Tidbits Tell a Tailor's Story

The Schneider's helpers in sewing position





If you go to an Archive such as the one in Koblenz where your ancestors' emigration papers are preserved, a well-meaning archivist may caution you that there is not much point in trying to use these documents for genealogical purposes. If you already know the names and the birth dates of the immigrants and the date they left for North America, there is little to be gained by reading “boiler plate” documents that are the same for everyone.

Sometimes this is true. But in many applications there are tidbits of information that are precious to those of us who want to develop a robust family history. This was certainly the case for my 2nd great grandfather's younger brother, Michael.

Michael Meier was a 24-year-old tailor when he applied for permission to emigrate to North America in September 1856 according to an index in the Family History Library in Salt Lake City. Before my trip to the Koblenz Archive to find his actual emigration documents, I had viewed him as a daring young man who wanted to explore a new country. He was single; therefore he was free to take chances. He had dreams of wealth and prosperity in a land of freedom.
After having his emigration papers translated, I have begun to envision a very different young man.

We start with Michael's letter for permission to leave Irsch for a better life in America. (I've noted in bold the information I feel is important in understanding Michael's story). This letter was the first step in the immigration process and probably dictated to Michael by Burgermeister Bodem.

A most obedient petition of Michael Meier, 24 years old, tailor at Irsch, requesting permission to emigrate.

Your Grace,
I give a most obedient notice that I am of a mind to emigrate to America immediately. The reason for my emigration lies in that I have a sister there who has been there for a year. I wish to visit her and at the same time be able to be trained in the profession of a tailor.

Regarding military service duty, in my view, nothing stands in the way. In 1854 I was declared by the … Department Reserve Commission to be totally unfit for field and garrison service. Therefore, I promise not to join the service of any foreign army, rather only intend for the mentioned purpose of emigration. But because I need a permission to emigrate for this purpose, I take the liberty, your grace, most obediently, to petition, most graciously, that you request for me at the respective office [of Saarburg]

Respectfully signed,
Your most obedient petitioner supplicant
Michael Meier

Along with the application papers sent from Beurig to Saarburg to Trier, a verification of Michael's unsuitability for induction into the Prussian military service was included. In summary it said that in 1854 the military commission in Saarburg had declared Michael Meier to be completely unfit for military service because he was too short and also because he had ulcerous sores on his feet. It was noted that Michael had not yet contracted a ship passage with any agent.

Before I had the information above, I sometimes wondered why Michael had chosen to become a tailor. He came from a family line that had been land-owning farmers for several generations. Yet Michael did not want to work on the land he and his only brother would inherit from their father. Learning about Michael's problem with foot sores, I could guess at the reason for Michael's occupational decision. A tailor or a tailor's helper could spend much of his work day sitting and sewing, as illustrated in the decorative beer stein above.

According to information in the German version of Wikipedia, the tailor sat in a cross legged or Schneidersitz position on a wooden table. This was a good method for sewing long seams and keeping the fabric off of the floor. The four most important tools of a Schneider were needles, thread, an ell measure, and a scissors.

The same Wikipedia article also described the pecking order in the tailor's workshop when guilds ruled the lives of all craftsmen. The master tailor was in charge. He had started as an apprentice, moved on to become a journeyman/Geselle and finally was certified as a master tailor. There were also Nähknecht. These were semi-skilled assistants to the tailor and not usually eligible to rise into a higher position because of physical disability or health problems. They learned only the basics of sewing, mostly closing uncomplicated seams. They would be found sitting on the wooden table stitching side seams, trouser seams, sleeve seams, etc.

An article in Der Blumenbaum, the Quarterly Newsletter of the Sacramento German Genealogical Society gave a good deal more information about the tailor's craft. Here is a brief summary:

Young men started as an apprentice in a trade, such as shoemaker, capenter, blacksmith, tailer, etc. After three to six years of training, it was time for a young apprentice to prove his worth and learn from other masters and from a variety of experiences in order to become a master himself. In English, this would be a journeyman, in Germany a Geselle. And "journey men" they were, for they were required to leave their home villages and with empty pockets travel to other villages and towns to work for masters who could teach them new techniques and where they could perfect their craft. This journey lasted three years and one day and was known by its common name "on der Walz" (on the journey). And it was a journey, for the Geselle could not wander closer than 30 miles to his home village.


















Gesellen on der Walz

The early journeymen belonged to the guilds of the middle ages and the tradition continued into the 19th century. Usually an experienced journeyman accompanied the new Geselle for a week or two. After that, the young man was on his own to find work - but never for more than three months in one place for he must remain a traveler, a stranger.

A uniform of sorts identified the Geselle as an honorable stranger in the town and also indicated what kind of craftsman he might be. A wood worker of any kind would wear a dark color like brown or black, the color of wood. Lighter colors like gray or beige, were worn by men who worked with stone.

Even more than clothing color, the eight buttons set in a double row on his vest, his pants with a flared leg, a collarless white shirt, and a coat with six buttons were signs of a free journeyman out in the world to sharpen his skills. The eight buttons on the vest were meant to represent his eight-hour workday while the six buttons on his coat signified the length of the work week. His hat was one of two kinds. Schlapphut was wide brimmed and floppy as in the drawing above. The "Zylinder" was a top hat, either half or full size. A tie in the color of his guild or lodge completed his traveling uniform.

He carried only few items. One was a "Stenz", a carved cane; another was his pack in which he kept his work clothes and a satchel with his tools, and his diary or Wanderbuch. In it each master for whom he had worked recorded the date and place of the labor. The master also prepared an "Empfehlungskarte, a card similar to a letter of recommendation that vouched for the competence of the Geselle.




Wanderbuch






With the invention of the sewing machine in the middle of the 19th century, the work of the tailor underwent a fundamental change. Long seams were closed by the sewing machine, not by a Nähknecht, an apprentice, or a tailor sitting on a table.

With all of the bits and pieces of information I have learned about young Michael Meier and his chosen trade, my instincts tell me that he was not that adventurous young man off to make his fortune in America. Michael had limited options. He had sores on his feet that prevented marching with an army. Work on the farm required constant standing and walking during the growing and harvesting season. He had chosen a craft that would allow him to earn a living in spite of this handicap. But in order to advance from an apprentice to a skilled master, he was required to walk from town to town to town for three years. This was not something he could undertake. He was trapped as a Nähknecht, sewing long seams for a master who would pay him very little.

His sister Anna and her husband lived in America. Without the strict guild rules for a German master tailor, Michael might have a chance at such a position for himself, learning the trade without making a three-year journey in order to qualify. Did he want to be more than a poorly paid tailor's helper?

Five years later, in 1861, when Michael's brother Johann applied for emigration permission, Mayor Bodem of Beurig penned this explanation as Johann's reason for leaving Irsch: "...to emigrate to North America where he already has two brothers-in-law." Johann did not mention having a brother in America.

So while my knowlege of Michael's life in Irsch is now much clearer and while I have learned so much about the difficult road to becoming a craftsman of any kind, Michael's journey after he obtained his emigration papers remains a mystery for me. I have not been able to find a good match for him in any US census or any ship passenger index. What happened to Michael after September 9, 1856? Did he reach America? Oh how I'd like to know!

(Note: In my previous post, I outlined the typical emigration documents from the Prussian Government.)
Sources:
Der Blumenbaum, Sacramento Genealogical Society, Vol. 26, No. 3: Jan, Feb, March 2009;  http://de.wikipedia.org/;  Division of the Interior of the Royal Government at Trier, Vol. 10, Koblenz Abt 442, Nr. 180 p. 283-287

Pictures:

http://www.brandenburg1260.de/quedlinburg04-4.jpg

www.rechtschaffene-zimmerer.de/

www.gutenberg-museum.de/ index.php

Travels of the Letters in an Emigration File

Webpage "Our American Roots" showing emigration paper from Irrel, Bitburg, Rheinland kept at the Landeshauptarchive Koblenz

Some people who emigrated in the 19th century generated a plethora of paperwork, mostly in the form of letters, when they asked permission to leave their country. I discovered this by accident when I decided to see if I could find a copy of the passport issued to Johann Meier, my great-great grandfather.

At first I was disappointed that no passport copy could be found in the State Archive at Koblenz, Germany. Instead, there were several pages written in a mostly illegible (to me) handwriting that were connected to the emigration of Johann. However, I was touching one page containing the signature of my great-great grandfather. I was thrilled and, at the same time, disappointed because I had no idea if important information might be hidden in the unintelligible handwriting above his signature or in the other documents.

The helpful archivist at the Koblenz Archive read a small portion of one of the documents to me. It told of a problem concerning Johann Meier's military service which had developed and generated an unusual amount of paperwork. This set me to wondering. Where were the officials located who had the power to give approvals to the application? What Government office/s handled the application? How long a time passed before Johann Meier was informed of his problem? Once the problem was resolved, did the original application continue or did Johann have to start over? I wanted to know the rest of the story.

A year later, I found a researcher able to go to the Archive in Koblenz and translate each page of the emigration records for my great-great grandfather. Part of his assignment was to note where these letters traveled in the amount of time between Johann Meier's original application to emigrate on February 20 and the date when the final permission letter of March 5 which had the power to permit Johann Meier and his family to start the process of making the long trip to Wisconsin.

In this post, I've detailed the sequence of the correspondence for Johann Meier's emigration permission. I've noted in bold the date and place where each piece of correspondence was written.

On 20 Feb 1861 there was a hearing at Beurig, the mayorality for both Irsch and Beurig. It was conducted by the Bürgermeister (mayor) Nikolaus Bodem. The result of this hearing was Johann's Meier's "declaration of intent to emigrate" document as handwritten by Herr Bodem.

"Today, farmer Johann Meier, 35 years old, of no military obligation, resident of Irsch, appeared before the undersigned mayor and declared that he intends, with his wife Magdalena Rauls, 33 years old, and his four children Mathias Meier, 11 yrs., Anna Meier, 9 yrs., Johann Meier, 3 yrs., Michel Meier 15 months; to emigrate to North America where he already has two brothers-in-law." To this end, he wants to receive the requisite permission to emigrate.

"Upon his declaration, the undersigned mayor warned him:
1. that on receiving the permission to emigrate, they will, from that point forward, no longer be regarded as Prussian subjects;
2. that their readmission to the fatherland may be denied if such is found to raise any concern;
3. the the permission is null and void if emigration does not actually take place within the specified period."

"After being read the above, the petitioner approved, cosigned and then deposited the requisite 15 Silver Groschens for the consent"

(signed) Johann Meier
(signed) Bürgermeister Bodem*

The above official letter was accompanied by a second brief letter, as follows:

"A br. m. (possibly an abbreviation of the Latin brevi manu, meaning brief handwriting) to his grace the Royal County Commissioner Mersmann at Saarburg with fifteen Silver Groschens for the consent stamp, and the application to be most obediently presented. The said Meier and the members of his family are not on trial in any court case, and have paid their taxes and community fees as far as they are obligated."
Beurig 21 February 1861
(signed) Bürgermeister Bodem*

The above letters were sent on February 21, 1861 to the head administrator of the Saarburg District, Landrat Mersmann. He was the representative of the Prussian Government in an area about the size of an average county in the United States. Evidently, Herr Mersmann dutifully and promptly forwarded this application to the Royal [Prussian] Government, Department of the Interior. On February 22, 1861 he wrote:

"A letter to the Royal Government of the Interior of Trier. To be presented obediently with the application for the gracious issuing of the requested permission to emigrate."
(signed) The Royal County Commissioner Mersmann

On February 27 1861, a week after Johann Meier had made his emigration request, this terse communication was composed by Herr Arndt of the Department of the Interior at Trier and addressed to Landrat Mersmann:

"Originally for the immediate attention of Mr. Examiner for narrower clarification as to why the said Meier, 35 years old is of no military obligation. Please return [an explanation] within eight days!"
Trier, 27 February 1861
(signed) R. R. Arndt

Herr Mersmann lost no time in replying to the correspondence from Trier. I will never know if he had the necessary record concerning Johann Meier's military service in his office, or if he contacted Herr Bürgermeister Bodem or Johann Meier or both of them. But this communication was sent from Saarburg to Trier on March 1, 1861.

"The Royal Government Department of the Interior at Trier, most obediently, with the instruction to remit [confirm] that in 1847 the applicant was designated Battery A by the Deputy Reserve Commission because of Mindermaaß** and has no military obligation."
Saarburg, the 1st of March 1861
The Royal County Commissioner Mersmann"

Johann Meier was most likely unaware of the problem which had developed after his emigration request had been signed and the fee paid. Perhaps he never knew that his application permission was generating documents that were going back and forth between Saarburg and Trier.

The final documents in the emigration file of Johann Meier are dated March 5, 1861 and were sent to Saarburg from Trier.

"To the Royal County Commissioner at Saarburg
Release Certificate of : Johann Meier of Irsch, Saarburg County"

"Enclosed find the certificate of release for Johann Meier of Irsch requested by your office per brevi manu [short letter] Nr. 683 of the 22nd of the prior month. The requested certificate of release is for Johann Meier of Irsch who intends to emigrate to North America. Please deliver the release to him and send to us the Stamp fee of 15 Silver Groschens."

The Release Certificate reads:

"The Royal government named below certifies herewith that the following have been granted a release from the Association of Prussian Subjects:

Farmer Johann Meier, 35 years old from Irsch, Saarburg County, at his request and for the purpose of his emigration to North America; as well as his wife Magdalena Rauls, 33 years old, and the following minor children in the father's custody: 1. Mathias Meier, 11 years old; 2. Anna Meier, 9 years old; 3. Johann Meier, 3 years old; 4. Michel Meier 15 months old. 

This release certificate is valid only for the persons expressly named as of the date of its issuing. The release effectuates the loss of status [rights] as a Prussian Subject. The release certificate expires if not made use of within three months of its issuing."
Trier, 5 March 1861
Royal Prussian Government; Department of the Interior

Beurig and Saarburg were less than a quarter of a mile apart. It is easy to picture a messenger delivering documents betweeen the offices of the Mayor of Beurig and the Landrat of Saarburg. Saarburg and Trier are about 14 miles apart and were sent by the Prussian postal system.  Thus here is the path of great great grandfather's emigration papers:

Johann Meyer of Irsch -------> To Bürgermeister Bodem, Beurig ------->To Landrat Mersmann, Saarburg------>To Herr R.R. Arndts, Royal Department of the Interior in Trier----->To Landrat Mersmann, Saarburg------>To Herr R.R. Arndts, Deparment of the Interior in Trier------>To Landrat Mersmann, Saarburg------->To Bürgermeister Bodem, Beurig------->To Johann Meier, former citizen of Irsch.



"Eisenbahn gegen Postkutsche
("Train against postal coach")

Documents were no doubt handled by postal coach in 1861, since the railroad connecting Saarburg and Trier had only recently been finished. Eventually the railroads put the postal coaches out of existence. But it would seem that for short distance delivery, the postal coach of 1861 may have been just as timely as today's U.S. mail system.

* Mayor Bodem had a flamboyant signature; one of which he was probably very proud.
** Mindermaß is a term which means that Johann Meier was too short for military service.

For more information about the emigration process, see my archived post for April, 2006.


Source:
Abteilung des Innern der Königlichen Regierung zu Trier, Vol. 12, Seite 1-746, Classe V, Section 1, Littera C, Koblenz Abt. 442 Nr. 181

Nikolaus, Knecht Ruprecht, and the "Cheeky" Girl

In past posts, I've written about Saint Nikolaus Eve, both in the early centuries and in more recent times. But I can't resist one more St. Nikolaus story, this one from perhaps 50 or so years ago. You've probably heard of the film "The Nightmare before Christmas." This one could be called "The Nightmare before St. Nikolaus Day". A woman who lived in Irsch as a child and experienced a fearsome Nikolaus visit tells her story like this:

The Nikolaus Eve at our Home

For my siblings and me, the observance of Nikolaus Eve was full of stress because Nikolaus brought his assistant, the servant Ruprecht (Knecht-Ruprecht in German*). And he left behind a very fearful impression on me.

Now the evening was here and the banging and chain rattling on the wooden steps outside our door were so great that it was frightening and we were afraid. The kitchen door was flung open with great force and Nikolaus and Knecht Ruprecht came inside.

Knecht Ruprect's red tongue showed all the while because he let it hang out of his mouth. On his back he lugged a sack that was so big that a child would fit inside. Two long, stuffed stockings with shoes sewed to them were stuck to the outside of the bag, a sight that scared me stiff because I thought I would be stuck to the bag in the same way. I started to bawl.

Nikolaus took his big book and quickly leafed through it as if he already knew what the devil had written in it. He looked at me and then said that I had been rude to my Aunt Lena. And he had observed that, in the street, I was a cheeky child. He was going to take me with him, just as I had feared. But before he took me away, I should pray the "Our Father."

As I finished the Our Father, Knecht Ruprecht tugged at me. But I held on to the cutlery drawer. I pulled on it with force and it swung out of the cupboard with a dreadful clanging.

My grandma came down the stairs and helped me out of my jam. In that moment, I loved my grandma more than ever.

As a punishment, Nikolaus gave me a stick and he and Ruprecht started away. But my grandma wasn't finished with them; she snatched a gift from Nikolaus. Face beaming, she brought it to me

Thus ends the story submitted by Hedwig Rice to the monthly Irsch internet newsletter - sent free to subscribers with an interest in reading it.

My family, descended from ancestors who once lived in Irsch, also celebrated St. Nicholas Eve. After reading Frau Rice's story, I'm grateful that St. Nicholas came alone to our Wisconsin farm home and the only sound we heard was of his sleighbells. Never did our cutlery drawer suffer from a visit from St. Nicholas!

*For more on the history of Sankt Nikolaus and Knecht Ruprecht, use the search box at the top of the page.

Salt Lake City Discovery

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Temple in the foreground, the Tabernacle in the center, and our hotel (the Plaza) and the Family History Library at the far left (Photo by Carole Kortenhof)


Eliminating possibilities - that's mostly what I did during my stay in Salt Lake City last month. I can't complain, or course, because previous visits have given me the names and stories of my ancestors from Irsch, Zerf, and Serrig in Kreis Saarburg. By now, though, I am seeking bits and pieces, looking for hints to collateral line relatives whose success at hiding from me could stymie Sherlock Holmes himself.

One interesting snippet that I discovered was from The Antwerp Emigration Index by Charles Hall. I had never paid much attention to it because it covers only one year, 1855, and only one port. This time I picked it up on the offhand chance that it would help me solve a mystery that so far has me totally frustrated.

I am searching for the younger sister of my 2nd great grandfather, Johann Meier. When he emigrated in 1860, he told the Mayor of Beurich, who was taking his application, that he was going to America to improve his life and that he already had two brother-in-laws in America. One brother-in-law was Matthias Rauls, the brother of Johann's wife, Magdelena. The other had to be the husband of his sister Anna. Unfortunately, Anna did not marry in the parish church of Irsch, her home parish. It's possible that she married in her husband's parish and then the two left for America. It is also possible that she decided to emigrate when she was still single and left before any real emigration records are available, marrying somewhere in her adopted homeland. Thus I don't know if I am searching for Anna Meier or Anna _______. Complicating my life is the fact that emigration records from the Trier area before 1856 do not seem to have been kept.

After searching for Anna's marriage record in the parishes neighboring her home village of Irsch and finding nothing, I decided to see if the 1855 Antwerp Emigration Index showed any trace of her. Once again, no Anna Meier. But what I did find delighted me. In that year, 37 residents of Zerf/Frommersbach left Antwerp for America on the ship Daylight.
I have a 662 page book about the history of Zerf (in German) and it lists all of the emigrants who were found in emigration documents filed in the Koblenz Archive. Not any of the thirty-seven passengers on the Ship Daylight are named in that history. So even though I did not find anyone I was looking for, I'm able to write my own personal addendum to "Der Hochwaldort Zerf am Fuße des Hunsrücks" by Edgar Christoffel. And I'll keep looking for Anna.
We know that people from the Rhineland began to emigrate in the 1840s. Passports were issued at that time, but the Archive at Koblenz does not have the paperwork which made those passports possible to locate for the Trier and Saarburg region. It was not until about 1857 that a systematic effort was undertaken to keep emigration papers.
Before the completion of the Trier to Saarbrucken railroad in 1860, Antwerp was the most accessible seaport for emigrants leaving the Trier and Saarburg area for other countries.
According to the introduction to the book, The Antwerp Emigration Index was extracted and compiled by the non-profit organization, Heritage International. “It deals with emigrants from Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Belgium, France and the Netherlands…There are in excess of 5,100 immigrants whose origins are given here.“ Heritage International used the passenger records of 38 ships which left the port of Antwerp in the year 1855. “…Destinations of the emigrants were New York, Boston, New Orleans, Rio Grande & Australia.”
Unfortunately, the researchers did not give the destination of each one of the 38 sailings (most of the ships sailed two times from Antwerp to their destination), nor did they give sailing dates, except that they gave each ship a number according to its first departure date of the year. The Zerf emigrants were on Ship No. 28, the Daylight. It left Antwerp during the last third of the sailing season and yet this was its first sailing from the port of Antwerp.
The passenger list information furnished in the Antwerp Emigration Index gives: 1. Passenger Name 2. Age 3. Place (whether of residence or birth is not clear) 4. Ship Number 5. Place Where Passport Was Issued. (These were people who were emigrating legally and almost all of them had a passport that was issued in Trier)
Aboard the Ship Daylight
1. Johann Allmescheid, age 57, from Oberzerf
2. Mary Allmescheid, age 51, from Oberzerf
3. Johann Baermohen, age 28 from Zerf
4. Johanna Baermohen, age 39 from Zerf
5. Nikolaus Bernardz(y), age 26, from Oberzerf
6. Susanna, Brixus, age 44, from Zerf
7. Johann Peter Christ, age 52, from Zerf
8. Gert. Christ, Gert., age 47, from Zerf
9. Matthias Eiler, age 53, from Zerf
10. M. Eiler, age 50, from Zerf
11. Matthias Lillig, age 37, from Zerf
12. Sus. Lillig, age 40, from Zerf
13. Johannes Lillig, age 39, from Zerf
14. Margaretha Lillig, age 37, from Zerf
15. Michael Maier, age 32, from Zerf
16. Sus. Maier, age 33, from Zerf
17. Johannes Maier, age 56, from Zerf
18. Helena Maier, age 47, from Zerf
19. Nic. Merz, age 48, from Zerf
20. M. Merz, age 43, from Zerf
21. Jacob Muller, age 58, from Zerf
22. Johannes Muller, age 38, from Zerf
23. Cath. Muller, age 42, from Zerf
24. Joh. Muller, age 39, from Zerf
25. Moore Muller, age 48, from Zerf
26. Joh. Palm, age 57, from Frommersbach
27. A. Palm, age 57, from Frommersbach
28. Johannes Schneider, age 39, from Zerf
29. Barb. Schneider, age 39, from Zerf
30. Nic. Schneider, age 53, from Zerf
31. Johannes Schommer, age 42, from Frommersbach
32. A. Schommer, age 36, from Frommersbach
33. Math. Schwindling, age 53, from Zerf
34. Cath. Schwindling, age 56, from Zerf
35. Pet. Schwindling, age 30, from Zerf
36. Susanna Schwindling, age 27, from Zerf
37. Johannes Wagner, age 58, from Zerf
A few random thoughts about this boatload of Zerf villagers. The average age of the emigrants was 47.7 years old and 30 per cent of the emigrants were over 50. And something seems to be missing - no children are listed - and I have no explanation why!

The Village School

Top: "Auf der Eselbank" (the donkey bench for fools), woodcut from around 1880
Bottom: A music lesson

As teachers return to their classrooms for the school season, it seems a good time to step back into history and look at the typical classroom in small villages in the Saarburg area. There is a wealth of material about education in the villages of Irsch, Zerf, and Serrig (Kreis Saarburg), taken from three village history books written by Ewald Meyer, Edward Christoffel, and Klaus Hammächer as well as from the Roscheiderhof on-line museum tour.

Ewald Meyer and Edward Christoffel were teachers in Saarburg before their retirement, and it isn't surprising that they looked at schooling from the perspective of both the school teacher and of the students whom they taught. Because their books overwhelm me with information, I'm going to cherry pick the facts that appeal to me and that I may want to find again later. What a nice feature of Blogspot that anyone can "word search" the entire blog with words like "school" or "teacher" or "1849" or"eselbank" (the donkey bench was the equivalent of wearing a dunce cap)

Education in early times

Ewald Meyer describes the beginnings of the occupation of schoolmaster in the very early days of the village of Irsch. He says that in the beginning, there were no schoolhouses. The schoolteacher went from house to house to teach, probably receiving payment in kind at each place that took him in. The first reference to a salary for a teacher is found in the 1302 when Irsch was governed by the Electors in Trier (Archbishops who were princes of the church and who participanted with the secular princes in governing the German states). The mention of salaries for teachers does not occur in any further documents until the end of the 17th century.

By 1780, Irsch and Serrig, which were sister parishes, had school houses that were rated as "good" upon an inspection by Pastor Canaris from Konz, who had been designated as school visitor by the Trier Archbishop. The school in Beurich, about a mile from Irsch, was not completely finished. The children of Ockfen and Krutweiler received their education in the main room of various houses in those villages. There were 31 boys and 25 girls enrolled in the Irsch school; approximately the same number in Serrig. The emphasis was on reading. None of the children in Serrig could write or do arithmetic; in Irsch there were five boys who could write as well as read.

The teacher/sacristen of Irsch was paid in money (the alb) and grain for his church duties such as grave digging. He received more for digging an adult parish member's grave than for that of a child. He had a small piece of meadow land, enough to give him about a wagonload of hay and three very small pieces of garden. He shared in the drudgery and duties of any ordinary citizen of the village except that he did not have to take a turn as village watchman. When a storm was approaching, he would be the one to ring the church bells. Each child taught to read and write brought him 14 alb; reading only brought him 12 alb.

Teaching School in the "French Time"

Irsch and Zerf became a part of France when Napolean redrew the map of Europe. Under the new regime, the children were to be educated with the ideals of the French revolution, says Edgar Christofel. Every community was to have a primary school. In Zerf, the municipal administrator, who had the reponsibility for hiring a teacher, chose Nikolaus Goetten, the son of the retired Caspar Goetten, who had been the village teacher in the time of the Electors.

The curriculum was ambitious in the early years of the French government. In addition to reading and writing in both German and French, the students were to be taught arithmetic, natural history, health and how to be a "moral" citizen of this new French Republican government. Religious instruction was not to be given.

This ambitious educational curriculum was hindered greatly by the lack of education of the teachers (a common problem in most villages) as well as the meager pay. There were courses designed to improve instruction offered by the Catholic Church, and Herr Goetten of Zerf had taken the short training course offered by the seminary at St. Mathias in Trier. That first curriculum initiated by the French government fell by the wayside by 1802. The revised curriculum consisted of reading, writing, arithmetic, and French (if the teacher was knowledgeable in that language). By 1809, the curriculum had been reduced to reading, writing, and "a basic understanding of arithmetic." Religious instruction was again allowed, since almost all the schools were still connected to the village churches.

Most of the Zerf teachers at this time had to supplement the pittance they received from the villages for their work as teachers. They lived in the schoolhouse or taught out of their own homes. The Zerf teacher, Nikolaus Goetten, lived in a cold damp schoolhouse which was badly built and covered with a straw roof.

Schools in the Early Days of Prussian Rule

According to the Irsch parish history, there was a school inspection in November of 1816. The report on school conditions identifies Matthias Romey as the only teacher for the school. It says that this teacher "earned very little in the way of money or produce" and lived, with his wife, in the school building. Since he taught only from mid-November until Easter each year, he supplemented his income by spinning wool. The report then noted that he did his job happily and was "loved and treasured" by the community.

Most teachers in village schools had to have additional work, especially in the months when school was not in session, a period from Easter until the feast of St. Martin on November 11. Such jobs as pig herder or broom binder provided supplementary income so that the village teachers could support their families. One school report noted that the teacher carried out his trade as a broom binder whenever his class became too clamorous, leaving the classroom to get away from the noise.

In 1816 there were about 100 children in the Irsch schoolhouse which, as just mentioned, was also living quarters for Herr Romey and his wife. It was much too small to be a satisfactory place of learning. The priest who oversaw the school villages tried to help the community develop a plan for a larger building in 1819. However, there was so much poverty that the villagers could not come up with enough money for such a project and no help was forthcoming from the Prussian government. Finally, in 1828 a new "double schoolhouse" was built. The village added another teacher's house in 1833 when a second teacher was hired. The principal subjects taught were reading, writing, arithmetic, and Bible instruction.

Zerf too needed another teacher. The school population was as high as 100 students in 1826. As in Irsch, school subjects were reading, writing and arithmetic along with religious instruction. The children were divided, boys in one section, girls in another. But by 1837 the students were separated in a new way, into a lower school and an upper school. It seems, from Herr Christofel's account, that both sections were instructed by the one teacher, Nicholas Goetten until 1833 when another teacher (unnamed) was hired. Herr Goetten was 60 years old at that time. In addition, he performed the duties of a sacristan for the church. Nikolaus Trapp began a teaching career in Zerf when he was engaged to teach the older children in 1837. At this time he also took over the duties of sacristan. Herr Goetten continued teaching because he had no pension and no other means of support. This was the situation for most teachers well past the mid-point of the century.

Klaus Hammächer, in his history of the village of Serrig, the sister parish of Irsch, says that the schoolrooms of the early 19th century were usually also the home of the teacher, since most villages could not afford a separate residence for him. The teacher's workroom was also the living quarters for him and his family and inadequate for either one. Often the classroom was narrow and humble, cold and damp, not a good place for instruction or for hygiene. Its furnishings were paltry; there was no regulation of what equipment a schoolroom should have. Long planks served as school benches, and the students were crowded on to them. Their writing table served double duty as the eating table of the teacher's family or a worktable for whatever occupation the teacher had to supplement his income. The teacher's desk might be a small wall table, if such a thing was available at all.

School in the Second Half of the 19th Century



"Wooden benches arranged in even rows, blackboard rags tied to the slates, and a slightly raised desk in front of the class - this is how a classroom looked during the Empire." Roscheiderhof Museum describes its recreation of a village classroom that dates from sometime around 1890.

The guide to the Roscheiderhof Museum says that by the midpoint of the 19th century, the concept of universal education and teacher training was common in all areas of Prussian Empire. Usually schools in the country had only one class, where the village children were taught by one teacher only, from the first year of schooling to the eighth. This meant the schoolroom was often bursting at the seams. The guiding figure for class size was 60 pupils, but often there were up to 100 children sitting on the benches. It is therefore understandable if lessons seemed to be taught by rote: the teacher presented the material, the pupils learned it by repeating it or copying it.

Apart from reading, writing and arithmetic, music and religion were very important subjects in the schools of the Empire. Not only were hymns practiced in music lessons, but also patriotic songs which were sung on high holidays such as the Emperor's birthday. Physical exercise was considered part of the school's contribution to pre-military training, and this is why only boys had it. They had to line up in pairs and practice marching on the teacher's orders. Girls had handiwork lessons at the same time. They usually crocheted, knitted and darned, but also cooking, baking and preserving were taught.

Religious instruction was usually given by the pastors. A distinction was made between Bible history and "Catechism". In addition to this religious instruction the church had a great influence on school life. Educating the children to be good Christians was the goal. In order to achieve this, the village youth were subjected to the authority of the pastor and teacher beyond the school room. Anyone who was caught stealing apples in the afternoon or seen out on the streets at a late hour, or who did not attend mass before school was punished with a caning. School was supposed to instill discipline, and a good upbringing was considered more important than education.

By the 1890's, schools were improving as the economy all over the Prussian empire got better. There were schools with the proper furniture and with lists of materials that every single-class school must have, such as a globe, wall maps, pictures for the study of natural science, violin, abacus, and two large blackboards. Especially in the cities, a child beginning school was given a Schultüten, a large, cone-shaped parcel filled with pencils, rulers, crayons, candy and other small items to mark the special occasion.

Christoffel, Edgar. Der Hochwald Zerf am Fuße des Hunsrücks. Verlag W. Rasier, Saarburg 1981.
Meyer, Ewald. Irsch/Saar: Geschichte eines Dorfes. Ewald Meyer, 54451 Irsch, 2002
Hammächer, Klaus. Serrig: Landschaft, Geschichte & Geschichten. 2002
http://www.roscheiderhof.de/topframe-e.html
"The Schooling of German Youth," Der Blumenbaum. Sacramento German Genealogy Society, Nov.,Dec. 2005

When They Stepped Ashore

April 9, 1861. What an unforgetable day it must have been for my Meier ancestors and the other immigrant from the village of Irsch bei Saarburg when they saw their adopted country for the first time.

After more than four weeks in the cramped and dark steerage quarters of the ship Rattler with only the endless ocean as their scenery, land appeared on the horizon. They were nearing the bay of New York where the ship would drop anchor. Soon Johann and Magdalena Meier and their children would set foot on land for the first time in over a month. Magdalena, my great-great grandmother, who was then three months pregnant must have thanked God not only for their safe journey but also for the long-awaited cessation of the rocking motion that had gone on for 34 days. Whether the day was sunny and clear or dark with rain, all the emigrants must have crowded the deck as the sailors were preparing the ship to anchor in the port of New York City.

I don’t have any letters written home to Germany that describe the trip and the first day in the new world. But I have found two stories in The New York Times that allow me to better imagine the minor but fascinating details that can only be provided by a contemporary’s view of the landing, the disembarking, and the first day inside of Castle Garden.

One newspaper piece was written in 1855 by a New York Times reporter sent to provide the paper's readers with an account of the Castle Garden facility that had only recently opened. The second piece was a description provided to The New York Times by a Female steerage passenger on the Ship Scotland which landed in New York Harbor in December of 1866.

Sound-bite reporting and tight editing were unheard of in the 19th century. We may smile at the florid descriptions allowed in the early newspapers, so different from the news we read in our newspapers today. But those verbose stories are filled with the details that give the true flavor of the early days of Castle Garden.

Passenger: “We had seen multitudes of churches, public buildings, factories, stores, and other structures, as we steamed up the Bay, but the one we had now arrived at, Castle Garden, attracted particular attention, principally, in all probability, from its being the emigrants' destination. The eye of a military man would have singled it out first and foremost as a structure pertaining to his profession, while the eye of a civilian or of an ordinary observer would have taken it for a huge reservoir or gas-holder.”

Did my Meier ancestors walk down a gangplank right onto the boards of the pier? Perhaps. But so many ships sailed into the New York’s harbor that not all of them could find a free dock there. Some ships remained out in the bay and their passengers were taken to the shore by barges pulled by steamers; their trunks and boxes came to shore by the same process. Making the transfer to the smaller boats would have been a difficult process, it seems to me, especially for families with babies or very young children.

Reporter: Now passing the heavy door of old Castle Clinton—that was its name until 1823—let us push straight through to the opposite side and out upon the wharf. Here is a busy time. A heavily-loaded emigrant ship has just anchored in the stream, and the barge Pilgrim, towed by a steamer, is now just fastened to the pier with all her company and their luggage. The ship is the Mary, of Havre, and her passengers are of the better class,—stout, clean looking Hollanders (Germans?), hopeful and hearty peasants from France—men who have a trade in their hands, skill in their brawny arms, and money in their pockets, and women who promise to be helpmates for industrious and intelligent men. As they leave the barge, they are examined with reference to their health, and to discover if any of them should be conveyed to the Hospital."

Arriving on land at last, did Johann and Magdalena instinctively draw back as they saw a group of officials waiting for them? Would they have known, as they were formed into a line and started toward a corridor that led into Castle Garden, that these officials only wanted to help them, not to confront them with some unexpected problem or harsh scrutiny? And they must have worried as all of the trunks and boxes of the passengers, including their own, disappeared from their sight to a place unknown.


The eyes of the younger single men in their group must have seen the posters meant to attract these new immigrants as they passed into Castle Garden. The posters offered a way to get what must have seemed a great deal of money to unmarried men with little cash in their pockets. All that was necessary to earn this money was a willingness to enlist in the Union Army - citizenship not required. Men from the Prussian Empire were especially sought after since they were thought to have undergone at least two years of military service in the service of the Kaiser.

Reporter: On Thursday several ... hopeful gentlemen dressed themselves in emigrants’ clothes and tried to gain admittance (to Castle Garden) under the pretense of having been landed in company with those just arrived. But the dodge did not work. Others pleaded earnestly to get in to see a father or a brother, a sister or other relative, who was among the passengers. But they were too well known to palm themselves off on that pretense...These runners have sucked the life-blood of emigrants for so long that they think they have a right to it.

If they encountered a disturbance like the one just described, Johann, Magdalena, and any of the people who did not speak English could not be blamed for thinking that honest immigrants like themselves were being kept from entering the building. Misgiving, fear, and curiosity would have shown on the faces of all the passengers who waited for their own chance to walk into Castle Garden.

Passenger: All being ready, the emigrants proceed in a body up the corridor into the interior of the building, their boxes and baggage being removed to the luggage warehouses, and here they range themselves in order on the seats. In front of them, and in the centre of the building, which is lit by a glass dome, stand a staff of some dozen gentlemen, all busily engaged in making arrangements for facilitating the movements and promoting the settlement of the newly-arrived emigrants. Each emigrant, man, woman and child, passes up in rotation to the Bureau, and gives to the registrar his or her name and destination, as a check upon the return of the Captain of the vessel, who gives the name, place of birth, age and occupation.

Johann and Magdalena, along with the other immigrants from Irsch, look around as they wait to be called forward to an important-looking official who is asking questions. They cast questioning glances at other arrivals who are taking the hard wood seats that circle around the building. One of the people already interviewed comes back to acquaintances who still wait in line. They hear him say, "Have not fear; they ask only what we have already been asked by the clerk of the ship captain. Ja, the questions answer easy."

Passenger: One of the leading officers connected with the Bureau of Information then mounts a rostrum, and addressing the assembled emigrants, tells them that such as are not otherwise provided for, or prepared to pay for their accommodation, can find shelter under the roof of that building; that advice and information of the best and most reliable kind can be had relative to tickets for railway and steamer to take them East, West, North or South; as to the best means of obtaining employment, for which a register is kept in the Intelligence Department of the Institution; also as to the best and most expeditious routes to take, with facilities for corresponding with friends, and of changing money at the Bureau of Exchange.

Do the Meiers and the other families from Irsch already know the route they will take to Wisconsin? Perhaps, since a few of their neighbors already live there and may have sent letters with advice about the best route. If not, they soon find an official who speaks German and directs them to information or to ticket sellers who are forbidden to make unfair charges.
Reporter: If any are ignorant of the routes West an officer points out the peculiarities of each, shows the nearest route to distant places, and informs them of the prices of tickets. Maps of the States and of the routes are hung about the room, and if the officer does his duty, no intelligent man need decide until he knows the general features of the land that lies between the promised land and Castle Garden. This information is what almost every emigrant needs.


Days after day at sea with almost no way to wash. Magdalena and the other women have tried to keep their families clean but it has been impossible. They wish for some of their homemade lye soap and a basin of water. The German families find each other, attracted by a language that they can understand. As they begin to share stories, a man who is dressed in a suit and who is very clean and well-groomed approaches them. To their delight, he speaks their language. Men and boys, he says, should go to the right, women to the left. He smiles. "Don't worry" he says, "You will find each other easily once you come out of the baths. Decide now on your meeting place." Baths? Have they really heard that word?

Reporter: "Next, the emigrant is shown to the baths. We join the crowd of males that flock in to the right. Here we find a large room, in the centre of which hang several coarse roller towels, and along the side is a deep trough of running Croton. This is the wash-room. Soap abounds—we hope no motives of niggardly economy will ever make it lose plenty. Behind a screen that reaches across the room is the basin for bathing. A dozen or two can be accommodated in it at the same time. Indeed, every facility is granted the new comer, whatever may be his condition on entering it, to leave Castle Garden personally clean. The female bath and wash-room were the counterpart of the male, but as it was in use at the time, we consented to take the statement of our conductor and forgo a personal investigation."

The word goes around. Trunks and boxes from the Ship Rattler are now unloaded. They wait on the wharf for someone to claim them. Magdalena waits with the younger children. Johann takes 11-year-old Mathias with him to look for the family's precious belongings.
Reporter: Back now to the Weighmaster on the wharf each head of a family must go, point out his luggage, and receive a certificate of its aggregate weight. Now, if the emigrant desires to stop in the City, he may leave his luggage, to be called for when wanted...But few by this arrival elect to stop here—for they are wise enough to push on where they will be welcomed—to the West. All such are directed to the Clerk in an office at the front part of the building, where they exhibit their tickets, if they purchased them in the old country, or purchase new ones if unsupplied...Most prefer to go on at once. And such need not wait long. The barge is soon reloaded with the baggage, and the steamer again fastening and they are borne in the several depots they are to go by without cost, and deposited just in time to take the next train onward.
After the last few days on the ship, when the weather was stormy and the food supply was nearly gone, everyone in steerage had longed for fresh food; hearty bread, homemade cheese, milk taken from cow to table. Inside Castle Garden, their eyes widened as they saw what had been so longed for, now within their reach
Passenger: In a far corner of each compartment is a kind of refectory, where for fifteen or twenty cents you can obtain a half a pint of coffee, a roll, cheese or butter; but many of the emigrants appeared to prefer purchasing their own tea and coffee, and preparing it in tin utensils in the stoves. There are two water taps and an iron ladle at each end of the division, from which draughts of the Croton are in constant request, nothing in the shape of wine, lager beer or spirits being all owed to be sold upon the premises.
Johann and the other men of Irsch bought food and coffee, grateful for its freshness and surprised at the white flour rolls which required no chewing. Although the Meiers and their fellow villagers were all exceedingly hungry, they paused to pray over this first meal, thanking God for bringing them safely once more to land. Then they ate; and, I think, the men winked and laughed together and agreed that life could only be better if they had a mug of Saar wine to wash it down.
Reporter: A tall fountain feeds a noble basin of water near the spot where the old stage was...The children were rollicking about it--sailing their paper boats, and full of unrestrained glee. The women eat in groups, talking in some of those crooked old country languages that make us wonder how any talking can be done there until the people come of age,—some knitting, some cutting and eating slices of rye German bread and cheese, some patching and fixing up the wardrobes of their family...The whole castle is theirs to ramble in, and none hinder any, wherever they choose to stop in it. The best seats are free, and numbers that at Jenny Lind’s concerts sold at fabulous prices, were open to the poorest.
And what of the children? I picture the three Meier children, Mathias, Anna, and little Johann, growing accustomed to these new surroundings. No longer awed by the immensity of Castle Garden and now unafraid of separation from their parents, they explored. They listened to the foreign words that flowed from each small group of people and imitated the sounds. They splashed each other with water from the big fountain until they were shooed away by sour-faced woman who was trying to sooth her screaming baby. They made faces at the Dutch children; then made friends with them. On this day, they were shabby and pale but very happy.
Passenger: It was nearly evening before all the business connected with the emigrant department was over and the emigrants began to settle down in their new locality, and the building being lit up with gas gave a more cheerful aspect to the interior, and enabled us to survey the somewhat novel scene before us. You could at first imagine, were you not painfully concious to the contrary, that all those human beings seated on the benches had assembled to witness some theatrical entertainment. On looking right and left, an arrangement will be observed to have been effected, once the emigrants marched in miscellaneously---the Germans and Dutch, who form by far the most numerouse body, being parceled off into the eastern portion of the building, which is seperated from the other portion, which contains indiscriminately English, Irish, Scotch and French. Two very civil and intelligent watchmen reconnoitre during the night to keep order...
Reporter: It (Castle Garden) is utterly given up to young and old, lads and lasses, old men and crusty maids to wander at will throughout it, talking about good old times and plotting for future revenue on Western prairies, or arranging for the service of the clergyman, and the quiet cottage and the babies that are to be born.
Amen!

Sources:
"Castle Garden: One Lady's Experience," New York Times, Dec. 23, 1868 (see) http://members.tripod.com/~Silvie/CastleGarden.html
"Castle Garden: New Emigrants are Treated on Landing," New York Daily Times, August 4, 1855, Page 1 (see) http://www.theshipslist.com/pictures/castlegarden1855.htm

Castle Garden - the Little Known Immigration Depot

Castle Garden



Ellis Island


Did your Rhineland ancestors pass through Ellis Island, leaving their homes behind them? Probably not, since the majority of Germans landed in New York during the middle years of the 19th century, a time when there was no "Isle of Tears."

Somehow Ellis Island has usurped all the fame of the immigration story. As many beginning genealogists search for their German roots, they are frustrated to learn that there are no immigration records for their ancestors available in the Ellis Island Immigration Center's database. "Why?" they ask. They have grown up believing every immigrant ship brought its load of passengers into the forbidding fortress where only the lucky ones received permission to continue their journey into the "new country." Ellis Island is as well known as President Abraham Lincoln, but our 19th Century ancestors' immigration center was almost always Castle Garden. And Castle Garden is about as familiar as President Millard Fillmore (our 13th US President).

The scenes I am about to describe are from a very good television series called "Germans in America." You may already have seen it or will find in soon on the schedule of your public television station. The four segments, focusing on the German immigrant experience, were produced in Germany for German television audiences and now has been translated into English. But I found it misleading at one point. See what you think.

Scene 1: Immigrants are shown waiting in long lines at Ellis Island, then being examined and told their fate. Would one family member be rejected and told to return to the home country. Should those family members who had passed the physical test return with their family member or stay in America? Small wonder Ellis Island was often called the "Isle of Tears." Fade to...

Scene 2: The year is 1849. A young man, Karl Steinweg, writes his family in Germany to come and join him. He is already in New York, having fled to the United States after taking part in the revolution of 1848. Fade to...

Scene 3: In the 1860's, another family arrives. The Julius Gumpertz family - father, mother and four children - hope to change their lives for the better in the new world.

The way these scenes are sequenced leaves viewers with the impression that the Steinweg family and the six members of the Gumpertz family sailed into New York harbor, saw the Statue of Liberty, were marched through Ellis Island, and finally declared fit to enter New York City and go on with their lives. It's good drama but nothing like the arrival of either of the two families, because Ellis Island immigration station did not open until 1892 nor was the Statue of Liberty fully assembled until July of 1886.

Before 1855, German immigrants arriving at the Port of New York were hardly noticed in any official kind of way. Once their ship was declared free of disease and the automatic quarantine was lifted, ship passengers and their luggage were loaded on to smaller boats and taken to one of five piers in the city. Here they found themselves on their own. Often the people who spoke the German language were con men who attempted to lure the newcomers to run-down boarding houses or to "help" them purchase tickets for passage to their end destination. These costs were usually two or three times higher than fair prices. Some of the immigrants gave their money to a "helpful countryman" and never saw him or their money again. The 1849 immigrant Steinwegs were completely on their own when they left their ship.

The 1860 Gumpertz family, as well as many of my German ancestors, had a better start. They went to Castle Garden, a receiving station for immigrants. Its purpose was not to limit immigration but to safeguard the new immigrants as well as prevent sickness from being spread to the residents of New York City. There was less drama here than at Ellis Island. Castle Garden, opened on August 3, 1855, was a place of temporary refuge for our immigrant ancestors, concentrating on services to help these new arrivals in a country they hoped to call their new home.

Castle Garden was located at the tip of lower Manhattan in Battery Park, a 23 acre waterfront park at the tip of Manhattan. It was constructed between the years 1807 and 1811 as part of a chain of harbor forts that could defend New York City against a naval attack. It was first known as the West Battery, but was renamed Castle Clinton in 1815 after George Clinton, the first governor of the state of New York. In 1823, the U.S. Army withdrew from the fortress, leaving it to New York City authorities, who in turn permitted private investors to take it over. These investors reopened it several months later as a center for social events and gave it a new name: Castle Garden. Jenny Lind, the famous Swedish soprano, once performed there for an audience of 4,000. But in 1855, the state of New York's Board of Emigration Commissioners decided to use the building for immigration purposes.

There were about 100 people who worked at the Castle Garden Landing Depot. There were inspectors who boarded the incoming ships to see how many passengers were aboard the vessel, and how clean it was. When the ship docked in New York City harbors, other agents transported the immigrants by barge or tugboat to the castle for medical exams. The sick were sent to Ward's Island for medical attention and the rest were brought into the rotunda of Castle Garden. After their names, nationalities, old residences, and destinations were recorded, the immigrants were sent to the baggage delivery. If the immigrant was not staying in the city, he could make arrangements here to forward their trunks or boxes to the final destination.

Back inside Castle Garden, there was a department with personnel who helped write letters in various languages for those immigrants who were illiterate; German, French, Italian, Spanish, Dutch, Czech, Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, Polish, Portuguese, Swiss-German, Russian, and Latin interpreters were available. Thus any immigrant could mail a first letter back to the homeland.

The new arrivals also found a place here where they could safely change their foreign money into American currency, as well as a strictly regulated list of the 76 immigrant boardinghouse keepers allowed representation at the Castle. A restaurant, bread stands, washrooms, even a Western Union Telegraph Company branch were also available on the premises.

Barry Moreno, who works in the reference library at the Statue of Liberty National Monument and Ellis Island Immigration Museum in New York City, says, "Today, Castle Garden swarms with tourists who come to buy ferry tickets for an excursion to the Statue of Liberty or Ellis Island. Only a few observe the stone walls that surround them; almost none go inside the modest exhibit gallery at the entrance to the castle. But those who pause within that quiet space will learn a startling fact: they are standing in a citadel that in bygone years was the great threshold to America for millions of migrants, a place where such travelers paused before journeying onward to new homes and livelihoods. Castle Garden is the true golden door to which poetess Emma Lazarus refered in her 1883 sonnet, 'Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me...''

I'm very glad my Rhineland Ancestors found a friendly, helpful country when they reached our shores.


Sources:
Moreno, Barry, "Castle Garden: The Forgotten Gateway," Ancestry Magazine
"Germans in America," Axel Engstfeld Filmproduktion, in collaboration with WDR/Cologne and ARTE, and with the support of North Rhine-Westphalia’s Film Funding Board (Filmstiftung NRW) and the Goethe-Institute

The Army Calls and I Must Go?

The storming of the Frankfurt barricades by Prussian Army


You probably believe, as I once did, that your Kreis Saarburg male ancestor served as a soldier in an imposing and well-trained Prussian army after the outcome of the Napoleonic wars gave the Rhineland to the Prussian Empire. I've heard, over and over in genealogy workshops, that the male population of the Prussian Empire were subject to three years of active military duty beginning at age 21.

When I began to try to put my ancestors into their historical setting, I pictured Johann Meier, my great-great grandfather, donning his Prussian military uniform and marching away from home to serve with other Prussian troops. But that left me with so many questions. Where would he have served? Since he was the right age to have been on active duty during the rebellion of 1848, did he take up arms against friends or family members or was he a rebel himself? What was his uniform like and what weapons were issued to him? Did he get time off to visit his family and the girl he was courting? I began to collect dribs and drabs of information.

In the 19th century, according to an article in Wikipedia, the Prussian infantry generally wore the dark "Prussian blue" of the previous two centuries. The blue color and other features of the historic Prussian Army uniform were generally adopted by the other German States as they fell under Prussian influence before and after the Franco-Prussian War of 1870.

Picture of 19th century Prussian Uniform


According to Ernst Mettlach (who has researched the Prussian military), from 1814 on (1815 for Trier) every male between 17 and 45 had to serve three full years in the Prussian Army which was known for its harsh drill and discipline. After his time as active soldier, the young man was not free of army duty. He had to join the reserve for 4 or 5 years (depending on whether he served in the army, navy, cavalry or artillery). When reserve duty was finished, a man became a member of the Landwehr or "landwehrpflichtig" for 5 years (2 years for navy, cavalry and artillery). The Landwehr was similar to the National Guard in the U.S. today, and could be called upon to defend the country in time of war. The final service was in the "Landsturm" until a man's 45th birthday. Ernst did not explain this term, and I can't find it in the dictionary; but I assume it would be a very inactive type of duty, only necessary when the enemy was on the road to the Kreis and every soldier, even the oldest, was needed.

An article in the New York Times in 1888 described military training in the Prussian army in this way: "Under ordinary circumstances the German lad steps into the ranks at the age of 20. For three years he serves with the colors, the next four years he is in the reserve, and the following five years he belongs to the Landwehr, another reserve more remote than the first. Of these twelve years the first three are occupied entirely in severe military work. The most stupid peasant, under a system so thorough as Germany's, must be stupid beyond recovery if he does not turn out an alert, obedient and well-trained soldier...His only law is the law of the court martial; his only duty is to obey without question, and the interpreter of his duty is the captain of his company."

Looking beyond generalities
In the 1860s, The Prussian Government began a reorganization of the military. The plan met with resistance from the liberal, middle class Provincial Diet. Friedrich Engels had agreed to write an article on the Prussian military reform for Der Social-Demokrat, but the newspaper's fear of offending the Bismarck Government made him give up his intention. After consulting Karl Marx, he decided to have his work published as a separate pamphlet, which he began writing it late in January 1865, aiming to support the Provincial Diet's objections to the military reorganization plan. However, by 1866 the Provincial Diet was dissolved and the military reorganization plan the Diet had opposed went ahead.

Why am I telling you about this mostly unknown work by one of the founders of the Communist party. Because it would eventually help me to understand that not every able-bodied young man served in the Prussian army. Johann Meier and many of his contemporaries were exempt. In his emigration application file, begun on February 20, 1861, there was a notation of a request from the Royal Government Department of the Interior at Trier asking for further information why "said Meier, 35 years old is of no military obligation". There would be no emigration permission unless the question was answered in eight days.

A letter was sent to the Royal Government Department of the Interior at Trier from Herr Merhman, Royal County Commissioner, Kreis Saarburg of 1 March 1861 confirming that in 1847, when Johann Meier was 21, he was designated "Battery A" (probably the equivalent of the U.S. Army's 4F classification) because of Mindermaaβ and that he had no military obligation. The archivist at the Regional Archive in Koblenz told me that Mindermaß was an archaic word no longer used in the German language. It meant my ancestor was "too little" to serve in the Prussian army.

"Too little to serve in the army?" The archivist who was helping me assured me that Johann Meier was probably not unusually small. He said that the Prussian army was known to look for soldiers who intimidated with their height. Or perhaps he was just too short to fit into the military-issued uniforms - or to handle a saber.

That's when I began to try to interpret the meaning of "mindermaß." Herr Engel's pamphlet provided the answer I was looking for and changed my perspective on Prussian military conscription. Here is one of the arguments Engels made against the Government's plan for reforming the military.

"...now according to the Zeitschrift des preussischen statistischen Bureaus (March 1864) the number of young men registering in 1861 was 227,005... In the 1863, Minister for War, von Roon, presented the following analysis of the 1861 levy to the Military Commission of the (Provincial) Assembly:

Total population (1858 census) 17,758,823
Twenty-year-olds liable for military service class of 1861 217,438
Of these:
1. Untraced 55,770
2. Moved to other districts and required to register for service there 82,216
3. Failed to register without being excused 10,960
4. Enlisted as 3-year volunteers 5,025
5. Entitled to serve as l-year volunteers 14,811
6. Theologians, deferred or exempted 1,638
7. Liable for naval service 299
8. Struck off as morally unfit 596
9. Rejected by the Regional Commission as manifestedly unfit 2,489
10. Rejected by the Regional Commission as permanently unfit 15,238
11. Transferred to the Supplementary Reserve
a) Below 5 foot after three musters 8,998
b) Below 5 foot 1/4 inches after three musters 9,553..."

Engels continued his analysis: "18,551 men were rejected for not being of sufficient stature. Note: not rejected for service altogether but "passed to the reserve". Therefore, in the event of war they should serve after all. They are only excused parade-service in peace-time, being insufficiently imposing for that. It is thus admitted that these short men are quite good enough for service, and it is intended to use them even in emergencies. The fact that these short men can be quite good soldiers is demonstrated by the French army, which includes men down to 4 feet 8 inches. We therefore have no hesitation in counting them in with the military resources of the country. The above figure merely includes those who were finally rejected after three musters as being too short; it is thus a number that recurs each year. We will discount half of them as unfit for other reasons and we are then left with 9,275 little fellows whom a capable officer would no doubt soon knock into splendid soldiers..."

"However the whole way in which recruits are medically examined in Prussia has taken a peculiar turn. There were always more recruits than could be enlisted, and yet no one wanted to abandon the appearance of universal conscription. What could have been more convenient than to select the desired number of the best men and to declare the rest unfit on some pretext or other?"

Did your male ancestors serve in the Prussian military? If they came from the Rhineland, which seems to produce men, who like the French soldiers, were capable little fellows, they probably were able to stay home, court their sweethearts, earn money to buy their farmland, practice their trade, or quite legally immigrate to America.


Sources:
Division of the Interior, Royal Government at Trier; Vol. 12 p. 1-746; Class V, Section 1, Littera C; Koblenz Division 442 Nr. 181
Wikipedia
Engels, Friedrich, The Prussian Military Question and the German Workers' Party, http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1865/02/12.htm

Spring in the Saar Villages

Springtime in the Irsch of today.
Photo from www.irsch-saar.de

The first crocuses in my garden are showing, part of the reason my thoughts turned to the spring season as our ancestors knew it. When you are finishing your taxes, the allure of a spring day out in the open fields has an almost irresistable charm. Was it the same for the Meiers, the Rauls and the Hausers in their villages? What was spring like for them - a season to be longed for or one filled with work harder than most of us can imagine? Both those things, I believe.




Bird's eye view of the spring fields near Irsch. Photo from http://www.irsch-saar.de/

After the snow melted and the weather softened, it was time for planting. In the book, Hennerm Plou, the famous poet of the region, Ernst Thrasolt asks "do you hear the sap in the earth and the trees?' The farmer knew, from the smell of the air and wisdom of his father before him, that the plow should be made ready for the land.

According to the historians at the Roscheider Hof open air museum, the spring planting in the 19th century Saar and Mosel regions was, for the most part, still carried on the same way it had been for centuries.

Manure was spread on the fields before the plowing began. Then the soil was turned over with the plough. Most of the plows, called "Hackpfluge" were still made entirely of wood, fashioned by a cartwright. The farmer guided the plow pulled by a horse, an ox, or sometimes a cow, depending on the status of the farmer. Only the well-to-do farmers had a horse. The small-holdings farmers, the Kleinbauer, might have an ox or use cows both for field work and for milk.


Wooden plow in the collection of the Deutschen Historischen Museums, Berlin


Plowing with the Hackpflug left clods of earth which needed chopping and pulverizing by a harrow, a cultivating implement set with spikes. But on many farms, wife and children performed this labor instead - as well as removing stones turned up by the plow.

Once the land had been tilled, the seed could be sewn. This was done by means of a sewing cloth, which the planter carried on his front, rather like a half-apron. By pulling together the bottom edge of the sewing cloth with one hand and gripping it tightly, the farmer formed a cradle for the seeds. With his free hand, he would broadcast the seeds with a rhythmic motion as he walked the field. Common crops planted included oats, barley, wheat, potatoes, rye, clover and flax. Most farmers who lived near enough to the Saar to take advantage of the river climate also had a few vines for growing grapes.

Some seeds were planted using the horns of a cow or an ox. The tip of the horn was cut off so that the seeds could slowly come through. Different sizes of horns and how much of the tip of the horn was removed allowed for the planting of various sizes of seeds: beets, lettuce, and many other of the garden seeds could be dropped precisely using this method.

After the planting, the field was rolled flat with a heavy oak roller. This served two purposes. It pressed the seeds into the soil, and it would also flatten any remaining clumps of earth. This facilitated the swing of the scythe and made it easier and faster to cut the crops at harvest time



Spring along the Saar from direction of Beurig.

Although the plowing and planting was hard labor, it was not without its pleasures. The poet Ernst Thrasolt, who grew up in Beurig, just across the Saar River from the city of Saarburg, captures the joy of the farmer as the spring season arrives in a poem simply called "Spring."

The land is free!
Now we bring the plow from the shed.
Now it will go back and forth again and again.
Who would let his head hang?
See how clear is the sky!
An hour away the sound of the rushing Saar,
And the clods are so brown...

...behold the sun and the chaffinches and
the starlings and the larks and
the wagtails and the blackbirds and
the thrushes and all the rest.
Children, fetch the plow!

Around the village and in the meadows, the trees in bud would soon bloom. Ernst Mettlach who comes from a village about 10 kilometers from Trier says that in former times most farm fields had Streuobstwiese, literally "stray fruit meadows." In the pastures all over the region stood apple trees and other fruit trees as well. The "stray" trees had very high, knotty tree trunks. A traditional apple tree, says Ernst, looked like a very old man. (The modern orchard trees of today have very short trunks so it is easier to harvest them, but since no light reaches the ground, useful vegetation cannot grow beneath them). The Streuobstwiesen orchards gave space to a lot of animals and plants. These old orchards could be compared to a house where the ground floor was used by the cattle as pasture while the second floor produced fruit and gave space to birds like little owls.

Pear and plum trees blossomed too. One of the most important types of plum trees in the region is the Zwetschge. It is a tree that looks very similiar to the apple tree and very often grew in the Streuobstwiese orchard. When the trees were filled with blossoms in the later part of spring, apple, plum, and pear all together in some orchards, it looked like snow had fallen, for the ground was covered with white petals.

Edeltrud Heiser of Trier who grew up in Irsch remembers the apple orchard there and the spring wildflowers, including the the Maiglöckchen or May bells which we know as lilies of the valley.
Thus amid the hard work of spring, there was also beauty which was there for those who plowed and hoed and planted the land. It was the time of rain storms, rain showers and sun, of the brown, newly tilled soil brimming fresh green shoots and potential. Best of all, there was the long-term hope for the joy of a plentiful fall harvest.




Irsch on a spring evening. www.irsch-saar.de