Gathered together to celebrate one of the anniversaries of the festive season, the flickering lights from oil lamps and tallow candles, reflected from the whitewashed walls of Madame Wessels’ assembly room, shone on as happy and gay hearted a gathering as is found in the magnificent and brilliantly lighted halls of our present grand city. They shone on “fair women and brave men.” Notwithstanding the humorous caricatures of Washington Irving, the women were comely and the men were a sturdy and adventurous lot. Here was the government official, with his sword at his side. Here was the prosperous trader or merchant in his silk or velvet breeches and coat flowered with silver lace, with gold or silver buttons, lace neck cloth and silk stockings. He also wore a sword. The common burgher in his homespun breeches and Kersey coat also took a part. Handsome dresses, displayed on female forms were not numerous but there were some that indicated the success and prosperity of the heads of the families represented by the wearers. Gowns of thick embroidered silk and petticoats of cloth and quilted silk graced the festive dance.
May-day was also celebrated with great spirit and on this occasion the people were accorded by the city magistrates the greatest license. It was announced that “any damage which may come from the general rejoicing within the city on May-day shall be made known to the Burgomasters at the City Hall immediately thereafter when means shall be taken to furnish reparation.”
But Governor Stuyvesant had no sympathy for such “unprofitable customs,” and such “unnecessary waste of powder.” He forbade on New Year and May-days, the firing of guns, the beating of drums or the planting of May-poles, and ordered that at these times there shall not be “any wines, brandy-wines or beer dealt out.” It is supposed that this ordinance was not strictly enforced and that its restrictions were little observed.
Stuyvesant also, in February, 1658, forbade the farmers and their servants to “ride the goose” at the feast of Bacchus and Shrovetide, which brought a protest from the Burgomasters and Schepens, who felt aggrieved that the Director General and Council should have done so without their knowledge and consent. “Riding the goose,” or “pulling the goose,” was a cruel sport, but it was not the fate of the goose that moved the tender heart of Stuyvesant. He says in response to the protest that “in their time it has never been practiced here, and yet, notwithstanding the same may in some place of the fatherland be tolerated and looked at through the fingers, it is altogether unprofitable, unnecessary and criminal for subjects and neighbors to celebrate such pagan and Popish feasts, and to practice such evil customs.” He then gives the Burgomasters and Schepens a sound scolding for their presumption, and informs them “that the institution of a little bench of Justice under the title of Schout, Burgomasters and Commissioners does in no wise interfere with or diminish aught of the power and authority of the Director General and Councellors in the enacting of any ordinance or making any particular interdict, especially such as tend to the glory of God and the best interests of the Inhabitants.”
II
New York and the Pirates
The English in New York