“PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH.”
(PROPERLY GERMAN.)
“PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH,”
AND
OTHER ESSAYS.
BY
PHEBE EARLE GIBBONS,
AUTHOR OF “FRENCH AND BELGIANS.”
_THIRD EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED._
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1882.
Copyright, 1882, by PHEBE EARLE GIBBONS.
PREFACE.
The leading article in this collection appeared, as first published, in
the _Atlantic Monthly_ in October, 1869. After this essay was written I
became better acquainted with our plain German sects, and wrote articles
describing them, which were published in the first edition of this book.
It appeared in 1872.
To the second edition were added “Bethlehem and the Moravians” and
“Schwenkfelders,” as well as an Appendix, and the edition was published
about the opening of 1874.
The present volume contains articles that have never before appeared
in book-form, namely, “The Miners of Scranton,” “Irish Farmers,” and
“English.” However, the first was published in _Harpers’ Magazine_ for
November, 1877. Another short article appeared earlier in the same
periodical; and several other essays were first brought before the
public in Philadelphia and New York papers.
From personal observation I have been able to revise a considerable part
of this volume, which contains more than double the amount of matter
comprised in the first edition.
AUGUST, 1882.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
“PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH” (PROPERLY GERMAN) 11
Language 11
Religion 13
History of a Sect 18
Politics 20
Festivals 22
Weddings 24
Quiltings 29
“Singings” 31
Farming 33
Farmers’ Wives 36
Holidays 45
Public Schools 47
Manners and Customs 49
Additional Remarks 53
AN AMISH MEETING 59
SWISS EXILES 70
Books 71
Menno Symons 74
William of Orange 75
Persecution in Zurich and Berne 78
The States-General 83
Alsace and the Palatinate 87
William Penn 88
“Connystogoe” 91
Harmony among Sects 95
Mennonite Church History 99
Traditions 100
Russian Mennonites 102
Mennonites in Germany 106
THE DUNKER LOVE-FEAST 112
Electing a Preacher 119
The Feet-Washing 123
The Kiss of Peace 125
The Communion 126
River Brethren 134
Brinser Brethren 136
EPHRATA 138
Conrad Beissel 138
Peter Miller 145
Publications 152
Zinzendorf’s Visit 155
The Buildings now standing 163
Old Clock 166, 170
BETHLEHEM AND THE MORAVIANS 173
Festivals 176
The Graveyard 183
Old Recollections 185
Old Buildings 198
Miscellaneous Remarks 200
Historical Note 203
SCHWENKFELDERS 206
Meeting-House and Graveyard 207
Books 210
History 212
Journey to America 224
Anniversary or Yearly Meeting 226
Customs 230
Doctrines 234
Additional Remarks 239
A FRIEND 244
COUSIN JEMIMA 260
THE MINERS OF SCRANTON 268
Superstitions 270
Hardships 272
Amusements 274
Wives and Children 281
Fare 285
Aspirations 288
Culture 292
Strikes 295
IRISH FARMERS 304
A Farm-House in the County Cork 307
Another Farmer 325
A Castle 327
The Southwest 333
Michael McBride 337
To and in Dublin 340
ENGLISH 344
Farms and Farmers 350
The Church and Rector 356
Dissenters 360
Taxes and Tithes 363
Schools 365
Miscellaneous 372
Peculiarities of Speech 379
APPENDIX 381
The Pennsylvania German Dialect 381
Proper Names 391
Politics 393
Yankees 394
Thrift 395
Charms and Superstitions 397
Medical Superstitions 401
Holidays 404
Easter 404
Halloween 405
Peltz Nickel 407
New Year 407
The Plainer Sects 408
The People Contrasted 414
Miscellaneous 415
“PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH.”
(PROPERLY GERMAN.)
I have lived for twenty years in the county of Lancaster, where my
neighbors on all sides are “Pennsylvania Dutch.” In this article I shall
try to give, from my own observation and familiar acquaintance, some
account of the life of a people who are little known outside of the rural
neighborhoods of their own State, who have much that is peculiar in their
language, customs, and belief, and of whom I have learned to esteem the
native good sense, friendly feeling, and religious character.
LANGUAGE.
The tongue which these people speak is a dialect of the German, but they
generally call it and themselves “Dutch.”
For the native German who works with them on the farm they entertain some
contempt, and the title “Yankee” is with them a synonyme for cheat. As
must always be the case where the great majority do not read the tongue
which they speak, and live in contact with those who speak another, the
language has become mixed and corrupt. Seeing a young neighbor cleaning a
buggy, I tried to talk with him by speaking German. “Willst du reiten?”
said I (not remembering that _reiten_ is to ride on horseback). “Willst
du reiten?” All my efforts were vain.
As I was going for cider to the house of a neighboring farmer, I asked
his daughter what she would say, under the circumstances, for “Are you
going to ride?” “Widdu fawray? Buggy fawray?” was the answer. (Willst
du fahren?) Such expressions are heard as “Koock amul to,” for “Guck
einmal da,” or “Just look at that!” and “Haltybissel” for “Halt ein
biszchen,” or “Wait a little bit.” “Gutenobit” is used for “Guten Abend.”
Apple-butter is “lodwaerrick,” from the German _latwerge_, an electuary,
or an electuary of prunes. Our “Dutch” is much mixed with English. I once
asked a woman what pie-crust is in Dutch, “Py-kroosht,” she answered.
Those who speak English use uncommon expressions, as,—“That’s a werry
_lasty_ basket” (meaning durable); “I seen him yet a’ready;” “I knew a
woman that had a good baby _wunst_;” “The bread is all” (all gone). I
have heard the carpenter call his plane _she_, and a housekeeper apply
the same pronoun to her home-made soap.
A rich landed proprietor is sometimes called _king_. An old “Dutchman”
who was absent from home thus narrated the cause of his journey: “I must
go and see old Yoke (Jacob) Beidelman. Te people calls me te kink ov te
Manor (township), and tay calls him te kink ov te Octorara. Now, dese
kinks must come togeder once.” (Accent _together_, and pass quickly over
_once_.)
RELIGION.
I called recently on my friend and neighbor, Jacob S., who is a thrifty
farmer, of a good mind, and a member of the old Mennist or Mennonite
Society. I once accompanied him and his pleasant wife to their
religious meeting. The meeting-house is a low brick building, with neat
surroundings, and resembles a Friends’ meeting-house. The Mennonists
in some outward matters very much resemble the Society of Friends (or
Quakers), but do not rely, in the especial manner that Friends do, upon
the teachings of the Divine Spirit in the secret stillness of the soul.
In the interior of the Mennist meeting a Quaker-like plainness prevails.
The men, with broad-brimmed hats and simple dress, sit on benches on one
side of the house, and the women, in plain caps and black sun-bonnets,
are ranged on the other; while a few gay dresses are worn by the young
people who have not yet joined the meeting. The services are almost
always conducted in “Dutch,” and consist of exhortation and prayer, and
singing by the congregation. The singing is without previous training,
and is not musical. A pause of about five minutes is allowed for private
prayer.
The preachers are not paid, and are chosen in the following manner. When
a vacancy occurs, and a new appointment is required, several men go into
a small room, chosen for the purpose; and to them, waiting, enter singly
the men and women, as many as choose, who tell them the name of the
person preferred by each to fill the vacancy. After this, an opportunity
is given to any candidate to excuse himself from the service. Those who
are not excused, if, for instance, six in number, are brought before six
books. Each candidate takes up a book, and the one within whose book a
lot is found is the chosen minister. I asked my friends who gave me some
of these details, whether it was claimed or believed that there is any
special guidance of the Divine Spirit in thus choosing a minister. From
the reply, I did not learn that any such guidance is claimed, though they
spoke of a man who _was led_ to pass his hand over all the other books,
and who selected the last one, but he did not get the lot after all. He
was thought to be ambitious of a place in the ministry.
The three prominent sects of Mennonites all claim to be non-resistants,
or _wehrlos_. The Old Mennists, who are the most numerous and least
rigid, vote at elections, and are allowed to hold such public offices
as school director and road supervisor, but not to be members of the
legislature. The ministers are expected not to vote.[1] The members of
this society cannot bring suit against any one; they can hold mortgages,
but not judgment bonds.[2] Like Quakers, they were not allowed to hold
slaves, and they do not take oaths nor deal in spirituous liquors.
My neighbor Jacob and I were once talking of the general use of the
word “Yankee” to denote one who is rather unfair in his dealings. They
sometimes speak of a “Dutch Yankee;” and Jacob asked me whether, if going
to sell a horse, I should tell the buyer every fault that I knew the
horse had, as he maintained was the proper course. His brother-in-law,
who was at times a horse-dealer, did not agree with him.
Titles do not abound among these plain neighbors of ours. Jacob’s little
son used to call him “Jake,” as he heard the hired men do. Nevertheless,
one of our New Mennist acquaintances was quite courtly in his address.
This last-mentioned sect branched off some fifty years ago, and claim
to be _reformirt_, or to have returned to an older and more excellent
standard. They do not vote at all. Their most striking peculiarity is
this: if one of the members is disowned by the church, the other members
of his own family who are members of the meeting are not allowed to eat
at the same table with him, and his wife withdraws from him. A woman who
worked in such a family told me how unpleasant it was to her to see that
the father did not take his seat at the table, to which she was invited.
In support of this practice, they refer to the eleventh verse of the
fifth chapter of First Corinthians: “But now I have written unto you not
to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or
covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner;
with such an one _no not to eat_.”
We have yet another sect among us, called Amish (pronounced Ommish). In
former times these Mennists were sometimes known as “beardy men,” but
of late years the beard is not a distinguishing trait. It is said that
a person once asked an Amish man the difference between themselves and
another Mennist sect. “Vy, dey vears puttons, and ve vearsh hooks oont
eyes;” and this is, in fact, a prime difference. All the Mennist sects
retain the ordinances of baptism and the Lord’s supper, but most also
practise feet-washing, and some sectarians “greet one another with a holy
kiss.”
On a Sunday morning Amish wagons, covered with yellow oil-cloth, may be
seen moving toward the house of that member whose turn it is to have
the meeting. Great have been the preparations there beforehand,—the
whitewashing, the scrubbing, the polishing of tin and brass. Wooden
benches and other seats are provided for the “meeting-folks,” and the
services resemble those already described. Of course, young mothers do
not stay at home, but bring their infants with them. When the meeting
is over, the congregation remain to dinner. Bean soup was formerly the
principal dish, but, with the progress of luxury, the farmers of a fat
soil no longer confine themselves to so simple a diet. Imagine what a
time of social intercourse this must be.
The Amish dress is peculiar; and the children are diminutive men and
women. The women wear sun-bonnets and closely-fitting dresses, but
often their figures look very trim, in brown, with green or other
bright handkerchiefs meeting over the breast. I saw a group of Amish
at the railroad station the other day,—men, women, and a little boy.
One of the young women wore a pasteboard sun-bonnet covered with black,
and tied with narrow blue ribbon, among which showed the thick white
strings of her Amish cap; a gray shawl, without fringe; a brown stuff
dress, and a purple apron. One middle-aged man, inclined to corpulence,
had coarse, brown, woollen clothes, and his pantaloons were without
suspenders, in the Amish fashion. No buttons were on his coat behind,
but down the front were hooks and eyes. One young girl wore a bright
brown sun-bonnet, a green dress, and a light blue apron. The choicest
figure, however, was the six-year-old, in a jacket, and with pantaloons
plentifully plaited into the waistband behind; hair cut straight over the
forehead, and hanging to the shoulder; and a round-crowned black wool
hat, with an astonishingly wide brim. The little girls, down to two years
old, wear the plain cap, and the handkerchief crossed upon the breast.
In Amish houses the love of ornament appears in brightly scoured
utensils,—how the brass ladles are made to shine!—and in embroidered
towels, one end of the towel showing a quantity of work in colored
cottons. When steel or elliptic springs were introduced, so great a
novelty was not at first patronized by members of the meeting; but an
infirm brother, desiring to visit his friends, directed the blacksmith to
put a spring inside his wagon, under the seat, and since that time steel
springs have become common. I have even seen a youth with flowing hair
(as is common among the Amish), and two trim-bodied damsels, riding in a
very plain, uncovered buggy. A. Z. rode in a common buggy; but he became
a great backslider, poor man!
It was an Amish man, not well versed in the English language, from whom I
bought poultry, who sent me a bill for “chighans.”
In mentioning some ludicrous circumstances, far be it from me to ignore
the virtues of these primitive people.
HISTORY OF A SECT.
The Mennonites are named from Menno Symons, a reformer, who died in 1561,
though it is doubtful whether Menno founded the sect. “The prevailing
opinion among church historians, especially those of Holland, is that the
origin of the Dutch Baptists may be traced to the Waldenses, and that
Menno merely organized the concealed and scattered congregations as a
denomination.”
Mosheim says, “The true origin of that sect, which acquired the
denomination of Anabaptists, by their administering anew the rite of
baptism to those who came over to their communion, and derived that of
Mennonites from the famous man to whom they owe the greatest part of
their present felicity, is hidden in the depths of antiquity, and is of
consequence extremely difficult to be ascertained.” The “Martyr-Book,”
or “Martyr’s Mirror,” in use among our Mennonites, endeavors to prove
identity of doctrine between the Waldenses and these Baptists, as regards
opposition to infant baptism, to war, and to oaths.
Although the Mennonites are very numerous in the county of Lancaster, yet
in the whole State they were estimated, in 1850, to have but ninety-two
churches, while the Lutherans and German Reformed together were estimated
as having seven hundred.
The freedom of religious opinion which was allowed in Pennsylvania had
the effect of drawing hither the continental Europeans, who established
themselves in the fertile lands of the western part of the county of
Chester, now Lancaster. It was not until the revolution of 1848 that the
different German states granted full civil rights to the Mennonites; and
in some cases this freedom has since been withdrawn; Hanover, in 1858,
annulled the election of a representative to the second chamber, because
he was a Mennonite. Much of this opposition probably is because the
sect refuse to take oaths. With such opposing circumstances in the Old
World, it is not remarkable that the number of Mennonites in the United
States has been reported to exceed that in all the rest of the world
put together.[3] The Amish are named from Jacob Amen, a Swiss Mennonite
preacher of the seventeenth century.
As I understand the Mennonites, they endeavor in church government
literally to carry out the injunction of Jesus, “Moreover if thy brother
shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and
him alone; if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. But if
he will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that in the
mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established. And if he
shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the church; but if he neglect to
hear the church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican.”
Besides these sectaries, we have among us Dunkers (German _tunken_, to
dip), from whom sprang the Seventh-Day Baptists of Ephratah, with their
brother- and sister-houses of celibates.
Also at Litiz we have the Moravian church and Gottesacker (or
churchyard), and a Moravian church at Lancaster. Here, according to
custom, a love-feast was held recently, when a cup of coffee and a rusk
(sweet biscuit) were handed to each person present.
We have, too, a number of “Dutch Methodists,” or _Albrechtsleute_
(followers of Albrecht), to whom is given the name Evangelical
Association. These are full of zeal or activity in church, like the early
Methodists; and I saw a young man fall apparently into a trance at a
camp-meeting, lying upon the ground, to the satisfaction of his wife, who
probably thought he was “happy.”
POLITICS.
As our county was represented in Congress by Thaddeus Stevens, you have
some idea of what our politics are. We have returned about five or six
thousand majority for the Whig, Anti-Masonic, and Republican ticket, and
the adjoining very “Dutch” county of Berks invariably as great a majority
for the Democratic. So striking a difference has furnished much ground
for speculation. The Hon. John Strohm says that Berks is Democratic
because so many Hessians settled there after the Revolution. “No,” says
the Hon. Mr. B., “I attribute it to the fact that the people are not
taught by unpaid ministers, as with us, but are Lutherans and German
Reformed, and can be led by their preachers.” “Why is Berks Democratic?”
I once asked our Democratic postmaster. “I do not know,” said he; “but
the people here are ignorant; they do not read a paper on the other
side.” A former postmaster tells me that he has heard that the people of
Berks were greatly in favor of liberty in the time of the elder Adams;
that they put up liberty-poles, and Adams sent soldiers among them and
had the liberty-poles cut down; and “ever since they have been opposed to
that political party, under its different names.”
A gentleman of Reading has told me that he heard James Buchanan
express, in the latter part of his life, a similar opinion to one given
before. Mr. Buchanan said, in effect, that while peace sects prevailed
in Lancaster County, in Berks were found many Lutherans and German
Reformed, who were more liberal (according, of course, to Mr. Buchanan’s
interpretation of the word).
The troubles alluded to in Berks seem to have been principally on
account of a direct tax, called “the house-tax,” imposed during the
administration of John Adams.
The people of Berks and Lancaster gave another striking proof of the
difference of their political sentiments, on the question of holding
the Constitutional Convention of 1874. The vote of Berks was 5269 for a
convention, and 10,905 against a convention; the vote of Lancaster was,
for a convention 16,862, against the same 116.
A gentleman of Easton, Northampton County, tells me of a German farmer,
who lived near that town, who said he did not see any need of so many
parties,—the Democrats and Lutherans were enough. On his death-bed he
is reported to have said to his son, “I never voted anything but the
Democratic ticket, and I want you to stick to the party.”
FESTIVALS.
The greatest festive occasion, or the one which calls the greatest number
of persons to eat and drink together, is the funeral.
My friends Jacob and Susanna E. have that active benevolence and correct
principle which prompt to a care for the sick and dying, and kind offices
toward the mourner. Nor are they alone in this. When a death occurs,
our “Dutch” neighbors enter the house, and, taking possession, relieve
the family as far as possible from the labors and cares of a funeral.
Some “redd up” the house, making that which was neglected during the sad
presence of a fatal disease again in order for the reception of company.
Others visit the kitchen, and help to bake great store of bread, pies,
and rusks for the expected gathering. Two young men and two young women
generally sit up together overnight to watch in a room adjoining that of
the dead.
At funerals occurring on Sunday three hundred carriages have been seen
in attendance; and so great at all times is the concourse of people
of all stations and all shades of belief, and so many partake of the
entertainment liberally provided, that I may be excused for calling
funerals the great festivals of the “Dutch.” (Weddings are also highly
festive occasions, but they are confined to the “freundschaft,” and to
much smaller numbers.)
The services at funerals are generally conducted in the German language.
An invitation is extended to the persons present to return to eat
after the funeral, or the meal is partaken of before leaving for the
graveyard: hospitality, in all rural districts, where the guests come
from afar, seems to require this. The tables are sometimes set in a barn,
or large wagon-house, and relays of guests succeed one another, until all
are done. The neighbors wait upon the table. The entertainment generally
consists of meat, frequently cold; bread and butter; pickles or sauces,
such as apple-butter; pies and rusks; sometimes stewed chickens, mashed
potatoes, cheese, etc.; and coffee invariably. All depart after the
dish-washing, and the family is left in quiet again.
I have said that persons of all shades of belief attend funerals; but
our New Mennists are not permitted to listen to the sermons of other
denominations. Memorial stones over the dead are more conspicuous than
among Friends; but they are still quite plain, with simple inscriptions.
Occasionally family graveyards are seen. One on a farm adjoining ours
seems cut out of the side of a field; it stands back from the high-road,
and access to it is on foot. To those who are anxious to preserve the
remains of their relatives, these graveyards are objectionable, as they
will probably not be regarded after the property has passed into another
family.
A Lutheran gentleman, living in Berks County, in speaking of the great
funerals among the “Dutch,” says, “Our Germans look forward all their
lives to their funerals, hoping to be able to entertain their friends
on that great occasion with the hospitality due to them, and the honor
due to the memory of the departed.” No spirituous liquors, he added, are
_now_ used at funerals, the clergy having discouraged their use on these
religious occasions. In a mountain valley in Carbon County, about thirty
years ago, a bottle of whiskey was handed to a Lutheran minister, and he
was asked to take some. “Yes, I’ll have some,” he answered; and taking
the bottle, he broke it against a tree.
WEDDINGS.
Our farmer had a daughter married lately, and I was invited to see the
bride leave home. The groom, in accordance with the early habits of the
“Dutch” folks, reached the bride’s house about six in the morning, having
previously breakfasted and ridden four miles. As he probably fed and
harnessed his horse, besides attiring himself for the grand occasion, he
must have been up betimes on an October morning.
The bride wore purple mousseline-de-laine and a blue bonnet. As some of
the “wedding-folks” were dilatory, the bride and groom did not get off
before seven. The bridegroom was a mechanic. The whole party was composed
of four couples, who rode to Lancaster in buggies, where two pairs were
married by a minister. In the afternoon the newly-married couples went
down to Philadelphia for a few days; and on the evening that they were
expected at home we had a reception, or home-coming. Supper consisted
of roast turkeys, beef, and stewed chickens, cakes, pies, and coffee
of course. We had raisin-pie, which is a great treat in “Dutchland”
on festive or solemn occasions. “Nine couples” of the party sat down
to supper, and then the remaining spare seats were occupied by the
landlord’s wife, the bride’s uncle, etc. We had a fiddler in the evening.
He and the dancing would not have been there had the household “belonged
to meeting;” and, as it was, some young Methodist girls did not dance.
One of my “English” acquaintances was sitting alone on a Sunday evening,
when she heard a rap at the door, and a young “Dutchman,” a stranger,
walked in and sat down, “and there he sot, and sot, and sot.” Mrs. G.
waited to hear his errand, politely making conversation; and finally
he asked whether her daughter was at home. “Which one?” He did not
know. But that did not make much difference, as neither was at home.
Mrs. G. afterwards mentioned this circumstance to a worthy “Dutch”
neighbor, expressing surprise that a young man should call who had not
been introduced. “How then _would_ they get acquainted?” said he. She
suggested that she did not think that her daughter knew the young man.
“She would not tell you, perhaps, if she did.” The daughter, however,
when asked, seemed entirely ignorant, and did not know that she had ever
seen the young man. He had probably seen her at the railroad station,
and had found out her name and residence. It would seem to indicate much
confidence on the part of parents, if, when acquaintances are formed in
such a manner, the father and mother retire at nine o’clock, and leave
their young daughter thus to “keep company” until midnight or later.
It is no wonder that one of our German sects has declared against the
popular manner of “courting.”
I recently attended a New Mennist wedding, which took place in the frame
meeting-house. We entered through an adjoining brick dwelling, one
room of which served as an ante-room, where the “sisters” left their
bonnets and shawls. I was late, for the services had begun about nine
on a bitter Sunday morning in December. The meeting-house was crowded,
and in front on the left was a plain of book-muslin caps on the heads
of the sisters. On shelves and pegs, along the other side, were placed
the hats and overcoats of the brethren. The building was extremely
simple,—whitewashed without, entirely unpainted within, with whitewashed
walls. The preacher stood at a small, unpainted desk, and before it was a
table, convenient for the old men “to sit at and lay their books on.” Two
stoves, a half-dozen hanging tin candlesticks, and the benches completed
the furniture. The preacher was speaking extemporaneously in English, for
in this meeting-house the services are often performed in this tongue;
and he spoke readily and well, though his speech was not free from such
expressions as, “It would be wishful for men to do their duty;” “Man
cannot separate them together;” and “This, Christ done for us.”
He spoke at length upon divorce, which, he said, could not take place
between Christians. The preacher spoke especially upon the duty of the
wife to submit to the husband whenever differences of sentiment arose;
of the duty of the husband to love the wife, and to show his love by his
readiness to assist her. He alluded to Paul’s saying that it is better to
be unmarried than married, and he did not scruple to use plain language
touching adultery. His discourse ended, he called upon the pair proposing
marriage to come forward; whereupon the man and woman rose from the
body of the congregation on either side, and, coming out to the middle
aisle, stood together before the minister. They had both passed their
early youth, but had very good faces. The bride wore a mode-colored
alpaca, and a black apron; also a clear-starched cap without a border,
after the fashion of the sect. The groom wore a dark-green coat, cut
“shad-bellied,” after the fashion of the brethren.
This was probably the manner of their acquaintance: If, in spite of
Paul’s encouragement to a single life, a brother sees a sister whom he
wishes to marry, he mentions the fact to a minister, who tells it to
the sister. If she agrees in sentiment, the acquaintance continues for
a year, during which private interviews can be had if desired; but this
sect entirely discourages courting as usually practised among the “Dutch.”
The year having in this case elapsed, and the pair having now met before
the preacher, he propounded to them three questions:
1. I ask of this brother, as the bridegroom, do you believe that this
sister in the faith is allotted to you by God as your helpmeet and
spouse? And I ask of you, as the bride, do you believe that this your
brother is allotted to you by God as your husband and head?
2. Are you free in your affections from all others, and have you them
centred alone upon this your brother or sister?
3. Do you receive this person as your lawfully wedded husband [wife], do
you promise to be faithful to him [her], to reverence him [to love her],
and that nothing but death shall separate you; that, by the help of God,
you will, to the best of your ability, fulfil all the duties which God
has enjoined on believing husbands and wives?
In answering this last question, I observed the bride to lift her eyes
to the preacher’s face, as if in fearless trust. Then the preacher,
directing them to join hands, pronounced them man and wife, and invoked
a blessing upon them. This was followed by a short prayer, after
which the wedded pair separated, each again taking a place among the
congregation. The occasion was solemn. On resuming his place in the desk,
the preacher’s eyes were seen to be suffused, and pocket-handkerchiefs
were visible on either side (the sisters’ white, those of the brethren of
colored silk). The audience then knelt, while the preacher prayed, and
I heard responses like those of the Methodists, but more subdued. The
preacher made a few remarks, to the effect that, although it would be
grievous to break the bond now uniting these two, it would be infinitely
more grievous to break the tie which unites us to Christ; and then a
quaint hymn was sung to a familiar tune. This “church” does not allow
wedding-parties, but a few friends may gather at the house after meeting.
At Amish weddings the meeting is not in a church, like the one just
spoken of, for their meetings are held in private houses. I hear that
none go to this meeting but invited guests, except that the preachers are
always present; and after the ceremony the wedded pair with the preachers
retire into a private apartment, perhaps for exhortation upon their new
duties.
A neighbor tells me that the Amish have great fun at weddings; that they
have a table set all night, and that when the weather is pleasant they
play in the barn. “Our Pete went once,” she continued, “with a lot of the
public-school scholars. They let them go in and look on. They twisted a
towel for the bloom-sock, and they did hit each other.” (Bloom-sock,
_plump-sack_, a twisted kerchief,—a clumsy fellow.)
“The bloom-sock” (_oo_ short), I hear, “is a handkerchief twisted long,
from the two opposite corners. When it is twisted, you double it, and tie
the ends with a knot. One in front hunts the handkerchief, and those on
the bench are passing it behind them. If they get a chance, they’ll hit
him with it, and if he sees it he tears it away. Then he goes into the
row, and the other goes out to hunt it.”
It has also been said that at Amish wedding-parties they have what
they call _Glücktrinke_, of wine, etc. Some wedding-parties are called
infares. Thus, a neighbor spoke of “Siegfried’s wedding, where they had
such an infare.” The original meaning I suppose to be home-coming.
It must not be inferred from these descriptions that we have no
“fashionable” persons among us, of the old German stock. When they have
become fashionable, however, they do not desire to be called “Dutch.”
QUILTINGS.
There lives in our neighborhood a pleasant, industrious “Aunt Sally,” a
yellow woman; and one day she had a quilting, for she had long wished
to re-cover two quilts. The first who arrived at Aunt Sally’s was our
neighbor from over the “creek,” or mill-stream, Polly M., in her black
silk Mennist bonnet, formed like a sun-bonnet; and at ten came my dear
friend Susanna E., who is tall and fat, and very pleasant; who has
Huguenot blood in her veins, and—
“Whose heart has a look southward, and is open
To the great noon of nature.”
Aunt Sally had her quilt up in her landlord’s east room, for her own
house was too small. However, at about eleven she called us over to
dinner; for people who have breakfasted at five or six have an appetite
at eleven.
We found on the table beefsteaks, boiled pork, sweet potatoes,
kohl-slaw,[4] pickled tomatoes, cucumbers, and red beets (thus the
“Dutch” accent lies), apple-butter and preserved peaches, pumpkin- and
apple-pie, with sponge-cake and coffee.
After dinner came our next neighbors, “the maids,” Susy and Katy Groff,
who live in single blessedness and great neatness. They wore pretty,
clear-starched Mennist caps, very plain. Katy is a sweet-looking woman;
and, although she is more than sixty years old, her forehead is almost
unwrinkled, and her fine fair hair is still brown. It was late when
the farmer’s wife came,—three o’clock; for she had been to Lancaster.
She wore hoops, and was of the “world’s people.” These women all spoke
“Dutch;” for “the maids,” whose ancestor came here probably one hundred
and fifty years ago, do not yet speak English with fluency.
The first subject of conversation was the fall house-cleaning; and I
heard mention of “die carpet hinaus an der fence,” and “die fenshter und
die porch;” and the exclamation, “My goodness, es war schlimm” (it was
bad). I quilted faster than Katy Groff, who showed me her hands, and
said, “You have not been corn-husking, as I have.”
So we quilted and rolled, talked and laughed, got one quilt done, and put
in another. The work was not fine; we laid it out by chalking around a
small plate. Aunt Sally’s desire was rather to get her quilting finished
upon this great occasion, than for us to put in a quantity of needlework.
About five o’clock we were called to supper. I need not tell you all the
particulars of this plentiful meal. But the stewed chicken was tender,
and we had coffee again.
Polly M.’s husband now came over the creek in the boat, to take her home,
and he warned her against the evening dampness. The rest of us quilted a
while by candle and lamp, and got the second quilt done at about seven.
At this quilting I heard but little gossip, and less scandal. I displayed
my new alpaca, and my dyed merino, and the Philadelphia bonnet which
exposes the back of my head to the wintry blast. Polly, for her part,
preferred her black silk sun-bonnet; and so we parted, with mutual
invitations to visit.
“SINGINGS.”
Mary ⸺ tells me that she once attended a “singing” among the Amish. About
nightfall, on a Sunday evening in summer, a half-dozen “girls” and a few
more “boys” met at the house of one of the members. They talked a while
first on common subjects, and then sang hymns from the Amish hymn-book
in the German tongue. They chanted in the slow manner common in their
religious meetings; but Mary says that some are now learning to sing by
note, and are improving their manner. They thus intoned until about ten
o’clock, and then laid aside their hymn-books, and the old folks went
to bed. Then the young people went out into the wash-house, or outside
kitchen, so as not to wake the sleepers, and played, “Come, Philander,
let’s be marching,” and
“The needle’s eye we do supply
With thread that runs so true;
And many a lass have I let pass
Because I wanted you.”
Which game seems to be the same as
“Open the gates as high as the sky
And let King George and his troops go by.”
In these kissing plays, and in some little romping among the young men,
the time was spent until about two or three in the morning, when they
separated, two girls from a distance staying all night. Mary was able to
sleep until daylight only, for no allowance is made for those who partake
in these gay vigils to make up in the morning for loss of sleep.
There were no refreshments upon this occasion, but once at a singing at
Christ. Yoder’s, it is said that the party took nearly all the pies out
of the cellar, and the empty plates were found in the wash-house next
morning.
Dancing-parties are not unknown among us, but they are not popular among
the plain people whom I especially describe.
FARMING.
In this fertile limestone district farming is very laborious, being
entirely by tillage. Our regular routine is once in five years to
plough the sod ground for corn. In the next ensuing year the same
ground is sowed with oats; and when the oats come off in August, the
industrious “Dutchmen” immediately manure the stubble-land for wheat.
I have seen them laying the dark-brown heaps upon the yellow stubble,
when, in August, I have ridden some twelve or fourteen miles down to the
hill-country for blackberries.
After the ground is carefully prepared, wheat and timothy (grass) seed
are put in with a drill, and in the ensuing spring clover is sowed upon
the same ground. By July, when the wheat is taken off the ground, the
clover and timothy are growing, and will be ready to mow in the next or
fourth summer. In the fifth the same grass constitutes a grazing-ground,
and then the sod is ready to be broken up again for Indian corn. Potatoes
are seldom planted here in great quantities; a part of one of the
oat-fields or corn-fields can be put into potatoes, and the ground will
be ready by fall to be put into wheat, if it is desired. A successful
farmer put more than half of his forty acres into wheat; this being
considered the best crop. The average crop of wheat is about twenty
bushels, of Indian corn about forty. I have heard of one hundred bushels
of corn in the Pequea valley, but this is very rare.
When the wheat and oats are in the barn or stack, enormous eight-horse
threshers, whose owners go about the neighborhood from farm to farm,
thresh the crop in two or three days; and thus what was once a great job
for winter may all be finished by the first of October.
Jacob E. is a model farmer. His buildings and fences are in good order,
and his cattle well kept. He is a little past the prime of life; his
beautiful head of black hair being touched with silver. His wife is
dimpled and smiling, and her weight of nearly two hundred does not
prevent her being active, energetic, forehanded, and “thorough-going.”
During the winter months the two sons go to the public school,—the older
one with reluctance; there they learn to read and write and cipher,
and possibly they study geography; they speak English at school, and
“Dutch” at home. Much education the “Dutch” farmer fears, as productive
of laziness; and laziness is a mortal sin here. The E.’s rarely buy a
book. I suggested to one of our neighbors that he might advantageously
have given a certain son a chance with books. “Don’t want no books,” was
the answer. “There’s enough goes to books! Get so lazy after a while
they won’t farm.” The winter is employed partly in preparing material to
fertilize the wheat-land during the coming summer. Great droves of cattle
and sheep come down our road from the West, and our farmers buy from
these, and fatten stock during the winter months for the Philadelphia
market. A proper care of his stock will occupy some portion of the
farmer’s time. A farmer’s son told me also of cutting wood and quarrying
stone in the winter, adding, “If a person wouldn’t work in the winter,
they’d be behindhand in the spring.”
Besides these, the farmer has generally a great “freundschaft,” or family
connection, both his and his wife’s; and the paying visits within a
range of twenty or thirty miles, and receiving visits in return, help
to pass away the time. Then Jacob and Susanna are actively benevolent;
they are liable to be called upon, summer and winter, to wait on the sick
and to help bury the dead. Susanna was formerly renowned as a baker at
funerals, where her services were freely given.
This rich level land of ours is highly prized by the “Dutch” for farming
purposes, and the great demand has enhanced the price. The farms, too,
are small, seventy acres being a fair size. When Seth R., the rich
preacher, bought his last farm from an “Englishman,” William G. said to
him, “Well, Seth, it seems as if you Dutch folks had determined to root
us English out; but thee had to pay pretty dear for thy root this time.”
There are some superstitious ideas that still hold sway here, regarding
the growth of plants. A young girl coming to us for cabbage-plants said
that it was a good time to set them out, for “it was in the Wirgin.” It
is very doubtful whether she knew _what_ was in Virgo, but I suppose that
it was the moon. So our farmer’s wife tells me that the Virgin will do
very well for cabbages, but not for any plant like beans, for, though
they will flower well, they will not mature the fruit. Fence should be
set in the up-going of the moon; meat butchered in the down-going will
shrink in the pot.
FARMERS’ WIVES.
One of my “Dutch” neighbors, who, from a shoemaker, became the owner of
two farms, said to me, “The woman is more than half;” and his own very
laborious wife (with her portion) had indeed been so.
The woman (in common speech, “the old woman”) milks, raises the poultry,
has charge of the garden,—sometimes digging the ground herself, and
planting and hoeing, with the assistance of her daughters and the
“maid,” when she has one. (German, _magd_.) To be sure, she does not
go extensively into vegetable-raising, nor has she a large quantity of
strawberries and other small fruits; neither does she plant a great
many peas and beans, that are laborious to “stick.” She has a quantity
of cabbages and of “red beets,” of onions and of early potatoes, in
her garden, a plenty of cucumbers for winter pickles, and store of
string-beans and tomatoes, with some sweet potatoes.
Peter R. told me that in one year, off their small farm, they sold “two
hundred dollars’ worth of _wedgable_ things, not counting the butter.” As
in that year the clothing for each member of the family probably cost no
more than fifteen dollars, the two hundred dollars’ worth of vegetable
things was of great importance.
Our “Dutch” never make _store_-cheese. At a county fair, only one cheese
was exhibited, and that was from Chester County. The farmer’s wife boards
all the farm-hands, and the mechanics—the carpenter, mason, etc.—who
put up the new buildings, and the fence-makers. At times she allows the
daughters to go out and husk corn. It was a pretty sight which I saw one
fall day,—an Amish man with four sons and daughters, husking in the
field. “We do it all ourselves,” said he.
(Said a neighbor, “A man told me once that he was at an Amish husking—a
husking-match in the kitchen. He said he never saw as much sport in all
his life. There they had the bloom-sock. There was one old man, quite
gray-headed, and gray-bearded; he laughed till he shook.” Said another,
“There’s not many huskings going on now. The most play now goes on at the
infares.”)
In winter mornings perhaps the farmer’s wife goes out to milk in the
stable with a lantern, while her daughters get breakfast; has her house
“redd up” about eight o’clock, and is prepared for several hours’ sewing
before dinner, laying by great piles of shirts for summer. We no longer
make linen; but I have heard of one “Dutch” girl who had a good supply of
domestic linen made into shirts and trousers for the future spouse whose
fair proportions she had not yet seen.
There are, of course, many garments to make in a large family, but
there is not much work put upon them. We do not yet patronize the
sewing-machine very extensively, but a seamstress or tailoress is
sometimes called in. At the spring cleaning the labors of the women folk
are increased by whitewashing the picket-fences.
In March we make soap, before the labors of the garden are great. The
forests are being obliterated from this fertile tract, and many use
what some call _consecrated_ lye; formerly, the ash-hopper was filled,
and a good lot of egg-bearing lye run off to begin the soap with, while
the weaker filled the soft-soap kettle, after the soap had “come.”
The chemical operation of soap-making often proved difficult, and, of
course, much was said about luck. “We had bad luck making soap.” A
sassafras stick was preferred for stirring, and the soap was stirred
always in one direction. In regard to this, and that other chemical
operation, making and keeping vinegar, there are certain ideas about the
temporary incapacity of some persons,—ideas only to be alluded to here.
If the farmer’s wife never “has luck” in making soap, she employs some
skilful woman to come in and help her. It is not a long operation, for
the “Dutch” rush this work speedily. If the lye is well run off, two
tubs of hard soap and a barrel of soft can be made in a day. A smart
housekeeper can make a barrel of soap in the morning, and go visiting in
the afternoon.
Great are the household labors in harvest; but the cooking and baking in
the hot weather are cheerfully done for the men, who are toiling in hot
suns and stifling barns. Four meals are common at this season, for “a
piece” is sent out at nine o’clock. I heard of one “Dutch” girl’s making
some fifty pies a week in harvest; for if you have four meals a day, and
pie at each, many are required. We have great faith in pie.
I have been told of an inexperienced Quaker housewife in the neighboring
county of York, who was left in charge of the farm, and during harvest
these important labors were performed by John Stein, John Stump, and John
Stinger. She also had guests, welcome perhaps as “rain in harvest.” To
conciliate the Johns was very important, and she waited on them first.
“What will thee have, John Stein?” “What shall I give thee, John Stump?”
“And thee, John Stinger?” On one memorable occasion there was mutiny in
the field, for John Stein declared that he never worked where there were
not “kickelin” cakes in harvest, nor would he now. _Küchlein_ proved to
be cakes fried in fat; and the housewife was ready to appease “Achilles’
wrath,” as soon as she made this discovery.
We made in one season six barrels of cider into apple-butter, three at
a time. Two large copper kettles were hung under the beech-trees, down
between the spring-house and smoke-house, and the cider was boiled down
the evening before, great stumps of trees being in demand. One hand
watched the cider, and the rest of the family gathered in the kitchen
and labored diligently in preparing the cut apples, so that in the
morning the “schnits” might be ready to go in. (_Schneiden_, to cut,
_geschnitten_.)
One bushel and a half of cut apples are said to be enough for a barrel
of cider. In a few hours the apples will all be in, and then you will
stir, and stir, and stir, for you do not want to have the apple-butter
burn at the bottom, and be obliged to dip it out into tubs and scour the
kettle. Some time in the afternoon, you will take out a little on a dish,
and when you find that the cider no longer “weeps out” round the edges,
but all forms a simple heap, you will dip it up into earthen vessels,
and when cold take it “on” to the garret to keep company with the hard
soap and the bags of dried apples and cherries, perhaps with the hams and
shoulders. Soap and apple-butter are usually made in an open fireplace,
where hangs the kettle. At one time (about the year 1828) I have heard
that there was apple-butter in the Lancaster Museum which dated from
Revolutionary times; for we do not expect it to ferment in the summer.
It dries away; but water is stirred in to prepare it for the table.
Sometimes peach-butter is made, with cider, molasses, or sugar, and,
in the present scarcity of apples, cut pumpkin is often put into the
apple-butter.
Soon after apple-butter-making comes butchering, for we like an early
pig in the fall, when the store of smoked meat has run out. Pork is the
staple, and we smoke the flitches, not preserving them in brine like the
Yankees. We ourselves use much beef, and do not like smoked flitch, but I
speak for the majority. Sausage is a great dish with us, as in Germany.