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 longbehind; 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 coloredfigures, 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 singingor 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 samepreacher 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 nearlyinaudible. 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 ofliebespredigerhas greatly declined, so that some congregations had no preacher. (The wordliebespredigerI 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 GotteskindGewaschen ganz rein von der Sund,Wird geistlich gespeisst und trancket,Mit Christi Blut, sein Willen thutIrdisch verschmacht aus ganzen Muth,Der Vater sich ihm schenket.”
“Der Schopfer auch der Vater heisst,Durch Christum, seinen Sohne;Da wirket mit der Heilig Geist,Einiger Gott drey Namen,Von welchem kommt ein GotteskindGewaschen ganz rein von der Sund,Wird geistlich gespeisst und trancket,Mit Christi Blut, sein Willen thutIrdisch verschmacht aus ganzen Muth,Der Vater sich ihm schenket.”
“Der Schopfer auch der Vater heisst,Durch Christum, seinen Sohne;Da wirket mit der Heilig Geist,Einiger Gott drey Namen,Von welchem kommt ein GotteskindGewaschen ganz rein von der Sund,Wird geistlich gespeisst und trancket,Mit Christi Blut, sein Willen thutIrdisch verschmacht aus ganzen Muth,Der Vater sich ihm schenket.”
“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 thetablewas formed of benches placedtogether, 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 attractedby 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.