This is the second of a multi-part series on ancestors in the Rhöne based on a translation of Rhönspiegel: Three Lectures on the Life, Customs, and Language of the Rhön People written by Leopold Höhl in 1881.

Here is the translation of an excerpt describing the religion of people in the Rhöne, as viewed in the 19th century.

Spirit and temperament frequently intertwine in our language because they often coexist. It is a well-known fact that temperament plays a subordinate role among flatlanders, meaning it is often pushed aside by practicality (to put it mildly); similarly, among mountaineers, despite their rough exterior, temperament is more cultivated.

This is also true for the Rhön dwellers. We have already seen this in the various festivities and associated customs, which can only thrive where temperament prevails.

In characterizing them, we cannot overlook the religious aspect, although it is highly difficult to form a correct judgment in this regard. For what is here semblance, what is truth, what is habit, and what is voluntary practice? Nonetheless, some points related to religious life should be discussed.

This includes above all that the relationship between shepherd and flock, pastor and congregation, should be correct, so that trust is established and reciprocated. This relationship is much better understood by the Rhön dweller than by the wealthy farmer of the plains. Only from the latter can one hear the expression: “We would have no poor people in the village if it weren’t for our pastor and teacher.” The Rhön dweller also does not begrudge his pastor that he takes a stroll while he himself sweats in the field, but says, “They deserve their rest too.” At most, some poor peasant, because he regards the pastor as the best-off man, may be somewhat slack in delivering the customary oats and straw, reasoning that “he doesn’t need it as urgently as I do.” He is also unable to give the pastor any gifts but insists on paying him fairly for any services rendered. And if he happens to haul parish wood with other comrades, he makes full use of the time-honored custom that the pastor treat them well, does not hold back and eats and drinks “until it’s gone”. “Enjoy it,” everyone says, including the host.

However, when it comes to doing something for the adornment of the church and similar purposes, there are always benefactors who donate generously, and even the poorest do not hold back with their contribution. And if they have no money, they give in kind; for example, a considerable quantity of grain is collected on Good Friday, adorned with eggs and flax combs as offerings, and no churchgoer is offended by this sight. This offering is then converted into money by auctioning it at the churchwarden’s house – another interesting transaction, attended only by women as buyers. And how diligently the Rhön dwellers give the customary gifts to the visiting monks from Kreuzberg, Fulda, Königshofen, and Münnerstadt: meat in winter, eggs or butter in spring, wool in summer, and finally grain in autumn.

Another aspect of religious life is participation in public worship services, about which no general judgment can be made, as there are communities that distinguish themselves praiseworthily in this regard, while in others, the ringing of church bells may be easily drowned out by the clatter of the loom or the feeding of the livestock. This applies mainly to weekdays, because on Sundays and “high holy days” or “special days,” the Rhön dweller participates fully from beginning to end, attending the service, sermon, and devotions, especially if he can sing along well. It has been mentioned that he gladly participates in communal church festivals and pilgrimages. While one might hear a sluggish churchgoer say in the local dialect, “de Kerch eß kain Fruesch on hept net foet” (the church is no use and does not feed), I once heard almost the opposite from a parishioner. He was about to drive his team to the field when he saw me coming; he turned back and calmly remarked, “The work won’t run away, but the Lord’s chaplain might.”

Another observation I have at least made, which pertains to this, is that one hears the dreadful cursing much less frequently in the Rhön than elsewhere. This is due to the tranquility and composure of the Rhön dweller, who has many original expressions for astonishment, admiration, and anger, which divert the impending storm just as effectively as a curse word. In amazement, he might say, “I du Wätter! Tömmerei!” In anger, he might exclaim, “Dunnerstig no mahl!” or “Schwerenangst hengenei!” and “tausendsapperlot!” His curses are also fairly harmless: “Krieg die Krummenhoth!” And instead of the common “Luider,” some use the milder “du Schwerenöther!”

What remains to be mentioned here is superstition. It is widely acknowledged that superstition is not a necessary companion of religion, as it is found even where there is little or no religiosity. I have mentioned superstitious customs among cattle and people; the easiest explanation for this lies in the common principle applied by believers and non-believers, educated and uneducated alike: “Use whatever can help” or “try everything.” Moreover, where there is deceit involved (ground mirrors, quackery, hocus-pocus in cures), the number of deceived individuals will vary depending on the sophistication of these deceivers. In both respects, it is like elsewhere in the Rhön and there is nothing distinctive or peculiar to report about it.

Questions?

If you’re interested in learning more about your German ancestors, please contact me! I’m happy to help.