WHERE is the school for each and all,
Where men become as children small,
And little ones are great ?
Where love is all the task and rule,
The fee our all, and all at school
Small, poor, of low estate?
Where to unlearn all things I learn ;
From self and from all others turn,
One Master hear and see?
I learn and do one thing alone,
And wholly give myself to One
Who gives Himself to me.
My task, possessing naught, to give ;
No life to have, and yet to live—
And ever losing, gain ;
To follow, knowing not the way ;
If He shall call, to answer, "Yea—
All hail all shame and pain!"
Where silent in His Holy Place
I look enraptured on His Face
In glory undefiled ;
And know the Heaven of His kiss,
The doing nought, the simple bliss
Of being but a child.
Where find the school, to men unknown,
Where time and place are past and gone,
The hour is ever Now?
O soul, thou needest ask no more ;
God tells thee of His open door
Still—hearken thou.
—G. TERSTEEGEN.
As usual, they began this fresh chapter in their lives by a season of penance for the faults committed at Paris, at Cassel, and at Vevey.
For the first time Charles reproached himself for the fault of disobedience to his mother, and disregard of her wishes. He wrote her a deeply penitent letter, and promised that henceforth her will should be law to him, always supposing it did not interfere with his duty to God. This return to natural affection was followed by a return in some measure to natural good sense. The consciences of Charles and Clara no longer reproached them when they drank tea, coffee, or wine, and they ate meat daily at dinner. Charles also made the discovery that some regular and steady employment would be useful and profitable to him. He betook himself to a Swiss watchmaker, on a visit at Schwarzenau, whcm he describes as " an Israelite indeed, in whom there was no guile." He asked this man, whose name was Koch, to teach him watchmaking. He in return read aloud to Koch the books of Madame Guyon and of other Mystics.
Seven peaceful years followed, Meanwhile Clara's health suffered much from the bleak climate of Christianseck ; and in the year 1724, the death of Count Henry Albert was followed by bitter persecutions of the "awakened," Count Augustus having succeeded his brother, who left no son. The wanderings of Charles and Clara began afresh.
They passed some time in Switzerland, where the enthusiasm of their early friends had quite died out. Charles, notwithstanding his resolutions, did not find himself of one mind with his mother, and their travels ended by a return to Wittgenstein, Count Casimir of Berleburg having invited them to stay with him.
Count Casimir, though a humble, practical Christian, was not altogether the best friend for Charles de Marsay. " He was," writes Goebel, "above everything, a whole-hearted Christian, in the truest and best sense, a shining example for his own and after-times." We have a pleasant picture of him, always an invalid, but bright and cheerful, spending quiet hours morning and evening in prayer, and after his morning prayer, in private praying with his household. Each morning, at family prayers, one of the parents, elder children, or friends read aloud from the word of God, or sometimes read portions from Tauler, Arndt, Fenelon, Francke, or from Mrs. Leade's or Madame Guyon's books. From these books the Count copied out with his own hands notes for the Berleburger Bible.
From the year 1714 he kept a daily journal of his inner life, "showing," writes Goebel, "the deepest work of the Holy Ghost in his soul." But this journal also explains in what manner he may have rather hindered than helped Charles de Marsay. He carefully noted the smallest unfaithfulness to God in his family life, or in the management of his affairs, severely blaming himself for his sins of thought, word, and deed.
"I went with my dear mother and wife," he writes, " to spend some days at Schwarzenau. I found there many reminiscences of my pious ancestors, who served God in their day in thorough renunciation of the world, in chastisement of their flesh, and in seclusion and separation. And I saw the same thing in the huts and chambers of many of the inmates at the present time, whose hearts I will not judge, but rather believe in their sincerity, for God alone trieth the hearts and reins. It stirred me up to long for more zeal and earnestness in following Jesus, in renouncing the world, and crucifying my affections and lusts."
In the same way he reproached himself for his natural love of splendour and display, which ill-accorded, he said, with the recluse life of a strict and decided Christian. " Lord, give me courage," he wrote, "to overcome myself, and to give up boldly and gladly all that chains me to the earth or conforms me to the world. Let me do it in spite of all inconvenience, mockery, contempt, persecution, or suffering, casting away as dung and dross all that hinders me. Show me of what I should rid myself, either superfluous servants, or carriages, or horses, or plate, or books, music, weapons, equipages, pictures, carvings, furniture, or houses. Be the temptation and excuse ever so subtle, show me what I should discard through Thy gracious power granted to me."
He deeply reproached himself when, on the occasion of a shooting-party, a girl in the forest was shot by accident. "This blood is at my door," he wrote ; and never again would he join in sport of any kind.
He was a strict member of the Reformed Church, but allowed a Lutheran service to be held in the castle for the sake of his second wife, who was a Lutheran. He was present on one occasion when she was making her confession to the Lutheran pastor Struensee, who gave her absolution. Count Casimir looked on with a humble respect for the convictions of his wife, and wrote in his journal, "And though Herr Struensee did not pronounce over me the forgiveness of my sins, or lay his hands upon me, I feel sure that my dear Saviour laid His gracious hands upon my head, and forgave me all my sins."
All the household of the good Count was under strict rule—no gambling, or drinking, or desecration of the Lord's-day—and regular conferences of the Reformed preachers were held in the castle, to determine cases of Church discipline. Any sins committed in the neighbourhood lay heavily on the conscience of the Count, who reproached himself on these occasions for possible neglect of duty in the government of his territory.
On the occasion of a yearly fair he wrote, "O Thou loving and tender Lord Jesus, forgive the many sins which have been displeasing to Thee amongst this multitude gathered together, and lay them not to my charge. If I have failed in my office, either unconsciously or through negligence, blot Thou out my sin, and forgive me in Thy lovingkindness."
He was careful to fill every important post in his household with godly persons, whose faults and troublesome ways he would bear with the greatest gentleness, as long as it was possible ; but he allowed none to come between himself and his peasants, whose causes he always attended to in person.
It will be perceived, from this description, that Count Casimir, in the excess of his humility, would remain blind to the errors and delusions of the De Marsays. In all matters upon which they differed, he would rather reproach himself for being less spiritual and less devoted. He collected friends and neighbours to hear De Marsay preach and exhort, and in the lowliness of his mind he gladly esteemed his visitors as far better than himself.
To relate the various turns and windings in the course of the De Marsays after the year 1724 would be wearisome, especially as in their case history was continually repeating itself. De Marsay repented of his preaching and teaching, as being an " outside work." He returned again to his solitude, resolved to go to Pennsylvania, and bury himself in the forests, though his mother entirely refused her consent. Of this project he repented, however, before starting, although Clara assured him that if he gave it up she would go alone. She, however, was persuaded to remain, and at that moment Count Zinzendorf, who hoped to form the Pietists of Wittgenstein into a Moravian community, arrived on a visit to Count Casimir.
Count Zinzendorf's plans were entirely unsuccessful, but De Marsay attached himself warmly to this new teacher, whilst Clara took a great aversion to him. The tables, however, were soon turned. Clara became, after a short time, a wildly enthusiastic Moravian. Count Zinzendorf was her prophet and apostle, and she severely blamed her husband for his coldness and want of energy in carrying out the Count's plans. She felt herself awakened to be a prophetess of the Herrnhuth community. She spoke and taught incessantly, and resolved at last, when Count Zinzendorf had left, to follow him alone to Herrnhuth.
This journey was prevented by her serious illness, brought on by constant excitement. Charles prayed at her bedside that her eyes might be opened to her folly. And now they both confessed their sin in having allowed Zinzendorf to gain such power over their hearts and minds. Clara saw herself to be " the most detestable and polluted of all creatures, unworthy to be received into any Christian community." She said she had given to Zinzendorf a place in her heart which belonged only to the Lord Jesus. Her husband could scarcely prevent her from doing open penance for the sin with which she reproached herself.
They now both regarded Zinzendorf as a dangerous enemy to the gospel, as "the haughty Sennacherib who led Israel captive ; " and they were confirmed in this unfavourable judgment by a letter from the Count's own sister, a "pious woman," addressed to the Countess Sophie, in which Zinzendorf was described as Nebuchadnezzar, and as a forerunner of the antichrist.
As many in Wittgenstein were still warmly attached to Zinzendorf, many disputes arose between his friends and his opponents. De Marsay withdrew from all alike, and stood apart, reproaching himself, and considering himself unfit for spiritual work, or for fellowship with any other Christians.
At this moment the young Fleischbein, who had been recently converted, brought a watch from his sister, the Baroness Prüschenk, to be repaired by De Marsay. The baroness wished by this means to introduce her brother to De Marsay, for whom she had a great respect. The acquaintance thus begun, young Fleischbein became so deeply attached to De Marsay, that he proposed after awhile to leave his parents and take up his abode with him. De Marsay would not consent to this. The Fleischbein family therefore invited the De Marsays to form part of their household, and Charles was installed as "spiritual guide," whether he would or no, to the whole party.
He deeply felt his unfitness for such a post, for his own devious course was an evident proof to him that he needed a guide for himself. But he remembered how God had once used the jawbone of a dead ass in order to prove that the work which He carries on in the souls of His chosen people is His own work, and therefore good and true.
Encouraged by this thought, he cast himself on the Lord. And now it seemed to him that he was "like a man who had been led blindfold for many years on a very long journey through unknown lands, and having his eyes at last unbound, was lost in wonder to see all the ways by which he had been led, and all the long journeys which he had taken, not knowing the way he was going."
It seems to be at this time that Tersteegen, who Carrie to visit the Fleischbein family at their house at Hayn, first made the acquaintance of De Marsay. The Hayn household won the heart of Tersteegen. They were a simple, pious family, of whom it had been said, " The castles of the nobles were formerly called ravens' nests " (in the old days of the robber counts) "but Hayn appears to be a dove's nest."
" Some doves though have strange feathers," said Clara de Marsay when she heard this remark.
Clara was perhaps a trying inmate even to a dove ; but, with Charles de Marsay, Tersteegen said he felt much sympathy ; and as regards self-denial, inward prayer, and the following of Christ, he was of one mind with him. "But God," he said, "is leading this dear man, as time goes on, in ways by which he must be brought to the end of himself."
During the five years in which Charles de Marsay filled the post of spiritual guide at Hayn he did, no doubt, learn more of God ; and, perhaps guided by those whom he had undertaken to guide, he was led to look to God, rather than to his own laborious efforts, for the power to walk in holiness and righteouness.
At the end of these five years it seemed to him that the Fleischbein family also, would do well to depend more entirely upon God for guidance, and he returned with Clara to the hut at Schwarzenau. The Fleischbeins implored him to come back to them. He had scarcely done so when old Herr Fleischbein died, and shortly after Clara de Marsay, after a terribly painful illness of seven weeks. She bore her sufferings with wonderful patience and submission, knowing from the first there was no hope of relief but by death.
Charles forgot his own sorrow when he saw her at last released from pain. "I am glad the dear child is dead," he said. Week, a friend of Tersteegen's, says of Clara that "she was a dear, childlike soul, with much grace, and almost always carrying a heavy cross. During her last years at Hayn she passed through much spiritual suffering ; and in this darkness and desolation she gave herself up to God, only desiring to be conformed to the image of Christ." "She had a double nobility, of birth, and of mind," said another.
We may remember her as one who, with a sincere desire to please and serve God, consigned herself to constant gloom and sadness, by seeking in herself for that which was only to be found in Christ.
Charles returned alone to Schwarzenau, and lodged in the house of a pious widow named Pratorius. He felt alone, and very sorrowful, for the children of the old Pietists, who were taking the place of their parents, were very unlike them in their ways and thoughts, and the good old times seemed past and gone, as Clara was, and the beloved old Countess Hedwig Sophie, who died in 1738, and good Count Casimir, who had died in 1741.
Charles wished to find another home, but he lingered on, till one morning he found that the house of the widow Pratorius had been visited by burglars, and the property of the widow, as well as his own, had been carried off. That very day the brother of Frau Pratorius sent his carriage to fetch his sister and Charles ; for he had been taken suddenly ill, and was for a time in great danger.
After this visit Charles moved about from place to place with the widow, her daughter, and her sister, visiting sometimes the baths of Pyrmont. Six years passed by. Charles de Marsay was now growing old ; his long years of earnest toil, and of many works, and many bitter self-reproaches, had left him weary and sad, and all was dark to him ; for he had laboured in vain, and found himself now, in his old age, no further than when he first began his round of fruitless endeavours.
At this time he met at the baths of Pyrmont three Lutheran pastors, well known amongst the Pietists. These pastors held meetings, or conventicles, at which several of Charles' relations had been converted. Charles attached himself to these good men, and to their Pietist friends at Pyrmont. And for the first time, when talking with them, Christ shone forth into his heart, and his eyes were opened to see the face which had been hidden from him by the thick mist of his own righteousness and his own religion. He looked at Christ, as the dying Israelite to the serpent that was lifted up. He saw the blessed work done for him fully and completely—he saw himself accepted according to the value of that glorious Saviour, and that precious blood ; and perfect peace came at last to the heart which had so truly desired to follow Christ, but had so little known the Christ of God. All this while had Charles de Marsay walked in the way that was right in his own eyes, and had found it the way of darkness.
Where had Christ been in all those toilsome days and dreary penances ?
Where had Christ been in those long strivings after holiness and unbroken prayer ?
He saw that all had been the fitful religion of the natural mind, sometimes a trance of ecstasy, sometimes, more often, a wearisome plodding along a hard and winding road. And now he had ceased from his own works, and entered in thankful faith into the rest of God.
"For me," he said to his friend Koch, the watchmaker, "is henceforth but one retreat, the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the free favour won by Him for me, which I take thankfully, and am at peace. And now, according to the gospel teaching of our Church, the old beaten track, all my hope of salvation is in Jesus only, and through His precious work alone do I draw near to God, notwithstanding that all the more I find in myself nothing but sin and weakness, nothing in myself, but all in Christ."
In the year 1753 Frau Pratorius died ; and in 1755 Charles de Marsay, who was then living with one of his converted nephews, felt his end draw near. He sent for his friends, and told them that his last wish for them was, " that they should trust themselves in stillness and humbleness of heart, in living faith, to the eternal redemption and reconciliation wrought out by Jesus Christ, therein resting, enduring, and dying."
To his nephew, Major von Bottiger, he said, "I bathe myself in the depths of joy, knowing that I shall soon be in possession of that for which, through the grace of our Saviour, I have waited and longed."
Thus died Charles de Marsay, of whom it could be said in his last days, that he lived no longer, but Christ lived in him. His bitter self-denial, his marvelous earnestness, his voluntary humility, had landed him in darkness and despair. He had perhaps despised that which he called doctrine, in order to devote himself to practice. He found at last that the old doctrine, taught in the old words, was but the revelation of a marvelous fact, the fact that God Himself, become man in His infinite love, had borne the judgment of sin, and had opened heaven, not to the righteous, but to sinners, and had brought out from thence to them, the righteousness they could not bring to Him, and the life and power which should transform them even down here in their mortal bodies into saints set apart for God.
He had learnt that the only practice pleasing to God is to walk even as Jesus walked, and that it is only the life which is in Him that can thus act and move and speak in the members of His body. And that it is from the Rock, smitten by God, that this water of life flows into the dry and thirsty soul, who comes at last from the broken cisterns of human endeavour to the living fountain, full and fresh, flowing from "the great depths " of the heart of God. "He clave the rocks in the wilderness, and gave them to drink out of the great depths" of His unfathomable love. (Psalm 78:15, 1615He clave the rocks in the wilderness, and gave them drink as out of the great depths. 16He brought streams also out of the rock, and caused waters to run down like rivers. (Psalm 78:15‑16).)