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Large wet snow flakes descended from
invisible clouds in the gloomy gray night. October was supposed
to be harvest time, yet it was snowing. Yesterday it rained. The
day before yesterday was filled with rain and snow. Before these
past few days, nothing better or less, just more of the same.
Johannes Wilhelm Herrmann lowered his head
as he sloshed onward up the narrow muddy road leading to his
home. The gooey swill of ice and mud clung to his leather shoes
and leg wraps like candle tallow. He no longer loved this
motherland. It was no good. All of the fertile top soil had
washed away to the basins that drain to the Rhine, Main and
Fulda Rivers. There was so much mud his pigs no longer liked it.
Perhaps Catherine, his wife, would understand there is more to
life than mud and misery. An option for betterment or death had
been decided earlier this same night; either one of the two
would be an improvement over this devastation which was taking
away his farm land. He would find out Catherine’s reaction to
his choice momentarily since the faint firelight flickering from
the front window of his home lay straight ahead.
Johannes Wilhelm Herrmann was not normally a risk taker. Every
decision he made was calculated carefully, even to the very last
insignificant detail. During the twenty-nine years since he
arrived on this earth in the year 1736, he not only endured
through hardships and setbacks, but celebrated success as well.
This was the existence of a Deutscher Landwirt, and he
acknowledged and accepted the certainty of his life and
environment. Physically Herrmann was of average height, about 5’
9” tall with a muscular build, and he appeared similar to most
any other Hessian male. Working his fields of grain, potatoes,
turnips and cabbage; keeping farm animals fed; cutting timber
and tending his grape vines, amounted to more than hard work, it
gave him gratification. Activity in the German Reformed
Church--Deutsch Hat Kirche Reformiert--supplied his weekly
entertainment. The one day of worship each week provided a time
for learning and strengthening his faith while socializing with
his large family and circle of friends. He treasured his farm,
wife Catherine and his two young sons, WilhelmJr. and George.
His land was the motherland, the giver of life and hope, or had
been until this year. Now she was a thief without remorse,
taking all that he had worked to accomplish for self and family;
all taken away in a year of incessant floods from excessive rain
and snow. The land would never be productive again.
Patiently waiting for her husband to remove his thick lamb’s
wool cloak as he entered the stone and wooden house, Maria
Catherine Motz Herrmann gently took hold of his hand and led him
toward the warmth near the rock fireplace.
“Johannes,come by the fire. You must be
frozen,” she softly said.
“Catherine, I...Catherine, I told them
tonight...,” pausing as he spoke. With a stern look projecting
from his brow, along with a tone in his voice that had grown
more serious the past six months, Johannes Wilhelm Herrmann
continued deliberately. “There is no turning back. You,
WilhelmJr., George and I will go to America in the spring next
year.”
“Perhaps we need to discuss this more,”
she answered forcefully. “The children, Johannes, possibly we
should consider they are too young for such a long journey. I
would prefer to wait until they are older.”
“They are strong children, Catherine.
They, like you and I, are Hessians. Besides, many of our people
before us, even before we were born almost thirty years ago,
have made the long trip. Now it is our time, Catherine, we will
leave in the spring; America will be under our feet before the
next winter.” Removing his remaining thick wet garments, he
turned and looked deeply into her concerned dark blue eyes.
“Your brother and his wife are coming with us, as well as my two
cousins. You will have plenty of help with our two boys and have
companionship on the long trip as well.”
“We will eat now, Johannes, save the
talk,” Catherine replied. Neglecting to make further eye contact
with him, she dipped heaping servings of thick turnip soup onto
two large pewter plates using a large wooden ladle. Returning
the iron pot which swung freely on a metal bar over the dancing
flames in the open hearth rock fireplace, she sat down across
from her husband at the heavy, hand hewn wooden table.
Maria Catherine Motz Herrmann resembled a
typical Hessian female. Strong willed in personality matched her
physical stature to a tee. Two years older than her husband, the
past five years, at her current age of thirty-one, had been more
rewarding than she could have ever envisioned. Johannes, who was
called Wilhelm by everyone except her, was a perfect mate and
father. He provided not only an abundance of food and income for
his family, but for friends and relatives as well. She
contributed extra income from weaving which her family line,
Motz, was known for. Everyone knew, including Catherine, their
family way of life during these first five years of marriage had
been above average.
Following the ever present custom of
praise to God before each mealtime, the steaming hot turnip soup
and cold bread were slowly consumed. Eating hot foodstuff at the
nightly mealtime was unusual. More often than not, following the
tradition most Hessian families observe, Catherine usually
prepared a hot meal at mid-day, with cold bread and cheese for
the evening meal. Due to the bitterly cold snowy evening, she
anticipated her husband would be chilled and hungry from the
lengthy walk back from his meeting at the church more than a
kilometer away, and would need hot food to shed the chill.
Stealing a glance from across the heavy wooden table, she
noticed that Johannes was staring intensely at the cracking,
popping flames in the stone fireplace.
“Tell me about the gathering, Johannes,”
Catherine requested while removing the pewter plates and left
over bread.
Johannes leaned back in his creaking
wooden table chair while pulling on his suspenders with both
hands as he began to slowly and methodically describe the events
of the day.
“Fifteenpeople attended the meeting. All
of them you know. It was settled that everyone would go to
America, except your father and mother. They are just too old to
make the trip safely.”
“Why must we go, Johannes?” Catherine
challenged. “We have a large farm. And our animals, we have our
animals to care for. This large house is more than a building
where we gather to eat and sleep, it is our home. Why do we have
to go?”
It was unusual for Catherine to disagree
or challenge her husband. Most always they agreed on decisions
of importance, or had until now. Replying with more than a hint
of sadness in his voice, Johannes Wilhelm Herrmann returned his
chair to all four legs resting on the floor and leaned forward
with his elbows on the table, hands gesturing and looked
directly into her watering blue eyes.
“It is not only the land which is no good
anymore. It is a great deal more. Frederick II is now in charge
of our Deutschland and change will be coming quickly. He is of
Catholic conviction and frowns upon our beliefs in the Reformed
Church. It’s just a matter of time until we will have to pay to
take delivery of salvation like the Catholics believe. Already
he is making it compulsory for service in the military. Even at
my current age of twenty-nine, I may have to go again. Our
soldiers are being sold to other countries to battle as
mercenaries in distant lands. I would fight and die for the
motherland, but not as a slave. Furthermore,” he continued with
a sincerity that penetrated the depths of Catherine’s heart, “we
will starve should we stay with this washed outland.”
In a sincere heartfelt voice she brushed
away tears from her round blue eyes and asked Johannes, “Why so
far away? Is there not some good land closer by? We could
move to Austria. I have relatives there.”
“I’m sorry Catherine, but it is not
possible. Even the valley beyond the Rhine into Austria is
washed out. There is nothing left here but hardship and sorrow.
We have been told for years of the abundance of America, and
they beg for us to come there. We will go, Catherine. We will
start a new generation in a new land.”
Johannes felt the need to give Catherine
more information since he noticed her demeanor pleaded
compassionately for more, but it would not change his decision.
“Our motherland during these past one
hundred years has been akin to one of your patchwork quilts,”
Johannes began. “All the territories within our much larger
nation are connected, yet separate. In the north direction,
stretching from east to west is the great region of the King of
Prussia. The Austrian hereditary dominions occupy the south
eastern corner of this motherland. The Platanines, on both sides
of the Rhine below our beloved Hesse, inhabit the southwest.
Further northwest are many more. All of these numerous
territories are full of confusion since each contain
electorates, duchies, bishoprics, dominions of margraves,
landgraves, princes and free cities--all jumbled together.
Travel anywhere, even within our own landgrave is impossible due
to tariffs and fees. At the gathering tonight we counted over
three hundred sovereignties in the entire motherland. Our own
Hesse is the only territory where the Landstande has any
semblance of order and influence.”
Pausing slightly to gather his thoughts so
his explanation would be thorough, Catherine took advantage of
the brief silence to speak.
“It is all so confusing,” she said. “It is
difficult to understand why our people cannot learn to live
together in harmony, especially since we are all the same
people.”
Johannes did not respond, instead he
continued as if Catherine had said nothing.
“As I pointed out earlier, Frederick II,
our Landgrave ruler of Hesse-Kassel, is an idiot. He is a
Catholic Prince ruling a protestant country. His first wife was
an English Princess, a daughter of King George II, the
Englishman. I’m sure you remember the tale about him; he married
Frederick II’s cousin, Charlotte. Anyway, Frederick II’s wife
left him from this Landgrave, our Hesse-Kassel, when he
converted to Catholicism a few years back. She took their only
son and moved to Hanau, located in the Palatnine, near the
nation state of France. She left because he was leading a merry
life in his Kassel Palace. He ignored her and openly took on a
French cast off mistress of the Ducde Bouillon. Frederick has
become ‘French’ everything. Rumors state he now has over one
hundred children, mostly from the women brought in from the
France Nation from across the Rhine. He has built a French
theatre and opera house. French adventurers with good letters
receive a welcome and are appointed responsible positions more
than our own Hesse citizens. Now the courts are set up like the
French and even use the language of those people. Once again he
is requiring mandatory military service to build a mercenary
militia to be sold to other countries—just to increase his
personal wealth.”
Johannes drew a deep breath before
concluding what he wanted Catherine to hear. “All of this
combined with the weather devastating our land, leaves us little
or no choice. Catherine, I must have your support as we pull up
and leave our homeland; otherwise I will succumb to nothing by
either staying here or leaving for America without your
support.”
Catherine walked around the wooden table
with her open hands and outstretched arms, wrapping them around
his stout muscular body, squeezing tightly.
“We will go to America, Johannes, and we
will all go together to build a new wonderful life. We will go
to America--Wirwerden nach Amerika fahren.” |