The sixth of July had arrived, and little Miss New York was fidgeting
nervously in her chair--draped with the Star Spangled Banner and the
flaunting colors of the Dutch Republic--placed in line with the hostess
and the receiving party of the day. She was a rather startling Miss New
York, arrayed as a Goddess of Liberty--she had claimed she was too modern
to be a vrouw--with her chair as well as her small person hung with
placards of well-known places, streets, and buildings of the metropolis.
By her side stood Madame New Amsterdam--Mrs. Van Vorst--whose
multitudinous skirts stood out from her figure with such amplitude that
she resembled the quaint little green pincushion that dangled from her
waist. Her neat white cap was tied under her chin with formal stiffness,
while a large silk apron completed a make-up that transformed the
slender, dignified Mrs. Van Vorst into a typical Dutch matron. She too,
like her daughter, was hung with tiny white signs from bodice to skirt,
which excited curiosity if not admiration.
"Oh, Mother, I do wish they would hurry and come!" cried Miss New York
impatiently, craning her neck to see if some one had not yet appeared on
the broad stairway leading to the main sitting-room. "Oh, somebody's
coming!" and the little lady, with the weight of a city on her
shoulders, drew back as she clapped her hands with delight.
"Ah, here comes the Governor's lady," exclaimed Madame New Amsterdam as
Madame Stuyvesant--Mrs. Morrow--announced her coming by stopping on the
threshold of the low-ceiled room, and bowed with such stately formality
that Miss New York's eyes suddenly stilled, as she stiffened with
similar dignity to receive the first guest.
The Governor's lady was followed by Annetje Jans, her comely little
person looking like a blooming Dutch posy, arrayed in a bright green
petticoat and a blue waistcoat with yellow sleeves. The brown eyes,
ready smile, and brilliant cheeks of Miss Nathalie made her a fitting
representative of the little lady who formed so large a part of the
history of New Amsterdam, coming over in 1630 in the ship _Endracht_
with her husband and three children from Holland. After the death of her
husband, who left her a _bouwerie_ (farm) of sixty acres, a good part of
New York, she married Dominie Bogardus, thus becoming with her wealth
and influence a dominant character in the colony.
Annetje came a few steps forward, and then bobbed such a low curtsy that
the wings of her lace cap flapped out like the sails of a windmill in a
greeting to her hostesses. But in a second her old-time pose was
forgotten, as her eyes fell on the much "be-signed" person of the lady
of the house, and she flew to her aid, declaring that she was losing
some of her signs.
"This will never do," she commented as she hurriedly pinned the sign
"Bouwerie" in its place. "Oh, and here's another old place that's gone
astray!" poking "Der Halle" on a straight line with its neighbor, "De
claver Waytie."
"Will you please inform me why New Amsterdam is thus placarded?" It was
the voice of the Governor's lady, who was curiously watching this
adjustment of signs.
"Why, these signs are the Dutch names of the different localities and
streets as named in the days of New Amsterdam," explained Annetje
quickly. "See. Broad street means Broad way; _Kloch-Hoeck_ was the site
of the first village, as it was all covered with bits of clam and oyster
shells, the word means Shell Point. _De claver Waytie_ was a hill
leading to a spring covered with grass, where the young maidens used to
bleach their linen. The path they wore up the hill came to be known as
_Maadje-Paatje_, Maiden Lane. _Der Halle_ was the name of a tavern near
a big tree on the corner of Broad and Wall Street. It took the arms of
six men to go round _der groot_ tree.
"Here is _Cowfoot Hill_, the old cow-path up the hill, _Canoe Place_,
where the Indians used to tie their canoes, and _Catiemuts_ is the hill
where the Indians had built their castle. _Collect_ means a dear little
lake near-by, yes, and here's the Boston Highway, here's the
_Stadt-Huys_, the town hall. _Graft_ was a ditch crossed by a bridge;
_De Smits Vlye_ was an old blacksmith shop near the ferry to Long
Island. _Vlacke_ was the grazing ground for the cows, now the City Hall
Park. _De Schaape Waytie_ was the sheep pasture--"
"Annetje Jans," exclaimed Madame Van Stuyvesant at this point, with a
solemn face, "do you expect me to remember all those Dutch names?
Verily, child, you have improved your time and twisted your tongue." But
Annetje was off, for at that moment she spied another arrival, one of
the Orioles, and as the sprightly dominie's widow was to act as mistress
of ceremonies, she was soon by her side, as she stood hesitatingly in
the doorway.
"How do you do, _Mutter_. Oh, but you do look fine!" cried Nathalie as
her keen eyes noted the broad appearing figure with hair pushed straight
back under a close fitting cap, short petticoat and gown displaying her
wooden sabots. The _mutter_ was knitting industriously, like a typical
Dutch vrouw, as she talked to Annetje and told of the woes that attended
the getting up of her make-up.
Annetje now led the new arrival to the line waiting to welcome her.
"Allow me to present to you Catalina de Trice, the _mutter_ of New York,
having been the first woman to land on that famous little isle."
"Yes," added the _mutter_ with a stiff little bow to the grand Dutch
dames receiving her with stately courtesy, "I came over in the first
ship, the _Unity_, sent by the West India Company to the settlement, and
I have the added distinction," another quaint bob, "of being the mother
of the first white child born in New Amsterdam, Sara Rapelje."
Catalina had no time to continue her family history for Annetje had
hurried her to Miss New York, a little lady in whom all the Pioneers
were greatly interested. She was next shown a table in the rear of Nita,
holding a ship encrusted with silver frosting to represent snow, and
bearing the words, "_Half-Moon_." On the deck of this famous craft was
the miniature figure of a man, which Nathalie explained, was intended
for the discoverer who had named the river Hudson after himself. Back of
the ship were small sized rocks with the sign, "Great Rocks of
Wiehocken," which Annetje declared needed no explanation.
A few feet away was a large windmill guarded by a demure little
serving-maid who was no other than Carol. With her flower-blue eyes and
corn-colored hair hanging in two braids from under her cute little cap
she was a miniature Dutch vrouw. Catalina was now invited to pull one of
a number of gay-colored streamers that flew with the windmill as it
buzzed rapidly around.
To the girl's surprise, as she gave a quick pull to a ribbon, a card
dropped from one of the sails. It was painted with a gaudy red tulip
with an appropriate verse on Holland's national posy. Catalina, on being
told to keep it, pinned it to her bodice, and then hurried with Annetje
to receive the guests standing at the door, the two girls being the
oldest representatives of the Dutch colony.
The new comer proved to be Tryntje Jonas, alias Barbara Worth. She was
made known to the hostess as the mother of Annetje, and as the first
nurse and woman doctor in the settlement. Her skirt was of true
linsey-woolsey, from which hung an immense pincushion. With her glasses
and her knitting-bag on her arm she looked duly professional as she paid
her respects to the Dutch vrouw with stately dignity.
A sweeping curtsy and Madame Kiersted, Annetje's daughter, otherwise
Grace Tyson, was telling with pride of the part she had played as Indian
interpreter, when the officials of the town were making a treaty with
the Indians. She was well-versed in the Algonquin language, she
explained, as she had played with little Indian children from the time
she was a wee lassie.
She told, too, how she had signed a petition and presented it to the
councillors, begging that the good vrouws be permitted to hold a market
day. This petition was granted, and market day was held thenceforth on
Saturdays, when the dames of the colony were permitted to offer their
wares for sale on the Strand near her home. Furthermore, the Madame
stated she had a shed built in her back yard, so that the Indian squaws
could make brooms and string wampum, which they, too, sold on market
day. From a little bag she now produced a wampum belt, explaining that
it was made of twisted periwinkle shells strung on hemp. A blue
clam-shell was also brought forth, which had been punctured with holes
and which was called _sewant_; these two shells at that time
constituting the currency of the colony.
But the Indian's friend had gone and in her place stood a _grande dame_,
the famous Madame Van Cortland, generally known in the olden days as
"the maker of a stone street." Madame, when inquiry was made, said she
had been born in Holland, but came to the _dorp_ to marry her lover,
Captain Oloff Van Cortland. "We lived in a very grand house for those
times, for it was made of glazed brick and had a sloping roof with a
gable turned towards the street, after the manner of the 'Patria,'" she
added with pompous gravity. "There were steps leading to the roof, too,
so when it rained or snowed the water could run into a hogshead in the
yard instead of on my neighbor's sidewalk or head. The house was
furnished in a grand style, all the furniture came from Holland, and in
front of it was a little stoop with two side benches and a door with an
enormous brass knocker."
"But the stone street, Madame?" inquired Madame New Amsterdam, who
seemed greatly interested in these little stories of the people and
doings of the city whose name she bore.
"Cobbles," corrected Dame Van Cortland. "You see, it was this way. My
husband, the captain, resigned from the militia and went into the
brewing business. He built a brewery on Brower Street near the Fort, one
of the first lanes made by the settlers. But alas," sighed Madame
ruefully, "when my husband's brewery wagons made their way over the lane
they raised so much dust and dirt that I begged my better half to pave
it with stones. He laughed at me, as was his wont, and the dust and dirt
grew thicker on the lane. Driven desperate, I now marshaled my servants
to the lane, and we laid it with small, round cobblestones. I won my way
as well as fame, for the little stone street was the first of its kind
in the _dorp_, and was regarded with much curiosity by the burghers."
Annetje, now spying two more comers, flew to welcome them and the grande
dame of Manhattan Isle was forgotten, as an ancient little lady appeared
with silver curls peeping from beneath a cap of rare old lace, a
rustling silk crossed with a kerchief, and a chatelaine hanging from her
girdle. She bowed with quaint grace before the ladies, as Madame
Killiaen Van Rensselaer, otherwise known as, "The Lady of the Thimble."
"Yes," spoke the little old lady, who by the way was a Bob White, and
who had studied her part with due diligence, "I was the first woman to
wear a gold thimble. I was seated at my work one day with an ivory
thimble, big and cumbersome, on my fingers, the kind 'tis claimed the
tailors use. A young friend of mine to whom I had rendered some slight
service was at work in his shop just across the lane. He spied my
thimble, and, being a goldsmith, then and there vowed that on my
birthday I should receive a gift. 'Tis needless to say that this vow was
fulfilled, for the young man presented me with a gold thimble on that
day, which he had made with the wish that I would wear his finger-hat as
a covering to a diligent and beautiful finger."
A comely Dutch matron with bright eyes and ruddy cheeks was now bowing
in sprightly manner before the hostess. By her pose she was immediately
recognized as Lillie Bell, who indeed was just the one to personate the
fair and bewitching "Lady of Petticoat Lane," alias Polly Spratt, Polly
Prevoorst, and Polly Alexander. The fair Polly was the recognized social
leader of New York in the days when coasting down _Flattenbarack Hill_,
or skating on the _Collect_ with a party of lads and lassies as merry as
herself gained her the name of a hoyden. Always the bonniest, the
merriest lass at a wedding or dance, the acknowledged leader of her set,
counting her suitors by the score, it was not to be wondered when she
became a matron at seventeen. As a widow of twenty-six she assumed
control of her husband's business, building a row of offices in front of
her house. She, too, built a stone street, Marketfield Lane, thus
inciting her neighbors to do the same. Hence, the brick walks that now
came into fashion called _Strookes_.
The keeper of a shop, the maker of a stone lane, the owner of a
wonderful coach, Madame's fame as a beauty and a social leader, added to
her shrewdness, her ingenuity, and sprightly intelligence, won her an
influence in the more weighty matters of the town, gaining her the title
of "My Lady of Petticoat Lane." Undoubtedly it also won her another
husband, as when the _pinter_ flower was in bloom, pretty Polly married
Mr. James Alexander, one of the most distinguished gentlemen of the
times.
But on they came, the Pioneer Girls, as Dutch matrons or maidens,
impersonating those famous pioneer women, who not only were the bone and
sinew of old New York, but who were the progenitors of some of its most
distinguished men in the days that followed. Katrina de Brough, who
lived in a fine stone house on Hanover Square, was a most suitable
example of the housewife of the day. Her days were spent in planting her
garden, culling her simples, distilling her medicines, and many other
well-known crafts of the times.
Judith Varleth had gained the name of the "witch maiden," having been
arrested and imprisoned in Hartford, Connecticut, when quite a young
girl. Whether her beauty or her Dutch tongue brought this dire calamity
upon her is not known, but the witch maiden was duly released and
returned to her home by her brother, and in a few years disposed of her
unfortunate name by marrying a gallant gentleman by the name of Col.
Nicholas Bayard.
Margaret Hardenbroeck not only won a husband, Captain Patrus de Vries, a
wealthy ship-owner, but won fame as well. On the death of her husband
she continued his business, and established a line of ships, the first
packet line that crossed the Atlantic. Her ability as a business woman
evidently won her not only fame, but a husband, for she soon married
again, a Mr. Frederick Phillipse, and in later days became the owner of
the Phillipse Manor, so well known during the days of the Revolution.
Cornelia Lubbetse became Mrs. Johannes de Beyster, while her daughter
Marie, the wife of three husbands, became known as the wealthiest woman
in the settlement. She was also noted for her industry, filling a great
_kos_ (chest) with beautiful linen tied in packages with colored tape
and marked by herself at the time of her first marriage. She also
carried on a thrifty business trading with ships between New Amsterdam,
Connecticut, and Virginia, as well as being the mother of "The Lady of
Petticoat Lane," who married a younger brother of her third husband.
Anna Stuyvesant, Rachel Hartjers, and Madame Van Corlear were all in due
turn presented to the hostess, as well as Grietje Janssen, who was known
in the old days as a double-tongued woman, having won fame as being the
gossip of the burgh.
But the merry chatter and low-pitched laughter of these would-be
historic maidens was suddenly stilled, as a strange, grotesque figure
was seen in the doorway gazing at the assembled company with an odd
little smile on its bedaubed face.
A murmur of surprise and astonishment caused eyes and mouths to open in
curious wonder, as Annetje, although as bewildered as her neighbors,
made her way to the door to welcome the unknown intruder.
As Nathalie approached the uncouth, blanketed savage it emitted a
strange sound; some claimed it was a grunt, while others said it was a
groan. The girl stared a moment in startled inquiry and then a smile
parted her lips, which was quickly repressed as in a quick glance she
noted the eyes heavily underlined with black paint, the brown dyed skin,
the red patched cheeks much besmeared with grease, and the black
snake-like strings of hair that straggled from beneath a derby hat,
several sizes too small for the head.
As the redskin strode with measured gait to the ladies, the painted lips
opened, and an excellent imitation of an Indian warwhoop broke forth
with startling intensity. Little Miss New York jumped nervously, Madame
New Amsterdam started back in surprise, but Mrs. Morrow and Nathalie
burst into laughter as they both cried, "Why--it's Edith!"
Yes, it was the Sport, who seeing she was the sensation of the moment
took off her derby hat and with a low bow to hostesses, in guttural tone
exclaimed, "No, me no Edith, me Indian squaw from Mana-ha-ta!"
This unexpected announcement created no little astonishment, and the
girls flocked around her with exclamations of wonder and surprise. As
they began to ply her with questions she cried triumphantly, "Ah, girls,
I fooled you that time, for I guess you had all forgotten about the
Indian women of Manhattan, who always wore their husband's hats."
"Oh, girls," cried Nathalie quickly, "the joke is on me, for I had
forgotten, as Edith says, all about these Indian squaws."
"Edith, it was clever of you to remember," now interposed the Governor's
lady, "and your get-up too, is very good." She gazed with keen eyes at
the girl's deerskin robe, fringed at the sides, with its embroidered
bodice, and the rows of colored beads that decorated her neck and her
brown bedaubed arms. "But Edith," she continued, "can't you tell us
something about these squaws?"
The girl looked somewhat dismayed for a moment; perhaps the sudden
recollection of the last time she had faced her companions, the shame
she had felt, and the punishment that had been meted out to her, caused
the flush that showed even beneath her paint and grease.
"Why--I--oh, I don't think there is much to tell," she faltered. But
encouraged by a nod from Mrs. Morrow she continued, "Lillie Bell lent me
Washington Irving's History of New York. It tells how Peter Minuit
purchased the island from the Indians--the Dutch people called them
Wilden--and where the bargain was made. It was close to a little block
house inside a palisade of red cedars very near the traders' hut in a
place called _Capsey_, the place of safe landing. Washington Irving
claimed that the name, 'Manhattan,' came from a tribe of Indians whose
squaws always wore their husband's hats, but I never knew that Indians
wore hats, so I suppose it is just one of his jokes."
There was a general laugh at Edith's sally, and then the girls broke
into loud applause. Perhaps they, too, were doing a little thinking and
were anxious to show Edith that the deeds of the past were forgotten in
her well-doing.
Annetje, after marshaling her forces, now led the girls through the
quaint Dutch room to show them the many relics of past days. The
wide-throated fireplace with its gay-colored tiles--still in a state of
good preservation--with their queer scriptural figures, each picture with
the number of the text in the Bible that told its story, awakened great
interest.
Mahogany tables, queer little sideboards, and curiously carved chairs
next claimed their attention, while the _slaap-bauck_, a funny little
closet built in the side walls of the room, its shelf covered with a
mattress, and with folding doors to open at night for a guest bed, won
special favor.
A flowered tabby cloth, a foot-warmer, and an old chest called a _kos_,
and which Nathalie declared was similar to the one that the industrious
Marie de Peyster had filled with linen, was regarded with much awe. A
nutwood case, a wardrobe called a _kasten_--filled with old Dutch
costumes, grimy and moth-eaten--divided honors with a beautiful old
cupboard with glass doors, displaying rare old blue and white Delft,
said to have come from Holland years and years ago.
But curios pall in time, and so the girls were not at all reluctant to
follow their hostesses into the quaint old kitchen, gayly decorated with
the orange and blue of the Dutch Republic. Here, many exclamations of
admiration escaped them when they saw the long table in the center of
the room, with its bloom of hyacinths, gillyflowers, narcissus,
daffodils, and tulips, all reminders of the little beau-pots that
adorned the window sills, or peeped from the flower patches in front of
the gable-roofed houses in the days of the first settlers.
Embowered in this floral display was a huge silver bowl hung with tiny
silver spoons. This was the caudle dish, the inseparable accompaniment
of feast gatherings or when the _kinder_ were christened. From the hot,
spicy odor that emanated from this relic of Dutch festivity the girls
knew it held something good.
But there was no more time to admire, for it was now discovered that a
flower was tied with daintily colored ribbon to the back of each chair.
Recognizing that they were intended for place-cards, the girls flew
hurriedly around the table trying to find the flower that matched the
one on the cards they had received from the windmill.
Mrs. Van Vorst, typifying the first Dutch settlement in the New World,
now cordially welcomed her guests with a few appropriate words. She was
followed by Nita, who, standing on the platform of her chair, recited a
greeting in Dutch--a little thing that Nathalie had taught her--with
quaint precision, while her eyes twinkled humorously.
The edibles were now served, the little serving-maid being Carol
assisted by Peter attired as a herdsman in low-heeled shoes, brass
buckles, gray stockings, and with a twisted cow's horn hanging from his
shoulder.
Roasted oysters served with hot split biscuits tempered with butter were
the first course. Then came salmon a la Hollandaise and patriotic crabs,
so called because the settlers declared that they were the color of the
flag of the Prince of Orange. Frankfurters now appeared, so deliciously
prepared that the Pioneers barely recognized their hike stand-by, served
with carrots and turnips garnished with parsley. Green salad now
followed with the caudle served from the silver bowl, each girl ladling
this particular Dutch dainty, piping hot, into her own china cup.
The goodies were jellies, custards, _oly krecks_--sometimes called
doughnuts because of the tiny nut in the center--krullers,
_izer-cookies_, or waffles, syllabubs, and many other toothsome sweets.
All of these viands were greatly enjoyed, not only because they were of
Dutch renown, but because they were eaten, as their Director declared in
memory of the _goede vrouven_ who helped their _goede_ men to lay the
first stones of the great city of New York.
Every one was at their merriest when Annetje Jans, who had suddenly
grown unduly restive, arose in her chair and holding her caudle cup high
proposed a toast to Madame New Amsterdam, Mrs. Van Vorst, their hostess!
Immediately glasses were touched to the lady so honored, who in return
proposed a like honor for Madame Stuyvesant, Mrs. Morrow, the Director
of the Girl Pioneers of America. Little Miss New York was now honored,
who, as she bowed in response to the loud clapping that followed her
name, passed the honor on to her friend, Miss Nathalie Page, in Dutch,
Madame Annetje Jans.
There was more applause in appreciation of Nita's tribute, although her
voice was low and tremulous with timidity at speaking before so many.
But when Nathalie rose on her feet to reply, the clapping grew so
vociferous that the color deepened her cheeks to a more vivid pink.
But she stood her ground, and as the teasing girls wearied of clapping
she spoke. There was a slight tremor in her voice, but she went steadily
on, and after expressing in the name of the Pioneers the great pleasure
it had given them to meet the daughter of their hostess, voiced their
desires in asking Miss Nita to join with them in their endeavors to
imitate the sterling qualities of the early pioneer women, and to become
a Girl Pioneer of America!