University of Virginia Library

4. CHAP IV.

In this dulcet period of my history, when the
beauteous island of Mannahata presented a scene,
the very counterpart of those glowing pictures drawn
by old Hesiod of the golden reign of Saturn, there
was a happy ignorance, an honest simplicity prevalent
among its inhabitants, which were I even able
to depict, would be but little understood by the degenerate
age for which I am doomed to write.
Even the female sex, those arch innovaters upon the
tranquillity, the honesty, and grey-beard customs of
society, seemed for a while to conduct themselves
with incredible sobriety and comeliness, and indeed
behaved almost as if they had not been sent into the
world, to bother mankind, baffle philosophy, and
confound the universe.

Their hair untortured by the abominations of art,
was scrupulously pomatomed back from their foreheads
with a candle, and covered with a little cap
of quilted calico, which fitted exactly to their heads.
Their petticoats of linsey woolsey, were striped with
a variety of gorgeous dyes, rivalling the many coloured
robes of Iris—though I must confess these

gallant garments were rather short, scarce reaching
below the knee; but then they made up in the
number, which generally equalled that of the gentlemen's
small clothes; and what is still more praise-worthy,
they were all of their own manufacture—of
which circumstance, as may well be supposed, they
were not a little vain.

These were the honest days, in which every
woman staid at home, read the bible and wore
pockets—aye, and that too of a goodly size, fashioned
with patch-work into many curious devices, and
ostentatiously worn on the outside. These in fact,
were convenient receptacles, where all good house-wives
carefully stored away such things as they
wished to have at hand; by which means they often
came to be incredibly crammed—and I remember
there was a story current when I was a boy, that
the lady of Wouter Van Twiller, having occasion
to empty her right pocket in search of a wooden
ladle, the contents filled three corn baskets, and the
utensil was at length discovered lying among some
rubbish in one corner—but we must not give too
much faith to all these stories; the anecdotes of
these remote periods being very subject to exaggeration.

Beside these notable pockets, they likewise wore
scissars and pincushions suspended from their
girdles by red ribbands, or among the more opulent
and shewy classes, by brass and even silver chains—

indubitable tokens of thrifty housewives and industrious
spinsters. I cannot say much in vindication
of the shortness of the petticoats; it doubtless was
introduced for the purpose of giving the stockings
a chance to be seen, which were generally of blue
worsted with magnificent red clocks—or perhaps
to display a well turned ankle, and a neat, though
serviceable foot; set off by a high-heel'd leathern
shoe, with a large and splendid silver buckle. Thus
we find, that the gentle sex in all ages, have shewn
the same disposition to infringe a little upon the
laws of decorum, in order to betray a lurking beauty,
or gratify an innocent love of finery.

From the sketch here given it will be seen, that
our good grandmothers differed considerably in
their ideas of a fine figure, from their scantily dressed
descendants of the present day. A fine lady, in
those times, waddled under more clothes even on
a fair summer's day, than would have clad the
whole bevy of a modern ball room. Nor were
they the less admired by the gentlemen in consequence
thereof. On the contrary, the greatness of
a lover's passion seemed to encrease in proportion
to the magnitude of its object—and a voluminous
damsel, arrayed in a dozen of petticoats, was declared
by a low-dutch sonnetteer of the province, to
be radiant as a sunflower, and luxuriant as a full
blown cabbage. Certain it is, that in those days,
the heart of a lover could not contain more than

one lady at a time; whereas the heart of a modern
gallant has often room enough to accommodate half
a dozen—The reason of which I conclude to be,
either that the hearts of the gentlemen have grown
larger, or the persons of the ladies smaller—this
however is a question for physiologists to determine.

But there was a secret charm in these petticoats,
which no doubt entered into the consideration of
the prudent gallant. The wardrobe of a lady was
in those days her only fortune; and she who had
a good stock of petticoats and stockings, was as
absolutely an heiress, as is a Kamschatka damsel
with a store of bear skins, or a Lapland belle with a
plenty of rein deer. The ladies therefore, were
very anxious to display these powerful attractions
to the greatest advantage; and the best rooms in
the house instead of being adorned with caricatures
of dame nature, in water colours and needle work,
were always hung round with abundance of home-spun
garments; the manufacture and property of
the females—a piece of laudable ostentation that
still prevails among the heiresses of our dutch
villages. Such were the beauteous belles of the
ancient city of New Amsterdam, rivalling in primæval
simplicity of manners, the renowned and
courtly dames, so loftily sung by Dan Homer—
who tells us that the princess Nausicaa, washed the
family linen, and the fair Penelope wove her own
petticoats.

The gentlemen in fact, who figured in the circles
of the gay world in these ancient times, corresponded
in most particulars, with the beauteous damsels
whose smiles they were ambitious to deserve.
True it is, their merits would make but a very inconsiderable
impression, upon the heart of a modern
fair; they neither drove in their curricles nor sported
their tandems, for as yet those gaudy vehicles
were not even dreamt of—neither did they distinguish
themselves by their brilliance at the table, and
their consequent rencoutres with watchmen, for our
forefathers were of too pacific a disposition to need
those guardians of the night, every soul throughout
the town being in full snore before nine o'clock.
Neither did they establish their claims by gentility
at the expense of their taylors—for as yet those
offenders against the pockets of society, and the
tranquillity of all aspiring young gentlemen, were
unknown in New Amsterdam; every good house-wife
made the clothes of her husband and family,
and even the goede vrouw of Van Twiller himself,
thought it no disparagement to cut out her husband's
linsey woolsey galligaskins.

Not but what there were some two or three
youngsters who manifested the first dawnings of
what is called fire and spirit. Who held all labour
in contempt; skulked about docks and market
places; loitered in the sun shine; squandered what
little money they could procure at hustle cap and

chuck farthing, swore, boxed, fought cocks, and
raced their neighbours' horses—in short who promised
to be the wonder, the talk and abomination of
the town, had not their stylish career been unfortunately
cut short, by an affair of honour with a
whipping post.

Far other, however, was the truly fashionable
gentleman of those days—his dress, which served
for both morning and evening, street and drawing
room, was a linsey woolsey coat, made perhaps by
the fair hands of the mistress of his affections, and
gallantly bedecked with abundance of large brass
buttons.—Half a score of breeches heightened the
proportions of his figure—his shoes were decorated
by enormous copper buckles—a low crowned
broad brimmed hat overshadowed his burley visage,
and his hair dangled down his back, in a prodigious
queue of eel skin.

Thus equipped, he would manfully sally forth
with pipe in mouth to besiege some fair damsel's obdurate
heart—not such a pipe, good reader, as that
which Acis did sweetly tune in praise of his Galatea,
but one of true delft manufacture and furnished
with a charge of fragrant Cow-pen tobacco. With
this would he resolutely set himself down before
the fortress, and rarely failed in the process of time
to smoke the fair enemy into a surrender, upon
honourable terms.

Such was the happy reign of Wouter Van

Twiller, celebrated in many a long forgotten song
as the real golden age, the rest being nothing but
counterfeit copper-washed coin. In that delightful
period, a sweet and holy calm reigned over the
whole province. The Burgomaster smoked his
pipe in peace—the substantial solace of his domestic
house, his well petticoated yffrouw, after her
daily cares were done, sat soberly at her door, with
arms crossed over her apron of snowy white, without
being insulted by ribald street walkers or vagabond
boys—those unlucky urchins, who do so infest
our streets, displaying under the roses of youth,
the thorns and briars of iniquity. Then it was that
the lover with ten breeches and the damsel with
petticoats of half a score indulged in all the innocent
endearments of virtuous love, without fear
and without reproach—for what had that virtue to
fear, which was defended by a shield of good
linsey woolseys, equal at least to the seven bull
hides of the invincible Ajax.

Thrice happy, and never to be forgotten age!
when every thing was better than it has ever been
since, or ever will be again—when Buttermilk
channel was quite dry at low water—when the
shad in the Hudson were all salmon, and when the
moon shone with a pure and resplendent whiteness,
instead of that melancholy yellow light, which is the
consequence of her sickening at the abominations
she every night witnesses in this degenerate city!