USA > New York > Kings County > Flatbush > The social history of Flatbush : and manners and customs of the Dutch settlers in Kings county > Part 23
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Of course there were long pipes in abundance for the old people, and doubtless the young people danced with brisk steps and not the languid, gliding measure of the present fashion. We are sure there were no round dances. Doubtless violins supplied the music by which they danced, and their negro slaves were the musicians. (N. B .- I do not give this bit of information as an historian ; it is only an inference from recollections of winter evening stories told by the dear old grand- mother.)
We are more certain of the dresses worn on the occasion, that is, if we do not go too far back into the past. The bride must be attired in a handsome satin petticoat, which formed the front of the overdress, which was of a different color. Knickerbockers, as now called, with knee buckles and shoe buckles and full dressy coats, such as we see in old pictures, was the costume of the men. The Dutch dominie probably wore the Geneva gown in officiating at the ceremony, and the
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THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF FLATBUSH.
Yeffrouw was an honored guest. As to a wedding journey, we are doubtful if they went very far when the greater part of New York State was a wilder- ness, and the savages pounced down upon any one who went beyond the boundaries of the colony. My dear young friends, who just take a summer vacation or a bridal trip to Europe, your great-grandmother rode on a pillion to the next town, or thought she had taken quite a journey if she went from New York to Esopus, Claverack, Saugerties, or Coxsackie. Or, if from Al- bany, she ventured as far as Schenectady.
On a funeral occasion the gathering was almost as large as at a wedding, for every friend of the deceased was expected to be present. Because many came from a distance there was a table spread for the friends. They smoked their long pipes, and, I am sorry to say, they drank Holland gin. In these matters we find an improvement in the present age. The coffins were plainer than the elaborate caskets now in use. There was a regular sermon preached, but no singing, and probably no service at the grave.
The pall-bearers were intimate friends of the de- ceased and as near as possible of the same age. To these pall-bearers were given black gloves, or black silk handkerchiefs ; sometimes, at the funeral of a prominent man, linen scarfs ; these were tied in a rosette bow on the shoulder and crossed under the opposite arm, as we sometimes see them on similar occasions now. In the old graveyards in the country around our Dutch churches we find the inscriptions in the Dutch lan- guage. They impress me as being solemn and dignified, far more so than the inflated epitaphs which we some- times read on old English tombstones.
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OUR DUTCH FOREFATHERS.
" In den Heere outslapen " (Sleeping in the Lord), they often say. Or we read, "Hier leyt begraven t' lighaam von (Here lies the body of) , geboren (date), (died) overleden (date)." In almost every instance you will see a desire to commemorate their belief in the immortality of the soul, so do their words emphasize the fact that it is only the body that rests below the sod. It is quite in contrast to the curt fashion in which we express it now-just a name with the dates of birth and death below it. There is a certain lingering over the inscriptions as our Dutch fathers wrote them, which is to me more touching. They seem to appeal to you, as they say tenderly, here we have buried the earthly frame of our dear one. She rests here. He rests here. They point us to heaven whence the soul had gone.
We may not infer that they had greater faith than we have, but they loved to allude to it on their tomb- stones. They recorded the fact that the dear one whom they had committed to the grave died in the precious belief of “ een salige opstandinge " (glorious resurrec- tion).
An old graveyard surrounding a church seems a more solemn resting place than amid the showy shafts of a modern cemetery. It seems right that where they were taught of immortality, there they should come to take their last sleep-there where the old church keeps guard over them. From the pulpit they were taught of life beyond the grave, and the inscriptions on the old brown headstones seem like a response to that teaching as they record the faith of those who sleep below in their quaint terms, hoping for " een salige opstandinge " (glorious resurrection).
CHAPTER XXXII.
MISS SALLY .*
" You had better go up in the garret this morning and pack away your furs in one of the long chests. I will send Betty up presently to help you."
Grandma's word was law to us children. I went reluctantly, but, reaching there, I was at once struck by the facilities afforded for rummaging. Grandma's was an old Dutch house, and of all the attics to which you may have access there are none so full of interest as those under the heavy roof of an old Dutch home- stead-a homestead in which members of the same family have lived and died for successive generations, entering them and leaving them through the portals of birth and death.
It was there on that stormy March day that I learned about Miss Sally. As children find a picture of a pretty girl by putting together the dissected pieces from their box of toy blocks, so I put together the bits of informa- tion I found that day, and thus formed the history of Miss Sally.
* Miss Sally is not an imaginary being. The bills here given and the list of articles purchased are in possession of the writer, and are given here in the hope that they may prove interesting to the young ladies of the present day, as showing the changes which one hundred years have wrought in the style of dress and requirements of fashionable society.
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MISS SALLY.
Under the eaves I found a heavy, iron-hinged box full of old papers; there were wills, indentures, and accounts on coarse, faded paper with jagged edges, much worm-eaten. I was about to withdraw my head from under the lid and let it drop down, when I was at- tracted by some writing. "Sally-inventory-estate- accounts."
My name was Sally. Was this some ancestress of mine ? The record was not in a good state of preserva- tion, but there was enough left complete to weave my little romance, enough blocks left to put together and form the picture of Miss Sally.
Here is her birthday, February 8, 1766. She is the youngest child in the family and only daughter. Her oldest brother is her guardian, or in some way seems to have the care of her accounts ; she is evidently an or- phan. Her mother must have been kind to the other children, for the oldest speaks of his stepmother as our " beloved mother Lammetia." How odd that name sounds now, but it was very common among the Dutch, and it has the same signification as the English name Agnes-a lamb. The Dutch use it in the diminutive- a little lamb.
I become interested in my treasure-trove and carry the worm-eaten account book to the oval window in the gable of the garret, and seating myself upon a decrepit spinning-wheel, through the medium of these faded pages I look back into the domestic life of more than a hundred years ago, careless of the cobwebs which catch in my hair and the stray wasp chasing angrily the splash of the rain-drops on the window pane.
The book opens with an inventory of the estate. How unlike our present belongings! Here is the enu-
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THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF FLATBUSH.
meration of the slaves : Brom, Cæsar, Cato, Dyne, Betty, Flora. They are valued at sums varying from £60 to £30 apiece ; the value of the cattle ; the standing grain ; the implements of agriculture and the household furni- ture are also given. Such a variety of brass kettles and andirons ; Dutch cupboards and chests; " engraved spoons" and rolls of homespun linen; pewter plates and pewter dishes ! " A ryding chair " is valued at £14. Did you go to drive in it, Miss Sally, on the King's highway ?
A silver tankard is valued at £22. Tankards were heirlooms, and were bequeathed to the oldest son. The number of feather beds, blankets, bed curtains, and woolen as well as linen sheets suggests days without stoves and furnaces, the water freezing at night in the sleeping room. The property left to Miss Sally and her brothers is all appraised here, and the list closes with the funeral expenses of the mother, Lammetia, £3 6s. 5d. Every item in this bill marks the change in the customs of the age. There are scarfs and black silk handker- chiefs; those were for the bearers. There are charges for pipes and tobacco, spirits and wine, bread, cheese, beef, etc. Paid the schoolmaster for attendance £1 12s. Od; that was the equivalent to sexton's and undertaker's fees, for it was the schoolmaster in that age who super- intended the digging of the grave and tolling of the church bell. There is an item £0 4s. 0d. for ferriage, which means that relatives were brought over from New York in row-boats across the Breuklyn ferry.
The estate can not be divided yet, Miss Sally not being of age.
She now goes to school. Her bill amounts to £4 48. 6d. ; she is charged for writing-paper and quills beside tuition.
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MISS SALLY.
For a page or two there is no mention of Miss Sally in the household expenses. She is probably acquiring a knowledge of the foreign languages-English, for ex- ample, for we see among the tax bills that at this time the schoolmaster was required to teach English as well as Dutch.
The accounts now indicate that Miss Sally begins to go out in company, for here is a bill which shows the price of " new gowns " in the last century :
S. S. d.
One silk gown. 6 15 0
" pair gloves. 0
5 9
" chintz gown 2 10 0
" pair shoes 0 11 0
" petticoat 2
8 3
There are bills paid to the shoemaker who came once a year to the house and made shoes for the whole family, including the slaves, but Miss Sally gets " store shoes." Here follows another bill :
£. s. d.
A silk gown.
8 0 0
Stuff for a cloak. 2 1 8
Cash for sundries. 7 9 4
I hope that Miss Sally has a skillful " mantua-maker!"
Here are more purchases : She has a muff and tippet at £9 0s. Od .; an umbrella, in the use of which she seems to be careless, for on the next page there is a bill for mending it, £1 0s. Od. I fear, Miss Sally, you are getting extravagant. Here is a bill for " a scarlet cloak," £4 10s. A bonnet with trimmings (?), £1 2s. 4d. ; a paper of pins, which at that period cost £0 2s. 6d. They had, of course, twisted wire heads, which were likely to come off; it is probable that Miss Sally never saw a solid-head pin. She
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THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF FLATBUSH.
also selected a "gauze cap." It must have been very becoming to tempt you to the expenditure of £2 8s. Sd., Miss Sally ! Did you cross to New York in a small boat to do your shopping in the fashionable part of the city, Maiden Lane ? Of course. Where else should you go ?
Meantime, in accordance with the industry of the age, Miss Sally has been spinning. The weaver sends in his bill " for weaving 108 ells of linen, £3 12s. Od." You doubtless made a pretty picture going to and fro beside the wheel. Did you sing to its buzzing accompaniment the Dutch spinning songs :
" Zoo rijden de Heeren, met de moije kleeren,
Zoo rijden de vrouwen, met de bonte mouwen, etc."
Of course I haven't got it quite right. It is old Dutch, as people speak of " old English." You in your century and I in mine, Miss Sally. People don't speak Dutch on Long Island now. Things have changed since your time.
Here is an item of interest : "Mother Lammetia " has commended to the care of the family a superannu- ated slave who must never be allowed to want, and Miss Sally pays her share of the support. She must have the most comfortable seat in the chimney corner, and her corncob pipe must be supplied with tobacco.
Now there are more purchases, as follows :
£. s. d.
A lutestring gown 6 3 0
A silk cloak. 8 0 0
A Barcelona handkerchief 0 8 0 A gauze cap. . 0 9 0
Two pairs shoes. 0 18 0
And still more chintz, silk, and calico gowns and calico short gowns.
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MISS SALLY.
Here it is stated that Miss Sally is allowed £4 0s. 0d. for pocket money ; she goes on a journey, a long, peril- ous journey to-Fishkill ! Probably she went to visit her relatives, the old settlers of Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow. Now I reach the end of Miss Sally's accounts. She is of age. The property is divided. The brothers sign their respective receipts, and so does she. But what is this ? She is no longer Miss Sally ; she is mar- ried. That going to Fishkill must have been her wed- ding journey !
I close the worm-eaten account book. The rain has been all the morning pattering on the roof, but now the sun breaks through as I sit thinking over the picture of the pretty girl at her spinning, young and happy, one hundred years ago ! There are steps on the garret stairs. " Is that you, Betty ?"
Betty wore a turban made of a Madras handker- chief. A chintz shawl is pinned across her breast, the corners held in place by the strings of her check apron.
" Betty, do you remember that pretty Miss Sally ? Her mother died when she was young ; her brother kept her accounts. It was ever and ever so long ago."
Yes, Betty remembered.
" She was ever so pretty. Wasn't she very lovely ?"
Betty seemed to be recalling past times, and answered slowly.
" Well, yes, when she was young; I don't know but that you favor her. Eyes as black as a sloe." Betty always speaks of dark eyes being " as black as a sloe." I thought for a long time it was some kind of animal, but she told me a sloe was a plum. That fruit, whatever it may have been, must have grown in abundance on Long Island in Betty's time.
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THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF FLATBUSH.
" Do tell me all you know about pretty Miss Sally. Who was she, Betty ? I wish I had seen her."
" She was your grandpa's half sister. You have seen her often. She used to come down from Esopus once a year to visit your grandma when you was a little bit of a girl."
" Why, Betty ! You don't mean old Aunt Sally, that ugly wrinkled old woman, without a tooth in her head, who wore a false front of rusty reddish hair, and who took snuff ?"
Betty nodded, but secing the tears of disappointment coming to my eyes she patted me on the shoulder in her kind, loving way and tried to comfort me.
" She was real pretty once. Pretty as you are now. Eyes as black as-"
" O Betty, don't. I don't want to hear any more. You've spoiled it all. Let's go down stairs. Put back the spinning-wheel. Move this iron-clasped chest back under the caves. I don't care about the old account book now !"
" What'll yer grandma say about the furs ?"
I had forgotten the furs. I was young ; this was my first object lesson on the relentless laws of Nature. It was in vain that Betty paused in shaking out the muff to assure me that Miss Sally was once beautiful, eyes black as a sloe. That only made it the worse. I was angry at Miss Sally for getting old and ugly. She had spoiled my pretty picture. I went to my own room and made myself miserable by crying, because I lived in a world where it is a natural law to grow old and fade and die. I might myself, some day, be like Aunt Sally.
I was young then ; afterward I learned of a higher
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MISS SALLY.
than mere physical beauty. I learned it from old Betty, the descendant of " Mother Lammetia's " faithful slave. When her wrinkled hands that had so willingly minis- tered to others were folded in death, when her lips that had ever spoken loving words were forever closed, grandma, leaning over her coffin, said with tears: “ All her life she has been so faithful to me and mine that there have been times when her face has seemed to me in my troubles like the face of an angel."
Then I understood the higher beauty and sweetness that is expressed on the countenance of a Christian, and I learned a higher and a pleasanter lesson than had come to me through the faded beauty of Miss Sally.
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CHAPTER XXXIII.
REST AFTER STRIFE .*
IN time of war every day is not one of conflict and contending forces. The horrors of the battle field and the shock of opposing arms is not constantly presented, even in times of bitterest animosity and strife.
There come days and weeks and months of quiet between, when the sky is unclouded by the smoke of cannon, and Nature looks on as sweetly unmoved as if no shock had been felt and no discordant echo had ever startled her hills and valleys. The flowers bloom, the grain fields ripen, and Nature betrays no knowledge that she has seen the contest, except that she tries to hide the battle field under a new growth of green and to cover with new grass the freshly-made graves of the soldiers. The birds sing, and the twitter of daily life goes on as usual. Men and women take up the custom- ary burdens they have borne, and march on as before to the ticking of the clock which measures their lives and tells the passing of time which never pauses, be the days bright or gloomy.
We propose, just now, to imitate Nature in this, and to tell you of what happened in time of war, and yet is
* This article was written for and read at a meeting of the Daughters of the Revolution. As the event related took place in Flatbush, and at the period frequently referred to in this his- tory, we think it claims a place among other events recorded here.
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REST AFTER STRIFE.
not of war nor of conflict of any kind, but is about the merry doings of young people, like yourselves, and the sounds of mirth and laughter which come so readily to youth because they can not take in the cares which shall be theirs in later life, nor realize that sorrows are await- ing them in future which may come to them all too soon.
I think you will in your innermost hearts respond to this little episode, because young people like to hear something new about those in whom they take interest, and you do take interest in these young people, for they are your brothers and sisters-stay, I am a century behind time-they are your grandfathers and grand- mothers. Besides, we think that a keynote of joy will please you even in time of war, for although it is not wholly true, yet there is a great deal of truth in the little song that tells us :
" Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep, and you weep alone, For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth, It has troubles enough of its own.
"Sing and the hills will answer, Sigh, it is lost in the air, The echoes bound to a joyful sound But shrink from voicing care.
" Rejoice, and men will seek you, Grieve, and they turn and go, They want full measure for all your pleasure, But do not want your woe."
Said a bright child to me, " I s'pose you were born before Fourth er July, 1776 !"
" Why ?"
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THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF FLATBUSHI.
"'Cause I don't see these things in my history book. Are your stories about the war all true ? "
" All true," I replied, and then I tried to explain how these things were told at the fireside by those who had taken part in them, and how distinctly they were borne in mind because they were told in the most im- pressable time of a child's life.
So you may ask of me as the child did, Are your stories of the war all true ? and I reply emphatically, " They are all true !"
And now to my story.
There were many prisoners on parole in this (Kings) county during the early part of the War of the Revolu- tion. I am unable to give the exact date of their being here, or the extent of their parole, or the limits within which they were confined.
It is needless to say that time hung heavily on their hands. How could it be otherwise ? There were few books comparatively, and few newspapers. "The New York Gazette and Weekly Mercury," published by Hugh Gaine, printer, bookseller, and stationer in Han- over Square, might be obtained from time to time, or " Rivington's New York Gazetteer," or the " Connecti- cut, New Jersey, Hudson's River, and Quebec Weekly Advertiser."
Or sometimes there was an odd number left of the " New York Journal," printed by John Holt, near the " Coffee House," and these papers were passed from hand to hand and read and re-read, and yet the time hung heavily on the hands of those who were accus- tomed to work and now had nothing to do. It was well that the sound principles taught by the old Dutch do- minies were so deeply imprinted that Satan, who ever
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REST AFTER STRIFE.
finds work for idle hands to do, could not surprise these many idle hands into doing work for him.
On one cold midwinter day a happy thought came into the mind of a young officer, and found immediate acceptance with those to whom he communicated it.
The beautiful fields that they had roamed through all the summer, the woods in which they had gathered walnuts, butternuts, hickory nuts, and chestnuts, were now all draped in pure white snow. Icicles were pen- dent everywhere, and snow and ice wrapped everything in lines of beauty. The outlines of the fields were indis- tinguishable save where the surface drainage had made long ponds, and here on these shallow bits of ice the little children were at play, sliding on the glittering surface or dragging their little sleds across the frozen snow.
This gave to the young officer the happy suggestion on which he at once acted. Why not have a carnival upon the ice ?
On the northeastern portion of the Lefferts farm there was a large pond. At the settlement of the coun- try it had been formed by using the strata of clay for the manufacturing of bricks. It was known by its Dutch name, the Steenbakerie or Stone Bakery. It offered the irresistible attraction of several acres of clear, smooth, pure ice.
The young officers went to the woods near by and cut down a tree. This they planted in the middle of the pond, leaving about four feet of it extending above the surface of the ice. At right angles to this they fastened the rest of the main body of the tree with an iron bolt, as I understood it, which would revolve very rapidly when moved by some one standing close to it. On to this
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THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF FLATBUSH.
crosspiece there were attached many little sleds with ropes of various lengths, and when one was stationed in the center to turn this crosspiece, the velocity with which all these sleds were whirled round and round the pond was very great. It was a sort of winter merry-go- round, and to this all the young people far and near were invited. Of course they all accepted the invita- tion and went, and a right merry time they had. The rotary motion communicated by the revolving piece to which the little sleds were attached was exhilarating. It might be accelerated at the will of the party who controlled the crosspiece, and there is no reason to doubt that the motion was retarded.
I can see them now-can not you ? The rosy cheeked Dutch girls from the village, their young friends and brothers ; the prisoner officers, and perhaps one older person here and there to look on and see the fun ! I can just imagine how they looked each one clinging closely to his or her sled, shouting as they passed each other, shrieking as at times a sled was upset, laughing as each recognized the other in the swift whirl.
Perhaps on some of the sleds there were two persons- all the more fun for the two-but tradition does not tell us that ; sometimes they went so swiftly as to be almost lifted from the ice; round and round they flew, happy in their innocent merriment and enjoying it all, as only young people can. They kept it up through all the full moon, and even until the warmer breath of spring be- gan to weaken the ice. They were loath to leave it. The clear air was so invigorating, the motion so exhilarating, the companionship so delightful. Neither history nor tradition ventures to hint, but I myself think that there is not much risk in stating that some of the wed-
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REST AFTER STRIFE.
dings which came off after the war might have been traced to the meetings on those moonlight nights in the frolics of the young people on the ice pond.
I went past that spot quite recently. The dump cart of the city contractor was trying to fill up the pond, but there is a portion of it still left. The trolley cars of the Nostrand Avenue line pass it daily as they turn into Malbone Street to reach the entrance to Prospect Park.
If you go that way look across the Lefferts farm for what is still left of the old pond, and as you do so, recall the picture it presented one hundred years ago of the American prisoners on parole and the young and pretty Dutch maidens snatching a short season of pleasure amid the uncertainties of war, and unconscious of the fate that might be awaiting them before the war should be brought to its close.
The moon passing over may find a small portion of it even yet, but the city is creeping up to obliterate what is left of it just as surely as the green grass has covered from sight the soldiers' graves, which were then fresh, and forever effaced the lines of the battle field which then could be traced.
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APPENDIX.
[To give the younger readers of this volume some idea of home life in the village during the War of the Revolution, we append a fireside account of that period as it was told us by an aged lady who was in her sixteenth year when the incidents occurred which she related. She was a woman of great per- sonal courage and of remarkable intelligence, and we can vouch for this as being an unembellished account of what she herself saw and did; and therefore it has the merit of being strictly true. She died some forty years ago, being at that time in full possession of all her faculties, although more than eighty years of age.]
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