New York State History

The margin of the river, save a landing at the foot of State Street, was overhung with willows, and the picturesque little islands below the town were covered with foliage, and bordered by stately trees. Albany was indeed Dutch-the buildings were Dutch, the people were Dutch, the horses were Dutch, and all the dogs barked in Dutch. Every house having any pretension to dignity was placed with its gable end toward the street, and was surmounted by a rooster.

 The Dutch were not the most enterpris­ing or active people; most of them pos­sessing, by saving, snug fortunes, in their old age made use of their accumulations, and left their descendants to build up their own. There were none among them, however, very rich or very poor, learned or ignorant, rude or polished. Inter­course was so free that gossip was almost unknown. Every pleasant afternoon the worthy burgher took his pipe, and, seated in the Market-house, settled the affairs of the Colonie.

  When the Governor of the province, with others of rank, visited the town to hold conferences with the Six Nations, there were balls, parties, and ev­ery simple kind of amusement known. And then the Van Rensselaers, the Lansings, the Bogerts, the Schuylers, Wessels, Ten Broecks, Douws, Staats, Bleeckers, De Peysters, Gansevoorts, Ten Eycks, Cuylers, and other leading families, open­ed their hospitable doors. And speaking of doors reminds me of the brass knock­ers: why, modern bric-a-brac hunters would go into raptures over them.

In those unprecocious times the boys and girls did not grow to be men and wo­men so soon as they do now. It would have been highly out of place for them to have thought of falling in love before they were out of their teens, or before Catrina had spun her pile of linen, and Volckert had several hundred guilders laid aside.

The fashionable dress for ladies was a colored petticoat, rather short, waist jack­et, colored hose of homespun woollen, and high-heeled shoes. The Dutch gen­tlemen appeared in long-waisted coats, with skirts reaching to the ankles, and shoes adorned with large silver buckles, knee-breeches, and silk or woollen stock­ings, with cocked hats, or red - ringed worsted caps. But, more than this, they carried the turnip-shaped watch, with a heavy seal, the tobacco-box of embossed silver, on which was engraved the coat of arms surrounded by a scroll. In the pocket was the tongue-scrap­er, tooth, ear, and nail pick, the whole shut­ting within a guard or handle. The hair was worn in a queue, and was generally powder­ed, the front hair be­ing brushed straight down over the fore­head-a style now im­itated by young ladies.

The Dutch church, to which reference has already been made, was very small. It stood at the intersec­tion of State Street and Broadway, com­manding both streets, as a security against the Indians. The win­dows were high from the ground, as it was too far from Fort Orange to be protected by its guns, and hence must guard against a sudden attack. The men carried their arms to service, and sat in the gallery, in order to be able to fire from the windows. The more venerable were seated on a raised platform against the walls, and the women sat out of dan­ger's way in the centre.

This church was replaced by a new one in 1715, and tradition says the new church was built round the old; and while the former was building, service was held in the latter, and only interrupted for two Sabbaths. The new edifice was an exact counterpart of the old, except in size, and being of stone. There was the same general ar­rangement and separation of the sexes. But now the congregation was a wealth­ier one, and several of the windows bore family arms in colored glass. There were the Schuyler, Douw, Van Rensselaer, and others. Each window had a heavy wooden shutter, fastened with a latch, and was never opened except on Sunday. The roof was very steep, and surmounted by a belfry and weather-cock.

Dominie Westerlo was the loved preacher, and called "our Westerlo" by his flock. The first child baptized in this church was Elizabeth Vinhagen, who became the wife of Jonas Oothout, and the church bell tolled for the last time at her burial, she having died at the age of ninety-two. The church was demolished in 1806, and the materials used in the building of the Middle Dutch Church, on Beaver and Hudson streets. Many of the old families were buried under the church, and, as a special privilege, those who could pay for it were allowed burial under their seats.

"Whenever any one of them" (the pews) "is va­cated by death, it shall descend to the eldest son or daughter living in the county, next to a son-in-law, next to own brothers and sisters, the first occupant paying 30s. and his successor 15s. for transferring the same, in behalf of the Reformed Dutch Church in Albany."

"Every seat-holder shall be in honor bound to contribute to the minister's salary in proportion to his circumstances. No person living out of the comity is entitled to a seat. In default of a suc­cessor, seats are to revert to the church," etc.*