Jacob My Friend: His 17Th Century Account of the Susquehannock Indians

By Barry C. Kent

Jacob My Friend is an unusual name, but this very real person was a most unusual character. Arriving in the New World from Holland before 1650, he became a fur trader with the Susquehannock Indians. He married one of them and had several children. Soon he was a trusted interpreter for the Susquehannocks in their difficult dealings with the Dutch and English.
Many of Jacobs exciting and often dangerous activities involving the Indians are recorded in contemporary accounts. Clearly he experienced the ordinary, but often strange events of their daily lives. He was also witness to the disastrous clash between the Indians and Europeans. Through his unique journal, Jacob helps us to see the forgotten history and very different culture of the Susquehannocks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 24, 2004
• ISBN: 9781465330352

Barry C. Kent

Barry C. Kent received a Ph. D. in anthropology from Penn State University in 1970. He was formerly the State Archaeologist with the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission. Much of his archaeological research involved the Susquehannock Indians and that work resulted in the publication of Susquehanna’s Indians. The current book is, in effect, a popularized version of this earlier work. Since retirement he has pursued an interest in colonial life and architecture, has been a lecturer for the Pennsylvania Humanities Council, an archaeological and exhibit consultant, and occasional adjunct professor of anthropology at York College of Pennsylvania.

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JACOB MY FRIEND

His 17th Century Account of the Susquehannock Indians

Copyright © 2004 by Barry C. Kent.

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Contents

PREFACE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

ENDNOTES

BIBLIOGRAPHY

PREFACE

Many people, especially in the Middle Atlantic

Region, have heard of the Susquehannock Indians. However, only the historic name and general area of their 17th century habitation are widely known.

A smattering of contemporary accounts, about twenty seasons of archaeology, hundreds of storage pits, thousands of artifacts, and tens of thousands of postmolds, comprise our source of knowledge concerning the Susquehannocks.

Postmolds and storage pits are discolorations in the subsoil. These archaeological features result from the aboriginal creation of small sockets for the insertion of wooden construction posts; or the digging of larger holes for storage or disposal. Through careful excavation and mapping, postmolds may reveal the outlines of houses, palisades or other structures. Storage pits often contain garbage—artifacts, for the archaeologist.

Analysis of historical accounts, artifacts and features provides a glimpse at the size and nature of ancient villages and general way of life for the occupants. Dateable European trade objects can often be used to determine the sequence of separate villages and certain changes in the material things (artifacts) lost or discarded in those places.

Historical research regarding the Susquehannocks commenced early in the last century. Serious archaeology at their sites in the Susquehanna Valley began in 1930 and continued intermittently until the present.

Much of that archaeology was conducted by the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission. I had the good fortune to direct or be involved in most of the work accomplished between 1966 and 1999. Those were exciting times and considerable new information about Susquehannock culture and history was uncovered and published.

Then, as now, I had the nagging realization that only a fragment of their way of life could ever be discerned. For example, we had learned how they made their pots, stone tools and ornaments. It was now possible to say where and when most of the Susquehannock towns were located, together with the size and approximate number of their houses. Likewise, we came to understand the terrible consequences of their contact with Europeans. But harsh encounters, pottery, stone artifacts, guns, glass beads, houses and villages comprise only part of a culture. Missing is any real picture of what it was like to be a Susquehannock in that distant and very different past.

While undertaking excavation, laboratory studies, or historical research, I frequently found myself trying to imagine the larger fabric of their existence, as well as that of the Europeans and other Indians with whom they were interacting. Occasionally, I would dream about the story of their lives. For the longest time, it seemed those dreams would go unresolved.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book is dedicated to my mother, Virginia Louise

Kent. She read and re-read the manuscript and provided important criticism, editorial improvements, constant encouragement and other valuable assistance.

Over the years I have had many discussions with friends and colleagues, especially at the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission (PHMC), concerning the archaeology and history of the Susquehannocks. All of these shared ideas are germane to the present work and for which I am most grateful. Jim Herbstritt, has been extremely helpful in this regard. Among other important things, Steve Warfel has kindly made available access to the collections and library of the Section of Archaeology in the State Museum of Pennsylvania at the PHMC. Matthew Harris produced greatly improved versions of the maps.

Biographer and genealogist Peter Craig has generously shared his extensive research and notes on Jacob My Friend. These have been an invaluable guide in my own efforts to follow Jacob through the historical documents. I hasten to add that Peter is in no way party to my fictionalizing the character or activities of Jacob My Friend.

Charles Gehring of the New Netherlands Project at the State Library of New York in Albany has kindly given permission for me to use those passages copied and cited in the present work, which appear in his book: New York Historical Manuscripts:Dutch. Delaware Papers, 1981.

A vast majority of the historic documents involving the Susquehannocks and Jacob My Friend are preserved in the important Archives of Maryland. Without these the present work would not have been possible.

Long time friend John Bracher read the manuscript several times and offered numerous useful comments. Over the years we have had many conversations regarding the history, and military and other accouterments of the period.

My wife Betsy, and daughter Kris Kent provided some often needed encouragements. Sue Shannon gave me a computer and got me started in its use for this project. Unfortunately I introduced many formatting problems. Scott Wenning of Wennawoods Publications at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania graciously struggled with improvements to the manuscript and corrections of my formatting and other errors.

Artist Denny Burkhart painted the cover illustration. He listened patiently to the archaeological evidence and my imagination concerning the appearance of the Susquehannock village of about 1650. The view is to the west as Jacob might have seen it from the hill overlooking the town, with the Susquehanna River and Long Level in the background.

Finally, I gratefully acknowledge the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission for its long-standing support of Susquehannock research and archaeological fieldwork, and especially that undertaken during the period of my employment from 1966 to 1986.

INTRODUCTION

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Susquehannock from John Smith’s map of 1612

By the beginning of the seventeenth century only a

handful of Europeans had seen the lower reaches of the areas now called the Hudson and Delaware rivers and the Chesapeake Bay. Spanish, Basque, French, English and Dutch fishermen and explorers were the first to come.

Living at that time, within the combined area drained by these rivers and the bay, were perhaps a hundred thousand native peoples known as Indians. Europeans were wont to call foreign peoples by peculiar terms rather than use their real names. For example, as the Europeans eventually encountered these natives, Ho-de-no-sau-nee became the Iroquois, Lenni-Lenape the Delaware, Piscataway eventually the Conoy, and so on.

The first European settlement of this region, which lasted, was established by the English in 1607 at Jamestown, Virginia. From there Captain John Smith embarked on an exciting voyage of discovery about the Chesapeake Bay in 1608. When his expedition reached the head of the bay in August of that year he encountered, what he labeled on his map: the Sasqusahanough Flu or River. Near the mouth of the river he met 60 warriors, whom he called Sasquesahanougs. In his published account he wrote: . . . such great and well proportioned men are seldome seene, for they seemed like Giants to the English, yea and to their neighbours… for their language it may well beseeme their proportions, sounding from them, as a voyce in a vault.¹ Smith goes on to describe the attire and appearance of these giants and says: . . . the picture of the greatest of them is signified in the… upper right corner of his map of 1612.

Eventually these became Susquehannocks, another misnomer, but one which has endured in history and local place names.

The Jamestown settlement and Smith’s adventures pretty much mark the beginning of history as we know it in this region. Other Europeans soon followed. English Pilgrims landed at Plymouth (Massachusetts) in 1620; the Dutch occupied Manhattan (New York) and Fort Nassau (on the Delaware River in New Jersey) by 1626. Swedes began to compete with the Dutch on the Delaware in 1638. In Virginia, then Maryland, and in New England, ever more English continued to arrive.

Reasons for settlement were varied: commercial, religious and/or agrarian. Much of it involved trade with the Indians for valuable furs. Soon, just the lure of new land upon which to settle was reason enough for coming. And come they did—at the expense of the Indians.

Wherever and for whatever reasons Europeans intruded upon the New World, the effect upon native communities was the same. It was characterized by a rapid deterioration of their way of life and decimation of population, often to the point of extinction. In the area of present concern: the Hudson, Delaware, and Susquehanna rivers and Chesapeake Bay drainages, native populations had declined 80 percent or more by the beginning of the 18th century. In 1700, there were only about a hundred Susquehannocks, and after 1763 virtually none. Curiously, by then they were being referred to as Conestogas, which is fairly close to what they called themselves.

This book is primarily an account of the 17th century Susquehannock-Conestoga way of life, how it changed and its approach to extinction. But the story cannot be told without relating their involvement with the Europeans and other Indians throughout the Middle Atlantic Region. Furthermore, it attempts to contrast European and native technology, society and ideology in an effort to explain the disastrous results of this culture contact.

Those were harsh times: full of adventure, excitement, misery, hatred, greed and misunderstanding. That much is very clear from the contemporary accounts, which we now call their history. These written documents, when combined with archaeological research into the places and artifacts of those people, give us a very general outline of what life was like. Indeed, researchers are limited to the so-called facts—those which can be documented or more or less proven. Unfortunately, this results in only a bare-bones, usually dry, academic picture of what occurred. A genuinely full rendition of the people—their hardships and happiness, their day-to-day lives and the impact of encounters with others—is usually beyond the scope of history or archaeology. Canons of ethics, which govern the interpretations by such scholars, require that they not exceed the bounds of their data. Consequently, anyone who wants to visualize more about what took place—what life was really like—is usually forced to impose his own interpretations on the bare facts. Moviemakers of necessity do this, and so do fiction writers. Would that there might be someone to realistically fill in around government and other meager documents and the archaeology of Susquehannock culture to make it a brighter picture.

Fortunately, there was such a person: a 17th century Dutch trader and adventurer by the name of Jacob Claesen, alias Jacob Young. Curiously, he also called himself "Jacob My Friend." He actually lived with the Susquehannocks, learned their language and culture, married one of them and had children. Jacob became a great friend and would-be protector of the entire nation of Susquehannocks. Along the way, he frequently served as their interpreter with the English of Maryland and the Dutch of New Netherlands. By it all, he fell into life-threatening difficulties with the colonial officials for his presumed treasonous favor of the Susquehannocks.

There is no more real, nor probable person to relate the full story of the Susquehannocks and the Europeans, and other Indians with whom they were involved. Jacob My Friend is not limited in his interpretation by any canons. Thus, through his unique journal and narrative, Jacob can help us envision the houses, palisades, foods and all the material things which an archaeologist might only see as dim postmold features or fragmentary excavated artifacts. He also attempts to bring to life the myths, social customs and religion of these people, which the ethnohistorian can only infer through the most cautious analogy. Moreover, because he was a contemporary witness (and something of a rogue) Jacob can render his own vivid explanation of European political, economic, social and religious events in those times to show how they affected the Indians.

For historians, a really juicy contemporary account is just as exciting as a major artifact excavated by an archaeologist. Some written records are veritable treasure maps and analyzing them is like being there. In order that the reader might enjoy some of the excitement, I have had Jacob include in his journal a number of the actual and most fascinating accounts. These are, by and large, official Dutch or English documents relating to him and the Susquehannocks. For the most part, they are reproduced here with the original, often antique, punctuation and spelling. In addition, Jacob transcribes some of the horrible Maryland court proceedings and accusations against him resulting from his alleged treason. These quotes are identified with endnotes. For the reader who may not find them quite so exciting they can be skipped over like any reference or footnote. Besides, Jacob always provides his own brief interpretation. He does so in the same language of the contemporary documents—that is to say, in the often quaint, flowery and sometimes quirky syntax and grammar of 17th century English.

Most of the characters with whom Jacob eventually had an involvement in the Chesapeake and Delaware Bay areas, were real persons and I have used their actual names. Some of the events in which they participated are embellished upon. History has vilified a few of these individuals. However, in the present work no calumniation beyond the bounds of historical fiction is intended.

To any concerned scholars, I note that Jacob’s personalized account of Indians and Europeans is rooted in history, archaeology and ethnography. His journal, which weaves the documented material together, is imaginary. Again, those who wish to unravel fact from fiction are directed to the endnotes.

Much of Jacob’s experience in the New World, as it is told here, involves his struggle to understand the Susquehannock way of life. Many of the historic documents, in which his name appears, imply that he was an unusually compassionate observer. Unquestionably, he became their trusted go-between with the English and Dutch. However, like any anthropologist, historian, or traveler in a foreign land, his efforts to know them were often blinded by his own culture. To help explain this, we begin with a tale of Jacob’s European origins and his reasons for venturing into an exciting but dangerous New World.

CHAPTER ONE

Image8384.JPG

Bartmannkrug.

Travelers soon forgot the fresh summer air of the

countryside as contrasted with the ripe aromas of Amsterdam. And so it was for the hurried young man. Carelessly turning the corner of the Delft road, he crashed head-on into a filthy old woman carrying two full chamber pots for deposit in the canal. Both stoneware vessels exploded on the brick pavement, splashing their vile contents on the lad’s square-toed shoes and gray stockings.

Damn thee old hag and thy wretched work!

The woman’s retort was as awful as her appearance. To get away from her he side-stepped to the edge of the canal. But before he could take more than a few steps she hurled a shard of the pottery, striking him square on the back of his brown waistcoat.

"Thou owest eight stuivers against me master’s shit pots!" she yelled after him.

"I’ll subtract them from the guilder ’twill cost to make clean my shoes and stockings. Next time, throw thy master’s waste in his privy pit. Hast thou forgotten the double fine the magistrate would extract of thee for having so soiled my clothes?"

"And didst thou no hear me say garde à l’eau? Ha! ’Twill clear me! Fleeing, she yelled with screeching laughter, shit in your hat and wear’t."

My arse on thy head, wretched old rum-and-rut, he called after her.

Continuing on his way, the city’s mixed smells of smoke, cooking oil, fish, tanning vats, tobacco, stale beer and the bittersweet from thousands of privies were now overly apparent to him. Just ahead, a well-dressed burgher staggered from a tavern door and vomited on the bricks. Although the street was crowded, no one seemed to notice. Our traveler knew that soon enough, someone would be out on the street with soaking lye, scrubbing away the burgher’s lunch, as well as the slops wrought by his collision with the old sow.

What amazing contrasts this great city seemed to present. There was a constant chiming of bells, and the hum of countless voices, all afloat with foul odors arising from the scummy surface of canals. In many places, not ten feet from the moldy canal walls, were ornate brick and timber house fronts of wealthy business folk, with their spotless interiors and window boxes of brightly colored tulips. Most cities of the Netherlands were that way. Unlike other countries, it was customary to keep both house and surroundings in an unusual state of cleanliness. Or at least many Hollanders did.

Was it odd, he wondered, that seventeenth century Amsterdam should be home to some of the richest people in all of Christendom, as well as to some of the poorest? Human beings of all nations, even outside Christendom, crowded this brave city.²

Clearly, it required the diverse labors of many people at all stations of life to make possible the very successful free enterprise economy of the Fatherland. His apprenticeship with the old man and his exposure to his parents’ business had made him quite aware of the paramount significance of manufactures, imports and exports. These were the lifeblood of Holland’s high standard of living. Highest in all the world, the old man was wont to say.

It seemed almost natural, in this wondrous Dutch economy, that a few would always prosper, while most were destined to fail in one degree or another. Indeed, huge numbers could but beg or steal for their paltry existence.

In the past several years he had come to realize that it was his particular destiny to keep the life of a merchant. But now he was certain it would not be in this crowded, exciting, overly clean, yet fetid, learned and uncaring city. Nor even in this country—not if he could make his plan work.

Hurrying onward, all of this seemed to well up inside his head. Suddenly, there was a strange remorse for the old chambermaid—should he have paid for the pots? Surely, she would have to make good on them to her master. No, she would know how to hide the loss. Would someone report her to the magistrate for soiling the common way? Unlikely. And what did it matter? He too had suffered some financial loss, albeit small. One misfortune offset the other. Or did it?

Be that the way the world doth work? he murmured under his breath. Contradictions! Like everyone else, I must learn to live with them.

His friends called him a caring, compassionate person, and yet everyone knew he was frequently the rascal. Indeed, he could have been the prodigal son had not his family lost what fortune it once held. He was as anxious as any of his greedy countrymen to take a profit; and yet personally, could just as easily give it away to a friend in need. Why these contrasting traits? Could he ever become rich, or did he even want to?

Another long talk with his friend and employer would solve the dilemmas swimming through his head. Most importantly, he hoped this meeting with his mentor would set him on the way to a new and better, or at least a more exciting, career.

His destination was the last house on this tree lined street along the canal. It was a typical brick structure, with its gable end on the street. Being that it was the last building before the market square, its right side wall was also exposed.

Pressing a big wrought iron latch, he swung open the heavy oak door. Proceeding down a spotless hallway, and past the closed entry to his employer’s apartment and office, he came to the well-appointed kitchen at the rear. There he hoped to find Mr. Young’s maidservant. It was his intention to have her clean his shoes and wash the soiled stockings—for a proper sum of course. She was not there, but the boiling cast iron pot hanging in the tall narrow fireplace suggested she might soon return. He sat on the only chair in the kitchen to loosen the ties at his shoes, then kicked them off under the trestle table. Opening most of the buttons at his knees, he rolled down the smelly grey stockings.

Ah, getting ready for me, art thou Master Claesen? asked the pretty maid coyly, as she entered the rear door of the kitchen. For sure ’tis, I’ve missed thee—me handsome blond-haired devil.

Placing a package of herring on the freshly scrubbed table top, she moved toward him, feigning a motion with her hands as though to undo the buttons of his britches’ front. I’ve not had me hands on thy well-endowed body in near three weeks.

Laughing, he said dear sweet Judith, thou knowest I love it when you taunt me so, but—

Well art thou not one of the most handsome and well constructed lads in all Amsterdam’s fair city—even if thou be not one of the tallest? But what?

Why canst thou not say but nice things about me? Trying to sound serious, he continued, hast thou forgot my vanity, and that I be the wee bit sensitive about my height?

They both laughed.

But not that of thy big boy, I’ll warrant.

I bid thee, stay that.

They continued their mirth.

And so, Master Claesen, but what?

Not just now love. ’Tis other things I’ve got on my mind, and I need converse with Master William.

Well, I was just the tease anyway, she said. If thou should deign to stay the night, come by me chamber after Master Young hath made his retirement.

Perhaps, he said with an equally teasing grin, but for now I’ve more important business on which to attend.

More important than my sweet business? she chuckled.

"Aye. Canst thou make clean these socks and shoes? ’Tis worth three stuivers."

Four, from the looks of ’em, and that might be the bargain.

Done! Is the old man at his apartment?

"Last I did see of him, he was sleeping off the effects of too much sack."

’Tis unusual for him, especially at this hour of the clock.

Not for an Englishman.

Now Judith, mind your manners, thy master be a good and gentle man, and rarely wont to take spirits before evening.

I know. Just teasing again. Now, how hast thou fared?

Fine, excepting the itch at the tip of me length, which has arisen there since last we did bed.

I’ll wager you caught whate’er ’tis from some sleazy Delft maid, during thy absence of me.

Nay, but ’tis of no concern. Canst thou find me another set of hose ?

"Certainly, love. There be an old pair here about, left by one of me other beaus."

Oh, stop your taunting Judy, and fetch them.

He quietly entered the apartment, whose occupant was indeed asleep at the fine walnut table in the center of the musty smelling room. A tipped glass of wine had obviously dampened some papers and the Turkish carpet which covered part of the table. Two stoneware bartmannkrugs, most likely containing more sherry, sat upon some other papers. The young man seated himself in one of the three vacant chairs near the table and next to the open, leaded casement window. This overlooked the street and canal. Several small barges happened to be passing at that moment, and the common way seemed crowded, given the hour.

On countless previous occasions the young apprentice had sat in this room, working diligently at the counting ledgers. For whatever reason, this was the first time he could remember carefully examining its form and contents. Indeed, it was the only time, while its tenant slept.

It was more sparsely furnished than any room in his mother’s house at Delft, yet clearly the furniture here was of a more expensive sort. Against the wall opposite the window was a large oak chest, inlaid with ebony, and standing on ball feet. Although its paneled doors were not open, he knew it contained many papers, account books, diverse printed volumes and a small box of coins. On the wall ahead of him hung a painting of card players and merrymakers by the artist, Jacob Duck, who lived but a few doors beyond the market square. This painting, he had always thought, captured the demeanor of both the well-to-do and the cheats of Amsterdam. Beneath the painting was a long chest, also on ball feet. It, too, contained books and some clothing.

Today the door to the bedchamber was closed. In the corner next to the door was the tall fireplace with its finely molded mantel and the suspended cloth smoke skirt. The wooden floor of the room was painted with large black and white checkerboard squares, which now appeared somewhat dull, due, no doubt, to Judith’s efforts at scrubbing. Indeed, the floor was usually quite clean, but today it was cluttered with fragments of a white clay smoking pipe, ashes, spilled wine and some more wet papers. Overhead the ceiling of the room was exposed; it being supported by large chamfered joists. In at least two places one could see light coming from the apartment above through open joints in the wide boards.

He sat there, for some time, musing about the room and listening to the Englishman’s soft snoring. Eventually, the young man filled one of the several pipes on the table with tobacco from a finely engraved brass box. Staring up at him from the lid of the box was the image of Frederik Hendrik, the Prince of Orange. Lying against it was a green glass roemer, which he stood upright. The tobacco box had evidently stopped this fine raspberry prunted goblet from rolling off the table.

No lit candle was in the room, the hour not calling for it; nor were there any coals at the musty hearth, the season not wanting for that either. Usually there was a strike-a-light steel and tinder box somewhere in the room. Poking about the papers on the table yielded, instead, a pair of pipe tongs. With these he returned to the kitchen. Judy was gone again. Using the small tongs, he helped himself to a coal from the cooking fire with which to stoke the pipe.

Upon his return to the front room, Mr. Young was beginning to stir. Raising his gray head from the table and rubbing his dark eyes, he spoke in his usual soft tone. Ah Jacob, my friend, methought thou wouldst come this day, said the old man in English. He and Jacob always spoke in English when in private. I suspect Judith has forewarned thee of my besotted state, albeit she knows not of my reasons for’t.

Jacob pulled the ladder-back chair closer to the table and sat down. She mentioned thou hadst taken up a glass or two, he said while pulling at his pipe.

I was feeling a great sorrow of myself, responded the Englishman, for today I have received two dispatches out from London, which cause me much distress.

Jacob remained silent, but his eyes indicated that he was most willing to listen if the old man wanted to tell him of his plight. And so he did.

My company’s officials at London have writ that my business here be finished.

How so? interrupted Jacob, in a seemingly shaken tone of voice.

Parliament has so increased the tariff on pottery imports to England as to warrant the company’s decision to terminate all of my export accounts from here.

"B’m’faith!" said Jacob.

Nay, my friend, ’tis the way of enterprise. Albeit unfortunate business for the likes of me, for I command no other trade; nor indeed, any way to apply my knowledge of’t anywhere else at Holland. At my age, methinks it impossible to establish new exports, especially now that I have no company for which to serve as factor.

"What wilt thou do? I’faith, what influence will it have on my mother’s pottery at Delft?"

Mr. Young’s voice now sounded considerably less troubled, as though the wine had washed away his distress. "Be not concerned for me, and remember thy family’s pottery hath no total dependence upon English imports of its wares.

How fares thy mother these days? he added.

This annoyed Jacob somewhat—that the old man should ask his mother’s health in the face of this more important crisis. Upon reflection, it seemed there was only one instance when Mr. Young had met face to face with his mother. And that was ten or more years ago. Curiously, it now crossed Jacob’s mind, his mentor would frequently, but casually inquire after his mother’s welfare. She was of good spirits and health when last I did see her, not three days past.

Jacob recited in brief, the trip from Delft and his stay the previous night at the halfway inn. It was his intention to relate an affair, which had caused him some excitement at the inn, but now that seemed diminished in view of his mentor’s plight. He turned his chair slightly. Placing his elbow upon the table, he rested his chin against his knuckles.

Pass the pipe, said Mr. Young as he staggered up from his chair.

Jacob handed it to him without otherwise altering his position. Mr. Young broke a short piece from the end of the pipe and took several deep pulls on it. Here Jacob, read for thyself the letter, he said, while flipping the wine-stained document onto the table.

My dear & faithful Associate at Amsterdam

William Young

It gives me the utmost discomfort to inform thee that as I learned in prior communication, Parliament has increased English tariffs on Netherlands Delftware to such a large expense as to render impractical any further imports of same from that place unto this factory. The officials of the London Company of pottery sellers are resolved to adhere the purposes of the tariff, and will henceforth sell only those pots produced here at Lambeth, Fulham and wheresoe’er in this country it shall find a good and reasonable convenience of wares for its wholesale trade. This will result in considerable reduction of the company’s factors both here and abroad, and I regret to inform thee, thine hath been terminated amongst them.

With regrets,

Charles Covington

London, the 6th day of June 1647

’Tis curt notice to thee after near 17 years of faithful service here at Amsterdam.

Aye, and 15 more before that at London, added the old man. "Yet I beseech thee Jacob, learn of’t, for ’tis the way of things, be’t English, Dutch, or what’re in these troubled times. Nothing can exceed the importance of profits to the company and its stockholders. If I have taught thee little else during the ten years of apprenticeship with me, it should be that thou needst be secretly bold at thy business affairs, albeit well aware that they may fail someday.

Perhaps I have heeded not my own lesson regarding the latter, for I have taught myself no intricacies of trading other than in pottery.

Continuing after a brief pause, "yet I need not despair too greatly of’t, for I have made some financial preparation against this day. Aye, no doubt I fret to excess, for my investments in Dutch shipping and sundry stocks at the bourse have yielded ten to 18 percent the interest. That which I have privately saved, plus all there be to call in will net me a modest retirement whene’er I return to merry England, or so would I anticipate."

All this saddens me, said Jacob. The Netherlands hath become thy home as much as ’tis mine; and now we both contemplate to take our leave of’t.

I’faith, Jacob. Pray tell what thoughts hast thou to make a departure from Holland?

I have been thinking upon’t for some time. ’Tis my design to apply the trading business as taught by thee, but in some place more suitable to my tastes.

What more tasteful place than thy native country, lad? Holland is the richest, freest, most cultured and educated land in all the Christian world, nay, even the entire world—at least ’tis so since the reduction of Spanish Catholic domination. Surely, no other country tolerates more religious disparity. Think no ill of’t my friend, for ’tis the greatest trading nation on Earth. Despite the contrary efforts of my own native land, he said with a laugh.

I harbor no ill toward the Fatherland, yet I seek a place to apply the merchant’s trade where ’tis not so competitive, yea, not so crowded with people who would press against me. It needs be a place where a man can make his own way at life, and with great, good adventure. Not one where my affairs are set down, even afore I seek to undertake them.

I suppose thou art justified to dream thus, Jacob. The life of the trade accountant or merchant to which thou hast apprenticed, doth often seem the dull existence. I know thou seekest not all the many pleasures in which the most debauched of Holland do partake. Yet God knows thou art no stranger to some of these. So where, pray tell, might you take hold this trading business with more freedom and pleasure of adventure, with less the crowding as the Fatherland? Where wilt thou find such utopia?

At the New Netherlands, methinks.

"Nay. I’faith, Jacob. ’Twill not be there. Thou hast been reading the propaganda out of the New World from the likes of John Smith and Plantagenet. These and others like ’em are but false advertisement whose design ’tis to encourage the investment or settlement of fools in that harsh place. Seek out the less popular accounts of Puritan folk at New England if thou wouldst know the truth of’t. Still better, look upon the experience of the Popham colony and their ill-fated Fort St. George. Tell me not, that thou hast had discourse on’t from the likes of soldiers, or merchants who have journeyed there. True, ’tis a place of great adventure, howbeit far greater hardships of life; as much because of sparse populations as of its meager landschaft."

Landschaft?

Aye, what the Germans call development. The New World is possessed of only the rudest settlements. ’Tis a country of incredible wilderness. What knowest thou of wilderness, Jacob? It can only be described as enormous space, of woodland and swamp—tracts devoid of human control, spaces of bewilderment, the abode of heathens. ’Tis more than uncivilized, ’tis nothing but a great frightfulness, ’tis—.

I prithee. Surely thou makest too much of’t.

Aye, perhaps, but give me for promise ’tis not thy design to take up a residence there. I prithee, if naught else, risk not thy mother’s displeasure at such undertaking.

My mother cares not of’t. And that be not at issue. Thou art wrong to suppose I have gained a sense of the New World in consequence of those who write on’t. But in truth I have heard great tales of’t from a sailor or three. Just this night past, at the halfway inn above Delft I had a long engagement with a sailor whom I reason to tell the truth. I have good ideas out of him concerning some great profits.

How doth it profit thee, pray tell, to make a sojourn unto the New World? What do poor, ignorant sailors know of potentials and profits? Sailors are spinners of yarns and makers of mischief, whose only business ’tis to come and go by ship, ne’er to stay the one place a sufficient time to learn of its resources and business uses. Those in the know of’t, who mostly go and stay are the poor and the religiously suppressed, aye the yeomen of England and the continent, not sailors.

Such yeomen, as thou describest, now seem wont to go anywhere to escape the ravages of war and poverty, but—.

"’Tis true, lad, but surely that’s not what piques thy interest of such remote situation. And remember even Plantagenet speaks of vexatious forests. For ’tis there, poor farmers toil against the tree. Ne’er do they enjoy a convenience of land where ’tis possible to cast down seed and get rich from the harvest of that which doth spring up.

"I have spent many the night at a comfortable tavern with well informed friends in the Dutch West India Company, discussing the hardships along the North and the South Rivers of New Netherlands. Think not that I have no intelligence of those places, nor of their enormous hardships—"

But—

"But naught. I can guess what thou hast learned of’t from thy rude sailing friends. Truth be told, as thou sayest, there are a few fortunes to be made in trade with the heathens there, but the Company men tell me clearly ’tis the lucky soul who maketh a fortune, while twenty to his one lose everything or die at the trying. By my troth, my own dear uncle followed John Smith in the company of Captain Newport to Jamestown at Virginia in search of riches. Yet I know not more of him, than the life was cruelly taken out of him by heathen Indians in 1622 at a placed said to be the Martin’s Hundred. ’Tis certain his foolish venture upon that hard land brought him no riches save his meager reward in heaven. If thou seekest a place of great remoteness for thy adventures why not travel to some truly far flung island—say that recently discovered by the Dutch Captain Abel Tasman. A stay at his Tasmania would surely cure thy wanderlust."

"Oh, I prithee, Master Young, in truth I am not so well versed in the travel accounts as thou, yet suffer me some sense of the world and its terrible cruelties. One need travel not afar to know of human misery. I’faith dear Holland ’tself, as everyone knoweth, has lost thousands of souls in the revolt again the Spanish rule. And who knows not the strife between King Charles and Cromwell’s Roundheads in thy merry old England? How many thousand horrid deaths hath that accounted for? Indeed, how could anyone, tutored or not, miss the terrible destruction wrought by the foolish religious war throughout Europe these thirty odd years passed?

I prithee, sayest not I have no understanding of hardship. Yea, for I fear not new places, landschaft or no. Nay, even death ’tself be of little real concern. What frights me, truth be known, is a life of dull work and ordinary existence in this crowded, watery land.

"Ah, my friend thou art so wise for one with only a basic education. A philosopher sans universitas; so compassionate art thou, so adventuresome, so naïve. Would that I had been more like you as a young man, with a lust for life more than that which comes out of ordinary employment. But, alas I was not. In truth, it occurred to me several years past to plead more earnestly with thee to take up my own accounts. But since then I have been aware of its gradual faltering, and more recently it seemed ill-advised to direct thee so. Yet, ’tis all to which you have been reasonably instructed.

I know thou canst succeed not thy older brother to your mother’s small business. ’Tis unfortunate thy father had invested so heavily in tulips back in ’thirty-seven. I suspect the loss is what caused him to wither and die. His former convenience of wealth could have been more profitably employed at increasing his kilns.

Jacob was surprised at Mr. Young’s knowledge of his father’s investments. Surely, he thought, Mr. Young’s few direct dealings with his mother concerning the product of her small kiln would not have led to such personal insights. Indeed, Jacob had handled most of the contacts between Mr. Young and his mother since she began making export of tiles and pots to England. Yet, it was but a passing curiosity, he mused, especially now that exports to London seemed at an end. Besides, it was well enough known that he never wished for any involvement in his family’s business.

Mr. Young seemed to sense the lad’s pensive nature, and thought it best to change the subject, or at least soften his criticism of Jacob’s designs for his own future. I prithee, Jacob, I intend not that my lack of adventuresome spirit should dampen thy own. ’Tis only practical considerations regarding employment on which I seek to advise thee. Thou art well enough skilled in matters of accounting and exports to apply them where’er thou wilt. Even at New Netherlands, if that truly be thy intent. I pray thee, seek some employment more suitable to thy humor. Yet there is one small advice I feel constrained to give thee.

Jacob had a different look on his face as his mentor proceeded.

Despite your lack of university education, thou possess a keen sense of the vulgar languages, especially English. Would thou had secured some command of the Latin, or better, the French as ’tis used by the dandies of that country. Yet ’tis of no great detriment, because thou art well spoken in English. Know this: the successful gentleman is he that uses clever speech in Latin, French, English or whatever language. It matters little how a man writes his letters or keeps a journal. But his ability to speak convincingly among his peers and betters will serve him to great good result. Few will ever be so highly skilled as Will Shakespeare at writing their intentions, and it matters naught. Howbeit, for God’s sake, use thy great facility to learn other languages. The world of business is a house of diverse tongues, and he who can employ them, opens many doors. Only accidents of birthright and favoritism might serve him as well. Dost thou understand me, Jacob?

You make a long discourse of’t, laughed Jacob, but methinks I fathom the general intent. Thou wouldst have me speak English rather than Dutch or some other language, and do it in the manner of lawyers and diplomats, perhaps even practice repartée in order to enhance my station in life. I’ll take thy advice on’t, yet I warrant ’tis beyond me now to learn the usages of Master Shakespeare, the French sparing of wits, or even thou, good sir."

Jest naught, Jacob, I beseech thee learn as many languages as thou canst for indeed thou hast a special talent for’t.

Jacob smiled as though he was not at all convinced. Now he thought it useful to change the subject. And so he asked about the second distressing letter from England.

’Tis both sad and gay as ’twere. Thou wilt recall that last year upon my return from London I told thee of my daughter’s marriage to a young man employed in the management of a gunpowder mill. By my daughter’s correspondence I have learned that he was killed some ten days past in an explosion of those works. Now she wishes not to lament her loss in the home of my former wife and is, as we speak, en route here to stay her period of mourning. Naturally, I am pleased at her coming, yet saddened by her loss. But the worst of’t is my embarrassment that she arrives so soon upon my expulsion from gainful employment. Her mother shall no doubt revel at such communication.

Both men sat quietly for the moment. Jacob made a sign for the pipe, which Mr. Young passed him. He removed the cold dottle with the tip of his clasp knife, and refilled the bowl in the brass box, pressing the tobacco with the tamper built into one end of the container. Then, remembering there was nothing at hand with which to light it, he laid the pipe on the table.

Judith, called the older man, "fetch us a coal—some claret for our jugs and clean roemers, if you please."

She was there in short order with the requests.

Wilt thou and thy guest take supper anon? she said in Dutch. I have added herring to yesterday’s chowder and we have a fresh loaf.

Perhaps in an hour or so, replied Mr. Young, after glancing at the lantern clock on the mantle. He indicated that she should apply the coal to his pipe, and pour the claret. Having done so she retired from the room.

While Jacob was lighting his pipe, Mr. Young said, thou hast an eye to my maidservant, dost thou not, Jacob?

Jacob shrugged an indefinite reply with what seemed to be an uncharacteristic blush.

No need to fidget, he laughed. God knows she’s a comely wench.

Strange, thought Jacob, that the old man should here refer to his interest in Judith, for it had been no secret previous to this occasion.

May I tell thee good sir, of what I learned the night past, perhaps ’twill alter our melancholy.

I prithee, tell of’t, I trust thy tale and the claret will set us both at ease.

Jacob took up his roemer from which he drank off half, and then drew deeply upon his pipe. "Yesterday on the snip schuit I chanced to meet a sailor recently returned from New Amsterdam. When we departed the barge I invited him to sup with me, for I would hear of his adventures. Thereupon, we drank a fair number of healths and eventually he was much persuaded to relate a tale regarding some marketable items at the New Netherlands."

The older man chuckled about the number of healths, which they drank, and as there was some loud commotion on the street just outside the window, there was a pause in the conversation, but then Jacob continued.

During his leave at shore in that place, the sailor came upon three Indians, whom he was told were called Minquas, or by some name which is approximate thereto. It so happened that he was then wearing about his neck a small string of red, white and blue glass beads made after what he described as the latest fashion of some obscure Rotterdam company of blowers. The Indians, having taken notice of his decorations, made considerable signs and words. These he was ignorant of, yet ’twas clear enough, their design was to secure for themselves these baubles. Soon he came to understand through their signs that they would offer a near-full case bottle of brandy, which he judged to be of medium quality upon tasting thereof, and which they had by some good fortune previously acquired in that city. The sailor said he was quick to take up the exchange, for he knew the worth of the baubles to be but one tenth the brandy, even though it be not full, nor finest.

Here Jacob drew on the pipe again, then filled his glass from one of the bearded man jugs.

"Thinking no more on’t, than having duped some foolish heathens he took up their bottle and went to some convenient place to make an enjoyment of its content in the company of a harlot, of which not a few could be found in those parts.

On the day following, those same three Indians, plus another two of their fellows, chanced upon him once more. Again, they signed their intention to give brandy, which they now had to the quantity of four uncorked green case bottles. For these they would have more beads. He had naught of them, yet through his motions managed to inform them that they should await his return. Thereupon he went toward the nearby West India factory, where he knew several crates of glass beads from his ship had recently been unloaded. Indeed, in this he had assisted of his own goodness, but by no formal duty. The warehouseman had said that he would owe the favor. Upon his arrival there and finding this fellow, the latter did with some reluctance and suspicious behavior, open a chest. From it, he allowed the sailor to draw out a small handful each of red, white and blue glasses. Thinking the man had not the authority for this, the sailor offered three stuivers. To which the Company man said the price offered was near the correct amount, but he would not accept the same in view of the favor.

Thy sailor boy was indeed wont to relate his tale with the greatest of particulars, joked Mr. Young.

Jacob took the opportunity of this interruption to draw again on the pipe and to drain another half glass of the claret.

Aye, ’tis true, yet hear more if thou please.

The older man nodded for him to continue.

"My sailor friend said that he placed the beads along with the three stuivers in his pouch and returned to where the Minquas were anticipating his arrival. By now he was thinking himself quite the savvy Dutch merchant. Into each of their hands he began to spill that which he judged one-fifth the beads. Having completed this work he pointed to the four bottles of brandy. Thereupon the Indians commenced a lively discussion among themselves. Shortly, one of these fellows handed the sailor a very tired-looking iron knife Its bone handle was incised with decorative lines typical of English cutlers. This being most contrary to his expectations, he shook his head and refused to take up the knife. Once more he pointed to the bottles making a sign that they should give them up. ‘Taesta,’ or so the sailor pronounced their word. ‘Taesta, taesta!’ one of them continued. He took this to be their word for ‘no.’ Again the Indian presented the knife, but this time he took the sailor by the hand and into which he gently pressed the knife, even going so far as to close the man’s fingers about the object. The heathen stepped back, and evidently in this manner they considered the exchange to be at a conclusion. The sailor too, according to his tale, recognized that the trading was complete, howbeit his design succeeded not as he had intended. Sadly, as he told it, his profit at this venture was one old knife hardly worth the stuiver.

"Thereupon, another of the Indians proceeded to withdraw something from his own pouch, which was a bag made from the skin and complete head of a wolf. After some shuffling about in the grotesque pouch he produced the string of beads, which they had traded the day before. Holding it aloft, the heathen said something like ‘ottchoorha, gaija zaband! Zaband.’

"The man who gave the knife selected one bead of each color from those the sailor had just poured into his hand. The remainder he dumped into his pouch. With these three loose beads in one hand he took up the string from his compatriot. Holding these in a manner for the sailor to compare them, he indicated the difference in their design. Those on the string were tubular in shape, near in length to a fingernail. The three loose beads were spherical and half the size of a garden pea. Those of the former were clearly suited to their desires. The others were not. My sailor friend complained of’t loudly, saying all the beads were made of the same metal, probably even at the same glass house, and that the shape was of no significance. These rude fellows could find no agreement in what the sailor said, for the shape seemed paramount among them.

And so it was, that the sailor related the event for my benefit, he having preserved in his memory a fresh idea of that miserable occasion.

Ah, the poor fellow, laughed Mr. Young. He poured himself and Jacob more claret.

Gulping some more of the wine, Jacob said, "excuse my excessive tale, but its useful part will soon be revealed.

"Our seaman-turned-merchant, was quick enough to grasp the Indian lesson in the geometry of glass baubles and the value which the Minquas place upon their diverse shapes. ‘Zaband,’ he said, trying his best to mimic their word, as he pointed to the string of tubular beads still dangling from the heathen’s hand. Next he signed to them by pointing at the sun and tracing its path across the sky and around to its position on the dawn horizon, all the time saying more ‘zaband’ tomorrow. This they seemed to understand, for they murmured a few quiet, yet guttural, words as they took their leave of him.

"Considerably distraught by his apparent failure at the Indian trade, the sailor went to one of the many rude taverns in New Amsterdam—that being his own description of them. There he took a dinner of bread and soup and as many tankards of beer as his remaining stuivers would purchase.

"He inquired among his fellow seamen, who came there, if any had the tubular beads. None seemed to possess such, nor display much concern of them. However, later that evening he took up acquaintance with another warehouseman of the Dutch India Company to whom he made a relation of his embarrassing trade with the Minquas. This man laughed considerably at the tale, but eventually gave our seaman an education in the matter of likes and dislikes of the Indians thereabout.

"The Minqua nation of Indians, as the warehouseman said they were most properly called, were possessed of a far greater shrewdness at the trade, than those local natives who frequented the town. Indians who lived on Lang Eylandt and elsewhere in the vicinity of New Amsterdam, called their tubular beads of either blue or white shells by the name wampum or wampumpeake. The Minquas, who spoke another language, and who traveled to New Amsterdam from some far off place, called their shell beads ottchoorha, while still other Indians may say it zaband or zeewant.

"Indeed, this man told our sea dog that both nations of Indians use these shell beads as their money. Furthermore, he was informed, to his great surprise, that the Dutch also use the wampum or zeewant as money among themselves and with the Indians.

"More than this, he eventually learned from another source, was that a few clever Dutch craftsmen make the wampum from the clam shells which abound in the shallow coastal waters thereabout. The most valuable of these being derived from what the English vulgarly call hens, but which the natives refer to as the quahog. And ’tis from the black eyes of that useful creature from which the blue wampum is carved and drilled.

"Hereupon, our hero sayeth he let it be known to the warehouseman that he had indeed duped the Minquas in his first trade with them, for he had given them counterfeit money or beads in the shape of tubular glass. To this the companyman replied that he did not have a knowledge of tubular glass beads out of Holland, but he doubted very greatly that anyone could have fooled the clever Minquas. More likely than not, they would fool some others of their kind with the counterfeit.

Here our sailor reporteth once more sinking to a depression of the mind, and he said no more to the dock worker. As he was finishing off the last of his beer, two of his shipmates made a noisy entrance of that tavern. Our hero made little notice of the same until he had the great good luck to espy a considerable necklace of red, white and blue tubular glasses, which one of his mates did sport. To make this long tale shorter, evidently this drunken sailor was in need of some protective device, for he was only too willing to give up his beads for the old knife.

At this point Jacob declined more claret, which Mr. Young offered to pour. He did, however, relight his pipe. The look on his mentor’s face indicated a considerable interest and sufficient encouragement toward a continuation of the tale.

"The sailor told me that on the morrow, four of the five Minquas returned to the appointed place. In short order the deal was done betwixt them. They gave him all the brandy which was yet in their possession—two bottles and a quarter. Though no accountant, our sailor recalculated the rate of his exchanges at one against eighteen (three stuivers of round beads, for which he did not actually pay; traded at a loss for one knife valued at a stuiver; in turn given for a half fathom of glass tubes; ultimately exchanged for about fl.2.14 of brandy)."

But, forget not that 120 guilders worth at New Amsterdam fetch only a hundred here, interrupted the older man.

Aye, I am aware of’t, yet ’tis an added advantage if a man should purchase goods here and exchange them there.

And ’twould be worth a handsome fine if he be caught at such endeavors.

To this, Jacob made no reply, but he did drink a bit more wine. There is a brief conclusion to my tale, wouldst thou hear of’t?

I prithee.

"In the course of the next two days the sailor managed to exchange some of his brandy for five more strings of tubular glass beads, which he found about the necks of other sailors recently arrived from the Fatherland. He said it amounted to about three fathoms in all. He also came to comprehend that real wampum, consisting of a mixture of blue and white shells, could be valued at five guilders to the fathom. But the best blue ones were generally worth twice the value of the white. Further it became known to him that a fathom, generally measured at the spread of