On July 19, 1963, the Tubantia newspaper reported:
“Today, Mr. S. Douma officially retires from the public works department in Aalten. Thus far, Mr. Douma has been unwilling to be ‘persuaded’ to appear at the customary farewell gathering of the staff association. Out of modesty. With Mr. Douma, one of the most striking figures of the street scene is disappearing. He is particularly well-liked by the farming community. It was he, after all, who served the municipality of Aalten in the profession of rat-catcher.
However, this departure does not mean that the Aalten rats now have free rein. On the contrary, Mr. Douma is leaving everything behind except for the rats. For the time being, he will continue to handle this part of his duties at the request of the municipality. The hunt will likely become even more intensive, as the time is now available for it. The ‘rat-catcher’, who was in municipal service for over 30 years, has handled 1,172 pest control cases since the rat hunt began. How many rats he has killed is difficult to estimate, but it is certain that there are thousands. Mr. Douma hopes to add many more to that number.”
On Thursday, October 22, 1964, Douma, ‘the retired rat-catcher from Aalten’, was a guest on the NCRV radio program ‘Samen uit samen thuis’.
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Several theories circulate regarding the origin of the name Aalten. But what are they based on and how credible are they? Oud Aalten delved into history to discover more about this.
We begin with the oldest historical mentions of Aalten, as these may contain clues about the origin of the name. Next, we examine what toponomy (the study of place names) can teach us about this. We then discuss several theories regarding the origin and meaning of the name Aalten and conclude with our findings.
Deed from 1234, in which Aalten is mentioned twice as ‘Alethim’
Earliest mentions
There are several medieval documents containing a reference to Aalten, with varying spellings. The best-known mentions are Aladna and Aladon, after which the Aladnaweg and a school are named. Below is an overview of historical mentions, including a reference to the oldest known source.
828
A charter from 828 describes how a certain Geroward donated all his possessions, including those in Aladna, to the St. Martin’s Church in Utrecht on February 7 of that year. Little is known about Geroward’s identity, but he was presumably a Frankish nobleman in the service of the Carolingian Emperor Louis the Pious, son of Charlemagne.1
1138/ 1139
In 1138 or 1139, Godschalk of Versnevelde (Varsseveld), with the consent of his brother Count Gerhard (II) of Lohn, enters into an exchange agreement with the canons of the St. Mary’s Church in Rees. He transfers an estate in Megchelen near Gendringen, including associated hunting rights, two fields, a meadow, and nine serfsof both sexes. In exchange, he receives a property in Alethnin, with all yields and seven serfs.2
1152
In 1152, Count Godschalk (II) of Lohn, son of Gerhard II, reached a settlement with Bishop Frederick II of Münster. Godschalk claimed authority over the parishes of Lon, Winethereswik, Aladon, Versnevelde, Selehem, and Hengelo based on his comital title. The bishop saw this differently, after which it was established that Godschalk did not own these areas but was to manage them as a vassal of the bishop. 3
1188
In 1188, during the reign of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I, priest Everhardus, chaplain to Count Henry of Dalen and Diepenheim, compiled an inventory of Henry’s feudal (vassal) and allodial (free) possessions. The feudal properties were recorded under the parishes to which they belonged, including Ecberghe, Gronlo, Winterswic, Nehde, Ghesterne, Lochem, Almen, Dotinchem, Zelhem, and Althen.4
1234
In 1234, Count Herman (I) of Lohn, Lord of Bredevoort, together with his brothers Henry, provost of Zutphen, and Otto, canon of St. Gereon in Cologne, as well as his brothers-in-law Werner van Herden, Sweder van Ringelberg, Herman Werecen, Herman van Munster and their spouses, and all their further heirs, entered into an exchange with the Bethlehem Monastery. In this agreement, the monastery receives from the count, among other things: duabus warandiis, una in marchia Alethim et altera in marchia Silvolden (two hunting grounds; one in the mark of Aalten and the other in the mark of Silvolde). Witnesses include the parish priests Johannes from Bocholte, Conradus from Alethim, Ernestus from Winterswic, and Johannes from Versevelde.5
1254
In 1254, mention is made of the “curtis Grevinkhof sita in parochia Alethe“ (the estate Grevinkhof, situated in the parish of Aalten): Gotscalco de Reme receives from Otto van Loon in castle-fief the curtis Grevinkhof in Aalten, with the mill and further appurtenances, with the exception of the timber court. Present here Gerardus Canoninicus “frater domini G. de Reme”.6
1313
In a register of churches belonging to the Diocese of Münster from the year 1313, the following parishes, currently located in the Netherlands, are mentioned: Alten, Dinxperle, Eiberghe, Gheesteren, Grolle, Hengelo, Neede, Seelfwalde, Selehem, Versevelde and Wynterswik.7
1386
Derich Willemssoen van Lyntloe enfeoffed with Varenvelde in the parish of Alten, sabbato after Briccii ep. (November 17) 1386. 8
1409
Derk van Linteloe and his children Derk and Herman, declare to have sold to Johan Rensynck the estate ten Nygenhues, located in the hamlet of Lynteloe under Aelten and held in fief from the Lordship of Borculo, 1409 July 24 (in vigilia beati Jacobi apostoli maioris).9
Toponymy and sound development
Toponymy, or the study of place names, is a branch of linguistics that studies place names and seeks to explain their origins.10 A generally accepted principle within toponymy is that the sound development of a name is more reliable than its spelling, as written mentions in pre-modern times were inconsistent and influenced by scribes, dialects, and time-bound conventions. The sound of a name, by contrast, usually remains more consistent and therefore offers better insight into the original pronunciation and meaning.
Now, we are not toponymists, but when we view the sound development of the earliest mentions of Aalten chronologically, we believe we recognize a pattern:
For a period of four centuries (9th-13th century), these mentions consist of three syllables, starting with ‘ala’ or ‘ale’, followed by a d or t, and in most cases ending with an n. Although the spelling varies, the sound structure remains largely consistent. From the 13th/14th century onwards, we see that the second syllable gradually disappears and that the name corrupts into Althen/Alten/Aelten/Aalten.
Theories on origin and meaning
Below we discuss the best-known theories regarding the origin and meaning of the name Aalten.
Place on a hill
A frequently cited theory states that the name Aalten is derived from the Latin altus, meaning ‘height’. This explanation seems primarily based on the fact that Aalten originated on a hill and the phonetic similarity between altus and Aalten. However, there is no historical or linguistic evidence for this theory. Furthermore, this explanation does not take into account the sound development in the oldest known mentions of the name.
Homestead by the altar
Another theory suggests that Aalten was inhabited around 150 BC by Angles from the area that is now Berkelland. According to this explanation, the name is derived from the Anglian ael (altar, place of sacrifice) and thun (garden, enclosed yard). This would lead to Aelthun, or ‘homestead by the altar.’11 This explanation is also speculative and does not fit the sound pattern of the medieval mentions of the name.
Plant or tree name
In Gelderse plaatsnamen verklaard, Gerald van Berkel states that the name Aalten may be related to a plant or tree name and refers to the Old Norse alað (nourishment, food), aldin (edible tree fruit), or alda (fruit-bearing oak).12 Although there is no direct evidence for this explanation, it does fit the sound pattern of the medieval mentions.
Place by the water
In Prehistorische waternamen Maurits Gysseling suggests that the name Aalten is derived from the Indo-EuropeanAlatanā, meaning “situated in a bend of a stream”.13 In the case of Aalten, this would refer to the Slingebeek. Van Berkel, however, calls this theory far-fetched in Gelderse plaatsnamen verklaard.
Place name researcher Bas Kloens disagrees. In his study on place names and their origins, Valkuilen in de Plaatsnaamkunde, he states that it is actually “abundantly clear” that Aalten, like many other similar place names, owes its name to its location on a watercourse or stream.14
Conclusion
No single theory regarding the origin of the place name Aalten can be supported with hard evidence or completely ruled out. It remains, therefore, largely a matter of speculation. Nevertheless, we lean towards the theories of Gysseling and Kloens, who state that Aalten owes its name to its location on a watercourse, namely the Slingebeek.
Furthermore, despite Van Berkel’s skepticism, a connection with the Indo-European Alatanâ, which bears a strong resemblance to Aladna, seems plausible to us.
In short, although not scientifically proven, our nomination for the most plausible explanation for the origin and meaning of the name Aalten goes to Place by the water / situated in a bend of a stream.
The village of Aalten, situated on a hill by the Slingebeek (fragment of a topographical map from 1845)
Archaeological finds indicate that the early inhabitants of Aalten were already burying their dead around 800 AD in a burial field on the current Damstraat. During excavation work in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, traces of a Merovingian-Frankish burial field were discovered there. Notable finds, such as spearheads, stirrups, a shield boss, and silver belt links, suggest that a warrior may have been buried here.
On De Hoven, traces of habitation from the same period have been found, consisting of various so-called sunken huts – rectangular pits that served as work or storage spaces. Pottery fragments found here correspond with the finds from the burial field on the Damstraat.
The Christianization of Aalten
Following the subjugation of the Saxons by Charlemagne around 785, the Christianization of Aalten and the surrounding area began. Missionary Liudger, later Bishop of Münster, played a significant role in the founding of churches in the region, presumably including the first church in Aalten.
This church, originally likely a simple wooden chapel, was founded on a strategic and symbolic site: the elevated location where the current Old Helenachurch stands today. This site became the religious and social center of the community.
Archaeological research has shown that the residents of De Hoven abandoned that site around the year 1000. It is possible that, after converting to Christianity, they decided to live closer to the recently founded church to enjoy the protection of the faith. From that time on, the deceased were also presumably buried in and around the church.
Churchyard
A churchyard developed around the church, which played an important role in the life of the community during the Middle Ages. The churchyard in Aalten was originally much larger than the current plot surrounding the Old Helenachurch. It served not only as a burial ground but also as a place for social and religious gatherings. In those days, people even lived around or on the churchyard, often officials such as sextons or clergy who were directly involved with the church.
In recent centuries, skeletal remains have been frequently encountered during excavation work in the ground around the church, such as on the Köstersbulte, the path along Elim, and also on the Kerkstraat, where buildings now stand. The original burial ground around the church was therefore much larger than the current site on which the church stands.
Until the 19th century, the deceased were primarily buried in and around the church. Burial inside the church itself was reserved for people of status, such as clergy, nobles, and benefactors. It was believed that a grave within the church guaranteed a better position in the afterlife. However, most people were buried in the churchyard surrounding the church. Individual tombstones were rare in the Middle Ages; many people were buried in unmarked graves.
Health Risks
However, burial inside the church brought significant problems. A lack of space and the decomposition of bodies led to health risks; churchyards became overcrowded, and the situation became untenable.
Subsidence in the floor occurred regularly within the church, and the owners of the respective graves often failed to carry out the necessary repairs. The odor of decay in the pews near the hole in question was sometimes unbearable for weeks, especially during the summer months.
Aalten Market with church and ‘bone hall’, c. 1740 – drawn by Piet te Lintum
Epidemics such as the plague exacerbated this problem. Consequently, a regulation was established stating that churchwardens, in cases of negligence, were permitted to contract out the necessary repairs, whereby the respective plot would revert to the church.
The condition of the burial ground around the church was also often poor. Because burials had not been conducted at a sufficient depth for a long time, bones frequently came to the surface. A bone collector would gather these remains from time to time, for two bushels of rye per year, and cast them into the bone hall (also known as a charnel house), a small building in the churchyard on the Market side. When the supply became too large, it was cleared away.
Royal Decree of 1827
In 1827, King William I decreed by law that, from 1829, cemeteries had to be established outside built-up areas. For many people, this was a major step—to break with all traditions and leave the dead outside the village “just anywhere in the ground.”
The practice of burial in and around the church symbolized an era in which religion, death, and community were closely intertwined. The ban on this practice was a turning point that not only benefited public health but also marked a shift in how death was handled: individual graves were given more space, more funerary monuments appeared, and cemeteries were landscaped.
Christiaan Caspar Stumph, Mayor of Aalten since 1811, was annoyed by burials within the village. In 1818, he therefore had an ‘outside cemetery’ created for himself and his family on his estate, Het Smees. His son Abraham Anthony was the first to be buried here, followed by Stumph himself in 1820. In total, seven people rest on this unusual burial mound, which is still visible on the Nannielaantje in Aalten.
Following the royal decree of 1827, a site on the Varsseveldsestraatweg in Aalten was designated as a cemetery. Due to the growth of the village, this cemetery became increasingly enclosed by the early 20th century. In 1923, the Berkenhove cemetery was put into use. Although the Old Cemetery has since taken on the function of a memorial park, it is still sporadically used for the interment of the deceased in existing graves.
When the cemetery on the Varsseveldsestraatweg was established, the Catholic community was given its own section across the street, on the corner with the Molenstraat. This cemetery became full after only thirty years, after which a new Roman Catholic cemetery on the Piet Heinstraat was put into use in 1868. The small old cemetery later took on the function of a public green space.
On the Haartsestraat in Aalten, just outside the village, lies the Jewish cemetery of Aalten. Although the site officially became the property of the Jewish community in 1852, there are indications that the cemetery had been in use since approximately 1820. There are about seventy tombstones on the site, varying in age and design. At the entrance on the Haartsestraat stands a metaheer house, a ritual building used for the cleansing of the deceased according to Jewish traditions.
When the Catholic cemetery on the Varsseveldsestraatweg became full, textile manufacturer Anton Driessen donated a piece of land on the current Piet Heinstraat in 1868 to be laid out as a cemetery. He also donated an iron Calvary cross and an iron gate. The bier house dates from 1888. A century later, this cemetery also became full. From 1960 onwards, Catholic deceased were therefore buried in the new Roman Catholic section of the Berkenhove cemetery.
After the Old Cemetery on the Varsseveldsestraatweg became full, the ‘Berkenhove’ cemetery on the Romienendiek was put into use in 1923. The original section is enclosed between the Romienendiek, the Barloseweg, and the Koningsweg. Over the years, the cemetery has been regularly expanded. In 1960, a Catholic section was added because the Roman Catholic cemetery on the Piet Heinstraat was full. A modern funeral center and crematorium are located at Berkenhove.
The Old Cemetery on the Prins Mauritsstraat was established around 1830, simultaneously with the adjacent Jewish Cemetery. The site became available after the dismantling of the fortifications on the eastern side of the town. In 1925, a new entrance gate was installed, and a bier house was built a few years later.
Bredevoort once had two Jewish cemeteries. The oldest was located on the former castle grounds behind Hozenstraat 5. In 1953, this site was sold to the municipality of Aalten for housing construction. The remains and tombstones were then transferred to the second cemetery on the Prins Mauritsstraat.
The Jewish Cemetery on the Prins Mauritsstraat was established around 1830, simultaneously with the adjacent general cemetery. The last Bredevoort Jews to be interred in this cemetery were brother and sister Levi and Sara Sander. Both died in 1938, shortly after one another. The cemetery is not accessible to the public.
The Kloosterhof cemetery on the Kloosterdijk in Bredevoort was established in 1862-1863 and originally served as a Roman Catholic cemetery. The oldest, centrally located part has a symmetrical layout with a characteristic entrance gate, a bier house, and a Calvary cross. In the 1980s, the cemetery was expanded with a general section. A mortuary was also erected in 1989.
In 2011, Aalten made national headlines due to a remarkable story: a small religious community had settled at the Rensink farm in Lintelo, awaiting the Apocalypse. They called themselves the ‘Wachters van de Nacht’ (Watchers of the Night).
At their farm, they were preparing for survival during the end times. According to them, the Apocalypse would soon arrive with a tsunami, causing large parts of the Netherlands to be submerged underwater. Higher-lying Aalten would, as a result, find itself located on the coast.
Jokers posted satirical videos on YouTube in which Aalten-on-Sea was presented as a sunny seaside resort, where the local retail sector had effortlessly adapted to the demand for beach entertainment. However, according to the Watchers themselves, anyone who ignored their warnings would have to face the consequences. A drowning death awaited them. In the meantime, the Watchers stocked up on large food supplies for the refugees they expected to arrive from the Randstad (the major urban area in the west of the Netherlands).
On 11 April 1996, Aalten was briefly global news. At the Kropveld-Schipstal Aalten (KSA) abattoir, 64,000 British calves were to be culled. This was carried out by order of the Ministry of Agriculture due to the potential contamination with ‘mad cow disease’, or BSE.
Never before in Dutch history had calves been transported to the abattoir with such spectacle as the first 108 head of cattle brought to Aalten from the Veluwe that day. The operation, which was to last six weeks, caused a great stir in the Netherlands and beyond.
For KSA, the slaughter of the 64,000 calves was a massive, and certainly financially attractive, job. The company normally slaughtered 2,000 calves weekly for the Japanese market. Those operations were suspended for six weeks for this special commission, during which approximately 10,000 calves had to be slaughtered per week.
Image: KesselsKramer, Amsterdam
Demonstrations
The lorries in which the animals made their way to the slaughterhouse were escorted by two riot police control vehicles. Upon arrival at KSA, they were met by a crowd of activists and curious onlookers. Members of animal welfare organisations, such as the Vegetarian Association, Lekker Dier, and PETA, had taken up positions at the abattoir fence with banners and sandwich boards. A funeral wreath hung on the metal gate, wooden crosses lay on the street, and the protesters wore black clothing.
As the first three lorry combinations carrying calves approached the iron gate of KSA, the jeering of the crowd swelled. “Murderers, murderers”, chanted a motley mixture of animal rights activists and local teenagers towards the drivers. Half a minute later, the gate slammed shut again. The slaughter could begin.
The private security service hired by the KSA management after a bomb threat had been received at the company the day before ensured that none of the protesters could enter the abattoir grounds. When the gate was closed again, a young PETA sympathiser collapsed and gave free rein to her tears. A group of locals reacted indifferently to the silent grief. Pointing at the piercing the girl had had placed through her lower lip, a corpulent Aalten resident lisped: “A piece of rope through that ring and she wouldn’t look out of place among those calves…”
Press conference
On the day of the arrival of the first British calves, a press centre was set up in café De Driesprong. Mayor Tijme Bouwers presided over the press conference. The municipality of Aalten provided logistical measures to clear the way for the dozens of lorries delivering thousands of calves daily. KSA director H. Swinkels emphasised that stringent safety measures had been taken regarding the potential risks of contamination.
To see for themselves that the slaughter was painless for the animals and, due to the measures taken, risk-free for the staff, journalists were allowed a look inside the abattoir later that afternoon. Wearing special overalls that were destroyed after use, the tour led past the slaughter hall and the specially refrigerated storage silos for the blood. This viscous mass—a total of 450,000 litres—was transported by tanker to Rotterdam to be incinerated. The carcasses were sent daily in sealed containers to companies in Son and the Frisian town of Bergum.
After a number of hectic days, peace returned to Aalten.
Aalten is the only place in the Netherlands where a horn industry was established. Here, products were made from buffalo horn, such as pipes, combs, buttons, signal whistles, needle cases, and knife handles. Buffalo were not killed or specifically bred for their horns. Virtually all of the material was used, and the remnants were spread over the fields. With the advent of plastics and mass production after the Second World War, this industry disappeared.
Horn turners
Family ties had a strong influence on the emergence of the horn industry. From 1855, five horn turners began in Aalten: Bernard Vaags, Gerrit Peters, Abraham ten Dam, Willem te Gussinklo, and Wessel Becking.
Bernard Vaags went on his Wanderschaft (journeyman travels) to Germany, where he apprenticed with a horn turner in Ruhla (Thuringia). Upon returning to Aalten, he bought a simple foot-operated lathe and started the very first horn-turning workshop. In a small upper room of his parents’ shoemaking shop ‘in den Dijk aan de beek te Aalten’ (Dijkstraat 9), he made parts for German buffalo horn pipes. In 1860, Vaags married Dora Willemina Prins. She also became a horn turner and was known as Piepen Deurken. They moved to the house next to Bernard’s parents’ home (Dijkstraat 7).
Pipe turning was manual, pedal-operated, and skilled craftsmanship. Here is an example of an Aalten treadle lathe from 1880.
German pipes
Gerrit Peters, son of a tanner, also apprenticed in Thuringia after Bernard Vaags. From 1863, he worked on the Hogestraat. In 1866, Gerrit married the wealthy Josina Aleida te Gussinklo and moved into her home. The property covered the entire length of the Köstersbulte, from the living area on the Markt to the Landstraat, where he established his horn workshop. He produced long pipe stems and components for the German pipe. In Germany, porcelain pipe bowls were attached to the stems and the pipes were traded.
Combs
Comb factory Ten Dam & Manschot
After Vaags’ death in 1868, his successor, Abraham ten Dam, tackled the business thoroughly. The cottage industry became a proper factory at de Stegge. In 1871, he and his brother-in-law, Bernard Manschot, founded the comb factory Ten Dam & Manschot on the Damstraat.
It was the first and only factory in the Netherlands to make combs: white, black, and naturally coloured decorative combs, Mexican combs, nit combs, and moustache combs. These were made from buffalo horn, imported from countries including Brazil, India, and Thailand (then known as Siam). The manufacturing process generated even more dust and stench than pipe making.
A revolutionary development in the production process was the switch to steam power, replacing traditional hand and foot power. In local parlance, it became known as ‘d’n Kamstoom’ (the Comb Steam). By 1920, the comb factory employed about 200 people, including women and children.
Handles and knife hilts
German pipes, W. te Gussinklo
Willem te Gussinklo and Wessel Becking learned the tricks of the trade from Gerrit Peters. They worked together for a short time but separated in 1884. After the failed partnership, Wessel Becking continued in 1880 with Bernardus Gerhardus Vaags, a cousin and namesake of Bernard Vaags. Becking & Vaags made pipe stems and later also knife handles. When the sale of German pipes declined, the factory produced short briar pipes. The pipe factory in the Hoekstraat is still standing today!
Johannes Peters left his father’s workshop on the Köstersbult and, in 1896, formed a partnership with Marcus Gans, a Jewish merchant. Gans financed the firm called PEGA (Peters & Gans). The pipe factory stood next to Peters’ home on the then Gasthuisstraat (now Haartsestraat). In addition to German pipes for German reservists, walking sticks with horn handles were manufactured. After the factory burned down completely in 1917, Johannes Peters established his pipe factory on the Admiraal de Ruyterstraat. Instead of German pipes, they primarily produced briar pipes.
Buttons
Dutch Button Works, Bredevoort
After the failed partnership with Wessel Becking, Willem te Gussinklo made German pipes and handles for walking sticks and umbrellas. By 1900, companies in Germany and England had begun producing buttons from horn. With that example in mind, Willem started making horn buttons in 1905—a first for the Netherlands. Soon, his son Willem te Gussinklo Jr. (‘Piepkes Willem’) joined the firm, developing into an innovative entrepreneur.
Te Gussinklo’s first factory was at ‘t Dal in Aalten, the present-day Willemstraat. Due to the increasing demand for buttons, the company moved to the old Van Eijck weaving mill in Bredevoort in 1924. There, the production of buttons began. The international company N.V. Dutch Button Works (DBW) exported to England, Ireland, and America and was also the largest (horn) enterprise in Aalten.
After World War II, the production of horn buttons declined. In 1976, this last branch of horn processing was forced to close down. This marked the definitive end of 120 years of the horn industry in Aalten.
Video
Source: Euregionetwerk Industriecultuur
It rained pipe stems
Paulien Andriessen, a great-granddaughter of Gerrit Peters, became curious about her great-grandfather’s craft. He was the second horn turner in Aalten. Where had he learned the trade, and to whom did he sell those pipe stems? How did the Aalten horn turners and their successors fare?
“When I passed my final exams, my uncle gave me a pipe as a gift. My mother and my sisters smoked pipes, so I didn’t find it strange at all. It was a ladies’ pipe with a slender stem, a small white porcelain bowl, and a horn mouthpiece. I had to smoke it a few times, my uncle explained, and then a beautiful picture would appear on the pipe bowl. So, I started smoking quite heavily, as I was curious about that picture. It took a few pipes, but to my delight, my smoking habit was rewarded. A picture appeared. It was a little bird, a dove.”
In 2011, a book she authored was published by Fagus Publishers, titled ‘Het regende pijpenstelen, Honderd jaar hoornindustrie in Aalten’ (It Rained Pipe Stems: One Hundred Years of the Horn Industry in Aalten) (ISBN: 9789078202806)
The textile industry in Aalten was deeply rooted in the centuries-old tradition of domestic weaving and flax processing. In the 19th century, this craft grew into a flourishing industry, partly thanks to the establishment of German textile families such as the Driessens.
For centuries, flax was cultivated in the Achterhoek and the adjacent Westphalia region, from which linen was woven on farms. This cottage industry led to a lively cross-border trade in woven fabrics.
Numerous farm and street names in Aalten still recall this era, for example: de Weversborg, de Pellewever, de Bleeke, the Vlasspreideweg, and—due to the pure water—the Zilverbekendijk.
The arrival of the Driessens
Import duties on foreign fabrics were increased in 1823 to protect Dutch industry. German textile companies, including the firms Gebrüder Driessen and Peter Driessen & Sohn in Bocholt, moved to the Achterhoek. In 1826, they established themselves in Aalten.
With their arrival in 1826, 56 looms and approximately twenty families from Prussia also came to Aalten. Most of them settled here permanently.
Spinning flax on the spinning wheel
Growth of employment
The number of domestic weavers grew steadily. While the number was 292 in 1828, it had risen to 352 a year later, and in 1833 it was reported: ‘The fustian factories continued strongly, with the factories in Aalten typically employing approximately 630 weavers according to records. Both in this and in the surrounding municipalities of Winterswijk, Dinxperlo, Varsseveld, Lichtenvoorde, etc.’
The first factories
In 1829, there were two cotton mills in Aalten ‘which provide work for about 40 people’, including that of the Driessen brothers. In 1830, there were three, with approximately sixty employees.
On August 15, 1829, Jan Gerard Kraak ten Houten, ‘licensed shopkeeper and merchant in Aalten’, informed the Governor of Gelderland of his wish to establish ‘a fustian factory, spinning mill, dye works, and bleachery’ in his hometown, for which he requested permission. The municipal council had no objections to this establishment, ‘considering that the petitioner’s intention is only to have fustian manufactured by weavers at their homes, without erecting a spinning mill, bleachery, or dye works. This ensures sufficient work for the craftsman’, while no other interests are harmed. Ultimately, the King had to decide on the matter. Favorable advice was given by all advisors. It is not known how long this company existed or where it was located.
Sources
Geweven goed, the textile history of Aalten and Bredevoort H. de Beukelaer, J.G. ter Horst – Fagus, 1992
GROENLO — The Groenlo cantonal judge, Mr H. J. Steenbergen, was confronted yesterday afternoon with a modern-day Robin Hood. The youthful J. P. from Bredevoort had turned back the clock centuries and had been hunting in Aalten, armed with a bow and arrow. But since the days of Robin Hood have long since passed and legislation today is entirely different, he came into conflict with the hunting laws.
With this primitive weaponry, P. had terrorised a plot of woodland between the Walvoortweg, the Stationsstraat, and the Bredevoortsestraat. The forest is named Het Zwarte Woud (The Black Forest) — a name that fitted wonderfully with the adventurous atmosphere in which historians have shrouded the gallant followers of King Richard the Lionheart.
The Bredevoort archer had set his sights on creatures walking through life on two or four legs and on anything winged soaring through the air, but he went from hunter to hunted when the police caught him in their sights. It then appeared that P. was no true follower of the great hero from the exciting story. He dropped the bow and made off. However, he lacked the cunning and the speed of Robin Hood, who was always too slippery for his pursuers, and so P. — after handing his arrows to a friend — fell into the trap. His adventure was over.
Sheepish
P. looked at the cantonal judge sheepishly when the latter made him understand that he had made himself guilty of illegal hunting. That his game would have such far-reaching consequences and also financial repercussions took him by surprise. Somewhat crestfallen, he managed to blurt out that it was not hunting he was after, but purely the sport. The sensation that shooting with a bow and arrow provided him pushed the rules and regulations far into the background. “You did shoot at animals with it, though,” asked Mr Steenbergen. “Tried to, but I wasn’t very successful,” P. answered. He had bought the bow in Germany.
The cantonal judge had put the weapon to the test and had come to the conclusion that it was a dangerous piece of equipment. “The heavy arrows, tipped with a metal point, whizzed hard through the air,” he said. Mr Steenbergen also inquired why P. had run away. “Didn’t you feel very well?” he asked. “I don’t know,” P. stammered.
The public prosecutor, Mr J. Punt, was of the opinion that someone roaming the fields with such hunting gear is clearly hunting. He felt this deserved no encouragement, and in order to deter other Wilhelm Tell figures, he demanded a fine of 60 guilders or 6 days’ detention, and the forfeiture of the bow and arrows. The cantonal judge declared that P. would have acted more wisely by joining an archery association, and if such an opportunity had existed in Aalten, he would have been inclined to let P. keep the bow and arrow. However, that possibility does not exist, and therefore Mr Steenbergen deemed it necessary to confiscate the weapon. He sentenced P. to a fine of 30 guilders or 3 days.
In 1941, a young lady from Aalten had to answer to the cantonal court in Apeldoorn for ignoring a red traffic light… Huh, a what…?
“The next defendant to appear before the bar proved to be a true ‘Unschuld vom Lande’ (an innocent from the countryside). It was a young lady, G.H.H., of no occupation, from Aalten, who had been staying with her aunt in Apeldoorn for about ten days. And then it happened: she had cycled down the Hoofdstraat and had not given a thought to stopping for the red traffic light. After all, such automatic traffic controllers are unknown in rural Aalten!
Still, it seemed somewhat unbelievable that, in the year 1941, a young girl would never have seen a traffic light, and so it was asked from behind the green table whether the defendant had truly never been to a city. “Yes, in Winterswijk,” the girl said, “but they don’t have them there either.” It turned out she had never made any further journeys, not even to Arnhem or Bocholt. In view of this, she got away with a fine of f 3.”
Hoofdstraat, Apeldoorn, with a traffic light in the bottom left.
The glorious weather of the past few days—true summer weather, with plenty of sunshine and mild temperatures—is still luring many people out to the woods and heath. Walkers and those in more of a hurry, venturing out by bicycle, often choose the beautiful Zelhemseweg (the present-day Romienendiek, ed.), the old Hessenweg, for their excursions.
On Friday, there was something else to enjoy alongside the natural beauty. A number of young men were labouring along the soft, sandy road, pulling a cart laden with strange-looking contraptions. Pausing occasionally to catch their breath, they chatted and gestured animatedly. Clearly, something special was underway. Anyone wishing to satisfy their curiosity could only do so at the cost of a fair walk. The group pushed ever further, pulling or pushing with renewed zeal after every short rest. Upon reaching the Schaapskooi (sheepfold), the column turned right, and they halted at the edge of the woods on the heights above the flat, reclaimed terrain, where flowering lupins still painted bright, brilliant yellow spots on the brownish-grey surface here and there.
There was no more catching of breath. Now, busy activity: nimble hands carefully took the mysterious objects from the cart and laid them out meticulously on the beautiful heathland according to a set plan. Pliers, wrenches, bolts, and nuts were produced. With care and deliberation, the various items were connected; the work began to take shape. What was about to happen here?
A kind of sledge with a seat, and in front of it a swivelling stick where the feet could be placed. Behind that, a pair of upright tubes, firmly attached to the sledge. Next, it was the turn of a few large, flat pieces: a construction of tube and slats, covered with linen and paper, approximately 9 metres long and well over a metre wide. With combined effort, these pieces were placed on the upright tubes and secured with bolts. Tension wires ensured the correct alignment. The whole structure now took the shape of a large bird. All that remained was the tail, which was also soon attached, and before us stood a glider—perhaps not constructed to all requirements, but a very decent one nonetheless—with an elevator and rudder on the tail, albeit without ailerons on the rear of the wings.
Everything was checked thoroughly one last time, nuts were tightened again, tension wires were adjusted slightly, and then the first test was to be carried out. The tow cable—in this case, a number of inner tubes—was attached, the device was dragged to the edge of the slope, and the pilot took his place on the sledge. Feet on the ‘steering’, checking briefly if it worked, and yes, it worked fine. The rudders responded to the slightest pressure of the foot.
Aaltensche Courant, 5 October 1934
Now, the great moment had arrived. Expectations were high. Would it succeed? One part of the helpers positioned themselves behind the machine to hold it back; another part went to the tow cable and pulled, pulled with all their might to achieve the greatest possible tension. After all, the greater the speed at take-off, the greater the chance of lifting off the ground. The wind, too, played a part. However, it was nowhere to be seen; it was absolutely still.
They decided to give it a try regardless. The helpers pulled harder; one more tug, and with a whistling sound, the rubber cable, stretched to its limit, snapped. A mixture of sadness and amusement: sadness over the setback, amusement at the helpers who bit the dust, rolling down the slope head over heels. Soon, however, the cable was repaired. An experience richer, they started again, this time with a little less energy. Then the pilot’s command: “Let go.”
With a jerk, the contraption lurched forward and glided along the ground for a distance, even lifting slightly. But there was no talk of gliding yet. Back to the starting point. The elevator was adjusted to be a bit steeper, and they started again. And yes, it went better. The aircraft clearly lifted off the ground, but it landed somewhat uncomfortably a bit further on. Without too much damage, however.
Back to the starting point once more. The third time’s the charm. Once again, the helpers pulled with all their might, the command “Let go” sounded again, and again the bird surged forward, now with the elevator even steeper, and yes, now it was going up. This silent bird glided over a stream, but one of its wings struck a tree branch. The wing snapped off, and like a bird shot in flight, the machine slid down and hit the ground with a crash, irreparably damaged.
Months of labour in spare hours had been destroyed in one fell swoop. The still-usable material was dismantled and loaded back onto the handcart, and a less enthusiastic troop returned to the village. Less enthusiastic than on the way there, but the constructor, the 17-year-old electrician Bennink, was not discouraged. After all, it had worked! It must be possible with a home-built, but slightly better-constructed device of more stable build. Plans for this were already being made, and this indicates that we will likely see this enterprising young man make another attempt in some time. Taught by experience, a subsequent attempt will surely have a better chance of success.
De Graafschapbode, 3 October 1934
The builder of the glider, Jan Bennink, lived on the Kattenberg in Aalten. Ninety years later, a home-built glider by Jan Bennink was discovered near his childhood home, in the attic of a building on the Lichtenvoordsestraatweg where a friend of his lived at the time. Perhaps this friend hid it as a precaution shortly after the outbreak of World War II, after Bennink had been questioned at the police station about his flying hobby.
Wolf Hunt, 16th-century print by Etienne Delaune, Rijksmuseum Amsterdam
In 1937, G.H. Rots described how life used to be in Aalten in a series of articles in the Aaltensche Courant. Regarding wolf hunting, he wrote:
“Just as fox hunts are organised today to eradicate the few long-tailed creatures that remain, this was done in the past to exterminate a larger and more harmful predator. In the years when the population suffered greatly at the hands of marauding soldiers, the wolf was still a feared predator in these parts.
Imagine the situation in those days. Extensive forests, and in the lowlands, the farmsteads. Livestock grazed in the meadows, surrounded by woodland. The coppice also grew luxuriantly around the essen (es-lands). An eldorado for wildlife, therefore. The wolf went hunting, and the farmers’ dwindling livestock was also plagued by its natural enemy. Large drives were then organised.
Large nets were stretched out somewhere, and the game was driven into them, while the hunters lay in wait to bring down the prey with their guns, equipped with ‘pan and stone’ (flintlock mechanism). However, the wolves likely disappeared more due to advancing deforestation than through the hunts. Especially when the torch of war ceased to burn and the farming population settled everywhere, the wolves’ reign came to an end.”
June 1923
About a century ago, there were reports of a wolf present in the woods of ’t Walfort.
De Graafschapper, 12 June 1923
December 1847
During the night of 5 to 6 December, two ‘large dogs’ wreaked havoc in the sheep pen at Kortbeek farm in Heurne, Aalten.
Groninger Courant, 14 December 1847
Wolf hunt in the Achterhoek (1600)
Sources
‘From Aalten’s Past’, by G.H. Rots, Aaltensche Courant, 11 March 1938 (via Delpher)
AALTEN, 6 May 1920 – It was a busy day for Mr G. de Vries, director of the local butter factory. Together with his assistant, Mr Kempink, he had counted out ƒ 14,094.40 into bags and stored them in the safe. The money was intended to pay the milk suppliers the following morning. At the end of the day, De Vries was the last to leave the office, locking the door behind him. However, the safe remained open, with the key still in the lock.
The next morning, the money had vanished. The only sign of a break-in was a curtain cord hanging outside the window. Although the director had locked the office door, the windows facing the street could easily be slid open from the outside.
On 7 May, the Nieuwe Aaltensche Courant reported on the theft: “Last night, a sum of ƒ 14,000 was stolen from the safe of the Aaltensche Coöp. Zuivelfabriek (Dairy Factory). At the request of the police, we are not sharing further details.”
Investigation
In the months that followed, the media remained silent. Behind the scenes, however, intense work was being carried out on this sensational case. The marechaussee in Winterswijk conducted an investigation and arrested several suspects, who later had to be released due to a lack of evidence. Subsequently, the case was reinvestigated by the national, municipal, and military police, without success. Even a national constable-detective (rijksveldwachter-rechercheur) returned home empty-handed.
Finally, the investigation was assigned to Sergeant of the Marechaussee Woerts from Zutphen. Woerts went undercover, wandering through Aalten for a time as a vagrant, staying in a lodging house, and working at a factory. After gathering a wealth of information, secret agent Woerts—Evert Jan Woerts—travelled to Germany and managed to arrange for himself to be locked in a prison alongside a person who knew more about the matter…
This also yielded valuable information, leading to the arrest of two suspects: Gerrit Jan W. (29, a bricklayer’s labourer) from Enschede, formerly a resident of Aalten, and Hendrikus P. (28, a clog maker) from Aalten.
Gerrit Jan W. from E.
Several newspapers reported on the trial, which took place in December 1920 at the court in Zutphen. Gerrit Jan W. was the first to stand trial. He testified that he and co-defendant P. had climbed in through a window and stolen the bags of money from the safe. Once outside, they placed the bags into a large jute sack and went to W.’s house to count the money. There, P. gave the defendant ƒ 110 and left with the rest of the loot, approximately ƒ 14,000. P. was supposedly going to hide the remainder in the “Schaapsche hei” (perhaps referring to the Schaarsheide?). W. had burnt the bags that previously held the money.
The defence counsel, Mr C.C. de Jonge, pointed out that the defendant was an epileptic—the defendant actually suffered a seizure during the defence—and requested an evaluation of his mental faculties. According to him, P. was the primary perpetrator and had likely enticed W. At any rate, he urged for a lighter sentence.
The Public Prosecutor praised Wachtmeester Woerts, whose investigations and tactical approach had brought this defendant to a confession. In his view, it had been shown that this accused was the least guilty. Therefore, his sentence could be lighter; the Prosecutor demanded 1½ years’ imprisonment, with time served in pre-trial detention deducted.
Hendrikus P. from A.
Next, Hendrikus P. stood trial for complicity in the same case. P., however, denied everything. He stated that he had not been at W.’s house that evening, though he had been there eight days prior. P. had an alibi for the night in question: he had been home between 10:00 and 11:00 and was asleep. The following morning, he had cycled to “Heersen” (?). P. maintained that he had nothing to do with the burglary and that W. had cast suspicion on many people in this case. He also claimed that W.’s wife was unreliable.
Witness Hendrika Geessink, W.’s wife, testified that on the evening of 6 May, co-defendant P. came to fetch her husband, saying: “Gerrit, come with me, there’s something to be had at the butter factory,” or words to that effect. Her husband had initially refused, but after P. persisted, W. eventually went along. Whether it was exactly a quarter past eleven when P. arrived and one o’clock when they returned, the witness could no longer say for certain. When they returned, the witness was in bed, but she did see money and paper bags. She did not know the exact amount.
Butter factory Aalten, c. 1915
The witness confirmed that after 6 May, the whole family went to Enschede by car. German and Dutch currency was seized from her on 17 September. She denied that it amounted to 4,000 marks. It also appeared that she had purchased various items worth ƒ 800 after 1 May. Her husband had not told her everything, because: “no husband does that!” On 16 May, she had deposited 10,000 marks at a bank in Enschede. The witness claimed that this was money honestly earned by her husband.
Despite this, the Public Prosecution Service considered it proven that P. was the most guilty in this case and demanded three years’ imprisonment. The defence, however, contested the evidence; he deemed the testimony of W.’s wife unreliable. Furthermore, he pointed out the large expenditures made by the W. family after 6 May, arguing that nothing proved P.’s guilt. Since W. was constantly working on the factory grounds, it was more likely that W. would have gone to P. to fetch him. The defence therefore requested an acquittal for P.
Verdict
On 5 January 1921, the Court in Zutphen sentenced Hendrikus P. to 2 years and Gerrit Jan W. to 6 months’ imprisonment, with pre-trial detention deducted, for theft by climbing into the Aalten butter factory.
Notably, the defendants were not ordered to repay the stolen sum. Consequently, the butter factory had to bear the loss itself. Member of Parliament Weitkamp found this peculiar and asked the Minister of Justice if he was willing to “indemnify the owners of the butter factory on behalf of the State for the great financial disadvantage suffered due to the peculiar views of a judicial official?”
The Minister, however, was of the opinion that “it has not been shown that the owners of the stolen funds suffered financial loss due to any negligence by the judicial authorities” and therefore saw no reason to consider compensation.
Gerrit de Vries, director of the butter factory in Aalten (1939)
Sources
De Nieuwe Aaltensche Courant, 7 May 1920 (Delpher)
Mr P., in Aalten, possessed a magnificent specimen of a parrot that had mastered the art of speech. A few days ago, the animal flew away and kept itself near a farmhouse. The bird’s talking led the farmer to believe that a “miracle bird” was threatening his farm, and so, by means of his rifle, he put an end to the bird’s “tasty, eh?” once and for all!
De Graafschapbode, 31 August 1907
A few weeks ago, we also reported on a parrot that had escaped from Mr P. in Aalten and was later shot dead by a farmer who mistook it for a miracle bird. The news made the rounds in several newspapers, and as a result, Mr P. received a letter this week from a lady in The Hague who possessed a “lorry” (parrot) that she was eager to part with. She addressed the letter as follows: — “To Mr P….. in Aalten, where 3 weeks ago the parrot was shot dead.” — The post office, clever as it is, delivered the letter to the correct address, and the lady in question was informed of its safe arrival.
On the night of October 28, 1799, the lifeless body of 47-year-old Gesina te Winkel was found on the heath, near the border between the Aalten rural district of Haart and the German town of Barlo. She lay only a few minutes from her home and had multiple stab wounds. What had happened to her?
Gesina te Winkel was baptized in Aalten on April 30, 1752, as the daughter of Barent te Winkel and Enneken Dierkink.1 On April 20, 1777, she married Adolphus (Alof) Lensing2, who was later also called te Winkel. The couple lived at Gesina’s parental home, the ‘t Winkel farm in the Haart, only 800 meters away from the border with the then Bishopric of Münster, which is now part of the German state of North Rhine-Westphalia.
‘t Winkel farm in the Haart, photo: H. Schutte, 2024
The disappearance
On Sunday, October 27, 1799, around four o’clock in the afternoon, Gesina left home alone with a sandwich in her hand. She was on her way to the Möllers family to pick up some items of clothing. The Möllers lived just across the border in the Münsterland, about a fifteen-minute walk from ‘t Winkel.
When it began to get dark and Gesina had not yet returned, her husband Alof and their children began to worry. Where was she? Alof decided to go to the Möllers family’s house. He found three women there by the fire, who told him they had not seen Gesina that day.
Returning home, Alof wondered if his wife had encountered someone on the way or perhaps visited a neighbor. Upon arriving home, it turned out she was still not back. He then went out to search again, this time on the heath. When he could not find her there, he went to the Möllers’ house once more. The residents were already in bed, and when Alof knocked and asked about his wife again, the man and woman called out to him from bed that they had heard nothing of Gesina and that she had not been there that day.
Alof involved his nearest neighbor Hendrik te Kolste and the servant of his brother at Drenthel Schoppe, Harmen Swietink, in the search. Together they went out onto the heath once more to look for Gesina.
The discovery
By then it was pitch dark on the heath and they could see very little. Around midnight, one of them suddenly discovered something white. It turned out to be Gesina’s cap, with her lifeless body beside it. She was lying on her side; her feet were still warm, but the rest of her body was cold. She was found only five to ten minutes from her home. Alof had a cart brought and took her body home on it. He thought she had probably become unwell on the way and died as a result.
The following morning, Monday, October 28, Garrit Rensink, residing at the Beestmans Huisje farm in the Haart, reported to the court of the Seigniory of Bredevoort that the wife of his neighbor Alof te Winkel had been found dead on the heath the previous night.
Thereupon the court, accompanied by surgeon Steven Schaars, proceeded to ‘t Winkel. Upon examination of the body, it was determined that the woman had multiple stab wounds – three on her left side and two on her right side, presumably inflicted with a bayonet or a triangular object.
Apparently, they were not yet entirely convinced of the cause of death, because two days later the court went to ‘t Winkel again with Schaars for further investigation. During this, the deceased, who had already been placed in a coffin, was removed from the coffin and examined, whereby Schaars determined that the lower ribs on the right side were broken and that the wounds inflicted upon her had caused her death.
During interrogation, Alof, Hendrik, and Harmen stated that they initially thought they had found Gesina’s body on Dutch territory, but also that they had not been able to determine this properly due to the darkness. Upon further recollection, however, they were almost certain it must have been on Münster territory.
Hendrik and Harmen further stated that, as far as they knew, Alof te Winkel and his wife had a good relationship and that there was no question of disagreement or quarreling. They also stated that Gesina never quarreled with anyone, and that she “despite her years, looked very well.”
Arnoldus Obrink, a cooper in the Hoekstraat in Aalten, stated that he had seen Gesina around four o’clock that Sunday afternoon. He was walking on the road from Hunink to Aalten and Gesina was taking the road to the Münsterland, about 300 paces from her house. He had even spoken briefly with her while she was eating a sandwich. Furthermore, he had seen no one else in the vicinity.
An unconfirmed rumor
A rumor soon spread that Gesina had indeed been at the Möllers’ house that Sunday. According to the stories, a 13-year-old son of the family had been playing carelessly with a loaded gun, after which it accidentally went off and hit Gesina. It was even claimed that traces of the shot could still be seen in the chimney or near the hearth. However, there was no evidence for this rumor.
File to Bocholt
Because there was a strong suspicion that Gesina’s violent death had occurred on Münster territory, the drost of Bredevoort, Willem Paschen, sent a copy of the file to the court of Bocholt so that they could investigate this case further.5 Unfortunately, it is not known to us how this case ended. The tragic murder of Gesina te Winkel remains a mystery.
Funeral
In the Burial Register of the Dutch Reformed Congregation in Aalten, it is noted under October 1799: “deceased the 28th – Alof te Winkel his wife – buried the 31st” 6
On the early morning of January 12, 1770, the neighbors of the Vosheurne farm in Lintelo were startled by a disturbing report. “The aunt is dead, she is very bloody, she may well have smashed her head,” resident Harmen Brunsink shouted. Extensive forensic investigation by the Court of Bredevoort revealed a story of a family conflict that degenerated into murder and would end with a gruesome execution.
Tensions in the House
Hendersken Tannemaat, born in 1705, had lived on the Vosheurne her entire life. Her niece, Gijsberta Deemshof, born in 1739 in Doesburg as the daughter of Hendersken’s sister Johanna, was raised by her ‘moeje’ (aunt) Hendersken from the age of three. In 1761, Gijsberta married Harmen Brunsink, born in 1729 at the Bekink farm in IJzerlo. After their marriage, Harmen moved in with Gijsberta and her unmarried aunt at the Vosheurne.
Initially, Hendersken lived with the young couple in exchange for board. In June 1768, however, she transferred all her possessions to Harmen and Gijsberta in exchange for room and board and all necessary care for the rest of her life. This was a common arrangement at the time between elderly people and their children—in this case, her niece and husband. Harmen and Gijsberta solemnly promised to fulfill this obligation.
However, the relationship between Harmen and the aunt deteriorated over the years, and tensions arose in the house. The aunt reportedly told Harmen several times that she wanted to undo the agreement “because you treat me so poorly!”
A Mysterious Death
A box bed (photo for illustration)
On that fateful morning of January 12, 1770, Harmen frantically gathered the neighbors because the aunt was dead. It was customary in this region for neighbors to be called upon in the event of a death to arrange practical matters, such as the funeral and the ‘verhennekleden’—undressing the deceased and shrouding them in grave clothes. When the neighbor women entered the bedroom, they found Hendersken dead in her box bed, her hands folded over her chest. Her nose and arms were blue, and when her cap fell off, they discovered flour in her hair and blood seeping down her neck.
Gijsberta stated that she had used the flour to staunch the bleeding. Harmen added that the bruises were likely because the aunt suffered from scurvy, and that Hendersken had probably hit her head on the sharp edges of the bed plank. But the story did not add up. The neighbors did not trust it and brought the matter to the attention of the Court of Bredevoort.
The Investigation
Two days after Hendersken’s death, court officials arrived at the Vosheurne with two surgeons. Upon arrival, it appeared the body had already been coffined. In the presence of Harmen and Gijsberta, the surgeons examined the body. They discovered several severe injuries and bruises to the head. The injuries made it clear that an accident was out of the question. Suspicion immediately fell on Harmen and Gijsberta, who lived with Hendersken at the Vosheurne and could not provide a convincing account of what had happened.
Both suspects denied any involvement and claimed they had found Hendersken dead on the floor in front of her box bed that morning. They claimed to have placed her on the bed, sprinkled flour on her head to stop the bleeding, and put on her cap. However, their statements contradicted each other. Harmen had told the neighbors that he had found Hendersken dead in bed, not on the floor.
Voluntarily and without resistance, they went to Aalten, where they were taken into custody for further questioning. When the numerous head wounds were discussed, Harmen stated that these might have been the result of an epileptic seizure. Hendersken supposedly hit her head against the bed plank, the flax comb chair, the small chests, a trunk, or the beer stand. He also suggested that someone from outside the house could have broken in, as the house was in poor condition.
Further Investigation
On January 16, the Court, assisted by a doctor, a surgeon, and a prosecutor, returned to the Vosheurne with the suspects. Hendersken’s bedroom was meticulously examined.
The box bed showed a large bloodstain on the bed plank at the head end, as if the blood had splashed against the plank. But it had no sharp edges, as Harmen had claimed. Due to long-term use, the plank was actually rounded, and no sharp edges were found inside the box bed either. Other furniture in the room—small chests, a trunk, and a flax comb chair—showed no traces of blood. Nothing was found under the box bed either.
The doctor and the surgeon then examined the body even more closely. They stated primarily that there was a slight bruise on the nose, as well as severe bruising on both elbows, arms, and hands, beneath which coagulated, extravasated blood was found. These bruises could only have been caused by an external factor.
Not only on the right side of the head, at the level of the temple, were the external coverings and fleshy parts bruised, wounded, and destroyed down to the bone, but similar bruises and wounds were visible on the left side, albeit to a lesser extent. Two openings or wounds were discovered on the left side of the skull and one on the right, each about the size of a shilling. Upon loosening the external parts, it appeared that the skull had a fracture on the right side and that on the left side, the end of the skull bone was severely bent downwards and partially broken.
After sawing through and removing the skullcap, several ruptures were found. Due to these fractures and bone pressed outwards, the brain, particularly on the left side, was severely damaged. On both sides of the head, especially the left, extravasated blood was present on and under the dura mater and also within the brain itself. Furthermore, all blood vessels were completely filled with blood. This combination of injuries had inevitably caused her death.
Although the suspects continued to maintain their innocence, the suspicions raised against them were only strengthened by these findings. From the situation on-site and the condition of the corpse, there was no longer any doubt that a murder had been committed. Such a thing could not happen unnoticed in a small cottage like that of the suspects, while they claimed to know nothing. The suspects were then transferred to the prison in the Ambtshuis in Bredevoort.
Harmen’s Confession
During the subsequent interrogations, Harmen and Gijsberta initially stuck to their story: Hendersken had died in an accident. But the evidence against them mounted. On January 19, a week after the murder, Harmen broke under the pressure and confessed what had really happened: He stated that he acted alone, without the help of his wife. He had previously said to his wife in bed: “There lies such a small pebble, I shall strike her five or six times on the head with it, then she will be gone, then the quarreling will be out of the house, then we can live in peace and unity.”
Around four hours before sunrise, he had risen, lit the lamp, went to Hendersken’s room, and hung the lamp on a nail above the box bed. Upon entering the room, the aunt woke up from the light. Thereupon, Harmen jumped into bed with her, sat astride her, held her head with his left hand, and struck her five or six times on the head with the pebble with his right hand, until she lay dead under his hands.
Gijsberta reportedly tried to stop him, but without success. When the aunt was dead and bleeding heavily, he ordered his wife to sprinkle flour on her head and wash off the blood. Afterwards, he called the neighbors. The stone with which he had struck her, he threw into the ditch behind the oven, near the spot where they fetched water.
Statement of Gijsberta
Gijsberta made her confession on January 20 and 22. She stated regarding her unhappy marriage: “Oh, how unfortunate I am! I married my husband against the wishes of my entire family, and from the beginning of our marriage, he has lived poorly with me.”
In the early morning of January 12, her husband, before he even rose, had said to her: “I will no longer have the quarreling in the house, I want to take decisive action, I shall get a pebble, and give the Aunt but one blow to the head with it, then she will be gone, and then the quarreling will be out of the house.” She was very upset by this, but he tried to reassure her, kissed her, and said: “Do not be dismayed, let me take decisive action, she is an old person, then we can have a peaceful life.”
He even came to her bed with gin and said: “You must drink plenty of gin, and you must be half-drunk, otherwise you would be too dismayed; we must now bite through a sour apple; but you must never betray me, even if I should happen to die, and you get another husband, then you must never say to him that I murdered your own blood.”
She then said to him: “Could you bring yourself to kill my own flesh and blood; if it comes down to it, then I must say it,” to which he had replied: “I will nevertheless take decisive action, I want the quarreling out of the house.”
When her husband was already in the aunt’s room and began striking her, he called Gijsberta to come there. She then went to the room, grabbed his linen smock to pull him away from the aunt, and said: “Fie, fie, what are you doing!” She added that her husband had forced her to be present, saying: “otherwise you might go and report me later.”
Gijsberta also stated that she had long been afraid to lie in bed with him, fearing he would attack her with a knife. That night, too, a knife lay in his trousers in front of the bed. She therefore also said to him: ”I am afraid that you will do me harm.” To which he assured her: “Oh no, I will never do you harm.”
She also confessed that her husband could not bear it if she was kind to the aunt, and that she had had constant sorrow with her husband since the aunt lived with them.
Gijsberta stated from the outset that she did not help carry out this gruesome deed. She also did not know what her husband used to beat the aunt to death, only that in the morning, while fetching water in the ditch in front of the house by the willows, she saw a gray pebble lying in the water that had not been there before.
Both suspects finally confessed that the aunt had never suffered from epilepsy. The neighbors and friends had also never heard of it, except only after her death.
The Verdict
The Court of the Lordship of Bredevoort ruled that everything indicated that Harmen Brunsink, on the night of January 11 to 12, 1770, had murdered Hendersken Tannemaat, a defenseless person estimated to be nearly seventy years old, lying on her bed in his house, in a gruesome manner, deliberately and with premeditation. Gijsberta was charged with failing to dissuade her husband, where possible, from this abhorrent intention.
Harmen was sentenced to death: “to be brought to the place where criminal executions are customarily performed, and there to be bound by the executioner on a wooden cross, to have his legs and arms broken to pieces from the bottom up while alive, and thereafter to have his head severed with an axe. That, this having been done, his body shall subsequently be laid upon a wheel, standing on a post, and fastened thereto with chains, and his head set upon a spike above it, as a hideous example to others.” This punishment is called breaking on the wheel.
On February 10, the residents of Dinxperlo were summoned to the Hollenberg to erect the post and the wheel for the execution and to make the noose. Most refused or did not show up and were fined 30 thalers per person. 18 persons consented and erected the post and the wheel.
The sentence was carried out on the Hollenberg on February 12, 1770.
Gijsberta escaped the death penalty but was required to witness her husband’s execution. Subsequently, she was banished for life from the city and Lordship of Bredevoort. She remarried in 1776 in Silvolde to Jacob Kok and reportedly died in 1813.
Sources
Nieuwe Nederlandsche jaerboeken, of Vervolg der merkwaerdigste geschiedenissen, die voorgevallen zyn in de Vereenigde Provincien […]. Fifth volume. MDCCLXX, published by the heirs of F. Houttuyn in Amsterdam, P. van der Eyk and D. Vygh in Leiden, 1770 (link)
Klaas Nijman was baptized on January 16, 1698, in Dinxperlo as the son of Fredrik Nijman and Berentjen Eppink. At the age of fifteen, he left his parental home and began a wandering existence as a ‘beggar and vagabond’. In 1722, he was sentenced in Rhenen to a stay in a house of correction for violence and theft. His release was followed by banishment from the province of Utrecht.
Nijman then returned to the Achterhoek, where he sowed fear among the population, particularly in the vicinity of Dinxperlo and Aalten. He begged and stole, threatened people, and did not hesitate to use brute force. In 1729, he set fire to several houses and was arrested.
On October 3, 1729, following a trial in Bredevoort at ‘t Zand, Klaas Nijman was sentenced to death. He was taken to the Hollenberg, where he was strangled and subsequently set on fire. This gruesome punishment served as a deterrent to others. Nijman was 32 years old at the time.
Sentence
The following 18th-century text describes his crimes and sentence:
Pronounced in Bredevoort at ’t Sant, and executed outside on the Hollenborg, on Monday, October 3, 1729.
Verdict Klaas Nijman
In Criminal cases, before the Most Noble Court of the Lordship of Bredevoort, between the Advocate Fiscal of the aforementioned High Lordship, complainant of the one part, and KLAAS NYMAN, otherwise called KLAAS FREDERIKSEN, aged about 32 years, and born in the district of Bocholt, at the Heelweg, near Dinxperlo, defendant and prisoner of the other part, having seen and examined the inquisitorial procedure, with all attached information, confrontations, and evidence from A. to H. inclusive, furthermore the defendant’s declarations and confessions made outside of actual torture, and in which he has successively and at various times persisted, from which it has appeared:
That he, KLAAS NYMAN, since his fifteenth year has left his Parents and Birthplace, and has wandered the land as a beggar and vagabond. That he was also in the year 1722, for various acts of violence, thefts, and further insolences at Rhenen, flogged, branded, and committed for the term of six years to the House of Correction or public Workhouse at Utrecht, and after expiration banished from the Province and Lands of Utrecht for the term of his life, and never to return therein, upon pain of being punished with death.
That having been released from the aforementioned House of Correction or Workhouse about three-quarters of a year ago, yet the penalties of banishment remaining in force, he thereupon, or some time thereafter, returned to Dinxperlo, and continued in his bold beggaries and acts of violence. That he there, for a trifle on the public road near Dinxperlo, cut open the mouth of one DIRK WENSINK with a knife.
That he likewise, after his aforementioned release, again committed various thefts, such as of ironwork and an axe, and of linen, such as a pillowcase or sheet on the other side of Doesburg at the Steege; and also a shirt from the garden at HENDRIK te Loo or Kistershuis, between Dinxper and the Bredenbroek, and further as by the Reformations. That he, KLAAS NYMAN, has also for years past been notorious and held in suspicion by many inhabitants under Dinxperlo and Aalten, as being of no good and committing much evil.
That he also, following the . . . . of the sentence at Rhenen, was held suspect there of having committed very grave offenses. That the defendant, through his . . . . and malicious conduct and questionable language which he used here and there, has kept the good husbandman and the inhabitants in the countryside, and especially around Dinxperlo and Aalten and the surrounding area, in a state of constant anxiety and fear. That when he came to beg, he was not satisfied with what is ordinarily given to a beggar, although he was often given even more, and went away from the houses muttering to himself.
That this anxiety and fear among the inhabitants has doubled and reached its peak since fire broke out in the Parish of Aalten in this year 1729, and that further and even more burnings of houses close by followed. Such that several inhabitants ordered their people that, if KLAAS NYMAN came to their houses, they should just give him whatever he wanted, to gain his friendship and not to anger him, and that several people, out of fear of arsons, had to keep night watches at their houses during the night, whereby even some hamlets were placed in a state of near alarm.
That he, the defendant KLAAS NYMAN, is also the one who has come to such exceedingly wicked crimes that in the past Summer in the Parishes of Aalten and Dinxperlo, of this same year 1729, from June 13 to August 29, and thus within the span of a quarter-year, he has set fire to three houses, one after the other, and by no means the smallest, which houses were also totally burned down, and of which the corpora delictorum are known.
Namely, on June 13, the house at Lensink, under Aalten on the Esch at Yserlo, where he set a piece of white or spongy peat on fire by means of a tinderbox, flint, and tobacco pipe, and with that burning peat at the back on that side of the house where the wind was blowing against the house at the time, caused the fire. That eight days prior he had also set the same house Lensink on fire, and that it had already been burning, but that it was then still extinguished by the occupants.
Secondly, the house at Welink, also under Aalten on the Esch at Yserlo, on June 20, where he carried out the fire in the same manner as at Lensink with a piece of ignited spongy peat, and therewith set the house on fire from behind. That for both his arsons, at Lensink and Welink, he gives as his reason that he had done so to create anxiety and terror in the neighborhood, or among the people.
Thirdly, the house at Grevink, at ‘t Rexwinkel in the hamlet of Heurne, under Dinxperlo, on August 29, in the evening around 10 o’clock, when he caused the fire there with an ignited fuse made of linen rags, in the straw that lay at the back on the corner partition of the house. That in this aforementioned house Grevink, when it caught fire, a young woman in childbed, who had not yet been in childbed for two days, lay on the bed, and who by great fortune still having the strength to get off the bed, still escaped the fire. That he, KLAAS, gives as his reason for this arson at Grevink that he had done so because the same aforementioned woman in childbed, a long time ago when she was still unmarried, had given him a piece of pancake that had been too small for him.
That at Welink and at the last-mentioned Grevink, several pieces of live Cattle, harvested Grain crops, and further items were also burned and consumed. That he, the Defendant, is furthermore convicted by four sworn credible witnesses, although he himself has tried to deny it telle quelle, that on August 31 last he spoke those grim words at the house of ARENT OOSTENDORP, in the hamlet of Heurne, under Dinxperlo, that this or that corner would shortly be a poor corner.
That he furthermore has threatened to set fire to the house of the drummer boy within Dinxperlo, and has stood by and persisted in this, that if he had not been captured, he would indeed have done it, and similar terrible threats and dangerous utterances of the Defendant, as the information and confessions herein further set forth.
The highly-mentioned Court, keeping God and Justice before its eyes, doing right with the advice of impartial Legal Experts, declares the Defendant KLAAS NYMAN to have incurred the penalty of the Law, condemning him for the same in consideration of these three gruesome arsons, that he be brought to the usual place of Justice, fastened to a stake and somewhat strangled, and furthermore shall be burned, as a terrifying example to others.
Thus advised by us undersigned within Bredevoort, September 29, 1729.
(And was signed.)
H.J. TEN HAGEN and H.C. STUMPH
Source
Legal Treatises on Corporal Crimes by a prominent Legal Expert (Jan Jacob van Hasselt), published in Amsterdam by Hendrik Gartman, 1781 (link)
During the 17th and 18th centuries, over two hundred men from Aalten and Bredevoort enlisted on ships of the Dutch East India Company (VOC). Some were still minors; many never returned. What prompted them to trade the rural Achterhoek for a dangerous sea voyage to the East, thousands of kilometers from home?
The VOC and its administration
The VOC (1602–1795) was the world’s first multinational and grew into a powerful colonial enterprise with trade monopolies and its own military force. In nearly two hundred years, over 4,700 ships departed for Asia. In the 18th century alone, approximately 655,000 people were aboard VOC ships.1 Only a small portion came from the Achterhoek. From the records, we know over 200 names of men from Aalten and Bredevoort who entered the service of the VOC.
That we know this is thanks to the meticulous personnel administration. Personal details, roles, ships, destinations, and the reason for leaving service were recorded in the so-called ship’s pay ledgers. These sources have largely been preserved and can be consulted online via the website of the National Archives. The table at the bottom of this article was compiled based on these records. 2
Aalten and the VOC: involved from the beginning
The involvement of Aalten residents with the VOC did not only begin when men enlisted as soldiers or sailors. An Aalten native played a notable role as early as its founding in 1602. Wessel Schenk, born in Aalten and later a merchant in Amsterdam, invested 30,000 guilders in the new company at that time. This made him one of the largest shareholders of the VOC. 3
The service was risky: more than half died en route or in Asia, while only a third demonstrably returned alive. Enlistments took place throughout the 17th and 18th centuries, with slight peaks in the 1720s and 1760–70.
Optical print of Batavia in 1780 (source: Wikipedia)
Motives for departure
Why did these men choose an uncertain existence at sea? For many, it was a matter of poverty or a lack of prospects: a steady income with the VOC offered security. For others, the urge for adventure and independence played a role, a chance to see the world and escape the constraints of rural life. 4
Military roles
Nearly half of the men from Aalten and Bredevoort held a military position. Until 1755, there was a garrison in Bredevoort5, which may have played a role in this. For military personnel, the VOC presumably offered the opportunity to utilize their experience with weapons and discipline, often for better pay and with more career prospects. At the same time, it is equally possible that men with experience in the civic guard were deployed for such roles. The departure of the garrison from Bredevoort seems to have had no demonstrable influence on the number of enlistments.
Names and data
The table below contains the details of individuals from Aalten and Bredevoort who were in the service of the VOC. Some individuals are listed multiple times because they made several voyages. This table is not flawless and is likely not exhaustive. For some individuals, it is not certain that they actually originated from Aalten or Bredevoort, as the origin is sometimes difficult to read and spelling varies. Partly for this reason, names are undoubtedly missing, but possibly also because parts of the administration have been lost.
The 📜 behind each name contains a link to the relevant entry in the National Archives, where the scan of the original document can also be viewed. A 🌳 refers to the family tree of the person in question on FamilySearch (free account required), where known – work in progress!
From historical sources, we know that Aalten was mentioned in 1152 as the parish of Aladon.1 However, there are indications that the village may have been mentioned much earlier, namely as Aladna in a charter from 828.2 Whether this mention actually refers to the current Aalten is still a subject of discussion. Nevertheless, archaeologists consider such an early dating certainly possible. Indeed, traces of human habitation from that time have been found both at De Hoven and on Damstraat.3 In this article, we delve into this ancient mention and examine two different theories.
The deed of gift of Geroward
The charter from 828 describes how, on February 7 of that year, a certain Geroward donated all his possessions, including those in Aladna, to the St. Martin’s Church in ‘Traiectum Veteri’ (Utrecht). Little is known about Geroward’s identity, but he must have been a man of standing. He was presumably a Frankish nobleman in the service of the Carolingian Emperor Louis the Pious, son of Charlemagne.
The original charter has not been preserved. What we know about it comes from later copies and transcriptions. The most important source is the ‘Cartulary of Radboud’, compiled in the Abbey of Egmond in the 12th or 13th century. This register contains copies of charters related to the Diocese of Utrecht. Later, this collection was included in the ‘Oorkondenboek van het Sticht Utrecht tot 1301’, compiled by S. Muller Fz. and H.T. Obreen.
Below are the Latin text and the English translation of the charter in question.
Source text
Dum unusquisque presens seculum inhabitat, necessitate nimia cogitur, ut finem suum Dei solo judicio previdere et preoccupare bonis operibus studeat, ne eum inopinata et improvisa mors inveniat.
Idcirco ego Gerouuardus, filius Landuuardi, trado ad ecclesiam sancti Martini, in Traiecto Veteri constituta[m], quicquid mihi hereditatis jure accessit in villa Langhara et in Ellenuuih et in Aladna et in Uuazefelde et in Humelle et in Theodon et in Hesim et in Asnon, cum omnibus adjacentiis, pratis, pascuis, silvis, aquis aquarumve decursibus, necnon et mancipia, quorum hec existunt vocabula: Feginuuard et uxor ejus Liutburn, Meginrauan et uxor ejus Vuerinhild, Albuuard et mater ejus Sigiuuih, Uulfbald et Hadagrim, Grimbald et uxor ejus Adaluuih, Garoberd et uxor ejus Folcuuihc, Arnolf et uxor ejus Adalgard, Saxani et uxor ejus Harduuih Vuerinbald et mater ejus Gerild, Heiegbrath et uxor ejus Meginfrid, Vuarbald et uxor ejus Geruuih, Adalgod et Marcuui, Saxini et Radini, Vulfini et uxor ejus Liuduuar, Odilgard et filius ejus Heriman, Aldric et filius ejus Landric, Gelo et Marcrad, Hungrim et uxor ejus Liuduuih, Aluuih et Seolo, Egbald et Tadhild.
Acta est autem publice in villa Embrici, anno XV imperii domni Hludouuici imperatoris, incarnationis vero Dominice anno DCCCXXVIII, die VII Idus Februarii, coram testibus, qui hanc traditionem presentialiter confirmatam viderunt similiter et vestituram, quorum nomina subter notantur.
Ego Geraccarus jubente domno meo Friderico episcopo scripsi et subscripsi.
Translation
While every man dwells in this earthly life, he is driven by a great necessity to foresee his end only through God’s judgment and to prepare for it through good works, lest death overtake him unexpectedly and unprepared.
Therefore, I, Geroward, son of Landward, transfer to the church of Saint Martin, located in Old Traiectum, everything that has come to me by hereditary right in the villages of Langhara, Ellenwih, Aladna, Wazefelde, Humelle, Theodon, Hesim, and Asnon, with all associated lands, meadows, pastures, forests, waters, and watercourses.
Likewise, I transfer the serfs, whose names are as follows: Feginward and his wife Liutburn, Meginravan and his wife Werinhild, Albward and his mother Sigiwih, Wulfbald and Hadagrim, Grimbald and his wife Adalwih, Garoberd and his wife Folcwih, Arnolf and his wife Adalgard, Saxani and his wife Hardwih, Werinbald and his mother Gerild, Heiegbrath and his wife Meginfrid, Warbald and his wife Gerwih, Adalgod and Marcwi, Saxini and Radini, Wulfini and his wife Liudwar, Odilgard and her daughter Heriman, Aldric and his son Landric, Gelo and Marcrad, Hungrim and his wife Liudwih, Alwih and Seolo, Egbald and Tadhild.
This transfer took place publicly in the settlement of Embrici, in the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Louis(Hludowicus), and in the year 828 after the incarnation of our Lord, on February 7, in the presence of witnesses who confirmed this transfer and the associated settlement. Their names are listed below.
I, Geraccarus, have written and signed this by order of my lord, Bishop Frederick.
Where was ‘Aladna’ located?
There are two theories regarding the exact location of the places mentioned in the charter:
The Hamaland theory: According to this view, Geroward’s possessions were located in the area that would later become known as the Carolingian county of Hamaland. The place names mentioned in the deed are linked by historians to contemporary locations in the Liemers and the Achterhoek. Within this theory, ‘Aladna’ is identified as the current Aalten.
The North French theory: Another interpretation suggests that the mentioned places were not in the Netherlands, but in Northern France. In this scenario, Aladna would refer to the current Alette, a place in the Pas-de-Calais department. The other place names from the charter would also be located in this area. 4
Interpretations of the place names in both theories:
In the eastern regions of the Netherlands, however, it is assumed that the Hamaland theory is the most likely. It is not without reason that the municipality of Aalten named a road after this mention: the Aladnaweg. And in the municipality of Montferland, a street is named after Geroward: the Gerwardstraat in Klein-Azewijn. The theory is centuries old: around 1730, Johann Friedrich Falken created a historical map of ‘the Netherlands in late Roman times’, on which he drew the county of Hamaland, including Aladna.
Map of the former county of Hamaland in late Roman times, created by Johann Friedrich Falken, ca. 1730 5
Conclusion
The mention of Aladna in 828 remains an interesting subject of discussion. Many people consider the Hamaland theory to be the most likely explanation (or is that perhaps mainly wishful thinking?), but the North French interpretation cannot be entirely ruled out. Hopefully, future archaeological and historical research can provide more clarity regarding this early mention.
Origin of the place name
Several theories circulate regarding the origin of the name Aalten. But what are they based on and how credible are they? Oud Aalten delved into history to discover more about this.
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