Introduction: On Promoters of Religious Contact

1

There are identifiable factors in the history of religions that promote its dynamics, above all by promoting the emergence of situations of religious contact in which proponents of religious traditions meet. Trade is certainly one of the most eminent motivations, with merchants, manifesting economic interests, serving as its promotors. Still, there are others. Among these, political rulers displaying power over their subjects and forcing them by order into these situations—some of them in the most unlikely geographical locations—, are the most conspicuous. If the political aspect is combined with the military one in far-reaching campaigns, religious encounter is most likely to take place. Here, soldiers are the involuntary vessels, instruments and subjects of situations of religious contact. When it comes to phenomena of contact not only of individuals or small groups, but rather of considerable numbers of people of formerly distant religious traditions, some promoting element of this kind is surely to be found. As such, these forms of contact constitute a significant exception to the idea of a step-by-step spread of religious ideas, showing that on certain occasions, some geographical steps may be left out, allowing for the long-distance transmission of religious traditions that displays a particular kind of dynamics.

2

Charles XII (1682–1718), Sweden’s heroic but enigmatic and most disputed king, was the main promotor of religious contact that involved Swedes in early modern times. Though himself closely associated with the Lutheran orthodoxy of Sweden’s state religion, he paradoxically proved to be a great sponsor of its main opponent, Pietism (see Liljegren 2000, 204), and, with absolute power, ‘allowed’ (or rather, forced) his subjects to come into contact with Catholics, orthodox Christians, Muslims, and even Shamanic tribes; Charles himself had the opportunity of studying another religious tradition in detail during his five-year exile in the Ottoman Empire. This contribution is mainly concerned with the question why, of all places, Swedish Pietism flourished in an orthodox, Muslim and ‘pagan’ environment in distant Russia Siberia while back in Sweden it had been persecuted by the Swedish Lutheran Church and Sweden’s king alike. Here, interrelated processes of stabilizing and dynamizing religious traditions play a salient role.

3

Charles XII acted as a promotor involuntarily by failing to win the Great Northern War (1700–1721), and in particular the battle of Poltava (1709), for Sweden, thus causing a large number of Swedish soldiers and civilians from Sweden’s Baltic provinces to become prisoners of war and to be deported to Russian Siberia. About 30 000 civilians and soldiers, among them 2 300 officers, were held captive until 1721/1722. Only about 5 000 of them returned to their homeland, among them significantly more officers than private soldiers. The prisoners were distributed all over the country. A large number—about 800 people—were sent to the administrative and ecclesiastical capital city of Siberia, Tobolsk, where they founded a Swedish church and a school during the decade of their sojourn (see Montgomery 1995, 495).² They did so in a Pietist³ attitude, using concepts and ideas developed by Pietism’s main matador of that time, August Hermann Francke (1663–1727), who had famously founded an orphanage and a charity school that grew into an impressive social-educational institution (Franckesche Stiftungen),⁴ near the city of Halle.⁵ Ironically, having already forced the bloom of Pietism in Siberia, Charles XII posthumously also became the main promotor of the religious movement he rejected most severely in Sweden itself. For it was the Swedish prisoners of war who, returning from Siberia since 1722, “gave Swedish Pietism its second wind” (Green 2007, 63). But this was only one step taken in order to promote religious diversity in orthodox Lutheran Sweden. Charles himself had not been idle. Furthermore, returning from his exile in Bender, he had brought some Turks, Jews and Armenian Christians (who had claims to the state or single Swedes) to Sweden (see Findeisen 1992, 191).

4

One of these Soldiers of the Swedish army returning from Siberia is the German officer Curt Friedrich von Wreech, who published an eminent and exhaustive book on his and his comrades’ captivity. The first segment of the Baroque title of this book is Wahrhafftige und umständliche Historie von denen schwedischen Gefangenen in Rußland und Siberien, which could be translated as “Truthful and Circumstantial History of the Swedish prisoners in Russia and Siberia.” The book and the particular circumstances and significance of its emergence in the religious context of its time are the main subjects of the following lines. Like many of his comrades, Wreech was involuntarily presented with the unique opportunity that was previously undreamt of, i.e., the chance to come into contact with peoples, cultures, and, not at least, religions located thousands of miles away from his homeland. At the same time, his own religious beliefs underwent a profound change, accompanied by intense self-reflection. In contrast to a mere scholarly observer, he, being a prisoner of war, also had to deal practically with the contact situation.⁶

5

For Wreech personally, his Russian and Siberian experiences provided him with a spiritual rebirth,⁷ leading him to (Hallensian) Pietism that evolved and consolidated during his 13 years of imprisonment in Russia, of which he spent eleven in the Siberian capital, Tobolsk. Wreech describes his experience of conversion as follows:

6

As Captain Tabbert by Divine Providence has kept among his possessions Johann Arndt’s ‘Wahres Christentum’, Professor Francke’s festival sermons as well as his ‘Betrachtungen von Gnade und Wahrheit’ and ‘Christus der Kern der Heiligen Schrift’, I at once, with our arrival at Klinow, took Arndt’s ‘Wahres Christentum’ to my quarters and read it all the way through. To my unworthy self this was a very blessed reading. For the merciful and gracious GOD enlightened the eyes of my understanding more and more, so that I recognized my misery more and more profoundly and was, therefore, driven to many tears and much prayer. In sum, GOD the LORD converted me from darkness to his wonderful light.⁸

7

Reading the books mentioned here, especially given the circumstances the prisoners are in, is highly likely to promote the results as described by Wreech. Johann Arndt (1555–1621) may be considered the founding father (or, at least, major forefather) of Pietism as a religious movement and displayed a great impact as an author of edifying literature (Kaufmann 1998, 21). His most influential work Vier Bücher vom Wahren Christentum (1605–1610) emerged from his sermons and introduced mystical currents into protestant edifying writing. Arndt put great emphasis on repentance, the ‘crucifixion of the old creation’ via suffering. To be reborn in this way means to have changed completely in favor of an all-consuming love for God, which also turns towards one’s neighbor in humility, peacefulness, and gentleness (see Schmidt 1972, 20).⁹ Not at least, August Hermann Francke, having experienced a conversion in 1687, promoted a similar understanding of conversion and thoroughly changed his conduct of life afterwards.

8

To Wreech, the conversion experience that changed his existence and turned him towards his neighbors was the central event of his life. Little is known about his biography. Wreech probably either hailed from Pomeranian nobility, or from the (Brandenburgian) Neumark. He was supposedly born in 1680; however, in older literature one can also find the life data of his father Joachim Friedrich von Wreech (1650–1724), who was a general in the Prussian Army. In 1707, Curt Friedrich became captain in the (German) Albedyhl’s Dragoon regiment of the Swedish Army (see Wolke 2018, 91). In the same year, he married Johanna Juliane von Kottwitz. They had a son, Curt Joachim, who was born in 1708 and later joined the Latin School at Halle (where, in 1723, he became subject of an exchange of letters between Francke and his father for misconduct). Wreech, along with nearly the entire Dragoon regiment, was taken prisoner by the Russians on February 16, 1709, about four months prior to the decisive battle at Poltava.¹⁰ This made him an involuntary participant of Czar Peter’s triumphal procession in Moscow in December 1709, famously reported by Voltaire in his History of Charles XII. Having been ill for five months and suffering maltreatment from his captors (see Wreech 1728, 7–8), Wreech was first imprisoned in Zevsky, then in Klinow, and, finally, from 1711 onwards, in Tobolsk, where he remained for ten years until 1721.

9

In Klinow, caused by his converting reading experience, he underwent the experience of rebirth that became groundbreaking for his time in Siberia and for the rest of his life. Pietist rebirth emphasized the importance of outward action. At first, Wreech organized conventicle meetings at Tobolsk, where the writings of August Hermann Francke and Johann Arndt’s Wahres Christentum were commonly read and discussed (Pleijel 1935, 79; Wreech 1728, 122). He also co-founded an educational center: a school in the wake of the Franckesche Stiftungen at Halle which seems to have enjoyed some reputation, as even noble Russians sent their children there. The close connection to Francke in Halle was evident from the very beginning of his Siberian enterprise.¹¹ In 1713, Wreech and other officers wrote a letter to Francke thanking him for his spiritual and material support, especially through the provision of religious literature, to the prisoners (Wreech 1728, 33–38; Pleijel 1935, 80). Books were of major importance, as Halle displayed its influence in the Carolean army mainly via books (Laasonen 1998, 16; compare Wreech 1728, 251). Not only for this reason, reading ability was spiritually vital and proper teaching was required.¹² Wreech managed to buy a schoolhouse and to expand the school gradually, reaching a total of 128 pupils and teachers by 1720 (Wreech 1728, 802). When the school was closed in 1721, it still had 73 pupils and 20 educators (Winter 1953, 307). Returning from imprisonment in 1722, Wreech travelled, via Petersburg and Stockholm, back to Germany, where he visited Francke in Halle.¹³ Later, he became the private tutor of Count Johann Erdmann von Promnitz (1719–1785) at Sorau in Lower Lausitz (Wreech 1728, 852).¹⁴ It was during this time that his book was printed, first in 1725 and, finally, in a second revised and enhanced edition, in 1728. In the same year, he once again visited Stockholm. In 1735, he was still in Sorau. In the year 1736, he is reported to have met Count Zinzendorf and to have enrolled at a comparatively high age at the University of Halle to study law (though this might actually have been his son Curt Joachim). Having outlived August Hermann Francke by 30 years, Wreech died on September 22, 1757, approximately 40 years after another great promotor of Pietism, i.e., Charles XII.

The Interrelation of Dynamics and Stability in a Long-distance Situation of Contact

10

If Pietism is indeed the final attempt to maintain Protestant Christianity as a religion proper (see Bonhoeffer 1966, 258), then the examination of its various ways of promotion and its contacts is a matter of significant interest in Religious Studies.¹⁵ As the case of Wreech and his Tobolsk comrades shows, captivity of war provides the scholar interested in situations of religious contact with yet another significant example of “long-distance-transmission” (Zürcher 1999) of religious ideas—as opposed to gradual diffusion by near-contact expansion.¹⁶ The transmission was triggered and promoted as a result of decisions of the political authority. For this transmission, the formality of orthodox Lutheran faith and the Pietist economic, social and missionary networks of correspondence in Northern and Eastern Europe serve as catalysts. Therefore, it supplements the concept with additional aspects, i.e., on the one hand, the repercussion of religious ideas on their regions of origin. These repercussions are developed (or rather, intensified and solidified) through contact situations that occur at a distance. The connections to Siberia became two-directional ‘highways’ for the spread of Pietist ideas and practices. On the other hand, it contributes to the analysis of the forms of transmission, in this case Pietism travelling together with its interreligious opponent (orthodox Lutheranism) and using its formal aspects as a means of spreading and consolidating. Here, the journey back to its origin is exemplified through the trajectory of Hallensian Pietism alongside the orthodox-Lutheran Swedish army to Siberia, its rise and consolidation there, and its return to Sweden with the reawakened officers and soldiers, thus reimporting Pietist ideas to a strictly Lutheran country with a degree of intensity that exceeds mere gradual progression.

11

The dynamic interplay of intensifying stabilization and solidification processes in the case of Siberian Pietism and its environment¹⁷ is particularly noteworthy. This is especially true when considering the religious history of Sweden in the following centuries. The repercussion of (Siberian) Pietism to Sweden was highly influential, even extending to matters of state and politics.¹⁸ Its results are manifest in religious legislation. Though Pietism had previously already been subject of banishing edicts under Charles XI and Charles XII, with the return of the prisoners of war to their homeland, post-war Sweden after 1721 could not but promote yet another edict of banishment: the Act of Conventicles (Konventikelplakatet) from 1726.¹⁹ This parliamentary act of the Swedish ‘Age of Liberty’²⁰ forbids religious meetings, i.e., Pietist conventicles of any kind outside the Lutheran Church, except for family devotionals in sufficiently ordered (closed) spaces (see Ljungberg 2019, 44). The act imposed fines on participants and exiled organizers. It marked the first high-water point of the Church’s struggle, whose privileges had to be re-negotiated in the light of the new constitution (Ljungberg 2019, 34), against the Pietist movement. It was in effect for no less than 132 years until 1858 (Nordbäck 2004, 362). These gatherings of believers, where they engage in an edifying common reading of the Bible, expressing the idea of an ecclesiola in ecclesia as recommended in Philipp Jacob Spener’s Pia Desideria,²¹ are considered to be the major threat to the official church, not only in Sweden.²² Not least, the collegia or conventicles as an actually realized part of the Pietist reform program provided the layman with the opportunity of claiming their rights derived from the reformatory program as such, namely to learn and to discuss God’s Word without clerical mediation: within these gatherings, all participants had equal rights to criticize and to preach (Bellardi 1994, 7).

12

But even the far-reaching act from 1726 was not considered sufficient by the Lutheran orthodoxy to counter the Pietist peril. Soon after its issue, the Conventicle Act was even surpassed by a Diet of 1734, initiated by the later archbishop of Uppsala, Jacob Benzelius (1683–1747). This Diet prohibited all ‘godless doctrines,’ and was ultimately trumped by the ‘Decree on Religion’ from 1735 which allowed the state to take legal action if only the suspicion of heterodoxy was aroused (Nordbäck 2004, 55). As such, the post-war decrees show the continuity of Swedish religious rigorous inner policy. This policy remained unchanged during the period of absolutism (1680–1718) and into the early years of the Age of Liberty (1719–1772).²³ It severed the connection with Halle and inflicted severe damage on a more conservative, pro-Church Pietism (Montgomery 1995, 506–7)—but again, in turn, promoted the rise of a more radical form of Pietism.²⁴ It was manifested in the person of Johann Konrad Dippel (1673–1734),²⁵ who had earlier been arrested for criticizing the anti-pietist politics of Charles XII and who came to Sweden in 1726,²⁶ and in the person of Eric Tolstadius (1693–1759, see Nordbäck 2004, 263–68), the ‘Swedish Francke’ who also gained prominence in Finland (Laasonen 1995). In the same way moderate Pietism was suppressed, the radical form of Pietism gained ground, so that the years between 1730 and 1740 became the ‘decade of radical Pietism in Sweden’ (Pleijel 1935, 198).

13

As such, this case provides us with an interesting example of the relation and the interplay between dynamics and stability in the history of religions, triggered by contact situations. The rise of Carolean Pietism might be compared to the movement of a pendulum. It shows how a religious tradition, starting from humble beginnings, gains momentum via long-distance transmission, solidifies and stabilizes during this process, and displays its newly gained dynamics by coming back to its starting point, forcing its opponent to solidify and to stabilize in an intensified manner.

Lutherans and Pietists in the Swedish Empire

14

Starting with the ‘Protestant hero’ Gustavus Adolphus, the Swedish kings of the seventeenth and early eighteenth century inherited religious honor and duty as the protectors and promotors of Lutheran faith, as well as the widely acknowledged claim to be the champion of the Protestant course.²⁷ On Carolus’ father, A. F. Upton writes: “The first duty of a king was to uphold true religion, by setting an example of godliness himself and ensuring that his subjects followed it. Charles XI took this very seriously, for after all, the penalties that God might inflict on the kingdom if he did not were dire” (Upton 1998, 216). As a consequence, one of the Swedish Empire’s most salient characteristics, as Michael Roberts put it, “was a monolithic Lutheranism” (1973a, 1) whose apparent immunity to the grievous theological controversies of the time reinforced Sweden’s claim to be the champion of the Protestant world (1973b, 135). It contributed significantly to providing cohesion and stability despite the ethnic and linguistic divides in the Empire, above all between Sweden proper and Finland (Upton 1998, 256). As such, the solidification of the Swedish Church as a Lutheran monolith went hand in hand with the establishment of Absolutism in Sweden under Charles XI since 1680, promoting the exaltation of the king to a ‘God on Earth.’²⁸ At least from the establishment of a new church law in 1686 onward, state authorities and the clergy estate acted as a unified defense-front against perceived threats of established Lutheranism.²⁹ No wonder, then, that the purity of the true faith was a major point of governmental concern.

15

Only if challenged by situations of contact, the monolithic solidarity of the Lutheran faith in Sweden could prevail. Accordingly, the Lutheran claim can be observed in interreligious contact, particularly in situations such as the clash of Sámi shamanism and Lutheran mission in the far north of the Empire.³⁰ However, due to Sweden’s geographical position, mostly intrareligious contact within the broader field of Christianity—that is, with Orthodox, Catholic, and heterodox Protestant denominations—prominently shapes Swedish Lutheranism. Michael Roberts characterized it as follows: “Throughout an age of sectarian division and theological strife the Swedish Church remained singularly tranquil, and in the monolithic Lutheran fabric of the state scarcely a hair-crack was to be detected” (Roberts 1973b, 132).³¹

16

Pietism was by far the most important of these denominations, gaining ground in Sweden as an opposition to the official church faith. Before Pietism, Sweden had very little experience of religious deviance or pluralism (Ljungberg 2017, 242). It may well be described as part of an all-European and even world-wide revolutionary phenomenon criticizing the hard and dry teaching of the official churches and institutionalized denominations.³² In general, Pietism stressed personal piety rather than religious dogmatics (compare Gierl 2019, 139). However, instead of openly challenging orthodoxy, Pietism diffused into Sweden more subtly and more subversively—and that even with the help of the official church. Most significantly, in Sweden, Pietists in general did not identify themselves as such, but rather used to stress their conformity with the official teachings (Ljungberg 2019, 35). “The ideas of German Pietism, which were filtering into Sweden at the end of the century were in part a protest against a formalistic faith, and the Church under Charles XI made no room for such deviations. The ordinary churchgoer, on the other hand, may well have appreciated this formality. He knew that if he followed the rules, he would be left alone. The Swedish Church did not seek to make windows into man’s souls” (Upton 1998, 218). Furthermore, the clergy obviously did not expect too much of its flock and taught a very clear and simple doctrine of authority that was unlikely to cause confusion: established authority is from God, he who sets himself against authority sets himself against God’s decree and voluntarily refuses to live in peace and security" (Upton 1998, 253). “[…] [W]here the king led, the church gladly followed, not doubting that it was the work of God that was going forward in Germany or Poland or Russia” (Roberts 1973b, 136).

17

However, for many reasons, it was this severely criticized blunt formalism of orthodox Lutheranism that promoted the spread of Pietism. On one hand, Pietism arose as an opponent to demarcate against. On the other hand, it emerged as an individually empty (model) form the individualized and experience-based religiosity of Pietism could inscribe itself into—without being bothered as long as it did not become public, for example, via suspicious prayer meetings. Pietist theology, in the persons of Spener and Francke, by means of the ecclesiola in ecclesia aimed at using the official church as a Trojan horse (though not by that name and supposedly not with the intention to do damage) for the Pietist conventicles. Moreover, Pietism at first discreetly adapted itself via the persons of its first Swedish protagonists to the structures of the official Church (Jakubowski-Tiessen 2014, 22).

18

Therefore, the individualist, or rather, group-based approach to religion, its “anarchical tendency to a loose congregationalism,” and its “impatience with the regular routines of parochial piety,” in short, its opposition to a “collective faith suited to a collective village society” (Roberts 1973b, 152) (that was, not at last, the very basis of the Swedish military, see Åberg 1973, 272) made Pietism a dangerous opponent to state and church alike. Consequently, the writings of Johann Arndt, Philipp Jacob Spener, Gottfried Arnold and August Hermann Francke were put on the index by the censors of the official church (Jakubowski-Tiessen 2014, 22). The Pietist pattern of meeting in conventicles apart from Sunday worships, where, based on the Lutheran idea of the priesthood of all believers, psalms were sung, the Bible was read and explained, and prayers were offered, became the “primary source of tension between the authorities and the Pietists, as these meetings took place without the approval and mediation of the temporal and ecclesiastical authorities” (Green 2007, 67).³³ As most Pietists well considered themselves to remain within the official church, but also claimed independence from state supervision, the point of tension to the temporal powers becomes obvious. The Pietist communio sanctorum as a conventicle of voluntary nature, according to Spener, is exempted from the ius in sacra of the state, and therefore, well beyond the state’s competence (Bellardi 1994, 15).

19

The introduction of Pietism to Sweden, however, was performed with reference to the King’s office as the promoter of true Faith. Again, the formal ideas and structures of Sweden’s state religion proved to be instrumental. Pietism’s main transmitters were civil servants and other government officials, providing the movement with a strong lay character (Green 2007, 64). Some members of the clergy were, nevertheless, involved. One of its prominent figures, the former Feldsuperintendent of the Swedish army, Olof Ekman (1639–1713), published a book on the reform of the Swedish Church in 1680. Its title is Siönödz-Löffte “Vow in Distress” (Seenotgelübde) (see on this work Nordbäck 2004, 234–47). To some, the book presents the Swedish version of Spener’s Pia desideria, that is, in turn, a preface to Arndt’s works. Ekman’s work is devoted to the king, Charles XI, and the queen, Ulrike Eleonora (1653–1693)—although it criticizes the state of the Lutheran Church harshly and furthermore claims that there are no true Christians in Sweden (see Claesson 2011, 165–66; see also Nordbäck 2004, 235). Ekman introduced to Falun an early form of Pietism, albeit without establishing conventicles and still believing in the state as an instrument to improve piety (Claesson 2011, 175).

20

However, the key figure in the history of Pietism in Sweden was the king himself. Personally, Charles XII—believing to be solely responsible to God and to not be in need of any temporal advice—“read the Bible every day of his life” (Findeisen 1992, 78). His interest in religion is well documented, his personal beliefs, however, are not easy to define. He also “became keenly interested in the linguistic and historical discussions connected with bible-studies after 1715” (Hatton 1968, 13, see also 217).³⁴ Nevertheless, among his first actions as king was one of religious rigidity as it was directed against the Reformed Church of foreign subjects: Dutch subjects were forbidden to visit the private Chapel of the resident of the States General (1968, 85). His personal piety seems to have impressed strangers, who “noted the regularity with which he attended prayers and took part in the hymn-singing morning and night” (1968, 173). From his mother’s side, who headed a small pious circle and corresponded with Philipp Jakob Spener (see Pleijel 1935, 24–27), he appears to have been influenced by Pietists ideas (Montgomery 1995, 492).³⁵ In later times, above all after the drawback at Poltava, Charles XII was also described as indifferent to religion or at least more tolerant to religious diversity (Findeisen 1992, 227); due to his involuntary sojourn in the Ottoman Empire; he was even regarded as being influenced by Islamic virtues (abstinence, truthfulness to one’s word), but also as sympathizing with the Pietist movement (1968, 85 and 431).

21

The latter assertion might be subject to some doubt. Even in the midst of his long-term military campaign in Poland, Charles XII found it necessary to make the attitude of the Swedish Empire in matters of faith and heterodox opinions perfectly clear. In the Edict of Lusúc from 1706, the King confirmed earlier edicts of his father concerning the Pietist movement (see Ljungberg 2017, 53). The king was theologically supported by his loyal general superintendent (Generalsuperintendent) of Swedish Pomerania, who had previously been a friend of Spener’s but had now become a fervent opponent of the Pietist movement, the Lutheran Orthodox theologian Johann Friedrich Mayer (1650–1712), who, by consistently attacking the Pietists on every occasion (see Gierl 2019, 141), promoted his own orthodox Lutheran university at Greifswald instead of the Pietist stronghold at Halle.³⁶ As a result, Pietism was forbidden in the realm.³⁷ To his great discontent, the king declared that he had heard of the presence of ‘a great number of erring minds’ (ein grosser Theil Irr-Geister), who weakened the foundations of the Evangelical teachings in Sweden. The Swedish youth was in danger of traveling to the academic centers of these minds (i.e. the city of Halle, where a number of Swedish students studied with Francke since 1693, Montgomery 1995, 493). It were, in fact, two of these students who began to organize the first conventicles in Karlskrona (Green 2007, 62–63). As a countermeasure, the king ordered to survey and punish the enthusiasts most severely (auf das schärffste), i.e., by expulsion if they were foreigners and by loss of office and titles of honor if they were indigenous Swedish subjects. Moreover, to prevent the infiltration of Pietism into Sweden, the king introduced an office of surveillance of the academic youth. Before going to universities outside of Sweden, the students had to pass an exam of belief and were not allowed to study at German universities where the presence of Pietism was suspected (Daß sich keener des studirens halber auf denen der Pietistereyen wegen in Argwohn gehaltenen und berüchtigsten Teutschen Universitäten aufhalten solle). Another exam was due when the students returned to Sweden. If they were to fail, there would be no offices or posts in the Swedish empire for them whatsoever (quoted from Lüning 1721, 59–61).

The Soldier’s Faith

22

As strange as it may seem, the rise and spread of individualist and seemingly introverted Pietism in Sweden was closely related to the military. On second thought, however, it might well be the case that the Pietist maxim of education as indeed practiced by Francke in his Glauchasche Anstalten, i.e., its foremost aim to ‘break the pupil’s natural will’ (Brechung des natürlichen Eigenwillens) (see Kuhlmann 2013, here 26–32), might somehow resonate with military principles of the Carolean army.³⁸

23

By discipline, cohesion, training and in matters of reinforcement, the Swedish army was widely regarded as the best of its time. It was drilled to take the initiative even when outnumbered in most battles and was capable of executing elaborate offensive tactical moves even in difficult situations (Wolke 2018, 34). The Caroleans were particularly praised for their outstanding morale, their obedience to orders,³⁹ and, based on that, for their revolutionary battle tactics (shock tactics) that could only be successfully performed by a highly disciplined, properly trained and motivated troop (see Wolke 2018, 34).⁴⁰ Moreover, the cohesion of the prevailing regiments was built upon mutual trust, as the companies consisted of persons (officers, NCOs and soldiers) who lived in the same region, sharing activities of everyday life, such as going to church together (Wolke 2018, 35).⁴¹ All of these qualitatively distinguishing characteristics of the Swedish army were significantly influenced by religion, specifically in the form of stout Lutheranism, which was deliberately included into the training and the maintenance of the army.

24

In the army, religion was an institutionalized factor. Even more, the military itself was religiosified to a great degree: “The baptism of fire was important. Before it, a soldier was just a man in a uniform. The warrior was born on the battlefield after his first battle” (Sarkamo 2010, 40). In this religiosified army, the impact of the religious expert was of paramount importance. Luther was considered the belligerent role model for the Evangelical Church (Gudmundsson 2018, 831). Accordingly, as stated by most historians of the Carolean Age, the role of the field-preachers in the Swedish army cannot be overestimated (Åberg 1973, 272).⁴² Regarding his civilian colleagues, the primary duty of the military Lutheran minister was to preach (Gudmundsson 2014b, 215).⁴³ The soldiers were the subjects of constant treatment by the preachers: service and sermons were held in any weather and under any circumstances; and cancelling the sermon due to severe weather condition (such as in the cold Ukrainian winter of 1708/1709) was a matter that was much noteworthy (Findeisen 1992, 116). “Chaplains’ regular duties primarily consisted of holding regimental prayers twice a day and divine services three times a week, that is once on Fridays and twice on Sundays and other holidays” (Gudmundsson 2014b, 214).⁴⁴ Even immediately before the Battle of Poltava, for which time was the decisive factor in the Swedish battle plan, an hour of communal prayer was considered to be indispensable (Findeisen 1992, 123). Moreover, there were constant examinations conducted by the chaplains. Just as back home in Sweden, every soldier wishing to receive Communion had to confess and pass the catechism exam before being allowed to partake in the Eucharist (Gudmundsson 2014b, 214), a practice that required learning and constant repetition, supposedly by reading and learning by heart Luther’s Small Catechism and prayer books.⁴⁵

25

Through preaching and prayer, the soldiers were offered multiple possibilities for identifying themselves: as a confessionally correct Christian, as a national Swedish subject—with Sweden being the New Israel (particularly in times of need, see Gudmundsson 2018, 833)— and as a Christian soldier.⁴⁶ Accordingly, in the Swedish army, the tradition of the godly army was supposed to live on (Roberts 1973b, 136). The soldiers were informed about the army’s task, which was, not least of all, spiritual—specifically, delivering the Lord’s punishment upon his opponents, and marching under the leadership of the new Moses in the search for the promised land, thus fulfilling God’s will by conquering lands and killing enemies. However, a tendency toward war-mongering was not evident in the sermons, as the military sermon was less dependent on corresponding biblical texts, above all from the Old Testament, than one might assume. The sermon was directed more at the individual’s soul than towards an outward aggressive aim. As David Gudmundsson put it: “Military sermons were not distinguished either by simplicity or complexity, but followed standard homiletical methods. The preacher’s aim was not to create murderous soldiers, but to provide consolation. The soldiers should find confidence that their service was a righteous calling. The soldier who died in his vocation could die with a clear conscience” (Gudmundsson 2014b, 216). It is an interesting aspect of the Swedish campaign against Russia, however, that the Russian Orthodox Church was far less considered to be a ‘confessional other’ than the ‘papists.’ Rather, the Russians in sermons were presented as pious, but ignorant and superstitious Christians (see Gudmundsson 2014a, 232). Accordingly, in the Russian campaign, the religious struggle was less focused on the manifest outward enemy, but rather on the virtual threat ‘within’ the Soldier’s mind – and, ultimately, with regard to the challenge of Pietism, within the army itself.

26

In any case, the creation of confident, obliging and disciplined soldiers, ready and willing to face the efforts of long-distant campaigns and the horrors of battle, advancing on the enemy in good order and withholding fire until “the white in the eye” could be seen (as required by Swedish military doctrine, see Wolke 2018, 36), was not at last the result of the chaplain’s work. In fact, the accomplishments of the Swedish army, particularly during the initial years of the war, were outstanding, thus proving that the slogan Gott mit uns was by no means an empty assertion (see Findeisen 1992, 98–99). It might as well be argued that the chaplains provided the army with the rituals necessary to prepare the soldiers for dying as a result of God’s unfathomable will, “setting them into trance with drums, pipes and lofty speeches” (Sarkamo 2014, 66). While common hymn singing held significance, it was not characterized by encouragements to revenge or aggression. Instead, the hymns that soldiers sang were those familiar from their homes and could, thus, “help provide some sense of normality to military life and all its hardships. In the morning and evening hymns and in the common Sunday hymns, soldiers could find a connection to those left at home” (Gudmundsson 2014b, 217).

27

It should be noted that the armies of that time, due to the emphasis on obedience, discipline and order, were structurally open doors for religious influence, a fact well-recognized by the religious agents. Though he might not have displayed as much influence on the military chaplains of the Swedish army, Pietist patriarch August Hermann Francke clearly recognized the importance of the office as a tool of influence to promote his spiritual aims. It was another army of the time in which his efforts regarding the chaplains proved to be fruitful, i.e., the Prussian army.⁴⁷ During their meeting at Halle in 1713, Francke and the Prussian king Frederick William I, eager to cooperate to their mutual benefit, “negotiated an arrangement for provision of military chaplains to the Prussian army. The king gained a steady supply of reliable, morale-boosting chaplains, whereas the Pietist movement won an eager and often desperately receptive audience among soldiers for its message of salvation and renewal” (Bergen 2004, 9). Thus, via Halle-trained military chaplains, Francke was able to promote his aim to “include the Prussian army in his sphere of influence” (Lehmann 2004, 127), a goal that was, by ultimate intention, surely not restricted to Prussia alone: perhaps Francke had something similar in mind with regard to the Swedish army when he was visiting the Swedish king in his camp at Alttranstädt.

28

The Carolean army, however, was characterized by yet another indispensable element that considerably contributed to its religious eminence. The idea of the Godly army was additionally confirmed by the exceptional life-conduct of the ‘God on earth,’ i.e., the king himself. Already provided with a transcendent claim for his orders to be obeyed by the Swedish military ideology and jurisdiction,⁴⁸ Charles strengthened his claim through his personal example. In striking opposition to the lavish luxury displayed by his royal colleagues or other generals, even in the midst of a campaign, the king did not claim the privileges of his status, often sleeping on the ground and eating the same food as the common soldiers. It may even be argued that Charles XII, by choosing to share the hardships of the common soldier’s life and at the same time “embodying the ideal of all Carolean warriors” (Sarkamo 2014, 77), gave an inspiring example of a visible condescension that immensely strengthened the self-understanding of the Swedish army as a divine force. The king was, thus, seen as a visible manifestation of both the ideal warrior and providence’s executive. In the course of time and after many miraculous victories the Swedes became convinced of their ruler’s military infallibility and invulnerability (Findeisen 1992, 98). In certain aspects (not including the brutal punishment of civilian opponents) a flawless conduct of life was expected from every single soldier: Charles even insisted on the shooting of a married soldier of his guard who had committed adultery with another soldier’s wife (see Findeisen 1992, 255).⁴⁹

29

There is some good evidence, then, that the Carolean army gained its ‘Kampfkraft’ (fighting strength), its discipline, and its cohesion to a great deal by means of religion. Given that the soldier’s life was inherently imbued with religiosity, it is not surprising that the religious forms prevailed even after defeat in battle and following long-term captivity (Gudmundsson 2014b, 220).⁵⁰ In Protestant devotional writings of later times, the outstanding religiosity even of the defeated Swedish army in its Siberian exile was praised and presented as exemplary.⁵¹ In any case, by education and training, religion was an indispensable need to be fulfilled, and a paramount concern not only of the Siberian POWs.

Sweden and Siberia

30

It was the battle of Poltava that made Pietism a manifest story of success in the Swedish army and the Swedish society, mainly because of the dislocation and separation of thousands of Swedes from their (collective) former lives.⁵² The turn towards Pietism, however, did not come out of the blue. As Pentti Laasonen has pointed out, soldiers (mostly officers), particularly those from Finland and the Baltic Provinces (see also Wallmann 2005, 94–95),⁵³ had already been in contact with Pietist ideas, as the Swedes may have been with regard to clergymen like Ekman and the Swedish students from Halle (Laasonen 1998, 8). In any case, upon becoming captives and being sent to Siberia—and subsequently being denied the privileges Lutherans enjoyed after Czar Peter’s call for foreign expertise and his manifesto of guaranteeing religious freedom of 1702 (Belyakova and Leber 2020, 51–52)—,⁵⁴ the Caroleans emphatically began to turn towards Pietism (in literature one encounters the notion of ‘Awakening of the Caroleans,’ Karolinererweckung). The situation of imprisonment provided “exactly the kind of moral climate in which Pietism could flourish” (Roberts 1973b, 153). Todd Green has summarized the effects of this process as follows: “In terms of collective influence, the Swedish prisoners of war returning to their homeland in the early 1720s were arguably the most important transmitters of Pietist ideas in the early eighteenth century” (Green 2007, 65).⁵⁵

31

In his book, Wreech describes the involuntary inhabitants of Siberia as subjects of God’s unfathomable will. As prisoners of war, they not only represented the military, but rather the whole of Swedish society, as they came from all regions and all social strata of the realm:

32

Regarding the prisoners, they did not only consist of those fallen into the enemy’s hand at the battle of Poltava on June 28th, 1709, and those who had to become prisoners a few days after at the river Dnieper (so that the whole Swedish army became the enemy’s prize), but there also were a considerable number of officers and noncommissioned officers as well as private soldiers and burghers to be found in Russia before, who partly were captured in the battles in Livonia, Courland, Polonia and Lithuania and partly during the conquest of strongholds in Livonia or elsewhere; additionally there were those who, after the above-mentioned great battle, followed Blessed King Charles XII to Bender in Wallachia; and, after all that, as His Majesty the Czar conquered the whole Livonia and Finland, the very same was imposed by GOD.⁵⁶ (Wreech 1728, 4)

33

Although Siberia has quite a reputation as a place of imprisonment and banishment, the first large group sent to Siberia from outside Russia were the Swedish prisoners of war.⁵⁷ As such, they were the arrowhead of a mass flow, i.e., “one of the largest and most long-lasting cases of involuntary migration in world history, only surpassed by the slave trade from Africa to America” (Thorvaldsen 2008, 63). The majority of the private soldiers and petty officers had to endure conditions akin to slavery in labor camps (2008, 50). The conditions for the higher-ranking officers were clearly better as they were not forced to labor and even got a small salary, leaving them with a huge amount of spare time they could use. They were allowed to move freely (Dahlmann 2009, 148), to earn a living by their craftsman’s skills or as doctors and pharmacists. The prisoners were not only of Swedish, but also of Latvian (see Wreech 1728, 540)⁵⁸ and German origin, due to the Empire’s non-Swedish provinces.⁵⁹

34

Tobolsk,⁶⁰ the “nerve center” of the Russian conquest of Siberia, where “power and wealth flowed to and from in all directions” (Lincoln 2007, 59)⁶¹, had been the center of research on the Swedish prisoners of war because of the mere number of them and the higher degree of education (officers) that enabled them to document their stay in Siberia through diaries and reports.⁶² Tobolsk was in many regards a major hub of possible religious contact,⁶³ particularly with regard to the presence of Muslims and adherents of Shamanic traditions in the city and its surroundings. Furthermore, Siberia was a place of retreat for the many sects of the Orthodox Church, such as the ‘old believers’ (see Dahlmann 2009, 170).⁶⁴ The presence of the Protestant, that is, the Lutheran (and Pietist) Swedish POWs increased and intensified religious diversity. During that period, Swedish prisoners made up a significant 10 percent of the city’s population, causing some internal tensions among the inhabitants. For example, they were subject of a ‘pogrom-like uproar’ in 1712 (Thorvaldsen 2008, 52).⁶⁵ However, regarding religious diversity, contemporary reports depict Tobolsk, with its considerable Tatar population,⁶⁶ as a comparatively tolerant place. In Bell’s report, it reads: “Here, as at other places, these people enjoy the free exercise of their religion, and the privileges of trade” (Bell 1763, 185). In 1741, the traveler, ethnographer and later Russian court historian Gerhard Friedrich Müller (1705–1783) describes the quarters of the Tartar population as containing two mosques.⁶⁷ Additionally, and not to be neglected in the present context, Tobolsk was the center of orthodox mission among the Siberian people, and, ultimately, to China (see Hintzsche and Nikol 1997, 79).

35

Since the prisoners regarded defeat and captivity as God’s punishment for their sins based on their religious education, consolation in form of religious meetings and spiritual elevation was vital for their well-being.⁶⁸ In fact, physical suffering resulting from wounds of battles, captivity and torture by the Russians could be regarded as closely linked to both military and Christian honor and glory.⁶⁹ As a result, the prisoners began to meet privately, asserting their right to gather as private congregations, thus fulfilling the Pietist demand for personal, heartfelt religiosity apart from formal and organized worship (Thorvaldsen 2008, 57). Even for the private soldiers present in Tobolsk, the conduct of the pietist officers is described as a good example and spiritually beneficial.⁷⁰ Siberian Pietism finally emerged in full bloom as the prisoners received books from Halle and started to meet in conventicles (Laasonen 1998, 11). As a consequence, these meetings became a contested issue, facing opposition from the military clergy who feared for their influence. In Siberia, however, the practice of meeting in conventicles was approved by the—here de facto powerless—Swedish church officials, provided that it did not interfere with the Sunday services. Being thus confirmed by orthodox Lutheran formalism and Pietist state of mind, the Protestant beliefs prevailed among the vast majority of the prisoners: only few Swedes chose the privileges (among them, most prominently, the permission to marry a Russian woman)⁷¹ achieved by joining Russian Orthodoxy (Thorvaldsen 2008, 58). Those who did so were considered among those who had succumbed to the (Egyptian) temptations, a trial through which their newly found faith was tested.⁷² The private soldiers in the country, however, due to their isolation and the slavery they had to endure, mostly converted to Orthodoxy to improve their poor condition. Johann Christian Schmidt describes that condition as follows:

36

These poor people are found scattered throughout the whole country in the cities, and among the noblemen on the noble estates. Only a small minority of them have remained true to their religion, for they have been kept very cruelly by their masters, working hard during the day, having to sleep in prisons at night, and the Russians pretending that because they were nothing less than Christians, they could not be believed not to run away on occasion.⁷³ (Schmidt 2011, 36–38)

37

Moreover, August Hermann Francke, when asked for spiritual guidance by the officers at Tobolsk, not only sent money, medicine and books to the prisoners, but also took the chance of exploiting the situation for the sake of his movement. In his letters, he combined the demanding soldier’s profession with the spiritually fulfilling service to Christ, thus using the values of a soldier as a means for a Pietist rebirth. In his book, Wreech quotes a letter of Francke‘s that reads:

38

He shall bless your words and deeds for those in whose houses you live; yes, He shall employ you as a blessing in all Siberia and the surrounding realms and countries, and He shall use you as good warriors of JESUS CHRIST, as blessed vessels and tools by means of which many shall be committed to Christ.⁷⁴ (Wreech 1728, 96)

39

By the awakening of warriors for Christ,⁷⁵ focused on winning spiritual battles rather than those of the material world, the leaders of a new movement were born: “Becoming a born again Christian imbued the officer’s lives with new meaning. Self-sacrifice, the harsh and brutal years of war were suddenly described as necessary steps on the road of finding Christ” (Sarkamo 2010, 72). As Ville Sarkamo has shown, the Pietist movement’s militaristic rhetoric could be used for a direct continuation of a secular warrior ethics (Sarkamo 2014, 73), that, in turn, had prevailed in the framework of the religiosified godly Lutheran army.⁷⁶ It is thus the formal elements of religious life in the military that allowed a connection not only to Pietist ideas but also to the soldiers’ former existence, as hymns, prayers and Luther’s catechism remained persistent elements of the prisoner’s religious life. “Reading prayer books was not a new feature in the captive soldier’s life, but a custom from home, maintained during campaigns and continued in captivity” (Gudmundsson 2014b, 219). Not least, the transformation of soldiers of the king’s army to soldiers of Christ serves as a means to overcome the “credibility gap” that occurred to Christians being in the “Service of two kings,” above all the chaplains in their struggle for legitimacy that either is based on their duty to boost morale for the fighting forces, or on their duty to minister the spiritual needs of the soldiers (Bergen 2004, 3).

40

With regard to the question of possible types of religious contacts, it is interesting to notice that, in the case of the Swedes in Siberia’s prison camps, one part of contesting religious traditions, Pietism, de facto takes advantage of the formal structures of its opponent to emerge and consolidate. “While Lutheranism in these camps helped the soldiers to maintain something of their Swedish identities, it also served as the infrastructure through which Pietism spread,” the soldiers consequently serving “as catalysts for the further spread of Pietism in Sweden in the 1720s” (Green 2007, 65). This development was well in line with Pietist attitude towards the official church as expressed in August Hermann Francke’s teachings. The Pietist “true Church” (die rechte Kirche), he argues, is situated within the “outward Church” (äußerliche Kirche), i.e., invisibly hidden within the visible church (see Peschke 1964, 1:73–74). However, this idea of the true church inhabiting the official church holds two dimensions: on the one hand, Francke does not wish to severe the connection to the official church and its teachings (1964, 1:143), asserting the orthodoxy of his movement, but, on the other hand the official church and its structures might simultaneously be used as a veil or a Trojan horse to secure and promote Pietist ideas within it. Hence, the outward church that Francke criticizes as, with reference to Luther, a ‘true Babylon’ (rechtes Babel)⁷⁷ might be re-formed from within. Not only in this regard, Pietism is thus the true heir of Lutheran Reformation and the continuation of Protestant tradition (1964, 1:142). Francke, however, found Luther’s concept of the church insufficient and provided it with a decisive addition. This was the convents of the believers, meeting additionally to the church’s official services to their common mutual spiritual strengthening (1964, 1:74). As such, by remaining within the official church, the Pietist of Tobolsk may be considered (and well considered themselves) as having realized the ecclesiola in ecclesia, i.e., they succeeded in realizing the community of true believers in brotherly self-control combining both the preservation of the true teaching and a God-blessed life proved by manifest instances of compassion (Bellardi 1994, 9) that even got institutionalized. According to Pietist thinking, these instances achieved by the ecclesiola can fertilize the church as a whole.

41

The School at Tobolsk,⁷⁸ therefore, might be an expression of the fertile combination of official Swedish Lutheranism (allowing the prisoners in the tradition of godly discipline to hold together and to create their own ecclesiastical organization, see Roberts 1973b, 136–37) and its official opposition, Pietism (providing consolation and spiritual welfare for the individual soul by establishing convents of believers). The establishment of the school enabled Pietism to institutionalize⁷⁹ within the structures of the church and demonstrate its efficiency. As such, the school became a part of the Pietists’ general eschatological plan: “Francke and his disciples hoped that God would accept the charitable and educational institutions at Halle as the first step toward His Kingdom, and that He would reward their labors in establishing these institutions on the day of the Last Judgment” (Lehmann 2004, 127). Among contemporaries and later scholars, the school at Tobolsk is considered to be a Franckesche Stiftung en miniature, including a boarding house for children whose parents were sent to other parts of Siberia. For Francke it is a clear sign of God’s ways with the faithful, that an enterprise starts from humble beginnings and develops into a visible blessing (Peschke 1964, 1:(2), 210). As it seems, Wreech, in composing the school laws, applied the pedagogical principles developed by Francke to his Swedish and Russian pupils. This encompassed a demanding set of activities during the long school day, with religion as the central part (dominated by Pietist sentiments and principles). In addition to reading and writing, subjects such as arithmetic, geography, languages (Latin, German, French), drawing, singing and handicraft were also included (see Thorvaldsen 2008, 53). The school comprised two sections: one Swedish and one German for all others. Up to 130 people studied or worked in the school (see Wreech 1728, 711). A separate school building was bought with financial support from Halle in 1715. Because of the school’s permanently precarious financial situation due to its reliance on donations, Wreech left Siberia in 1722, heavily indebted.

42

However, to contemporaries like the Scottish traveler John Bell (1691–1780), who visited the city in 1719, the presence of the Swedes strongly promoted cultural values in Tobolsk and the surrounding area:

43

I cannot but observe, that the Swedish prisoners, dispersed in most of the towns in this country, contributed not a little to the civilizing the inhabitants of these distant regions; as they were the means of introducing several useful arts, which were almost unknown before their arrival. (Bell 1763, 187)

44

This is especially true for the Swedish School, not least because, regarding education, Siberia in general remained an underdeveloped periphery of the Russian Empire with only very few schools (Dahlmann 2009, 170). On the school’s well intended effects on the pupils, the autobiographical account of Johann Christian Schmidt is most significant:

45

Each day I have been reawakened again by the Word of God by dear Herr von Wreech, so that I finally came to the conclusion and the intention not to serve the devil anymore, even if I would torture myself to death in doing so.⁸⁰

46

The Swedish prisoners of war also built a church that, alongside the school, was mentioned in eighteenth century encyclopedias as a prominent characteristic of Tobolsk (see Steinke 2017, 135). In 1717, even a hospital with 15 beds was organized. In the year 1741, the traveler and historian Gerhard Friedrich Müller reports on the Swedish graveyard.⁸¹ The school seems to have gained some reputation even with Czar Peter himself, who granted it his protection and provided it with funding.⁸² The support for the school may have even led to a remarkable partial alliance of the main antagonists of the war. As a letter from 1718 by General Löwenhaupt, quoted in Wreech’s book, suggests, even Charles XII himself was duly informed about the Tobolsk school (see Wreech 1728, 590).

47

For the Pietist movement, the school became an important hub in the overall Pietist spiritual and economical network.⁸³ The significance and mutually beneficial interrelation of trade networks and the aim to spread religious ideas corresponds to the praxis of Hallensian Pietism. The Pietist leaders had a particular interest in Russia as a space of mission and a stopping-off place to Persia and Asia minor (Belyakova and Leber 2020, 48). August Hermann Francke well recognized the possibility of using Tobolsk as a basis to missionize among the Asian peoples (see Gröschl 2013, 172), but also as a commercial center for his international trading company (Obst 2013, 95 and 123). He also considered his relations to Russia as important, having been in contact with Czar Peter through Russian envoys twice before 1700 (Obst 2013, 42). To strengthen the Pietist grip on the situation, Francke sent his close collaborator, Christoph Eberhard (1675–1750), to Tobolsk as a pastor.⁸⁴ Operating under the alias of Alethophilo, Eberhard made the situation known to the European public by publishing the first collection of the letters of the Swedish Prisoners in 1718.⁸⁵

48

With regard to a more general cultural exchange, the presence of the Swedish Pietists in Siberia was no less eminent. The role of the Swedish prisoners of war and the impact of Pietism cannot be overestimated when it comes to the exploration and scientific description of Siberia. Likewise and correspondingly, the influence of the university of Halle and Hallensian Pietism is considerable (see Vermeulen 2015, 99). Daniel Gottlieb Messerschmidt (1685–1735), a physician from Halle and a pupil of August Hermann Francke, was the first foreign scholar to travel to Siberia under the orders of Peter the Great. Until 1727 Messerschmidt had travelled the whole of Siberia.⁸⁶ When Messerschmidt arrived at Tobolsk in 1719,⁸⁷ he met the resident Swedish soldiers who in part dealt with Siberia and its history, among them most prominently Philipp Johann Tabbert (later von Stra(h)lenberg 1677–1747) (see Thomas 1982, 8–9).⁸⁸ Tabbert accompanied Messerschmidt on part of his journeys. Therefore, in many regards, Tabbert can be considered as a key figure of Swedish presence in Siberia and its lasting spiritual and scientific influence. As we have seen before, Tabbart’s Pietist books that he (miraculously, as Wreech suggests) managed to preserve in captivity, were the main catalyst of Wreech’s own conversion experience. Moreover, Strahlenberg produced a geographical, ethnographical and linguistical description of Siberia, Der Nord- und Östliche Theil von Europa und Asien, in so weit solches das gantze Russische Reich mit Sibirien und der grossen Tartarey in sich begriffet (Stockholm 1730), as well as a pathbreaking map of it (see Dahlmann 2009, 114). It was only by his publications that Messerschmidt’s achievements became publicly known (as the Russian Academy of Science had confiscated all his papers and had urged him not to publish anything about his journey). Strahlenberg also contributed the descriptions of religious contact of the Swedes with the non-Christian population of Siberia in the Wahrhafftige Historie.

The Wahrhafftige Historie and Religious Contact

Conclusion: To Tobolsk and Back Stronger than Ever

88

On the return of the Swedish prisoners of war to their homeland Wreech comments as follows:

89

Among those, who thus regained their bodily freedom, there were a great number of high and low people, who in captivity converted from darkness to light, and, thus, gained proper freedom in Christ, so that the realm of Sweden received a blessing of true Children of GOD, who, if they remain faithful (on which there is no doubt), amply compensate for the suffered loss of people and land.¹²⁸ (Wreech 1728, 842)

90

According to Wreech, although the Lutheran Army and State of Sweden suffered severe losses in the Great Northern war, Sweden shall spiritually emerge stronger than ever. This transformation was attributed to the Pietist rebirths in Siberia and other parts of Russia, which claimed the true freedom in Christ in the country’s so-called ‘Age of Liberty’ that followed the era of the absolutist kings as champions of Lutheranism. From humble beginnings, corresponding to the poor state of the dislocated Swedes, Pietism gradually gained strength over time and space. Eventually, Pietism returned triumphantly, or at least as a significant challenge that demanded a corresponding response from the state and Lutheran orthodoxy. Having resisted despair and (orthodox) temptation in Russia, the former prisoners are likely to stay firm to their new convictions.

91

The case of the self-reflection of the Swedish Pietist prisoners in Siberia as manifested in Curt Friedrich von Wreech’s Wahrhafftige Historie provides scholars studying situations of religious contact with a significant example. It illustrates the long-distance transmission of religious ideas, their consolidation in a distant area in the face of a religiously diverse (polyphone) region (early Tsarist Siberia), and their re-import or repercussion back to the original places of religious encounter.¹²⁹ It also shows the profound effects of a (political) promotor of contact situations with regard to intensity and expansion. Here, religious ideas are being solidified in exile. For example, they are solidified by the orthodox ‘temptation’, something that—in contrast to the poor soldiers in the country who wished to escape their slave-like conditions for the worldly pleasures of Egypt, which seemed to provide some security—only very few Tobolsk Swedes succumbed to. There is also the repulsive example of the ‘pagan’ tribes, that is, in particular, the Ostiaks, that served to solidify the pietist convictions of the prisoners. On the other hand, the example of the devout Muslims and admiring orthodox priests, who, in Wreech’s report, appear to appreciate the piety of the reborn soldiers, further strengthened these convictions. The pietist ideas are closely connected to a certain carrier strata (the so-called Karolinerpietisten). Upon their return, these ideas triggered a stronger and more demarcating reaction of the predominant religious tradition, Lutheran orthodoxy, leading to the inauguration of the Act of Conventicles of 1726, the Diet of 1734, and the Decree on Religion of 1735. According to Johannes Ljungberg, the 1730s brought “a sense of Jacobian terror into the Swedish religious politics” (Ljungberg 2017, 232). Simultaneously, the challenging tradition, Pietism, is forced to a more radical approach, that is now willing to sever the bonds between the Pietists and the Church—something that the Pietist leaders, such as August Hermann Francke, have declined to do (see Pleijel 1935, 181). Thus, the ‘challenging’ part gained its special force, its threatening momentum via great distance, that had previously allowed it to prosper due to the lack of official church authority.¹³⁰ It is, therefore, an intensifying contact situation of a special kind: for in this case contact is not limited to a certain space, but is rather a process that may in fact cover virtually thousands of miles, not only one-directional, but rather reciprocally as a matter of ‘there and back again.’

92

Moreover, this case shows how a predominant tradition involuntarily provides its heterodox counterpart with the formal structures for survival, expansion, and consolidation. The latter inscribes itself into the model forms of the former, thus at the same time claiming for protection of authorities. In the case of the Carolean Pietists, these structures encompassed not only the forms of the official church, but also the structures of a religiosified military, which provided them with the self-understanding as the holy army, the condescending godlike leader and fundamental obedience to God’s will. All of these aspects were suitable model forms into which Pietism could easily inscribe itself.

93

Last but not least, it can be shown that dynamics and stability of the religious traditions involved in a situation of contact are closely interconnected. The Swedish church in Siberia represents the stabilization of Pietism via institutionalization that reverts to the Hallensian Pietist tradition as exemplified by the Franckesche Stiftungen. After all, Pietism, having gained momentum through a 4000 kilometer-journey, displayed a dynamic force in the Swedish heartland that could only be countered by stout (solid) measures of the alliance of state and religion.¹³¹

Acknowledgement

94

I would like to thank my Bochum colleagues Chris Klöckner and Maren Freudenberg, and Dieter Stünkel (Bünde) for the critical lecture of and the helpful suggestions on the final version of the text. I would also like to thank the anonymous reviewers for their constructive suggestions.