Translated by Alice Wupperman Lundy
Edited by Robert Lundy
Published 1994 and Friend Press, Orange, California

This Book is in the Public Domain. It was translated by Alice Lundy from the German Das Haus zur Schüren, Erinnerungen von Pfarrer Ernst Wuppermann, published in 1938 by the Familienverband der Familie Wuppermann e.V. Stamm Schüren Leverkusen-Schlebusch Germany, which carried no copyright marking. 

THE HOUSE AT SCHÜREN
Reminiscences of Pastor Ernst Wuppermann

Published by the Family Association of the Wuppermann Family Schüren Branch Leverkusen-Schlebusch, in December 1938

Foreword 

The House at Schüren was a family home base in the best sense. None of the many descendents who originated from this home have described so effectively the treasure of the experiences of his childhood as Ernst Wuppermann, Chaplain at the prison at Trier and Pastor in Kochem. In numerous essays he has written down his recollections of the places and personalities from his youth.

Of the two essays from his pen which we are copying here, the original of the first is a fair copy by an assistant, corrected in Ernst Wuppermann's own hand, and is in the Family Archive at Schlebusch.

Pastor Wuppermann wrote the second essay in his later years at the request of his niece, Mrs. Clara Tafel, the daughter of Otto Wuppermann, with his own hand. At the wish of Mrs. Clara Tafel the original manuscript is now in the possession of Dr. Herman Wupperman in Pinneberg.

I find the essays so interesting that I decided to publish them for the descendents of Reinhard Theodor Wuppermann and to honor them at Christmas 1938.

(signed) Theodor Wuppermann, Sr. 

The House at Schüren

Sketches by Pastor Ernst Wuppermann Trier, 10. May 1875 

One hundred years ago there lived at Schüren a merchant in his middle years with his wife, surrounded by numerous children. His property, one of the old estates which composed the jurisdiction of Barmen, was ten minutes away from downtown. It was at the entrance to the side valley, through which old Coal Street ascended to Westkotten, and on to old Hatzfeld in the deep pass and over the Einerngraben, to the ridge of the watershed, and several hours farther to the Ruhr. We didn't know the comfortable, easy ascending highways that now run across the Loh and Hatzfeld and Dieker Street; there were hardly even two-wheeled coal carts which would have dared to travel over that neck-breaking pass, especially in winter. One saw every day a row of horses, called coal docks, file by. These, thin and driven looking, had several pitiful sacks of coal on their backs, to be delivered to the bleaching works in the lower Wuppertal. These occupied the upper, wide area of the valley, through which the Wupper wound its crystal-clear waters. At several points in the fastflowing little river, strong weirs had been built. Since then a wide millrun had to drive not only the old community mill at Gemarke and the mill in the Korzert, but also had to water the wide bleaching areas of the whole length of the valley, as was daily required by the natural bleaching of those days. The house at Schüren was surrounded in front by lush green meadows, cut through by long narrow ditches carefully laid out, reaching to the wide mill ditch. This had such a steep fall that it could still drive another half-dozen waterwheels, and in part directed water into the beautiful stone channels and troughs, as could still be seen fifteen years ago at Siebel's Bleachery but also had to drive the many calendering machines which were indispensable to the ribbon making. But just below the bleachery the old gentleman had also established dyeworks, from which daily resounded the clattering of the iron kettles loaded with the costly indigo. Rinsing the dyed yarn and ribbons must have clouded the water. One can scarcely believe that complete peace could have been maintained with the neighboring bleachery owners.

The factory owner had left his old family property on Dieker Street to take over here the inheritance of his wife, who belonged to another line of Wuppermanns. But his unmarried brothers remained on Dieker Street, in the house where his grandfather had been murdered by robbers after the Seven Years War, and in the simple neighboring houses. Loyal relations were maintained between them, and especially Sunday afternoons were shared, with their long clay pipes, while the women strolled in the well-tended vegetable gardens.

Also, his wife's sister was married to Pastor Mller in Wicklinghausen, a man of Biblical faith and sincerely loving disposition, devoted to the peaceful quietness of the Halle pietism. So when in the 1770's the Wuppermann branches in the upper valley, who had remained until then with the Schwelm Lutheran congregation, rather than that of Wicklinghausen, formed their own new church congregation and built a church (completed in 1785), it must have resulted in difficult conflicts, strong personal attacks in letters and legal proceedings between them and the Wicklinghausen residents. Mr. Wuppermann could not decide to relinquish his church connections with the old home, and join the new Valley congregation. This involved him in so many disagreeable matters that his son Reinhard Theodor in the years of the 1820's still kept a number of boxes of letters from those times, which he allowed no one to read, and finally with great care he personally burned them in the '30's. He also, like all the elder siblings, still went to Wicklinhausen with the youngest sister Gretchen to confirmation and children's classes. In the '90's Mller's successor was the very lively Pastor Seyd, youthfully fresh into old age , poetically gifted and happily-singing. This great lover of lively animals*uncle of the owner of the large department store in Elberfeld*was a great favorite of the children.

The relatives by marriage lived in the upper area of Wuppertal. This was the Lutheran family of Beckmann, whose son Friedrich and son-in-law Rittershaus were the oldest boyhood friends of son Theodor Wuppermann. In similar cousinship were the family Elbers in Wupperfeld, whose son-in-law Friedrich Wilhelm Teschenmacher was Theodor's other childhood playmate. In their maturity they were separated by a family quarrel, but in their old age they were reunited in beautiful harmony and intimate friendship. Although all these men had the same businesses in linen thread, ribbons, and twine, the competition does not seem to have harmed their friendship.

It is striking that Reinhard Theodor, the son of the house, except for those named retained close relationships only with Messrs Schuchard and Hellenbeck in the lower villages; but later in the singing society in the Gemarke he met many others. The separation of the Reformed and Lutheran congregations separated the families so harshly that a mixed marriage seldom took place, and it attracted general attention if a father gave his daughter in marriage to a young man of the other confession.

This opposition between the churchly alignment made itself noticeable and was evident in the mutual reproaches made to each other. The Reformed, so it was said, always had a little back door to slip out of embarrassments and responsibilities. The Lutherans, on the other hand, were said to be very hardheaded and stiffly self-willed, so that it was hard to deal with them.*

"Denn die Calvinisten, sagt er, -isten,"Well, the Calvinists, he tells me, -ists Sind die rechten Christen, sagt er, -isten, Are the rightious Christians, says he, -istians Doch der Lutheraner, sagt er, -aner, But the Lutherans, says he, -utherans, Sind die rechten Orthodoxen, sagt er, -oxen." Are the real orthodox, he tells me, -ox."

This became evident in all transactions between the two presbyteries: here the harsh self- righteousness and certainty, there the elegent cleverness and dexterity*yet the same characteristics pervaded their business management. A solid reputation for respectability and the punctual fulfillment of obligations undertaken prevailed among the true Lutheran Wuppermann families as the most inviolable possession, against which every advantage was unhesitatingly given second place. To maintain the reputation of an honorable man, to bequeath it to his firm, that was the old gentleman's greatest pride. Indeed, this reputation prevailed also in the marketplaces of Braunschweig and Frankfurt a.M.; from thence it extended to the coast of the North Sea, and via Hamburg to Spain. Especially lively had become the trade in men's hats and in vrai retard ribbon to France and Italy, attested to by the extended, nine-month-long travels of the young son Theodore (in 1803-1806). On into later years he couldn't praise enough the solidity of the old French houses in large and small towns. Then when the Revolution broke out, the Wuppertal too was flooded with a stream of immigrants. At that time a young French merchant, Monsieur Lebert, appeared at Wuppermann's house, who, conscripted into the army, had soon abandoned the Republican flag with Dumouriez. As son of a business friend in Normandy he was taken in with German hearty hospitality and employed several years at the office. Even in his elder days he could not forget this friendliness that had been extended to him in the Wuppermann home. The tendency toward the respectable and responsible seems also to have determined and limited their circle of acquaintances. The many Wuppermann relatives from Frankfurt, Pastor Elbers, Hilgers and others from the Lenneper area, the able physician Dr. Castringius of Schwelm, the talented, lively young pastor Rauschenbusch in Altena: these were among the numerous and gladly welcomed guests.

Admittedly, travel was still quite difficult, for it could be accomplished only on horseback through the terrible passes, especially in bad weather. Also, the women had to consent to sit behind the riders on the broad rumps of the sturdy horses if they wanted to see again their dear cousins, the women and young single nieces. Naturally, then they would stay as many weeks to visit as days today. The men also traveled by horseback to the fairs at Braunschweig and Leipzig, and on the old Gebirgestrasse through Altenkirchen to Frankfurt a.M.; or they rode along the Ruhr to Herbede to collect old accounts from noblemen who owed them for loans. Therefore, the Barmers especially esteemed their riding horses; still today they proudly carry the title of respect of "Pferdsgemarker" as judges of horses! A share of this love of noble horses has been transmitted to two branches of the grandchildren to this day.

The old grandfather was on horseback on Dieker Street in the year l763 accompanied by his son and grandson returning from a fair, and was preparing himself for a new trip with them, when death overook him at the hand of robbers. On the other hand, such circles, people, and writings of a higher level of free thinking, the poetic and artistic enthusiasm in which other families in the valley participated, did not seem to appeal to those in the Wuppermann house. They seemed to them perhaps too light fantastic and free. A certain disinclination to all poets of all sorts as unpractical natures remained with the son Reinhard Theodor all his life long, and seemed to have been part of his upbringing.

Similarly, exaggeration of emotions in the area of religion did not appeal to them, either. The lively stimulation Dr. Collenbusch elicited, with his friends Hasenkamp and Menken and many other families, rebounded in our house from the sober, reasonable point of view.

Withal, there was no lack of disposition for the beautiful arts. Drawing and singing was practiced by all the young people with great satisfaction, as proven by the old sketch-books of landscape drawings and artistic calligraphy in our possession. But neither drawing nor singing was followed through significant further study. Only the youngest daughter, Aunt Gretchen, possessed a talent for figure drawing, which was beautifully realized in silhouettes and eggshell decoration; but without further training she did not progress beyond this. However, in this new house several rooms with green walls were decorated with scenes from Greek mythology in gray. However, they remained unappreciated and without inspiration to further study of the beauty of poets and artists of antiquity. So far as we know the children of the house, the grandmothers of the families Jung, Cramer and Springmann, one finds no actual pleasure and enthusiasm for the great poetic works of their time. However, Klopstock, Claudius, and Gellert were read and learned with genuine pleasure. One granddaughter, later Mrs. Hlsmann, was led to it by her later vocation as teacher; but even in her case the practical, sober view of life was a preferable inheritance. But the only surviving son, Reinhard Theodor, could not even in later years get rid of his disinclination toward all poets and artists as unpractical people. He tried to inculcate this aversion to all extremes in his children, because it could too easily become hurtful to the healthy, simple family life. An explanation of this quiet, simple disposition can perhaps be found in the sickly features we see in pictures of both grandparents in their younger as well as their older years. Perhaps it is that "delicate stomach" that the son inherited, and which plagued him his whole life long. Of Grandmother we know that as a widow she was often quite melancholy, and her son tried to cheer her by reassuring her of her trust in God

Exactly this morbid state found its quiet satisfaction in the little collection of Bogatzky, in the reflective, warm, devout Christianity of this man, who belonged to the mild but active direction of the school of Halle Pietism. In the little example of this lovely booklet, which son Reinhard Theodor, at age 22, took on his nine-month business trip to France and Italy, and which carries the note "1762, 25th edition" these words are inscribed: "This lovely little book, a precious keepsake from my beloved Mother, may it serve me as a blessing for now and forever! R. Th. Wuppermann." This disposition for earnest, unpretentious piety pervaded the whole house and all its members; and the sons-in-law who joined the family participated faithfully. So this religious disposition, which everywhere sought to permeate and to govern the ordinary, practical daily life, became an inheritance. For this all we grandchildren have to thank the beloved elders in the House at Schüren. The best that they could bequeath to their family, it reminds us of the words called out by the poet to the earnest German students:

Das Haus mag zerfallen, The house may decay, Was hat's denn fur Not? What does it grieve us? Der Geist lebt in uns Allen, The spirit lives in us all, Und unsere Burg ist Gott. And our home is with God.

One beautiful result of this healthy, solid devoutness was the loyal attachment among members of the family; a second, the excellent relationship with the workers. Of these, about twelve were working in the factory building, but also numerous ribbon weavers who lived in the country, and the women who made string and twine enjoyed a loving concern on the part of the factory owner. Son Reinhard Theodor took over this sacred trust as an inheritance, and maintained it loyally throughout his whole life. When in the 30's the ten or twelve factory workers marched in on New Year's morning to congratulate us and were hosted with refreshments and a little glass of French brandy, the old factory foreman Engstermann who had been with the firm 51 years, wiped the tears out of his eyes when he could speak to his master and his children about the olden days, and tell stories about the old gentleman. Then old Beckhaus, who had been in the house 38 years, sat beside him, and old Homberg, who had been in the house equally long. These people accompany the old generations who had gone in and out. Under their eyes, in daily relations with them, the new ones grew up, and found in them sympathetic participation in their joys and sorrows. In the 1790's began the marriages out of the house at Schüren. The young birds flew out to build their own nests. It is noteworthy that all four daughters were claimed by young persons from outside. At least three of them were not natives of Wuppertal, but settled there. Two of the sons-in-law joined the business*evidence of how profitable at that time men's hats and suspenders, linen thread, and linen tape must have been, to support three families. That was the firm which once received a business letter from Italy bearing the address: H.H.Wupmatz, Springmatz and Cramassen.

One of them brought with him an enthusiasm for Kant's philosophy, and sought to make the motto: "Man can be whatever he wishes," apply even in the accounting office, but this brother-in-law was still expected to learn accounting solely out of a textbook and without a teacher; nevertheles, he retained with warm affection the custom of singing hymns with his wife and child and accompanying them on the piano. The other son-in-law, Mr. Friedrich August Jung in Elberfeld, could gratefully boast how he arrived in Elberfeld with all his possessions tied up in a bandana. He enthusiastically threw himself into the new cotton business, and was soon able to own a stately house in Elberfeld on the Vikarie. He remained in close business association with the firm in Schüren, as supplier of thread. This all harmonized completely with the beliefs and concerns that prevailed at Schüren in business and family. Out of the unity of sentiment and conviction arose the sincere, loyal constancy which survived among the four families for practically two generations. It survived all storms which the vicissitudes of life in business and family unavoidably brought with them. So far we have tried to take a look into the life and activities of the family in Schüren; now let us turn to the dwelling and the garden which still stand today, even though in ruins, as sign of that time and evidence of the character of its builders.

The factory owner indulged in a noble pleasure and favorite pursuit which he especially enjoyed: that was establishing a magnificent garden. What he had seen on his travels he could carry out in the loveliest fashion on his estate: a terraced garden with all its advantages. The hill behind the house offered an especially good opportunity.

Down at the foot of the hill he first built for himself a larger house in place of the old, smaller one. The old one appeared on the plan of the town Gemarke of 1761 next to that of Mr. P. Junghaus, with five windows in the front and two stories, and in front of it the bleaching shed. The new one was built on a massive stone foundation and a cellar towering eight feet above ground, so that they would no longer be forced out by the wild waters of the Westkott Valley rainstorms. The double width, with eleven windows, afforded ample space for two families. The rooms, deep and practically all wide, almost uncomfortably high ceilinged, offered space for comfortable house furnishings, but which remained consistently simple. Above two stories of wooden construction rose a pleasingly sloped mansard. A more gently sloped roof crowned the building, whose whole aspect made a pleasant impression. It was completely covered by slate from top to bottom, which was required by the climate. Though it is not to our taste these days, it did make for a completely dry house in winter, and in summer was a pleasantly cool one, especially in back, on the shady side; the east wing was peacefully shaded by a mighty linden. Large Dutch-style windows made these rooms extremely light and cheerful and at the same time offered a view of the green expanse of the bleacheries with their gleaming linens and white fences. Beyond these the eye swept with pleasure away toward the south toward the wooded height of the Barmer Woods, under the edge of which friendly farms were spread along the Heidt. These were surrounded by wide cattle pastures which extended into the valley, where they were finally hidden by the houses of the community. Toward the east rose the friendly church steeple of Wupperfeld, with its strange but not unbeautiful form above the fruit trees of Engstermann's garden.

So the aspect of the house was unususally pleasant and friendly. Toward Wupperfeld one's gaze followed the street which climbed the Schellenberg; toward the more modest homes, to the house where Aunt Springmann lived for many years with her children. This intersection of four streets never had the lively vehicle traffic of the main street, but the quiet Mhlenweg was for that very reason preferred by pedestrians and many files of coal horses or coal carts out of Westkotter Street passed by the house. It was separated from the broad bleacheries only by a lattice fence surrounding a farm. The paved street ran in front of the house, on the west bounded by the three-story factory building, overlooked by the bright windows of the office, which made it possible to manage the flock of children in the yard with eyes and voice. The two entrances of the estate were closed by great iron gates, whose artistically forged shapes attracted admiration. Even more artistically contrived was the iron banister of the wide flight of stone steps which led up each side of the house. There in the corner beside it one could really enjoy the shade of the linden tree; here there was a flagstone area with a green bench which was sheltered by the arbor of an espaliered pear tree. Here our breakfast was brought in the summer, to the delight of the children, though perhaps not always very beneficial to health, given the dampness of the morning air at the base of the valley. Into this balustrade, next to the date 1782 there was set a coat-of-arms, which occasioned many wondering questions by the children and grandchildren. Two mermaids leaned from opposite sides against an anchor, and a rose branch occupied the space below. Surely it was originated only by a pretty meaning of the family name; but the children, who had never seen a noble family in Wuppertal, made up all kinds of fancies, as if the crest could have an old meaning and justification.

Very different but no less friendly was the view from the rooms of the second floor to the back, because there one could look directly across the street into the rich green of the vegetable garden lying on the same level, with its many fruit trees, which were towered over by the 60-foot high stone wall. Behind it the high forest of Wollspringer Mountain beckoned over the wide coachhouse and the houses of Westkotter Street, which offered the children a walk to the beloved farmhouse on the Mallacker. But to the right the view carried up the height of the garden, from one high terrace wall to the next. Lush shrubs of Spanish lilac enclosed the lower garden; green hedges of Johannis- grapes the second; espaliers of roses, pears, and cherries the upper terraces, towered over by the crowns of most promising sour cherry trees, which promised the youngsters so much fun in picking. Still higher glinted the glass walls of the hothouses, covered by the splendid crowns of a long row of orange trees. These could be brought outdoors only several weeks after the danger of the nights of St. Pancras frost. But especially beautiful on the free, airy height appeared the stately summerhouse, whose roof spread out on both sides, but at the top converged to a little square lantern-house. Atop this soared a whimsical mermaid, the weathervane, the daily target of the questioning looks of the children, for too often its head pointed toward the direction of rain, and threatened the longed-for walk, or it imposed the dreaded encumbrance of having to carry umbrellas for the group.

But from the height behind the summerhouse rose a long dense row of poplar trees, the landmark and at the same time a windbreak for the orchard situated there. That was the old garden, Wuppermann's garden, the pride of the old gentleman, the delight of the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, the gathering place of family members, the playground for the children, the site of friendly memories which each one took away with him, which carried for him the images of happy hours which he had spent there in the circle of loved ones, of grief and secret pains from which he sought a retreat there. By dark steps from the street one reached the vegetable garden, where the string trellises and palm bordered paths were just wide enough to allow two people to stroll side by side. For the young people there were bushes and trees full of fruit, and at the back at the rocky cliff a place to build a Robinson Crusoe hut and a fort, and to light the favorite campfire. A trellis gate in front led into the attractive little garden which our dear mother had laid out in the English style, as it was then called. There was an attractive little grassplot, with beds of roses and potted plants closely enclosed and secretively protected against all unwanted glances by tall blooming shrubs; in a front corner was an arbor under a weeping willow, in the back a cool dark little place under two lindens, the wide paths curved in a figure-eight shape in the English style. And in the lighter center opened the round basin with its rock border wide and attractive, in the middle a seahorse out of whose throat sprang a stream of clear water to a height of about 20 feet. How delighted they were at the liquid column, which spread itself so charmingly at the top and dispersed in the sunlight, the magnificent rainbow colors shimmering.

Yes, that was the little garden where we had tea on Sunday afternoons, where we took our dear callers, where the older members of the family could withdraw from the house full of noisy children when they had important family matters to discuss. This little garden was for two generations inextricably tied to the essence of the home at Schüren. "Now let's go to the top!" said the ones who liked to go exploring, and on steep stone steps they laboriously climbed high up. There in long rows stretched the hothouses with their stone walls, a dangerous attempt at jumping by the wild boys. There the elegant strawberry beds lured them to gleaning; after for long weeks they had caused the "Mamselles" of the house much work to pick their ample yield for dessert, which the wide circle of youngsters at table eagerly awaited. There Father examined the high sunny espaliered apricots and grapes, to see if some were ripe enough to send to some sick relative. There the children spied out the delicate heads of asparagus, to point them out triumphantly to Father's careful knife. There Father cut a bouquet of the magnificent Centifolien roses, or in the fall surrounded the asters with the delicate green of asparagus. And in good years the grapes could be praised with pride. In their sunny, protected site they became sweeter than any grapes that the market brought from the famous Rhein. Then narrow steps led up on both sides to the hothouses to gaze at the wonderful golden fruits from the South. There was a narrow path, with a stone bench in a niche and a veranda with wild grapes. Here was the first of the magnificent viewpoints, which were so numerous in the upper garden. This became the favorite spot of young Mrs. [Anna Sophie] Wuppermann, who was transplanted from Rhenish flatlands into this hill country.

Here the view swept downwards over all the splendors of the gardens to the attractive bleacheries, which in that time still extended all the way to the Lttringshaus wall and on to the outskirts, and on beyond the friendly green crown of the hills from Fischertal up to the top of Heckinghause. Below spread various houses of the area; only that of Mr. P. Brett, the present City Hall, stood out; and right behind it the few farm houses on the Cleff. Who would have thought in those days that the pass that led through the cattle pastures from our district to Heckinghausen would become that splendid street! But in the 40's, where did one see a single one of those high smokestacks that the observer can scarcely imagine the Barmer Valley without? From the quiet little spot in front we go up one stairway farther to the summerhouse, an ample space with heavy stone walls, brightened by six windows, but from above the square, windowed cupola, the desired spot for the red-tails to build their nests. But the room was rather too much exposed to the sun. In summer one took shelter there only when a surprise rain occurred; it was never used as a place to sit. But the boys and girls tumbled about there all the more happily at their games. No other terrace in the garden offered so many hiding-places for "one-two-three-four Finkelstein" as this third one. Yes, in the dark storage areas of the hot- houses one would even put up with the company of the martens. Yes, the three wild boys couldn't resist the temptation to use the summer-house as a serious garrison with a dozen companions and under older brother Otto's stern leadership. Scaling ladders were set up, and attempts made to raise the windows; but for hours the valiant defense party repulsed all assaults, until finally they succeeded in breaking into one window, and with hurrahs the fort was captured. To be sure the next morning when the boys had to ask their father, humbly and sadly, to have a dozen broken panes repaired out of their savings banks, they still trembled at what was to come. But lo, the expected punishment did not come, for what all the dear, mild father bore for such beloved boys!

And now the last steps were climbed and the wide but damp area of the orchard square with its many fruit trees extended to the back to the thick nut-hedge and the high poplars. Here one immediately hurried to one of the three viewpoints. At the west corner spread the whole length of the valley to the Elberfelder Hardt, the Islnder Hill, yes even to the Kiesberg, from where, as was related to the listening boys, the Rhine, Cologne Cathedral, and even the Siebengebirge could be seen. And in between was spread out a sea of houses; among them, the oldest church steeple, that of the Reformed Church at Gemarke; it was not until the 30's that the Unterbarmer community added the artistic towers. But the whole wide valley was enclosed by a frame of forested, greening heights, strewn with friendly farms; quite nearby, opposite were the gardens of the Mhlenweger houses, where one could wave to near neighbors.

From the stone bench the youth could then lean over the hedge and the wall, a safe place from which to look down into the abyss, and imagine himself to be in the rocky chasms of the Alps described by their father. Yes, the quiet summit of the garden with its distant views seemed specially made for dreaming of faraway places when the sinking sun set over the Rhein. That is why here in the orchard area was the place that young engaged couples sought, to spin out, undisturbed, their golden expectations of a beautiful future, overlooking all barriers that could block their way!

The corner opposite, toward the east, was most attractive in the mornings when the sun was over the Ehrenberg and lighted the wide basin of the valley in the fragrant mist. Below, around the church were gathered close blocks of houses on the left up to the steep cliffs of the Klippe, behind it the cheerful Krhbusch, where the ancient farmhouse was still preserved, from which the Wuppermann Family originated*the valley's only building that remained from the time of the Thirty Years War. Far in the distance could be seen the towers of Schwelm, the nearest town of the old Prussian district [Grafschaft Mark?]. Closer, beyond Rittershausen, the first margrave village, Langerfeld, was recognizable by its crown of fruit trees. In front of that lay the heavily forested summit of Buschenburg, where Father so liked to seek out the most beautiful vistas of the valley*there in the depths of the Rauental with his spinning mill. Then Heckinghausen, and in the farthest corner of the valley under the wide ridge of Ehrenberg, the Windmill, the estate of the related Beckmann family, with its bleacheries and gardens, its cows and crayfish, with the wonderful swimming place and the delightful meadow for ice skating, from which we often dragged ourselves home at dusk, dead tired. But above it all the top of Heckinghaus crowned the circle of forest hills, and beside it shone "Sonnenschein", the quiet asylum of the old boyhood friend, and led to the Heidt, whose summit was the favorite goal of adult hikers because it offered one of the richest views and was more comfortable to reach. Also, we mustn't forget the friendly little thicket on the Krebscleff, which offered the eyes a pleasant resting point down next to the town's houses. So when on Sunday mornings the bells rang across from the whole valley and from Wichlinghausen; when all roads lay still and empty, only to be filled the more at church time, when there was no sound to be heard from the weaving machines of the weekdays, then it was a picture of the peace of God, and one could dream that here also the peace of men must dwell. Therefore, the widowed father, who at 45 years was already bereft of his faithful life partner and mother of his nine children, loved to sit at this quiet place with his children to contemplate the wondrous, dark ways that God had led him and his orphaned children. Behind the church over there lay the cemetery, where the true mate and mother rested, where many of her daughters were to follow. There lived the faithful parsons who showed the father the comforting encouragement from God's word: It is the Lord! and the healing, living waters of the Gospel were brought to his soul, until he too found peace, and after so many of life's tumults could finally yield in peace. The grove had still a third view. It looked down into the narrow valley of Westkotter Street, where the working women were busy in the garden where their chilren played in groups, and from which rattled the sounds of weaving frames and machine pulleys. There life's toil and sweat came close to the growing generations and acquainted them early with the fate that they too would not be spared.

In late summer and fall the father came into the orchard with the boys. Then they were allowed to climb the tall trees to shake down the pears and plums, or to carefully pick the finer apples to store for the winter. But earlier, in the hot summer, the raspberry fields offered their treasures, to fill the housewife's flasks with the sweet lively juice for the sick.

That was Wuppermann's Garden, the old, dear friend for all members of the extended family, for it had something for each one: for the youth its treasures, to the elders it offered its quietness, to everyone its views and its friendly nooks and walks. Here lived two generations of love, extending love, receiving love. Therefore it shall remain ever memorable to us, a treasured picture of home even when we are in faraway places, and remind us: Love follows you; it is at hand. So the farthest land will become your home. 

Praise for God's Guidance 

Praise be sung to You, my Savior, Glory, honor be to You! Everything through You succeedeth; Everything You have made well. Humbly now I do acknowledge The wisdom of Your guiding hand, And proclaim both loud and joyful: "Blest is he who trusts in Thee."

Had You guided me, the foolish, In the way I oft desired, Given me all that I wished for, Warded off all that I feared; Had You bowed to my vain strivings, To my weak heart given in: O, Yes, then verily I would be Wretched, poor, and pitiful.

Yes, he who does, without rebelling, Let You guide by word and hand, He it is receives one promise Of Your wisdom after all. 

He can travel with no worry, Recognize with peace profound, Just this he knows above all others: How gloriously You guided him.

So now I'll stay with old and certain, Sticking firmly with my God, Let Him govern and hold sway here Gainst the mockery and scorn. Since all's well with me because I Ever tightly cling to Him, He has vouched for my wellbeing In the past, and evermore.

God be with me, God be with me! Oh, that is a lovely phrase. God be with me, God be with me! Now I go upon my way. God be with all my tomorrows, Silencing my every pain God be with me to the end; I rest my soul in God's great hand.

Spitta 

{It is not known whether this was a well-known hymn of that time [1875], or if it was written by Pfarrer Ernst Wuppermann especially for inclusion in these reminiscences. It has been paraphrased into English by Jo Fine Graham, whose father, Reverand E. Fine, was a German Lutheran minister in Lotts Creek, Iowa.-A.W.L.} 

Reminiscences of Brother Otto's Youth by the Youngest, Parson Ernst Wuppermann, Kochem recorded for his niece, Mrs. Clara Tafel

The earliest, sunny days of our youth were spent in the bright rooms of the old comfortable house with the huge outside staircase under the tall shady linden tree, and on the broad estate with the ample entrance gates, masterpieces of the smithy's art of 1782. From there the stairs led to the wonderful playground on the wide bleacheries, and on to the twelve-foot wide mill race (in those days still containing fish), with the bleaching-house and the indigo dyeworks. But behind the house towered, in seven ascending stone terraces, the friendly tree- filled garden, the Castle Boncourt of the family. At old Schüren, city life ended; here began the vegetable and potato fields, here began the country roads with their bottomless mud.

Little black-haired Otto, who followed a brother and four sisters, is said to have been a sturdy fellow, from whose eyes spoke the determination to maintain his rights with voice and hand. The nicknames for such youngsters tended to vary depending on the effect intended. So, sometimes it was: "Ùtteken, do help us pick a few beans!" or half-despairing: "Ùchs'ken ["little ox"], leave me alone at last!" One saw him then dreamily going on his way, snapping his fingers with both arms in the air. An earlier recollection of the 6-years-younger youngest sees himself and brother Gustav, as in the mornings, holding onto big brother's coat buttons, they were good-naturedly pulled to school through the dirty roads; or whistling up August K. and Otto H. in the Millroad.

Then I see him, jealously in possession of his big ram with the enormous round ammonite horns. In a wild gallop he came tearing down the Schellenberg, with the heavy Boller wagon behind him, which carried four boys; or perhaps the pretty sleigh, which the sisters preferred. The ram was a good friend, if he hadn't just been vexed by the boys into the notion of bucking. Otto decorated his harness with the indigo blue, madder red and saffron yellow suspender-bands and golden threads which he had wheedled out of Father's factory workers. In the barn he lived peacefully beside the horse, the squirrel, and the dozen splendid black chickens. In the back of the vegetable garden, under the 50-foot high cliff wall, where 100 years ago Grandfather had quarried out the many building stones, there Father gave the beseeching boys a piece of land for a Robinson [Crusoe] Island. There they dug a fort with ramparts and trenches and a dark stronghold out of chunks of stone. There Otto and Hermann Delius held tournaments, and strike mightily with wooden swords on wooden shields, on which they have painted the coats-of-arms of the Barmer Lion and the Schüren Mermaid in glowing colors. But the young clerk, Mr. Reckmann the Giant, is known to all the neighbor boys to set them up regularly with poles for their sieges.

Come vacation time, the Funcke brothers Wilhelm and Julius appear, and now no leap is too wide or too deep in the wild chase upstairs and downstairs on high, steep stairs without railings. Surely there was hardly anywhere in the 37 German allied states of that time such a playground. Unfortunately the prohibition of gymnastic apparatus as "dangerous to the state" prevailed here also.

Now let's look at Father's garden. Each of the seven terraces, all the way up, had its special charms. The vegetable garden had its splendid currant bushes, sour cherry and sweet pear trees. Right next to it was the lovely little garden planned by our dear Mother in winding English style, while the garden as a whole showed only the straight French lines. There lay the carefully tended grassy areas, with roses and flower beds, protected all around from prying eyes by big hedges of shrubbery. There in the dark ash tree arbor everyone loved to breakfast even in the damp fog. And on Sunday afternoons we had tea at the fountain when Father led the whole troop for walks: Ttersburg or Hatzfeld and llendahl, Buschenburg or Blombeek. Out there we never stopped; but in the garden there were palm-sized tea cookies with currants. When we begged Father to give us the key, the fountain sent up a 20-foot high stream of water, catching the sunshine in its droplets, to show the wonderful rainbow.

Here already began the sunny high espalier walls full of the fine Dutch varieties of fruit, every year the blossoms fighting the frosty fog of the hilly spring, later an admonition to the children: taste, and see how friendly the Lord is! Down here, orange cherries and greengage plums laughed at us; higher up in front the sour cherry tree on the dangerous corner, the favorite spot of the sparrows and the boys; next to that long gooseberry hedges and strawberry fields, the hothouses, and against the wall the delicious apricots, so rare here, and farther the grape wall which, protected and facing the sun, let its fruits emulate those from the Rheinland. At its base the asparagus beds, which Father himself cut; and then a spray of asparagus-green centifolien, often to send them to one of our dear aunts who lived nearby. Yes, to share and to give pleasure to others, that was our father's joy, and that was the youths' good turn. To be sure, they were rewarded by the aunts with Easter eggs, Mrten apples, and New Year's cookies. But the sisters took care that the whole summer long the flower vases were never empty. They made certain that there was never a lack of fresh vegetables on the table, that beans and berries of all kinds were picked at the right time whatever the weather, and not to forget the root vegetables; to fill the preserving crocks and numberless glass jars of Dreisaft [three-juice?] jellies and jams for the winter. Precious memories of youth for the three boys, how they were allowed to help in and under the trees.

Another steep stairway, and we stood before the conservatories. After St. Pancras Day, from one of these, great orange, myrtle and fig trees were wheeled out to crown this terrace. Out of the other, numberless pot plants were brought out to crown the other terrace. Here lay a stone seat, hidden in a grape arbor which with its unobstructed view invited one to dreams and quiet meditation; it had been our dear mother's favorite nook, also became Ùtteken's.

High in the free air rose another higher stairway to the mighty stone summerhouse with its wide Chinese roof, and above a glass lantern a widely visible weather-vane, the gilded mermaid. In the dark cellar was the wide cistern, from which the water off the roofs flowed to the three fountains*that is, when there was any.

This summerhouse with its open surroundings, with the neckbreaking steps and the nearby grove of trees, formed the favorite play area for the young people. On free afternoons, when Otto gathered his school companions here, when the very simple lunch had been quickly eaten, then began here the running and chasing and jumping head over heels for hours. Hermann Delius, the confidant from Bielefeld; August Klingholz, Otto Horath and Julius Engels; the ones from Barmen: Fritz Diergardt, Fritz Lorenz; Hoddik and Bresger, the boarders from outside, who went to the quite new excellent polytechnic high school*they vied with each other in play in summer and winter. And sword fights with sticks surged back and forth with changing victory and not without lumps.

Twice Father was away from home; then a long-cherished ardent wish was fulfilled: a regular siege of the summerhouse. The door was barricaded, but to reach the four high-set windows, ladders were set up, the old lances used by the local militia in l8l3 and crowbars were used to open the sliding windows, and suddenly a "Hurrah" announced the successful conquest of the fort. But the second time, as the battle raged at its hottest, the clash and splintering wasn't even noticed, suddenly there was our good father, with an astonished look on his face, and the siege of the fortress was permanently suspended. Instead they used the dark corners of the hothouses, where the bean poles were stacked and the marten traps were stored, as the favorite place for hiding, when it counted to be first at the game of l-2-3-4-Finkelstein [hide-and-seek]. Behind the summerhouse lay a dark passage of high fruit espaliers. That was a reliable refuge for the four siblings who became engaged during Otto's l4th to l8th years. And so it was also for the many cousins and nieces who as engaged couples so loved to visit the favorite Uncle Theodor and his wonderful garden. Then it went up the last 100 or 120 steps, and there we stood in the grove, with its play- interdicted grassy plots, tall pear trees and broad apple trees, the joy of climbers, its plums and greengages; the nut hedge and the bowling green, up to the high wall of poplar trees, the shelter against the hard north wind. But one gate led out to the shady little Fatloher Woods and the rugged cliff where the butterflies beckoned us to the eager chase. In the front of the grove two viewpoints extended so far into the Wuppertal that the view took a whole hour to scan the whole expanse. A panorama of wonderful beauty: under us the broad green bleaching fields, which at that time still extended all the way from Gemarke to Wupperfeld, encircled by gleaming white fences on which hung the white squares of linen and tapes, cut through by narrow streams used for sprinkling. If one looked up to the narrow country road of the valley one could see endlessly stretching cattle pastures with occasional farms. Above that, on the dark crown of the Barmer Forest, which extended from the top of Heckinghausen uninterrupted to Lichtenplatz, where now the T÷lletower rises, and on to the Cronenberger Height.

In the 1780's Elector Carl Theodor admired the rich, delightful beauty of his hilly land. On Saturday evening and Sunday morning the devout grandfather liked to sit here, encircled by his children, to hear the bells of the four town churches: Schwelm, Wupperfeld, Gemarke, and Unterbarmen, to listen and then with the children to follow their call. But through the week a different noise rose from early to late; the rattling of the weaving frames and belt winches, evidence of tireless diligence that was characteristic of the Wuppertaler, but also related to the joy of giving according to the proverb: "We have something to give, so long as we continue to give."

So this garden was for practically a century the Castle Boncourt for the descendents of our Grandfather, for the families of Reinhard Theodor and his sisters Springmann, Jung, and Cramer. Near the same ages, they remained in lively relationships till into the 1840's; this garden was their gathering spot. On Sunday afternoon the dear Uncle led the whole troop out into the hills and the lovely valleys of the area. For to enjoy God's rich Nature, that was a heartfelt joy of our father, and this heritage stayed with us siblings until our oldest days. So also he could sketch lively pictures of his travels through the Alps, France, Italy, and Holland, and also the magnificent stream of the Rhein on to Heidelberg, whither he had taken the four eldest sisters to boarding school. And how agreeable these short day trips were, with the hired coachman as troop guardian! But how attractive too were the stories of our sisters about the highlands with their unique wealth of fruit.

Then there was the tenth re-reading of Robinson Crusoe and Compes' Travel Descriptions*Father was opposed to fairy tales and poetic storybooks*no wonder that in the boy Otto's heart a deep longing arose for the ideas and idylls of the unknown; the wish to get to know far places. From his youth he had dreamed about it in that quiet viewpoint up in the grape arbor, which sent him out on long hikes and later travels even across the sea. Full of hope, so he says himself, we venture out into the world. Heaven hangs full of bass viols for you boys, Father used to say jestingly. Then times grew more serious; many disappointments couldn't be avoided, but today in the evening of our lives we must say, with thankfulness and joy:

The Lord has considered all things well, And made amends for all, To Him be praise and glory therefor. Early on he had found a trusted friend in his schoolmate Herman Delius, who shared all his enthusiasms and who was very much at home in our house. Otto was allowed to go with him to his parents' home in Bielefeld. With him, at age 14, during vacations he took hikes to the Milsper Cave and the Neander Cave, to Blankenstein and the Burg. At the ardent supplications of the 8- and 10-year-old brothers, these were trailed along, and dragged back dead tired but still eager and delivered home. Then Father too tried it with his three sons, and at Whitsuntide, and wandered through the magnificent green Ruhr Valley to Limburg up to Linne. Yes, even brother Theodor followed the general enthusiasm of the feet and wandered up the Linne with the three brothers. But on these four-day outings brother Otto had to bury himself completely in learning Latin vocabulary; for he still hoped to attend the Academy of Architecture in Berlin, toward which he had spent a year in Barmen completing a course in practical land surveying, which was appropriate because of his talent for drawing. Only the lack of ancient languages suddenly barred this path, and the merchant's son became a merchant. He had received a thorough preparation for this in the newly established polytechnic high school in Barmen, which reached to the rank of the one-year examination.

Our conscientious father placed high value on good connections for his sons, and he highly respected their teachers. He instilled in them faithfulness to duty in their work and deep respect toward their teachers through his own noble example. One of the youngest teachers related after 36 years that his respectful reception in our home first gave him courage in the strange formal surroundings. A primary student complained to the Herr Director that the other students had thrashed him; Otto gave him this reply: "We did this because he had angered one of the younger teachers." With the older men this could not possibly have happened; one impressed by his sharp punishment, another by his indestructible calm and love of justice, the Director by his fine teaching skills. The elementary rudiments were superior: dry German grammar and wonderfully sensitive assignments, mental arithmetic into the high numbers (383 x 546), geography and geometry, algebra on the blackboard. All names and historical dates were hammered in by rhythmic choral speaking. But one willingly learned thirty senegArabic [old Arabic?] monarchies to earn a praise mark, and at the 50th jubilee these were still perfectly recited to Mr. Ewich; then began the 86 Departments of France; the Provinces of China followed, and the towns of Silesia completed it. Praise marks! Yes, if only there hadn't been the bad censure marks in the six headings of the sinister classbook! If only we lazy, inattentive, disorderly, naughty boys hadn't lived in constant fear of the weekly report from the first day of the week. For that was read publicly before the whole school, before the parents saw it! And at 5 marks we got No. III, with public embarrassment and detention. Whether brother Otto got through this whirlpool more luckily than his brothers is no longer to be found out in the household annals. Father never accepted complaints about injustice, but had an excellent reply ready: "So, this week the teacher punished you undeservedly; but didn't you deserve it three times last week, and he didn't punish you? He can make mistakes too."

Then one took off like a squirted poodle. So, punishment? Our father, equally as serious as he was friendly, had quite discarded the cane with his younger children, but banishment from the family room to back room was terrible for us. One word, one look from him demanded and effected total obedience. After the early death of our never-to-be-forgotten mother he devoted himself completely to the rearing of his ten children, so that he resigned from all public offices and increasingly withdrew from the Concordia, in order to take daily walks with several of us, and kept all evenings for useful occupations, especially drawing, piano playing, and singing. None of us carried these talents to higher achievement, but they helped us all in our younger years and saved us from boredom and from requiring social life and its entertainments. Among the grandchildren beautiful fruits of higher accomplishment matured. The loving relationships with the four older sisters and the younger sister Clara must

have developed in the boys an early inclination to gentle chivalrous courtesy toward ladies (who were nevertheless then called females). In Father's house it was understood to watch our words: this is proper, or that is improper. So it was proper that the younger brothers on walks with sisters and unmarried nieces carried the umbrellas, and if they wanted to put on a disgruntled face, they shrank from Father's question: "Grumbler?"*Therefore at departure all eyes flew first to the weathervane, the little mermaid on the summerhouse, whether it looked toward the rain- bringing west. Half a century later when someone praised the returned brother Otto for his special American politeness, he quickly explained that this was a good inheritance of the German homeland that he had taken with him.

For the great responsibilities of rearing, the faithful God had given Father a new helper at his side, the just grown daughter Annchen. Our devout mother had given over and entrusted the children to her sincere, tender love, her tireless faithfulness, and we all can never forget how grateful we are for her motherly concern. She in turn found a true motherly adviser in Aunt Julchen Mller, an older unmarried niece of Father's, pastor's daughter from Wichlinghausen, who lived only 30 steps away. From her eyes shone heartfelt interest in the wellbeing and woes of the numerous nephews and nieces. She was the support of her cousin Theodor, our father; her house was the refuge of the grown young people of the whole extended family, especially the Funcke sons. She combined the gravity of the preceding century with the finest family refinement, rich experience, and modest affection. So she was indispensable. But the boys were careful not to give way to their wildness in her garden.

Another aunt, Father's unmarried youngest sister, Aunt Gretchen, also lived quite near, and she made a profession of her beautiful gifts*for drawing and painting landscapes in India ink, and piano playing and singing*by instructing the girls and boys. We are obligated to her for the telling likenesses in silhouette of all members of the family, which she could cut out so artistically. Our home life could not have been simpler in eating and drinking, in dress and furnishings, but was also solid. We held fast to older, sterner customs and habits. Hubeland's principles of health were followed, sometimes stretched to the extreme; toughening the body according to Salzmann, swimming in Wupperfeld and running in summer, ice skating in Heckinghausen and snowballing in winter. In the brotherly reminiscences there is a big picture of the dogtired youngest, gasping on the homeward attempt to catch up with the older ones. Keep going and bear it; that too will help you some day! said old Ernst Moritz Arndt. Gymnastics, unfortunately, still belonged to the forbidden activities. Dry boots really weren't known in winter. As we learned from the inspiring descriptions of Mr. Ewich that Hannibal and Caesar had slept on the bare ground, we tried to emulate them and even give up covers in the winter. For that Father constantly warned against extremes, except that the whole revolutionary spirit after the wars of liberation went in that direction. We sought our idylls in the ancient German times of Hermann, and enthusiastically read Cooper's idyllic descriptions of the emigrant's farm in North America.

Caste arrogance was foreign to the sons of our father, the old patriarchal factory owner. He himself was at ease in the workroom with the eight workers, who on Saturdays delivered their quotas, and the women who worked with the bobbins and reels. (In those days there really weren't any factory girls; they would rather be servant girls.) Father had a sympathetic word for each one. He kept a savings account book for them, and on May Day they clapped their hands over their heads, so amazed that they were so rich in interest. On New Year's morning the eight workers sat with us for congratulations, and with a little glass of Rhine wine and a piece of cake, the white-haired factory foreman Engstermann spoke of his fifty years with the firm, old Homberg of 46, Beckhaus of 36 years, and the boys listened.

In Mrs. Beckhaus's shop close by there was the famous bird which one could clearly hear talking in a deep man's voice: "Dat es Ùmstand em Island; mann kann kinen Voss gewechset kriegen." [Probably Plattdeutsch] Thus Father was the genuine son of his parents. He was temporary mayor of the city of Barmen during the Cossack winter of 1813-14, and was competent to fill this very difficult position. He defended the rights of his citizens against the Russian officers in his fluent French so energetically that once a Russian saber was held over his head. But once on a dark winter night the Cossacks' horses came trotting into our property, to demand quarter and "Wutki" [vodka?], then Grandmother encouraged him with the words: "Theodor, go with God. Do your duty!" So our courageous father often told us.

Father valued good neighbors highly, and also loyal friends, which he found in the extended family in the village and the area. The boys grew up under their influence. In the summer Uncle Weerts came from Arnheim with his daughters for long visits. Then a whole day was taken up when the whole numerous troop of young people was marched to Beyenburg and back, and often the Wuppertaler misty rain didn't spare us. A young Frenchman, Mr. Lebert, had in 1795 as an exile been given sanctuary by Grandfather. After forty years the old gentleman and his wife arrived; his jokes as well as his movable wig amused us greatly, for instance:

"Sant n'est pas sans t, mais maladie est sans t." But the favorite visitors for us boys were two widely traveled cousins, who like Odysseus were so forthcoming with the gift of storytelling that Father sometimes remarked: "Hey now, how many zeros shall we subtract?"

Yes, the strict love of truth of our conscientious father must not remain unmentioned, and equally the strict fairness and honorableness in his business; both of these he bequeathed to us in our upbringing as invaluable inheritance.

But all of this was rooted in that genuine piety which he received from his ancestors through regular church attendance, and which daily devotions at home cultivated and kept awake *soul of a Nathan. At seven o'clock in the morning all children had to be at breakfast; after this he himself read the devotion for the day, and at the right moment the whole group trooped toward school, whistling out their comrades on the street. But in the evening he read us a song, and punctually at ten o 'clock we all had to climb one or two stories farther*that was called, "going to Solingen!" Priceless customs, which he thus implanted in us for our whole lives. Invaluable also was his example of deep piety which he held for church, school, and authority, and the warm interest and caring that he expressed not only to his children, but also to all relaltives who were referred to his attention. From them his children later received their grateful recompense. So his memory has become a happy and blessed one to his children and grandchildren. His last exhortation was: "Children, don't forget to be thankful! Children, love one another!"