plantation, the same as yesterday, until we came to that of Pierre le
Gardinier, who had been a gardener of the Prince of Orange, and had
known him well.[154] He had a large family of children and
grandchildren. He was about seventy years of age, and was still as
fresh and active as a young person. He was so glad to see strangers
who conversed with him and his in the French language about the good,
that he leaped for joy. After we had breakfasted here they told us
that we had another large creek to pass called the Fresh Kil, and
there we could perhaps be set across the Kil van Kol to the point of
Mill Creek, where we might wait for a boat to convey us to the
Manhatans. The road was long and difficult, and we asked for a guide,
but he had no one, in consequence of several of his children being
sick. At last he determined to go himself, and accordingly carried us
in his canoe over to the point of Mill Creek in New Jersey behind the
Kol.[155] We learned immediately that there was a boat up this creek
loading with brick, and would leave that night for the city. After we
had thanked and parted with Pierre le Gardinier, we determined to walk
to Elizabethtown, a good half hour's distance inland, where the boat
was. From the point to this village there is a fine wagon road, but
nowhere in the country had we been so pestered with mosquitos as we
were on this road. The land about here is very poor, and is not well
peopled. We found the boat, and spoke to the captain who left about
two hours afterwards; but as the wind was against going out of the
creek, he lay by and waited for the tide. We returned by evening to
the point where we were to stay until morning. There was a tavern on
it, kept by French papists, who at once took us to be priests, and so
conducted themselves towards us in every respect accordingly, although
we told them and protested otherwise. As there was nothing to be said
further we remained so in their imaginations to the last, as shown
both in their words and actions, the more certainly because we spoke
French, and they were French people. We slept there this night, and at
three o'clock in the morning we set sail.
[Footnote 154: Pierre Cresson, a Picard, who after many years in
Holland came out to New Netherland in 1657, and lived at Harlem till
1677, when he obtained this grant on Staten Island. His son Jacques
embraced the Labadist views.]
[Footnote 155: _I.e._, behind the Kill van Kull. Mill Creek is
probably the stream now known as Elizabethtown Creek.]
_14th, Saturday._ Being under sail, as I have said, it was so entirely
calm that we could only float with the stream until we came to the
Schutters Island,[156] where we obtained the tide again. It was now
about four o'clock. In order to protect ourselves from the air which
was very cold and piercing, we crept under the sail which was very old
and full of holes. The tide having run out by daylight, we came under
sail again, with a good wind which brought us to the city at about
eight o'clock, for which we were glad, and returning thanks to God,
betook ourselves to rest.
[Footnote 156: Now Shooter's Island, opposite Mariner's Harbor.]
_15th, Sunday._ We went at noon to-day to hear the English minister,
whose services took place after the Dutch church was out. There were
not above twenty-five or thirty people in the church. The first thing
that occurred was the reading of all their prayers and ceremonies out
of the prayer book, as is done in all Episcopal churches. A young man
then went into the pulpit and commenced preaching, who thought he was
performing wonders; but he had a little book in his hand out of which
he read his sermon which was about a quarter of an hour or half an
hour long.[157] With this the services were concluded, at which we
could not be sufficiently astonished. This was all that happened with
us to-day.
[Footnote 157: This was the Rev. Charles Wolley, the only English
minister then in the province. A graduate of Emmanuel College,
Cambridge, he came out with Governor Andros in 1678 as chaplain to the
garrison, and remained in New York till 1680. He published in 1701
(London, two editions) a pleasant though fragmentary little book
entitled _A Two Years Journal in New York_, well worth reading in
comparison with Danckaerts's account of the province. Two reprints of
it have been issued (New York, 1860; Cleveland, 1902), the former
edited by Dr. E.B. O'Callaghan, the latter by Professor Edward G.
Bourne.]
_16th, Monday._ I was occupied to-day in copying my journal. In the
morning there came an Indian to our house, a man about eighty years of
age, whom our people called Jasper, who lived at Ahakinsack or at
Ackinon.[158] Concerning this Indian our old people related that when
they lived on Long Island, it was once a very dear time; no provisions
could be obtained, and they suffered great want, so that they were
reduced to the last extremity; that God the Lord then raised up this
Indian, who went out fishing daily in order to bring fish to them
every day when he caught a good mess, which he always did. If, when he
came to the house, he found it alone, and they were out working in the
fields, he did not fail, but opened the door, laid the fish on the
floor, and proceeded on his way. For this reason these people possess
great affection for him and have given him the name of Jasper, and
also my _nitap_,[159] that is, my great friend. He never comes to the
Manhatans without visiting them and eating with them, as he now did,
as among his old friends. We asked him why he had done so much
kindness to these people. "I have always been inclined," he answered,
"from my youth up to do good, especially to good people known to me. I
took the fish to them because Maneto[160] said to me, you must take
fish to these people, whispering ever in my ear 'You must take fish to
them.' I had to do it, or Maneto would have killed me." Our old woman
telling us he sometimes got drunk, we said to him he should not do so
any more, that the Great Sakemacker[161] who is above, was offended at
such conduct and would kill him. "No," said he, laughing as if that
were a mistake of ours, "it is Maneto who kills those who do evil, and
leaves those who do good at peace." "That is only," we replied,
"because Maneto is the slave and executioner of the Great Sakemacker
above;" and we then asked him if he believed there was such a great
and good _sakemacker_ there? "Undoubtedly," he said, "but he remains
above, and does not trouble himself with the earth or earthly things,
because he does nothing except what is good; but Maneto, who also is a
_sakemacker_, is here below, and governs all, and punishes and
torments those men who do evil and drink themselves drunk." Hereupon
we inquired of him why he did so then. "Yes," he said, "I had rather
not, but my heart is so inclined that it causes me to do it, although
I know it is wrong. The Christians taught it to us, and give us or
sell us the drink, and drink themselves drunk." We said to him:
"Listen! if we came to live near you, you would never see us drunk,
nor would we give or sell you or your people any rum." "That," he
replied, "would be good." We told him he must not make such a
difference between himself and a Christian, because one was white and
the other red, and one wore clothes and the other went almost naked,
or one was called a Christian and the other an Indian, that this great
and good Sakemacker was the father of us all, and had made us all, and
that all who did not do good would be killed by Maneto whether they
were called Christians or Indians; but that all who should do good
would go to this good _sakemacker_ above. "Yes," said he, "we do not
know or speak to this _sakemacker_, but Maneto we know and speak to,
but you people, who can read and write, know and converse with this
_sakemacker_."
[Footnote 158: Hackensack.]
[Footnote 159: The word, in the form _neetup_, has survived in local
speech in some parts of New England. "What cheer, _neetup_?" was the
Indian's salutation to Roger Williams on his arrival at Seekonk.]
[Footnote 160: The chief (evil) spirit.]
[Footnote 161: Sachem, lord.]
We asked him, where he believed he came from? He answered from his
father. "And where did your father come from?" we said, "and your
grandfather and great-grandfather, and so on to the first of the
race?" He was silent for a little while, either as if unable to climb
up at once so high with his thoughts, or to express them without help,
and then took a piece of coal out of the fire where he sat, and began
to write upon the floor. He first drew a circle, a little oval, to
which he made four paws or feet, a head and a tail. "This," said he,
"is a tortoise, lying in the water around it," and he moved his hand
round the figure, continuing, "This was or is all water, and so at
first was the world or the earth, when the tortoise gradually raised
its round back up high, and the water ran off of it, and thus the
earth became dry." He then took a little straw and placed it on end in
the middle of the figure, and proceeded, "The earth was now dry, and
there grew a tree in the middle of the earth, and the root of this
tree sent forth a sprout beside it and there grew upon it a man, who
was the first male. This man was then alone, and would have remained
alone; but the tree bent over until its top touched the earth, and
there shot therein another root, from which came forth another sprout,
and there grew upon it the woman, and from these two are all men
produced." We gave him four fish-hooks with which he was much pleased,
and immediately calculated how much in money he had obtained. "I have
got twenty-four stivers' worth," he said. He then inquired our names,
which we gave him, and wished to know why he asked for them? "Well,"
he replied, "because you are good people and are true _nitaps_; and in
case you should come into the woods and fall into the hands of the
Indians, and they should wish to kill or harm you, if I know or hear
of it I might help you, for they will do you no injury when they know
me." For he was the brother of a _sakemaker_. We told him that we did
not give them to him on that account, but only from regard because he
was a good person, although the good will or thankfulness which he
wished to show thereby was good. "Well," he said, "that is good, that
is good," with which, after eating something, he departed.
But at noon he returned with a young Indian, both of them so drunk
they could not speak, and having a calabash of liquor with them. We
chided him, but to no purpose, for he could neither use his reason nor
speak so as to be understood. The young Indian with him was a
_sackemaker's_ son, and was bold. He wanted to have a piece of meat
that was on the table, and on which we all had to make our dinner,
when we told him it was not for him. "Yes," said he, "I see it is so;"
nevertheless, and although we offered him something else to eat, he
was evilly disposed and dissatisfied, and would take nothing except
the piece of meat alone; but that was not given to him. Whereupon
Jasper told him he must be quiet, that the old people and we were all
his _nitaps_, and by degrees quieted him, they sitting together by the
fire and drinking their rum. They left afterwards for Long Island.
_17th, Tuesday._ Nothing transpired to-day.
_18th, Wednesday._ In the afternoon Jasper, the Indian, came back
again, and proceeded confidently to our room in the rear of the house,
but sober and in his senses. He told us how he had been with his
nephew, the _sackemaker's_ son, to Long Island, among the other
Indians; and that he had given away, not only his fish-hooks, but also
his shoes and stockings. We found fault with him at first for having
become so drunk, contrary to his promise, and when he well knew it was
wrong. To which he said he had to buy some nails for an Englishman who
lived near him, from another Englishman here, who had sold and given
him the rum.
I must here remark, in passing, that the people in this city, who are
almost all traders in small articles, whenever they see an Indian
enter the house, who they know has any money, they immediately set
about getting hold of him, giving him rum to drink, whereby he is soon
caught and becomes half a fool. If he should then buy any thing, he is
doubly cheated, in the wares, and in the price. He is then urged to
buy more drink, which they now make half water, and if he cannot drink
it, they drink it themselves. They do not rest until they have cajoled
him out of all his money, or most of it; and if that cannot be done in
one day, they keep him, and let him lodge and sleep there, but in some
out of the way place, down on the ground, guarding their merchandise
and other property in the meantime, and always managing it so that the
poor creature does not go away before he has given them all they want.
And these miserable Christians are so much the more eager in this
respect, because no money circulates among themselves, and they pay
each other in wares, in which they are constantly cheating and
defrauding each other. Although it is forbidden to sell the drink to
the Indians, yet every one does it, and so much the more earnestly,
and with so much greater and burning avarice, that it is done in
secret. To this extent and further, reaches the damnable and
insatiable covetousness of most of those who here call themselves
Christians. Truly, our hearts grieved when we heard of these things,
which call so grievously upon the Supreme Judge for vengeance. He will
not always let His name be so profaned and exposed to reproach and
execration.
We asked Jasper why he had given away his hooks and stockings. He
said, it was a custom among them, for the lesser to give to the
greater. We replied the _sackemaker_ was richer than he, and he
should, therefore, have kept them. "No," he said, "I did it as a mark
of respect and obedience." We gave him four more fish-hooks, and told
him he must take care of them for himself. "I will bring you fish as
soon as I catch any," he said as he went away, promising also that he
would get drunk no more.
From this time until the 22d of October, nothing special took place,
except that we spoke to one Ephraim, a young trader, who was just
married here, and who intended to go with his wife to the South River,
where he usually dwelt, for which purpose he was only waiting for
horses and men from there.[162] He tendered us his services and his
horses, if we would accompany him, and offered to carry us in his own
boat everywhere on that river, from the falls [of the Delaware], to
which we should have to travel by land, and where the boat would be
waiting for him to take him down the river; since he himself would
have to touch at many places on the river, in going down. As Bouman,
who was going there with horses, did not make his appearance, we
accepted the offer with thankfulness, waiting only for the time.
[Footnote 162: Ephraim Herrman, eldest son of Augustine Herrman of
Bohemia Manor, had on September 3, 1679, six weeks before this date,
married Elizabeth Rodenburg, daughter of Lucas Rodenburg, formerly
vice-director of Curacao. South River is the Delaware.]
_24th, Tuesday._ Margaret's ship in which we arrived here, being ready
to leave, but she not going in it, as it was said, we set about
writing letters, which we might give to our Robyn, and finished them
to-day, and also the copying of my journal.
_25th, Wednesday._ Having closed up our letters, we had Robyn at our
house, and gave them to him in his own hands, as we had heard from the
supercargo himself that he would run into Falmouth again for the
purpose of paying the duties; we gave Robyn money to post our letters
over London, together with something for his trouble, and with this,
wishing him the blessing of the Lord, we took leave of him; but
recollecting afterwards that we had forgotten to put a date to the
letters, which was very necessary, I had to go in search of Robyn
again, whom I found at last, and took back from him the letters. When
we had resealed them, I went after him again, but he had gone on board
the ship. I waited for an opportunity and went on board myself, and
handed them to him again. He was glad to see me on board; and while
there I went looking around to see how the ship was laden, and found
her so full that the poor sailors had scarcely room to eat or sleep.
The boatswain, who had now become mate, because the Dutch mate, Evert,
had become captain of a ketch, treated me with much kindness; but as
the boat and sailors were continually ashore, it was dark before I
could reach the land.
_26th, Thursday._ We inquired whether our journey to the south would
soon take place, and were informed it would not be this week. We
resolved not to remain idle, and to embrace the opportunity to cross
to-morrow over the North River opposite the fort to a place called
Gamoenepaen,[163] as soon as we could find the means of passage.
[Footnote 163: Communipaw, in New Jersey, founded in 1658. It is
uncertain whether the name is of Indian origin (Gamoenipaen), or is a
Dutch name made up from that of Pauw. The former is more likely.]
_27th, Friday._ We went after breakfast to see if we could be taken
over the river. We found a boat going soon, but we must wait a little.
In the meanwhile we made the acquaintance of a person from Zeeland, or
who had lived there a long time, for he himself was a Hollander. He
had been an apprentice to Jaques Fierens, printer, at the Globe in the
Gi street,[164] and, although I had been often enough in that house,
and he knew my face, he did not know me particularly. He came to this
country with Cornelis Everts of Zeeland, and had assisted in taking
it from the English in 1674.[165] He had remained here since and
married. He sometimes bound old books, and was the only bookbinder in
the country.
[Footnote 164: Jacques Fierens was from 1642 to 1669 a noteworthy
printer, bookseller, and publisher at Middelburg in Zeeland, where
Danckaerts (see the introductory note B to this volume) then lived.
Fierens's shop, as we know from other sources, was at the sign of the
Globe in Gistraat or Giststraat (_i.e._, Heilige Geest Straat, Holy
Ghost Street).]
[Footnote 165: In 1673, after the Duke of York and the English had
held New York nine years, two Dutch commodores, Cornelis Evertsen and
Jacob Binckes, retook it for the States General. The Dutch, however,
held it only a year.]
It was about noon when we crossed over. Our old woman at the house had
told us of another good woman who lived at this place, named
Fitie,[166] from Cologne, and recommended us to visit her, which we
did as soon as we landed. We found her a little pious after the manner
of the country, and you could discover that there was something of the
Lord in her, but very much covered up and defiled. We dined there and
spoke to her of what we deemed necessary for her condition. She has
many grandchildren, all of whom are not unjust. We continued our
journey along a fine broad wagon road to the other village, called
Bergen, a good half hour or three-quarters inland from there,[167]
where the villagers, who are almost all Dutch, received us well, and
were rejoiced to see us. They inquired and spoke to us about various
things. We also found there the cook of the vessel in which we came
over. He was sick of the ship, and was stopping ashore with his
relations here in order to recruit himself. He entertained us
according to his ability, and gave us some _hespaen_[168] to eat, a
wild animal somewhat larger than a cat. It was very fat, and of a good
flavor, almost like a pig. The skins of these animals are good peltry,
and are sent in great quantities to Europe. We had also some good
cider. Our cook took a short walk with us over the country, and showed
us the situation of the plantations around there, as he had lived
there a long time, and consequently was acquainted with all these
farms. The soil was very good, and indeed of the best that we had seen
anywhere. This good ground was for the most part on the declivities of
the hills, and so on below. Snake Hill, of which I had heard much, and
which I had imagined to myself was a large projecting hill, lies close
by and is only a small round hill; and is so named on account of the
numerous snakes which infest it. It stands quite alone, and is almost
entirely encircled by the North Kil.[169] It is nothing but rocks and
stones, with a little earth up above where a plantation could be
formed. We returned to the village by evening, and lodged with one
Claes Fransen, who had brought us over the river. He had a good old
mother,[170] and also a brother living there. His other brothers were
married, and lived in the same village. We conversed with these people
about spiritual things, and had great enjoyment therein. We were
entirely welcome. We slept upon some straw on the floor, and it was
lucky for us that he sold blankets, some of which he used to cover us.
We have nowhere, to my knowledge, seen or eaten finer apples. One kind
was very large, fair, and of good taste, fifty-six of which only could
be put in a heaped up bushel, that is, half a bag. Another variety,
somewhat smaller, but not less fair in appearance, and of a better
flavor, my comrade was acquainted with, and said they were called the
Double Paradise. He acknowledged they were very delicate.
[Footnote 166: Fytje Hartman, widow of Michael Jansen Hartman. She had
seven children.]
[Footnote 167: Bergen was founded in 1661. Both it and Communipaw are
now in Jersey City.]
[Footnote 168: Raccoon.]
[Footnote 169: Hackensack River.]
[Footnote 170: Immetie Dirx, widow of Frans Claesen.]
_28th, Saturday._ Early this morning Claes prepared to cross over to
the Manhatans, to carry to market some fine fat mutton from a sheep
which he had killed the night before. He sold it for two
_blanken_[171] a pound, reckoned in Holland money and Amsterdam
weight. It was rainy the whole morning, and it had stormed so hard in
the night that we could not find a dry place in the house to lie in.
We were apprehensive of hearing of some misfortune to the ships,
especially two lying under Staten Island, one of which was Margaret's,
and was bound for Holland. Claes was alarmed for his boat, in which we
had to cross over; but going to the shore about eleven o'clock, he
found it there, but half full of rain water. The mast which he had
left standing was overboard, and to be looked for, but was afterwards
found, and the mast bench and socket were out of their places, and in
pieces. He had, therefore, some repairs to make. It cleared up
gradually, and he resolved to cross over, which he was the more
anxious to do, because he was going to bring back Domine Tessemaker,
who had promised to come the next day and preach for them before his
departure; for although there is a considerable congregation in this
vicinity, and they are abundantly able to support a minister, they
have none; for it is not easy to obtain one, and there is no
probability of their doing so as long as the country belongs to the
English, though they intend to build a church next spring. For the
present they have nobody except a _voorleser_,[172] who performs his
service for them on Sundays, in the school house, where they assemble.
They have, however, agreed with the minister of the city to administer
there the Lord's Supper three times a year, for which he receives
thirty bushels or fifteen bags of wheat. This service he performs on
week-days, because he cannot be absent from the city on Sundays, where
he is the only minister. This Gmoenepaeu is an arm of the main land on
the west side of the North River, beginning at Constable's Hook,
directly opposite Staten Island, from which it is separated by the Kil
van Kol.[173] On the east is the North River; on the north the
mainland Pavoni or Haverstroo, or indeed Hackingsack; and on the west,
the North Kil, which separates it from New Jersey and Elizabethtown.
It is almost an hour broad, but has large salt meadows or marshes on
the kill. It has many bays and inlets, and lies very commodiously for
the inhabitants, because it is everywhere accessible by water from the
city. The village of Bergen lies about in the middle of the tract, and
has been reasonably strong in time of the war with the Indians.[174]
It has very fine farms which yield well.
[Footnote 171: Say three cents.]
[Footnote 172: Parish clerk, precentor, and (usually) schoolmaster.
The church records of Bergen go back to 1664, and the first church
edifice was built in the next year, 1680.]
[Footnote 173: Now Constable's Point. Pavonia was the domain of
Michael Pauw. Haverstraw lay well to the northward, Hackensack to the
northwestward, of the Bergen peninsula.]
[Footnote 174: "The Town is compact and hath been fortified against
the Indians." Captain Nicolls, in George Scot, _The Model of the
Government of East New Jersey_, p. 142.]