by Richard Bergmann
At a family gathering this past December, my aunt shared with me the story of my great-great-grandmother, Barbara “Bärbel” Böhr Dick, and our ancestral connection to the Alsace region of France. Until then, I knew little about the Böhr family, so I was intrigued when she sent me The Recollections of the Franco-German War, 1870-71, an article published in the 1989 Journal of Mennonite Studies, translated and edited by Harry Loewen (University of Winnipeg) link. It was this article that sparked my curiosity and led to a unique opportunity to trace our family roots to Alsace.
Many of our TourMagination travelers have studied and traced their own family genealogies, and now it was my turn to take a crack at it!
We arrived in Geisberg, a small, sleepy village on the outskirts of Wissembourg, after a short drive from Strasbourg. Since it was January, the true beauty of the region remained hidden behind the wet and foggy weather typical of the season. Geisberg, and what would have been the castle, is situated on a high ridge overlooking Wissembourg and the surrounding farmlands, where the fertile reddish-brown soil is patiently waiting for the spring planting season.
Thanks to Google Maps and a bit of research, I was able to find the remnants of the Geisberg gate (as mentioned in the article). Now, it looks like a dilapidated, uninhabitable house, tired and sagging with tarps covering the roof in a feeble attempt to keep out moisture. The structure seems ineffective, with gaping holes in the doors and boarded-up windows. Modern homes have been built around what would have been the castle grounds. Across the road from the gate, a Mennonite church stands quietly, and as we explored the area, we discovered other ruins.
It was a quiet Monday, so we decided to knock on a few doors to see if anyone might have local insights into the history. After several unsuccessful attempts, we were pleasantly surprised when, on our third try, we knocked on the door of a complete stranger and were introduced to Raymond Hirschler. My attempts at speaking in English, (and broken German, and French) to explain our purpose and connection to the property seemed awkward, but Raymond’s eyes lit up when he heard the Böhr name. It turned out that the Hirschler family was connected to the same Hirschlers I had read about, although our relationship was distant.
Raymond invited us in for tea and asked his son to accompany us to the church, where they had a key to a museum room inside. (You know it’s a quiet rural area where the family holds the keys to the church across the street!)
In this small museum room, Raymond’s grandson Florian proudly showed us a 3D model of the former estate, along with various articles about Mennonite family names. On display was the bell that had been spared from the original estate, and we browsed through artifacts and stories, though it was a bit difficult to understand without translations.
We were then shown to the cemetery, where we pored over the headstones. As Raymond had mentioned, we found more Böhr names, including what I believe was the headstone of my great-great-great-grandmother (now we’re going way back!).
Our last stop was the monument on the edge of Geisberg, constructed as a memorial to various battles, including the famous 1870 battle that Bärbel Böhr writes about in her memoir. It was quiet there, and it was hard to imagine Mennonite families—known for their peaceful nature—living amidst the destruction of war, with countless lives lost and property destroyed. The memorial commemorates the fallen French soldiers, but I couldn’t help but feel that there were untold stories of Mennonites like my great-great-grandmother, who, as a young teenager, was thrust into roles during these turbulent times, helping the wounded and those in need of provisions.
This was a special day and one that I was able to share with Diane and also your youngest son Matthew. We used to take the kids geocaching looking for the hidden treasures – we weren’t sure what to expect from this day, but we left with a sense of treasure-hunting satisfaction—not because we had uncovered a hidden chest of riches, but because we had discovered stories that, unless shared, would be lost to time.
