planting, but only plant two themselves, giving out four to others. The
men who take this land plant and cultivate it, and receive one-half of
the produce, not being charged for the preparation of the ground, nor
for taking the crop to market. One of the advantages of the cultivation
of tobacco (I am sensible of its disadvantages, and do not recommend its
use) is that it gives the poor laboring man and woman more independence.
He or she takes an acre or more, plants, waters, destroys the large
tobacco-worm, strips off the suckers, tops it, breaks down the flowering
stem, gathers, dries, sorts, and packs, and receives perhaps one hundred
dollars per acre in lump, which is very acceptable. They estimate that
they make about double wages.
The eight-horse threshers before mentioned are getting out of date; steam
threshes now almost entirely, and completes the work on such a farm as
just described in two days. The threshing is frequently finished as early
as the first of September, so that the farmer can hang tobacco in the
barn. Large tobacco-houses have also been erected, in the cellar of which
this crop is prepared for sale.
It will be observed that very little attention was paid to potatoes. Last
year they brought at the rate of two hundred bushels to the acre. We had
a pretty severe drought in 1881, and potatoes have sold this winter at
one dollar per bushel, which would make the potato crop superior in value
to the tobacco.
The great amount of manure required to keep the land up to such a
standard is thus supplied on this farm, which is a model one in the
neighborhood. For several months last winter the owner had sixteen
horses, five of his own and the rest boarding; he also had twelve head of
horned cattle, and fattened nine swine. All the corn, hay, and fodder
raised on the farm were fed upon it. (Straw is rarely fed here.) Besides,
the farmer bought five tons of Western mill-feed (the bran and other
refuse from wheat flour) and about three hundred bushels of corn. This
spring he has bought two tons of a certain fertilizer for his corn, and
applied his own barn-yard manure to the tobacco and wheat. He has been
indemnified in part for the great amount fed, by the money received for
boarding horses at twelve dollars apiece by the month. Horses from Canada
and the West are often fattened here for the Eastern market. This farmer
bought two last year, worked them himself on the farm, fattened and
groomed them, and sold them so as to make one hundred dollars apiece on
them; but this was exceptional.
Besides the fertilizers before mentioned, lime is used in this region,
although some have doubted the necessity of applying it to our rich
limestone land. On the farm which I have been describing it is put on
about every sixth year, at the rate of six hundred bushels on eleven
acres. It costs ten cents a bushel.
* * * * *
Another change here is that many now buy bread, and several bakers
regularly supply the neighborhood. This has caused a great lightening of
the labor at funerals. The bread and rusks (or buns) are bought and the
pies dispensed with, which were once considered so necessary. A jocose
youth in a near village used to say, “There will be raisin-pie there,”
when he wished to express that there was fatal illness; but raisin-pies
are no longer so fashionable at funerals. There is no diminution,
however, in the great gatherings. A wealthy farmer died lately who was
also a Mennonite preacher. The funeral was on Sunday; the guests heard
preaching at the house, then dined, and the funeral went to the church,
where was preaching again. Four hundred carriages, it is said, were on
the ground.
Our school-term in this district is not increased beyond seven months;
but the salary has risen, and is from thirty-five to forty dollars per
month, according to merit.
The Amish in this immediate neighborhood still cling to the plain customs
I have described, except that it has become quite common for young people
to drive in simple buggies. Now the yellow-covered wagons are not so
universal; other colors are also used, and more elegant harness. (They
generally keep very good harness.) Neither do the young men wear their
hair to their shoulders. Many of the Amish now wear suspenders. One of
my friends, who is Amish, says that you cannot speak of any such rule as
regards the church in general, for every congregation has its own rules
in these minor affairs.
The family graveyard, especially mentioned, has been removed, and all
the bodies that were recovered interred at the Mennonite church in the
neighborhood.
* * * * *
Two or three small changes in this neighborhood are the following:
Sewing-machines are now found here in great numbers; many houses have
large stoves, which heat at least one room up-stairs; and it is not
common in this immediate neighborhood to sit up with the dead, in the
manner before described.
AN AMISH MEETING.[7]
It was on a Sunday morning in March, when the air was bleak and the roads
were execrable, that I obtained a driver to escort me to the farm-house
where an Amish meeting was to be held.
It was a little after nine o’clock when I entered, and, although the
hour was so early, I found the congregation nearly all gathered, and the
preaching begun.
There were forty men present, as many women, and one infant. Had the
weather been less inclement, we should probably have had more little
ones, for such plain people do not think it necessary to leave the babies
at home.
The rooms in which we sat seemed to have been constructed for these great
occasions. They were the kitchen and “the room,”—as our people call the
sitting-room, or best room,—and were so arranged as to be made into one
by means of two doors.
Our neighbors wore the usual costume of the sect, which is a branch of
the Mennonite Society, or nearly allied to it, the men having laid off
their round-crowned and remarkably wide-brimmed hats. Their hair is
usually cut square across the forehead, and hangs long behind; their
coats are plainer than those of the plainest Quaker, and are fastened,
except the overcoat, with hooks and eyes in place of buttons; whence they
are sometimes called Hooker or Hook-and-Eye Mennists. The pantaloons
are worn without suspenders. Formerly the Amish were often called
“beardy men,” but since beards have become fashionable theirs are not so
conspicuous.
The women, whom I have sometimes seen with a bright purple apron, an
orange neckerchief, or some other striking bit of color, were now more
soberly arrayed in plain white caps without ruffle or border, and white
neckerchiefs, though occasionally a cap or kerchief was black. They wear
closely fitting waists, with a little basquine behind, which is probably
a relic from the times of the short gown and petticoat. Their gowns were
of sober woollen stuff, frequently of flannel; and all wore aprons.
But the most surprising figures among the Amish are the little children,
dressed in garments like those of old persons. It has been my lot to see
at the house of her parents a tender little dark-eyed Amish maiden of
three years, old enough to begin to speak “Dutch,” and as yet ignorant
of English. Seated upon her father’s lap, sick and suffering, with that
sweet little face encircled by the plain muslin cap, the little figure
dressed in that plain gown, she was one not to be soon forgotten. But
the little girl that was at meeting to-day was either no Amish child or
a great backslider, for she was hardly to be distinguished in dress from
the “world’s people.”
The floors were bare, but on one of the open doors hung a long white
towel, worked at one end with colored figures, such as our mothers or
grandmothers put upon samplers. These perhaps were meant for flowers. The
congregation sat principally on benches. On the men’s side a small shelf
of books ran around one corner of the room.
The preacher, who was speaking when I entered, continued for about
fifteen minutes. His remarks and the rest of the services were in
“Dutch.” I have been criticised for applying the epithet to my neighbors,
or to their language, but “Dutch” is the title which they generally
apply to themselves, speaking of “us Dutch folks and you English folks,”
and sometimes with a pretty plain hint that some of the “Dutch” ways
are discreeter and better, if not more virtuous, than the English.
But, though I call them “Dutch,” I am fully aware that they are not
Hollanders. Most of them are Swiss, of ancient and honorable descent,
exiles on account of religious persecution.
I am sorry that I do not understand the language well enough to give
a sketch of some of the discourses on this occasion. At times I
understood an expression of the first speaker, such as “Let us well
reflect and observe,” or “Let us well consider,” expressions that
were often repeated. As he was doubtless a farmer, and was speaking
extemporaneously, it is not remarkable that they were so.
When the preacher had taken his seat, the congregation knelt for five
minutes in silence. A brother then read aloud from the German Bible,
concerning Nicodemus who came to Jesus by night, etc. After this
another brother rose and spoke in a tone like that which is so common
among Friends, namely, a kind of singing or chanting tone, which he
accompanied by a little gesture.
While he was speaking, one or two women went out, and, as I wished to
take note of the proceedings, I followed them into the wash-house or
outside kitchen, which was quite comfortable. As I passed along, I saw in
the yard the wagons which had brought the people to meeting. Most of them
were covered with plain yellow oil-cloth. I have been told that there are
sometimes a hundred wagons gathered at one farm-house, and that in summer
the meetings are often held in barns.
I sat down by the stove in the wash-house, and a very kindly old woman,
the host’s mother, came and renewed the fire. As she did not talk
English, I spoke to her a little in German, and she seemed to understand
me. When I wrote, she wondered and laughed at my rapid movements, for
writing is slower work with these people than some other kinds of labor.
I suppose, indeed, that there are still some of the older women who
scarcely know how to write.
I asked her whether after meeting I might look at the German books on the
corner shelf,—ancient books with dark leather covers and metallic clasps.
She said in reply, “Bleibsht esse?” (“Shall you stay and eat?”) Yes, I
would. “Ya wohl,” said she, “kannst.” (“Very well, you can.”)
A neat young Amish woman, the “maid” or housekeeper, came and put upon
the stove a great tin wash-boiler, shining bright, into which she put
water for making coffee and for washing dishes.
I soon returned to the meeting, and found the same preacher still
speaking. I suppose that he had continued during my absence, and, if so,
his discourse was an hour and ten minutes in length. This was quite too
long to be entertaining to one who only caught the sense of an occasional
passage, or of a few texts of Scripture. It was while these monotonous
tones continued that I heard a rocking upon the floor overhead. It
proceeded, I believe, from the young mother,—the mother of the little one
before spoken of. When the child had become restless before this, or when
she was tired, a young man upon the brethren’s side of the room had taken
it for a while, and now it was doubtless being put to sleep in a room
overhead, into which a stove-pipe passed from the apartment where we sat.
My attention was also attracted by an old lady who sat near me, and
facing the stove, with her hands crossed in her lap, and a gold or brass
ring on each middle finger. She wore a black flannel dress and a brown
woollen apron, leather shoes and knit woollen stockings. Her head was
bent forward toward her broad bosom, upon which was crossed a white
kerchief. With her gray hair, round face, and plain linen cap, her whole
figure reminded me of the peasant women of continental Europe or of a
Flemish picture.
I have spoken of her wearing rings. Says one of my neighbors of a
different Mennist sect, “Were they not brass? She wears them for some
sickness, I reckon. She would not wear them for show. One of our
preachers wears steel rings on his little fingers for cramps.”
When the long sermon was ended, different brethren were called upon, and
during a half-hour we had from them several short discourses, one or
two of them nearly inaudible. The speakers were, I think, giving their
views on what had been said, or perhaps they were by these little efforts
preparing themselves to become preachers, or showing their gifts to the
congregation.
It is stated in Herzog’s Cyclopædia that among the Mennonites in Holland
the number of _liebesprediger_ has greatly declined, so that some
congregations had no preacher. (The word _liebesprediger_ I am inclined
to translate as voluntary, unpaid preachers, like those among Friends.)
I am in doubt, indeed, whether any such are now found in Holland. There
seems to be no scarcity in this country of preachers, who are, however,
in some, if not all three of the divisions of Mennonites, chosen by lot.
When these smaller efforts were over, the former preacher spoke again for
twenty minutes, and several of the women were moved to tears. After this
the congregation knelt in vocal prayer. When they rose, the preacher said
that the next meeting would be at the house of John Lapp, in two weeks.
He pronounced a benediction, ending with the name of Jesus, and the whole
congregation, brethren and sisters, curtsied, or made a reverence, as the
French express it. This was doubtless in allusion to the text, that at
the name of Jesus every knee should bow. Finally, a hymn, or a portion of
one, was sung, drawn out in a peculiar manner by dwelling on the words. I
obtained a hymn-book, and copied a portion. It seems obscure:
“Der Schopfer auch der Vater heisst,
Durch Christum, seinen Sohne;
Da wirket mit der Heilig Geist,
Einiger Gott drey Namen,
Von welchem kommt ein Gotteskind
Gewaschen ganz rein von der Sund,
Wird geistlich gespeisst und trancket,
Mit Christi Blut, sein Willen thut
Irdisch verschmacht aus ganzen Muth,
Der Vater sich ihm schenket.”
The book from which I copied these lines was in large German print, and
bore the date 1785. In front was this inscription in the German tongue
and handwriting: “This song-book belongs to me, Joseph B⸺. Written in the
year of Christ 1791; and I received it from my father.” Both father and
son have been gathered to their fathers; the book, if I mistake not, was
in the house of the grandson, and it may yet outlast several generations
of these primitive people.
The services closed at a little after noon. From their having been
conducted entirely in German, or in German and the dialect, some persons
might suppose that these were recent immigrants to our country. But the
B. family just alluded to was one of the first Amish families that came
here, having arrived in 1737.
It seems that the language is cherished with care, as a means of
preserving their religious and other peculiarities. The public schools,
however, which are almost entirely English, must be a powerful means of
assimilation.
The services being ended, the women quietly busied themselves (while I
wrote) in preparing dinner. In a very short time two tables were spread
in the apartment where the meeting had been held. Two tables, I have
said,—and there was one for the men to sit at,—but on the women’s side
the _table_ was formed of benches placed together, and of course was
quite low. I should have supposed that this was a casual occurrence, had
not an acquaintance told me that many years ago, when she attended an
Amish meeting, she sat up to two benches.
Before eating there was a silent pause, during which those men who had
not yet a place at the table stood uncovered reverentially, holding their
hats before their faces. In about fifteen minutes the “first table” had
finished eating, and another silent pause was observed in the same manner
before they rose.
I was invited to the second table, where I found beautiful white bread,
butter, pies, pickles, apple-butter, and refined molasses. I observed
that there were no spoons in the molasses and apple-butter. A cup of
coffee also was handed to each person who wished it. We were not invited
to take more than one.
This meal marks the progress of wealth and luxury, or the decline of
asceticism, since the day when bean soup was the principal, if not the
only, dish furnished on these occasions. The same neighbor who told me of
sitting up to two benches, many years ago, told me that at that time they
were served with bean soup in bright dishes, doubtless of pewter or tin.
Three or four persons ate out of one dish. It was very unhandy, she said.
But while thus sketching the manners of my simple, plain neighbors, let
me not forget to acknowledge that ready hospitality which thus provides a
comfortable meal even to strangers visiting the meeting. Besides myself,
there were at least two others present who were not members,—two German
Catholic women, such as hire out to work.
The silent pause before and after eating was also observed by the second
table; and after we rose a third company sat down.
When all had done, I gave a little assistance in clearing the tables, in
carrying the butter into the cellar and the other food to the wash-house.
The dishes were taken to the roofed porch between the latter and the
house, where some of the women-folk washed them. A neat table stood at
the foot of the cellar-stairs, and received the valued product of the
dairy, the fragments being put away in an orderly manner.
I now had a time of leisure, for my driver had gone to see a friend, and
I must await his coming. This gave me an opportunity to talk with several
sisters. I inquired of a fine-looking woman when the feet-washing would
be held, and when they took the Lord’s Supper. When I asked whether they
liked those who were not members to attend the feet-washing, I understood
her to say that they did not.[8] (I attended, not a great while after, a
great Whitsuntide feet-washing and bread-baking in the meeting-house of
the New Mennonites.)
I had now an opportunity to examine the books. Standing upon a bench,
I took down a great volume, well printed in the German language, and
entitled “The Bloody Theatre; or, The Martyr’s Mirror of the Baptists,
or Defenceless Christians, who, on Account of the Testimony of Jesus,
their Saviour, Suffered and were Put to Death, from the Time of Christ to
the Year 1660. Lancaster, 1814.” This book was a version from the Dutch
(_Holländisch_) of Thielem J. van Bracht, and it has also been rendered
from German into English. I was not aware, at the time, that I had before
me one of the principal sources whence the history of the Mennonites is
to be drawn,—a history which is still unwritten.
The books were few in number, and I noticed no other so remarkable
as this. Another German one, more modern in appearance, was entitled
“Universal Cattle-Doctor Book; or, The Cures of the old Shepherd Thomas,
of Bunzen, in Silesia, for Horses, Cattle, Sheep, Swine, and Goats.”
While I was looking over the volumes, a little circumstance occurred,
which, although not flattering to myself, is perhaps too characteristic
to be omitted. My “Dutch” neighbors are not great readers, and to read
German is considered an accomplishment even among those who speak the
dialect. To speak “Dutch” is very common, of course, but to read German
is a considerable attainment. I have, therefore, sometimes surprised
a neighbor by being able to read the language. I am naturally not
unwilling to be admired, and, as two or three sisters were standing
near while I examined the books, I endeavored in haste to give them a
specimen of my attainments. I therefore took a passage quickly from
the great “Martyr-Book,” and read aloud a sentence like this: “Grace,
peace, and joy through God our Heavenly Father; wisdom, righteousness,
and truth, through Jesus Christ his Son, together with the illumining of
the Holy Spirit, be with you.” Glancing up to see the surprise which my
proficiency must produce, I beheld a different expression of countenance,
for the attention of some of the thoughtful sisters was attracted by the
subject-matter, instead of the reader, and that aroused a sentiment of
devotion beautifully expressed.
I asked our host, “Have you no history of your society?”
“No,” he answered; “we just hand it down.”
I have since heard, however, that there are papers or written records
in charge of a person who lives at some distance from me. From certain
printed records I have been able to trace a streamlet of history from
its source in Switzerland, where the Anabaptists suffered persecution
in Berne, Zurich, etc. I have read of their exile into Alsace and the
Palatinate; of the aid afforded to them by their fellow-believers, the
Mennonites of Holland; and of their final colonization in Pennsylvania,
where they also are called Mennonites. The Amish, however, seem to have
been a body of a more rigid rule, with a preacher named Amen, from whom
they are called. It has been stated that they took their rise in Alsace
in 1693.
Nearly all the congregation had departed when my driver at last arrived.
I shook hands with those that were left, and kissed the pleasant mother
of our host.
SWISS EXILES.
The plain people among whom I live, Quaker-like in appearance, and,
like the Quakers, opposed to oaths and to war, are to a great extent
descendants of Swiss Baptists or Anabaptists, who were banished from
their country for refusing to conform to the established Reformed
Church.[9]
Some of the early exiles took refuge in Alsace and the Palatinate, and
afterwards came to Pennsylvania, settling in Lancaster County, under the
kind patronage of our distinguished first proprietor. William Penn’s
sympathy for them was doubtless increased by their resembling himself in
so many important particulars. Mennonites from Holland were also among
the early settlers at Germantown.
If any one inclines to investigate the traditions of these people, let
him ask the plain old men of the county whence they originated. I think
that a great part of the Amish and other Mennonites will tell him of
their Swiss origin.
Nor are very important written records wanting upon the subject of the
Swiss persecutions. Two volumes in use among our German Baptists narrate
the story. The first is the great Martyr-book, called “The Bloody
Theatre; or, Martyr’s Mirror of the Defenceless Christians,” by Thielem
J. van Bracht, published in Dutch, about the year 1660; translated into
German, and afterwards into English.
The second printed record, circulating in our county, and describing the
sufferings of some of the Swiss Anabaptists, is a hymn-book formerly in
use among our Old Mennists, but now, I think, employed only by the Amish.
It is a collection of “several beautiful Christian songs,” composed in
prison at Bassau, in the castle, by the Switzer Brethren, “and by other
orthodox (_rechtglaubige_) Christians, here and there.”
The first of these works, the Martyr-book, was translated into English
by Daniel Rupp, the historian. I have seen no English version of the
hymn-book. I met both these volumes in the Rhenish Palatinate in 1881.
Bassau, mentioned in the hymn-book as the place where the brethren were
imprisoned, I have supposed to be Passau, upon the Danube, in Bavaria. Is
it not so written in the Martyr-book?
Near the close of the hymn-book is an account of the afflictions which
were endured by the brethren in Switzerland, in the canton of Zurich, on
account of the gospel (“_um des Evangeliums willen_”).
The first-mentioned work, the great Martyr-book, is a ponderous volume.