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CHAPTER
VI THE
BURGHERS IN
the earliest
days of New Netherland there were no burgers because, as the name
implies,
burghers are town-dwellers, and for a number of years after the coming
of the
Dutch nothing worthy to be called a town existed in the colony. In the
middle
of the seventeenth century a traveler wrote from New Netherland that
there were
only three towns on the Hudson Fort Orange, Rondout, and New Amsterdam
and that
the rest were mere villages or settlements. These
centers were
at first trading-posts, and it is as idle to judge of the manners,
customs, and
dress prevailing in them by those of Holland at the same epoch, as to
judge San
Francisco in the mining days of 1849 by Boston and New York at the same
date.
These early traders and settlers brought with them the character and
traditions
of home; but their way of life was perforce modified by the crude
conditions
into which they plunged. The picturesque farmhouses of Long Island and
the
crow-gables of New Amsterdam were not built in a day. Savages must be
subdued
and land cleared and planted before the evolution of the dwelling could
fairly
begin. Primitive community life lingered long even on Manhattan Island.
As late
as 1649 the farmers petitioned for a free pasturage between their
plantation of
Schepmoes and the fence of the Great Bowerie Number One. The City Hall
Park
region bounded by Broadway, Nassau, Ann, and Chambers Streets continued
very
late to be recognized as village commons where the cattle were
pastured. The
cowherd drove the cows afield and home again at milking-time, and it
was his
business to sound his horn at every gate announcing the safe return of
the
cows. Correspondingly in the morning the harsh summons called the
cattle from
every yard to join the procession toward the meadows. When
Tienhoven,
Stuyvesant’s secretary, sent out information for the benefit of ‘those
planning
to take up land in New Netherland, he suggested that those who had not
means to
build at first might shelter themselves by digging a pit six or seven
feet deep
as large as needed, covering the floor and walls with timber and
placing over
it a roof of spars covered with bark or green sods. Even with this rude
housing
he suggests planting at once a garden with all sorts of pot-herbs and
maize, or
Indian corn, which might serve as food for man and beast alike.
Naturally these
pioneer conditions of living lasted longer in the farming region than
at New
Amsterdam, where as early as 1640 we see simple but comfortable little
houses
clustered in the shelter of the fort, and gathered close about the
stone
tavern, the West India Company’s stores, and the Church of St.
Nicholas. The
gallows and pillory, in full view, seemed to serve notice that law and
order
had asserted themselves and that settlers might safely solidify their
houses
and holdings. In 1648
the
building of wooden chimneys was forbidden, and roofs of reed were
replaced with
more solid and less inflammable material. The constant threat of fire
led to
drastic regulations for the cleaning of chimneys. It was ordered that
“if
anyone prove negligent he shall, whenever the Firewardens find the
chimneys
foul, forthwith without any contradiction, pay them a fine of three
guilders for
every flue found on examination to be dirty, to be expended for fire
ladders,
hooks and buckets, which shall be procured and provided at the earliest
and
most convenient opportunity.” The early
settlers
found much difficulty in enforcing public sanitation, for, in spite of
the
worldwide reputation of the Dutch for indoor cleanliness, we find the
burghers
in 1658 bitterly reproached for throwing their rubbish, filth, dead
animals,
and the like into the streets “to the great inconvenience of the
community and
dangers arising from it.” The burgomasters and schepens
ordained that all such refuse be brought to dumping-grounds near the
City Hall
and the gallows or to other designated places. Failure to observe this
rule was
punishable by fines or severer penalties. As
prosperity
increased, all conditions of living improved. Many ships from Holland
brought
loads of brick and tiles as ballast, and the houses began to assume the
typical
Dutch aspect. They were still built chiefly of wood, but with a gable
end of brick
facing the street. The steep roofs seldom had eave-troughs, at least in
the
early days, and mention is made in deeds of “free-drip.” The house
was
supplied, as the chronicler tells us, with “an abundance of large doors
and
small windows on every floor, the date of its erection was curiously
designated
by iron figures on the front, and on the top of the roof was perched a
fierce
little weather-cock to let the family into the important secret which
way the
wind blew.” The front doors were usually divided, as in the old houses
in
Holland, into an upper and lower half hung on heavy hinges. The door
opened
with a latch, and bore a brass knocker wrought frequently in the device
of an
animal’s head. Only on
formal
occasions was this door thrown open or the fore-room to which it gave
access
used, for the life of the family, as in all primitive communities, was
centered
in the kitchen. Here in winter roared the great fires up the
wide-throated
chimneys. Here children and negro servants gathered in groups and told
stories
of the old home and the new. Here the women knit their stockings and
here the
burghers smoked when the day’s work was done. But the fore-room, or voorhuis, though seldom
occupied, was dear
to the soul of the vrouw
of New
Netherland. Here stood all the treasures too valuable or too fragile
for daily
use: the kast, or
chest, stored
with household linen, the cabinet filled with Delft plates from
Holland, and
generally the carved four-poster covered with feather beds of prime
goose-feathers and hung with gay chintz. A shrewd
observer
has said that luxury implies waste while comfort lives in thrift. We
are safe
in assuming that comfort rather than luxury prevailed in New Netherland
and
that the highly colored pictures of elegant life on the shores of the
Hudson
represent a very late phase, when the Dutch influence still prevailed
under
English protection. The earlier settlers were a far simpler people,
whose
floors were scrubbed and sanded instead of carpeted, who used
hour-glasses
instead of clocks, and who set their four-poster beds in the rooms
where
visitors were formally received. It was of
course
the “great burghers” who set the
social as
well as the official tone in New
Amsterdam.1 It was they who owned the finest houses, who
imported
tables and chests of ebony inlaid with ivory. It was they whose wives
were
bravely fitted out with petticoats, over which an upper garment was
looped to
display the velvet, cloth, silk, or satin which marked the social
position and
material wealth of the wearer. The burgher himself went clad, according
to his
wealth, in cloaks of cloth or velvet, embroidered or silk-lined; but he
always
wore wide boots and wide breeches and a coat adorned with an abundance
of
buttons, the whole topped by a broad-brimmed hat adorned with buckles
and
feathers and seldom removed in the house. The dress of the farmers was
simpler
than that of the town-dwellers or burghers. It consisted generally of
wide
breeches, a hemdrok or
shirt-coat
made of wool or cotton, an overfrock called a paltsrok,
a low flat collar, the usual wide-brimmed hat, and shoes of leather on
Sundays,
and of wood on week-days for work on the bouwerie.
The children of burghers and farmers alike were clad in miniature
copies of the
garb of their elders, doubtless in many cases wearing the same garments made over by removing the outworn portions.
It was a question of warmth rather than fashion which confronted the
settlers
and their children. To those
of us who
believe that the state exists for the protection of the home and the
home for
the protection of the child, it is neither futile nor frivolous to
consider at
some length what life had to offer to the small colonists. Little Sarah
Rapaelje, “the first-born Christian daughter in New Netherland,” was
soon
surrounded by a circle of boys and girls. Cornelis Maasen and his wife
came
over in 1631, and their first child was born on the voyage. Following
this
little Hendrick came Martin, Maas, Steyntje, and Tobias. We have
already noted
the two little motherless daughters of Domine Michaelius who were so
hard put
to it for a nurse. A little later came Domine Megapolensis with his
children
Hellegond, Dirrick, Jan, and Samuel, running from eight to fourteen
years in
age. The patroon had directed that they be furnished with clothing “in
such
small and compact parcels as can be properly stowed away on the ship.” With the
era of
permanent settlers in New Netherland, cradles came to be in demand. In
the
region of New Amsterdam the familiar hooded variety was brought from
Holland,
while farther especially among the poorer folk birch bark was fashioned
into a
sleeping-place for the babies. For the older children trundle-beds
fitting
under the big four-posters of the elders and rolled out at night were
much in
use, since the difficulty of heating made economy of bedroom-space a
necessity.
This treke-bed and its
protecting
four-poster, however, probably came later than the built-in sloep-bank, little more than a
bunk in the
side of the wall concealed by a curtain and softened by thick
feather-beds. However rude the
sleeping-place of the babies, the old home lullabies soothed them to
slumber.
Dearest and most familiar was the following:
Thus to pictures of pigs in the bean patch and cows in the clover, ducks in the water and calves in the meadow, the little ones fell peacefully to sleep, oblivious of the wild beasts and wilder men lurking in the primeval forests around the little clearing where the pioneers were making a home for themselves and their children. When the
babies’
eyelids unclosed in the morning they opened on a busy scene, for
whatever anxious
vigils the father and mother might have kept through the night, toil
began with
the dawn. The boys were set to gathering firewood and drawing water,
while the goede vrouw
was busily preparing a
substantial morning meal of suppawn and sausage before her husband
began the
day’s work of loading beaver-skins or tilling the ground or hewing
timber. A
pioneer life means hard work for children as well as for their elders,
and in
the early years there was little time for play on the part of the
youthful New
Netherlanders. As prosperity advanced and as negro servants were
introduced,
the privileges of childhood were extended and we find accounts of their
sliding
on their slees or
sleds down the
hills of Fort Orange and skating at New Amsterdam on the Collect Pond,
which
took its name from the Dutch kalk, or lime, and was so called from the
heaps of
oyster-shells accumulated by the Indians. The skates were of the type
used in
Holland, very long with curves at the front and rear, and, when metal
could not
be obtained, formed of ox-bone. With an
appetite
bred of out-of-door work and play, and a breakfast hour at five or six
in the
morning, the children were hungry for the homely and substantial dinner
when it
eventually appeared at early noon. Whatever social visits were planned
took
place at the supper, which occurred between three o’clock and six. The
tea-table, the chronicler tells us, was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat pork and fried trout, cut up into morsels and swimming in gravy. The company, being seated round the genial board and each furnished with a fork, evinced their dexterity in launching at the fattest pieces in this mighty dish in much the same manner as sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. Sometimes
the table was graced with immense apple
pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches or pears; but it was always
sure to
boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog’s fat
and
called doughnuts or olykoeks.... The tea was served out of a majestic
Delft
tea-pot ornamented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and
shepherdesses tending pigs, with boats sailing in the air and houses
built in
the clouds.... To sweeten the beverage a lump of sugar was laid beside
each cup
and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum. In the
houses of
the richer colonists, as prosperity advanced, shell-shaped silver boxes
for
sugar, called “bite and stir” boxes, were set on the table and,
according to
one authority, the lumps of sugar were of the nature of toffy with
molasses
added to the sugar. The feast
ended,
the young folk went their homeward way lighted by the moon, or, late in
the
century, on dark nights by a lantern hung on a pole from every seventh
house. When
the curfew rang from the belfry “eight o’clock,” lights were put out
and all
was made fast for the night, while the children’s minds were set at
rest by the
tramp of the klopperman,
who
shook his rattle at each door as he passed from house to house through
the dark
hours, assuring the burghers that all was well and that no marauders
were
about. If winter
offered
sports and pastimes, spring, summer, and autumn had each its own
pleasures,
fishing and clam digging, shooting and trapping, games with ball and
slings,
berry picking, and the gathering of peaches which fell so thickly that
the very
hogs refused them. The market days in New Amsterdam offered a long
procession
of delights to the young colonists. But merriest of all were the
holidays which
were observed in New Netherland after much the same fashion as in the
old home.
I
do not know how
to account for the fact that while the struggle of the Dutch people
with the
Papacy had been as bitter as that of England and the throwing off of
the yoke
by the Dutch fully as decided, they still retained the holidays which
the
Puritans eschewed as dangerous remnants of superstition. Perhaps it was
on the
principle of robbing Satan of his hoofs and horns but keeping his
cheerful
scarlet costume, or perhaps they thought, as Rowland Hill remarked,
that “it
was poor policy to leave all the good times to the Devil.” In any case
it was
all grist to the children’s mill. On the 1st
of
January all was arranged for the greeting of the New Year. Mighty bowls
of
punch were brewed, cordials prepared from long-cherished family recipes
were
brought out, and the women, in their best apparel, seated themselves in
the
seldom-used ontvangkamer,
where
wine was handed to their callers to be received with the wish of a
“Happy New
Year!” While these stately ceremonies were in progress the young people
amused
themselves with turkey-shooting, sleigh-riding, skating, and dancing. After New
Year’s
Day the most characteristic national and local holiday was Pinkster, coming in the seventh
week after Paasch, or
Easter, and falling
generally in late May or early June. The orchards were then white with
blossoms
and the grass thick with dandelions and spring flowers. Children set
out early
to gather boughs from the green woods. These boughs they sprinkled with
water
and left over the doors of late sleepers that the sluggards might be
drenched
on opening the door. At first all was innocent merriment, gathering of
Pinkster
flowers, and picnicking; but for some unexplained reason this festival
was gradually
relegated to the negroes. Apple-jack was freely consumed, barbaric
dances
began, and fun so far degenerated into license that the white people
and their
children shunned the festivity. The Kermis, an Old World festival,
was one of
those early introduced at New Amsterdam. It originated centuries before
and had
taken its name from the kerk
mis or church
mass. In the olden days it
was celebrated with pomp and solemnity, but it early developed a more
festive
character. Booths and stalls were erected for a market, and dances and
processions were organized. The first stroke of the clock at noon
opened at the
same moment the market and the first dance. The last stroke saw white
crosses
nailed on all the bridges across the canal and on the market place. It
was
indeed a festive appearance that the market presented, with its double
stalls
filled with eggs and gherkins, its booths hung with dried fish, its poffertjeskraam dispensing the
tempting
batter-cakes, and its wafelkraamen
offering the more costly and aristocratic waffles. The youths and
maidens were
given full license to parade arm in arm along the streets singing
“Hossen,
hossen, hossen!” and making the town ring with their mirth and
laughter. The
first Kermis held at
New
Amsterdam was in October, 1659. Booths were arranged on the parade
ground, and
barter and sale and merrymaking went on gaily for six weeks, to the
unspeakable
joy of the little Hendricks and Jans and Annetjes who wandered from
booth to
booth. But keen as the
delight of the Dutch children may have been, there was in their minds
the hope
of even better things to come a few weeks later, at their own especial,
particular, undisputed feast of St. Nicholas, the beloved Santa Claus,
patron
saint of children in general and of young Netherlanders in particular.
The 6th
of December was the day dedicated to this genial benefactor, and on the
eventful night a white sheet was spread on the floor. Around this stood
the
children singing songs of welcome, of which the most popular was the
familiar
If the
Saint would
ride forth thus accoutered and if he would do what they asked of him,
the
children explained that they would be his good friends, as for that
matter they
always had been, and would serve him as long as they lived. At last the
fateful
moment arrived. A shower of sweets was hurled. through the open door
and amid
the general scramble appeared the Saint in full vestments. attended by
a
servant known as Knecht Ruprecht,
and, after the Dutch settlements in America, a, black man, who added
much to
the fascination and. excitement of the occasion. He held in one hand an
open
sack into which to put particularly ill-behaved children, while in the
other
hand he carried a bunch of rods, which he shook vigorously from time to
time.
The good Saint meanwhile. smilingly distributed to the children the
parcels
that he had brought, and, after these had all been. opened and the
presents had
been sufficiently, admired, the children dropped into their
trundle-beds to
dream of all the glories of the day. When
the
dust-sheet and litter of wrappings had been removed, the older people
gathered
around a table spread with a white cloth and set out with chocolate
punch and a
dish of steaming hot chestnuts, while the inevitable pipe, ornamented
with a
head of St. Nicholas, made its appearance and the evening ended with
dancing
and song in honor of the “goed heilig man.” Besides these stated anniversaries, home life had. its more intimate festivities such as those celebrating the birth of a child, whose christening was made quite a solemn event. Every church owned its doop-becken or dipping bowl from which the water was taken to be dropped on the baby’s head. One beautiful bowl of silver dating from the year 1695 is still in existence in a New York church. About a week after the birth of the little New Netherlander, the neighbors were summoned to rejoice with the proud father and mother. In the early days of the colony and in the farming region, these gatherings were as rude and simple as they were under similar conditions in Holland. The men were invited at noon to partake of a long pipe and a bottle of gin and bitters. The women arrived later to find spread for their entertainment dishes of rusks spread with aniseed and known as muisjes or mice, accompanied by eggnog. As society grew more sophisticated in the colony, these simple gatherings gave place to the elaborate caudle parties, where the caudle was served in silver bowls hung about with spoons that each guest might ladle out for himself into a china cup the rich compound of lemons, raisins, and spiced wine. It
is evident
that
there was no lack of material good cheer among the colonists of New
Netherland,
and we may be sure that the boys and girls secured their share of
substantials
and dainties. I fear they were rather rough and rude, these young
burghers, for
all the reports which we have of them show them always in conflict with
law and
order. The boys especially, owing to deficient schooling facilities,
were quite
out of hand. They set dogs upon the night watchman at New Amsterdam and
shouted
“Indians!” to frighten him in his rounds. They tore the clothes from
each
other’s backs in the schoolroom where the unfortunate master was
striving to
keep order. In Fort Orange sliding became so fast and furious that the
legislators were obliged to threaten the confiscation of the slees’ and
it was
no doubt with a keen realization of the behavior of their offspring
that the
inhabitants of Flatbush inserted these words in the articles of
agreement with
the new schoolmaster: “He shall demean himself patient and friendly
towards the
children and be active and attentive to their improvement.” However
little
learning from books entered into the lives of the young colonists, much
that
was stimulating to the imagination came to them by word of mouth from
the wilden, from the
negroes, and from their
elders as they sat about the blazing fire in the twilight, or schemerlicht. Then the tales
were told of
phantom ships, of ghosts walking on the cliffs of the Highlands, and of
the
unlucky wight who found his death in the river where he had sworn to
plunge in
spite of the Devil, a spot which still bears the name of Spuyten Duyvil
in
memory of the rash boast. We may
find it hard
to reconcile the reputation of the Dutch as a phlegmatic and
unimaginative
people with the fact that they and their children endowed the Hudson
with more
glamour, more of the supernatural and of elfin lore than haunts any
other
waterway in America. Does the explanation perhaps lie in the fact that
the
Dutch colonists, coming from a small country situated on a level plain
where
the landscape was open as far as the eye could see, and left no room
for mystery,
were suddenly transplanted to a region shut in between overhanging
cliffs where
lightning flashed and thunder rolled from mountain wall to mountain
wall, where
thick forests obscured the view, and strange aboriginal savages hid in
the
underbrush? Was it not the sense of wonder springing from this change
in their
accustomed surroundings that peopled the dim depths of the hinterland with shapes of elf
and goblin,
of demons and superhuman presences? At any
rate the
spirit of mystery lurked on the outskirts of the Dutch settlements, and
the
youthful burghers along the Hudson were fed full on tales, mostly of a
terrifying nature, drawn from the folklore of three races, the Dutch,
the
Indians, and the Africans, with some few strands interwoven from local
legend
and tradition that had already grown up along the banks of the Hudson. It was a
simple but
by no means a pitiable life that was led in those days by burghers and
farmers
alike on the shores of this great river. Never does the esteemed
Diedrich
Knickerbocker come nearer the truth than when he says: “Happy would it
have
been for New Amsterdam could it always have existed in this state of
blissful
ignorance and lowly simplicity; but alas! the days of childhood are too
sweet
to last Cities, like men, grow out of them in time and are doomed alike
to grow
into the bustle, the cares and the miseries of the world.” ___________________________
1 In 1657 the
burgomasters and schepens
were
authorized to create a great burger-recht the members of which should
be in a
sense a privileged class. It was set forth that “whereas in all
beginnings some
thing or person must be the first so that afterward a distinction may
take
place, in like manner it must be in establishing the great and small
citizenship.” For which reason the line of great burghers was drawn as
follows:
first, those who had been members of the supreme government; second,
the
burgomasters and schepens
of the
city past and present; third, ministers of the gospel; fourth, officers
of the
militia from the staff to the ensign included. The privileges of this
caste
were open to the male descendants of each class; but as they could be
secured
by others outside the sacred circle on payment of fifty guilders it is
difficult to understand wherein the exclusiveness lay. The small
burghers were decreed
to be those who had lived in the city for a year and six weeks and had
kept
fire and light, those born within the town, and those who had married
the
daughters of citizens. A payment of twenty guilders was exacted of all
such.
This effort to promote class distinctions was soon abandoned. In 1668
the
distinction was abolished and every burgher, on payment of fifty
guilders, was
declared entitled to all burgher privileges. |