), ed. Felix Groß (Berlin, 1912), repr. (Darmstadt, 1980): Kant's beloved younger brother, a good amateur historian, reciter of Horace and Virgil, and mathematician, Johann Heinrich (1735–1800), headmaster of Mitau's grammar school (1775–81) became a Courland vicar in 1782, K&O, s.v. ‘Kant, Johann Heinrich’.

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Troubled Silesia, Otto Aust, Die Agendenreform in der evangelischen Kirche Schlesiens während der Aufklärungszeit und ihr Einfluss auf die Gestaltung des kirchlichen Lebens (Breslau, 1910). Revision of language contained in hymn-books: Paul Sturm, Das evangelische Gesangbuch der Aufklärung: Ein Beitrag zur deutschen Geistesgeschichte des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts (Barmen, 1923). Sweden: Schubert's excellent 2-vol. Kirchenverfassung; R. N. Bain, Gustavus III and his contemporaries, 1740–1792: An Overlooked Chapter (London, 1894), 2 vols. is valuable; two fine liturgical histories by D. Helander, Den liturgiska utvecklingen i Sverige under 1800-talet: Tillkomsten av 1811 års kyrkohandbok (Lund, 1934); id., Den liturgiska utvecklingen i Sverige 1811–1894 (1939); and id., Den lindblomska katekesen (Lund, 1947); supplementary is Liedgren's church history, Neologien etc.; clergy reaction to change in parliament, Bertil Rehnberg, Prästeståndet och religionsdebatten 1786–1800 (Uppsala, 1966), and earlier, C. E. Normann, Cleri comitialis cirkulär 1723–1772 (1952); M. Lamm, Upplysningstidens romantik: den mystiskt sentimentale strömningen i svensk litteratur (1918–22), 2 vols.; on the Gustavian period, Lindroth, Svensk lärdomshistoria, iv. Denmark: Engelstoft, Liturgiens eller alterbogens og kirkeritualets historie (1840) is a starting-point; Copenhagen's seminal contribution is sketched in Eaton's, German Influence in Danish Literature; L. Bobé's collection of essays, Rom og Danmark gennem tiderne (1935), i, contains an important article by O. Andreasen, ‘Kardinal Borgia og de Danske i Rom 1779–1804’, (pp. 268–313); Bobé's edn., Biskop Frederik Münters Selvbiografi (1900), also says much, as does F. Münter, D. Balthasar Münters Leben und Charakter (Copenhagen, 1794); charming and very vivid is Christian Hviid's diary, Udtog af en dagbog, holden i årene 1777–80 på en rejse igennem Tyskland, Italien, Frankrig og Holland (1787), only vol. i published; Bastholm, the classic biography by Michael Neiiendam, Christian Bastholm: Studier over oplysningen teologi og kirke (1922); the Royal Library, Copenhagen, holds all the books written by Bastholm listed in the text, and (n. 21) the literature on the public liturgical controversy: Adler is treated by H. H. Ramm et al. (eds.) Kirche im Umbruch, SHKG 5. ii. Suitable Liturgical Music? See Ch. 17. Blume, Protestant Church Music, and Burney's Musical Tour are essential reading; complementary is Ulrich Leupold, Die liturgischen Gesänge der evangelischen Kirche im Zeitalter der Aufklärung und Romantik (Kassel, 1933). iii. A Modern Sermon? See Ch. 12. R. Krause, Die Predigt der späten deutschen Aufklärung 1770–1805 (Stuttgart, 1965), is the best short survey in addition to Niebergall in Leiturgia, ii; K. H. Sack, Geschichte der Predigt in der deutschen evangelischen Kirche von Mosheim bis auf den letzten Jahre von Schleiermacher und Menken (Heidelberg, 1866), is a fine older account. iv. Renovation of Churches. In addition to the books listed, the Scandinavian

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visit (1799) by the Anglican clergymen Malthus and Clarke produced Clarke's elegant survey, and The Travel Diaries of T. R. Malthus, ed. P. James (Cambridge, 1966). v. End of the Established Church etc. See Ch. 14. The obligatory nature of the liturgy, and the way it crumbled at this time, can be linked to the same process undergone by the Mosaic law (talion) which exercised the minds of Thomasius and Michaelis; of interest as to its hold in a Swedish churchscape, noticed by Clarke and Malthus, is H. Munktell, ‘Mose lag och svensk rättsutveckling: några huvuddrag’, Lychnos (1936), 131–50 (decree of 1779 abolished the death sentence for ‘sorcery’; stocks outside parish churches were removed in 1841, stools of penitence in 1855), see Arthur Thomson, I Stocken: Studier i stockstraffets historia (Lund, 1972); the Danish variant when censorship was reimposed (1799), Georg Hansen, Sædelighedsforhold blandt landbefolkningen i Danmark i det 18. århundrede: en kulturhistorisk underøgelse (1957). Constitutional change: Ussing's Kirkeforfatningen is basic; excellent, too, is H. J. H. Glædemark, Kirkeforfatningsspørgsmålet i Danmark indtil 1874: En historisk-kirkeretlig studie (1948); in Sweden, C. A. Hessler, Stat och religion i upplysningstidens Sverige (Uppsala, 1956), and Arne Palmqvist, Die römischkatholische Kirche in Schweden nach 1781 (Uppsala, 1958), i (1783–1820), ii (1820–73), and Liedgren, Neologien etc., should be consulted. Brandenburg-Prussia: basic is the 2-vol. study by Erich Foerster, a pupil of Sohm and modern practical theology in 1900 (see Ch. 20): Die Entstehung der preussischen Landeskirche unter der Regierung König Friedrich Wilhelm III. (Tübingen, 1905–7); the Prussian Code is available as Allgemeines Landrecht für die preußischen Staaten, ed. Hans Hattenhauer (Frankfurt am Main, 1970), and he gives a superb short introduction. On Frederick William II, Otto Hintze, Die Hohenzollern und ihr Werk (Berlin, 1916); Frederick William III, the recent biography by T. Stamm-Kuhlmann, König in Preußens großer Zeit: Friedrich Wilhelm III.: Der Melancholiker auf dem Thron (Berlin, 1992), and since we are on the subject of pious kings, two biographies of Frederick William IV deserve mention: W. Bussmann, Zwischen Preußen und Deutschland: Friedrich Wilhelm IV: Eine Biographie, (Berlin, 1990), and D. Blasius, Friedrich Wilhelm IV 1795–1861: Psychopathologie und Geschichte (Göttingen, 1992). One should not, of course, forget David Friedrich Strauss, Der Romantiker auf dem Thron der Cäsaren oder Julian der Abtrünnige: Ein Vortrag (Mannheim, 1847). Berlin (Chs. 13 and 14 are linked here): In addition to bibliog. under Ch. 10, Johann Gustav Reinbeck, Betrachtungen über die in der Augspurgischen Confession enthaltene und damit verknüpfte göttliche Wahrheiten etc., (Berlin, 1733), 2 vols.; excellent work was done by Aner and Wendland in the decade before 1914; some of it appears in JBBKG: K. Aner, ‘Friedrich Germanus Lüdke: Streiflichter auf die Theologie und

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kirchliche Praxis der deutschen Aufklärung’, JBBKG 11–12 (1914), 160–231; W. Wendland, ‘Die praktische Wirksamkeit Berliner Geistlicher im Zeitalter der Aufklärung (1740–1806)’, JBBKG 9–10 (1913), 320–76; ibid. 11–12 (1914), 233–303; see too, J. F. Bachmann, Zur Geschichte der Berliner Gesangbücher (Berlin, 1856). Alexander Altmann, Moses Mendelssohn: A Biographical Study (London, 1973), and the 1979 exhibition catalogue, Nachum T. Gidal (ed.), Moses Mendelssohn and his Time (Tel-Aviv, 1979), give another perspective. Chapter 14. A Constitutional Reformation Church Order? i. New Boundaries and Parishioners. The Hare collection in Trinity College, Cambridge, provides excellent coverage on the changes and debates described here, as does Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche i and ii. Protestant Prussia in flux is described by Foerster (Ch. 13), and by L. Witte in his charming biography of Tholuck: Das Leben D. Friedrich August Gottreu Tholucks (Bielefeld, 1884–6), 2 vols.; F. Magen, Protestantische Kirche und Politik in Bayern: Möglichkeiten und Grenzen in der Zeit von Revolution und Reaktion 1848–1859 (Cologne, 1986), and B. H. Bonkhoff, Geschichte der vereinigten protestantisch-evangelisch-christlichen Kirche der Pfalz 1818–1861 (Munich, 1986), are excellent on a recast Protestant Bavaria. Hanoverian political background: R. Oberschelp, Politische Geschichte Niedersachsens 1803–1866 (Hildesheim, 1988). Livonia and Estonia: Horst Garve, Konfession und Nationalität: Ein Beitrag zum Verhältnis von Kirche und Gesellschaft in Livland im 19. Jahrhundert (Marburg/Lahn, 1978). ii. The Reformation Family of Church Orders Reshaped. The relevant volumes in the series Evangelische Kirchenkunde, ed. P. Drews, give a good background to a complex piecemeal process. Livonian, Estonian, and Courlandic church order subject to Russia's Lutheran canon law (1832: Erik Amburger, Geschichte des Protestantismus in Rußland (Stuttgart, 1961), is basic to the text of the ‘Gesetz für die evangelisch-lutherische Kirche in Rußland’, 28 Dec. 1832, given in R. Stupperich (ed.), Kirchenordnungen der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche in Rußland (Ulm, 1959). K. B. Ritschl's place here: Hermann Dalton, Bischof Ritschls Mitarbeit an dem Gesetz für die lutherische Kirche (Leipzig, 1893). iii. Sweden, Prussia, and Bavaria. See bibliog. above, under Ch. 13, and local church histories. Norway gets very full treatment by Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19. århundre. Y. Brilioth's chapter, ‘Från Reformationen till 1809’, in his Vården om kyrkan (1956), 7–30, is an incisive introduction, as is S. Göransson, (n. 17), and S. Kjöllerström, ‘P. Wieselgren och E. J.

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Geijer om svenska kyrkans bekännelseskrifter’, in Festskrift tillägnad B. Rud. Hall den 14. november 1946, (Nässjö, 1946) 228–39. Prussia: W. Wendland, ‘Die Reformationsjubelfeiern in Berlin und Brandenburg’, JBBKG 15 (1917), 66–109; Robert Bigler, The Politics of German Protestantism: The Rise of the Protestant Church Èlite in Prussia, 1815–1848 (Berkeley, Calif., 1972); Schleiermacher and his times are described in Wilhelm Dilthey's classic Leben Schleiermachers (Berlin, 1870; repr. 3rd edn. 1970); Schleiermacher's copious writing (much in the Julius Hare collection) now in F. D. E. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Berlin, 1984–); his views on religious articles, Martin Ohst, Schleiermacher und die Bekenntnisschriften (Tübingen, 1989); stipends in addition to Foerster, i and ii, J. Niedner, Die Ausgaben des preußichen Staats für die evangelische Landeskirche, and W. Wendland, ‘Schwierigkeiten in der Durchführung der Union von 1817’, JBBKG 16 (1918), 94–101. Chapter 15. Awakening i. Pastoral Failure. Language, high and low, etymology is important: see Grimm, Deutsches Wörterbuch; in Denmark, Molbech (1833), and Skautrup; the useful English survey, W. K. Matthews, ‘Linguistic Aspects of Estonian’, Slavonic and East European Review, 32 (1953–4), 291–317. Bible mission in this light: W. Canton, A History of the British and Foreign Bible Society (London, 1904–10), 5 vols.; John Paterson, A Book for Every Land: Reminiscences of Labour and Adventure in the Work of the Bible Circulation in the North of Europe and Russia (London, 1857), and T. S. Henderson, Memoir of the Reverend Ebenezer Henderson . . . Including his Labours in Denmark, Iceland, Russia etc. (London, 1859). Pastoral theology (1800–40, Lund after 1831), M. Cronquist, ‘Teologfrekvensen i Sverige efter 1830’, Kå (1925), 139–94; the excellent study by Lars Österlin, Thomanders kyrkogärning (1960); Bishop Henrik Reuterdahl's Memoarer (Bibliog. Ch. 18); E. Newman (ed.), Lunds domkyrkas historia 1145–1945 (1946), ii; Grane (ed.), Københavns universitet, v; Conrad, German Universities in the Last Fifty Years; Engelhardt, Deutsche Universität Dorpat. Central to revival and modern Danish culture (also as a popular educational influence in Norway) is Grundtvig. Erica Simon, Réveil nationale et culture populaire en Scandinavie: La genèse de la højskole nordique 1844–1878 (Paris, 1960); his times in English, Michael Plekon, ‘Kierkegaard, the Church, and Theology of Golden Age Denmark’, JMH 34 (1983), 245–66, and P. G. Lindhardt, Grundtvig: An Introduction (London, 1951); an excellent collection of essays, C. Thodberg and A. Pontoppidan Thyssen, N. F. S. Grundtvig: Tradition and Revival (Copenhagen, 1983); the library of the Scandinavian scholar John Heath in King's College, Cambridge, has a good collection of his and contemporary writings. Kierkegaardiana,

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needless to say, is a vast subject, but English-speaking historians are well-served now by Bruce H. Kirmmse, Kierkegaard in Golden Age Denmark (Bloomington, Ind., 1990). ii. Preaching and Prayer. See Ch. 2. Revival of prayer literature: Beck, Die religiöse Volkslitteratur; the Swabian 19th-c. devotional contribution in M. Scharfe, Evangelische Andachtsbilder, and id., Die Religion des Volkes: Kleine Kultur- und Sozialgeschichte des Pietismus (Gütersloh, 1980). Swedish inventories of personal estates mentioned by Lindquist (Ch. 2), and the printed inventory from an East Bothnian clergy home: E. Estlander, ‘Biblioteket i ett österbottniskt prästhem på 1700-talet, Arkiv för Svenska Österbotten (1937), 115–207. Links with patriotism: G. Kaiser, Pietismus und Patriotismus im literarischen Deutschland, and R. Mitchison (ed.), The Roots of Nationalism: Studies in Northern Europe (Edinburgh, 1980). Travelling preachers, Canton (above), i, and Lehmann, Pietismus . . . Württemberg; TRE, s.v. 'Basle', ‘Christentumsgesellschaft’; Bibles, TRE, s.v. ‘Bibel IV’—printing, illustrations, ibid. s.v. ‘Bibel V: Praktisch-theologisch’; Scharfe (above) is excellent on Stuttgart's central role, and the penchant for Adrian Ludwig Richter's sentimental woodcuts and German Pre-Raphaelitism. Important too: Martin Brecht (ed.), Die basler Christentumsgesellschaft (Göttingen, 1981), Ernst Staehelin, Die Christentumsgesellschaft in der Zeit der Aufklärung und der beginnenden Erweckung (Basle, 1970), id., Die Christentumsgesellschaft in der Zeit von der Erweckung bis zur Gegenwart (Basle, 1974). Martin Schmidt, ‘Die innere Einheit der Erweckungsfrömmigkeit im Übergangsstadium zum lutherischen Konfessionalismus’, ThLZ 74 (1949), 17–28, should be linked to Ch. 17. iii. Timing and Geography. Scandinavia: excellent survey, ‘De religiösa folkrörelserna och samhället c.1750–1850;, Historiallinen Arkisto, 62 (1967), 7–112; Norwegian revivalism, Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19. århundre, i, and Hauge, Andreas Aarflot, Hans Nielsen Hauge, liv og budskap (Oslo, 1971); Denmark provides possibly the best in-depth area study of the awakening: A. P. Pontoppidan Thyssen et al. (eds.), Vækkelsernes frembrud i Danmark i første halvdel af det 19. århundrede (1960–77), 7 vols.: i (Copenhagen and environs), ii (Sjælland), iii (Fyn), iv (Jutland), v (Jutland), vi (Baptists in northern Jutland), vii (Southern Jutland, and linkage with Danish nationalism apropos the duchies). Sweden: Links with land reform, see the instructive essay of H. Pleijel, ‘Bodenreform und Frömmigkeit: Ein Problem der schwedischen Volkskunde’, in Skrifter utg. av Svenska Institutet i Rom. Ser. 2: 1, Martino P. Nilsson dedicatum (1939), 402–8; Ernst Newman's excellent Gemenskaps- och frihetssträvanden i svenskt fromhetsliv 1809–1855 (Lund, 1939), and a large mix of diocesan and area studies are valuable: only a selection here. Lund diocese and south-western Sweden: Schartau and his influence, Lechard

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Johannesson, Henrich Schartau (1957), V. Södergren, Henric Schartau och västsvenskt kyrkoliv: Ett forsök till historisk og kyrkogeografisk konturteckning av den schartauska kristendomstypen (Uppsala, 1925); G. Nelson, Den västsvenska kristendomstypen: Studier och forskningar (1933–7), 2 vols.; Ernst Newman, Nordskånska väckelserörelser under 1800-talet (Lund, 1925), only vol. i published; A. Nordberg, Den kyrkliga väckelsen i Skara stift under förra hälften av 1800-talet (1939), which is supplemented by the very fine study, S. Plith, Kyrkoliv och väckelse: Studier i den nyevangeliska väckelsens genombrott i Skara stift (1959). Northern Sweden, the Readers and New Readers, John Holmgren, Norrlandsläseriet, and Nils Rodén, Det norrländska nyläseriets uppkomst (1942), A. Sandewall, Separatismen i Övre Norrland 1820–1855 (Uppsala, 1952); O. Brännström, Den laestadianska själavårdstraditionen i Sverige under 1800-talet (Lund, 1962). Stockholm: S. Järpemo, Väckelse och kyrkans reform: från religiös sällskapsbildning i Stockholm til inre mission och samfund 1771–1858 (Uppsala, 1977); and Gunnar Westin, George Scott och hans verksamhet i Sverige (1928–9), 2 vols.; Canton, i, and Paterson, A Book For Every Land, are useful too. Finland: accounts in Swedish, Magnus Rosendal, Den finska pietismens historia i 19. århundradet, (Uleåborg, 1903), only vol. i published, and Tor Krook, Väckelserörelserna i Österbottens svenska församlingar under 1800-talet (Helsinki, 1931), 2 vols.. Estonia and Livonia: good short surveys in Wittram (ed.) Baltische Kirchengeschichte and Estonia Christiana; very important, the Moravians described by Philipp, Wirksamkeit der Brüdergemeine; in the context of partial emancipation 1802–19, and including a German summary, Hans Kruus, Talurahva kääriminne louna-eestis xix sajandi 40-ndail aastail (Peasant Movement in Southern Estonia in the 1840s) (Tartu, 1930); the classic German account is Theodor Harnack, Die lutherische Kirche und die Herrnhuter Brüdergemeinde (Erlangen, 1860). Scandinavian area studies on this subject are not so widespread in Germany if Lehmann's Pietismus . . . Württemberg is excepted. It is important to grasp personal contacts between Catholic and Protestant, Reformed and Lutheran, and the way these spread geographically as a network in the period c.1800–30. The emissaries of the British and Foreign Bible Society brought this experience back home with them. One has before one the emergence of a pastoral theology and a devotio moderna: witness the reprintings of Thomas á Kempis: obvious examples are Sailer and the Bavarian Allgäu, Lutheran Nuremberg and Franconia; in a Reformed context, Amsterdam and Basle, and their respective influence in the Rhineland and Westphalia, and Württemberg; such influence also affected charitable work discussed in Ch. 16. This mission spread northwards naturally to northern Germany, and to the entire Baltic area: you will find the relevant literature in the libraries of Lund and Uppsala, and in the private libraries of bishops

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such as Thomander; some of this literature is presented in Magen, Protestantische Kirche und Politik in Bayern, and Lehmann, Pietismus . . . Württemberg; there is a good article on Korntal in TRE. An excellent modern introduction is TRE, ‘Erweckung/Erweckungsbewegungen’, by Gustav A. Benrath, who puts awakened Protestant Germany in a European context; the older survey, W. Wendland, ‘Erweckungsbewegung im 19 Jahrhundert’, RGG2, is good too; L. Tiesmeyer, Die Erweckungsbewegung in Deutschland während des 19. Jahrhunderts (Kassel, 1901–11), 16 pamphlets, is dated and patchy, but it serves as an introduction, province by province; Berlin revival can be consulted in W. Wendland, Kirchengeschichte Berlins, and id., ‘Studien zur Erweckungsbewegung Berlin (1810–1830)’, JBBKG 19 (1924), 5–77; on Goßner there is the somewhat rosy, Hermann Dalton, Johannes Goßner: ein Lebensbild aus der Kirche des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts, 3rd edn. (Berlin, 1898); TRE, s.v. ‘Goßner’; Fritz Fischer, Moritz August von Bethmann-Hollweg und der Protestantismus (Berlin, 1938?) and his article in NDB are excellent, but often forgotten: it is best to turn to local church histories such as Heyden, Kirchengeschichte Pommerns, and Neumeyer, Danzig und Westpreußen, ii (see also, H. Bork, Zur Geschichte des Nationalitätenproblems in Preußen: Die Kirchenpolitik Theodors von Schön in Ost- und Westpreußen 1815–1843 (Leipzig, 1933); on pious Prussian nobility and Conservatism:. R. M. Berdahl, The Politics of the Prussian Nobility: The Development of a Conservative Ideology 1770–1848 (Princeton, NJ, 1988). Chapter 16. Charity i. The Gradual End of Home-Parish Benevolence. See Chs. 12 and 15. A concise modern German survey: Christoph Sachße and Florian Tennstedt, Geschichte der Armenfürsorge in Deutschland vom Spätmittelalter bis zum Ersten Weltkrieg (Stuttgart, 1980), with selected source material; still useful, Gerhard Uhlhorn, Die christliche Liebestätigkeit (Stuttgart, 1882–90; 2nd edn. 1895; repr. Darmstadt, 1959), 3 vols., and his article, ‘Wohlthätigkeitsanstalten’, RE (1908); basic is William O. Shanahan, German Protestants Face the Social Question: The Conservative Phase 1815–1871 (Indiana, 1954), only vol i published; charitable Berlin is now served by the excellent comparative study, K. Elm and H. D. Loock (eds.), Seelsorge und Diakonie in Berlin: Beiträge zum Verhältnis von Kirche und Großstadt im 19. und beginnenden 20. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1990), which somehow seems to avoid industrial Glasgow! Sweden: excellent on home parishes and municipal reform, Anders Arner, Svenska kyrkans ställning til frågan om de fattigas vård (Umeå, 1923), the pioneering study influenced by a new practical theology c.1890, Olof Holmström, Om kyrklig fattigvård: ett praktiskt teologiskt inlägg i fattigvårds-frågan

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för bestämmande af diakoniens begrepp (Lund, 1892), and K. H. Johansson, Svensk sockensjälvstyrelse 1686–1862. Denmark: Harald Jørgensen, Studier over det offentlige fattigvœsens historiske udvikling i Danmark i det 19. århundrede (1940), and Alfred Theodor Jørgensen, Filantropiens førere og former i det nittende århundrede (1921). Livonia and Estonia: Riga acts as a focus; see A. Tobien, Das Armenwesen der Stadt Riga: Eine historisch-statistische Studie (Riga, 1895). ii. A Mix of Enlightened and Moravian Charity. TRE, s.v. ‘Gemeinnutz/Gemeinwohl’ Schleiermacher's caritative view in Über die Religion: Reden an die Gebildeten unter ihren Verächtern, ed. Rudolf Otto (Göttingen, 1906); ‘Sonntag’, ReckeNapiersky; a good old study is Konrad Hoffmann, Volkstum und Ständische Ordnung in Livland: Die Tätigkeit des Generalsuperintendenten Sonntag zur Zeit der ersten Bauernreformen (Königsberg, 1939); of interest, Erik Gustav Geijer (mentioned Ch. 17), The Poor Laws and their Bearing on Society (London, 1842); the result of his English visit (1809–10). Enlightened cities: briefly, from a growing literature, Henryk Riets, Z dziejów życia umystowego Rygi w okresie ošwiecenia (Cultural Life in Riga in the Age of Enlightenment) (Toruń, 1977), is a mine of information; Hamburg, Joachim Whaley, Religious Toleration and Social Change in Hamburg 1520–1819 (Cambridge, 1985); Mary Lindemann, Patriots and Paupers: Hamburg 1712–1830 (Oxford, 1990); and Franklin Kopitsch, Grundzüge einer Sozialgeschichte der Aufklärung in Hamburg und Altona (Hamburg, 1982), and in the grimmer cityscape of cholera, Richard Evans, Death in Hamburg: Society and Politics in the Cholera Years, 1830–1910 (Oxford, 1987); Wichern's milieu, Elizabeth Haupt, Amalie Sieveking als Gründerin der weiblichen Verein für Armen und Krankenpflege in Hamburg (Berlin, 1933); and P. E. Schramm, Hamburg, Deutschland und die Welt, 2nd edn. (Hamburg, 1952), 296–301. On Kottwitz, brief articles in RE and TRE, his correspondence, Baron H. E. von Kottwitz und die Erweckungsbewegung in Sclesien, Berlin und Pommern, ed. F. W. Kantzenbach (Ulm, 1963), and W. Philipps, Ein Wohltäter im alten Berlin (Berlin, 1957); Goßner (Ch. 15); charitable Berlin also, Wendland, Kirchengeshichte Berlins, and Karl Holl, ‘Thomas Chalmers und die Anfänge der kirchlich-sozialen Bewegung’, Gesammelte Aufsätze, iii. 404–36; Oberlin is mentioned in Canton, History of the British and Foreign Bible Society, i; there is a charming biography in English by Augustus F. Beard, The Story of John Frederic Oberlin (repr., New York, 1946); modern appreciation by Erich Psczolla, Johann Friedrich Oberlin (Gütersloh, 1979). iii. Saving Children. Pestalozzi and his influence, the biography by Kate Silber, Pestalozzi: The Man and his Work, (London, 1960), and Schnabel, Deutsche Geschichte, iv; there is a good article on Falk in RE, but he really

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deserves a new biography; Zeller brothers in Württemberg, see Lehmann, Pietismus . . . Württemberg. iv. Diacony. TRE, s.v. ‘Gemeinde’, ‘Diakonie 1’; and E. Beyreuther, Geschichte der Diakonie und Inneren Mission in der Neuzeit, 3rd edn. (Berlin, 1983); both Fliedners, TRE, s.v. ‘Fliedner, Friederike and Theodor’; Martin Gerhardt, Theodor Fliedner: Ein Lebensbild (Düsseldorf, 1933–7), 2 vols.; Fliedner, Collektenreise nach Holland und England, nebst einer ausführlichen Darstellung der Kirchen-, Schul-, Armen- und Gefängniswesens beider Länder mit vergleichender Hinweisung auf Deutschland, vorzügich Preußen (Essen 1831), 2 vols., is really about Amsterdam and the Netherlands (nothing on England); see his Die besondere Seelsorge (Crefeld, 1834); Florence Nightingale (pamphlet), The Institution of Kaiserswerth on the Rhine for the Practical Training of Deaconesses (London, 1851); Fliedner et al. in the landscape of Catholic caritas: Erwin Gatz, Kirche und Krankenpflege im 19. Jahrhundert: Katholische Bewegung und karitativer Aufbruch in den preußischen Provinzen Rheinland und Westfalen (Munich, 1971); instructive too, Paul Philippi, Die Vorstufen des modernen Diakonissenamtes 1789–1848 (Neukirchen, 1966); TRE, s.v. ‘Krankenhaus’, ‘Krankenpflege’. v. Innere Mission. TRE, s.v. ‘Innere Mission’; chief biography of Wichern, Martin Gerhardt, Johann Hinrich Wichern: Ein Lebensbild (Hamburg, 1927–31), 3 vols. Chapter 17. Rediscovery i. Partial Rediscovery of the Lutheran Sung Liturgy. Musical background is provided by Georg Feder, ‘Decline and Restoration’, in Blume, Protestant Church Music, 319–404; Schumann (to whom Mendelssohn owed much, but was not always good at acknowledging his friendship and advice): Gesammelte Schriften über Musik und Musiker von Robert Schumann, ed. H. Simon (Leipzig, 1891), 3 vols. says much; all musicians, also musical cities mentioned in this chapter are in MGG; Naue is the exception: his contribution is in Leupold, Die liturgischen Gesänge; Ödmann was a keen musician and an advocate of better church music, see Wijkmark, and BL, 303–4 s.v. ‘Ödmann’; Liedgren, Neologien etc., provides an excellent background to liturgy and hymn-book. ii. Reformation Hymns and Bach's Choral Works. What was historically correct, what was ‘classical’, no one really knew. Superb is Martin Geck, Die Wiederentdeckung der Matthäuspassion (Regensburg, 1967), which gives the relevant documents; Edward Devrient, My Recollections of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy and His Letters to Me (London, 1869), S. Hensel, The Mendelssohn Family, 1729–1847 (London, 1881), 2 vols., and the memoirs of A. B. Marx, Erinnerungen: Aus meinem Leben (Berlin, 1865), 2 vols., are

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essential reading; Mendelssohn in the context of a difficult Judaic emancipation process: Katz, Out of the Ghetto, and MGG, s. v. ‘Mendelssohn’. F. Blume, J. S. Bach im Wandel der Geschichte (Kassel, 1947), charts the great man's very slow progress towards modern recognition; id., ‘Bach in the Romantic Era’, The Musical Quarterly, 50 (1964) is excellent. iii. Early Christian or High Gothic Parish Churches? What agony romantic aesthetics produced! Innerlichkeit and the Cross are themes which should not be forgotten. The painter, Caspar David Friedrich (1774–1840) who linked Copenhagen and Dresden, is a good example, esp. his altarpiece for the Thun-Hohenstein chapel in Tetschen, northern Bohemia (1807–8): excellent visual appreciations, H. Börsch-Supan, Caspar David Friedrich (Munich, 1973), the catalogue of the 1972 retrospective exhibition in the Tate Gallery, William Vaughan et al. (eds.), Caspar David Friedrich 1774–1840: Romantic Landscape Painting in Dresden (The Tate Gallery, 1972), and William Vaughan, German Romantic Painting (New Haven, Conn., 1980); the Rome connection is followed up in the fine study by Keith Andrews, The Nazarenes (Oxford, 1964); the literary angle by W. D. Robson-Scott, The Literary Background of the Gothic Revival in Germany (Oxford, 1965). Another key figure was the Catholic Silesian nobleman, Eichendorff; superb on his warm and pious, but declining Catholic noble milieu (hours whiled away tinkling (klimpern) on the piano) is Heinrich Förster, Cardinal und Fürstbischof Melchior von Diepenbrock: Ein Lebensbild (Breslau, 1858); in English, L. Radner, The Spiritual Geometer (Lafayette, Ind., 1970), in German a charming short biography, Paul Stöcklein, Eichendorff, in Rowohlt's paperback biographies (Reinbek, 1981): Eichendorff had Mendelssohn's setting of ‘Vergangen ist der lichte Tag’ sung at his deathbed; the Marienburg (Malbork): Hartmut Boockmann, Die Marienburg im 19. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1982); Cologne Cathedral, Heinrich Lützeler, Der Kölner Dom in der deutschen Geistesgeshichte (Bonn, 1948). Berlin: Hermann G. Pundt, Schinkel's Berlin: A Study in Environmental Planning (Cambridge, Mass., 1972) is more than its title suggests; in a large Schinkel bibliog, excellent are Mario Zadow, Karl Friedrich Schinkel (Berlin, 1980), and Schinkel, three years before Mendelssohn visited England in 1829, Reise nach England, Schottland und Paris im Jahre 1826 (Berlin 1986), recent trans., Karl Friedrich Schinkel, The English Journey: Journal of a Visit to France and Britain in 1826, ed. D. Bindman and G. Riemann (New Haven, Conn., 1993); Kings Frederick William III and IV, apart from the biographies listed in Ch. 13: Walter Wendland, Die Religiösität und die kirchenpolitischen Grundsätze Friedrich Wilhelms des Dritten in ihrer Bedeutung für die Geschichte der kirchlichen Restauration (Giessen, 1909), and Ludwig Dehio, Friedrich Wilhelm IV, von Preußen: Ein Baukünstler der Romantik (Munich, 1961); see Ch. 20 for reference to the two seminal

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works produced by architects at the turn of the century, Fritsch (ed.), Kirchenbau des Protestantismus, and O. Mothes, Handbuch des evangelischchristlichen Kirchenbaues. iv. Lutheran Religious Articles and Luther's Formula Missae. Basic is the fine study, Holsten Fagerberg, Bekenntnis, Kirche und Amt in der deutschen konfessionellen Theologie des 19. Jahrhunderts (Uppsala, 1952); TRE, s.v. ‘Konfessionalismus’; RGG3, s.v. ‘Luthertum II, Neuluthertum’; TRE, s.v. ‘Erlangen, Universität’, ‘Dorpat’; cf. R. Reinhardt, Tübinger Theologen und ihre Theologie: Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte der katholischtheologischen Fakultät Tübingen (Tübingen, 1977). This is a story of local revivals, hence see below, Neo-Lutheran Churchscapes; two good introductory articles: Martin Schmidt, ‘Die innere Einheit der Erweckungsbewegung im Übergangsstadium zum lutherischen Konfessionalismus’, ThLZ 74 (1949), cols. 14–28, and Kurt Dietrich Schmidt, Die konfessionelle Gestaltung Deutschlands', ThLZ 77 (1952), cols. 129–42; the Bavarian variant is described by Gottfried Thomasius, Das Wiedererwachen des evangelischen Lebens in der lutherischen Kirche Bayerns: Ein Stück süddeutscher Kirchengeschichte 1800–1840 (Erlangen, 1867); Theodosius Harnack, possibly more important as a pastoral figure than his more famous son, Heinrich Wittram, Die Kirche bei Theodosius Harnack (Göttingen, 1963), and Christoph Link, Die Grundlagen der Kirchenverfassung im lutherischen Konfessionalismus des 19. Jahrhunderts insbesondere bei Theodosius Harnack (Munich, 1966); the understandably fitful background to common Neo-Lutheran discussion, J. Cochlovius, Bekenntnis und Einheit im deutschen Protestantismus 1840–1850 (Gütersloh, 1980). v. Neo-Lutheran Churchscapes. These were: Bavaria which became the dominant church in a Lutheran revival, which, by 1850, stretched as far as Lund; naturally, Lutheran Silesia where parishioners were used to staunchly defending their identity versus the Catholic Habsburg Empire and Poland, and latterly versus poorly informed Frederick William III and his misconceived imposition of his liturgy and the Union; less so in Saxony with her milder touch; more so in Hanover, in the Mecklenburgs, and in both Pomeranias and Prussias (West and East). Tholuck at Halle and Hengstenberg in Berlin, both surrounded by ceaseless controversy—one had to take sides—should not be forgotten either. Tholuck's humane churchmanship is the subject of a good Finnish study (German summary) by K. Toiviainen, August Tholuckin teologinen antropologia (Helsinki, 1968); his friendship with Pusey, H. P. Liddon, Life of Edward Bouverie Pusey (London, 1894), 4 vols.. Later, after 1850–60, August Vilmar became a dominant figure in Electoral Hesse; Kliefoth, like Löhe (H. Kressel, Wilhelm Löhe als Liturg und Liturgiker, Neuendettelsau, 1952), was very important as a liturgist: basic are his Acht Bücher von der Kirche (Schwerin,

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1854), I vol., and in the same year his Liturgische Abhandlungen, I vol.; Ernst Haack, D. Theodor Kliefoth: Ein Charakterbild aus der Zeit der Erneuerung des christlichen Glaubens und der lutherischen Kirche im 19. Jahrhundert (Schwerin, 1910) is hagiographic; see Schmaltz, Kirchengeschichte Mecklenburgs, iii. Articles on all these clergy are in RE and TRE, but they are not easy to get to know: they were strong personalities who liked to argue; Vilmar was a figure of great contrasts who both terrified and bored (with his sermons) the last ‘elector’; all really deserve new biographies which show a generation, warts and all, who represented an older world before the dawn of modern industry and cities. Chapter 18. Church and (Nation-) State (1840–1890) i. Transregional Protestant Gatherings and Discussion about the Constitutional Position of Protestant Churches. Background, Huber, Verfassungsgeschichte, ii and iii; documents, Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, i and ii. The parallel process of liberal representation and municipalization in Germany and Scandinavia should be kept in mind; both Sheehan and Craig miss this out in their respective Oxford histories, but Sheehan, German Liberalism in the Nineteenth Century (Chicago, 1978), chs. 9 and 10, includes a brief mention; background in Jeserich et al. (eds.), Deutsche Verwaltungsgeschichte, ii and iii, and H. Heffter, Die Deutsche Selbstverwaltung im 19. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1950); the end of home-parish authority is part of a knotty process tabulated in J. Freisen, Die katholische und protestantische Pfarrzwang und seine Aufhebung in Österreich und den deutschen Bundesstaaten (Paderborn, 1906). Protestant canon lawyers of national-liberal hue became influential after 1860, as seen in Friedberg and R. W. Dove's editorship of ZfK, Ist ser. (1861–89), 22 vols., and 2nd ser. with E. Sehling (1891–1916), 25 vols., available in SavignyHaus, Marburg an der Lahn; comparison of Protestant and Catholic canon law only began to work in the 1880s: J. F. von Schulte, Lehrbuch des katholischen und evangelischen Kirchenrechts nach dem gemeinen Rechte der deutschen Länder und Österreichs, 4th edn. (Giessen, 1886); on this my article, ‘View from the Province’, in JEH, 41 (1990), 618–21; Friedberg's preferences can be seen in his following books, Die evangelische Kirche der neu einverleibten Länder in ihrer Beziehung zur preußischen Landeskirche und zum Staat (1862); id., Der Staat und die katholische Kirche im Großherzogtum Baden (1871); id., Die preußischen Gesetze über die Stellung der Kirche zum Staat (1873); id., Das Recht der Eheschließung in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung (1865), and id., Geschichte der Zivilehe (1870; 2nd edn. 1877) which drew on a detailed study of different Scottish and English law. ii. Constitutional Provision at ‘National’ Level. See Ch. 20 and Epilogue. The Hare collection in Trinity College, Cambridge, contains most contemporary

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proceedings and literature until 1870; the Frankfurt parliament, Dechent, Kirchengeschichte Frankfurt/Main, ii, and F. Eyck, The Frankfurt Parliament 1848/9, (London, 1968); Stahl is the subject of G. Masur, Friedrich Julius Stahl: Geschichte seines Lebens: Aufstieg und Entfaltung 1802–1840 (Berlin, 1930), and L. Füßl, Professor in der Politik: Friedrich Julius Stahl 1802–1861 (Göttingen, 1988). Germany: Karl Rieker, Die evangelische Kirche Württembergs in ihrem Verhältnis zum Staat (Ludwigsburg, 1887); id., Grundsätze reformierter Kirchenverfassung (Leipzig, 1899), and his Rechtliche Stellung der evangelischen Kirchen Deutschlands, are fine surveys; in the huge bibliog. on the Protestant churches, unification, and the new nation-state, Gerhard Besier, Preussische Kirchenpolitik in der Bismarckära (Berlin, 1980), is excellent, as is his article, ‘Kulturkampf ’, TRE, which tries to put the struggling decade 1870–80 in a wider European perspective; the liberal grand duchy of Baden really led the way in subjecting the Christian church to the modern state (c.1850–70—relevant legislation in Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, ii, and background, L. Gall, Der Liberalismus als regierende Partei: Das Großherzogtum Baden zwischen Restauration und Reichsgründung (Wiesbaden, 1968); Rieker in his study of Württemberg above thought the synodal element very much at the mercy of the new state constitution (1818) which paid lip-service only (§ 71) to Protestant church autonomy: background to the same debate at national level, L. Gall, Bismarck: Der weiße Revolutionär (Berlin, 1980), and M. L. Anderson, Windthorst: A Political Biography (Oxford, 1981), are excellent recent guides; Bismarck's speeches in parliament, Otto von Bismarck, Die gesammelten Werke (Berlin, 1923–33), xi, make essential reading; impact on relations with Denmark, William Carr, The Origins of the Wars of German Unification (London, 1991), and Hans Jensen, ‘Brud og Sammenhæng i dansk Aandsliv efter 1864’, KhS (1942–4), 270–349. Scandinavian clergy meetings and synodal discussion: Forhandlingerna paa det første skandinaviske Kirkemøde, Kjøbenhavn juli 1857, ed. F. Hammerich (Copenhagen, 1857); Forhandlingar vid det andra skandinaviska (nordiska) kyrkomötet i Lund den 31 augusti samt 1 och 2 september 1859, ed. H. B. Hammar (Christianstad 1860); Forhandlingerne paa det treje skandinaviske eller nordiske Kirkemøde i Christiania den 29de, 3ote og 31te july 1861, ed. W. A. Wexels (Christiania, 1862). Denmark: Glædemark, Kirkeforfatningsspørgsmålet is good on the gestation of the paragraphs relating to the established church in the June 1849 constitution, and he compares this with German and European development; handy introduction, A. Pontoppidan Thyssen, Den danske folkekirkes struktur: Historisk og aktuelt belyst, økumen 12 (Aarhus, 1979). Norway: Molland, Norges kirkehistorie i det 19. åhundre, i and ii. Sweden: Scottish-American constitutional influence began to be

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persuasive; E. E. Eklund, ‘The Scottish Free Church and its Relation to Nineteenth-Century Swedish and SwedishAmerican Lutheranism’, Church History, 51 (1982), 405–18; E. Rodhe, ‘Förbindelser mellan den skottska frikyrkan och den svenska kyrkan’, STK (1926), 321–32; N. Rodén, ‘Skotska frikyrkans inflytande på svenskt fromhetsliv vid mitten av 1800-talet’, i. ‘T.o.m. 1854’, Kå (1956), 139–71; id., ii. ‘1855–1857’, Kå (1958), III-42. Lumsden's contemporary account is valuable, Sweden: its religious state and prospects: with some notices of the revivals and persecutions which are at present taking place in that society (London, 1855); an excellent description of the path taken towards the Ecclesiastical Council and its relationship to liberal parliamentary reform, P. O. Ahrén, Riksdagen, kyrkomötet och kyrkans bekännelse i svensk kyrkorättslig tradition (Lund, 1964), and id., Kyrkomöte och synodalförfattning: en studie i svensk kyrkoförfattnings debat 1827–1865 (Lund, 1956); Österlin's important biography of Thomander is complementary, as is D. V. Verney, Parliamentary Reform in Sweden, 1866–1921 (Oxford, 1957); Anglican interest in this process, which emerged from the Lambeth Conferences (see Epilogue), produced the book by the bishop of Salisbury, John Wordsworth, The National Church of Sweden (London 1911); his son's copy, with Elizabeth Wordsworth, Word Puzzles for Winter Evenings (1922), found between the pages, is in Statsbiblioteket, Aarhus! Amongst a new Lutheran literature on Lutheran identity, A. E. Knös, Kurze Darstellung der vornehmsten Eigenthümlichkeiten der schwedischen Kirchenverfassung mit Hinblicken auf ihre geschichtliche Entwicklung (Stuttgart, 1852), with a preface by Harleß, is still useful; Lund ‘high churchmanship’ in the context of midcentury liberal change, E. Newman, Svensk högkyrklighet, lågkyrklighet och frikyrklighet: Kyrkohistoriska studier (Uppsala, 1932), and id., Gemenskaps- och frihetssträvanden etc.; Ärkebiskop Henrik Reuterdahls memoarer, ed. G. Weibull (Lund 1920), is a basic source; see too, G. Aulén, H. Reuterdahls teologiska åskådning: med särskild hänsyn till hans ställning till Schleiermacher (Uppsala, 1907). Finland: V. T. Rosenqvist, Frans Ludvig Schaumann (Helsinki, 1927), vol. I; the brief Swedish survey, L. Ingman, ‘Finlands kyrka efter 1809’, Kå (1922), 285–322; Finnish canon law: G. M. Waenerberg (ed.), Kyrkolag för den evangelisklutherska kyrkan i Storfürstendömet Finland (Helsinki, 1903), O. A. Schalin (ed.), Kyrkolag för den evangelisk-lutherska kyrkan i Finland jämte de viktigaste av gällande kyrkliga lagar och förordningar (Helsinki, 1955), and the lengthy canon law by Halvar G. F. Sundberg, Kyrkorätt (Helsinki, 1941); political background: L. A. Puntila, The Political History of Finland 1809–1966 (London, 1975), and Henryk Stenius, Frivilligt, jämlikt, samfällt: Föreningsväsendets utveckling: Finland fram till 1900-talets början (Helsingfors, 1987). iii. Protestant Self-Government in German Lands. German unification coupled with peasant reform in Russia in the 1860s really exposed the old German

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corporate order in Courland, Livonia, and Estonia: a real sense of ‘otherness’ surfaced in the decade of German unification; see Hans Rothfels's evocative lecture, ‘Reich, Staat und Nation im deutschbaltischen Denken’, Schriften der Königsberger Gelehrten Gesellschaft, Geisteswissenschaftliche Klasse, 7 (Halle, 1930), 219–40, where he cites Eckardt's essay, ‘Livländisches Stilleben’, in Aus baltischer Geistesarbeit: Reden und Aufsätze neu herausgegeben vom Deutschen Verein in Livland (Riga, 1908), i. 39–66; valuable on this theme are Eckardt's Lebenserinnerungen (Leipzig, 1910), 2 vols., and his collected essays, Die baltischen Provinzen Rußlands (Leipzig; 1868), and Baltische Culturstudien aus zwei Jahrhunderten (Leipzig, 1869); on change and German barons who did not, G. H. Schlingensiepen, Der Strukturwandel des baltischen Adels in der Zeit vor dem ersten Weltkrieg (Marburg an der Lahn, 1959). Clergy synods and synodal debate: Garve, Konfession und Nationalität, V. Grüner, Die baltischen Provinzialsynoden als Spiegelbild der geistigen Strömungen Deutschlands im XIX. Jahrhundert (Riga, 1931), R. Koolmeister, ‘Zur Geschichte der Synoden in der Kirche Estlands’, KO 21/2 (1978/9), 13–25, and with Moravianism and Russian Orthodoxy in view, Wilhelm Kahle, Die Begegnung des baltischen Protestantismus mit der russisch-orthodoxen Kirche (Leiden, 1959); parish clergy sponsorship of Estonian choirs in southern Estonia, Elmar Arro, Geschichte der estnischen Musik (Tartu, 1933), i. Linkages between Neo-Lutheran Dorpat and Erlangen, Theodosius Harnack and Bavarian Neo-Lutheran colleagues, Agnes Zahn-Harnack, Adolf von Harnack, chs. 1 and 2; H. Wittram, Die Kirche bei Theodosius Harnack, C. Link, Die Grundlagen der Kirchenverfassung im lutherischen Konfessionalismus etc., and Roderich von Engelhardt, Die Deutsche Universität Dorpat in ihrer geistesgeschichtlichen Bedeutung (Reval, 1933). Theodosius Harnack's Die Grundbekenntnisse der Evangelisch-Lutherischen Kirche: Die drei ökumenischen Symbole und die Augsburgische Konfession (Dorpat, 1845); id., Der christliche Gemeindegottesdienst im apostolischen Zeitalter (Erlangen, 1854), id., Die Kirche, ihr Amt, ihr Regiment: Grundlegende Sätze mit durchgehender Bezugnahme auf die symbolischen Bücher der lutherischen Kirche (Nuremberg, 1862); id., Die freie lutherische Volkskirche (Erlangen, 1870); id., Liturgischen Formulare: Zur Vervollständigung und Revision der Agende für die evangelisch-lutherische Kirche im russischen Reich (Dorpat, 1871–4), 2 pamphlets are basic reading on themes ventilated in Ch. 17; Vilmar's similar provincial churchmanship, both before and after the abolition of Electoral Hesse, is treated in my book, The Alternative to German Unification: The Anti-Prussian Party: Frankfurt, Nassau, and the Two Hessen, 1850–1867 (Wiesbaden, 1973). Church economics and tax (see Epilogue): Fritz Giese, Deutsches Kirchensteuerrecht: Grundzüge, und Grundsätze des in den deutschen Staaten für

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die evangelischen und für die katholische Kirche gültigen kirchlichen Steuerrechts (Stuttgart, 1910); Johannes Niedner, Die Ausgaben des preußischen Staats für die evangelische Landeskirche der älteren Provinzen (Stuttgart, 1904). Chapter 19. Numbers of Clergy and the Pastoral Care i. Protestant German Religious Statistics. A modern reassessment—one which looks at the changing economic profile of Protestant churches in nation-states—is needed. Statistics flow into clergy background and recruitment. G. Zeller (ed.), Zur kirchlichen Statistik des evangelischen Deutschlands im Jahre 1862 (Stuttgart, 1865), commissioned by the Eisenach conference, is a prelude to Kirchliche Statistik Deutschlands (Tübingen, 1899) by the clergyman, P. Pieper: reviewed by Erich Foerster, ‘Ein lehrreiches Buch’, Christliche Welt, 39, 28 Sept. 1899, fos. 928–9, who tried to convince an audience not interested in tables; Pieper (pp. 90–1), echoing Schleiermacher in his Kurze Darstellung (§ 243), when many clergy saw progress in a new German unity, bemoaned stubborn local partisanship which feared that exposure to a larger whole might expose what was lacking back home. Catholic Germany built on Pieper: H. A. Krose, Konfessionsstatistik Deutschlands: Mit einem Rückblick auf die numerische Entwicklung der Konfessionen im 19. Jahrhundert (Freiburg, 1904); id., ‘Zur Frage eines Büros für Kirchenstatistik’, Historisch-politische Blätter, 34 (1904). Protestant mobility: Eugen von Philippovich, Auswanderung und Auswanderungspolitik in Deutschland, Schriften des Vereins für Sozialpolitik, 52 (Leipzig, 1892); modern accounts by Mack Walker, Germany and the Emigration 1816–1885 (Cambridge, Mass., 1964), and Wolfgang von Hippel, Auswanderung aus Südwestdeutschland: Studien zur württembergischen Auswanderung und Auswanderungspolitik im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1984). Background to this subject: M. Fournier de Flaix, ‘Mémoire sur la statistique des religions’, Bulletin de l'Institut Internationale de Statistique, 4 (Rome, 1889); R. W. Becker, Religion in Zahlen: Ursprung und Wege der quantifizierenden Erforschung religiöser Orientierungs- und Verhaltenswesen (Heidelberg, 1968); A. Oberschall, Empirical Social Research in Germany 1848–1914 (Paris, 1968); cf. R. Currie, A. Gilbert, L. Horsley (eds.), Churches and Churchgoers: Patterns of Church Growth in the British Isles since 1700 (Oxford, 1977). The numerical picture of Lutheran Livonia, Estonia, and Courland was drawn a little before Zeller in E. H. Busch, Ergänzungen der Materialien zur Geschichte und Statistik des Kirchen- und Schulwesens der evangelisch-lutherischen Gemeinden in Rußland (St Petersburg, 1862–7), 2 vols.; cf. Axel von Gernet, Die evangelisch-lutherischen Gemeinden in Rußland: Eine historisch-statistische

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Darstellung (St Petersburg, 1909–11), 2 vols.; urban profile, W. Lenz, Die Entwicklung Rigas zur Großstadt (Kitzingen am Main, 1954). ii. Scandinavia. Statistics and recruitment can be handled together here: D. Mannsåker, Det norske presterskapet i det 19. hundreåret (Oslo, 1954), is excellent not only on Norway, but also on her Scandinavian sister churches; Danish emigration is treated by Kristian Hvidt's weighty Flugten til Amerika eller drivkræfter i masseudvandringen fra Danmark 1868–1914, (Aarhus, 1971). Sweden: a basic source, Frans Josua Linders, Demografiska studier rörande Svenska Kyrkans prästerskap (Uppsala, 1925), only vol i published; his thesis about diocesan ‘indigenous’ recruitment has been criticized strongly by Dr Ragnar Norrman (Uppsala University), the present authority on Swedish Herdaminnen and recruitment patterns: id., ‘F. J. Linders' statistika material och kyrkohistorisk metod’, Kå (1968), 99–110; see Norrman's fine study of the Uppsala archdiocese, Från prästöverflöd till prästbrist: Prästrekryteringen i Uppsala ärkestift 1786–1965 (Uppsala, 1970), and S. Carlsson, ‘Det skånska prästesrkapets rekrytering och sociale miljö 1650–1800—några iakttagelser’, Kå (1964), 43–70. Maria Cronquist, ‘Teologfrekvensen i Sverige efter 1830’, Kå (1925), 139–94, is essential reading; linkage with this century, Anders Bäckström, Religion som yrke: En studie av svenska prästkandidaternas bakgrund och rolluppfattning vid 1970talets slut (Uppsala, 1983). Finland: J. Björklund, Suomen papisto 1800-juvulla (Helsinki, 1939): review by E. Anthoni, Historisk Tidskrift för Finland, 24 (1939), 29–34. iii. Clergy Background and Recruitment. See Chs. 6 and 10, and comparisons, Alan Haig, The Victorian Clergy (London, 1984), and Gregory L. Freeze's excellent The Parish Clergy in Nineteenth-Century Russia: Crisis, Reform, Counter-Reform, (Princeton, NJ, 1983), with a comparative bibliog.; the English translation of Johann Conrad, The German Universities for the Last Fifty Years (Glasgow, 1885), with a preface by James Bryce, has useful tables comparing Protestant and Catholic theological faculties: remember that before 1830 sons of publicans did not count (p. 62)—whether they were sinners or not remains open; Conrad cites Ernesti, Über die Abnahme der Theologie-Studierenden (Stuttgart, 1875); background and numbers of clergy are treated, of course, in the relevant vols. contained in Paul Drews, Evangelische Kirchenkunde. Chapter 20. Reformation Churches and a Modern Protestant Moral Order i. Pastoral Crisis. See below, A Pastorate for Modern Times, and Epilogue. In the English-speaking world, Troeltsch and Weber have become very familiar since 1918; R. H. Tawney springs to mind. If they get less of a

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mention here, this is not because their weighty contribution is taken lightly—quite the contrary; but, in the context of this chapter and the Epilogue, Ritschl proved to be a more persuasive moral force on the pastoral commitment of young German and Scandinavian clergy in the two decades before 1914. Secondary works on modern Protestant social crisis are extensive and growing; there is a good short modern guide with bibliog., E. I. Kouri, Der deutsche Protestantismus und die soziale Frage 1870–1919 (Berlin, 1984); W. R. Ward, Theology, Sociology and Politics: The German Protestant Social Conscience 1890–1933 (Berne, 1979), sketches the background; both authors, though, have their inconsistencies; Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, ii. particularly iii, supply the documentation. John C. G. Röhl, Kaiser Wilhelm II: New Interpretation: The Corfu Papers (Cambridge, 1982), provides background to a brief flirtation with Christian social action; K. E. Pollmann, Landesherrliches Kirchenregiment und soziale Frage: Der evangelische Oberkirchenrat der altpreuβischen Landeskirche und die sozialpolitische Bewegung der Geistlichen nach 1890 (Berlin, 1973), is good on the touchy publicity surrounding the issue of whether it was admissible or not for parish clergy to participate in social-politics; supplementary, Günter Brakelmann, Die soziale Frage des 19. Jahrhunderts: die evangelisch-soziale und katholischsoziale Bewegung (Witten, 1962); in relation to Martensen, Beck, and Stoecker, id., Kirche und Sozialismus im 19. Jahrhundert: Die Analyse des Sozialismus und Kommunismus bei Johann Hinrich Wichern und bei Rudolf Todt (Witten, 1966). Martensen is available in English as Christian Ethics (Edinburgh, 1882), 2 vols.: (i. Individual Ethics; ii. Social Ethics); German edn. Die christliche Ethik (Gotha, 1871–8), 2 vols.; anti-Semitism, which Martensen's ethics and Stoecker's social Gospel raised, is treated comparatively by Peter G. J. Pulzer, The Rise of Political Anti-Semitism in Germany and Austria (New York, 1964); Karl Kupisch, Adolf Stoecker: Hofprediger und Volkstribun (Berlin, 1970), is delightfully irreverent; Werner E. Mosse and Arnold Paucker (eds.), Juden im Wilhelminischen Deutschland 1890–1914 (Tübingen, 1976), Reinhard Rürup, Emanzipation und Antisemitismus: Studien zur ‘Judenfrage’ der bürgerlichen Gesellschaft (Göttingen, 1975), repr. Fischer (Frankfurt am Main, 1987), Uri Tal, Christians and Jews in Germany (Ithaca, NY, 1975), and R. S. Levy, The Downfall of the Anti-Semitic Political Parties in Imperial Germany (New Haven, Conn., 1975) put this ominous issue into broader perspective. Protestant pastoral care in crisis in the secular city: the most influential book, in Copenhagen and Stockholm too, was Emil Sulze, Die evangelische Gemeinde (Gotha, 1891), the starting-point for Paul Grünberg's informative Die evangelische Kirche: ihre Organisation und ihre Arbeit in der Groβstadt (Göttingen, 1910), in the handy series for ordinands, Praktischtheologische

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Handbibliothek, ed. Friedrich Niebergall; a series which complements Evangelische Kirchenkunde, ed. Paul Drews. A good local perspective is C. Cordes, ‘Von der Parochie zur Kirchengemeinde: Strukturwandel des örtlichen Kirchenwesens im 19. Jahrhundert in der Hannoverschen Kirche’, ZGNKG (1975), 135–69. ii. The Legacy of Custodianship: Evangelism and Good Works in Conflict. Background, Ch. 16. Municipal social welfare: C. Sachβe and F. Tennstedt, Fürsorge und Wohlfahrtsplfege 1871–1929 (Stuttgart, 1988), the second volume of their Geschichte der Armenfürsorge in Deutschland, and Wolfgang R. Krabbe, Die deutsche Stadt im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Göttingen, 1989), are excellent short guides supplementing literature cited at Ch. 12. Beck and Copenhagen: Vilhelm Beck, Erindringer fra mit liv (1901), and Carl Moe, Oplevelser (1926), are subjective as one might suspect; background in L. Koch, Fra Grundtvigianismus og den Indre Missions Tid 1848–98 (1898), the excellent chapter by K. Banning, ‘De troende og de vantro’, in Steensberg, Dagligliv (1800–), ii. 225–43, P. G. Lindhardt, in Den danske kirkes historie, vols. vii and viii, and especially, id., Vækkelser og kirkelige retninger. Beck's mission in Copenhagen: Paul Holt, Kirkelig Forening for den Indre Mission i Danmark gennem 100 år. 1861–1961 (1961–77), a mere 909 pp., and id., Nød dem—Kirkelig Forening for Indre Mission i København gennem trekvart Aarhundrede 1865–1940 (Copenhagen, 1940); Indre Mission Sunday school and youth work, Elith Olesen, Børn og unge i dansk kirkeliv: indre Missions udvalg for børnegudstjenester og ynglingsforeninger 1883–1906 (1958); Copenhagen's pastoral response, P. Helveg-Larsen, ‘Kirkens Venner's’ Correspondance: af Kirkefondets forhistorie (1955), and Københavns Kirkesag 1890–1915: Festskrift udgivet af Kirkefondets Forretningsudvalg (1915), Copenhagen's Church Fund, Christian Gad, Et Storværk: Københavns Kirkesag gennem 80 aar, 1852–1932, 2nd edn. (1938); historical background, Søren Mørch, Den ny Danmarks historie 1880–1960 (1983), and in English, Daniel Levine, Conservatism and Tradition in Danish Social Welfare Legislation 1890–1933 (Cambridge, 1978), which shows that municipal welfare had some way to go as well. Danish links with Sweden, the significance of the crisis decade 1890–1900 in general: E. Rodhe's excellent contemporary account, Svenska kyrkan omkring sekelskiftet (Uppsala, 1930); Berndt Gustafsson made stimulating contributions on the gap between church establishment and parishioners who had come to prefer different forms of social organization, in, Kyrkoliv och samhällsklas i Sverige omkring 1880: en kyrkohistorisk-sociologisk undersökning (1950); id., Manligt, kvinnligt, kyrkligt i 1800-talets svenska folkliv (1956); and, on the theme of pastoral care in large modern urban parishes, id., Småkyrkorörelsen: Dess historiska bakgrund (1955). The theme of Protestant churches (German and Scandinavian) and

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socialism deserves a more sensitive historical approach: Gustafsson's pioneering study, Sozialdemokratien och kyrkan 1881–1890 (Lund, 1953), can be read in conjunction with his chapter ‘Kyrkan och arbetarrörelsen’, in Härnösands stift i ord och bild (1953), 515–38, and the hostility shown to the Swedish SPD by senior clergy mentioned in Rodhe's account above; in a German context, apart from Shanahan (until 1871), there is Heiner Grote, Sozialdemokratie und Religion: Eine Dokumentation für die Jahre 1863 bis 1875 (Tübingen, 1968); Renate Breipohl (ed.), Dokumente zum religiösen Sozialismus in Deutschland (Munich, 1972); Karl Kupisch, Das Jahrhundert des Sozialismus und die Kirche (Berlin, 1958); id., Zwischen Idealismus und Massendemokratie: Eine Geschichte der evangelischen Kirche in Deutschland von 1815–1945, 4th edn. (Berlin, 1963); Michael Schneider, Die Christlichen Gewerkschaften 1894–1933 (Bonn, 1982), fills a large gap; Eckehart Lorenz, Kirchliche Reaktionen auf die Arbeiterbewegung in Mannheim 1890–1933: Ein Beitrag zur Sozialgeschichte der evangelischen Landeskirche in Baden (Sigmaringen, 1987), provides local context; the ‘future’ in Protestant and socialist eyes is the subject of Lucian Hölscher, Weltgericht oder Revolution: Protestantische und sozialistischen Zukunftsvorstellungen im deutschen Kaiserreich (Stuttgart, 1989). iii. Albrecht Ritschl (1822–89) and his Practical Theology. In English, Ritschl is available as The Christian Doctrine of Justification and Reconciliation, 2nd edn. (Edinburgh, 1902); his controversial view of Pietism as an enthusiasm rooted in the monastic and ascetic is summarized in the first volume of his Geschichte des Pietismus (1880), 1–98; Otto Ritschl, Albrecht Ritschls Leben (Freiburg, 1892–6), 2 vols., is polished and instructive; modern appreciations apart from Barth, Die Protestantische Theologie im 19. Jahrhundert, repr. Siebenstern, (Hamburg, 1975) ii, and Schäfer, are by H. Timm, Theorie und Praxis in der Theologie Albrecht Ritschls und Wilhelm Herrmanns: Ein Beitrag zur Entwicklungsgeschichte des Protestantismus (Gütersloh, 1968); James Richmond, Ritschl: A Reappraisal (London, 1978); and Claude Welch, Protestant Thought in the Nineteenth Century, ii; Ritschl and the new school of religious history at Göttingen University: G. Lüdemann and M. Schröder, Die religionsgeschichtliche Schule in Göttingen: Eine Dokumentation (Göttingen, 1987) with photographs. Disciples as students, or as kindred spirits: Agnes Zahn-Harnack, Adolf von Harnack (Berlin, 1951), is a superb biography which can be complemented by the English trans. of H. G. Drescher, Ernst Troeltsch: His Life and Work (London, 1992), and J. P. Clayton (ed.), Ernst Troeltsch and the Future of Theology (Cambridge, 1976); Troeltsch's Gesammelte Schriften (Tübingen, 1923–5), 4 vols. include, in vol. i, his Die Soziallehren der christlichen Kirche und Gruppen (Tübingen, 1912), English trans. The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches (London, 1931), and vol. iii, typological essays like those on Deism, the Enlightenment, and the English (sic) Moralists: see also F. W. Graf

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and H. Ruddies (eds.), Ernst Troeltsch Bibliograpnie (Tübingen, 1982). Marianne Weber, Max Weber: A Biography, ed. H. Zohn (New Brunswick, repr. 1988), including Günther Roth's essay ‘Marianne Weber and her Circle’, is a valuable corrective to Troeltsch, whose sociological interpretation of the Christian church disagreed with Harnack: despite a warm friendship, Marianne Weber described the difference between Weber and Troeltsch thus: ‘for Troeltsch it was enough that he had to fight for intellectual freedom and tolerance within theology. Otherwise, he was not a fighter but was orientated toward reconciliation, adjustment, and acceptance of human weaknesses’ (p. 228); Wolfgang J. Mommsen, Max Weber und die deutsche Politik 1890–1920 (Tübingen, 1959), brings Weber's political resolution to light. iv. A Pastorate for Modern Times. In addition to Drews et al., Johannes Rathje, Die Welt des freien Protestantismus: Ein Beitrag zur deutsch-evangelischen Geistesgeschichte dargestellt am Leben und Werk von Martin Rade (Stuttgart, 1952), gives a good survey of this milieu; Schian's memoirs, Kirchliche Erinnerungen eines Schlesiers (Görlitz, 1940), despite their date are very informative; Lövgren's Swedish contribution is assessed by Harry Nyberg, Från väckelsemiljö till kyrkomedvetande i kyrkokris: en studie i Nils Lövgrens utveckling 1852–1896/98 (Uppsala, 1975). v. A Suitable Protestant Congregational Liturgy etc. See Chs. 8, 13, and 17; TRE, s.v. ‘Agende’ and ‘Gottesdienst’; ‘Die liturgische Erneuerung im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert’, in Leiturgia i. 73 passim; Adam Adrio's chapter, ‘Renewal and Rejuvenation’, in Blume, Protestant Church Music, 407–506. Basic professional guides to Protestant church architecture appeared at the turn of the century: magnificent with fine drawings is K. E. O. Fritsch (ed.), Der Kirchenbau des Protestantismus von der Reformation bis zur Gegenwart (Berlin, 1893), commissioned by the Vereinigung Berliner Architekten, and Oscar Mothes; Handbuch des evangelisch-christlichen Kirchenbaues (Leipzig, 1898); a good modern survey is Gerhard Langmaack, Evangelischer Kirchenbau im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Kassel, 1971); Sweden is served by the fine short study linking types of churchmanship with the architectural end product: Göran Lindahl, Högkyrkligt, Lågkyrkligt, Frikyrkligt i svensk arkitektur 1800–1950 (1955); for comparison: C. A. Nordman and N. Cleve, Suomen kirkot: Finlands kyrkor (Helsinki, 1959–), i. Scandinavian liturgies and church music: in addition to works mentioned in the footnotes, Torben Schousboe, ‘Protestant Church Music in Scandinavia’, in Blume, Protestant Church Music, gives a short summary of musical revival after c. 1880 (pp. 622–30); U. L. Ullman, Evangeliskluthersk liturgik med särskild hänsyn till den svenska kyrkans förhallanden (1874–5), 2 vols., is an interesting reflection of German liturgical influence; the Swedish Rite is covered by Eric Yelverton, The Mass in Sweden: Its

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Development from 1531 to 1917, Henry Bradshaw Society, 57 (London, 1920); translation of the service-book, id., The Swedish Rite (London, 1921); liturgical renewal, G. Aulén, ‘Den liturgiska och kyrkomusikaliska förnyelsen: motif och tendenser’, STK (1961), 209–23; Folke Bohlin, Liturgisk sång i svenska kyrkan 1697–1897 (Lund, 1970), and id., ‘Haeffner och mäss musiken’, Kå (1969), 174–202. Epilogue i. A Fragile Modern Protestant Church Order. Huber and Huber, Staat und Kirche, iii; and Huber, Verfassungsgeschichte, iv and v; W. Huber, Kirche und Öffentlichkeit (Stuttgart, 1973). Modernism, Catholic and Protestant: Jedin, Handbuch, vi/2; Harnack's ecclesiology, and his differences with Troeltsch: Martin Rumscheidt (ed.), Adolf von Harnack: Liberal Theology at its Height (London, 1989), Agnes von Zahn-Harnack's biography, and Drescher, Troeltsch. Harnack was a cofounder of the Theologische Literaturzeitung (ThLZ, 1876–), and its editor (1881–1910), and he contributed regularly to Christliche Welt, founded by Rade and three others of his Leipzig pupils; Harnack's Berlin lectures (1899–1900) Das Wesen des Christentums (Leipzig, 1900), in English trans., What is Christianity? (London, 1900), also his Monasticism: Its Ideals and History and The Confessions of St Augustine (London, 1901), read by Ritschl (Ch. 20) when writing his history of Pietism; Schweitzer: My Life and Thought: An Autobiography (London, 1933), Schweitzer's contribution to Bach (Ch. 8); Söderblom: Bengt Sundkler, Nathan Söderblom: His Life and Work (London, 1968); Eric J. Sharpe, Nathan Söderblom and the Study of Religion (Chapel Hill, NC, 1990); Rodhe, Svenska kyrkan omkring sekelskiftet; Leipzig, C. E. Edsmann, ‘Nathan Söderblom in Leipzig’, Forschungen und Fortschritte, 40 (1966), 342–6; TRE, s.v. ‘Leipzig, Universität’; Einar Billing is treated by Gustaf Wingren, Einar Billing: en studie i svensk teologi före 1920, (Lund, 1968) and TRE, s.v. ‘Billing’; Gösta Wrede, Kyrkosynen i Einar Billings teologi (Stockholm, 1966), with a bibliog. of Billing's writings; H. C. Deppe, Wächter und Späher: Studien zu Einar Billing vor dem Hintergrund theologischen Strömungen auf dem Kontinent (Lund, 1975): see also, E. Billing, 1517–1521: Ett bidrag till frågan om Luthers religiösa och teologiska utvecklingsgång (Uppsala, 1917); id., Luthers lära om staten (Uppsala, 1900), i (vols. i and ii, ed. G. Wrede, 1971); Billing's contribution to the new Swedish ecclesiology c.1900: G. Wingren, Folkkyrktanken (1964). The issue of Christian doctrine and its exposition: W. Härle and H. Leipold (eds.), Lehrfreiheit und Lehrbeanstandung (Gütersloh, 1985), 2 vols.: i. Theologische Texte, and ii. Kirchenrechtliche Dokumente; TRE, s.v, ‘Der Apostolikumstreit’, ‘Apostolisches Glaubensbekenntnis II. (Reformations-und

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Neuzeit)’; and Huber and Huber, iii; on Sohm, a staunch critic of modern Positivism and its application to canon law, and, like Böhmer, as much of a patristic and Luther scholar as a canon lawyer who disputed with Harnack: A. Bühler, Kirche und Staat bei Rudolph Sohm (Winterthur, 1965), and RGG3, s.v. ‘Sohm’; Erich Foerster who wrote the classic account of the Prussian Landeskirche (Chs. 13 and 14) published in this vein, and dedicated to his university, Frankfurt am Main, ‘Unsinn und Sinn des “Christlichen Staates’ ”, in Vorträge der theologischen Konferenz zu Giessen 47, (Giessen, 1932); on him, briefly RGG3. Tithe and stipends: Huber and Huber, iii; Brilioth, Svensk kyrkokunskap is brief and to the point; Niedner, Die Ausgaben des preußischen Staats; and Otto Ritter, Das Besoldungswesen der evangelischen Geistlichkeit Deutschlands (Gerstungen, 1882–3), 5 parts; B. Rathke, ‘Die staatlichen Maßnahmen zur verbesserung der materiellen Lage des evangelischen Pfarrstandes im Königreich Hannover’, ZGNKG (1983), 143–87; Danish vicarages and glebe: Fleming Jerk, Gamle danske præstegårde (1978). ii. War and Hard Times Again. Ecumenical approaches and Christian students: Rouse and Neill, History of the Ecumenical Movement, which includes the Swedish initiative written up by Nils Karlström, ‘Movements for International Friendship and Life and Work, 1910–1925’, 509–42, a good digest of his massive, Kristna samförståndssträvanden under världskriget 1914–1918: med särskild hänsyn till Nathan Söderbloms insats (Stockholm, 1947); C. Howard Hopkins, John R. Mott 1865–1955: A Biography (Geneva, 1979), gives the background to an American Methodist very popular in Sweden. An excellent introduction in English to Anglican and Swedish intercommunion is Carl Henrik Lyttkens, The Growth of Swedish Anglican Intercommunion between 1833 and 1922 (Lund, 1970); S. E. Brodd, Evangelisk Katolicitet: ett studium av innehåll och funktion under 1800- och 1900-talen (Uppsala, 1982), links Moritz August von Bethmann-Hollweg with Söderblom and Friedrich Heiler et al.; Yngve Brilioth (1891–1959), Söderblom's secretary and aide, professor of practical theology in Lund (1928), bishop of Växjö (1937) and archbishop (1950), is known of course in Anglican circles as the author of The Anglican Revival: Studies in the Oxford Movement (London, 1925). The pacific German side, which never got very far: W. Huber and J. Schwerdtfeger (eds.), Kirche zwischen Kreig und Frieden: Studien zur Geschichte des deutschen Protestantismus (Stuttgart, 1976), includes Karl Holl, ‘Die deutsche Friedensbewegung im Wilhelminischen Reich’, and H. U. Wehler (ed.), Ludwig Quidde: der deutsche Pazifismus während des Weltkrieges 1914–1918 (Boppard, 1979); Friedrich Wilhelm Foerster and his circle, and Friedrich Siegmund-Schulze (1885–1969), who blended social work, pacifism, ecumenism, and the editorship of Die Eiche (1913–33), need

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modern appreciations; Martin Rade's contribution is discussed in W. Huber, Kirche und Öffentlichkeit; the Catholic contribution is treated by Beate Höfling, Katholische Friedensbewegung zwischen zwei Kriegen: Der Friedensbund deutscher Katholiken 1917–1933 (Waldkirch, 1979). The years 1914–18. The basic guides to 1914 and the course of the war are the late James Joll, The Origins of the First World War, 2nd edn. (London, 1993), and Fritz Fischer (the biographer of Moritz August von Bethmann-Hollweg), Griff nach der Weltmacht (Düsseldorf, 1961), English trans., Germany's Aims in the First World War (London, 1967), discussed by Joll in ‘The 1914 Debate Continues’, Past and Present (1966): here too, Fischer's critical ‘Der deutsche Protestantismus und die Politik im 19.Jahrhundert’, HZ 171 (1951), 473–518. The German Protestant churches at war was Martin Schian's commission for Der Deutsche Evangelische Kirchenauschuß: Die deutsche evangelische Kirche im Weltkriege (Berlin, 1921–5), 2 vols.: i. Die Arbeit der evangelischen Kirche im Felde, and ii. Die Arbeit der evangelischen Kirche in der Heimat. This is a remarkably objective guide for its troubled time; it contains indispensable bibliogs. on contemporary writing; Schian's Die evangelischen Kirchengemeinden in der Kriegszeit (Leipzig, 1918), is obviously written in the heat of the moment, but it has useful statistics and it is valuable as a document; in the context of German Protestant and Catholic churches, a study which looks forward in a comparative way to 1933 is Klaus Scholder's pioneering Die Kirchen und das Dritte Reich (Frankfurt am Main, 1977), i, English trans., The Churches and the Third Reich (London, 1987), i. A good short guide to ‘1914’ is ch. 3, ‘Evangelische Theologie und Kirche beim Ausbruch des ersten Weltkriegs’, in W. Huber, Kirche und Öffentlichkeit (Stuttgart, 1973); Klaus Schwabe, Wissenschaft und Kriegsmoral: Die deutschen Hochschullehrer und die politischen Grundfragen des Ersten Weltkrieges (Göttingen, 1969), is the standard work on this subject: Harnack's position in the war, Karl Hammer, ‘Adolf von Harnack und der Erste Weltkrieg’, Zeitschrift für evangelische Ethik, 16 (1972), 85–101; theology and preaching are covered by Karl Hammer, Deutsche Kriegstheologie 1870–1918 (Munich, 1971); G. Brakelmann, Protestantische Kriegstheologie im ersten Weltkrieg: Reinhold Seeberg als Theologe des deutschen Imperialismus (Bielefeld, 1974); Wilhelm Pressel, Die Kriegspredigt 1914–1918 in der evangelischen Kirche Deutschlands (Göttingen, 1967); and in English in the article by Alice G. Marquis, ‘Words as Weapons: Propaganda in Britain and Germany during the First World War’, Journal of Contemporary History, 58 (1978), 467–98. The literature of war experience: Klaus Vondung (ed.), Kriegserlebnis: Der Erste Weltkrieg in der literarischen Gestaltung und symbolischen Deutung der Nationen (Göttingen, 1980), can be compared with Albert Marrin, The Last Crusade: The Church of England in the First World War (Durham, NC.,

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1974); Alan Wilkinson, The Church of England and the First World War (London, 1978); Paul Fussell, The Great War and Modern Memory (London, 1975); and Eric J. Leed, No Man's Land: Combat and Identity in World War I (Cambridge, 1979). iii. Zusammenbruch (Collapse). A fine study looking back to the world beyond 1914, is Gottfried Mehnert, Evangelische Kirche und Politik 1917–1919: Die politischen Strömungen im deutschen Protestantismus von der Julikrise 1917 bis zum Herbst 1919 (Düsseldorf, 1959); G. Brakelmann, Der deutsche Protestantismus im Epochenjahr 1917 (Witten, 1974); excellent on 1917 Protestant literature, G. Maron, ‘Luther 1917’ cited at n. 77; ‘bells’, C. Mahrenholz and F. Severin, Das Schicksal der deutschen Kirchenglocken (Hanover, 1951); Troeltsch's observations on collapse can be read in his Spektator-Briefe: Aufsätze über die deutsche Revolution und die Weltpolitik 1918–1922, ed. Hans Baron (Tübingen, 1924; repr. Aalen, 1964); the Lutheran church in the Baltic states and the flux it experienced in the war years is virgin soil—a background is given by J. Hiden and P. Salmon, The Baltic Nations and Europe: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in the Twentieth Century (London, 1991), and in Graham Smith (ed.), The Self-Determination of the Baltic States; Huber, Verfassungsgeschichte, v, gives the constitutional problems posed by the revolutionary period in the autumn and winter of 1918. The rediscovery of Luther is treated in the excellent survey with documents, Heinrich Bornkamm, Luther im Spiegel der deutschen Geistesgeshichte (Heidelberg, 1955); Karl Holl and Luther: Holl, Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kirchengeshichte (Tübingen, 1927–8), 3 vols.: i includes Luther, iii his lengthy essay (Tübingen, 1917), ‘Die Bedeutung der großen Kriege für das religiöse und kirchliche Leben innerhalb des deutschen Protestantismus’ (pp. 302–84) which takes the Thirty Years' War and 1813 as examples; Hjalmar Holmquist, amongst his copious writings on the Reformation period, wrote Den lutherska reformationens historia (1915; 2nd edn. 1919); his article ‘Schweden’ in RE, and an excellent short essay on the Swedish church, ‘Kirche und Staat im evangelischen Schweden’, in Otto Scheel (ed.), Festgabe von Fachgenossen und Freunden Karl Müller zum siebzigsten Geburtstag dargebracht (Tübingen, 1922), 209–27, are still useful; Rudolf Otto's contribution is evaluated by E. Benz, ‘Rudolf Otto in seiner Bedeutung für Erforschung der Kirchengeschichte’, ZKG (1937), 375–98, and R. F. Davidson, Rudolf Otto's Interpretation of Religion (Princeton, NJ, 1947); Heiler, see Ernst Dammann in NDB, and Brodd, Evangelisk Katolicitet. And what of the women in this story—the wives who bore large families, ran the vicarages, served parishioners, kept parish and senior clergy on their feet? That must be a subject for the next century.

Index Abel, Karl von 351, 449–50 Abendmusiken in Lübeck 182–3, 559 Abrahamsen, E. 634 Achelis, Ernst Christian 549–50 Achenwall, Gottfried 227, 234 Adam, J. 624 Adams, Thomas 126 Adler, Jaçob Georg Christian 284, 291–2, 341, 346 Adolf Fredrik, king of Sweden (1751–71) 275 Affektenlehre, 40, 168; musical 184–5 Afzelius, Arvid August 421 Ahrén, P. O. 657 Aland, K. 631 Alexander I, czar of Russia 220, 251, 382, 425–6 Alexander III, czar of Russia 485 Alexander VIII, pope 76 Allestree, Richard 126 Allgemeines Landrecht (Prussian Code, 1794) 60, 309–15, 322, 346, 348, 446, 645;; cantors and organists 295–6, 559 Almqvist, Carl Jonas Love 474 Almuen 371–2 Altenstein, Karl von 220, 340, 347–8, 445 Althaus, P. 618 Ambrose, St 26 Ammon, Christoph Friedrich von 343, 444 Andersen, Hans Christian 369 Andersen, J. O. 620 Anderson, M. 637 Andræ, Carl 471 Andrewes, Lancelot 22 Aner, K. 296 n., 639, 642, 645–6 Anjou, Lars Anton 474–5, 477 Anna Amalia, sister of Frederick the Great 431 Anne, queen of England 124 Anselm, St 28 anti-semitism 522–3, 536–7; see also Judaic emancipation Anton, Paul 26 Anton Ulrich, duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel 121 Apocrypha 151, 356, 373, 465 Aquinas, St Thomas 441, 571 Arndt, Ernst Moritz 591 Arndt, Johann 25–7, 29–31, 35, 87, 133, 144, 151, 192, 260, 276, 365–7, 370 Arner, A. 650 Arnim, Achim von 420–1 Arnold, Gottfried 95, 102–4, 136, 150, 173, 179, 273 n., 579 Arnold, Matthew 419n.

Arnoldt, Daniel Heinrich 160–1, 632–3 Arnswaldt, August von 453 Arper (Karl) and Zillessen (Alfred) rite (1914) 598 Arro, E. 658 Askmark, R. 627 Augusti, Johann Christian Wilhelm 231, 234, 340 Augustine, St 7, 26, 297, 366, 451 Aulén, Gustav 586 Aust, O. 643–4 awakened nobility; Danish 155–6;; German 131–3, 189, 240, 394–5;; Livonian 163, 251–5 Axelson, G. E. 621 Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel 421, 431 Bach, Johann Sebastian 28, 129, 170, 174, 178, 182–6, 209–10, 260, 294–5, 343, 391, 421, 428–33, 541, 558, 560–3, 597–598, 611 Bachmann, Johann Friedrich 391, 646 Bacon, Francis 38 Badstübner-Cröger, S. 631 Båld, Anders 196, 276 Bælter, Sven 196, 231, 275–7, 633 Bähr, Georg 172–9, 433, 437–8, 548, 566–7 Bagger, Hans 36, 123, 128, 171 Bahrdt, Carl Friedrich 352 Baird, Robert 473 Balle, Nikolai Edinger 265–6, 290–1, 300, 358; his catechism (1791) 230, 282, 369 Balthasar, Augustin 307

670

INDEX

Balthasar Gracian y Morales 92 Balthasar, Jakob Heinrich 151, 307 Bang, G. 621 Banks, Joseph 282 Barrow, Isaac 126 Barth, A. 634 Barth, Christian Gottlob 385 Barth, Karl 663 Barthold, F.W. 629–30 Bartning, Otto 567 Basedow, Johannes Bernhard 405 Bastholm, Christian 288–92, 302–4, 341 Bauer, Johannes 535 Baumgarten, Hermann 544 Baumgarten, Otto 544, 578 Baumgarten, Sigmund Jakob 273 n. Baur, Ferdinand Christian 387, 440, 462, 541 Baxter, Richard 126, 128, 196, 273 n Bayer, Gottlieb Siegfried 144 Bayly, Lewis 34, 37–8, 40 Bebel, August 528 Bebel, Balthasar 135 Beck, H. 618, 638 Beck, Vilhelm 532–6 Beckman, Anders Fredrik 474–5 Beckman, Nicol 89 n. Beethoven 200, 591, 611 n. Bekenntnisschriften 625 Below, Gustav von 390 Below, Heinrich von 394–5 Benedict XIV, pope 541–2 Benedict XV, pope 605 Bengel, Johann Albrecht 192–4, 201, 239, 373 Benthe(i)m, Heinrich Ludolf 122–3, 130, 625–6 Benzelius, Eric (junior) 125 Berger, R. 624 Bergius, Nicolaus 125, 127 Bergmann, Gustav von 256–7 Bernard, Edward 123–4 Bernard, St 7–8, 26, 28, 366, 392, 542 Besier, G. 656 Bethmann-Hollweg, Moritz August von 389–91, 466–7 Bethmann-Hollweg, Theobald von 603–4 Beveridge, William 126, 200 Beyreuther, E. 640 Bible printing 32, 39, 146, 153–4, 162, 164, 364, 367, 375, 378, 384–5, 413 Bibliotheca 169–70, 285 Bienert, W. 626 Bierre, Niels 534n. Billing, Einar 586–7; Gerda 586n. Billing, Gottfrid 574, 582, 586, 589

Bingham, Joseph 234 Bismarck, Otto von 456–60, 487, 523, 527, 529–30, 537, 541, 551, 590, 606, 656 Björnson, Björnstjerne 520 Blackall, E. A. 635 Blackburne, Francis 308n. Blassneck, M. 619–20 Blech, Wilhelm Philipp 398–399 Bleichröder, Gerson 537 Blicher, Niels 224, 228–30, 266, 639 Blicher, Steen Steensen 228 Blume, F. 613 Blumhardt, Christian 383–5 Blumhardt, Johann Christoph 385 Bodelschwingh, Friedrich von 530 Bodin, Jean 79 Boehmer, Heinrich 609 Bogatzky, Karl Heinrich von 189 Böhmer, Georg Ludwig 97, 306–8 Böhmer, Justus Henning 20, 83–4, 96–7, 136, 170, 268, 306 Boiserée brothers 434, 436; Sulpiz 439 Bokelmann, Christian Julius 169–70 Bolton, Robert 126 Bonkhoff, B. H. 646 Boos, Martin 366, 384, 390 Borgia, Stefan 284 Borgmann, K. 624 Bornemann, Henrik 161 Bork, H. 650 Borowski, Ludwig 287, 289, 337, 397–9, 643 Borregaard, S. 633 Borromeo, St Charles 410 Bortnianski, Dimitri 426 Bossuet, Jacques Bénigne 200 n., 256 Boström, Ebba 538 Boumann, Johann 180 Bowles, Oliver 273 n. Brahe, Count Erik 197 Brahms 560 n., 562 Brand, Johann-Arnholds von 45, 622 Brandes, Georg 522 Braunfels, Wolfgang 68 n. Brenneysen, Enno Rudolf 92–5 Brentano, Clemens 420–1 Brilioth, Yngve 613, 617, 646, 666

INDEX

Bring, Ebbe Gustav 477–8 Bring, Johann Christopher 538, 540 Brochmand, Hans Enevoldsen 126 Brochmand, Jesper 112 Broman, Olof 44, 152 Bröms, Ingemund 127 Brorson, Hans Adolph 111, 157, 200, 205, 210 Bruch, Max 562 Bruck, R. 331n. Bruiningk, Karl Axel Christer von 254–5 Brunnemann, Johann 87 Buchanan, George 79 Buddenbrock, G.J. 617 Buddeus, Johann Franz 104, 159–60, 192, 205, 269, 272, 301 Bunsen, Christian Karl Josias 412, 419n., 426, 428, 436–7, 465, 473, 513 Bunyan, John 159, 196 Bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (1900) 579, 583 Burk, Johann Christian Friedrich 386 Burnet, Gilbert 126, 128, 273n. Burney, Charles 178, 295–6, 634 Busch, E. H. 499–500, 659 Busch, Friedrich 380 Büsching, Anton Friedrich 227, 233–4, 309, 640 Butler, Joseph 277–8 Butsch, J. A. 376 Buxtehude, Dietrich 182–3 Bygdén and Lewenhaupt 617 Calixtus, Georg 111, 270 Calvör, Caspar 168–9 Campenhausen, Balthasar von (d. 1803) 251 Campenhausen, Balthasar von (d. 1823) 251 Campenhausen, Johann Balthasar von (d. 1758) 251, 254 Canisius, Peter 25 Canossa 457 Canstein, Carl Hildebrand von 32, 154 Canton, W. 647 Carlblom, Gustav 86 Carlsson, Sten 116, 628 Carlsson and Rosén 614 Carlyle, Thomas 419n. Carman, Annika 49 Carmer, Johann von 309, 311–12, 314 Caroline Amalie, queen of Denmark 417 Carpzov, Benedikt (d. 1624) 86–7 Carpzov, Benedikt (d. 1666) 87 Carpzov, Johann Benedikt (d. 1699) 39 Carpzov, Samuel Benedikt (d. 1707) 93 Casaubon, Isaac 38, 39n. Castell, Edmund 27 Catel, Louis 435 Catherine the Great 165

671

Cave, William 135–6 Cederhielm, Josias 159 Chadwick, O. 638 Chalmers, Thomas 411, 418, 473, 524, 534 Chamoi list 65; see also Ryswick clause Charles, duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel 268–9 Charles I, king of England 295 Charles XI, king of Sweden–Finland 14, 31, 43–4, 49, 55–7, 78, 81–2, 86, 117 Charles XII, king of Sweden–Finland 13–14, 76–8, 80–1, 109, 117, 158, 181, 590 Charles XIV, king of Sweden 417 Charles XV, king of Sweden 479 Charles, king of Württemberg 493 Charles Leopold, duke of Mecklenburg–Schwerin 147 Chillingworth, William 308n. Chodowiecki, Daniel 218 Christensen, Jens Christian 580–1 Christian V, king of Denmark–Norway 78 Christian VI, king of Denmark–Norway 91, 133, 154, 241, 263, 301 Christian VII, king of Denmark 249, 283–4, 292 Christian social action 402ff., 523, 530–2, 534–5, 536–40, 544–7 Christian youth fellowship 535–6, 585–7 Christina, queen of Sweden 81, 611 church towns in Sweden 57n., 624 church year 47, 165–6, 217 Clarke, Edward 299, 402n. Claudius, Johannes 414 Claudius, Matthias 113–14, 392, 414, 465 Clausen, Henrik Nicolai 359, 361–2, 371, 468–9 Clement XI, pope 55, 76–7 clergy family genealogies (Presbyteriologien) 113–14, 628, see also Herdaminnen Cocceji, Samuel von 307 Coccejus, Johannes 130 Cochlovius, J. 654 collegialism 83–4, 90–1, 96–8, 267, 270,

672

INDEX

301, 460, 579 Collenbusch, Samuel 394 comets 43–4 confessionalism 14, 220–1, 439–42, 482–4, 553, 564 Conrad, Johann 514, 516–17, 620 Conrad, Paul 608 Conrads, N. 624 Constantine the Great 93, 149 Convention of Altranstädt (1707) 76–7 conversions of free-thinkers: Struensee 223; Dyhern 272 Cook, James 263 Cooper, Anthony Ashley, third earl of Shaftesbury 277–8 coronation ceremonial 78–83 Corpus catholicorum and Corpus evangelicorum 74 Cox, Frances 188 Crichton, Wilhelm 287, 289 Crüger, Johannes 207, 423 Cubach, Michael 31–3 Cunz, F. A. 207n. Curtius, Friedrich 592 Cyprian, Ernst Salomo 102; 104n.; Allgemeine Anmerckungen über Gottfried; Arnolds Kirchen- und Ketzer-Historie Cyprian, St 26 Cyril, St 94 D'Albert, Eugéne 563 Danske Lov (1683) and Danish Lex Regia (1665) 78–80, 625 Danish Heath Society (1866) 41 Darnmann, Johann Martin 203 David, Christian 252 Davidson, Randall 587–8, 605n. Davis, G. N. 635 De Geer, baron Louis 471, 479–80 De stærke Jyder 369 De Thurah, Laurids 283 Delitzsch, Friedrich 588 Demelius, Christian 208 Dent, Arthur 34, 159 Derham, William 151–2 Descartes 108, 111–12, 145 Devrient, Eduard 431–2, 652 Deyling, Salomon 129, 190, 233, 273n., 274 Dibelius, Franz 590 Dibelius, Otto 551n. Dieskau, Carl Heinrich von 185–6 dioceses 42; in Sweden 11–12, 232, and reform (1904, 1913–14) 540 Dippel, Johann Conrad 159 dissertations, 92n., 106–7, 183n., 223 Diterich, Johann Samuel 287 Doehring, Bruno 590 Dohna and Dönhoff families 161, 396 Döllinger, Ignaz von 449–50, 457, 467, 541–2

Döring, Karl August 393 Drescher, H. G. 663 Drews, Paul Gottfried 549–51, 638 Droste zu Vischering, Clemens August 393, 410, 457 Droste zu Vischering, Kaspar 393 Drey, Johann Sebastian 449 Dreyfus case 570 Dryander, Ernst von 590, 593 Düben family of musicians 181–2 Dumrese and Schilling 619 Dunin, Martin von 399, 457 Durel, John 129 Durer, Albrecht 598 Dyke, Daniel 25 Eaton, J. W. 635 Ebel, Johannes Wilhelm 397–8 Eckardt, Julius 483, 639, 658 ecumenism 587–89, 605; see also Evangelical Catholicity Edelmann, Johann Christoph 272 Egede, Hans (in Greenland) 143, 282, 632 Ehrhard, Albert 571, 592 Eichendorff, Joseph von 434–5 Eichhorn, Johann Albrecht Friedrich 464 Eichhorn, Karl Friedrich 323, 357 Eklund, Johan Alfred 540, 585–6 Ekman, Johan August 568, 588 Elgar 563 Elizabeth, czarina of Russia 251–2, 275–6 Elle Jensen, F. 630 Engelhardt, Johann Georg Veit 450–1 Engelhardt, Moritz von 483 Engelhardt, R von. 658 Engels, Friedrich 418, 532 Engelschall, Karl Gottfried 202 Engelstoft, Christian 285, 644 Enlightenment defined 266–7 Erasmus 93, 584 Erbauung 34–40, 120, 168 Erbe, H. W. 630 Erdmann Heinrich, Count Henckel,

INDEX

Freiherr von Donnersmarck 132 Erdmann II Promnitz, count 132 Erlangen neo-Lutheran school 449–52; influence on Dorpat, Lund, Leipzig 451 Ernesti 517, 660 Ernesti, Johann August 282 Erzberger, Matthias 604 essential and inessential Christianity 19–20, 93–4, 121, 128–9, 149, 168, 170, 173–4, 180–1, 194, 198, 244, 277–80, 286–7, 292, 482, 566–8 Estonia Christiana 253, 613 Evangelical Catholicity 390, 417, 464, 584–5, 589, 666 Evangelisch defined 9–10, 497 Evangelisch-Soziale Kongress 544–7 Evans, R. J. W. 627 Ewald, Enevold 205 Eylert, Rulemann 340, 426 Fabricius, K. 625 Fagerberg, H. 654 Falk, Adalbert 348, 488 Falk, Johannes David 406–09 Fant, Mikael 196, 276 Fasch, Karl 430 Faxe, Wilhelm 341–2, 359 Febvre and Martin 619 Fell, John 82 Feller, Joachim 39 Feneberg, Joachim Michael 384 Fénelon 414 Feuerlein, Jacob Wilhelm 285; see also Bibliotheca Filmer, Robert 79 Fischer, F. 657, 667 Fischer, Jakob Benjamin 163–4, 251 Fischer, Johann 30–1, 52–4, 163–4 Fleischmann, M. 626 Flensburg, Wilhelm 477–8 Fliedner, Theodor 394, 410–13, 416, 418, 452, 652; Friederike 412 Foerster, E. 645, 666 Foerster, Friedrich Wilhelm 594n. folkekirke (Danish) 354, 362, 468–71, 580–1; folkkyrkan (Swedish) 584–6; see also Volkskirche Ford, F. L. 624 Forkel, Johann Niklaus 430–1, 634 Forselius, Bengt Johann 52–3 Foster, James 277–8 Franck, Salomon 185 Francke, August Hermann 20, 39, 93–4, 124, 158, 189, 201, 238, 240–1, 246, 273n. Franzén, F. M. (bishop of Härnösand) 374 Frederick, duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin 259 Frederick, duke of York 14

673

Frederick III, German emperor, and wife Auguste Victoria 565 Frederick III, king of Denmark–Norway 78, 102 Frederick IV, king of Denmark–Norway 78–9, 150, 154, 203 Frederick V, king of Denmark–Norway 205, 273, 283–4 Frederick VI, king of Denmark(–Norway), 219 Frederick VII, king of Denmark 479 Frederick I, king of Prussia 57–8, 66, 68, 76, 82–3 Frederick I, king of Sweden-Finland 102, 147 Frederick Augustus, elector of Saxony and king of Poland 13, 102 Frederick August II, king of Saxony 491 Frederick the Great 17, 62, 77, 83, 177, 217–8, 269, 283–4, 307–8, 312 Frederick William I, king of Prussia 83, 114, 154, 179–80, 190 Frederick William II, king of Prussia 287, 312 Frederick William III, king of Prussia 175, 219n., 225, 287–8, 295, 306, 313–14, 321–2, 336–48, 350–1, 388–96, 411, 425–7, 432, 435–38, 442, 445–7, 448, 577 Frederick William IV, king of Prussia 387–8, 413–19, 435–8, 466 Freinsheim, Johann 86 Freisen, J. 655 Fresenius, Johann Philipp 190–3, 197, 204, 239, 271–3, 276, 291, 642 Frey, Johannes 545n. Freylinghausen, Johann Anastasius 159, 164, 201, 207–10, 246 Frick, Johann Georg 382 Friderici, Johannes 168–9 Friedberg, Emil 456n. Friedenskirchen and Gnadenkirchen 62, 175–6, 338 Friedrich, Caspar David 435 Fries, Karl Henrik 586

674

INDEX

Friis Hansen, Julius 534, 539 Frimodt, Rudolf 534 Fritsch, K. E. O. 664 Fröreissen, Johann Leonhard 9 Fry, Elizabeth 410, 412, 417 Fuchs, C. J. 641 Fulbrook, M. 628 Fürttenbach, Joseph 173 Füssli, Johann Heinrich (Henry Fuseli) 261 Gad, C. 662 Gallitzin, princess Amalie 363 Gärtner, Friedrich von 434 Garve, H. 646 Gasparri, Pietro 604 Gastrell, Francis 277–8 Geck, M. 652 Geijer, Erik Gustaf 421, 450, 474–5, 651 Geismar, Eduard 610 n. Gellert, Christian Furchtegott 200, 282, 427 Generalkirkeinspektionskollegiet (1737–91), 156, 301 George I, king of England 67–8 George II, king of England 90 George V, king of Hanover 495, 558–9 Gerber, Christian Gottlob 128–9, 152–3, 166–7, 170, 176, 186, 274, 631 Gerber, Karl Friedrich von 491 Gerhard, Johann 28, 112 Gerhardt, M. 652 Gerhardt, Paul 430 Gerlach brothers; Leopold von 390;; Ludwig von 390, 448; Otto von 390, 404, 415, 418, 524 Gerlach, Philipp 180 Gersdorff, Henriette von 238 Gersdorff, Wolf Caspar Abraham von 248–9 Gesenius, Justus 37–8, 207 Gesenius, Wilhelm 448 Geßler, Theodor von 493–4 Gezelius, Johann (junior) 127 Gibson, Edmund 127–8 Giese, F. 658–9 Glædemark, H. J. H. 645 Glaue, P. 638 Gluck, Christopher Willibald 421, 436 Gmelin, Samuel Gottlieb 144, 276 Goethe, 200, 223, 271, 283, 591 Göhre, Paul 546–7 Göransson, S. 626 Görcke, Moritz 395–6 Görres, Johann Joseph von 449–50 Goeze, Johann Melchior 308–9 Goldsmith, Oliver 228

Goltz, Theodor Freiherr von der 531 Gößler, Gustav von 488, 583 n. Goßner, Johannes 366, 384, 389–92, 403–4, 415 Gottsched, Johann Christoph 101, 104–5, 200, 203–4 Gouge, Thomas 196 Gradin, Anders 196, 276 Gradin, Arvid 196 Grael, Jakob 180 Graf, Anton 261 n. Graff, P. 617–18 Grammlich, Johann Andreas 192 Grane, L. 620, 627 Grashoff, E. W. 633 Graun, Carl Heinrich 247, 432 Grégoire, abbé Henri Baptiste 405 n. Gregor, Christian 247 Gregory of Nazianzus 136 Grell, August Ludwig 426, 429 Grosse, K. 618 Großgebauer, Theophil 112, 135 Grossmann, W. 623 Grotius, Hugo 85–6, 91, 93, 96, 136 Grubb, Nils 158 Grünberg, Paul 523, 525, 548–9, 592, 630–1, 661 Grundmann, G. 633 Grundtvig, Nikolaj Frederik Severin 192, 266, 304, 358–62, 365, 371–2, 430, 441, 469, 511, 532–3 Grüneisen, Karl 464–5, 468, 497, 555, 564 Guizot, 479 Guldberg, Ove Høegh 265 Gurlitt, Cornelius 177 n. 566 Gustavus III, king of Sweden–Finland 284, 292, 305–6, 345 Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden–Finland 110, 117 Gustavus Adolphus IV, king of Sweden-Finland 306, 335 Gustavus Adolphus associations 461 Gutsleff, Eberhard (senior) 163–4 Habermann, Johann (Avenarius) 27–8, 31, 33 Haeffner, Johann Christian Friedrich 421 Haenisch, Konrad 609

INDEX

Haffenreffer, Matthias 112 Hahn, August 445 Hahn, Johann Zacharias 298 Hahn and Reichel 641 Hall, Joseph 37–8, 85, 192 Hall, Thomas 126 Hallart family 251; Magdalene Elizabeth von 251–2 Hallbauer, Friedrich Andreas 203, 636 Halle institutes 141–2; Hallesian mission 54, 124, 142–6, 155, 163–5; Hallesian edition of Luther 73 Hamann 465 Hammar, Hans Birger 476 Handel 182, 294–5, 420–1, 424, 430, 560 Hansen, G. 519, 628 Harboe, Ludvig 150, 157 Hardeland, A. 631 Hardenberg, prince Karl August 328 Hardy, Nathaniel 126 Härle and Leipold 665 Harleß, Adolf von 383, 441, 447, 450–1, 477, 483, 494, 512–13, 556 Harms, Claus 327, 359, 442–4, 453, 474–5 Harms, Louis 430, 453–4, 550 Harnack, (Karl Gustav) Adolf 333, 482, 540–4, 549–50, 569–71, 575–9, 590–2, 603, 610, 665 Harnack, Theodosius 333, 451, 462–3, 481–4, 649, 658 Hartknoch, Johann Friedrich 259 Hartmann, Johann Ludwig 135, 273 n., 274 Hase, Conrad Wilhelm 564 n. Hase, Karl August von 462, 485 Hasselhorn, M. 628 Hauber, Eberhard David 205 Hauck, Albert 550, 609 Hauge, Hans Nielsen 304, 370, 378 Hauptmann, Moritz 560–1 Hausmann, R. 622 Hausrath, Adolf 513 Haustafel, Hustavla (Swedish) 73, 298; Lehr-Wehr-Nähr-Stand 94, 111, 621 Hedberg, Fredrik Gabriel 377 Hedegaard, Christian Ditlev 301–2 Hedinger, Johann Reinhard 192, 201 Heffter, Heinrich 460, 655 Hegel 432, 437, 448–9 Heidelberg Catechism (1563) 66–7; see also Ursleber, Paul Heiler, Friedrich 610 Heine, Heinrich 346, 432 Heinrich XXIII and Heinrich xxiv, see Reuß family Helander, D. 644 Helander, J. 620 Helle, Anton Thor 163–4

675

Hellekant, B. 619 Helveg-Larsen, P. 662 Hemmingsen, Niels 110, 112, 273 Henderson, Ebenezer 370 Hengstenberg, Wilhelm 340, 392, 398, 441–2, 447, 451 Henhöfer, Aloysius 364–5 Hennings, August 223, 264–5 Henrici, Christian Friedrich (‘Picander’) 186 Herbst, W. 628 Herdaminnen (Swedish) 116, 616, 660; see also clergy family genealogies Herder, Johann Gottfried 27, 155, 239–40, 257, 259, 262, 278–80, 283, 286–7, 294, 308, 379–80, 407, 420, 429, 441, 465, 544, 553–4, 643 Heresy Law in Germany (1910) 577–80; see also pulpit paragraph, religious censorship, and toleration Hermes, Justus Gottfried 389 Hermes, Ottomar 488 Herold, Max 556 n., 560 Herrmann, Emil 488, 490, 541, 575 Herrmann, Wilhelm 550, 592 Hersleb, Peder 154–5, 197 Herzogenberg, Heinrich Freiherr von 560, 562 Hessler, C. A. 645 Heussi, K. 642 Heyden, H. 624 Heydt, Johanna von der 391 high and low churchmanship 462, 474–8, 564–5 high and low language usage 51–4, 200–1, 205–6, 224, 240–1, 289–90, 360, 364–7, 463, 551 Hiller, Philipp Friedrich 193 Hitler, Adolf 460 Hoadly, Benjamin 128 Hobbes, Thomas 103 Hochstetter, Andreas Adam, and Johann Andreas 201 Hodermann, R. 626 Hofacker, Ludwig 365, 387 Hofbauer, Clemens Maria 363

676

INDEX

Høffding, Harald 585 Höfling, Johann Wilhelm 450, 475 Hoffmann, Adolf 609 Hoffmann family: Christoph 387; Gottlieb Wilhelm 386–7; Wilhelm 348, 387 Hofmann, Johannes von 383, 447, 450–2 Høgsbro, Sofus 511 Högström, Pehr 152 Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst, prince Chlodwig 457 Holberg, Ludvig 91, 94–5, 101, 106, 130, 150, 152, 154–5, 206, 230, 234, 274, 289, 531, 626, 633; see also collegialism Holdsworth, Richard 116 Holl, Karl 418, 556, 606, 610, 668 Holm, E. 614 Holmgren, J. 641 Holmquist, Hjalmar 610 Holmström, Olof 538 n., 650–1 Holtzmann, Heinrich Julius 570 Homilius, Gottfried August 424 Hooker, Richard 22, 39 Hope, N. M. 625, 632, 658 Hopf (Hope), Constantin(e) L. A. R. 492 n. Hopf, Heinrich 593–4; Magdalene 594 n. Hopkins, John 295 Hörschelmann, Emil 482 n. Horton, Thomas 126 Hoßbach, Theodor 575 Hubatsch, W. 624 Huber, Victor Aimé 418–9 Huber and Huber 637 Hübner, Johann 154 Hughes, M. 626 Humboldt, Wilhelm von 340 Hume, David 227, 277 Hupel, August Wilhelm 230, 615, 639 Husförhör (Swedish), Hausverhör 49, 119, 141, 153, 377, 621; literacy levels biblio. 636 Hutter, Leonhard 112 Hviid, Andreas Christian 284, 644 Hygom, Peder 157 Ignatius, St 136 Ihmels, Ludwig 590 illumination, Erleuchtung 104 Innocent XI, pope 76 Innocent XII, pope 76 Irenaus, St, bishop of Lyons 360–2 Itzig, Babette Salomon 431 Jablonski, Daniel Ernst 341 Jacobowsky, C. V. 631 Jänicke, Johannes 388–9, 404 Jannsen, Johannes Voldemar 559

Janson, Hector Fredrik 302–3 Jatho, Carl 542, 552, 555, 578 Jedin, H. 613, 615 Jens, W. 627 Jentzsch, R. 619 Jerome, St 26 Jerusalem, Johann Friedrich 298 Jeserich, K. G. A. 614 Jespersson, Niels 171 Jørgensen, E. 632 Johann, king of Saxony 491 Johann Georg, elector of Brandenburg (Samuel Reinhart, Gebetbuch, 1595) 7, 28 Johannson, K. H. 621 Johann Wilhelm, elector palatine 65–6 Joseph I, emperor 62, 76–7 Judaic emancipation 305, 319, 324, 481, 487, 609; see also antisemitism Jung, W. 643 Jung-Stilling, Johann Heinrich 405 Jus liturgicum 165, 284–5, 293–4, 336, 346–7, 553; see also toleration Justinian I, Roman emperor 93 Jutikkala, E. 5 n. Kähler, Ludwig August 397–8 Kahl, Wilhelm 579 Kahle, W. 658 Kaiser, G. 635 Kant 155, 287, 366, 397, 448, 591 Kapff, Sixtus 387, 530 Karl Alexander, duke of Württemberg 68 Karl Eugen, duke of Württemberg 193, 293 Karl Ludwig, elector palatine 64 Karl Philipp, elector palatine 64, 66–7 Karmann, Friedrich 398–9 Katz, J. 324 n. Kegel, Philipp 26, 33 Kelch, Christian 43–4, 617 Kempff, Wilhelm 611 Kempis, St Thomas à 7, 26, 144, 366, 414 Ken, Thomas 22 Kennicott, Benjamin 281 Kielland, Alexander 520

INDEX

Kierkegaard, Søren 371, 532–3, 535 Kingo, Thomas 167, 265, 369 Kingsley, Charles 536 Kirk, Hans 534 n. Kirnberger, Thomas Philipp 421, 431 Kittel, Johann Christian 343 Kliefoth, Theodor 454–5, 467, 474, 477–8, 558 Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb 283, 428 Knak, Gustav 395–6 Knapp, Albert 385–6 Knapp, Georg Friedrich 545 Kniebeugungsstreit (Bavarian, 1838–45) 449 Kniewel, Theodor 398–9 Knös, Anders Erik 474–5, 477, 657 Koch, Hans 539 Koch, L. 638 Koch Johann Jakob 382 Købke, Christen 299 Kögel, Rudolf 536–7, 544 Köhler, Johann 125–6, 144, 252 Kolmodin, Olof (senior) 197 Kolping, Adolf 415 König, Hermann Caspar 169–70, 252, 287 König, Johann Friedrich 112 Konservation system 113, 115, 260 Kornerup, B. 632 Kortholt, Christian 135, 273 n. Köstlin, Heinrich Adolf 559 Kottwitz, Hans Ernst Freiherr von 389, 398 Kotzebue, August Friedrich von 340, 433 Krabbe, Otto Karsten 454 Krabbe, W. R. 662 Krafft, Christian 384, 449 Krag, Peter 534, 539 Krakewitz, Albrecht Joachim von 147–8 Kramer, G. 631 Kraus, Franz Xaver 571 Krause, Johann Friedrich 298 Krause, R. 644 Kreittmayer, Wiguläus 307 Krieger, Johann Philipp 184 Krieger, L. 626 Kroll, Johann Leonhard 244 Krose, H. A. 503, 572, 659 Krüdener, Barbara Juliane von 397, 405 Krummacher, Gottfried Daniel, and Friedrich Wilhelm 393 Kruus, H. 649 Kuhnau, Johann 183–6, 209 Kulturkampf (1871–90) 390, 456–60, 484, 489, 492–3, 513, 516, 522–3, 527, 536–7, 542, 555, 572, 592–3, 605; ‘Culturstaat’ usage 522 Kultusdepartment (Württemberg, 1806) 322; Departementet for

677

Kirke- og Undervisningsvæsenet (Norway, 1818) 334; Ecklesiastikdepartementet (Sweden, 1840) 463 Kultusminister 220, 463, 487–8 Kupisch, K. 661 Kuusma Juhan 253 Kyrkolag (Swedish Church Law, 1686) 55, 81–2, 334, 574–5, 617; Uppsala convocation of clergy (1593) 11, 281, 334 Laing, Samuel 321 land reform 221–2, 239, 243, 248, 250, 252, 254–5, 258, 264–5, 354, 369, 376, 379–80, 517, 545–6; see also surnames Landeshoheit 74; see also Westphalian peace Landsberg, E. 625 Lang, Jacob 127 Langebek, Jacob 150, 206 Langen, A. 635 Larsen, J. 633 Lassalle, Ferdinand 531 Lassen(ius), Johannes 28, 138, 192 La Trobe, Johann Friedrich 482 n. latin usage 358 Laurelius, Olaus 112 Lavater, Johann Kaspar 261 Law for the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in the Russian Empire (1832) 15, 56, 220, 316, 332–3, 481, 484, 646; rite 343 Lechler, Gotthard Victor 465 n., 547, 609 Lehmann, H. 620, 630 Lehmann, M. (and H. Granier) 77 n., 625 Lehrstand 99, 103; see also Haustafel Leibniz 144 Leins, Christian von 564 Leiturgia 613 Lenæus, Sven Knut 230, 263 Lenin 606 Lenz, M. 640 Lenz, W. 628 Leo XIII, pope 571 Leopold, prince of Anhalt-Dessau 161 Lessing 202, 277; father, Johann Gottfried 202–3 Leube, Erich Hans 27, 620 Leupold, U. 644 Levin, H. 617

678

INDEX

Lewis, A.J. 247 n. Lichtenberg, Gerhard de 9 Lichtenberg, Karl 495 Liddon, H.P. 440, 654 Liedgren, E. 618, 638 Liermann, H. 625 Lightfoot, John 123 Liiv, O. 617 Likowski, Edward 593 Liliencron, Rochus von 559 n. Lillieblad, Gustaf Peringer 109 Lindahl, G. 664 Lindberg, G. 633 Lindberg, Jakob Christian 371–2 Lindblom, Jacob Axelsson 283, 293–4, 306, 335, 476 Linderholm, E. 621–2 Linders, Frans Josua 511, 660 Lindhardt, P. G. 638, 647 Lindl, Ignaz 384 Lindquist, D. 618 Lindroth, S. 627 Lindschöld, Erik 82, 86 Link, C. 654 Linné (Linnaeus), Carl von 27, 151–2, 160, 197, 230, 273, 275, 277 Lipsius, Justus 85–6, 136 List, Karl Benjamin 353; see also Rhine–Palatinate and Courland rites Liszt 563 Lithberg, N. 633 liturgy a teaching subject (1786) 285–6; see also Rhine–Palatinate and Courland rites Lloyd, William 126 Locke, John 93, 113, 305 Loewe, Karl 429, 431, 433 Löhe, Wilhelm 383, 452–3, 455, 467, 477, 531, 556, 558 Lohmann, Theodor 530 Lönegren, Ernst 540 Lönnrot, Elias 378 Lorenz, Siegmund Friedrich 405 Löscher, Jodokus 113 Löscher, Valentin Ernst 102, 113, 177 Louis XIV, king of France 64–5, 68–9, 268 Louise (Mecklenburg-Güstrow), queen of Denmark–Norway 155 Louvois 69 Lövgren, Nils 538–9 Lücke, Friedrich 415, 454 Ludewig, Johann Peter von 77, 83 Lüdke, Friedrich Germanus 308 Ludlow, John 536 Ludolf, Heinrich Wilhelm 123–5, 144, 160

Ludolf, Hiob 123–5, 144 Ludwig, A. 638 Ludwig I, king of Bavaria 351, 414, 449 Lumsden, James 473, 657 Luther: prayer 24, 39, 196, 250–1, 370; catechism and Haustafel 46, 49–50, 73, 224, 260; rite 17–18, 165–6, 181, 245, 341, 424, 427–8; homiletics 297–8; government 73, 75–6, 268, 347; theology and historical interpretation 40, 43, 111, 121, 366, 430, 442–4, 450, 541–3, 584, 586, 603–6, 609–10; see also confessionalism Lütkemann, Johann 28, 33 Lütkens, Frantz Julius 155, 160 Lützeler, H. 653 Lyra, Justus Wilhelm 425, 560 Lysius, Heinrich 160–1 Lytkkens, C.H. 666 Madsen, Christen 369–70 Madsen, Peder 535 Magen, F. 646 Magon, L. 635 Mahler 563 Mahrenholz, C. 633 Mai, H. 633 Malmeström, E. 632 Malthus, Thomas 299, 645 Mannsåker, D. 660 Manton, Thomas 126 Marburg Colloquy (1529) 443, 446 Marianne, (Hessen-Homburg) princess 391 Marienburg castle (and Cologne cathedral) restoration 396, 434–5, 438, 653 Marperger, Bernhard Walther 202 Martensen, Hans Lassen 371, 522–3, 531–2, 535–6, 661 Marx, Alfred Bernhard 431, 560 Marx, Karl 523, 532 Masius, Hector Gottfried 79, 106–7 Mattheson, Johann 182 Maurice, Frederick Denison 419 n., 536 Max, prince of Baden 607 Maximilian (I) Joseph, king of Bavaria 348 Mayer, Johann Friedrich 7, 28, 38–9, 135, 147 Mehnert, G. 668

INDEX

Meinhard, Livonian bishop 299 Melanchthon 111, 278–9, 543 Melchert, H. 641 Mencke, Johann Burkhard 9, 101, 104–5, 154, 200 Mendelssohn, Arnold 562 Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Felix 422–3, 426–7, 431–3, 558, 560 Merkle, Sebastian 571–2, 592 Messerschmidt, Daniel Gottlob 144 Meyer, Johann Matthias 494 Michaelis, Georg 605 Michaelis, Johann David 226, 282–4 Michaelis (Brillmacher), Peter 25, 27 Mickwitz, Christoph Friedrich 163–4, 202, 251 Middelboe, Stephan 299 Mill, John Stuart 479 Moberg, C. A. 634 Modernism, Catholic German 571–2 Moe, Carl Julius 533–4, 539 Moffat, W. B. 439 Möhler, Johann Adam 449–51 Molanus, Gerard Walter 270 Molesworth, Robert, viscount: Account of Denmark as it was in the Year 1692 (London, 1694) 80, 171 n. Molinos, Miguel de 140 Molland, E. 638 Möller, Jens 358 Moller, Martin 26 Moltke 590 Mommsen, Friedrich 495 Mommsen, W. J. 664 Monrad, Ditlev Gothardt 469–71 Montesquieu 278 Montgelas, Maximilian von 328, 336, 348–50 Mosaic Law (talion) 43, 120–1, 294, 296, 356, 645 Moser, Johann Jakob 60, 68, 96, 170, 193 Möser, Justus 226–7 Mosewius, Johann Theodor 432–3 Mosheim, Johann Lorenz 84, 88, 96–7, 101, 123, 127, 129, 191, 202–6, 227, 233, 268–72, 277–9 Mott, John 585 Mozart 436 Mühler, Heinrich von 487–8, 541 Müller, Heinrich 28, 50, 87, 112, 121 idols, 131, 133, 192, 370 Müller, J. 624 Müller, Johann Christian 259–60, 641 Münchhausen, Gerlach Adolph von 97 Münter, Balthasar 223, 272 Münter, Friederich 284, 303–4, 335, 356–8 Murbeck, Peter 250, 276 Murray, Gustaf 335 Mynster, Jakob Peter 354–5, 359, 369, 442, 532 Napoleon, 328–9, 363

679

Natorp, Bernhard Christian 423–4 Naue, Johann Friedrich 424–5, 427, 429, 431 Naumann, Friedrich 419, 546–7, 591 Nazarene school of painters 431, 436, 653 Neander, August 380, 389, 392, 398, 415, 448, 451, 454 Neiiendam, M. 630, 644 Neology 195, 197–8, 277, 334, 359, 373, 638, 642 Neumeister, Erdmann 184 Neumeyer, H. 624 Newman, E. 635, 647, 657 Newman, John Henry 325 Nicolai, Carl Otto 426 Nicolai, Friedrich 218, 235, 442, 639–40 Niebergall, Alfred 552 Niebergall, Friedrich 549, 551, 599 Niebuhr, Barthold Georg 77, 436 Niebuhr, Karsten 283 Niedner, J. 659 Nielsen, O. 621 Niemeyer, August Hermann 286, 321 Nightingale, Florence 412–13 Nitzsch, Karl Immanuel 324 Nohrberg, Anders 196, 373 Nordstrandh, O. H. 619 Normann, C. E. 625 Norrman, R. 660 Nottarp H. 623 Nottbeck and Neumann 617 oaths 12, 94, 107, 301–2, 308, 356, 489, 574–5 Oberlin, Johann Friedrich 404–6 Obst, H. 631 Ocksen, Johannes 155–6 Ödmann, Samuel 262–3, 283, 335–6, 357, 421, 641–2, 652 Oestreich, G. 626 Oetinger, Friedrich Christoph 193

680

INDEX

Oettingen, Alexander von 483, 545 Ohst, M. 647 Olavide, Pablo de 223 Oldenburg grand dukes August and Peter 486 Olearius family 28; Johann Gottfried 28; Johann Christoph 28–9 Olshausen, Hermann 340 Olsson, B. 618, 620 Origen 26, 136, 366 Osiander, Johann Adam 79Österlin, L. 642 Otto, Rudolf 403 n., 589, 610, 651 Otzen, Johannes 565, 567 Owen, Robert 411, 418 Pacelli, Eugenio 604 Palestrina 391, 407, 420, 426, 428, 561 Palmerston 469 Palmqvist, A. 645 Palmroot, Andreas 86 Pariset, G. 114, 624 Parität 55 ff., 320–1, 329, 463–5; in theology faculties 220, 329 parliamentary supremacy 466–72; 479–81, 523, 607–9 Parsons (Persons), Robert 36–8, 40; see also Olsson, B. Pascal 279 Paterson, John 356, 373, 375, 377–9, 647 Paul I, czar of Russia 251 Paulli, Holger 161 Paulus, Heinrich 324 pectoral theology 392; see also Neander Penn, William 125 Pestalozzi, Johann Heinrich 406–9, 423 Petersen, Johann Wilhelm 159 Petersson, Abraham 276 Petri, Ludwig 430, 453–4, 554 Petri, Olaus 172 Pfaff, Christoph Matthäus 20, 84, 97–8, 104, 115, 123, 129, 192, 194, 204, 267–70, 272 Pfarrzwang, Pfarrbann 60–1, 120, 243, 302, 310, 324, 401–2, 460–1, 470, 487, 525; see also stipends Philipp, W. 641 Philippi, Friedrich Adolf 451, 475, 481–3 Philipps, Georg 450 Pieper, P. 503–8, 659 Pierce, Thomas 126 Pietism coined in Feller's sonnet 39; collegia pietatis, 131, 133, 137; Pufendorf 90 Pietismus und Reveil 629 Pinkerton, Rev. Dr. J. 356 Pinson, K. S. 635 Pius VI, pope 284 Pius IX, pope 457 Pius X, pope 572

Pleijel, H. 621, 625, 630, 641, 648 Plith, S. 649 Ploug, Carl 469 Pococke, Edward 123 Podbielski, Christian Wilhelm 433 Pöldmäe, Rudolf 253 Pombal 279 Pontoppidan, Erik 36, 128–30, 148–52, 157, 161, 194–5, 197, 205–6, 234, 273–6, 282, 289, 369–71, 373, 616, 632, 642; his catechism (1737) 157, 195; Menoza (1742–3) 130, Swedish trans. (1771–3) 194 n. Pontoppidan-Thyssen, A. 641, 656 Porst, Johann 100, 163 Potter, John 125 Practical (or pastoral) Theology 326, 357–9, 443, 519–20, 543–4, 549–52 Pressel, W. 667 Preston, John 126 Prokopovic, Feofan 144 Protestant Church in official usage 318–19, 342, 350–1, 479, 486, 497; see also parliamentary supremacy Prussian introduction of clerical dress (1811), and bishops (1816, 1826–7) 321, 337, 342–3 Prussian Religious Edict (1788) 312–3; see also Wöllner, and Allgemeines Landrecht Puchta, Georg Friedrich 383 Pufendorf, Samuel 79, 82, 86, 87–91, 93, 96, 98, 112, 149–50, 160; his definition of ecclesia 90; see also collegialism ‘pulpit paragraph’ 492 Pusey, Edward 324–5, 425, 440, 447–8, 463, 610 Putter, Johann Stephan 76, 107 Puttkamer, Robert von 488 Quandt, Johann Jakob 161 Quarles, Francis 125 Quenstedt, Johann Andreas 112 Raabe, P. 631 Rade, Martin 544–5, 550, 591

INDEX

Raikes, Robert 379 Raisig, G. J. 642 Rambach, August Jacob 427–8, 431 Rambach, Johann Jakob 191, 197, 202, 204, 209, 240, 271, 276, 427 Ramm, H. J et al (eds.) 291 n. Rango, Konrad Tiburtius 147 Rapp, Johann Georg 382 Rathje, J. 664 Ratschow, C.H. 105 n., 627 Rauch, G von 626 Rautenberg, Johann Wilhelm 415 Ray, John 151–2 Recke-Volmerstein, Adalbert von der 408 refutation of religious opponents 12, 87, 106–7 Reger, Max 562–3 Regeringsform (Swedish) 75; (1809 constitution) 334–6, 574 Reichardt, Johann Friedrich 420–1, 424, 429 Reichert, D. 633 Reichsdeputationshauptschluss (1803) 218, 233, 318 Reimarus, Hermann Samuel 308 Reinbeck, Johann Gustav 100, 308, 645 Reincken, Johann Adam 182 Reinhard, Franz Volkmar 306, 443–4 Reinhardt, R. 654 Reitzenstein, Sigismund von 328 religious censorship 13, 80, 108–9, 223, 281–2, 286, 291–2, 301–2, 304–5, 312–14, 335, 355, 362, 370–1; see also heresy law, pulpit paragraph, and toleration Rennenkampf, Franz Wilhelm von 254 Renqvist, Henrik 377 Resen, Hans Poulsen 106 Reuss, Jeremias Friedrich 194–5, 205 Reuß family: counts Heinrich XXIII and Heinrich XXIV 132–3 Reuter, Fritz 331, 527 Reuterdahl, Henrik 476–9, 564, 657 Rhine-Palatinate or Heidelberg (1783) and Courland (1785) modern rites 286, 293, 352–3; see also List, and Werkmeister Ricard, Olfert 539 Ricci, Scipione de' 284 Richter, Aemilius Ludwig 347, 464, 467–8, 473–5, 573; his 1846 edn. of 16th-c. church orders 323, 485; see also Sehling Richter, Otto 561 Rieger, Georg Konrad and son Karl Heinrich 201 Rieker, K. 625, 656 Rietz, H. 639, 651 Rinck, Christian Heinrich 424 Ritschl, Albrecht 343, 512, 520, 540–3, 550, 556, 571, 585–6, 599, 629, 663; brothers Georg and Wilhelm 541 n.

681

Ritschl, Karl Benjamin (father of above) 343, 395, 429, 431, 540 Ritschl, O. 663 Röbbelen, I. 633 Roberts, M. 625 Rodhe, E. 618, 662 Rogall, Georg Friedrich 160, 209 Roman, Johan Helmich 182 Roon 590 Roos, Magnus Friedrich 373 Rørdam, H. F. 620 Rosenadler, Johan Upmarck 109 Rosenius, Karl Olof 373, 377, 472 Rosenqvist, V. T. 657 Rössler, E. 626 Rothe, Richard 513 Rouse, Ruth 585 n. Rouse and Neill 617 Rüdel, Hugo 611 Rudelbach, Andreas Gottlob 441, 450 Rumscheidt, M. 665 Runde, Justus Friedrich 486 Ruotsalainen, Pavo 373, 378 Rydberg, S. 631 Rydelius, Andreas 250 Ryswick clause (1697) 13, 65 Sabatier, Auguste 571, 586–7 Sachße and Tennstedt 650, 662 Sack, Friedrich Samuel 281, 288, 291, 313–15, 336–7, 389; son Karl Heinrich 282, 644 Sailer, Johann Michael 361–2, 364, 366, 384, 404 saints, cult 46–8, 148–9, 265–6; proprium sanctorum 43, 222 Saint-Simon 418 Salemann, Joachim 48, 53 Salu, H. 623 Sand, Karl 340 Sandewall, A. Konventikel … i Sverige 1809–1900 (Uppsala, 1961) 649 Sandhagen, Caspar Herrmann 203

682

INDEX

Sanftmut 93, 271, 310 Sartorius, Ernst Wilhelm 380, 451 Sarwey, Otto von 494 Savigny, Karl Friedrich von 322–3, 389, 440, 464 Saxon territorial loss to Prussia (1815) 218, 330–1, 338, 368, 443–4 Schade, Johann Caspar 137, 145 Schäfer, Rolf 540 Scharfe, M. 618, 649 Scharling, Henrik 587 Schartau, Henrik 275, 373–5, 377, 476–7, 585 Schaudinn, H. 622–3 Schaumann, Frans Ludvig 480 Schaumburg-Lippe, count Wilhelm 279 Schéele, K. H. Gez. v. (1838–1920) 587 Scheffer, Johannes Gerhard 86 Scheibel, Johann Gottfried 445–7 Schelble, Johann Nepomuk 432 Schell, Hermann 571 Schelling 358, 360, 449 Schertzer, Johann Adam 79 Scheurl, Christoph von 323 Schian, Martin 549–51, 636, 638, 667; autobiography 664 Schinkel, Karl Friedrich 432, 435–8 Schlatter, Adolf 576 Schlegel, Gottlieb 345 Schleiermacher, Friedrich 221, 235–6, 248, 266, 322, 359, 361, 389, 391–2, 403, 415, 431–2, 441–2, 444, 448–9, 465, 468, 474–5, 550, 589, 647; short course of theology 640 Schmaltz, K. 624 Schmid, Heinrich 105, 627 Schmidt, E. 634 Schmidt, Johann Georg 179 Schnabel, F. 638 Schneppen, H. 626 Schöberlein, Ludwig 558–9 Schoffler, H. 619 Scholder, K. 667 Schön, Theodor von 344, 397–8, 434–5 Schønheyder, Johan Christian 223 Schrempf, Christoph 555, 576 Schrems, T. 634 Schröck, Johann Matthias 233 Schröder, Herman 158 Schubert 598 Schubert, Friedrich Wilhelm von 81, 224–5, 231, 285, 336, 341–2, 356, 358, 372–3, 616 Schuck, H. 619 Schuler, Philipp Heinrich 636 Schulte, J. F von 87, 232, 625 Schumann 422–3, 652

Schupp, Johann Balthasar 38 Schütz, Heinrich 181, 428, 558, 560 n., 561–2 Schwartz, Joshua 88–9, 203 Schweitzer, Albert 433, 562–3, 569–71, 634 Scott, George 373, 472–3 Scott, Gilbert 438–9 Scriver, Christian 29, 33, 131, 144, 151, 196–8, 276, 365, 373 Secker, Thomas 281 Seeberg, Reinhold 576 Seelsorge and Fürsorge 121, 136, 221, 303, 401, 529–40, 544, 547–8; see also Luther, land reform Sehling, Emil 323 n., 573, 624–5; see also Richter A. L. Seiler, Georg Friedrich 292–3 Semler, Johann Salomo 273 n., 282 Semper, Gottfried 438, 548 Senfft-Pilsach, Ernst von 390 Seremetev, Boris 48 Serenius, Jacob 127–8 Seydlitz, Johann August 205 Shanahan, W. O. 650 Sharpe, E. J. 665 Sheehan, J. 637 Sibbes, Richard 126 Sieveking, Amalie 408, 414, 417 Sieveking, Karl 408, 415, 418 Silbermann, Gottfried 177–8, 601 Silberschlag, Johannes Esias 388 Sild, O. 632 Silvius, David 160 Sinold (von Schütz; pseud. Creutzberg), Philipp Balthasar 190, 197 Sjöberg, Gabriel 86 Skautrup, P. 612 Slevogt, Johann Philipp 168 smallpox vaccination by clergy 257 Smend, Julius 549, 554, 562–3, 570 Smith, Adam 223 n., 532 Smith, G. 546 n. socialism 179, 527–9, 531–2, 604–5; SPD Gotha and Erfurt programmes (1875, 1891) 527–8; Scandinavian variants 528 Söderblom, Nathan 543, 568, 571, 584–90,

INDEX

603–5, 609–11 Sohm, Rudolph 577, 579–80 Söhngen, O. 631 Soliday, G. L. 631 Sonntag, Karl Gottlob 379, 403 Sophie Christiane Brandenburg-Bayreuth-Kulmbach 133 Sørensen, S. 636 Spangenberg, August Gottlieb 239, 243–4 Spalding, Johann Joachim 234, 261–2, 266, 276–81, 286–8, 297–8, 308, 313, 357, 388–9, 541; Nutzbarkeit (1772) 277; biography 642–3 Sparwenfeld, Johann Gabriel 124–5 Spegel, Haquin 22, 33, 36, 37–8, 49–52, 81–2, 126–7, 153 Spener, Philipp Jakob 20, 37, 39, 50, 90, 95, 122, 144, 158, 189, 201, 235, 240–1, 273 n., 388, 523, 548 n.; Theologische Bedenken 631 Spitta family; Philipp (senior) 429–30; (Julius Auguste) Philipp 429, 560–2, 634; Friedrich 561–3, 570 Spittler, Christian 383–5 Sponsel, J. L. 634 Stackelberg, Karl Otto von, and family 254 Stahl, Friedrich Julius 383–4, 464, 468, 530, 542 Stahl, Heinrich 52 Stählin, Adolf von 494 Stählin, H. 624 Stählin, Wilhelm 512n., 570 Stammler, W. 628 Starck, Carl Ernst Rinck Freiherr von 486 Starck, Johann Friedrich 190–1, 367 Stations of the Cross 8–9, 24, 46 Stäudlin, Karl Friedrich 233–4, 615 Stavenhagen, K. 641 Steffani, Agostino 56 n. Steffens, Henrik 360 Stein, Harald 535 Stein, Heinrich vom 328, 336, 339, 363 Stein, Lorenz vom 418 Steinkopf, Carl 383–5 Steinmetz, Johann Adam 189–90 Stern brothers, Hans and Heinrich 30 Sterne, Laurence 218 Sternhold, Thomas 295 Steuchius, Matthias 81 Steudel, Friedrich 555, 576n. Stiehl, Anton 489 Stillingfleet, Edward 126, 202 Stintzing, R. 625 stipends (tithe) 45, 60–1, 95–8, 113–19, 147–8, 256–9, 268–9, 278, 303, 314–15, 329–30, 338–9, 343–4, 349–50, 359, 470, 484, 490–1, 493–4, 511, 514–18, 549, 580–4, 602, 658–9, 666; church tax 486, 493–4, 580–4; see also Pfarrzwang

683

Stolberg-Wernigerode, Christian Ernst 130–1 Stoecker, Adolf 522, 535, 536–7, 544–5, 551 Stolzenburg, A. F. 627 Storr, Johann Christian 193 Strahlenberg: see Tabbert Strandiger, Otto Lorentzen 161 Strauss, David Friedrich 376n. 387, 440, 576 Strauss, Gerhard Friedrich Abraham 391, 427 Strauss, Richard 563 Stroup, J. 626 Strube, David 307 Struensee, Johann Friedrich 223, 283, 304 Stryk, Samuel 77, 85–7, 91–2, 173 Stubbs, William 97 n. Stüler 419n., 437 Sturm, Beata 193 Sturm, Leonhard Christoph 173–4, 179, 435 Suits, Gustav 253 Sulze, Emil 534, 538n., 547–9, 566, 661 Sundberg, Anton Niklas 477–8, 538, 564 Sundelin, K. 642 Sundkler, B. 665 Suohlahti, Gunnar 116–17, 628 surnames 222, 640; see also land reform surveys of Lutheran churches 227–37, 550–1 Süßmilch, Johann Peter 234 Svarez, Carl 309, 311–12, 314 Svebilius, Olof 80–1, 373 Svedberg, Jesper 7, 33, 36, 38, 43, 49–51, 127, 133; autobiography 620 Swedenborg, Emanuel 7 Swedish clergy privileges 81, 116, 258, 262, 285, 402 Swedish prisoners of war in Siberia (1709–21) 143–4, 158–9, 196; see also Hallesian mission, Tabbert (Strahlenberg), and Wreech Sydow, Adolf 575

684

INDEX

Tabbert (Strahlenberg) Philipp Johann 143–4, 632 Tallima Papp 253 Teller, Wilhelm Abraham 234, 288, 297 Tengström, Jacob (1755–1832) 377 Tenison, Thomas 125 Ternström, Johan 476 Terry, C. S. 634 Tersteegen, Gerhard 394 Tertullian 26 Thadden family 331; Adolf von 390, 395 Theodosius II, Roman emperor 93–4 Thestrup, Frands 155 Tholuck, Friedrich August Gottreu (1799–1877) 105, 324–5, 340, 359, 366, 368, 380, 389–90, 392, 398, 404, 425, 447–9, 454, 463, 541, 627 Thomander, Johan Henrik 359, 375, 473–6 Thomasius, Christian 20, 39, 77, 79, 85–6, 92–6, 101–4, 106, 136, 160, 173, 227, 241–2, 268, 301, 578, 610 Thomasius, Gottfried 440–1, 654 Tiesmeyer, L. 650 Tillotson, John 126, 200, 202, 204, 276 Tirpitz 606 Tisdorph, Mikkel Henriksen 126 Titius, Gerhard Gottlieb 95–6 Tittmann, Johann August Heinrich 444–5 Tocqueville, Alexis de 473, 479 Todt, Rudolf 537 Toiviainen, K. 654 toleration (Jus tolerandi) 17, 55 ff., 94, 139, 225, 302–15, 319, 330, 334–5, 349, 351–2, 479–81, 486; see also Jus liturgicum, Parítät, and Pfarrzwang Tollesson, Pehr 250, 373 Tolstadius, Erik 158, 276 Tolstoy 579 Tottie, Henry William 587–8, 623 Transehe-Roseneck, A. 545 n. Trap, J. P. 616 Traub, Gottfried 552, 578–9, 591, 605–6 Treuer, Peter 25 Troeltsch, Ernst 513, 521, 540, 543, 549, 592, 607, 610 Troil, Uno von (his Iceland voyage) 282–3, 293, 306 Tucher, Gottlieb 428, 558 Tunder, Franz 182–3 Türk, Daniel Gottlob 424, 429–31 Tzschirner, Heinrich Gottlob 343 Uechtritz, Rudolf von 489 Uhlhorn, Gerhard 495, 554 Ullman, Uddo Lechard 556–7, 564, 574, 589 Ulrike Eleonora, queen of Sweden-Finland 81, 102 universities 15–16, 84–6, 99–101, 122–30, 163, 218–20, 268, 270–1, 311, 355–6, 512–5, 518–19, 569–2

urban growth effect on pastoral care 133–5, 139–41, 176–7, 198, 205, 503 ff, 521 ff Ursinus, Benjamin 83 Ursleber, Paul 66 Ussing, Henrich 80, 227–8, 301, 511, 616 Ussing, Henry 535–6, 539 Uttendorfer, O. 640 Vækkelsernes Frembrud i Danmark 648 Valdemar II ‘the Victorious’, king of Denmark 149 Valentin, Veit 351 n. Veit, Johann and Philipp 431 Veit Dietrich 32 Venturi, F. 638 Vicari, Hermann 457 Vierling, Johann Gottfried 421 Vierorth, Albert Anton 251 Vilmar, August 455, 477, 496; brother Wilhelm 496 Vincent de Paul, St 532 Virchow, Rudolf 457 Virginius, Adrian 53–4 Voetius, Gisbert 87, 130 Voght, Caspar 400–1 Volkening, Johann Heinrich 394 Volkskirche 418, 462–3, 483–4; see also Folkekirke and parliamentary supremacy Vretblad, P. 634 Wackernagel, Philipp 428, 558 Walch, Christian Wilhelm 123, 282, 284 Walch, Johann Georg 13 n., 73, 104, 123 Walker, M. 624 Wallin, Johan Olof 421, 476 Wallquist, Olof 231 Walther, Johann Gottfried 170 Wandal, Hans 78, 81 Ward, W. R. 629 Waterhouse, G. 619

INDEX

Watson, Thomas 126 Weber, Max 544–6, 610 Weckmann, Matthias 182 Wegelin, Joshua 6, 24 Wegscheider, Julius August Ludwig 448 Wehler, H. U. 614 Weidling, Christian 200n. Weigel, Erhard 107 Weise, Christian 199 Welch, C. 638 Wendland, W. 624, 638, 643, 645–6, 650, 653 Werkmeister, Benedikt Maria Leonhard 293 Wermann, Oskar 561 Wesley, John 244, 640–1 Wessel, Ludwig 608 Westergaard, Harald 536 Westling, G. 623 Westphalian peace (1648) and Protestantism 9–10, 64, 74–5, 77, 87–8, 97–8, 122; see also Friedenskirchen and Gnadenkirchen, and Parität Westrén-Doll, A. 622 Wette, Wilhelm Martin Leberecht de 340 White, H. C. 619 Wichern, Johann Hinrich 389, 392, 399, 407, 409, 413–19, 452–3, 455, 461, 467, 521, 530–2, 535, 537, 547 Widor, Charles-Marie 563 Wiesel, Samuel 262 Wieselgren, G. 623 Wieselgren, Peter 358, 375 Wiesenhütter, A. 622, 633 Wiggers family: Gustav 236; Julius 236–7, 331, 455, 497, 640; Moritz 236 Wijkmark, H. 641–2 Wilberg, Andreas Martin 482n. Wilcken, Johann 5 Wilhelm I, king of Württemberg 386 Wilkins, John 125–6 William I, king of Prussia and first German emperor 487 William II, German emperor 523, 537, 544, 565–6, 575–6, 594, 603–4, 607–8 Wilskman, Sven 230–1 Winckler, Johann 137, 145 Winckler, Johann Friedrich 138 Windelband, Wilhelm 570 Winer, Johann Georg Benedikt 450–1 Winkler, R. 633 Winter, Eduard 144, 631 Winterfeld, Carl von 428, 433, 558, 560–1 Witte, L. 319, 646 Wittelsbach, prince Clemens August 11 Wittram, H. 654 Wittram, R. 613

685

Witzleben, Job von 425 Wolff, Abraham 160 Wolff, Christian 151–2 Wolfrum, Philipp 563 Wöllner, Johann Christoph von 281–2, 302, 312–14, 366; see also Prussian religious edict Wordsworth, John 588, 657 Worm, Christen 155 Wreech, Kurt Friedrich von 143, 631 Wren, Christopher 178 Würster, P. 638 Zahn-Harnack, Agnes 663 Zedler, Johann Heinrich, printer 174 (Halle and Leipzig, 1732–54), 64 vols Zedlitz, Karl Abraham von 108 Zeller, G. 497–503 Zeller brothers, Christian Heinrich and Karl August 408–9 Zelter, Carl Friedrich 429, 431, 435 Zettervall, Helgo 565 Zimbelstern 611 n. Zimmermann, Gottfried 156 Zinzendorf, count Nikolaus Ludwig von 39, 131, 164, 193, 406, 415, 542n. Zöllner, Johann Friedrich 261, 263, 288, 314–5, 388, 641 Zschokke, Johann Heinrich 366–7, 405, 546n. Zwirner, Ernst Friedrich 438