€¦ · Web viewDavid J. Bos, ‘A Good Enough Parson: Early Nineteenth-Century, Dutch Discourse on Requirements for the Pastoral Ministry in the Reformed Church’

David J. Bos, ‘A Good Enough Parson: Early Nineteenth-Century, Dutch Discourse on Requirements for the Pastoral Ministry in the Reformed Church’. In: Th. Clemens & W. Janse (eds.), The Pastor Bonus [DRCH/NAKG 83]. Leiden/Boston: Brill 2004, 333-70

A Good Enough ParsonEarly Nineteenth-Century, Dutch Discourse on Requirements for the Pastoral Ministry in the Reformed Church

David J. Bos

...the ministry of an Overseer is not an independent, but a dependent ministry, which brings us into the closest and tenderest relationship with the congregation that calls us...1

1. IntroductionFor the greater part of the nineteenth century, the Dutch Reformed Church was strongly divided on the interpretation of one of its requirements for ordination, viz. that candidates should promise that they would teach and uphold all three ‘Formularies of Unity’ of the Reformed Church: the Dutch Confession (1561), the Heidelberg Catechism (1566), and the Dordrecht Canons (1619). The debate on this question, which was also at stake where confirmation of laymen was concerned, dominated Reformed churchdom for many decades – and held the field of Dutch church history for an even longer period. This focus on doctrinal discipline (or the lack of it) has obstructed the view of other dimensions of change in the nineteenth-century Protestant churches and their clergy. According to late eighteenth and early nineteenth century observers, the ministry was affected by all sorts of social, political and cultural change. Many treatises were written on the implications of these changes for the professional proceeding of Dutch ministers and, consequently, for their recruitment, selection and training.[333]

In this contribution, I will investigate what qualities, properties, dispositions, virtues or achievements (apart from formal training) a minister of religion was thought to need. Instead of analysing the image of the pastor optimus – an ideal which seems not to have changed much over time, nor to differ much from country to country, or from church to church – I will reconstruct prerequisites for becoming a good enough parson. The question to be answered is not only what qualities were required, but also why these qualities were thought to be important, and how, if at all, one could acquire them.

The main sources for this analysis is a handful of books and treatises, published between the end of the eighteenth, and the middle of the nineteenth century.2 In order to point out changes and continuities, I will occasionally refer to earlier or later publications, notably to ‘Practical Theology’, an influential ‘Manual for Young Theologians’(1877-1878) by the Utrecht Professor of Theology Johannes Jacobus van Oosterzee,3 and to a book which some authors regard as the Netherlands’ first

1 N.N. "Raad aan een' jongen leeraar, die in zijne gemeente wenscht nuttig te zijn. Een brief"[‘Advice to a young minister who wants to make himself useful to his congregation’], in Maandschrift voor Christenen van den Beschaafden Stand [‘Monthly for Christians of the Educated Class’, edited by the Reformed ministers of Amsterdam], 5 (1841), 714-715.2 Cf. Peter T. van Rooden, "Van geestelijke stand naar beroepsgroep. De professionalisering van de Nederlandse predikant", Tijdschift voor Sociale Geschiedenis, 17 (1991), pp. 361-393; reprinted in Religieuze regimes. Over godsdienst en maatschappij in Nederland, 1570-1990 (Amsterdam, 1996), pp. 46-77).3Johannes Jacobus van Oosterzee (1817-1882), Doctor of Divinity (Utrecht, 1840), Reformed pastor in one village, one province town (Alkmaar) and then in Rotterdam (1844-1863), where he was celebrated as a preacher. Moderately conservative, Van Oosterzee was nomimated Professor of Theology at the University of Utrecht (1863-1882). His Practische theologie. Een handboek voor jeugdige godgeleerden (Utrecht, 1877-1878), was published shortly after the 1876 Law on Higher Education, which entrusted pastoral theology, dogmatics and the like to a new set of professors, appointed by the Reformed Church. It was translated into German, Danish and English (London, 1878). In this article, I


complete handbook of practical theology: ‘God’s Nazarite equipped for Holy Orders or Beneficial advice to students, candidates and young ministers; how they can fruitfully labour in the House of God’(1731-1746), written by the Rev. Henricus Ravesteyn.4[334]

The first full-fledged academic Dutch handbook in this field was ‘Practical Theology’, published in the 1850s by Willem Muurling,5 Professor of Theology in Groningen. He was not, however, the first academic theologian to express his view on the ministry. Half a century earlier, Jan Konijnenburg,6 Professor of Theology at the Remonstrant-Reformed seminary in Amsterdam, had published his ‘Lessons on the Ministry’ (1802), and Carolus Boers,7 Professor of Theology (and former regent of the ‘Staten College’) in Leyden published a ‘Handbook for Young Ministers’ (1807). His Utrecht colleague Jodocus Heringa Ezn.8 had planned to write such a book for the ‘domestic training-[335] school’ he held with his students, but as he was forestalled by Boers, he used the latter’s handbook as a guide for his own lectures. Heringa himself started a journal-like

refer to the second edition (Utrecht, 1894).See A. van Brummelen, Het praktisch-theologisch onderwijs van J.J. van Oosterzee (Huizen, 1980; thesis

University of Utrecht); M. van Rhijn, Gemeenschap en vereenzaming. Een studie over J.J. van Oosterzee (Amsterdam 1940); R.H. Bremmer, art. "Johannes Jacobus van Oosterzee", Biografisch Lexicon voor de Geschiedenis van het Nederlands Protestantisme (BLGNP), (5 vols, Kampen 1978-2001), 5, pp. 351-356; Friedrich Schweitzer, "Praktische Theologie in Nordamerika", in: Geschichte der praktischen Theologie, dargestellt anhand ihrer Klassiker, ed. Ch. Grethlein & M. Meyer-Blanck (Leipzig, 2000), p. 568.4Henricus Ravesteyn (1692-1749), Reformed parson in two successive villages and one province town (Zwolle). Published De Nasireer Gods tot den Heiligen Dienst toegerust of Heilzame raadgeving aan studenten, proponenten, en jonge leraaren; hoe zy in het Huis Gods met vrugt kunnen verkeeren (Amsterdam, 1731-1746). See R. Bisschop, art. "Henricus Ravesteyn", BLGNP, 5, pp. 419-421. In 1730, Ravesteyn published a first, short version of his Nasireer, entitled Beknopt onderrigt aan predikanten [Concise instruction of ministers]. In this article, I refer to the third edition (Amsterdam, 1765-1766).5Willem Muurling (1805-1882), Doctor of Divinity (Utrecht, 1831), was a Reformed pastor in one village before being nominated Professor of Theology at the universities of Franeker (1837) and Groningen (1840-1872). He wrote the first Dutch, academic handbook of practical theology: Practische godgeleerdheid, of Beschouwing van de Evangeliebediening voornamelijk in de Nederlandsche Hervormde Kerk. Een handboek bij de academische lessen; (Groningen, 1851-1855). In this article, I refer to the second edition (Groningen, 1860).

Muurling was one of the ‘Groninger Godgeleerden’, a romantic-liberal school in Dutch Protestantism which regarded ‘education’ as the principle of historical evolution. See Jasper Vree, De Groninger godgeleerden. De oorsprong en de eerste periode van hun optreden, 1820-1843 (Kampen, 1984; thesis Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam).6Jan Konijnenburg (1758-1831) was a Remonstrant-Reformed parson in one village (Hazerswoude) and two successive cities (Leiden and Utrecht) before being nominated Professor of Theology at the Remonstrant-Reformed Seminary in Amsterdam (1790-1827). A rationalist theologian and radical democrat, Konijnenburg was a member of the ‘National Assembly’ (Dutch parliament) in 1796-1797, and a friend of the Dutch novelists Betje Wolff and Aagje Deken. Lessen over het leeraars-ambt in de christlijke kerk (Utrecht, 1802). See S.B.J. Silverberg, art. "Jan Konijnenburg", BLGNP, 4, pp. 258-260.7Carolus Boers (1746-1814), was a Reformed parson in three successive villages and two cities (Amersoort and Haarlem) before being nominated Professor of Theology in Leyden. Shortly after the 1795 revolution, he was dismissed for being an Orangist, but in 1802 he was rehabilitated. On account of his professorship, Boers was the regent of ‘Staten College’ in Leyden, until its closing, around 1800. His Handboek voor jonge predikanten (Leyden, 1807; 2nd ed. 1820) consisted of three parts: on the prerequisites for ordination (pp. 1-25), on ministers' proceedings (pp. 26-213), and on their conduct when moving to another parish, retiring, or dying (pp. 214-224). In this article, I refer to the second, posthumous edition (Leyden, 1820).8Jodocus Heringa Ezn. [=Eliza’s son](1765-1840), Doctor of Divinity (Groningen, 1785), Reformed minister in two province towns (Nijkerk and Vlissingen), Professor of Theology at the university of Utrecht (1794-1835). Heringa was the editor of Kerkelijke Raadvrager en Raadgever, 4 vols. (Utrecht, 1821-1843). The last volume (4.2) was published after Heringa’s death, by his successor Herman Vinke. It included his essay ‘On Preparation for the Ministry’ (‘Over de voorbereiding tot het leeraars- en opzienersambt’, 1843). See A. de Groot, art. "Jodocus Heringa Eliza’s zoon", in BLGNP, 3, pp. 181-185.


series, entitled ‘Ecclesiastical Consultation’ (1821-1843). Beside these academic theologians (one from each of the four major Dutch universities),

‘practising professionals’ wrote noteworthy essays, too. On the eve of the 1795 Batavian Revolution, the Rev. Fokko Liefsting9 published his ‘Thoughts on the Ministry in the Reformed Church and its appropriate performance in the present-day situation’ (1792). In the latter days of the so-called French Era, the Rev. Gerardus Benthem Reddingius10 published ‘My Thoughts on the Ministry’ (1809).

2. Discontinuities: the need of rethinking the ministryInterestingly, both Liefsting and Benthem Reddingius were village parsons; they could not claim authority as successful or celebrated clergymen.11 Benthem Reddingius therefore began his treatise with something like an apology, by explaining that he did not fancy himself to be a professor or even more than that. In his view, however, “...every Minister [Leeraar i.e. Teacher] is free to openly say what he thinks about performing the ministry, and what experience has taught him about it.”12 Moreover, what he wanted to offer were no ‘lessons’,[336] but just his ‘thoughts’, pertaining to the ministry in the countryside only, not to its performance in the cities, “which is completely unknown to me”.13 Liefsting, too, pointed out that his book was meant for village parsons:

In the big cities, the ministry has a shape [aanzien] completely different from [the ministry] among peasants. Particularly in the more notable [aanzienlijke] cities, the ministers [leeraars] are almost exclusively orators, who time and again make religious speeches to the people. The other pastoral duties cannot be performed as in the villages. The main thing they [urban ministers] do is preaching in their turn, and have occasional conversations with those who prefer [to attend] their [church] services to others. With many of them, little comes of catechising. The education of most people, the lower classes in particular, is left to catechists. Parish visiting is done, but is usually treated as a so-called formality. [...] In the Villages, the ministry has a simpler and more natural shape. Among countrymen [...] a minister has ampler opportunity to act as a proper shepherd of souls.14

Benthem Reddingius wrote something similar: “If his work is that of a Shepherd, he can easily understand that it does not only imply preaching...”15 This suggests that Liefsting and he, in spite of their attestations of modesty, did know better after all. As the ministry in the countryside was less one-sided than in the cities, ‘simple’ village parsons could claim to be more acquainted with practical, pastoral reality. In this field, they were a match for their more prestigious fellow-

9Fokko Liefsting (1747-1824), Reformed pastor in three successive villages (all three in the North of the Netherlands), published (anonymously) his Gedachten over het Predikampt in de Gereformeerde Kerk en deszelfs rechten waarneming naar de gesteldheid van dezen tijd (Leeuwarden, 1792). After the Revolution and the subsequent disestablishment of the Reformed Church, Liefsting published a sequel: Vervolg van de Gedachten... [etc.](Leeuwarden, 1804).10Gerardus Benthem Reddingius (1774-1844), son of a Reformed clergyman, Doctor of Divinity (at the university of Franeker and, honorary, at the university of Harderwijk), Reformed minister (ordained in 1795), pastor of three successive village parishes and, ultimately, a provincial town parish (Assen, 1809), held many positions in provincial and national church government. Mijne gedachten over het leeraars-ambt (Amsterdam, 1809). A. de Groot, art. "Gerardus Benthem Reddingius", BLGNP, 4, pp. 31-33.11This was also true of Bernard Bosch, the author of De geachte Evangelie-arbeider, en welgeraen jongeling (Amsterdam, 1778). See S.B.J. Zilverberg, art. "Bernard Bosch", in: BLGNP, 2 (Kampen, 1983), pp. 85-87.12Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. vi.13Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. vi-vii.14Liefsting, Gedachten, p. xv.15Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 3.


theologians who had made it to a city or even to a university. Beside contrasts between urban and rural ministry, Liefsting mentioned differences between past and present. Rethinking the ministry was necessary, he argued, in view of historical change:

The Reformed church [kerkgenootschap] was established three and a half centuries ago. Several of its laws, too, were drawn up then. The duties [dienst] of its ministers, too, were regulated then. In the course of time, everything in the world is subject to change. [...] Someone who was a minister [het leeraarsampt bekleedde] in the Reformed Church one and a half or two centuries ago, proceeded of course in a completely different way than one must expect in these days.16

Ten years later, when much more had changed for the churches and the clergy, Jan Konijnenburg used the same argument to convince his readers that ministers could not do their job of ‘moral [337] civilisation’ unless they themselves responded to social and cultural change: “…the present civilisation requires, for instance, a completely different way of preaching than one used to follow; and with each increase of enlightenment, the skills of practising it will automatically be expanded.”17 A comprehensive, yet concise overview of changes that called for reconsidering the ministry was provided by Heringa, in the first forty paragraphs of the first volume (1821) of his ‘Ecclesiastical Consultation’.

Beside increased freedom of thought (and its discontents), advances in theological inquiry, decreased antagonism between the ‘schools’ of old, and reconciliation between Reformed and dissenter churches, Heringa mentioned political changes, of course: shortly after the 1795 Revolution, which had swept away the ancien régime of the Republic, the Reformed Church had been disestablished (§§2-7). He also called attention to more general social trends, however: “increased consideration of language and style among public orators, schoolteachers, writers and book reviewers”, improvements in primary education, the rise of friendly societies as the Maatschappij tot Nut van ’t Algemeen, the Bible Society and the Mission Society (§§8-12). These developments affected the ministry, Heringa argued, as did the rise of Sunday-schools, special church services for the poor, for children, and for military men (§§13-15), chaplaincy in hospitals and prisons, and the admittance of lay readers (§§34-35). Obviously relevant were the invention of new styles of preaching (§§16-17), new ways of religious education (§§32-33), and liturgical innovations regarding baptism, confirmation and marriage ceremonies, the preparation and celebration of Holy Supper, Good Friday, the turn of the year, and days of prayer or thanksgiving, Scripture reading, singing and praying in church (§§19-31). Some of these innovations had been recommended or even imposed by the General Synod, in 1817.

The Synod itself was a new phenomenon, too. After the Synod of Dordrecht, the Reformed Church had not held a national church assembly anymore. For almost two centuries, it was governed by ‘provincial synods’ and regional church councils [classes]. Since the federal Republic had been converted into a unitary state, this decentralised system of church government was con[338]sidered obsolete. In 1816 the government enforced a new system, granting supreme power to a national ‘managing-board’, the General Synod.

Dutch church historians have profusely discussed this reorganisation, which has been depicted as the root of all ills of the nineteenth-century Dutch Reformed churchdom. Heringa paid little attention to it, however. He only mentioned changes in the Church’s doctrinal and moral discipline, in the visitation of local churches, and the social composition of church councils (§§36-39). On the contrary, in the last of these forty paragraphs he sang his praises of a new arrangement:

16Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 13-14.17Konijnenburg, Lessen, p. 66-67.


“Such a fair institution, surpassing all the meetings of Classes or Synods I ever attended...”18 What Heringa referred to was not the General Synod, but the regular district meetings of clergymen, prescribed by the new ecclesiastical ordinances. In matters of church government, these fraternal meetings had no power whatsoever,19 but this made them all the more suitable for deliberating upon theological and pastoral issues: “...in my view, the need for mutual, brotherly consultation becomes even more urgent in our days.”20 In view of the clergy’s increased sociability, Heringa thought the time was ripe for discussing what made a good pastor.

Before we analyse the qualities he and other authors mentioned, something must said on what an early nineteenth century parson actually did for his living, and how these activities changed in the course of the century.

3. The parson’s progress21

Traditionally, delivering sermons was regarded as the core task of Dutch (Reformed) clergymen, who were commonly called ‘teachers’ [339][leeraars; after Eph. 4:11] or ‘preachers’ [predikanten]. Far into the nineteenth century, the average Reformed sermon lasted one hour – much longer than in other European countries. Since the middle of the eighteenth century, Dutch ministers had developed a new homiletic style. Instead of sifting out all the linguistic and dogmatic details of a Bible text – the characteristic feature of the ‘Dutch, analytical’ method – they adopted elements of the ‘English, synthetic’ approach. A good preacher, it was now believed, did not aim at showing off his learning, but reckoned with the way in which parishioners experienced his sermon.

Laymen’s religious experience was also taken into consideration where other rituals where concerned. Now that the separation of Church and State had deprived baptism and wedding of their secular, administrative functions, these rites of passage (and Holy Supper alike) were primarily expected to produce a religious mood. In order to bring this about, many clergymen altered or even abolished the traditional, rather forbidding sixteenth-century litanies, and introduced liturgical elements that were more suitable for touching the parishioners’ hearts. Traditionally, burial services were not regarded as a clerical duty. In order to root out ‘papist superstitions’, Reformed ministers had not even been allowed to give funeral sermons. In the nineteenth century, however, they began to deliver graveside orations and to perform further funerary rites. One of the reasons for this was that interment in churches was no longer allowed; burial was banned to separate, public graveyards. As a result, clergymen ran the risk of losing ground to undertakers, to lay preachers or even to Roman-Catholic priests.

Catechising, too, was a relatively new task. ‘Public catechising’ (continued religious education for adult members) was gradually abolished, but confirmation classes gained importance. Since the schoolmasters had been released from their supervision, ministers could no longer entrust them with the religious instruction of children. Nineteenth-century clergymen agreed that ‘teaching’ was their main task – even though in cities like Amsterdam, they largely let the work be done by catechists – but the way they executed it revealed a growing diversity. One minister after the other

18Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 1, p. 56.19In this respect, these district meetings [ringvergaderingen] were the opposite of the General Synod, which could not pronounce upon doctrinal matters. The strict separation of formal power and material authority in the 1816 church order reflects an enlightened organisational principle, cultivated by eighteenth-century ‘friendly societies’. See David Bos, In dienst van het Koninkrijk. Beroepsontwikkeling van hervormde predikanten in negentiende-eeuws Nederlands (thesis University of Amsterdam; Amsterdam, 1999) pp. 101-102.20Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 1, § 1. The title of his journal or series (literally: ‘Ecclesiastical Counsellee and Counsellor') stressed this mutuality.21This section is based on the first chapter of my thesis (Bos, Dienst, pp. 39-92).


published his own booklet of questions and answers, which often markedly deviated from the Heidelberg Catechism.

Pastoral care traditionally implied the house-to-house visiting of parishioners, in order to invite them to (or exclude them from) Holy Supper, which was celebrated four times a year. In the course of the nineteenth century, however, ministers developed a new form of [340] parish-visiting: a confidential, preferably private conversation, not with a view to celebrating Holy Supper but on the occasion of life-events of their individual parishioners. In this respect, parish visiting grew more or less similar to the visitation of the sick. The importance of the latter duty was emphasised more and more, even though in the cities, ministers largely left it to their inferiors (‘sick-visitors’). Nineteenth-century pastoral care for delinquents acquired a less official, a more private and educational character. This shift was caused by the disestablishment of the Reformed Church – which discharged clergymen from their role in the execution of the condemned –, by the transformation of prisons into institutions for moral reform, and by ministers’ exploration of a new field of activities: Home Mission. Even though this field was discovered by one specific religious movement, viz. the Réveil, eventually no minister could avoid involvement in Sunday schools, Christian schools, temperance -, mission -, or Bible societies, rehabilitation homes, hospitals, housing associations, young men’s or young women’s clubs. As a result, the set of clerical duties grew larger and larger.

In this respect, ministers of the Dutch Reformed Church resembled clergymen in other North West European countries and the United States, who also tried to establish closer contacts with their parishioners (and outsiders).22 Unlike their British and German peers, however, nineteenth century Dutch ministers of religion did not emphasise the spiritual, sacramental nature of the office they held – by adopting distinctive dress, etc. – or of the rituals they performed. They rather aimed at making their contacts with parishioners less official, and more personal, tailored to individual needs. This led to a growing diversity in ecclesiastical practice.23 Despite his insistence on doctrinal discipline, Van Oosterzee welcomed this trend: [341]

Preaching has lost in theological erudition, but, on the whole, despite large differences in standpoints and schools, it has not lost in moral and religious earnestness. The personality of the preacher himself has been unchained; the days are gone that most sermons [leerredenen] were as like as two peas. Unhindered respiration is no longer choked by a strait-jacket; individuality has regained its rights that were not appreciated for too long, and many preachers show a physiognomy that can attract you or repel you, but that cannot be mistaken for their neighbours’.24

Nevertheless, he and other authors who welcomed or accepted this pluriformity were convinced that there were some qualities no parson could do without.

4. Calling and characterOne of the best-known peculiarities of the clerical profession is that, traditionally, its members are expected to be motivated not only by their interest in the job or its social and material benefits, but

22Brian Heeney, A Different Kind of Gentleman. Parish Clergy as Professional Men in Early and Mid-Victorian England (Hamden, CT, 1976); Peter C. Hammond, The Parson and the Victorian Parish (London, 1977); Anthony J. Russell, The Clerical Profession, 2nd ed. (London 1984; orig. 1980) Alan Haig, The Victorian Clergy (London, 1984); Oliver Janz, Bürger besonderer Art. Evangelische Pfarrer in Preußen, 1850-1914 (Berlin, 1994); Nicholas Hope, German and Scandinavian Protestantism, 1700-1918 (Oxford, 1995).23Doctrinal disunity was not the only cause of this; to some extent, it may even have resulted from dissimilarities in parsons’ proceedings.24Van Oosterzee, Theologie, p. 222.


by divine vocation. Van Oosterzee underscored the importance of this: no one should become a minister, nor even read in theology, unless he had given proof of having both the required ability and the calling.25 On the other hand, the author made it clear that the latter should not be identified with any ‘completely extraordinary’ religious experience. In order to discover one’s calling, one should not look for internal, subjective signs, but for external, objective indications:

God usually reveals his will to us in our natural disposition, [in] the course of the circumstances , [and in] the advice of parents, friends and teachers, so that one cannot overestimate the importance of closely paying attention to the hints of his Providence. [...] In itself, strongly desiring the ministry is not a sign of vocation, nor does diffidently shrinking from it sufficiently prove that one is not called at all.26

Van Oosterzee was not the first to emphasise objective circumstances rather than subjective experience. Seventy years before him, Carolus Boers had explicitly denied that a ‘direct and extraordinary vocation’ was required for choosing a clerical career.27 This was in line with the traditional Dutch Reformed view of vocation: according to the formulary for the induction of ministers, drawn up by the 1586 [General] Synod of Dordrecht, a candidate must feel to be “legitimately called [342] to this holy ministry by Gods church [gemeente], and thus by God himself”. The question, then, was not if a minister had directly, mystically heard God’s voice, but if he recognised it in the call from a parish.28

In late eighteenth and early nineteenth century discourse on the ministry, however, the importance of feeling a special calling was toned down even further. In his ‘Thoughts on the ministry’, Fokko Liefsting argued that in Reformed churchdom, too much importance was attached to it. Ministers themselves referred to it so often, he wrote, “...that sensible people [...] are sometimes disgusted with it.”29 The circumstantial talk of ministers’ divine vocation wrongly suggested that only they were called by God:

If a present-day candidate for the ministry [...] receives a call to some parish, can we say that God calls him there, like an Apostle was called by Divine order to this or that place? By no means, nothing of the sort happens. He is destined for the ministry [het leeraarsampt] by God’s direction [...] but that is something he has in common with all men who have been trained for [...] Never, however, is a headmaster or a second master said to be called by God.30

Liefsting disapproved of this exception, not only because it suggested an un-Reformed distinction between clergy and laity, but because ‘the dignity of the ministry’ (as the first chapter of his book was entitled) was conceptualised too much in terms of its allegedly divine or apostolic origins, and too little in terms of its social, this-worldly function, viz. “to plant and cultivate Religion and virtue in society.”31 At present, many ministers did not succeed in spreading enlightenment and civilisation, knowledge and virtue. In Liefsting’s view, they themselves were partly to blame for

25Van Oosterzee, Theologie, p. 64.26Van Oosterzee, Theologie, p. 69.27Boers, Handboek, § 2.28F.A. van Lieburg, Profeten en hun vaderland. De geografische herkomst van de gereformeerde predikanten in Nederland van 1572 tot 1816 (thesis Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam; Zoetermeer, 1996), 150; cf. W.J. Aalders, Roeping en beroep bij Calvijn (Amsterdam, 1943).29Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 10-11.30Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 13.31Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 19.


“the bad state of the Church [Gemeente] and the fruitlessness of their ministry”32, because many of them were quite unfit for making themselves useful to society:

In the ministry [predikampt] one finds people who, as a result of their narrow-mindedness and intellectual meanness, are completely unfit; whereas one meets [343] with artisans who, by virtue of their good judgement of humankind and by all of their natural character, would be very capable, but now have to use their noble capacities for inferior employment.33

In order to make the ministry more useful to society, Liefsting argued, the recruitment and selection of candidates ought to be improved. One should not only assess if young men satisfied the moral requirements for becoming a minister, but also if they had the required abilities, “partly natural, partly acquired by training and education”.34 “The misery in the world would be much reduced, and infinitely much good would be brought about,” Liefsting wrote, “if the choice of a young man’s profession was made in view of his disposition and natural character”35.

Such a ‘psychological’ or ‘characterological’ rationalisation of recruitment had been advocated earlier by the Dutch poet and novelist Elisabeth Wolff36. In 1768, shortly after her début as a writer, she had described the case of a young man who had been persuaded to become a minister, even though this profession did not suit his temperament:

...he clearly feels that he cannot become a good theologian. He is light-hearted, cheerful, he loves music, he never misses an occasion for diversion in the theatre; he enjoys the civilising company of sweet, well-bred girls; he is, in one word, one of the best young men [...] but can this character make a worthy minister? In vain he prays, in vain he begs to be allowed to study law or medicine, or to go into business. Mother’s way (for this is usually the work of mothers) must be had, and he complies! what can he do? He simply must become a parson [dominee]. But alas! he plays his role miserably in many respects. Preaching goes acceptably; but as soon as he, with six or so hurried steps, races off the pulpit , the parson is gone!37[344]

Wolff and her bosom-friend Agatha Deken elaborated on this theme in their second novel in epistolary form, ‘The History of Mr William Lively’ [Historie van den heer Willem Leevend, 8 vols., 1784-1785]. The principal character of this novel, William, is a young patrician who reads in theology. Unlike the aforementioned young man, he himself had chosen this career. When his aunt hears of his decision, she is amazed, but pleased:

At present, many young men are forced to it by their Parents; others are persuaded to it by [their own] conceit and laziness. Hence this legion of miserable Sermon-makers; who are as far beneath the true Minister, as the poetasters [are] beneath the poets. Many of these

32Liefsting, Gedachten, p. iii.33Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 68.34Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 66.35Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 67.36Elisabeth (‘Betje’) Wolff-Bekker (1738-1804), married a much older Reformed minister, published some didactical poems (1763), polemical writings and satyrical poems, e.g. De menuet en de dominees pruik [The Minuet and the Parson’s Whig], 1772), in which she ridiculed strict Calvinists. After her husband’s death (1777), she worked and lived with her bosom friend Agatha (‘Aagje’) Deken. Together they wrote (in epistolary form) the first Dutch novel: Historie van Mejuffrouw Sara Burgerhart [The History of Miss Sarah Civilheart, 1782], soon followed by Historie van den heer Willem Leevend [The History of Mr William Lively, 1784-1785], Cornelia Wildschut, of, de gevolgen der opvoeding [Cornelia Wildschut or the consequences of education, 1793-1796] and many other works. See G.P.M. Knuvelder, Handboek tot de geschiedenis der Nederlandse letterkunde, vol. 3, 5th ed. (Den Bosch, 1973), pp. 190-205.37Wolff-Bekker, Elisabeth, "Dominé worden" [ca. 1768], in Losse proza-stukken en brieven, ed. J. van Vloten (Schiedam, 1866), 199-205.


youngsters do not even themselves rightly understand the System [of dogma’s] they are supposed to defend. Many betray their common education, and untrained mind, by base language of the street, by insupportable conceit, and reprehensible insubordination, by boasting of their thousands.38

Unfortunately, William, too, would prove to be unfit for the ministry: he was so ‘lively’ that he – be it by accident – killed a man who had assaulted his girl. His choice of a profession had been foolish, then, but honourable, for it had not been inspired by ‘conceit’, ‘laziness’ or any such dishonest motives. What William lacked was good sense, certainly not sensibility. Moreover, his decision to read in theology had been an authentic one; it had not been prompted by his father or, even worse, his mother.

5. Clergy from the cradleIn eighteenth and nineteenth century discourse, the authenticity of ministers’ vocation was often called in question by suggesting that rather than the will of God they had obeyed the will of their parents. In a humorous sketch of Dutch college-life, published in 1847, various examples were given of such false inspiration:

Who will be ministers [predikant]? Those who feel a vocation for that office, is the pious answer, but pious and orthodox

as it may be, this is not quite true. This one will be a minister, because his parents said, while he was only in the cradle: he shall be a parson [dominé]; that one because his oldest brother works in his father’s business, and one does not know what to do with him; a third one because his father is a rich bourgeois who wants to have a dignified [345] son, and cannot think of anything more dignified than a parson; of: the fourth are parsons’ sons who receive grants and bursaries, and therefore can do nothing more profitable than read in theology, and, finally, those who like to play the student, and whose parents did not want to make them lawyers, physicians or men of letters.39

Similar suspicions were expressed in serious, theological treatises. In his handbook of practical theology, Willem Muurling criticised “...the lack of wisdom and foolishness of parents and educators, who destine their children to the service of the Gospel without asking if the child has [the] disposition, inclination, and ability for this.”40 Before him, in a posthumously published essay ‘On preparation for the ministry’, Jodocus Heringa had criticised “...the immoral determination of many Ministers to dedicate their children to the service of the Church, for no other reason than that they themselves or their ancestors or many in their lineage were trained for it.”41 Such reverend fathers and considerably less reverend mothers did the church (“and society, yes their children, and themselves”) a bad service, Heringa wrote, for the result of this was...

...that the church [gemeente] is burdened with unfit Overseers [Opzieners, after the Greek episkopoi], that the cure of immortal souls is entrusted to the ignorant and negligent; and that the highest interests of the kingdom of our Redeemer are sacrificed to the ambition, the indolence and the greed [de vadzigheid en den broodhonger] of some lazy servants who are

38Elisabeth Wolff-Bekker & Agatha Deken, De Historie van den Heer Willem Leevend, vol. 6 ('s-Gravenhage 1785), letter 11; cf. 1 Sam. 18:7b ‘Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.’39J. de Vries, Na het studenten-leven. Typen. Een vervolg op Klikspaan’s studenten-typen (Amsterdam, 1847), p. 63.40Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, p. 116.41Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 4.2., p. 9. Heringa’s parents had opposed his plan to read in theology. They wanted him to become a surgeon (like his father had been) or doctor.


not called by CHRIST JESUS...42

Incidentally,, Van Oosterzee’s, Muurling’s and Heringa’s criticism seems to stem from a long tradition. Parents pushing their sons to become clergymen had been denounced in the early eighteenth century already, e.g. in Ravesteyn’s God’s Nazarite equipped for Holy Orders. As the title of this voluminous treatise indicated, the author did not disapprove of the parents’ desire to breed their sons for the ministry. If their motives were pious instead of self-interested, this was even commendable. In the very first chapter, Ravesteyn therefore discussed “the Duties of Parents in Raising their Children, primarily in settling and preparing them for Holy Orders.” First of all, parents should assess if their son shows signs of ‘super-natural grace’, like “an uncommon morality, and docility, and an exceptional Love and Esteem of Religion”. Then, they [346] should try to foster these qualities, by praying for him every day, by teaching him appropriate morning and evening prayers, and by taking him to church or to religious meetings.43 Moreover, parents should ascertain that their boy is more inclined to this profession than to any other career, and that he possesses all the required capacities. To this end, they would be well advised to consult “experienced and pious Ministers and capable Schoolmasters”. On the other hand, Ravesteyn severely condemned parents who – “without depending on the Lord, as if they themselves rule the world” – insist on having their sons ordained. If the latter do not have a mind for taking up holy orders, their parents persuade them by pointing out the social, material benefits of it:

They often hold out to them [the prospect] that they, by earning a good wage, will be able to live decently, and that many [clergymen] often succeed in marrying well, etc. And thus such Parents foster pride, they excite avarice, and fuel many vile desires, and thus they make their children loose Students, conceited Preachers, pursuers of idle honour, hunters after the Mammon: in short, no faithful shepherds and diligent pastors [zielzorgers], but dissembling hirelings, blind watchmen, yes dumb dogs, who cannot bark.44

Examples of such impious parental pressure, Ravesteyn explained, were mainly to be found among people with “little standing and a straitened worldly state”. Other eighteenth and nineteenth century authors agreed with this: inauthentic, improper, self-interested motives for desiring ordination were generally ascribed to the lower classes. The image of a young theologian who had not given ear to a divine call, but had given in to the ambitions of his parents – his mother in particular – was no less than an eighteenth and nineteenth-century literary topos, expressing dissatisfaction with the class background of the clergy.

6. Social closureCompared to their fellow students in other branches of science, Dutch divinity students had always been of relatively humble descent. Many of them came from middle class or lower-middle class families. Thanks to a variety of scholarships and grants for future clergymen, reading [347] in theology was the academic route to social ascent. One of the disadvantages of this recruitment pattern was that the family backgrounds of clergymen added little to their professional prestige.45

42Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 4.2., p. 2; cf. p. 9.43Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 14.44Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 8.45Van Rooden, "Stand" (see above, n. 2); cf. Willem Th.M. Frijhoff, La société néerlandaise et ses gradués, 1575-1814. Une recherche sérielle sur le statut des intellectuels à partir des registres universitaires (Amsterdam, 1981); Willem Otterspeer, ‘De wiekslag van hun geest’. De Leidse universiteit in de negentiende eeuw (The Hague, 1992); David J. Bos, ‘"De Loga wordt apart gezet." Theologanten in de negentiende-eeuwse studentensamenleving’, Amsterdams Sociologisch Tijdschrift, 23 (1997), pp. 665-708; cf. Anthony J. La Vopa, Grace, Talent, and Merit. Poor students, clerical careers and professional ideology in eighteenth-century Germany (Cambridge, 1988).


Since the early eighteenth century, much had been written on the social stature of the clergy. Authors of ‘spectatorial’ essays had criticised the incompetence of ministers, and their lack of profitableness to society. According to many observers, this was owing to the defective system of recruitment, education and selection for the ministry. Due to the availability of so many scholarships or grants, they argued, the clergy attracted adventurers: young or even middle-aged men who were mainly motivated by dissatisfaction with their present station in life.

A noteworthy example of this allegation is a satire, published in 1737: Pseudo-Studiosus hodiernus [The present-day pseudo-student]. This anonymous booklet is generally ascribed to Petrus Hofstede, who was a student in theology at Groningen University until 1737, when he was expelled.46 According to the author, this university’s Faculty of Theology was overrun by former peasants, blacksmiths, tailors, button makers and the like – all lacking each of the qualities a minister should possess. For example, he “must be animated by a generous and courageous disposition”, Hofstede wrote:

“But what noble-mindedness can there be in a man, who has no right idea of the dignity, the excellence of his ministry, [a man] who for forty years [348] did nothing but grubbing in the dung, or carrying bags to the mill, like a donkey...?47

Before enrolling as a student in theology, one should seriously ask oneself if one was fit for the ministry. Secondly, one should “ransack one’s heart of hearts, and, Argus-eyed, try to find out just what makes one desire to become a Nazarite of God”. Thirdly, one should consider one’s descent, and assess if one could afford to stay at university for at least seven years. Needless to say, the author was convinced that none of these failed craftsmen had asked himself any of these questions.48

In the later eighteenth century, the recruitment pattern denounced by Hofstede and many others was abandoned: the lower classes were discouraged, whereas the middle and upper-middle classes (including the clergy itself) were stimulated to choose a clerical career.49 Liefsting pointed out – as mentioned before – that a craftsman with a lot of human understanding could make an excellent minister, but most other authors suggested that one could not do without a certain class level.50 According to Boers, aspirants should ask themselves not only if they had received the required talents, but also if God had “opened and facilitated the road”.51 Such objective indications of divine predestination or providence should be taken more seriously than subjective signs of calling:

They who lack the required ability and capacity, – or who have been placed in such circumstances that the costs of beginning and continuing the required literary training exceed their possessions, and who can not rely on contributions by others, must therefore conclude

46Petrus Hofstede (1716-1803); son of a Reformed minister of religion; student in theology at Groningen University and, from 1737 until 1739, at Franeker Univeristy. Reformed minister pastor in one village, in two province towns, and, ultimately, in Rotterdam 1749. Hofstede was a famous polemicist, an Orangist and a celebrated preacher. As a student, he published, under the pseudonym ‘R.L.O.R.S. Sanctae Theologiae Studious', Pseudo-Studiosus hodiernus sive Theologus Groninganus detectus et refutatus. Dat is: Hedendaagsche Naam-Student of Groninger Godsgeleerde ontdekt en wederlegt (Leeuwarden, 1737). See R.A. Bosch, art. "Petrus Hofstede", BLGNP, 4, pp. 206-208; S.D. van Veen, "Iets over de studie der theologie te Groningen in de eerste helft der achttiende eeuw", in Historische avonden (Groningen, 1896); reprint in Historische studiën en schetsen (Groningen, 1905), pp. 481-503.47Hofstede, Pseudo-Studiosus, p. 25.48Hofstede's satire seems a reaction to Ravesteyn's Nazarite, which had been published a few years earlier.49Van Rooden, "Stand" (see above, n. 2).50Konijnenburg reminded his readers that once, ‘simple Fishermen’ had been able to rise to great heights (Lessen, p. 79), but on the other hand, he wrote “...that it is a foolish idea to think a common craftsman, without steeled exercise, capable of holding the office of Minister [Leeraar]...’ (Lessen, p. 66).51Boers, Handboek, § 2.


that they, whatever desire for Holy Orders they think to perceive within themselves, are not called by God.’52 [349]

The efforts of these and other clergymen to change the social composition of their profession seem to have produced the desired effect. In the nineteenth-century, the average student in theology still came from less wealthy families than students in other branches,53 but the class difference was considerably smaller than it had been. This seems to have encouraged young theologians to socialise with others: whereas seventeenth and eighteenth century divinity students had kept aloof from other students, they now eagerly participated in student fraternities.54 Their integration into college life at large was facilitated also by a drastic reorganisation of their university training.

Until the early nineteenth century, even though ministers were expected to be university trained, the vast majority of them were not university graduates. In order to be ordained, they had to pass examination not by the Faculty of Theology, but by the church – the regional church council [classis]. Allegedly, some of these councils passed candidates – like the Pseudo-studiosi denounced by Hofstede – who had been at university for only a few years.

State intervention put an end to this: shortly after his enthronement, King William reorganised both the Reformed Church and the Dutch universities. In 1816, for the first time in two centuries, a ‘general’ (i.e. national) synod of the Netherlands Reformed Church assembled. In his opening address, the King’s minister of ‘Public Worship’ gave the members a clear instruction:

In the first place, your main purpose shall be to protect the church – by regulating the examination – from those who illegitimately, without having been equipped with the required knowledge and skills, attempt to rise to the honourable state of minister. The reformed clergy must form a circle of respectable men on whose knowledge, wisdom and piety the church can rely.55

The regulations mentioned in this speech had already been drawn up, by the orator. They were in perfect harmony with the 1815 Higher Education Act, which stipulated that all candidates for the ministry in the Reformed (or the Lutheran56) Church would have to [350] undergo an academic examination. Henceforth, admittance to the final, ecclesiastical examination would be restricted to candidates with a bachelor’s degree in divinity. Consequently, the Church’s examiners lost some of their power: they could no longer candidates who had no or hardly any university education, nor could they refuse a candidate without challenging the judgement of the professors of theology, who had already let him pass the academic exam.57 From now on, admittance to Holy Orders was largely controlled by the Faculties of Theology.58

52Boers, Handboek, p. 3. Among the indications of ‘divine destination’ for the ministry, Heringa mentioned: having parents who can pay for one’s education ("Voorbereiding", Raadvrager, vol. 4.2., pp. 3-4).53Otterspeer, Wiekslag, p. 420.54See Bos, "Loga".55"Aanspraak van den Commissaris-Generaal d.d. 3 juli 1816", in Documenta Reformatoria, vol. 2 (Kampen, 1962), p. 112. The 1816 ‘constitution’ of the Netherlands Reformed Church stipulated: ‘In particular, the Synod draws up regulations concerning the admission and examination of those who are destined for teaching...’ (Algemeen Reglement, 1816, art. 24).56In 1818, the government reorganised the Lutheran Church in a similar way. See P. Estié, De stichting van een kerkgenootschap. Ontstaan en aanvaarding van het Algemeen Reglement van 1818 voor het bestuur de Evangelisch-Lutherse Kerk in het Koninkrijk der Nederlanden (Amsterdam, 1982).57Moreover, from 1816 onwards, the ecclesiastical examination of future ministers was no longer in the hands of the classis (in which all a region’s ministers held seats) but in the hands of the ‘provincial church councils’, which were composed of a small number of prominent clergymen. As a result, the vast majority of ministers no longer had a say in the admission of new colleagues. See Bos, Dienst, pp. 97-10158Their position was also strengthened by the 1816 reorganisation of the Reformed Church. Whereas the Synod of this


Moreover, the curriculum of the university training of future Reformed (and Lutheran) ministers had been revised and given a much wider scope. Henceforth, every freshman in theology would have to start with introductory courses in the Faculty of Arts, comprising lectures in Dutch literature, general history, logic, mathematics, and even agronomics. Such broad propaedeutics in the humanities (which were also mandatory for law students) brought them into closer contact with fellow students in other branches.

The shift in the recruitment of clergymen, the changes in their university training, and the integration of theologians into college life went hand in hand with a new form of social identification. Nineteenth-century Dutch, Protestant theologians expressed a relatively new social identity. Central to their self-perception (their idea of what they were, or should be, to Dutch society) was not that they had taken up Holy Orders, but rather that they were university graduates or – as it was called in the first half of the century – literary men [letterkundigen]. Theologians regarded themselves, and were recognised by others, as [351] members of ‘the cultured class’ [de beschaafde stand], the social stratum that set the tone in the young Kingdom of the Netherlands.59

This is especially evident in Dutch literature: in the 1840s, 1850s and 1860s, this field was dominated by so-called ‘reverend poets’ and other theologians with poetic inclinations.60 On the other hand, the clergy’s new social identity also accounts for the absence of a type of literature: in the 1820s, 1830s and 1840s relatively little originally Dutch treatises on the particularities of clerical office were published.61 This scarcity should not be regarded as a sign of weakness or insecurity. On the contrary, now that ministers – whether Reformed, Remonstrant-Reformed, Lutheran or Mennonite – were recognised as men of letters, they had less need for a specifically theological or ecclesiastical discourse on their profession. They rather conceptualised the nature of their office in terms of a relatively new, general cultural ideal: eloquence.

7. Eloquence and nation-building In the Netherlands, oratorical powers had been valued of old, especially by gownsmen, but the first chair of ‘Dutch eloquence’ was not established until 1797. The first professor, Matthijs Siegenbeek, was not a literary man, but a 23 years old Mennonite minister.62 On the face of it, his inaugural

Church had no say in the appointment of professors of theology, and the latter no longer had to subscribe to the ‘formularies of unity’, the Faculties of Theology in Leyden, Utrecht and Groningen each held a seat in the General Synod. See Bos, Dienst, p. 134, pp. 296-301. In nineteenth-century Germany (Prussia in particular), the relationship between church and university was similar; see Oliver Janz, Bürger besonderer Art. Evangelisch Pfarrer in Preußen, 1850-1914 (Berlin, 1994), p. 143.59David J. Bos, "University Education as a Mark of Ministerial Identity in Nineteenth Century Dutch Protestantism", in: Religious Identity and the Problem of Historical Foundation. The Foundational Character of Authoritative Texts and Traditions in the History of Christianity, ed. Judith Frishman, Willemien Otten & Gerard Rouwhorst (Leiden, forthcoming).60David J. Bos, "Dienaren des Woords. Godgeleerden in de negentiende-eeuwse Nederlandse letterkunde", De Negentiende Eeuw 21 (1997), 153-182.61Two important exceptions were the above-mentioned handbook by Boers (1807, 2nd ed. 1802) and the journal-like series edited by Heringa (1821-1843). In addition, Dutch editions of foreign handbooks were published, e.g. J.J. Spalding, Praktikale aanmerkingen over de uitoefening van het werk van eenen Evangeliedienaar, ed. A. Goedkoop (Haarlem, 1815); L. Hüffell, Het protestantsch leeraarsambt in deszelfs ganschen omvang; ed. J. Busch Keiser; (Groningen, 1835-1837), C. Harms, Het wezen en het werk van den Evangeliedienaar; ed. W. Verweij (Haarlem, 1845), and I. Busch Keiser, Predikanten-spiegel. Mededeelingen uit het ambtsleven van predikanten, volgens de Evangelische Pastoral-Theologie in Beispielen van M.J.C.Fr. Burk (Groningen, 1855). A handbook of Dutch origin on ‘practical theology’ was not published until the 1850s: W. Muurling, Practische Godgeleerdheid. Beschouwing van de Evangeliebediening voornamelijk in de Nederlandsche Hervormde Kerk (Groningen, 1851-1857).62See S.B.J. Zilverberg, art. "Matthijs Siegenbeek", BLGNP, 1, pp. 341-342; see also Matthys Siegenbeek,


address seemed to bear witness to this clerical background. [352]Traditionally, three major forms of eloquence had been distinguished: the political, the

judicial and a third form, associated with poetry (and reciting it), prose, drama, or historiography. Siegenbeek, however, mentioned three societal occasions for elocution, three ‘training-schools of eloquence’: the courtroom, parliament and the pulpit, ‘the public chair of Religion and virtue’. This was more than a tribute to his previous profession. By mentioning parsons instead of poets, prosaists and the like, Siegenbeek tried to show that eloquence was not merely sophisticated or entertaining, but useful to society.63 As the young professor (and many authors after him) saw it, eloquence was closely connected with a project that was to dominate Dutch public life until the middle of the nineteenth century: nation building. Not accidentally, Siegenbeek’s chair had been established shortly after the 1795 revolution. Now that the Netherlands had been ‘reinvented’ as a unitary state, the Dutch people had to be culturally, linguistically and morally integrated into their new, good old fatherland.64 The ‘cultured class’ was expected to play a leading role in this project.

Ministers seemed even to the manner born. Beside outnumbering other university graduates (on the average, one out of three Dutch students read in theology), they had a larger, and more diverse audience than any other professionals of public speech. Secondly, the clergy covered the country: whereas only one out of four lawyers or physicians lived and worked in a village, the countryside was the habitat of three out of four clergymen.65 Thirdly, the ministry was a less ‘parochial’ and more ‘national’ profession than it had been. Since the later eighteenth century, it was customary that a parson’s career led from one parish (in one province) to the other.66 In the nineteenth [353] century, this national orientation was enhanced by state intervention in the Protestant churches. For one thing, the vast majority of Dutch ministers of religion (including the dissenters of old) received the lion’s share of their salary directly from the national public treasury. This ‘state salary’, introduced in the early 1800s, had made them much less dependent on the local elites that administered the ‘spiritual funds’ at the time of the Republic.

In imitation of Siegenbeek, virtually all early nineteenth-century authors in this field counted preachers among the most important practitioners of eloquence. In their handbooks, essays and (of course) speeches, they paid special attention to so-called ‘sacred’ or ‘pulpit-eloquence’.67 Beside

Redevoering over het openbaar onderwijs in de Nederduitsche welsprekendheid [1797], ed. K. Korevaart (Hilversum, 1997); cf. Ellen Sjoer, Lessen over welsprekendheid. Een typering van de retorica's van de eerste hoogleraren in de vaderlandse welsprekendheid in de Noordelijke Nederlanden (1797-1853) [thesis Rijksuniversiteit Leiden] (Amsterdam, 1996).63In Siegenbeeks’ view, the three occasions he mentioned attested to ‘...the usefulness of an institution [viz. his chair, djb] that must tend to educate our fellow-countrymen [landgenoten] to eloquence...’ (Siegenbeek, Redevoering, p. 23). Interestingly, this phrase suggests that eloquence should be taught to all citizens, not just to members of ‘the cultured class’.64N.C.F. van Sas, "Vaderlandsliefde, nationalisme en vaderlands gevoel in Nederland, 1770-1813", Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 102, (1989), 471-495.65Bos, Dienst, p. 124.66Van Rooden, "Stand" (see above. n. 2).67N.N., Eenige denkbeelden over het gevoel voor het schoone en eene beschouwing van deszelfs invloed op de kunst der uiterlijke welsprekendheid (Leyden, 1834); J. Bake, Redevoering ten betoge dat de welsprekendheid ten onregte onder de kunsten gerangschikt wordt (Leyden, 1836); J.C. Bousquet, Verhandeling over de vraag "in welke opzigten de welsprekendheid en de poëzij onderling verschillen" (Amsterdam, 1826); J. Clarisse, Voorlezingen over de uiterlijke kanselwelsprkendheid volgens J. Lodew. Ewald (Arnhem 1839, orig. 1814); J.J. Eschenburg, Handboek der dichtkunde en welsprekendheid, ed. N.G. van Kampen (Zutphen, 1833); Abm. des Amorie van der Hoeven, Joannes Chrysostomus, voornamelijk beschouwd als voorbeeld van ware kansel-welsprekendheid (Delft, 1825); N.G. van Kampen, Verhandeling over de vraag "Welk is het wezenlijk kenmerkend onderscheid der Welsprekendheid van den Kansel, van de Pleitzaal, van de Raadsvergadering en van de Gehoorzaal" [etc.] (s.l., 1831); J.H. van der Palm, "Verhandeling over


allotting clergymen a new function in society, they thereby granted them a new social position. For eloquence was thought to be much more than a technique of ‘public speech’; it was not merely about how an orator should speech – how to use one’s voice, one’s hands, and one’s facial expression – but about the way he should be. As one author saw it, rather than a technique or even an art, eloquence was a ‘virtue’ or even a ‘duty’ – an expression of moral and intellectual qualities:

...true eloquence does not consist in a certain dexterity , and actually cannot be called an art, leave alone a science. It cannot have a distinct and separate school, because it is neither to be found in style (which is nothing more than manner) nor in any artifice one can learn or borrow from others; in one word, it can no more belong to the encyclopaedia [of sciences] than virtue and human dignity.68 [354]

Discourse on eloquence, then, was essentially about habitus, as Pierre Bourdieu would call it: the attitude all true members of ‘the cultured class’ were thought to have in common. The invention of ‘pulpit eloquence’ indicates that ministers, too, were now recognised as members of this class: they were reckoned among the political and cultural elite that was to set the tone in Dutch society.

8. MemoryIn view of the value attached to eloquence, early nineteenth-century authors paid surprisingly little attention to a mental faculty that previous generations had regarded as a prerequisite for being a successful clergyman: having a strong memory. Until then, it had went almost without saying that ministers needed this, for they were expected not to read their sermons, but to say them by heart. This required a lot from the preacher, because far into the nineteenth century, the average Reformed sermon lasted about one hour – much longer than in England, Germany, Denmark or Sweden. If a minister was talented, or impudent, or both, he could try to preach off-hand; if not, he had to write a sermon and then learn it by heart. A retentive memory came in handy, then.

Ravesteyn had mentioned this mental capacity as one of the prerequisites for the ministry: no one should read in theology unless he had ‘a quick and strong memory’. The importance of this was, first of all, that it enabled the young Nazarite to benefit from the education he got in school and, later, at university. Secondly, once he was ordained, it helped him to work efficiently: “If a Minister has a weak memory, he must spend too much time on memorising his sermons .” – time which apparently could be used for other, more useful purposes. Moreover, Ravesteyn argued, weakness of retentive memory was likely to harm the preacher’s performance:

Yes, one usually sees much diffidence in such [preachers]; they preach in a trembling and stammering way, and do not think of what they are saying, and how they are saying it, but of what they shall say, and thus this continuous exertion of their thoughts tires their minds and brains, and harms their health.69 [355]

Ravesteyn apparently tried to convince his readers that having a defective memory was not merely inconvenient, but that it undermined the core of a clergyman’s functioning: his (rhetorical, moral or intellectual) force of conviction and his (mental) health.

Later eighteenth and nineteenth century authors, however, paid very little attention to the importance of having a strong memory. This hardly comes as a surprise: from the end of the

den waren aard der welsprekendheid" [1818], in: Verhandelingen, redevoeringen en losse geschriften, vol. 1 (Amsterdam, 1818), pp. 40-86; J.M. Schrant, Fénélons gesprekken over de welsprekendheid in het algemeen en over die van den kansel in het bijzonder (Zalt-Bommel, 1829; orig. 1817); J.M. Schrant, Hoofregelen betreffende stijl en welsprekendheid, 2nd ed. (Leyden, 1856); P.S. Schull, De karakteristiek der welsprekendheid of de leer der kenmerken van de verschillende soorten van welsprekendheid (Dordrecht, 1830).68Bake, Redevoering, p. 167.69Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 12.


eighteenth century onwards, despite the objections of some of their parishioners, Dutch (Reformed) clergymen began to write out and read their sermons. The most famous early nineteenth-century Dutch (pulpit) orator, J.H. van der Palm (who was widely regarded as eloquence personified) read out all his sermons, lectures and addresses. One of the advantages of this was that immediately after delivering a sermon or speech, he could offer it for publication.70

Unlike most other nineteenth-century authors, Benthem Reddingius did think a retentive memory was a prerequisite. The reasons he mentioned, however, were quite different from the ones Ravesteyn and others had put forward. The ability to memorise and then recollect one’s own sermons seemed of secondary importance:

In the course of time, he visits all sorts of people, and in all sorts of cases he must educate, advise and govern [them]. How necessary, then, is it for him to remember the things he hears from others, [and the things] he himself experiences or reads, so that he can make appropriate use of [all] this. His memory must be a treasury of things old and new. The capacity of his memory must, by training, acquire an elevated quickness. This will also come in very handy for the basic instruction of the ignorant – and how many are the advantages of a Minister for composing and holding his public orations!71

Apparently, it was not so much for bridging the time space between writing a sermon and preaching it that a minister needed a strong memory, as for bridging the social and cultural distance (particularly perceptible in pastoral care and religious education) between the traditional, narrow world of his parishioners and the enlightened, civilised world he himself belonged to. A retentive memory was indispensable for a man whose vocation it was not only to incorporate cultural capital but also to disseminate it.[356]

9. The clerical bodyTraditionally, beside a strong memory, a strong voice had been regarded as a prerequisite. Ravesteyn for example pointed out that ‘a strong and piercing voice’ was needed for making oneself completely understood by all of one’s audience. This would keep parishioners from sleeping or from being distracted – if they had caught just a few snatches – by ‘strange and muddled ideas’. Ravesteyn described what timbre was most euphonious, understandable, agreeable, best suited for holding parishioners’ attention, and touching their hearts.72 He advised parents to train their children, and to have them take singing-lessons.

In later eighteenth and nineteenth-century discourse on the requirements for the ministry, surprisingly little attention was paid to the quality of the clergyman’s voice. If at all, this aspect was discussed in connection with his body. Apart from Liefsting, who focused on psychological disposition, all the aforementioned eighteenth and nineteenth-century authors agreed that a minister needed to be in good physical form.73 “If there is any position which requires a healthy and powerful body,” Muurling wrote, “it is the ministry [Evangeliebediening]. Moreover, whom suits a healthy mind in a healthy body better than a servant of CHRIST?”74 More than a century earlier, Ravesteyn had pointed out that a clergyman’s frame “...must be not disfigured, deformed, noticeably infirm, or

70Still, Van der Palm told his students not to read, nor to improvise their sermons. See Aart de Groot, Leven en arbeid van J.H. van der Palm (thesis Rijksuniversiteit Utrecht; Wageningen, 1960), p. 165.71Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 25.72Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 11.73See Peter van Rooden, "Ministerial Authority and Gender in Dutch Protestantism around 1800", in: Gender and the Christian Religion, Studies in Church History, vol. 34, 301-311; also at http://users.fmg.uva.nl/pvanrooden/publicaties/1998b.html74Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, pp. 120-121.


unhealthy, but well-made, fresh, strong, and healthy.”75 Instead of simply referring to Leviticus 21, authors put themselves to the trouble of explaining why bodily defects impeded ordination.

These explanations came down to two major arguments. On the one hand, defects, deformities and disfigurements diverted people’s attention from the contents of a clergyman’s teachings, and put him at risk of being despised. As Ravesteyn explained, “eyes are fixed” [357] upon ministers, “sometimes not without strong emotions”, and therefore they “...ought to be free of external deformities which could be offensive, or harmful to the strong imaginations of other people (women especially) or ridiculous to some...”76 Nineteenth-century authors, too, intimated that preventing despise or disgust was vital. Van Oosterzee, for example, wrote:

Many things can be covered up by the gown, and many things can be changed or cleared away by persistent effort and exercise, but as a rule it is highly desirable that one’s outward appearance does not have anything inconvenient or repelling [...] Insurmountable organic defects that hinder a worthy ministry [bediening] of the Word must be regarded as an indication of Providence that our vocation lies in a different field.77

On the other hand, a minister had to be in good shape in view of the wide extent of his duties, the weariness, discomforts or hardships with which his work was attended, both in the countryside and in the cities,“...because it is a weighty employment, in which one has to be diligently at work, night and day, timely and untimely...”.78 By stipulating physical requirements, authors made it clear that the ministry was anything but a sinecure. Moreover, these references to the minister’s body served to call attention to some of his activities that were less known than his performance as a preacher. Just as in his discussion of memory, Benthem Reddingius emphasised the relevance of physical fitness to the cure of souls:

A healthy body is necessary for him to be able to call in on all sorts of sick people – to visit his Parish in all seasons – to present his sermons with earnestness and strength – to show the required cheerfulness, zest, and deliberation. It is necessary, then, that a Minister [Leeraar] seeks to keep and strengthen the health of his body, by moderation and prudence, and unfit for this weighty office are those who, as a result of a weak constitution, are not up to weariness, [who are] listless and depressed.79

Heringa implicitly did the same, by pointing out that a minister needed a hardy body, “...inured to weariness, hardships, and quick alternation of heat and cold, fresh and foul air.”80 This focus on pas-[358] toral duties explains why so little attention was paid to the clergyman’s voice: the authors of these treatises wanted to spotlight not just Sunday sermons but the complete body of everyday clerical activities.

How then could one keep in shape? Muurling gave the most elaborate advice. He recommended theologians to abstain “from all that strongly stimulates” (an expression suggesting temperance rather than teetotalism), to moderate their mental exertions, to engage in “free and cheerful exercise in the fresh air” or in gymnastics, and most of all, to avoid “...the secret sins of lust, that consume and destroy the best forces of both the body and the mind, and that do not easily

75Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 9; see also Konijnenburg, Lessen, p. 87; Benthem-Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 20; Boers, Handboek, p. 14; Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 1, pp. 77-78; Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, pp. 87-88, 115, 120-121; Van Oosterzee, Theologie, pp. 56-57.76Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 10; cf. Boers, Handboek, p. 14.77Van Oosterzee, Theologie, p. 56.78Boers, Handboek, p. 14; Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 1, pp. 77-78; Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, p. 88; Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 10.79Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 20.80Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 1, pp. 77-78.


let go of someone they once enslaved.”81 Similar, but more explicit warnings for addiction to the lusts of the flesh had been given before, by Heringa and by Konijnenburg. The latter had pointed out that the physical constitution of a future minister should be without external infirmities and free from

...that awful pestilence which drags thousands, in the prime of life, into the grave, and which destroys the mental faculties in a miserable way; I mean self-pollution: a disease, born of softened upbringing, and woefully transmitted in the primary schools, [a disease] against whose lethal poison a young man should always be on his guard, especially when avoiding it is still easy...82

With this dreadful vision, Konijnenburg (and other authors83) not only made clear how harmful abusing one’s genitals was, but also indicated how profound preparation for the ministry should be: it involved the most private parts of life.84

10. Good breedingIn eighteenth and nineteenth-century thought, the individual’s body was not conceptualised as something untouched by, or detached from social order. This explains why Van Oosterzee, immediately after discussing physical impediments for ordination, presented his view on the social background that was best for clergymen: [359]

...as a rule, it is desirable that they come neither from the upper, nor from the lowest circles, but preferably from the middle classes, where one usually finds the healthy and strong core of the Church [gemeente]. It is a pity that the upper classes themselves so often think that their sons are above serving the Church [de dienst der kerk], whereas the lowest [classes] not infrequently lack those indispensable forms of civilisation that are, not without reason, expected from a spiritual guide.85

Ravesteyn and Boers, too, directly passed on from the body to the class position of future ministers, but instead of their background they discussed their behaviour. According to Ravesteyn, proper manners or politeness was a prerequisite for ordination. “Ministers do not need to imitate all the manners of courtiers or to be masters of compliments,” he wrote, “...but a boorish rudeness and sloppiness is blameworthy as well [...] The politeness of a Minister must always be coupled with respectability and solemnity.86 Early nineteenth-century authors wholeheartedly agreed with this. Boers wrote that a minister must apply himself to acquiring a pleasant refinement and good manners, and according to Benthem Reddingius, a clergyman should show amicable talkativeness and refinement of manners: “Rudeness, stiffness, artificiality and quietness, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, rashness, impudence, and boldness do not become the Minister.”87

What was the importance of such good, easy manners? Why could a clergyman not do without them? According to Ravesteyn, a minister who lacked social skills easily became the object of ridicule and scorn. In particular, such a clergyman ran the risk of making himself disagreeable to

81Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, p. 120.82Konijnenburg, Lessen, p. 87.83Cf. Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 4.2., p. 57; Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, p. 126; Van Oosterzee, Theologie, pp. 63-64.84In La Volonté de Savoir, the first volume of his Histoire de la Sexualité (Paris, 1976; pp. 138-139), Michel Foucault suggested that the ‘war against onanism’ made part of a process ‘pédagogisation du sexe de l'enfant’.85Van Oosterzee, Theologie, p. 57.86Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 11.87Boers, Handboek, p. 15; Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 29.


“people of birth or esteem”, and thereby excluding himself from their circles.88 Boers, too, argued that politeness or good breeding was needed for associating with people of note, without exposing oneself – and the ministry, or even the Gospel – to their “disdain and unfavourable bias”.89 According to Benthem Reddingius, however, good form was also needed for reaching the lower classes: “...if people, who are sensuous for the most part, are pleased with the outward appearance and the company of the Minister [Leeraar],[360] his instruction and advice will have much more good effects on them.”90 Ravesteyn advised parents to give their children capable teachers, and to train them in civil politeness and good breeding.91 Muurling, too, thought that education was crucial, but what he had in mind was something much more encompassing than training in etiquette. Many a minister lacked “the manners and ease required for associating with educated people”, he wrote, because of deficiencies in his “raising to true humanity”,

...that development, civilisation, and ennoblement of mind, spirit, and heart which [...] must adorn every Christian and must characterise a servant of Christ more than anyone else.[...] As a servant and locum tenens of CHRIST, the perfect man after God’s image, he may not be second in true civilisation, but must rather be the type of true humanity in the centre of the Parish [Gemeente], not for some, but for all.92

This cultivation should begin long before one went to college, with studying languages and sciences, reading and memorising masterpieces of poetry or prose, and practising arts like drawing,93 music and recitation. “He who wants to be a good Student, must not only be a capable and well-behaved, but also a cultured youngster,” Muurling wrote, “At University, much, but not everything can be repaired.”94 On the basis of this general education, a student in theology could be made a “scientifically independent Christian”, not only by lectures and exams, but by all of college life, e.g., “living apart from one’s parents”, “enjoying art”, “moving in civilised circles”, and “socialising with other students”.95

Muurling was not the first to emphasise the importance of socialising. In the early 1800s, Konijnenburg had concluded his Lessons by urging young theologians not to lead an unworldly, secluded, exclusively spiritual or intellectual life:

Freely enjoy the pleasures of an age at which nature shines in its most graceful shape, [an age] at which everything smiles upon you, and the unrest of this life does not yet worry you. Choose yourself a small circle of good Friends, to find food for your heart! Let [social] intercourse with the graceful Sex relax [361] your reading. It will form your taste and your heart, [and] will more than outweigh the leave of absence from your study. Take part in public recreations that are seemly in the eyes of sensible and honest men. By all means, go to the Theatre, a school where you can learn very much.96

88Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 11.89Boers, Handboek, p. 15. Besides, Boers explained, politeness and good manners ensured ‘a good posture on the Pulpit'. 90Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 29.91Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 11.92Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, p. 121.93See also N.N., "De teeken- en schilderkunst nuttig voor den uitlegger der Heiligen Schrift", Christelijk Maandschrift voor den Beschaafden Stand, 1 (1822), p. 113.94Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, pp. 120-121.95Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, pp. 122, 127-128.96Konijnenburg, Lessen, p. 105; cf. Heringa, "Voorbereiding", Raadvrager, vol. 4.2, p. 97; Van Oosterzee, Theologie, p. 65.


A decade earlier, Liefting had explained that by going into company, one lost one’s “stiffness”, and gained “an easy attitude, which makes a man agreeable”, “that flexibility one can only acquire by associating with people”.97 In his view, however, socialising not only served learning good manners; it also offered opportunities to gain vital insights.

11. Knowledge of menAmong the natural talents required for ordination, Liefsting mentioned “sound human understanding” alias “common sense”. However learned a minister might be, if he lacked this basic quality, people would regard him as “...a simple know-nothing, who is learned in books, but ignorant of common life.” Liefsting went so far as to say that “The more common sense one has by nature, the more capable one is to be a teacher of the people.”98 Beside this general, innate disposition, a minister must possess “...knowledge of the world, knowledge of men, knowledge of society and the worldly manners and customs, [knowledge] of the courses of human action in various relations and stations.”99 If he lacked such practical, worldly knowledge, he not only ran the risk of making a fool of himself, but also of being fooled: “Ignorant of the world, he often becomes a puppet in the hands of others, and is open to deception in all sorts of situations. Not knowing how matters stand with people, he will often experience the unpleasant consequences of their nasty tricks.”100

By going into innocent company now and then, instead of completely losing himself in abstract ideas, a minister could learn what was going on in the world. Moreover, he should try to become a good judge of people by developing his knowledge of human nature.[362] If he knew how to recognise the specific temperament or character of individual parishioners, he could attune to it: “A minister is a shepherd of people; not two of them are alike, but each has his particular nature. Not all people can be guided for the best by the same treatment [...] He must know the countenance of his sheep, not only their spiritual state but, more importantly, their temperaments and characters”.101 Reading books was the proper way of obtaining such insight into human nature. Beside textbooks on the study of character, Liefsting recommended “innocent and well-written” novels, and history books. Studies in church history were particularly interesting, because they showed that religious dissent often stemmed from difference in “natural constitution”.102

Early nineteenth-century authors did not adopt Liefsting’s historical-psychological analysis of religious difference, but they agreed that knowledge of men was vital for becoming a good preacher, teacher, and – most of all – shepherd.103 This is more remarkable than it may seem. In the present-day (Dutch) church, it is unquestionable that a minister must be a good judge of people. Ravesteyn, however, had not mentioned this as a prerequisite for becoming a Nazarite (or as one of the virtues that should adorn the minister). Nor would Muurling and Van Oosterzee: not because they did not appreciate knowledge of men, but because they stood for a more methodological understanding of parishioners. As the sheer size of their handbooks indicated, practical theology was

97Liefsting, Gedachten, pp. 89-90.98Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 77.99Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 83.100Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 89.101Liefsting, Gedachten, pp. 84-85.102Liefsting, Gedachten, pp. 85-88.103Konijnenburg, Lessen, p. 99; Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, pp. 35-39, 139, 191; Boers, Handboek, pp. 5-6, 35; Heringa, Raadvrager, vol. 1, p. 128.


far from common sense.Liefsting and early nineteenth-century authors who did regard knowledge of men as a

prerequisite suggested various methods for obtaining it. Konijnenburg urged his students to go to the theatre (“a school where you can learn very much”), and to read novels like Wolff & Deken’s Sara Burgerhart and Willem Leevend. Boers indirectly recommended the works of Fielding, Richardson and Shakespeare, and suggested reading biographies, diaries, and even Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Confessions. Moreover, he advised every young minister to “...seriously observe himself and his own existence, [and] to attentively [363] but modestly examine the proceedings of other people, mainly with respect to their principles and intentions...”104 These two methods, introspection and participant observation, were also proposed by Benthem Reddingius, together with a third: “to aesthetically consider and reflect on the way in which our Saviour dealt with people”.105 Moreover, Benthem Reddingius pleaded for university lectures on “knowledge of men in various ranks, notably in the lower [ranks], and particularly in the countryside”.106

12. Gentleness and authorityAmong the requirements for ordination in the Reformed Church, “humility” and “modesty” had been emphasised of old. The ecclesiastical ordinances of the Synod of Dordrecht (1619) stipulated that these qualities were indispensable for candidates who lacked formal education.107 Though modesty and humility were traditional Christian virtues, this requirement seemed meant for preventing specific ills, e.g. curbing the ambitions of the lower classes. Ravesteyn pointed out that university-trained theologians, too, should look out for “pride” or “haughtiness”. There was no other mistake, he said, a young minister more easily fell into:

...his Ministry [Ampt], he knows, is excellent, he is a dispenser of Divine mysteries, he handles and administers the signs and seals of the King of Kings, and [he] is a key-bearer of the Kingdom of Heavens; so the dignity of his office [bediening] is beyond all worldly [offices], and he easily prides himself on it, especially if he, excelling others in knowledge, eloquence, and adorning talents, is applauded by many, which is something Satan can employ in order to seduce him to pride: so that he easily forgets to know himself, and fancies himself something grand...108

Pride, “which made Angels Devils and deprived man of his nobility and splendid origin”, had done the Church inconceivably much damage. Apparently, Ravesteyn referred to conflicts between dis[364] senting factions of ministers (the notorious rabies theologorum) or between politically outspoken clergymen and the public authorities. At the time of the Republic, such conflicts occurred very frequently. In order to avoid such unpleasantness, a minister should be humble and submissive, with himself, with God and men, and still stand up for the Gospel:

He must not be self-willed, but docile; not surly, but friendly and modest; He must not be spiteful or quarrelsome, but gentle and peaceable, and actually prove that he is an ambassador of peace, all the wile hating those who hate the Lord, and diligently but prudently resisting the enemies of truth and Religion, by practising truth in love.109

104Boers, Handboek, p. 5.105Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 36; see also p. 191.106Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 38; this indicates that ministers themselves came from an urban, middle-class background.107See Van Lieburg, in this volume.108Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 167.109Ravesteyn, Nasireer, p. 170.


Liefsting, too, urged it upon his readers to show “calmness of temper, combined with gentleness and tolerance regarding other people”.110 The reasons he mentioned for this requirement are revealing. A minister, Liefsting explained, “...has to deal not only with sensible and biddable people, but also with those who are stupid, immodest or head-strong...”111 Interestingly, Liefsting also referred to this difficulty (in almost the same words) to explain the prerequisite he mentioned in the first place – that a clergyman should stand firm in his shoes:

A minister must have strength of mind, which preserves him from fear of men, provides him with confidence in his doings, and enables him to do his work with appropriate frankness. The ministry is a public office [bediening], in which one has to speak in public, and in which one has to treat and govern all sorts of people. [...] Held with a timid attitude, even the most concise and sensible proposal will find far less acceptance, and will be listened to with far less pleasure than a senseless sermon, pronounced with an undaunted and confident attitude.112

Apparently, rather than being the complete opposite of self-confidence or firmness, patience or gentleness was a complementary expression of one and the same attitude. A minister who had the appropriate feeling of his own worth could remain patient, sedate, and cool-headed, even if he had to explain something over and over again, or if some parishioners (“who would rather dominate the minister than obey him; who enjoy contradicting him in a pedantic way”) tried to provoke him:[365]

In this respect, the same goes for people as for dogs, who bark after us, and who seem determined to bite us: if we resist them, try to hit them, make gestures in order to chase them away, or if we run from them in fear, they will bark all the more, and fly at us all the more fiercely, but if we proceed on our way, unafraid, without paying any attention to the barking behind us, then they will soon be silent, and return to their spots with their mouths shut.113

Liefsting’s explanations reveal another basic difference with Ravesteyn. Gentleness, modesty and the like were apparently not required for preventing conflicts with one’s peers or with one’s superiors, but for gracefully dealing with the opposition of one’s inferiors. According to Liefsting, such conflicts could not completely be avoided. “It is absolutely impossible to please all,” he wrote, “...people with little understanding cannot but misjudge the value of a minister’s work...”114

Benthem Reddingius, too, discussed gentleness as something relevant to the relationship with one’s subjects. As the minister was a shepherd, “...he must not domineer, not deal aggressively with Jesus’ congregation, but lead it gently.”115 Whereas Liefsting had recommended an imperturbable attitude, Benthem Reddingius advised ministers to take into consideration the powers, capacities and circumstances of his flock. It went without saying that these gifts were limited; parishioners’ level of civilisation was far below those of the ministers. For that very reason, however, a minister should not assert his superiority, but “...conform to these with love, gentleness and patience, without demanding that all his sheep will think, want, [and] act as he thinks, wants and chooses to act.”116 Implicitly, Benthem Reddingius suggested that such reticence was in accordance with the new social position of the Reformed Church and its clergy. A minister should prevent being accused of behaving like a functionary of the “formerly ruling” Church: “It is true, he has some

110Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 73.111Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 73.112Liefsting, Gedachten, pp. 71-72.113Liefsting, Gedachten, p. 74.114Liefsting, Gedachten, pp. 75-76.115Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 4.116Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 5.


authority [...] and his Parish is obliged to respect it [...] but he must exercise it with such love, with such wisdom, with such indulgence, that it does not show a trace of violence or ambition for power.”117[366]

On the other hand, Benthem Reddingius emphasised that a minister should not aim at pleasing his parishioners. If his mind was open to, or even dependent on the suggestions of other people, he was not fit to be a shepherd.118 A minister should never be afraid to contradict the errors, traditions and prejudices of his parishioners – even if this could lead to his being denounced as unorthodox. He should keep in mind, Benthem Reddingius said, “...that the Chair of Christianity, must always be considered sacred, and a chair of truth...”119 Boers, too, pointed out that a minister should demonstrate “gentleness and affability of heart” and “submissive humility” but, on the other hand, “spiritual ardour” and “persevering steadfastness and unflinching bravery”.120 These apparently contradictory demands could be reconciled, Benthem Reddingius suggested, not by steering a middle course, but by means of tact:

The Minister [Leeraar] must try to win people’s confidence, because without it, he cannot make himself useful among them, but he should not try to do so by means of cowardly and inappropriate indulgence, by embracing and propagating their errors. He should try to do so by means of love, friendliness, familiarity and faithfulness, – by amply talking to people about the things on which they agree with him, and also by preaching about those things, but by leaving their prejudices untouched until he has won their confidence. Only then should he tackle them [people’s prejudices], but not directly, so that he will not lose again their confidence.121

Rather than being moral virtues, gentleness and patience made part of a pastoral strategy, designed at winning parishioners’ confidence. In early nineteenth-century discourse on the ministry, this became one of the central themes: how to establish and maintain confidential relationships with one’s parishioners.122 [367]

13. ConclusionA distinctive feature of nineteenth-century Dutch Protestantism is its emphasis on the university training of clergymen. Both the Dutch Reformed Church and the dissenters of old (the Remonstrant-Reformed, the Lutherans, and eventually even the Mennonites) primarily expected their ministers of religion to be university graduates.123 Yet, as this analysis of early nineteenth-century handbooks and essays on the ministry shows, it was believed that for becoming a good enough pastor one needed many qualities one could not acquire by reading in theology. On the face of it, this discourse does not reveal much historical change: the authors discussed in this contribution hardly mentioned any new requirements. This lack of novelty is in itself remarkable, because many authors began their treatises with arguing that a reconsideration of the ministry was necessary in view of the profound social, cultural and political changes it was subject to. The way in which they explained these requirements was different, however. Generally speaking, they referred more and more to the social position of a minister – his relationships with parishioners and others. Managing these relationships

117Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 5.118Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 21.119Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 50.120Boers, Handboek, pp. 8-11; together with godliness, these were the required ‘qualities of the heart'.121Benthem Reddingius, Gedachten, p. 51.122Cf. Liefsting, Vervolg, pp. 91-103; Muurling, Godgeleerdheid, pp. 97-98.123Bos, ‘Education' (see above, n. 59); see also Broeyer, in this volume.


– for the benefit of higher purposes, of course – became the central theme in nineteenth-century discourse on the ministry. Much as was said about the personal qualities a minister needed in order to strike the right note, it was left an open question how one could acquire them. For the greater part, it was suggested, one should have sucked them in with one’s mother’s milk.

On the one hand, this emphasis on breeding rather than reading served to underscore the minister’s integrity: both his public and his private proceedings should stem not only from firm convictions or certain knowledge and skills, but from a habitus, so deeply rooted in his personality that he could not easily be suspected of pretending faith or concern. Moreover, by focussing on a minister’s internalised virtues, authors called attention to the intimate nature of the ministry – which was in accordance with the privatisation of religion, its relocation in the inner selves of believers.124 [368]

On the other hand, this emphasis served to underscore ministers’ social distinction. Many qualities required of ministers were obviously related to class. Whereas Van Ravesteyn had suggested ways in which parents could actually contribute to the all-embracing formation required of a clergyman, later eighteenth and nineteenth-century authors gave very few hints on how one could prepare oneself or one’s son for the ministry. Partly, this was because their publications belonged to a different genre, aimed at a different audience: Heringa, Muurling and Van Oosterzee wrote textbooks for professional theologians, whereas Van Ravesteyn had offered a handbook for a praxis pietatis that was open for laymen as well as clergy. It is not so clear what kind of audience Liefsting, Konijnenburg, Benthem Reddingius and Boers had in mind. It seems that they tried to impart their view on the ministry not only to their (future) peers, but also to parishioners, or society at large. In other words, their treatises seem to have made part of a public relations campaign: deliberate attempts to improve the image of the (Reformed) Church and its clergy.

This endeavour was propelled not only by competition between the Reformed Church and other denominations, or between clergy and other professionals, intellectuals or officials, but also by rivalry within the clergy. For humble village parsons like Liefsting and Benthem Reddingius, writing on pastoral reality was an opportunity to show that they were not inferior to urban clergy and university professors. Shortly after the Batavian Revolution, when the Reformed Church was disestablished and the Faculties of Theology were closed, their voices could carry far. After the rehabilitation of the Reformed Church, its clergy and professors, they were drowned by a discourse on eloquence that was anything but rural. In 1840s, when separation of Church and State was on the agenda again, village parsons regained force: in 1843, Rev. Cornelis Eliza van Koetsveld published his ‘Sketches from the Mastland Rectory. Earnestness and Mirth in the Life of a Dutch Village Parson’125, in which he showed that being eloquent and civilised was not good enough. The criticism in these humorous sketches – one of the best-known nineteenth-century Dutch novels – [369] was largely encapsulated by practical theology. But after the 1886 Doleantie, the second and decisive schism in the Netherlands Reformed Church, a new genre was born: from the 1890s until the 1960s, dozens of ministers expressed their view on what made a good enough parson.[370]

124See Van Rooden, "Stand" (see above, n. 2); idem, "Authority" (see above, n. 73); see also David Martin, "Crisis amongst the Professional Guardians of the Sacred", in A General Theory of Secularization (Oxford, 1978), 278-308.125 C.E. van Koetsveld, Schetsen uit de pastorie te Mastland. Ernst en luim uit het leven van den Nederlandschen dorpsleeraar (Nijmegen, 1843)

Documents

€¦ · Web viewDavid J. Bos, ‘A Good Enough Parson: Early Nineteenth-Century, Dutch Discourse on Requirements for the Pastoral Ministry in the Reformed Church’