Washing houses and wells in the Saarpfalz district as places for communal work and social interaction

In a time without running water

As part of the ‘Women’s Footprints in the Saarpfalz District’ project, the aim is not only to highlight the biographies of remarkable women, but also to examine places that formed part of women’s lives.

In days gone by, wells and washhouses played a central role in managing the household. A hundred years ago, many private homes were not yet connected to the public water supply. In Oberwürzbach, for example, a water main was not installed until 1930, whilst the Rittersmühle district was not connected to the central water supply until as late as 1950. Before that, water for daily use had to be fetched from communal wells, which was usually a task for the women and, in some cases, the older children as well.

Local historian Karl Uhl wrote about the well in St. Ingberter Schafgasse – later known as Elstersteinstraße – noting that the miners’ wives not only fetched water there, but also carried out various household chores: “However, the women fetching water had no time for ‘chatting’, even though the 45 miners’ wives did not need to carry food, unlike, for example, the wives of the 20 smelters, who, when the whistle blew at 12, had to be at the smelter with their lunch baskets whilst [the others] were still at the well, cleaning and washing their vegetables and lettuce.”[1]

There were fountains of this kind in many places to meet the population’s need for fresh water. Since time immemorial, the local council had been responsible for tapping springs, keeping them clean and constructing pipelines to supply water to the various fountains.

Some water points were specifically used for doing the heavy laundry, such as the wash well in Rohrbach in the Wiesental valley behind Spieser Straße. Sometimes such a wash well was also used as a cattle trough, which – as one can easily imagine – occasionally led to hygiene problems. For instance, in Blickweiler am Wiesenthale there was a wash well that served this dual purpose and was contaminated with dirt and faeces, posing a health hazard. Despite repeated attempts by the town of Blieskastel to rectify the situation, these problems could not be resolved.[2]

How did washhouses come about?

In some places, the local communities built special washhouses. These buildings mostly date from the 18th or 19th century and were an indispensable part of village life for centuries. Today, they stand as silent witnesses to a way of life that had to manage without running water in the home.

The washhouses were built right next to springs, wells or small streams, so that a constant supply of fresh water could flow in. They provided the villagers, especially the women, with a sheltered place to do their washing. At the same time, however, they also served as a social meeting place where people could socialise and exchange the latest gossip.

As far as we know today, the history of covered washhouses dates back to the 18th century. In the Middle Ages and the early modern period, women washed their laundry on stones by streams or rivers. In the wake of the Industrial Revolution and the associated pollution, covered structures began to appear in significant numbers towards the end of the 18th century, funded by the local council.

Examples from the Saarpfalz district

There were several such facilities in the Saarpfalz district, but most of them were demolished long ago and only a few photographs bear witness to their existence. An initial list, organised by municipality, can be found in the publication *Die Saarpfalz – Geschichte, Kultur und Ortschaften im Saarpfalz-Kreis*.[3] In the magazine *Saarpfalz*, published by the same publisher, photographs of the washing places and wells in the Saarpfalz district are compiled on a double-page spread.[4]

In Oberwürzbach, however, a washhouse of this kind at the Felsenbrunnen has survived the vicissitudes of time and offers a vivid insight into the functionality of such structures. According to the list of listed buildings, it was built around 200 years ago and renovated again in 1927. It is fed by a stream that originates in the ‘Laichweihertal’ and carries very soft water, i.e. water with a very low lime content. There was once a well on the same site, which was subsequently converted into a washhouse.[5] The washhouse had several basins, each with a fresh water inlet. In these, the laundry – which had already been treated at home in a wash trough using lye and, in some cases, boiling water – could be rinsed. A new washhouse was built in Rentrisch in 2003, although there are indications that the original building was situated on the opposite side, towards the Scheidter Bach.

Such facilities could also be found right in the centre of St. Ingbert: right up until the 20th century, the women of St. Ingbert did their ‘big wash’ at the ‘Ecker Waschbrunnen’, which was situated on Dammstraße, where the Hammersweiher once stood. There were two wash troughs there, covered by a simple wooden structure. After the Second World War, the washing area was razed to the ground.[6] The washhouse, on the other hand, which stood directly beside the millrace and flanked the imposing town mill, was demolished along with the mill in 1973. At this site, there were as many as seven or eight wash troughs where people worked busily. Even from a distance, the sound of ‘Geplaul’ (beating the laundry) could be heard, rivalling the clatter of the mill wheel. Contemporary witnesses recounted the lively hustle and bustle that prevailed at the washhouse by the town mill: ‘It was often lovely there when the local women and girls gathered at the well. The chatter of their voices often drowned out the clatter of the mill and the rush of the water. From early in the morning until midnight, it was a hive of activity there, and many a lad found his sweetheart there.”[7]

The Big Wash

Looking back, the whole process may seem downright romantic, but we must not forget that, until the mid-20th century, doing the big wash was an extremely complex task that involved great physical exertion and took at least a whole day. At home, the laundry was boiled in a wooden tub before being transported in baskets or by handcart to the village well or washhouse, where it underwent further stages of processing: rinsing the fabrics in various basins or, where necessary, beating or scrubbing them on a washstone. This was not only physically demanding work, but could also be very unpleasant depending on the weather conditions, as can be seen from eyewitness accounts by housewives of earlier times: ‘Until around 1920, our house had no running water; we had to fetch water from the pump. On washing day, I had to carry the laundry through the village to the wash well and wash it out at the wash trough (there were two of them), come rain or shine. In winter, the apron I was wearing would freeze solid.”[8] These tasks were usually carried out collectively, so that the washing process also took on a social dimension and encouraged interaction. However, the process of public washing was also associated with social control, for example with regard to cleanliness and intimate aspects of life such as menstruation or a possible pregnancy.[9]

“Places where feminism is practised”

Historical documents also show that things were not always so civilised at the washhouse:

The mill well had been ‘the property’ of the ‘citizens of Bliescastel’ since its renovation in 1777. At this ‘covered mill or washing well near the house of Abraham Levy the Elder’ not only clothes were washed, but the latest news was also exchanged. But evidently the gossip and rumour-mongering went so far that it even reached the count’s court at the castle, prompting them to take action against the ‘women’ who knew how to use “their blasphemous tongues and unwashed mouths in a shameful and godless manner”.[10]

Because of this phenomenon, research has sometimes regarded the washing fountains as ‘sites of practised feminism’. Women were able to discuss problems here and develop strategies and measures for mutual support.[11]

In addition to the fountain in Mühleneck mentioned above, a washhouse was later built. “Inside the brick building were sandstone troughs for soaking and rinsing, as well as tables for brushing the laundry. In front of the washhouse lay a stone for fulling.”[12]

What remains?

With the introduction of the washing machine – by the 1950s at the latest – the days of gruelling labour lasting for days on end were over, and the washing wells and wash houses became a thing of the past, quickly fading into oblivion. However, some district and street names have survived, offering clues to the past: ‘In Mimbach, there is still the “Waschgasse”, and in Altstadt the “Wäschbach” still flows, fed by a specially drilled, vigorously bubbling spring. The district known as ‘Wäschwiesen’ – like the ‘Bleichwieschen’ in the neighbouring village of Limbach – represents another stage in the cleaning process: Here, provided the sun was shining brightly, large cloths and sheets were spread out so that they could dry in the sun and turn truly brilliant white. They were repeatedly sprinkled with cold water to ensure that the drying process did not proceed too quickly. A ‘bleaching lane’ winds its way through Webenheim.”[13]  

But proverbs such as ‘airing one’s dirty laundry’ – meaning to spread gossip – and the insult ‘old gossip’ have also survived to this day.

Written by: Dr Susanne Nimmesgern, historian and women's representative of the Saarpfalz district

_{Published: 24 July 2026; Last updated: 24 July 2026.}