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M'EMOIR

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OF

THE LATE

REVEREND G. WEIGLE.

MISSIONARY OF THE

GERMAN EVANGELICAL MISSION

A'L

MANGALORE.

MADRAS:

THE CHURCII OF SCOTLAND MISSION PRESS,

L. C. GRAVES, PRINTER.

1855

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“BIne

_——

ALMANDA, 1344 July, 1855.

My peAr Broruer,—When you requested me, a month ago, to

furnish you with some account of our departed brother Weigle’s life

But for some weeks

and labors, I at once resolved to obey your call.

I felt myself quite unequal to the task. Tears would have fast blotted

out my'ink ; and I trusted that you would not press me too much. . The

storm must be allowed to' blow over, before one can be expected to

give to others, be they the dearest and most s

ympathizing fl’ic?tlds,

an ‘account-of' the wreck of one’s fondest hopes.

But while T gird myself for the work, I see veon_siderable difficulties

in my way. I cannot bring myself to the resolution of writing about

our beloved Brother in the style merely of a mourning Missionary

colleague, which yet might be more appropriate, as, you wish to

publish my account. Moreover, if I speak out of the abundance of

my heart, I must say more of myself, than I wish to do, before an almost

public audience in, your Herald ; for my dear Brother and myself have

been so intimately united for fifteen years, working, thinking, feeling,

rejoicing, and sorrowing together, have been yoke-fellows so much

of one mind, heart, and soul, that I,cannot give a full account of

the departed without speaking of the living member of the missionary

partnership, now, alas ! dissolved, for a while, by death.

Though we

were 10 relatives, not even by Swabian law, which goes farther than

the Scotch, yet we loved to ‘call each otherhrothersinstead of brethren,

and the pain which shot through my soul, when Theard of my brother’s

death, has taught me what those pangs are, which are said to seize a

twin-child, that has to survive the death of his fellow.

May I propose therefore, to you, to have this sketch ‘,prin’fed only

for private circulation among our more intimate acquaintance, who will

no doubt bear with me, perhaps. prefer this unreserved narrative to a

more staid and distant performance, and to publish in the Herald,

only such extracts, as you may think suited for a more public com-

munication ?

" About sunrise on "l‘llu;'sdzlyvtlxe 7th June, deer Weiglehreafhéd

his last (in a room of the Balmattha Mission house at ‘Manga-

lore, in" which we had spent some’ of ' our’ happiest hours), to

the surprise of kind “Doetor Chinimo, who had attended him for

a few days, but "had considered his ailment to be an almost trifling

liver-complaint, and ‘to the unutterable ‘grief of his beloved partuer

2

and the brethren of the Mission, who had hastily been called together.

No one had entertained so much as anxiety about his illness, except

brother Kaundinya, who, on bidding him good night on Wednesday

evening, was seized with fears for his safety, because Weigle held his

hand for a while and fixed his eyes upon him with a look of tender and

mournful affection, as if he felt that he would see him no more on

carth. Weigle himself had on Wednesday spoken to his wife and to

his cousin, ‘brother Plebst, the Manager of the Press, like one prepar-

ing for a change.. To brother Plebst, he said, “ Dear Plebst, I fear you

must write to the Committee’ and report the stoppage of our: Bible

work. I shall mot: finish it.

Last night I had a dreadful fit of fever,

which turned my blood into ice, and warned me to -put my house in

order. T shall not, survive another fit.

Explain to the Committee,

how the printing of the book has been retarded, and assure them, that

no remissness on my part has caused the delay, but circumstances

which you well know and can best explain.” To his wife he said : *“ Dear

Pauline, I may be unable to speak just before I go. Let me therefore

now say. what is in my heart.

Know then, that T have loved you

unspeakably, and that I go out of this life a poor, very poor sinner,

indeed a very poor ‘sinner, for' I have trifled ‘away much grace. His

poor partner went away to weep and to compose

her mind in order to

appear calm in the presence of the patient ; for Dr. Chimmo had

advised her to do what she could to cheer her husband, who required

ouly to regain his spirits in order to shake off his indisposition,

DPear Weigle had on former occasions, when he was brought low by

Sickness, used the language of ome expecting shortly to ‘die, and

o ‘one mnow suspected that’his feelings were more than the effect

of a slight derangement of the liver.

At three o’clock in the morning, he started dxit of an apparently

sound sleep) and threw up seme water.

His wife awoke and spoke to

Alarmed, she sent for the Brethren and

him, but he answered not.

for the Doetor. The patient was fora short time shakenby slight

spasms, but soon became perfectly calm. His eyes were open, but

he did not appear to see and to distinguish those who were around

him.

Wheén Dr. Chimmo arrived, he perceived at once, that all was

too late. Between five and six o’clock brother Weigle ceased to breathe.

There he lay, brother Kaundinya wrote to me, as if he were deeply en-

gaged in prayer, with a light playing over his countenance, springing

from a blessed assurance that his petitions were being heard by his

Heavenly Father.

His eldest boy, Charles, on being told that his

father had died, replied angrily : < No, don’t say so. ke is not dead.

Do you not see how he smiles »” However, in the course of the day

the dear child found out his mistake ; yet he was not to be shaken

from his . confidence that his beloved father could not be dead for

good. « Make haste,” said he to the people, who were busy about, the

coffin. ¢ Make haste and carry it off”’ :—and then he explained to his

(2]

Le ]

alflicted” mothe

say 1110

“ Dear motler, let them carry' away Papa

When they arrive at ‘the cate, the Lord will 'come, and

quickly

tell them to stand

He will take Papa by the hand, and bring him

back to us

Dr. Chimmo was anxious to examine the body.

The examination

shewed no. cause of the sudden death. !

On the contrary there were

ratherthe appearances of sound health.

But the head was left undis-

turbed

There probably the explanation would have been found. We

know enough, however.

The Lord has called his servant to rest, too

soon, our oncf is tempted to say,

for us, but he himself would not

return to e\dl'moc the troubles and temptations of this world for his

sweeb repose in JO\’ful hope of a blessed resurrection.

Tis loss to our mission and, I may say, to the Canarcse Missions

at large, is great indeed ;

great, when T ‘consider the work which he

had done, and greater etlll when I consider, what we had a right to

expect of him \et for he was in the very prime of life, not havmo fully

completed his thnty-nmth year, -and was about, I trusted, to bear yet

an abundance of the ripe fruits of mature age.

How great 1s the power

of that Captain, who can afford to let his best men. go-on leave when the

Indian campaign is just on the eve of commencing in earnest

I wish T had in former days listened to my dear brother, when he

used to talk of his early death.

But I took it for granted that I had

a right to go first, being five vears older, and never pelrmtted him to

I should mnow h‘IVL something to remember of

assume the contrary

his wishes regarding the task now imposed upon me

However I know

his mind full well.

I can almost hear him say to me, (supposing I

had put the question laughingly) :

« But dear (uodfxey, what . shall I

say, when you are gone.

What sort. of presentation do you wish me

to make ?” Dont joke, dear Herrmann, you will see how things

o0

don’t tell lies rabout me,

I have only one thing to ask you:

when [ am gone

1 am a, mere nobody, a nothmtr.

The less saul

about me the better.”

“Depend upon that,”

dear

G. 1 would

have replied, And you give me the same promise, and keep it, when

the day comes.’

Now that the sad duty has devolved ‘upon me, I shall discharge

1t idlthfully though it is well that he has mot to listen to my

account, or he would often interrupt me, and perhaps beg of me, as T

loved him, to hold my tongue. For humility, a lowhness of mind 1

have rarely seen in this w01ld most true and unaffected,

\ et dl'

when T 1emonstlated

most mor bld

so that he himself, sometimes,

with him, suspectcd there was something wrong about it, and then in

his own peculiar way turned round ’w'nnst himself saying,

“Who

knows, but all this humble- mindedness ' is ouly pride in disguise ?”’

—was probably the most prominent feature in his ‘character.

4

He was born on the 1st July 1816 ab the manse of Zell, a village in

the beautiful valley of the Neckar in Wultembelg His father was a

Qleloyman of rare attnnments, both in theology and mathematms,

and of a truly Evangelical character,

shrouded almost in_extreme

His mothel was the dauOhtel of Mr.

modesty.

Werner, a preceptor

famous in our country, especially among the tyros of classic languages,

fiom his books of Latin and Greek exercises, which were used as

class books throughout the country for one or two generations.

She was a woman of extreme nervous sensibility,

and unable to

bear up long against the trials of this rough world.

She died when

her eldest boy, Godﬁev was only ten yvears of age.

Our dear brother

was a genuine son of both his parents.

To him were united the sterling

character of the worthy, learned, but most modest father, and the

nervous temperament, as well as the talenls of the mothex

His

earliest childhood was spent at Zell under the roof and firm guidance

of his father, and the affectionate, care of his pious mother.

In 1820 he was committed to the care of his excellent grand-parents,

Preceptor Werner and his ' wife at Stuttgart.

After the death of the

grandfather, Godfrey was removed to the Lyceum, at Ludwigsburg,

where he made rapid progress in Latin, Greek, &ec. under the martial

rule of Rector Breitschwerdst.

Whilst there, the news of his mothex’s

death reached him, and the dying message she sent to her firstborn :

““‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,”

made a deep

impression on his heart. Thence The was transferred to Slndelﬁlwen

where the preceptor Wollbold, a good Latin scholar and very good

musician, knew how to stir up in boys of twelve or thirteen years

a lastmg zeal both for classical studies and music.

In the year

1828 his father was again united in marriage to an excellent woman

of much faith and love

and shortly afterwards he was sent to the

Grdmm'u school of Nultlnfren under Rectm Plank, one of the most

famous Preceptors of the time.

During his stay here of one and a

balf year, he lived in the house of the Dean, Dr. Wurm, a learned

In

and pious divine, who dearly loved the ‘promising scholar.

the ‘year 1830 he was prepared by his father for the first

communion.

From this ‘season dates the commencement of his

splutual life—but the waters ran wunder gronnd for a long distance

until in 1835 the stream gushed into the lwht of full day.

After he

had put the taper of grace, as, it were, into the hand of his first bom

.....

the pious fathe1 s health declined. e was called to hls rest, before

Godfrey proceeded to the university.

His widow sucoeeded now to

the care of the small famlly of three chlldlen, the eldeat of whom

had grown into a lively, talented and excellent youth, and one of the

ﬁrst; SChOlaIS n the theologw'll semipary at Urach. Here hlS ealhel

reh,glous impressions were in a

Leat measure supplanted by the

spirit of heathen classics,

and of 1n0d¢rn unchris

.....

fian poets.

Yet a

pilous tradesman, whose acquaintance he had, made, often succeeded

5

in recalling him to bétter aspiratioifs ; mid his ardent love for the study

of modern languages, mathemmatics and the natural scierices, kept liin

from thie company of the wild and thoughtless, though his heart was

1ot with God, but with the world, in the fairy ladd of fancy and

oetry. During this period ©f life, so full 'of danger to ‘a buoydnt

spirit, launching frésh iito the ‘enchanted world of sensuous and

intellectual pleasure, without knowing how to use the compass of the

Word or the anchior of Faith, the good step-mother, more faithful and

loving than many a real mother, atched over the son, whose

waywardness she perceived with sorrow, and, feeling her own

helplessness and inability to be his intellectual guide, she prayed for

him with all the anxiety you see.in a foster-mother hen, when she

has to stay behind and witness her little ducklings glide into an

element foreign to herself.*

In autunin 1834 Weigle removed to the umniversity of Tubingei,

well furnished with a great variety of knowledge, much of which ke

lad not been taught at the semindry, an eénthusiastic admirer of the

Humboldts, ‘and Grimmnis, a devoted adorer of the great poets, ‘and

determired to study every language and science, except-theology.

In November 1834 I first met my future fellow Missionary.

1

have forgotten the exact date, but I-shall never forget the day of our

meeting, and I shall never ¢ease 'to thank God for mercy past find-

ing out; in having delivered both myself and my beloved brother

fromone of the most'subtle eharms of the -god of this world, the

idolatry of intellect and fancy, (a worship whose temple looks fair

enough, but which keeps up a conrnéction, however beautifully

gdrnished, with drunkenness and gluttony dnd all uncleanness), before

we were given over dltogether tothe lusts of the flesh and of the

mind.

We inet the first time at a public tavern, where I had put

up one motrning, having come on business from my ecuracy, at a

distance of ‘ten or twelve miles from Tubingen.

1 was then my

i k NQZe by Dr. Gzzndert.—“ We met for the firsttime in October ]833, at the

house of a muttual friend. I was then at the University, Weigle in the seminary

at Ufach. My face was turned Zionward indeed, but ‘my heart was yet' full of

thie world ; 'T'was much taken with young ‘Weigle.

The house 'being full of guests;

we both occupied one sléeping apartment. . We had ‘a long talk of Goethe and

Sehiller, (Weigle was then a desperate admirer of Schiller), de omnibus rebus ef

quibusdam ahis, till late at night: Weigle put out the candle at last, and a

short silence followed. At once W. commenced in a rather solemn tone to ask :

What do you think of prayer ® I felt ashamed that the shylad ‘should have been

the fitst to open his lips on' such ‘a’subject, but answered : I'do think that there

is beality'and power in prayer, ‘I have tried it myself.

The ice being now broken,

Weigle went on along while speaking of the wants of his heart, and the manifold

woes of his soul. Religion. he said, isthe only balm for a wounded spirit.

Under this peroration W., who had ‘marched a long distance on 'the preceding

;

day, fell

at ldst asletp.”

H

father’s

curate,

having left, the university, when Weigle entered it.

The good spirit-of God had begun a work of grace in me, but I was

only bent ou warding off the shar puess of the sword, steclmo myself

against the arrows of the N \Ilohty One, and dlowmno the stlll small

Weigle was

voice in noisy mirth, whenever I found genial company.

pxcscnted to me at a wine . breakfast, by one of the elder ft‘]lOW: of

our

< sesthetic club,’

as a freshman. “of great talents and promise,

and was graciously 1ecc1vu1 by me as senior of the noble fraternity !

Poor Godhey looked a htLle embarrassed, and after a while dis-

appeared.

In February

Phat winter became the tm ning pomt of my life.

T resolved to

oo on Mission service

in’ orateful ‘obedience to ‘the

good Lord, who had called me to life.

In April T had to preach in

(hapd of the university, and delivered, as it were,

my ‘confession

of faith,

to the .amazement of many old friends and companions.

At that tlme I met my Brother again.

Dur 1110 the summer

of the

year I was at Basel.

In autumn 1835 I took the, liberty of proposing

to my beloved father, from Basel, that he should marry again, be-

fore, I left the country

He had been a widower for a year, and

had the care of five other

children

all younger than myself.

1

informed him, that T had heard of the widow of the Rev. Ch. Welole as

a most exemplary and truly pious woman,

and: that T had a kmd of

presentiment that she would be to himself and our family all he could

desire

My dear father, who treated me more likea friend than a

son, acted upony letter

This union proved perfectly happy and richly

blessed, not'onlyto the beloved parents but to the whole family and ‘many

others

Now I found dear Weigle in my father’s house, a membe

as if he had been his

of ‘our own family, and as'dear'to my ' fathes

own child

We both were soonintimate; “and I did my dearbrother

alr essential serviee without' knowing 1t

He bad looked up to me

as somebody, on the strength of the traditions

of ' me still fresh when

he entered the college. He had been under the same charm as myself

and,

though

struggling,

had

not yet succeeded in shaking it off.

'lhe bread of life d1d not yet fully suit his taste, nor could he as yet

distinguish between 1(311010115 111'11)16:;31011b upon the imagination, and

Now a dlsemhauted

the power of . the Gospcl living in the heart.

He saw that the

man had/suddenly become: his mend Lis; brother.

word of God was trath andlife to the formerpoetic dreamer, and that

those jewels, which still 'retained ‘some attractive power in his own

eyes, were treated by the sobered friend as very gravel.

He perceived

and felt this new

that there was reality in what he saw and heald

influence as a deliverance. I was about to go to India. His own boyish

\IlelOIl'uY dreams, which'his father formelly had discouraged, returned

now in a more sober hue, and under the aspect not of iancy but of

duty

God had granted him ‘the help he had required, in order to

becomc a hccdman of Chuist

He now felt the power of Grace,

1

and swrrendered himself fully to his Saviour. When on the 6th January,

1836, 1 was ordained at St. George’ e’s, the University church, dear

W el(rle came to me in the evening 'md giving

me a hearty shake of

the haud said :

ke il done Hell mann.

1f1t be the will of God, L

as soon as I have finished

course here.”

follow you to India,

my

O the riches of God’s mercy

This was my, ordination shilling

The

Weigle had still three years of Uuiversity study before him.

He was now a chris-

mere htehuy and wsthetic spell was broken.

tian young man, of excellent talents and great acquirements, who had

a purpose in his heart and an object to live for,

and he

used his

and Gm(le in Exegetical

time

well

Dr

Schimid was his master

dwald, tlu, greab Oncntahst

and Homiletical theology. = Professor

was delighted with the strides the young disciple madc in Sanserit

and l&mblc

In private the zealous student prosecuted his general

linguistic studies

At the same time the constant mtacomse with

our dear father, who, T do believe, at last quite forgot that Weigle

was not his own son, and who had greatly advahced himself in

spiritual life, was a source of comfort ‘and strength to the yet un-

experienced beginner

Richly furnished with rare accomphbluncnts

he went to Basel iu the end of '1838.

He stayed there “a year,

cmployed as tutor in the institution, but living among the brethren,

and acquired much practical and e‘q)eumental knowlcdoe of tho

-

Scriptures and of Christian life.

Early in 1840, he left f(n India in

J." Ammann

and M. Fritz

the company of the brethren, J. Muller,

towards whom

he continued to feel a peculiar attachment, and

arrived at ‘Mangalore on the 19th September of that year.

e brought with him to this

India-Mission service stores of

knowledge 1a1cly in the possession of a fresh-man from Kurope,

and talcnts of the first order.

He was a very fair Latin and Greek

scholcu well at home in Hebrew, had gone deep into medieval Ger-

man, had studied Arabic and Sanscrit “under professor Ewald with

much zeal and success, and had made himself acquainted with all the

principal languages of Kurope from Russian to Portuguese.

On his

arrival at Bombay in June 1840 be commenced Canaicse, and

looked about him in Mahrathi, Guzarathi and Hindusthani, to which

On his land-

afterwards Malayalam, Twu and Tamil were added.

ing at Mangalore on the 19th September, as above stated he found me in

nuy 1oom—~(1t was my fourth Indian year,)—Dboring at Krishnamachary-

ar’s Canarese Grammar. He sat down with me at once. In a few days I

found, that he helped me as much as I did him, and before we had gone

thlouOh half the book, we were almost on a par. \[y Joy at having iouu(l

such a work-fellow was most intense. I scarcely knew how to Dehave

myself. In the following December he accompanied me on a Mission-

ary tour to the annual Festival at Subrahmanya, when he had the first

ull view of the work that lay before us, and felt a little nervous

8

at the rough and tough battling of which we had a specimen there ;

butlesolutely made up his mitd to do his part of our common

labor heartily and thoroughly.

In the beginning of 1841, he relieved

nie of the superintendence of, and the Iessons ¥ had given in, the then

iiew English School, and from that time forward, he showed in nothmo

the applentlce but was ever ready for every duty which happened to

fall to his lot.

When and how he learned English; of which he - had

a very complete knowledge, and which he spoke 1em'ukably well ;

when and how he learned Canarese, in which I doubt if any Mlssmn-

ary excelled him, I cannot tell, though we lived day and night

together for several years.

He seuned to take things into his mmd

as one puts food into one’s

mouth, without cormdennfr it fatwumo

work ; to digest at his ease, what he had thiis acqun‘ed and then-——lt

was Lis own, for his memory was excellent. Yet 1 believe, few of the

brethren of our Mission ever knew the extent of his attamments ; and

when some allusion to his private stores slipped from his lips, he was

quite anxious to obliterate the remembrance of the blunder by some

dxsquahfvmo remark, o by hurrying to some other topic of conversa-

tion.

He was a ¢ ood mathematlclan knew a good deal of medlcme

anatomy and phv iology,

cale{ully watohed the

progress

whlch

modern science has made on the field of Geolooy and Astronomy ; and

was fond of Botany. But only on rare occasious would he allow

himself to appear as if he knew more than his neighbours.

Besides,

he had a great taste for music, and an excellent voice and a most

correct ear.

£3F

His was tlie principal share in the labor of our néw Ca

mnarese

translation of the Bible. He prepared the first draft of the translation

of the New Testament, and of most of the books of the Old Testa-

ment,

This work he performed diligently, and all the rest of our

Revision Committee members thought, successfully.

But to take part

in the proceedings of the Revision Corhmittee wis very tortute to

himi. Of course his translation had to be debated,

chanoes were

proposed and cdiried by a majority of votes.

Sommmes our correc-

tions of his 'draft’ wete really good and he wotild then rejoice in the

emendation, but sometimes the reverse was the case, or at ledst ap-

pearéd to him so.

On Slich occasions he would sit at the Commit-

tee like a culput

Every ddverse remark sounded to him likea

condemmnation of his Idbors and his capacity.

He was afraid of stat-

ing his reasons fully, thinking he might hurt the feelings of ‘sotne

membm of the Committee. And could he undertake to defend his owh

work ?

Would it not ook as if he thought himself siperior in

He

I\nowledoe of the original or of the (‘anmse to the rest of us?

was ' therefore quite h'\ppv when an arrabgement was tnade, which

reduced the number of Revision Comnnttee members in attendance

from six o three, and permitted him to make me his proxy.

He had

d ]’)CCllhd] "'llt m hdllSldtlll

however.

He did not like to translatc

9

quite literally. But he entered so thoroughly into the spivit and taste

of the original befoxe him, and had so correct an instinct in seizing the

applopmate materials from the stores of the sacred language for recon-

structing the building, as- it were, on new ground that if he did not

ploduu, photographs (which too often Look lifeless thmwh of course

corrget), he gave speaking likenesses. We had many a blothulv battle

on this score in translating the scriptures, because I often wished to

obtain, what sometimes proved an impossibility, a perfect transfusion

not of the substance only but of the form also of the inspired text into

the Canal ese mould

And neither ot us had the least mchmnou to

yield a hair’s breadth to please one another, nor would he have been

pleased, if he had suspected, that I compwmlsed something from def-

erence to his judgment. His extreme sensitiveness commned with his

innate humility—an heirloom, I believe, from his excellent father—

rendered him liable to raise his opinion of the capacities of others in

the same ratio, in which he depreciated his own. He would sometimes

treat me, \vho was sadly inferior to him in philological attainments, in

a manner that would remind me of the h‘lllucmatlon of some learned

Professor, seized with profound, respect for the scholarship of the fol-

lower Who carries his books for him.

His powers of - application, when he was once fairly in harness, and

the rapidity with which he went over his ground, were extraordinary.

He could go on f01 days and weeks, labor the whole day and dream of

his WOI]\ ‘1t mOht His translation of the New, and of the greater part

of the Old Testament 1 have mentioned. Some years ag0 he under-

took the tlcmslatlon of a German Biblicgl commentary, in which how-

ever he was frequently 1nteuupted by sicknesses of his own and in his

family, and by the avocations of his regular Missionary duties, for-

merly at Dhaxwal, lattelly at Manwalole

The first part of the L\ew

Testament, comprizing a halmony of the Gospels, he translated with-

out the help of a Munshi, wutmg every word of the goodly volume

w1th hls own lnnd

In 1846, when I was at home for some months,

Dr.

Hoffmann,

debn ed

the then Pnnclpal of the Basel Missionary Institution,

me to write some Essay on an Indian subject, likely to prove

acceptable to the Friends of our Mission among men of learn-

ln oy

I }gleaded my inability to write anythmg worth reading

amidst the continual dlstractlons of tlavelhnrr, attending meetmcrs

& 5 But 1 give you three anths time,’

he said. I 1ephed

“ If you give me three months, I promise you something truly good,

but 1 shall get it out of my brother Weigle, not from my own poor

resources.” “ Th1ee months will scarcely give yon time to reccive an

answer to a letter,”

Dr. Hoifmann thought.

However I wrote imme-

diately to Weigle and said, “Dear bxothel Tamina fix. T ought to

produce something on a sudden for publication, something Yo in-

>

Pk

R

=

tevest the learned folks here.

You will do this much better at Kateru

(where he then lived). Let me have a good full Essay on the char-

acter of the Canarese language and literature. But mind, T nust

have it by return of post. You have a full fortnight, quite sufficient.”

The third mail brought me the required essay, which was afterwards

printed in the transactions of the Leipzig Oriental Society, met with

deserved praise, and was at once acknowledged by a diploma of

membership to the author. e translated Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Pro-

oress, which he' asked me, or rather permitted me (for he dreaded

fouching the masterwork of the

great Christian poet), to adapt,

modestly, to the meridian of India. Iis was the prineipal share in the

formation of our Canarese Hymmn-book, a third edition of which, con-

taining 150 hymus, (mostly translations of old Geérman Church hymns,)

he was prevented from carrying through the press by his sudden depar-

ture. e had advanced, however, to the third but last sheet. "Nearly

130 hymns were printed, when I arrived at Mangalore, five days after

his death.

Besides, he revised my own tracts and translations, as if

they had been his own': and in some measure they were his as well as

mine, for we had all things in common.

Yet if some friend had asked him about his literary 1abors ﬁs a

(19

There 1is

Canarese Missionary, he would probably have replied :

little to be said.” Ihave translated a considerable portion of the Scrip-

tures for the Canarese Revision Committee, but I doubt if my work

has been very acceptable or useful. 1 have commenced the translaton

of a new Biblical commentary, but shall never finish it. Besides, I have

now and then assisted brother Moegling a little in his book manufactory ;

bl

vou had better ask him.’

He seemed constantly to labor under the

Aund in one

humiliating consciousness, that he had done very little.

sense I myself think that he was right.

I mnever considered hislabors

during these first fifteen ' years—thus I fondly called them,—of his

Indian Missionary life—to be more than a kind of first fruits, rather

The Lord has judged differently,

scanty, of a coming rich harvest.

and called him to his rest.

The husbandman has come into his garden,

and, seeing the ripe and mellow fruit, has taken it home, while the sour

apple 1s left hanging on the tree, to sweeten in time also.

He was a thoughtful, earnest, painstaking and edifying preacher,

who seldom withdrew the attention of his hearers from the grand

themes of the Gospel ; whose own soul knew no rest but in free grace, and

the blood of the Lamb ; and who strove to magnify Christ, the Saviour

of sinners, in the hearts of men. He delighted at different periods,

as opportunities offered, ‘in lecturing on some of Paul’s epistles; him-

self, in spirit, going back to the scenes and times of the first century,

to live among the company of the Apostles, and the first Missionaries

of Christ’s Kingdom.

But his Canarese preaching was decidedly

superior to his English Sermons. In an Eng‘]ish congregation, the

11

apprehension that he might perhaps be addressing critics instead of

But in a Canarese con-

hearers, often rendered him uncomfortable.

gregation he seemed to feel at ease and at home. The remembrance

of the few sermons which the allowed me to hear, is still fresh and

sweet to me.

His dispositions were so simple and arose so naturally

from the text ; his expositions of the word were so clear, so compre-

heusive, so well proportioned; and yet so easy; his practical applica-

tions so much to the point, sometimes a little pangent, yet so calm

and kind and humble withal; his Canarese so well grounded, so faultless,

so transparent and so perfectly idiomatic, without in the least reminding

one of set phrases kept in store and produced for the occasion, that 1

have gone away saying to myself, “1I have heard nothing better of

this kind of preaching, probab'ly shall not again, even from Godfrey

himself.”?” He had, while at Tubingen, duly appreciated and fully pro-

fited by the best master of the time in Biblical and practical Theology,

Prof. Dr. Schmid, for whom he ever entertained the most grateful

veneration, and from whom had learned to let the text preach its

QWIL Sermon.

He had a great love for every thing beautiful in nature, or human

character. A fine flower, a lovely landscapé, some mnoble trait of char-

acter in religious people or in others, was a feast to him, which he

would long enjoy and often repeat ; while the sight of things unseemly,

and intercourse with persons, whose character he could not esteem,

would make him quite unhappy.

His mind was so thoroughly cultivated, and his memory so richly

stored with all kinds of knowledge, that he would have been delightful

and most instructive in conversation, if he had had nerve enough

to hear himself speak alene for a few minutes in a larger company.

But he was himself quite a company for one who had the privilege

Tt was not in his

of enjoying his society alone for some time.

nature to make a display of his large stores of information, but

whoever came in contact with him, Missionary or man of seience,

military man or civilian, found him fully alive to, and aw fait in, any

question of interest, practical or theoretical ; and such as had the

pleasure of unvestrained intercourse with him carried away the im-

they

pression that, to use the words of a valued friend at Mangalore,

had met with a man of refined taste and highly cultivated mind.

He

never indulged in sallies of wit or raillery, not deeming such sport

safe, for he judged of the feelings of others by his own extreme

sensitiveness. But few people enjoyed a good joke more than he did,

‘when he was sure that no one’s feelings were hurt, or when, among

a company of likeminded friends, he himself with his harmless foibles

was made the butt of pleasantry.

His judgment was remarkably sober,

solid and sound, but slightly tinged by his constitutional melancholy.

He was sure of looking at the dark side, while I looked at the bright

side of things, and thus became, to.a sanguine temperament, a most

valuable counsellor and counterpoise. - He seldom offered, never ob-

truded, his opinions on others; but when he felt it his duty to speak

out, he had great firmness, aud nothing could induce him to swerve

from a faithful delivery of his sentiments, thongh they were couched

He had 'a horror of ex-

in the mildest language at his command.

tremes, both in politics and in religious views, generally preferred

old to new things, and felt an instinctive antipathy to all radicalism.

Without blinding himself to the insular pride and selfish policy of

England, he greatly admired all that is healthy, and noble, and

generous in the English ' character, (the great Duke, especially, was

his hero : his death went to: his very heart,) and might have used

the language of Niebuhrto express his English sympathies : < If T was

not a German, and had my choice, I should like to be an Euglishman.”?

As a husband and a father, he was the most affectionate creature

alive.

His soul was bound up in the happiness of his wife and chil-

dren.

Sickuess, even of the mildest character, in his family would

_aﬁ‘ect him most keenly, and occasionally unfit him almost for work.

Yea sometimes, if by anxious cross questioning, he discovered that

his beloved partuer had been ailing, he could scarcely realize the fact

that all was past, but would exclaim with a sigh, My poor wife,

how much have you to suffer I’ His Christian character was quite

in keeping with the above delincation.

He had enjoyeda sound reli-

gious education, his father having been a most exemplary and devoted

servant of God.

Ispecially during the season of preparation for

his first communion, the instractions and admonitions of his beloved

father, whose health was already failin

T,

o

mace “deep impressions on

his heart, never afterwards to be effaced.

When, after a' number: of

years, during which he had been more o ‘less estranged from the

Lord, he was at last brought' to ‘a full apprehension of the grace of

Christ, he had not that fulness of joy in believing, which is often

vouchsafed to those who have previously lived altogether without

God and without hope in the world, but was often disturbed by

doubts as to the reality of his religion, and haunted by fears lest he

should lose the grace whicli, when in a melancholy frame of mind,

he would think he had received in vain.

This characteristic' clung

to'him to the

last.

wrote to Dr.

A few days’ before his 'death; he

Gundert, one

s

1

of his oldest and most intimate friends, on perusing

P

letter from a son of Dr. Gundert, which gave clear indications of

C

)

thorough change of heart in the dear youth, < Samuel’s letter has

moved me: fo tears. When T see so childlike and thorough a con-

version; I cannot help thinking of myself ‘and feeling that, poor old’

fellow, for the want of a thorough commencement 1 am still full of

ailings.

Alas ! the Lord have merey upon me.”

The farewell words

addressed to his beloved 'partner sprang from the same source

of an humble, contrite spirit, whieh is precious in the sicht of God.

13

As a Missionary, he avas more adapted for the building up

f

a

church cathered into the fold of Christ, for the grounding of believers

in a fuller knowledge

of divine truth,

and for

mstructing

Promising

action on the

youths in every bnnch of learning, than for aggressive

raw and unsvmpathl/,mg mass of heathenism, or ‘u'akuuno the uneon-

cerned professor.

Public preaching in the bazaar 1emamcd a task-work

to him to the very last, though he did his duty manfully, and often

in very admirable style

Asis sometimes the case with highly gifted

minds, he never succceded in working by steady rule and method.

But whenever

he had once warmed in a labour,

few

men could

exceed him in determined exertion

which lasted as long as any part

of the work in hand remained unfinished ;

but though he seemed to

enjoy such - excessive work, it was too v1olent to be carried on for

ever

Thus his faults and short-comings lay by the very side of his

oreat oifts and his christian virtue

It is not necessary to carry on the narrative further, an account

of the Indian Misstonary having been given above

Five years he

spent at Mangalore, at the end of which time he was married to a

partner chosen for him by our dear father, a choice than which none

could have plove(t happier.

The five following years he spent on the

Nilagiris,where, in connection with the noble Casamajor, he founded

the Badaga mission. The last five years were divided between Dharwar

and Mangalore.

He has left four children, two of whom, the

second

and third

bear the very image of their father

We have no likeness of Weigle, except one made by a friend many

years

ago

which

Mr

Casamajor condemned

aying

“This is a

very fine face, no doubt, and something like Weigle, yet not like him

This is not Weigle’s fine intellectual forehead

I dont like it.”

The first time 7 was struck with the peculiar character of his

countenance, was, strange to say, at Paris, July 1846, when I had

of several times

meeting

the pleasure

the celebrated professor

Agassiz, from whose face I could scarcely take off my eyes, and who

bore the

most striking resemblance to my brother, only that the

lower part of the Professor’s face was broader and stronger. Both

had, under capacious bright foreheads, a pair of large brown eyes full

of life and deep thought

On Weigle’s muscular and peculiarly

aved upper lip was a constant play of intellect, melancholy, and

sensitive tenderness.

His height was very nearly five feet ten inches,

but he contrived to carry himself in such a manner as to look shorter.

Very rarely stood he quite erect, except in the pulpit.

He had brown

hair and a fair complexion;

his appearance was that of a strongly

made man

Latterly he was inclined to corpulency. As for dress

he was very indifferent

Had it not been for the business

of

shaving

which he despatched in a minute or two, a looking glass

wwould have been a superfluity to him.

14

Now I have done. The attempt to dvaw aefaithful likeness of the

beloved departed has leen to me a task of sweet sadness.

1! shail

never see his like on this side of the grave.

My brotherly love will

ever be with him, unaltered. And shall I not see him again? To

Faith the day

meet !

.of the Lord is at hand. In his presence we shall

Like a little child, whose tears are suddenly dried up by a gleam of

joy, I am tempted to clap my hands and sing :

“ 0! that will' be joyful,

When we meet to part no more.”

H, MOEGLING.

R

S S . e e e pr——

R

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SRR

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20

19

ALMANDA, 13/ July, 185

Q

18

VierFarbSelector Standard * - Euroskala Offset

you requested me, a month ago,

to

0

four departed ‘brother W ewlc s life

17

obey your call

But for some weeks

Balance

3 task

Tears would have fast blotted

ou wouldnot press me too mucl

The

0

v over, before one can be expected to

nest and most sympathumo fll(,llda,

5

)’s fondest hopes

Focus

e work, I see considerable difficulties

4

self to the resolution of writing about

N

yle merely of a mourning N[lb&l()ndly

more appropriate, as, you wish to

1

, if T speak out of the abundance of

self, than I wish to do, before an almost

for my dear Brother md myself have

&

teen years, working, thinking, feeling,

er, have been yoku fdlows SO much

1

that 1 cannot, give a full account of

€ the living membel of the missionary

I, for a Wlulc by death.

Though we

1

Swabian law, which 2008 falthel than

ach otherbrothers: mstead of bréthren,

my soul, when T'heard of my brother’s

)¢ pangs are, ‘which are said to seize

1e death of his fellow.

;

you, to_have this sketch plm ted only

more intimate acquaintance, who will

prefer this unreserved narrative to a

ance, and to pubhsh in the Herald,

thmk suited for a moere public com-

the 7th June,

devr Wucrle bleathul

almattha \hs%lou house at ‘Manga-

some’ of | our’ happiest hours),

to

Jhinimo,

who' had attended him for

his dllmmt to be an almost trifling

utterable ‘grief of his beloved partne

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