About this Memoir

Carl August Döhring was born on October 15th, 1844 in Hütten, Neustettin, in the province of Pomerania, in what was then the Kingdom of Prussia. Today, it would be called Sitno, Szczecinek, Poland. As a young man, he hoped for an education and a job in the Prussian postal service. By the middle of his life, he was in the full-time service of the early Catholic Apostolic Church, eventually being called to serve as Archangel (1895-1927).

His wife, Friederike Ottilie Müller was born March 11th, 1855 in Remscheid, in the Prussian province of Rhine. They married in Cologne on November 22nd, 1878, one year after her father’s death. Together, their work and faith took them across shifting borders at a time of great religious fervor and widespread political change. Fortunately for us, they left memoirs documenting over 100 years of personal history, the expansion of their church, and the lived experience of the changing German state.

Carl August Döhring died on November 28th, 1927 in Neustettin, and Friederike Ottilie Müller followed him on February 9, 1934. My hope is that they would be happy to know their story lives on for their many, many descendants.

Their memoirs were found in the papers of Hedwig Maria Wagner Döhring, wife of Karl Siegfried Döhring, daughter-in-law of Carl & Ottilie Döhring. She came to the United States after the death of her husband and was cared for until her own death in 1981 by her niece, my mother-in-law, Louise Julie Döhring McClendon. 

Hedwig transcribed but did not translate the handwritten diaries. They were still in Ostpommersch German when I found them. With respect to my English translation: 

• The text rarely breaks lines. For legibility, I have added paragraph breaks and section labels that are not part of the original text.
• Where the document is smudged or missing letters, that is reflected in brackets [ ] in my transcription and translation. 
• Additionally, many educational certifications, job titles and idioms have no modern equivalent and so they are translated verbatim, with bracketed [ ] explanations where possible. 
• Parenthetic notations ( ) are part of the original text.

Ottilie’s Memoir in English

My ancestors lived in Remscheid in the Bergisches Land. According to tradition, the paternal line of the Müller family came from Saxony, the maternal line of the Arns family came from Spain where they were driven out for their evangelical beliefs. Dark hair, dark eyes and a lively complexion still reflect their southern homeland in the present generation.

The Müller family embodies the pure Germanic type for their gender through their tall height, blond hair and blue eyes.

Both my grandfather’s were born in 1800. Their age went with the year. They were already friends and connected in a business before their oldest children married. My paternal grandfather was called Gottlieb Müller. He was simple, good natured, practical and diligent in his business. He also taught his sons to be disciplined in work. My father said in later years that he and his brother worked for several hours early in the morning when they were at school. The finish tools in their grandfather’s blacksmith shop had to be wiped clean and put away.

My grandmother was called Lisette, born Büschmer. She had a blessed inner spiritual life and had an elegant, noble disposition and appearance.

The original family home was in Stachelhausen, located in a part of Remscheid. The building still exists in a lithograph image (now in Otto’s work room). I remember very clearly the building and the flower beds in front of it, and the two great laurel trees flanking the entrance. In an adjoining wing were business offices and storage rooms, next to which was a large smithy in which the tools, principally files, planes and chisels were manufactured. 

Close by, my grandparents had a small farm. But this was later abandoned due to grandmother’s ill-health.

Their four children were called Otto, Julius, Laura, and Auguste. Otto, the eldest, was my father. He was born on 3 March 1828. He had a stately figure, blue eyes, blonde hair. According to Aunt Laura’s stories, after returning from a boarding in Geneva he wore it according to the fashion of the times, in curls, falling to his shoulders. He was the picture of a real German youth. 

After attending the public school in Remscheid, he went to boarding school in Switzerland for further training. After this, he served out his year in Cologne. He took his first business trip to Russia at the age of 28. It was well received and opened up a new, large market for sales. 

The old forge was no longer sufficient to fill big orders, so a large factory was built under my father’s guidance in a beautiful valley, called Tyrolean Works. Originally, in the water-rich valley of the two forges, you could hear them running day and night. When there was enough water, it was like the heartbeat of the forest that surrounded them. To run the factory, they had to build a giant smokestack, large steam engine and falling hammers. When they were operating, it shook the whole valley. The products went to all countries, the big districts, and the sawmills in the interior of Russia.

My father visited St. Petersburg and Moscow 20 times. He also toured Holland, England, Sweden, Norway, France, Spain and Portugal. He could tell very interesting stories about his travels. He had a special affection for Russia. At that time, you had to travel 8 days and nights in a sleigh to get from St. Petersburg to Moscow. They were dangerous journeys because of both wolves and robbers. My father had no fear and, in all his travels, never carried a weapon. He was friends with many of his colleagues in business. Several came from far away to visit him. I remember a family named Kolschien, which was accompanied by an interpreter from the interior of Russia, who came to visit my father, in order to get to know Tyrol.

My father got married on June 28, 1854 at the age of 26 years with Julie Arns, the eldest daughter of family friends, the Arns. My mother was, both in appearance and nature, the pure embodiment of her sex. She was multi-talented, especially in music and languages. In Vilvord, a Belgian boarding school, she learned the French language in just a short time. She was of gentle character and very much loved.

The second son of grandfather Gottlieb Müller was called Julius. He was less gifted. His mother attributed this to the fact that he had been given too many strong sedatives as a small child, because he was particularly restless. But the interconnected grandfathers handed over their joint business to their sons, and so Julius, as a son, also came into the business.

He briefly had an inclination towards the daughter of a teacher from Werth, in Stachelhausen. But his mother prevented the match, because she (the girl) seemed to lack sufficient social class. When her son (later on a business trip to Westphalia) got engaged, it was again to the daughter of a teacher, Johanna Viehtüchter. She was pure and amiable. After two residential buildings were completed in Tyrol, my parents and the Julius Müller family moved to Tyrol.

The subsequent daughter, Laura, third child of the Müller grandparents, was born on August 8, 1842. She had a talent for drawing and painting.

Auguste, the youngest daughter of the grandparents, was born on December 14, 1845. She was very involved with music and song.

When Tyrol was built, the original family home in Stachelhausen was sold, and a house was bought closer to the city in Blumen Street.

In later years, when grandmother was ill, she was faithfully tended by her two daughters. In the winter of 1873, she died of pneumonia.

For her daughters, she wished that they should remain unmarried, and that wish was, remarkably, fulfilled.

My grandfather Carl Arnold Arns was the eldest of six brothers. He was born November 12, 1800 in Schüttedelle near Remscheid. His father, Johann Peter Arns, died early and so Carl Arnold took over the care of my mother and his brothers. His mother, Katharina Dorothea, was born Böcker vom Bruch. His parents were married on February 24, 1800.

My grandfather had a noble, self-sacrificing character, noble in his simplicity. By the age of thirteen, he had given up school to help his father in pattern drawing. He married Franziska Huetz, born in the village of the same name on the border of Remscheid, on September 2,1830. She completed her husband’s ideal view of life through her common sense. In their devoutness, they were as one. When grandfather held family prayers, of which I have retained only the memory of his sonorous voice, she said the prayer and the Lord’s prayer.

Grandfather’s brothers were as follows: the next oldest, Herrmann, had a wedding in the same year to Louise Hohnsberg of Schüttendelle on September 2, 1830. He had a forge in which ovens were manufactured. His brother Reinhard was a lithographer. August had a forge making steel and iron tools, Johann Peter was pattern designer in a large weavers in Elberfeld. The youngest brother, Fritz, was a merchant, emigrated from Remscheid and married to the daughter of the Mayor Schwacht in Neuss am Rhine. He died early. His widow became quite old. She lived with one of her daughters, who was married to Josef Primavesi, a businessman, in Cologne, where I met her when I married. She is the grandmother of Leo Primavesi, the painter.

In 1848, the grandparents bought a nice, big house on the Market, which still stands now, but since the marriage of the youngest son Eugene is no longer owned by the family. That was the year of the revolution. A civil defense had formed in Remscheid, and grandfather had to frequently do night’s watch over the town hall. This was altogether a memorably tough year for my grandparents. Just before the move, her mother, who was living with them, died at the age of 84 years. In February, their second son, Carl Arnold, was born, as her two eldest daughters, Julie and Fanny, were confirmed at Easter of the year.

The siblings of my mother: Fanny, born 26 January 1834. After she had been at boarding school on the Rhine, she went to live with Uncle Carthaus in Holland at the age of 18 years. He had made a large fortune in America and settled in Amsterdam to retire. In winter, they lived on the Heeren Canal and in summer they lived at Rheinstein, their country house. After 11 years, her aunt and uncle died, and she returned to her parents house just as my mother became very ill. She took care of my mother until the end. My mother died on February 24, 1864. On June 29, 1865, we received her sister Fanny as a new mother.

The grandparents’ 3rd child, Julius, was an extremely talented and amiable character. He was in boarding school in Brussels. After he served his year, he joined as a third partner in the firm Müller and Arns. He participated in the 1870 war and was the only officer in his regiment to survive at Mars-la-Tour, although his coat was pierced by three balls. He was awarded the Iron Cross. Unfortunately he had no fixed character and was inclined towards recklessness. He married the daughter of an ice-skate manufacturer named Wirths, but she did not suit him. She had inherited too many qualities from her father, who was a great hunter, but was otherwise rough in his nature, and possessed little sense for domesticity.

Hulda, the third daughter, died at the blossoming age of 18, in the Typhus epidemic of 1862. I remember her – how she, all adorned, in a white dress, seemed to me an almost unearthly beauty. That was her last outing.

The subsequent son was called Alfred. He was the favorite of his parents and his siblings, he died at 11 yrs old.

Eugenie, born August 19, 1845, was of a short and dainty stature, the result of an operation she underwent soon after her birth to remove an outgrowth on her back. She was very warm and loving in nature. She nursed her mother, who died on May 15, 1871, seven years after the death of grandfather. Then she led the household of her two youngest unmarried brothers and got married in 1877 with Siegismund Becker, a nephew of the Mannesmann family. Of their four children, three still live: Helene and Julie, both teachers, and Walter Becker, teacher in Gummersbach.

Carl Arnold Arns was born on February 26, 1848. After attending public school, he went to boarding school in Liège. After that, he worked for several years in the Riecke company in Paris to get his commercial training. After that, he worked in my father’s factory. Then he went to Westphalia to get to know the industry there and after his return, in the mid-seventies, he built the first rolling mill in Remscheid with his youngest brother Eugen. It is still in the possession of his son Carl Arnold Arns, and has increased significantly in value. Uncle Carl always said, when the conversation turned to it, that until the completion of the mill, he had no time to look for a wife. In the year 1884, the time came. I had a friend, Eugenie Feldhaus, who invited us to Cologne. Uncle Carl also came and they left as an engaged couple. The wedding took place soon after. They moved into an apartment near the factory and, in the next few years, they had a son and heir, Carl Arnold, the present owner of the mill. 

The next youngest daughter, Elizabeth, remained unmarried because of sickness and lives with her mother, the widowed great-aunt Eugenie, in an especially beautiful villa in Remscheid built for them by Uncle Carl.

Uncle Carl was very gifted in machine technology. At a very young age, he produced an electric engine and later built [illegible ???] a small steam engine. He invented different machines for his mill. His most important invention was the pneumatic hammer, which he invented by accident when he wanted to construct a drop hammer for his operation. The hammer bar is pulled aloft by air pressure. Because of its simplicity and success the invention was compared by technical newspapers to the Egg of Columbus [An expression meaning, a discovery which seems incredibly simple, but only after the fact]. 

It is the only invention that Uncle Carl ever patented, and only in Germany. Uncle Carl built himself a beautiful house in Bismarckstrasse with the patent revenue, and his son and family moved into it when he [the son] eventually took over the plant. Uncle Carl then moved into a second house he’d built on Bismarckstrasse, but it was not destined for him to live there long. He died in 1918, shortly before his 70th birthday, and there ended his busy life. In recent years he had suffered from a heart condition, but that did not prevent him from continuing to create and helping his son out in words and deeds during the war. He died without previous illness, after spending the evening in a very heartfelt way with his family, children and grandchildren. He had a great reverence for his parents, and showed a great reverence for his family. He seemed to inherit all the hard work of his ancestors. In spite of his successes, he remained a simple and undemanding kind of person, who was always willing to please others.

Eugen Arns, born December 2, 1851, was the youngest son of the grandparents. After attending public school he was in boarding school in Brussels. After getting to know the industry in various factories, he built the rolling mill with his brother Carl. He was not as energetic as his elder brother, but had merits and qualities of character that made him indispensable to his brother; the latter often said that construction of the factory and the difficulties of introducing a whole new industry could not have been overcome without his brother Eugen. 

There are now a number of rolling mills in Remscheid, the company is called Gebr. Arns [Arns Brothers]. The brothers were inseparable and a model of brotherly unity. Eugen married Julie Mannesmann, my best friend. In this way, we two friends have stayed close in the great family ark. Uncle Eugen built himself a very nice house on Lenneper Street. His daughters, Emmi and Gertrude are married. The youngest followed her husband to Mexico. She is presently staying with her husband and child at her mother’s house in Remscheid. 

Uncle Eugen did not live long. As a result of a protracted ear ailment, which was not operated on in time, ulcerations penetrated into his brain, and he was taken from this life in his prime. He is one of those, lost too soon, where you feel a life was clearly interrupted and that it would take an eternity to unfold such a richly valued life.

My parents had five children. I, the oldest, was born on March 11, a Sunday, in 1855. On 29 July, 1856, I got a sister. She was baptized Aline. On 28 April 1858, a daughter was born again, Antonie Friederike. She died on November 1, 1859 as a result of seizures.

On December 14, 1869 the long awaited son and heir finally appeared, a beautiful, healthy child. I still remember when he showed off the bright buttons of his first knickers with great pride. He died at just 3 years of age from the dreaded quinsy [abscess on the tonsils and throat].  Papa wrote about this in the family chronicle, ‘God, in his wisdom, has determined that the dearest thing that one has must be taken!’

On February 16, 1862 a daughter was born named Fanny. My mother took the loss of little Otto very hard. She died a year after that on February 27, 1864. I was not yet eight years old and felt the loss of my mother very deeply.

On June 29, 1865, we got a new mother in [my mother’s] sister Fanny. We got six more siblings, three of whom died early again, three living: Arthur, Julie and Paula. Arthur was born on December 12, 1869, and lives in Wiesbaden (Dentist). Julie, born on August 24,1871, later Frau von Lüde, widowed, lives alternatingly in Berlin and Hanover. On March 29, 1874 Paula was born. She married Dr. Robert Jacob of Kreuznach. They lived in Ammendorf at Halle, where her husband died suddenly of boils in 1911. She now lives with her two children, Herbert and Lotte in Köslin.

In September of 1875, our family moved from Tyrol to Darmstadt. My father had a great desire to rest after all the energy and vigor of his busy working life. Added to that, it was then that social unrest began. So it happened that he retired at only 47 years old, when his son was not yet 6 years old. The Tyrolean factory was sold in July 1875 to the sons of Peter Caspar Schmidt at Reinshagen.

The exit from Tyrol happened this way: My father drove the landau [a 4 wheeled carriage with a folding top] himself with the two black horses, Meta and Molli. My mother and we six kids all fit comfortably. It was Noah’s ark, as Papa called it. The coachman Mohr rode alongside on the riding horses. 

We arrived in Cologne on the evening of September 16, 1875. We decided to take a ship up the Rhine. After we ate dinner at an inn on the Rhine, loading began on the ship – wagons, horses, we children and parents. We could have been in Mainz the following morning, but because of the low water level and the heavy fog, the ship lay idle for a long time, and so we did not arrive in Mainz until the following evening. Everything was unloaded and the horses were harnessed to the wagon. The driver got on his horse. It was very foggy. My father had two torchbearers run in front of the car so that we could get from the port to the train station at the right time and catch the last train to Darmstadt. We stopped at the Zur Traube inn late in the evening. We stayed in the hotel for eight days. In the meantime the furniture arrived by train. 

The Villa Heitmann, which Papa rented, was furnished and we moved in. It is beautifully located on the Herdweg in a beautiful garden. It has a high tower with a wonderful view of the city and the Odenwald. As nice as it was, we only lived there for a year. The fact that there were no stables for the horses resulted in some inconvenience and so my father bought a large, newly built house on Wilhelmstrasse, the so-called Engelhaus. It got its name because there were angel heads carved in stone on the face of it. My father made many improvements. One day he came in from outside and said to my mother: ‘Now everything is ready!’ That evening, he suddenly fell seriously ill with pleurisy, and died ten weeks later, on July 28, 1877, at the age of 49.

I supported my mother in his care and stayed awake with her on his last night. My father was fully conscious until his last breath. At midnight, he said, “I’m dying” and then lay quiet and still. The doctors tried to stop life from fading with camphor injections. These were difficult hours. I felt the angel of death approach and had only one wish: that my beloved father would go to God in peace. He lay quietly and breathed out his soul without any struggle. I saw him, with his last strength, slowly and shakily bring his two outstretched hands together for prayer. The place where they lay on the light gray silk blanket was marked dark. It was the death sweat. So he fell in the prime of life into the grave. His hair had not thinned, his eyes were sharp and he had never known a toothache. We lost a lot in our father. His early death was a serious loss, the whole magnitude of which we only learned in our later years. During the mourning period, my mother had the desire to have relatives from the homeland around. My father’s father, who survived him by four years (he died from a previous illness at the age of 81 year) stayed with my mother after the funeral, and later also spent the summertime with her in Darmstadt. After father’s death, we lived in the house which he had built with so much care and love for his family. My mother was not in good standing with her sisters, but through grief this softened, she invited both to Darmstadt, and they accepted the invitation.

After the death of my father, my sister Aline and I had a difficult time. Before we moved away from Tyrol, my father had asked his oldest sister Laura to paint a picture of Tyrol. She found inspiration and made a sketch from nature in oil. This has passed into our possession. At the request of my father’s Aunt, the original image was reproduced by an art professor in Dusseldorf at 4x magnification (owned by my brother Arthur in Wiesbaden).

During her stay, Aunt Laura lived in the Noeff[???] Sisters family boarding house. These ladies belonged to the Apostolic Church. They told my Aunt a lot about it, they took her to worship, and gave her books so her sister Auguste could get to know it also. The aunts recognized the special work that God was doing in this time through the 2nd Apostle and shared it with us also. When I was visiting Remscheid after this time and after many obstacles, the aunts’ desire was fulfilled and I attended services with them in Barman, I experienced something very special. I knew almost nothing about the matter and had, because we received the news of it through the Aunts, all the more respect – favored Aunts as they were, I had no inclination to attend the service. As I stood on the choir, looking down after the close of the service up to the sanctuary, and felt a peace that hovered above the sanctuary, I felt in my mind a divine revelation and the certainty that this was not the doing of men, but truly God’s work. With this sudden realization, the desire to live for it came to me, and the certainty that I could never let it go again. I made it my intention to attend services every Sunday. But things happened quite differently. When I returned to Remscheid late in the evening with the aunts, a dispatch was already waiting for me, calling me home because of my father’s serious illness. The next morning, I left and went into the house at the same time as a nun who came to the vigil. My sister Aline, who had a dislocated tendon in her foot and could not walk, had our four little brothers and sisters under her care. So it was I that shared in the care of my father with my mother. His state vacillated back and forth. Then accumulated pus brought about his untimely end.