THE settlement, or “colonie,” near Fort Orange, was at first named from the shape of the land at the riverbank, the Dutch word meaning hoop-net, and the old neighborhood in Albany is still so called.
Later, this gave way to Beverwijk, or Beaver Town, from the plenteousness of beaver skins seen in the trade with the Indians, though there is a town in North Holland, not far from Amsterdam, also named Beverwijk. Ultimately, when the settlement flourished under Arendt van Curler, it was very properly called Rensselaerwijk.
“Heroes are made early.” The coming of Arendt van Curler opened a new chapter in the history of the Patroon’s colony. He was seventeen years old when he crossed the Atlantic, in December, 1637.
The van Curler estate near Putten in Guelderland, not far from Nijkerk, is mentioned in the list of property owners made in 1313. Gosen van Curler was the schout, or sheriff, of Nijkerk, in 1593. In the Book of Baptisms of the Reformed Church (1593-1620) is the record that on the 29th of August, 1594, “Gosen Corler’s and Gertgen Boldewin’s child was baptized and named Henrick.” This Henrick was the father of Arendt van Curler, who was baptized February 6, 1620. In 1637 he went to New Netherland, first as assistant to the schout at Rensselaerwijk, but later was made commissary or superintendent. He made a success of the drooping settlement, which ultimately became Albany, and later, in 1661, he founded Schenectady. His name lives immortal not only on the landscape of New York, but in the title bestowed by the Iroquois on the Governor of the Empire State and the King of Great Britain. Other records at Nijkerk tell of both Arendt and Jacobus van Curler. The old van Curler homestead, “Corlaar,” made modern in appearance, still stands amid flowers and canals.
Van Curler was one of the first men to perceive the true humanity of the native American and to realize his value. The Indians were so very numerous all around, that it would have been easy for them to combine and overwhelm the new settlement, but van Curler, besides being a noble character, had learned experience from the folly of the Manhattan rulers. Studying into causes which made Indian wars in Virginia and New England so disastrous, and being a Christian of the right sort, as well as a believer that the continent was big enough for both its first inhabitants and the newcomers, he renewed with the Iroquois, but with solemn and imposing ceremonies, the league of peace. “The covenant of Corlaer” was always referred to by the Indians as “the Silver Chain of Friendship.”
Van Curler knew the French also, and understood how well suited the Latin races were for gaining influence and control through their alliance with the Indians. Be foresaw the coming struggle between those two types of civilization, the Latin and the Anglo-Saxon (the Angles and Saxons were Dutch before they were English), and he determined to keep friendship inviolable with the red man.
Faithful to his trust as agent of the Patroon, van Curler sometimes found matters of duty disagreeable. The rules of the Company forbade free trade in “the bush” or open forest, and in carrying out the Patroon’s orders, he came into collision with Adrian van der Donck, the first lawyer in New Netherland. “Every peasant was a trader,” as de Vries had noticed, and the Patroon’s right of monopoly must be maintained and enforced. This brought on a struggle. The “bos-lopers,” wood runners, or irregular forest traders, in protest, put their names to a paper in a circle, so that it should not be known who had first signed the “round robin.” Thus the ringleader was anonymous. They employed the young lawyer, van der Donck, then the only one in New Netherland, as their advocate; but they failed, because the Patroon had his rights of monopoly confirmed by charter. Showing this document, van Curler gained his point and regained his popularity. Even during the time of Kieft’s war, van Curler’s firm hand in the colony and unbounded influence with the Five Nations were like a wall of fire guarding the prosperity of the colony.
The social life of the future capital city began around and centred in the congregation, when in 1643 a church neighborhood, or parish, was created by van Curler, the commissary, and Megapolensis. The Domine at once began the study of the Mohawk dialect, which, belonging to the Iroquois family of languages, wits very different from the Mohican speech. It was hard work at first, but Virtus vim vicit, as the arms of Haarlem have it. Intellect overcame the brute force of inertia. In time he was able to preach to the savages, and won not a few of them to such a measure of Christianity as they could receive. In the ease of the children taken young and steadily taught, he was very successful.
The scholarly man from civilization in a world of wild men was amused at what he saw. Until about twelve, the copper-colored little folks wore only Nature’s covering. In summer their elders followed suit, literally. The Indians’ skin was so hardened to the elements, that the ordinary house diseases of the white man were unknown to them. In winter they wore clothes taken directly off the deer and bear. Moccasins and leggings were of buckskin, but the natives plaited corn leaves together, making a rustling suit of clothes that seemed odd indeed. They painted their faces red or blue, “making themselves look like the devil.” When they bought coarse duffel, or frieze, similar to our Ulster cloth, they were very proud of the woven stuff, thinking it very fine. The squaws outdid the Dutch maids and mothers in dressing their hair, and the styles of their headgear were sometimes astonishing. They used bear’s grease on their tresses, and smeared it over their bodies to keep away parasites. The men hunted, fished, and fought. The hoe and the cradle were beneath them. The women did all the work at the fire and in the field, yet were able to bring forth their children without ceasing their toil for more than a few minutes. The newborn babes were washed in the cold river, or even in the snow. According to the Domine’s notion, marriage was unknown among the savages.
The “Wilden” were great eaters. Carrying their kettles, dried corn, and wooden bowls and spoons with them, they cooked a meal whenever it suited them. After taking prisoners they tortured them, making them dance and sing. Sometimes they roasted and ate their prizes. In war they usually spared the children and the women, unless the latter were very old. In pain and disease they thought the devil was biting them. Indeed, the wild men were almost as diligent as some Christians are in attributing all things undelightful to “the devil.” Him they considered to be a very industrious person. At first the Domine thought savages entire strangers to all “religion.” This was because they laughed at the Dutchmen when praying. Learning what was being done in church, they were much impressed. Until they understood what worship in the Christian way meant, it was all very comical to them, but they were too polite to make any disturbance when invited into the pews. They came with long pipes in their mouths, smoking tobacco, as at their own pow-wows. They were very much put out to find that they must not answer the Domine when he was talking. They innocently asked what he wanted, that he stood and talked so much when no one else spoke a word.
Part of the regular morning worship, according to the Netherlands liturgy, was the reading of the Ten Commandments. The Domine told them that he was admonishing the Christians not to do any wrong, not to steal, murder, commit adultery, or even to drink to drunkenness. He said also that the Mohawks ought not to do these things, and he promised when he knew the language better to go into their country and teach them. The Indians, genuine Pharisees of their own kind, asked why the white men did such naughty things. They had a great opinion of themselves, and considered themselves very smart. Their common name for the Dutchmen was “cloth-makers,” or “ironworkers,” because they could weave and had metal tools.
Arendt van Curler, ever busy in developing the manor, remained in the service of the Patroon until the death of the latter. With his bride, Antonia Slaghboom, who may have been the widow of Jonas Bronk, he visited his native country and Nijkerk in 1644. He had made Rensselaerwijk a success. His name is fitly inscribed in the cathedral in the capital city of the Empire State, as one of its founders.
There were three van Curlers in the colony, the second, on Manhattan Island, being Anthony, the trumpeter. In the records of Nijkerk we do not find his name. He was probably not of kin to the worthy church masters, town officers, and the cultured and benevolent folk in Guelderland. Yet in the mythology of New Netherland his figure is unique and colossal. He stands in popular notion next to Peter Stuyvesant. His place in the written record, however, occupies less than five lines. At an outdoor dinner in the fort given to the departing de Vries and his crew, after their Delaware venture, Anthony sounded a blast. Two petty officers of the company, one a storekeeper of the fort and the other of the ship, for some reason, scolded the trumpeter roundly. Thereupon van Curler gave them a thrashing, and in vengeful mood they ran home for their swords. After pouring out their wrath at the Director’s house and sleeping over the matter, they concluded not to fight. In the morning, “they feared the trumpeter more than they sought him.” This is all that history tells of the renowned Anthony, who in legend is a veritable Brocken spectre, his nose a mountain, his power to break maidens’ hearts unmeasured, and his determination invincible; yes, Spuyten Duyvil, that is, in spite of the devil.
Jacobus van Curler of Nijkerk, cousin of Arendt, on his return from Connecticut, whither he had been sent by van Twiller, bought land on Manhattan from four Indian chiefs at the place fronting the East River, since famous as Corlaer’s Hook, near the end of Grand Sheet. He became a member of the Governor’s Council, and was later a schoolmaster and a property owner on Long Island. He was ever a friend of the Indians and a useful citizen of high character. He was one of the most prominent and influential men in the development of Long Island, — whose detailed history we cannot even glance at. He remained in New Netherland until he was sixty years old, and then returned to Nijkerk. His is one of time names that adorn the annals of New Netherland.