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Title: Knickerbocker's History of New York, Complete

Author: Washington Irving

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Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY OF NEW YORK, COMPLETE ***

KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY
OF NEW YORK

COMPLETE

BY

WASHINGTON IRVING
CHICAGO

W.B. CONKEY COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

CONTENTS
KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY OF NEW YORK—VOLUME I

INTRODUCTION
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
Notices
ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR
TO THE PUBLIC
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
BOOK II
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
BOOK III
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX
BOOK IV
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V

KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY OF NEW YORK—VOLUME II

INTRODUCTION
HISTORY OF NEW YORK—BOOK IV (Cont'd.)
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
BOOK V
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
BOOK VI
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
BOOK VII
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII

[Transcriber's note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been
retained in this etext.]

INTRODUCTION.

KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY OF NEW YORK is the book, published
in December, 1809, with which Washington Irving, at the age of twenty-six,
first won wide credit and influence. Walter Scott wrote to an American
friend, who sent him the second edition——
"I beg you to accept my best thanks for the uncommon degree of
entertainment which I have received from the most excellently jocose
History of New York. I am sensible that, as a stranger to American parties
and politics, I must lose much of the concealed satire of the piece, but I
must own that, looking at the simple and obvious meaning only, I have
never read anything so closely resembling the style of Dean Swift as the
annals of Diedrich Knickerbocker. I have been employed these few
evenings in reading them aloud to Mrs. S. and two ladies who are our
guests, and our sides have been absolutely sore with laughing. I think, too,
there are passages which indicate that the author possesses powers of a
different kind, and has some touches which remind me much of Sterne."
Washington Irving was the son of William Irving, a sturdy native of the
Orkneys, allied to the Irvines of Drum, among whose kindred was an old
historiographer who said to them, "Some of the foolish write themselves
Irving." William Irving of Shapinsha, in the Orkney Islands, was a petty
officer on board an armed packet ship in His Majesty's service, when he
met with his fate at Falmouth in Sarah Sanders, whom he married at
Falmouth in May, 1761. Their first child was buried in England before July,
1763, when peace had been concluded, and William Irving emigrated to
New York with his wife, soon to be joined by his wife's parents.
At New York William Irving entered into trade, and prospered fairly until
the outbreak of the American Revolution. His sympathy, and that of his
wife, went with the colonists. On the 19th of October, 1781, Lord
Cornwallis, with a force of seven thousand men, surrendered at Yorktown.
In October, 1782, Holland acknowledged the independence of the United

States in a treaty concluded at The Hague. In January, 1783, an armistice
was concluded with Great Britain. In February, 1783, the independence of
the United States was acknowledged by Sweden and by Denmark, and in
March by Spain. On the 3rd of April in that year an eleventh child was born
to William and Sarah Irving, who was named Washington, after the hero
under whom the war had been brought to an end. In 1783 the peace was
signed, New York was evacuated, and the independence of the United
States acknowledged by England.
Of the eleven children eight survived. William Irving, the father, was rigidly
pious, a just and honorable man, who made religion burdensome to his
children by associating it too much with restrictions and denials. One of
their two weekly half-holidays was devoted to the Catechism. The mother's
gentler sensibility and womanly impulses gave her the greater influence;
but she reverenced and loved her good husband, and when her youngest
puzzled her with his pranks, she would say, "Ah, Washington, if you were
only good!"
For his lively spirits and quick fancy could not easily be subdued. He would
get out of his bed-room window at night, walk along a coping, and climb
over the roof to the top of the next house, only for the high purpose of
astonishing a neighbor by dropping a stone down his chimney. As a young
school-boy he came upon Hoole's translation of Ariosto, and achieved in his
father's back yard knightly adventures. "Robinson Crusoe" and "Sindbad
the Sailor" made him yearn to go to sea. But this was impossible unless he
could learn to lie hard and eat salt pork, which he detested. He would get
out of bed at night and lie on the floor for an hour or two by way of
practice. He also took every opportunity that came in his way of eating the
detested food. But the more he tried to like it the nastier it grew, and he
gave up as impracticable his hope of going to sea. He fastened upon
adventures of real travelers; he yearned for travel, and was entranced in his
youth by first sight of the beauties of the Hudson River. He scribbled jests
for his school friends, and, of course, he wrote a school-boy play. At sixteen
his schooling was at an end, and he was placed in a lawyer's office, from
which he was transferred to another, and then, in January, 1802, to another,
where he continued his clerkship with a Mr. Hoffman, who had a young
wife, and two young daughters by a former marriage. With this family
Washington Irving, a careless student, lively, clever, kind, established the

happiest relations, of which afterwards there came the deep grief of his life
and a sacred memory.
Washington Irving's eldest brothers were beginning to thrive in business. A
brother Peter shared his frolics with the pen. His artist pleasure in the
theater was indulged without his father's knowledge. He would go to the
play, come home for nine o'clock prayers, go up to bed, and climb out of his
bed-room window, and run back and see the after-piece. So come evasions
of undue restraint. But with all this impulsive liveliness, young Washington
Irving's life appeared, as he grew up, to be in grave danger. When he was
nineteen, and taken by a brother-in-law to Ballston springs, it was
determined by those who heard his incessant night cough that he was "not
long for this world." When he had come of age, in April, 1804, his brothers,
chiefly his eldest brother, who was prospering, provided money to send him
to Europe that he might recover health by restful travel in France, Italy and
England. When he was helped up the side of the vessel that was to take him
from New York to Bordeaux, the captain looked at him with pity and said,
"There's a chap who will go overboard before we get across." But
Washington Irving returned to New York at the beginning of the year 1806
with health restored.
What followed will be told in the Introduction to the other volume of this
History of New York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker.
H.M.

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.

The following work, in which, at the outset, nothing more was
contemplated than a temporary jeu-d'esprit, was commenced in company
with my brother, the late Peter Irving, Esq. Our idea was to parody a small
hand-book which had recently appeared, entitled, "A Picture of New York."
Like that, our work was to begin an historical sketch; to be followed by
notices of the customs, manners and institutions of the city; written in a
serio-comic vein, and treating local errors, follies and abuses with good-
humored satire.
To burlesque the pedantic lore displayed in certain American works, our
historical sketch was to commence with the creation of the world; and we
laid all kinds of works under contribution for trite citations, relevant or
irrelevant, to give it the proper air of learned research. Before this crude
mass of mock erudition could be digested into form, my brother departed
for Europe, and I was left to prosecute the enterprise alone.
I now altered the plan of the work. Discarding all idea of a parody on the
"Picture of New York," I determined that what had been originally intended
as an introductory sketch should comprise the whole work, and form a
comic history of the city. I accordingly moulded the mass of citations and
disquisitions into introductory chapters, forming the first book; but it soon
became evident to me that, like Robinson Crusoe with his boat, I had begun
on too large a scale, and that, to launch my history successfully, I must
reduce its proportions. I accordingly resolved to confine it to the period of
the Dutch domination, which, in its rise, progress and decline, presented
that unity of subject required by classic rule. It was a period, also, at that
time almost a terra incognita in history. In fact, I was surprised to find how
few of my fellow-citizens were aware that New York had ever been called
New Amsterdam, or had heard of the names of its early Dutch governors, or
cared a straw about their ancient Dutch progenitors.

This, then, broke upon me as the poetic age of our city; poetic from its very
obscurity, and open, like the early and obscure days of ancient Rome, to all
the embellishments of heroic fiction. I hailed my native city as fortunate
above all other American cities in having an antiquity thus extending back
into the regions of doubt and fable; neither did I conceive I was committing
any grievous historical sin in helping out the few facts I could collect in this
remote and forgotten region with figments of my own brain, or in giving
characteristic attributes to the few names connected with it which I might
dig up from oblivion.
In this, doubtless, I reasoned like a young and inexperienced writer,
besotted with his own fancies; and my presumptuous trespasses into this
sacred, though neglected, region of history have met with deserved rebuke
from men of soberer minds. It is too late, however, to recall the shaft thus
rashly launched. To any one whose sense of fitness it may wound, I can
only say with Hamlet——

"Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts
That I have shot my arrow o'er the house,
And hurt my brother."

I will say this in further apology for my work: that if it has taken an
unwarrantable liberty with our early provincial history, it has at least turned
attention to that history, and provoked research. It is only since this work
appeared that the forgotten archives of the province have been rummaged,
and the facts and personages of the olden time rescued from the dust of
oblivion, and elevated into whatever importance they may actually possess.
The main object of my work, in fact, had a bearing wide from the sober aim
of history, but one which, I trust, will meet with some indulgence from
poetic minds. It was to embody the traditions of our city in an amusing
form; to illustrate its local humors, customs and peculiarities; to clothe
home scenes and places and familiar names with those imaginative and
whimsical associations so seldom met with in our new country, but which
live like charms and spells about the cities of the old world, binding the
heart of the native inhabitant to his home.

In this I have reason to believe I have in some measure succeeded. Before
the appearance of my work the popular traditions of our city were
unrecorded; the peculiar and racy customs and usages derived from our
Dutch progenitors were unnoticed, or regarded with indifference, or
adverted to with a sneer. Now they form a convivial currency, and are
brought forward on all occasions; they link our whole community together
in good-humor and good-fellowship; they are the rallying points of home
feeling; the seasoning of our civic festivities; the staple of local tales and
local pleasantries; and are so harped upon by our writers of popular fiction
that I find myself almost crowded off the legendary ground which I was the
first to explore by the host who have followed in my footsteps.
I dwell on this head because, at the first appearance of my work, its aim and
drift were misapprehended by some of the descendants of the Dutch
worthies, and because I understand that now and then one may still be
found to regard it with a captious eye. The far greater part, however, I have
reason to flatter myself, receive my good-humored picturings in the same
temper with which they were executed; and when I find, after a lapse of
nearly forty years, this haphazard production of my youth still cherished
among them; when I find its very name become a "household word," and
used to give the home stamp to everything recommended for popular
acceptation, such as Knickerbocker societies, Knickerbocker insurance
companies, Knickerbocker steamboats, Knickerbocker omnibuses,
Knickerbocker bread, and Knickerbocker ice; and when I find New Yorkers
of Dutch descent priding themselves upon being "genuine Knickerbockers,"
I please myself with the persuasion that I have struck the right chord; that
my dealings with the good old Dutch times, and the customs and usages
derived from them, are n harmony with the feelings and humors of my
townsmen; that I have opened a vein of pleasant associations and quaint
characteristics peculiar to my native place, and which its inhabitants will
not willingly suffer to pass away; and that, though other histories of New
York may appear of higher claims to learned acceptation, and may take their
dignified and appropriate rank in the family library, Knickerbocker's history
will still be received with good-humored indulgence, and be thumbed and
chuckled over by the family fireside.
Sunnyside, 1848.

W.I.

Notices.
WHICH APPEARED IN THE NEWSPAPERS PREVIOUS TO THE
PUBLICATION OF THIS WORK.

From the "Evening Post" of October 26, 1809.
DISTRESSING.
Left his lodgings some time since, and has not since been heard of, a small
elderly gentleman, dressed in an old black coat and cocked hat, by the name
of Knickerbocker. As there are some reasons for believing he is not entirely
in his right mind, and as great anxiety is entertained about him, any
information concerning him, left either at the Columbian Hotel, Mulberry
Street, or at the office of this paper, will be thankfully received.
P.S.—Printers of newspapers will be aiding the cause of humanity in giving
an insertion to the above.

From the same, November 6, 1809.
To the Editor of the "Evening Post."
SIR,—Having read, in your paper of the 26th of October last, a paragraph
respecting an old gentleman by the name of Knickerbocker, who was
missing from his lodgings; if it would be any relief to his friends, or furnish
them with any clue to discover where he is, you may inform them that a
person answering the description given was seen by the passengers of the
Albany stage, early in the morning, about four or five weeks since, resting
himself by the side of the road, a little above King's Bridge. He had in his
hand a small bundle tied in a red bandana handkerchief: he appeared to be
traveling northward, and was very much fatigued and exhausted.
A TRAVELER.

From the same, November 16, 1809.
To the Editor of the "Evening Post."
SIR,—You have been good enough to publish in your paper a paragraph
about Mr. Diedrich Knickerbocker, who was missing so strangely some
time since. Nothing satisfactory has been heard of the old gentleman since;
but a very curious kind of a written book has been found in his room, in his
own handwriting. Now, I wish you to notice him, if he is still alive, that if
he does not return and pay off his bill for boarding and lodging, I shall have
to dispose of his book to satisfy me for the same.
I am, Sir, your humble servant,
SETH HANDASIDE,
Landlord of the Independent Columbian Hotel,
Mulberry Street.

From the same, November 28, 1809.
LITERARY NOTICE.
INSKEEP and BRADFORD have in the press, and will shortly publish,
A History of New York,
In two volumes, duodecimo. Price three dollars.
Containing an account of its discovery and settlement, with its internal
policies, manners, customs, wars, &c. &c., under the Dutch government,
furnishing many curious and interesting particulars never before published,
and which are gathered from various manuscript and other authenticated
sources, the whole being interspersed with philosophical speculations and
moral precepts.
This work was found in the chamber of Mr. Diedrich Knickerbocker, the
old gentleman whose sudden and mysterious disappearance has been
noticed. It is published in order to discharge certain debts he has left behind.

From the "American Citizen" December 6, 1809.
Is this day published,
By INSKEEP and BRADFORD, No. 128, Broadway,
A History of New York,
&c. &c.
(Containing same as above.)

ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR

It was some time, if I recollect right, in the early part of the fall of 1808,
that a stranger applied for lodgings at the Independent Columbian Hotel in
Mulberry Street, of which I am landlord. He was a small, brisk-looking old
gentleman, dressed in a rusty black coat, a pair of olive velvet breeches, and
a small cocked hat. He had a few gray hairs plaited and clubbed behind, and
his beard seemed to be of some eight-and-forty hours' growth. The only
piece of finery which he bore about him was a bright pair of square silver
shoe-buckles; and all his baggage was contained in a pair of saddle-bags,
which he carried under his arm. His whole appearance was something out
of the common run; and my wife, who is a very shrewd little body, at once
set him down for some eminent country schoolmaster.
As the Independent Columbian Hotel is a very small house, I was a little
puzzled at first where to put him; but my wife, who seemed taken with his
looks, would needs put him in her best chamber, which is genteelly set off
with the profiles of the whole family, done in black, by those two great
painters, Jarvis and Wood: and commands a very pleasant view of the new
grounds on the Collect, together with the rear of the Poor House and
Bridewell, and the full front of the Hospital; so that it is the cheerfulest
room in the whole house.
During the whole time that he stayed with us, we found him a very worthy,
good sort of an old gentleman, though a little queer in his ways. He would
keep in his room for days together, and if any of the children cried, or made
a noise about his door, he would bounce out in a great passion, with his
hands full of papers, and say something about "deranging his ideas;" which
made my wife believe sometimes that he was not altogether compos.
Indeed, there was more than one reason to make her think so, for his room
was always covered with scraps of paper and old mouldy books, lying about
at sixes and sevens, which he would never let anybody touch; for he said he
had laid them all away in their proper places, so that he might know where

to find them; though, for that matter, he was half his time worrying about
the house in search of some book or writing which he had carefully put out
of the way. I shall never forget what a pother he once made, because my
wife cleaned out his room when his back was turned, and put everything to
rights; for he swore he would never be able to get his papers in order again
in a twelve-month. Upon this my wife ventured to ask him, what he did
with so many books and papers? and he told her, that he was "seeking for
immortality"; which made her think, more than ever, that the poor old
gentleman's head was a little cracked.
He was a very inquisitive body, and when not in his room was continually
poking about town, hearing all the news, and prying into everything that
was going on; this was particularly the case about election time, when he
did nothing but bustle about him from poll to poll, attending all ward
meetings and committee-rooms; though I could never find that he took part
with either side of the question. On the contrary, he would come home and
rail at both parties with great wrath—and plainly proved one day to the
satisfaction of my wife, and three old ladies who were drinking tea with her,
that the two parties were like two rogues, each tugging at the skirt of the
nation; and that in the end they would tear the very coat off its back, and
expose its nakedness. Indeed, he was an oracle among the neighbors, who
would collect around him to hear him talk of an afternoon, as he smoked his
pipe on the bench before the door; and I really believe he would have
brought over the whole neighborhood to his own side of the question, if
they could ever have found out what it was.
He was very much given to argue, or, as he called it, philosophize, about the
most trifling matter, and to do him justice, I never knew anybody that was a
match for him, except it was a grave-looking old gentleman who called now
and then to see him, and often posed him in an argument. But this is nothing
surprising, as I have since found out this stranger is the city librarian; and,
of course, must be a man of great learning; and I have my doubts if he had
not some hand in the following history.
As our lodger had been a long time with us, and we had never received any
pay, my wife began to be somewhat uneasy, and curious to find out who and
what he was. She accordingly made bold to put the question to his friend
the librarian, who replied, in his dry way, that he was one of the Literati;

which she supposed to mean some new party in politics. I scorn to push a
lodger for his pay, so I let day after day pass on without dunning the old
gentleman for a farthing; but my wife, who always takes these matters on
herself, and is, as I said, a shrewd kind of a woman, at last got out of
patience, and hinted, that she thought it high time "some people should have
a sight of some people's money." To which the old gentleman replied in a
mighty touchy manner, that she need not make herself uneasy, for that he
had a treasure there (pointing to his saddle-bags) worth her whole house put
together. This was the only answer we could ever get from him; and as my
wife, by some of those odd ways in which women find out everything,
learnt that he was of very great connections, being related to the
Knickerbockers of Scaghtikoke, and cousin german to the Congressman of
that name, she did not like to treat him uncivilly. What is more, she even
offered, merely by way of making things easy, to let him live scot-free, if he
would teach the children their letters; and to try her best and get her
neighbors to send their children also; but the old gentleman took it in such
dudgeon, and seemed so affronted at being taken for a schoolmaster, that
she never dared to speak on the subject again.
About two months ago, he went out of a morning, with a bundle in his hand
—and has never been heard of since. All kinds of inquiries were made after
him, but in vain. I wrote to his relations at Scaghtikoke, but they sent for
answer, that he had not been there since the year before last, when he had a
great dispute with the Congressman about politics, and left the place in a
huff, and they had neither heard nor seen anything of him from that time to
this. I must own I felt very much worried about the poor old gentleman; for
I thought something bad must have happened to him, that he should be
missing so long, and never return to pay his bill. I therefore advertised him
in the newspapers, and though my melancholy advertisement was published
by several humane printers, yet I have never been able to learn anything
satisfactory about him.
My wife now said it was high time to take care of ourselves, and see if he
had left anything behind in his room, that would pay us for his board and
lodging. We found nothing, however, but some old books and musty
writings, and his pair of saddle-bags; which, being opened in the presence
of the librarian, contained only a few articles of worn-out clothes and a
large bundle of blotted paper. On looking over this, the librarian told us, he

had no doubt it was the treasure which the old gentleman had spoke about;
as it proved to be a most excellent and faithful History of New York, which
he advised us by all means to publish; assuring us that it would be so
eagerly bought up by a discerning public, that he had no doubt it would be
enough to pay our arrears ten times over. Upon this we got a very learned
schoolmaster, who teaches our children, to prepare it for the press, which he
accordingly has done; and has, moreover, added to it a number of notes of
his own; and an engraving of the city, as it was at the time Mr.
Knickerbocker writes about.
This, therefore, is a true statement of my reasons for having this work
printed, without waiting for the consent of the author; and I here declare,
that if he ever returns (though I much fear some unhappy accident has
befallen him), I stand ready to account with him like a true and honest man.
Which is all at present——
From the public's humble servant,
SETH HANDASIDE.
INDEPENDENT COLUMBIAN HOTEL, NEW YORK.

The foregoing account of the author was prefixed to the first edition of this
work. Shortly after its publication, a letter was received from him, by Mr.
Handaside, dated at a small Dutch village on the banks of the Hudson,
whither he had traveled for the purpose of inspecting certain ancient
records. As this was one of those few and happy villages, into which
newspapers never find their way, it is not a matter of surprise, that Mr.
Knickerbocker should never have seen the numerous advertisements that
were made concerning him; and that he should learn of the publication of
his history by mere accident.
He expressed much concern at its premature appearance, as thereby he was
prevented from making several important corrections and alterations: as
well as from profiting by many curious hints which he had collected during
his travels along the shores of the Tappan Sea, and his sojourn at
Haverstraw and Esopus.

Finding that there was no longer any immediate necessity for his return to
New York, he extended his journey up to the residence of his relations at
Scaghtikoke. On his way thither he stopped for some days at Albany, for
which city he is known to have entertained a great partiality. He found it,
however, considerably altered, and was much concerned at the inroads and
improvements which the Yankees were making, and the consequent decline
of the good old Dutch manners. Indeed, he was informed that these
intruders were making sad innovations in all parts of the State; where they
had given great trouble and vexation to the regular Dutch settlers, by the
introduction of turnpike-gates and country school-houses. It is said, also,
that Mr. Knickerbocker shook his head sorrowfully at noticing the gradual
decay of the great Vander Heyden palace; but was highly indignant at
finding that the ancient Dutch church, which stood in the middle of the
street, had been pulled down since his last visit.
The fame of Mr. Knickerbocker's History having reached even to Albany,
he received much flattering attention from its worthy burghers; some of
whom, however, pointed out two or three very great errors he had fallen
into, particularly that of suspending a lump of sugar over the Albany tea-
tables, which they assured him had been discontinued for some years past.
Several families, moreover, were somewhat piqued that their ancestors had
not been mentioned in his work, and showed great jealousy of their
neighbors who had thus been distinguished; while the latter, it must be
confessed, plumed themselves vastly thereupon; considering these
recordings in the lights of letters patent of nobility, establishing their claims
to ancestry, which, in this republican country, is a matter of no little
solicitude and vain-glory.
It is also said, that he enjoyed high favor and countenance from the
governor, who once asked him to dinner, and was seen two or three times to
shake hands with him when they met in the street; which certainly was
going great lengths, considering that they differed in politics. Indeed,
certain of the governor's confidential friends, to whom he could venture to
speak his mind freely on such matters, have assured us that he privately
entertained a considerable good-will for our author—nay, he even once
went so far as to declare, and that openly too, and at his own table, just after
dinner, that "Knickerbocker was a very well-meaning sort of an old
gentleman, and no fool." From all which may have been led to suppose,

that, had our author been of different politics, and written for the
newspapers instead of wasting his talents on histories, he might have risen
to some post of honor and profit: peradventure to be a notary public, or
even a justice in the ten-pound court.
Besides the honors and civilities already mentioned, he was much caressed
by the literati of Albany; particularly by Mr. John Cook, who entertained
him very hospitably at his circulating library and reading-room, where they
used to drink Spa water, and talk about the ancients. He found Mr. Cook a
man after his own heart—of great literary research, and a curious collector
of books At parting, the latter, in testimony of friendship, made him a
present of the two oldest works in his collection; which were, the earliest
edition of the Heidelberg Catechism, and Adrian Vander Donck's famous
account of the New Netherlands; by the last of which Mr. Knickerbocker
profited greatly in this his second edition.
Having passed some time very agreeably at Albany, our author proceeded to
Scaghtikoke; where, it is but justice to say, he was received with open arms,
and treated with wonderful loving-kindness. He was much looked up to by
the family, being the first historian of the name; and was considered almost
as great a man as his cousin the Congressman—with whom, by-the-by, he
became perfectly reconciled, and contracted a strong friendship.
In spite, however, of the kindness of his relations, and their great attention
to his comforts, the old gentleman soon became restless and discontented.
His history being published, he had no longer any business to occupy his
thoughts, or any scheme to excite his hopes and anticipations. This, to a
busy mind like his, was a truly deplorable situation; and had he not been a
man of inflexible morals and regular habits, there would have been great
danger of his taking to politics or drinking—both which pernicious vices we
daily see men driven to by mere spleen and idleness.
It is true he sometimes employed himself in preparing a second edition of
his history, wherein he endeavored to correct and improve many passages
with which he was dissatisfied, and to rectify some mistakes that had crept
into it; for he was particularly anxious that his work should be noted for its
authenticity; which, indeed, is the very life and soul of history. But the glow
of composition had departed—he had to leave many places untouched

which he would fain have altered; and even where he did make alterations,
he seemed always in doubt whether they were for the better or the worse.
After a residence of some time at Scaghtikoke, he began to feel a strong
desire to return to New York, which he ever regarded with the warmest
affection; not merely because it was his native city, but because he really
considered it the very best city in the whole world. On his return he entered
into the full enjoyment of the advantages of a literary reputation. He was
continually importuned to write advertisements, petitions, handbills, and
productions of similar import; and, although he never meddled with the
public papers, yet had he the credit of writing innumerable essays, and
smart things, that appeared on all subjects, and all sides of the question, in
all which he was clearly detected "by his style."
He contracted, moreover, a considerable debt at the postoffice, in
consequence of the numerous letter he received from authors and printers
soliciting his subscription—and he was applied to by every charitable
society for yearly donations, which he gave very cheerfully, considering
these applications as so many compliments. He was once invited to a great
corporation dinner; and was even twice summoned to attend as a juryman at
the court of quarter sessions. Indeed, so renowned did he become, that he
could no longer pry about, as formerly, in all holes and corners of the city,
according to the bent of his humor, unnoticed and uninterrupted; but several
times when he has been sauntering the streets, on his usual rambles of
observation, equipped with his cane and cocked hat, the little boys at play
have been known to cry, "There goes Diedrich!" at which the old gentleman
seemed not a little pleased, looking upon these salutations in the light of the
praise of posterity.
In a word, if we take into consideration all these various honors and
distinctions, together with an exuberant eulogium, passed on his in the
Portfolio (with which, we are told, the old gentleman was so much
overpowered, that he was sick for two or three days) it must be confessed
that few authors have ever lived to receive such illustrious rewards, or have
so completely enjoyed in advance their own immortality.
After his return from Scaghtikoke, Mr. Knickerbocker took up his residence
at a little rural retreat, which the Stuyvesants had granted him on the family

domain, in gratitude for his honorable mention of their ancestor. It was
pleasantly situated on the borders of one of the salt marshes beyond
Corlear's Hook; subject, indeed, to be occasionally over-flowed, and much
infested, in the summer-time, with mosquitoes; but otherwise very
agreeable, producing abundant crops of salt grass and bulrushes.
Here, we are sorry to say, the good old gentleman fell dangerously ill of a
fever, occasioned by the neighboring marshes. When he found his end
approaching, he disposed of his worldly affairs, leaving the bulk of his
fortune to the New York Historical Society; his Heidelberg Catechism and
Vander Donck's work to the City Library; and his saddle-bags to Mr.
Handaside. He forgave all his enemies—that is to say, all that bore any
enmity towards him; for as to himself, he declared he died in good-will to
all the world. And, after dictating several kind messages, to his relations at
Scaghtikoke, as well as to certain of our most substantial Dutch citizens, he
expired in the arms of his friend the librarian.
His remains were interred, according to his own request, in St. Mark's
Churchyard, close by the bones of his favorite hero, Peter Stuyvesant; and it
is rumored that the Historical Society have it in mind to erect a wooden
monument to his memory in the Bowling Green.

TO THE PUBLIC.

"To rescue from oblivion the memory of former incidents, and to render a
just tribute of renown to the many great and wonderful transactions of our
Dutch progenitors, Diedrich Knickerbocker, native of the city of New York,
produces this historical essay."[1] Like the great Father of History, whose
words I have just quoted, I treat of times long past, over which the twilight
of uncertainty had already thrown its shadows, and the night of
forgetfulness was about to descend for ever. With great solicitude had I long
beheld the early history of this venerable and ancient city gradually slipping
from our grasp, trembling on the lips of narrative old age, and day by day
dropping piecemeal into the tomb. In a little while, thought I, and those
revered Dutch burghers, who serve as the tottering monuments of good old
times, will be gathered to their fathers; their children, engrossed by the
empty pleasures or insignificant transactions of the present age, will neglect
to treasure up the recollections of the past, and posterity will search in vain
for memorials of the days of the Patriarchs. The origin of our city will be
buried in eternal oblivion, and even the names and achievements of Wouter
Van Twiller, William Kieft, and Peter Stuyvesant be enveloped in doubt and
fiction, like those of Romulus and Remus, of Charlemagne, King Arthur,
Rinaldo, and Godfrey of Boulogne.
Determined, therefore, to avert if possible this threatened misfortune, I
industriously set myself to work to gather together all the fragments of our
ancient history which still existed; and, like my revered prototype,
Herodotus, where no written records could be found, I have endeavored to
continue the chain of history by well-authenticated traditions.

In this arduous undertaking, which has been the whole business of a long
and solitary life, it is incredible the number of learned authors I have
consulted, and all to but little purpose. Strange as it may seem, though such
multitudes of excellent works have been written about this country, there

are none extant which give any full and satisfactory account of the early
history of New York, or of its three first Dutch Governors. I have, however,
gained much valuable and curious matter from an elaborate manuscript,
written in exceeding pure and classic low Dutch, excepting a few errors in
orthography, which was found in the archives of the Stuyvesant family.
Many legends, letters, and other documents have I likewise gleaned in my
researches among the family chests and lumber garrets of our respectable
Dutch citizens; and I have gathered a host of well-authenticated traditions
from divers excellent old ladies of my acquaintance, who requested that
their names might not be mentioned. Nor must I neglect to acknowledge
how greatly I have been assisted by that admirable and praiseworthy
institution, the New York Historical Society, to which I here publicly return
my sincere acknowledgments.
In the conduct, of this inestimable work I have adopted no individual
model, but, on the contrary, have simply contented myself with combining
and concentrating the excellences of the most approved ancient historians.
Like Xenophon, I have maintained the utmost impartiality, and the strictest
adherence to truth throughout my history. I have enriched it, after the
manner of Sallust, with various characters of ancient worthies, drawn at full
length and faithfully colored. I have seasoned it with profound political
speculations like Thucydides, sweetened it with the graces of sentiment like
Tacitus, and infused into the whole the dignity, the grandeur and
magnificence of Livy.
I am aware that I shall incur the censure of numerous very learned and
judicious critics for indulging too frequently in the bold excursive manner
of my favorite Herodotus. And, to be candid, I have found it impossible
always to resist the allurements of those pleasing episodes, which, like
flowery banks and fragrant bowers, beset the dusty road of the historian,
and entice him to turn aside, and refresh himself from his wayfaring. But I
trust it will be found that I have always resumed my staff, and addressed
myself to my weary journey with renovated spirits, so that both my readers
and myself have been benefited by the relaxation.
Indeed, though it has been my constant wish and uniform endeavor to rival
Polybius himself, in observing the requisite unity of History, yet the loose
and unconnected manner in which many of the facts herein recorded have

come to hand rendered such an attempt extremely difficult. This difficulty
was likewise increased by one of the grand objects contemplated in my
work, which was to trace the rise of sundry customs and institutions in these
best of cities, and to compare them, when in the germ of infancy, with what
they are in the present old age of knowledge and improvement.
But the chief merit on which I value myself, and found my hopes for future
regard, is that faithful veracity with which I have compiled this invaluable
little work; carefully winnowing away the chaff of hypothesis, and
discarding the tares of fable, which are too apt to spring up and choke the
seeds of truth and wholesome knowledge. Had I been anxious to captivate
the superficial throng, who skim like swallows over the surface of
literature; or had I been anxious to commend my writings to the pampered
palates of literary epicures, I might have availed myself of the obscurity that
overshadows the infant years of our city, to introduce a thousand pleasing
fictions. But I have scrupulously discarded many a pithy tale and marvelous
adventure, whereby the drowsy ear of summer indolence might be
enthralled; jealously maintaining that fidelity, gravity, and dignity which
should ever distinguish the historian. "For a writer of this class," observes
an elegant critic, "must sustain the character of a wise man writing for the
instruction of posterity; one who has studied to inform himself well, who
has pondered his subject with care, and addresses himself to our judgment
rather than to our imagination."
Thrice happy, therefore, is this our renowned city, in having incidents
worthy of swelling the theme of history; and doubly thrice happy is it in
having such an historian as myself to relate them. For, after all, gentle
reader, cities of themselves, and, in fact, empires of themselves, are nothing
without an historian. It is the patient narrator who records their prosperity as
they rise—who blazons forth the splendor of their noontide meridian—who
props their feeble memorials as they totter to decay—who gathers together
their scattered fragments as they rot—and who piously, at length, collects
their ashes into the mausoleum of his work, and rears a triumphant
monument to transmit their renown to all succeeding ages.
What has been the fate of many fair cities of antiquity, whose nameless
ruins encumber the plains of Europe and Asia, and awaken the fruitless
inquiry of the traveler? They have sunk into dust and silence—they have

perished from remembrance for want of a historian! The philanthropist may
weep over their desolation—the poet may wander among their mouldering
arches and broken columns, and indulge the visionary flights of his fancy—
but alas! alas! the modern historian, whose pen, like my own, is doomed to
confine itself to dull matter of fact, seeks in vain among their oblivious
remains for some memorial that may tell the instructive tale of their glory
and their ruin.
"Wars, conflagrations, deluges," says Aristotle, "destroy nations, and with
them all their monuments, their discoveries, and their vanities. The torch of
science has more than once been extinguished and rekindled—a few
individuals, who have escaped by accident, reunite the thread of
generations."
The same sad misfortune which has happened to so many ancient cities will
happen again, and from the same sad cause, to nine-tenths of those which
now flourish on the face of the globe. With most of them the time for
recording their history is gone by: their origin, their foundation, together
with the early stages of their settlement, are for ever buried in the rubbish of
years; and the same would have been the case with this fair portion of the
earth if I had not snatched it from obscurity in the very nick of time, at the
moment that those matters herein recorded were about entering into the
widespread insatiable maw of oblivion—if I had not dragged them out, as it
were, by the very locks, just as the monster's adamantine fangs were closing
upon them for ever! And here have I, as before observed, carefully
collected, collated, and arranged them, scrip and scrap, "punt en punt, gat
en gat," and commenced in this little work, a history to serve as a
foundation on which other historians may hereafter raise a noble
superstructure, swelling in process of time, until Knickerbocker's New York
may be equally voluminous with Gibbon's Rome, or Hume and Smollett's
England!
And now indulge me for a moment: while I lay down my pen, skip to some
little eminence at the distance of two or three hundred years ahead; and,
casting back a bird's-eye glance over the waste of years that is to roll
between, discover myself—little I—at this moment the progenitor,
prototype, and precursor of them all, posted at the head of this host of

literary worthies, with my book under my arm, and New York on my back,
pressing forward, like a gallant commander, to honor and immortality.
Such are the vain-glorious misgivings that will now and then enter into the
brain of the author—that irradiate, as with celestial light, his solitary
chamber, cheering his weary spirits, and animating him to persevere in his
labors. And I have freely given utterance to these rhapsodies whenever they
have occurred; not, I trust, from an unusual spirit of egotism, but merely
that the reader may for once have an idea how an author thinks and feels
while he is writing—a kind of knowledge very rare and curious, and much
to be desired.
FOOTNOTES:
[1]
Beloe's Herodotus.

BOOK I.

CONTAINING DIVERS INGENIOUS THEORIES AND PHILOSOPHIC
SPECULATIONS, CONCERNING THE CREATION AND POPULATION
OF THE WORLD, AS CONNECTED WITH THE HISTORY OF NEW
YORK.

CHAPTER I.

According to the best authorities, the world in which we dwell is a huge,
opaque, reflecting, inanimate mass, floating in the vast ethereal ocean of
infinite space. It has the form of an orange, being an oblate spheroid,
curiously flattened at opposite parts, for the insertion of two imaginary
poles, which are supposed to penetrate and unite at the center; thus forming
an axis on which the mighty orange turns with a regular diurnal revolution.
The transitions of light and darkness, whence proceed the alternations of
day and night, are produced by this diurnal revolution successively
presenting the different parts of the earth to the rays of the sun. The latter is,
according to the best, that is to say, the latest, accounts a luminous or fiery
body, of a prodigious magnitude, from which this world is driven by a
centrifugal or repelling power, and to which it is drawn by a centripetal or
attractive force; otherwise called the attraction of gravitation; the
combination, or rather the counteraction, of these two opposing impulses
producing a circular and annual revolution. Hence result the different
seasons of the year—viz., spring, summer, autumn, and winter.
This I believe to be the most approved modern theory on the subject;
though there be many philosophers who have entertained very different
opinions; some, too, of them entitled to much deference from their great
antiquity and illustrious characters. Thus it was advanced by some of the
ancient sages that the earth was an extended plain, supported by vast pillars;

and by others that it rested on the head of a snake, or the back of a huge
tortoise; but as they did not provide a resting place for either the pillars or
the tortoise, the whole theory fell to the ground for want of proper
foundation.
The Brahmins assert, that the heavens rest upon the earth, and the sun and
moon swim therein like fishes in the water, moving from east to west by
day, and gliding along the edge of the horizon to their original stations
during the night;[2] while, according to the Pauranicas of India, it is a vast
plain, encircled by seven oceans of mild, nectar, and other delicious liquids;
that it is studded with seven mountains, and ornamented in the center by a
mountainous rock of burnished gold; and that a great dragon occasionally
swallows up the moon, which accounts for the phenomena of lunar eclipses.
[3]

Beside these, and many other equally sage opinions, we have the profound
conjectures of Aboul-Hassan-Aly, son of Al Khan, son of Aly, son of
Abderrahman, son of Abdallah, son of Masoud el-Hadheli, who is
commonly called Masoudi, and surnamed Cothbeddin, but who takes the
humble title of Laheb-ar-rasoul, which means the companion of the
ambassador of God. He has written a universal history, entitled,
"Mouroudge-ed-dharab or the Golden Meadows, and the Mines of Precious
Stones."[4] In this valuable work he has related the history of the world,
from the creation down to the moment of writing; which was under the
Khaliphat of Mothi Billah, in the month Dgioumadi-el-aoual of the 336th
year of the Hegira or flight of the Prophet. He informs us that the earth is a
huge bird, Mecca and Medina constitute the head, Persia and India the right
wing, the land of Gog the left wing, and Africa the tail. He informs us
moreover, that an earth has existed before the present (which he considers
as a mere chicken of 7,000 years), that it has undergone divers deluges, and
that, according to the opinion of some well-informed Brahmins of his
acquaintance; it will be renovated every seventy thousandth hazarouam;
each hazarouam consisting of 12,000 years.
These are a few of the many contradictory opinions of philosophers
concerning the earth, and we find that the learned have had equal perplexity
as to the nature of the sun. Some of the ancient philosophers have affirmed
that it is a vast wheel of brilliant fire;[5] others that it is merely a mirror or

sphere of transparent crystal;[6] and a third class, at the head of whom
stands Anaxagoras, maintained that it was nothing but a huge ignited mass
of iron or stone—indeed he declared the heavens to be merely a vault of
stone—and that the stars were stones whirled upward from the earth, and
set on fire by the velocity of its revolutions.[7] But I give little attention to
the doctrines of this philosopher, the people of Athens having fully refuted
them by banishing him from their city; a concise mode of answering
unwelcome doctrines, much resorted to in former days. Another sect of
philosophers do declare, that certain fiery particles exhale constantly from
the earth, which, concentrating in a single point of the firmament by day,
constitute the sun, but being scattered and rambling about in the dark at
night, collect in various points, and form stars. These are regularly burnt out
and extinguished, not unlike to the lamps in our streets, and require a fresh
supply of exhalations for the next occasion.[8]
It is even recorded that at certain remote and obscure periods, in
consequence of a great scarcity of fuel, the sun has been completely burnt
out, and sometimes not rekindled for a month at a time. A most melancholy
circumstance, the very idea of which gave vast concern to Heraclitus, that
worthy weeping philosopher of antiquity. In addition to these various
speculations, it was the opinion of Herschel that the sun is a magnificent,
habitable abode; the light it furnishes arising from certain empyreal,
luminous or phosphoric clouds, swimming in its transparent atmosphere.[9]
But we will not enter further at present into the nature of the sun, that being
an inquiry not immediately necessary to the development of this history;
neither will we embroil ourselves in any more of the endless disputes of
philosophers touching the form of this globe, but content ourselves with the
theory advanced in the beginning of this chapter, and will proceed to
illustrate by experiment the complexity of motion therein described to this
our rotatory planet.
Professor Von Poddingcoft (or Puddinghead, as the name may be rendered
into English) was long celebrated in the University of Leyden for profound
gravity of deportment and a talent at going to sleep in the midst of
examinations, to the infinite relief of his hopeful students, who thereby
worked their way through college with great ease and little study. In the
course of one of his lectures, the learned professor seizing a bucket of water

swung it around his head at arm's length. The impulse with which he threw
the vessel from him, being a centrifugal force, the retention of his arm
operating as a centripetal power, and the bucket, which was a substitute for
the earth, describing a circular orbit round about the globular head and ruby
visage of Professor Von Poddingcoft, which formed no bad representation
of the sun. All of these particulars were duly explained to the class of
gaping students around him. He apprised them, moreover, that the same
principle of gravitation which retained the water in the bucket restrains the
ocean from flying from the earth in its rapid revolutions; and he farther
informed them that should the motion of the earth be suddenly checked, it
would incontinently fall into the sun, through the centripetal force of
gravitation: a most ruinous event to this planet, and one which would also
obscure, though it most probably would not extinguish, the solar luminary.
An unlucky stripling, one of those vagrant geniuses who seem sent into the
world merely to annoy worthy men of the puddinghead order, desirous of
ascertaining the correctness of the experiment, suddenly arrested the arm of
the professor just at the moment that the bucket was in its zenith, which
immediately descended with astonishing precision upon the philosophic
head of the instructor of youth. A hollow sound, and a red-hot hiss, attended
the contact; but the theory was in the amplest manner illustrated, for the
unfortunate bucket perished in the conflict; but the blazing countenance of
Professor Von Poddingcoft emerged from amidst the waters, glowing fiercer
than ever with unutterable indignation, whereby the students were
marvelously edified, and departed considerably wiser than before.
It is a mortifying circumstance, which greatly perplexes many a painstaking
philosopher, that nature often refuses to second his most profound and
elaborate efforts; so that often after having invented one of the most
ingenious and natural theories imaginable, she will have the perverseness to
act directly in the teeth of his system, and flatly contradict his most favorite
positions. This is a manifest and unmerited grievance, since it throws the
censure of the vulgar and unlearned entirely upon the philosopher; whereas
the fault is not to be ascribed to his theory, which is unquestionably correct,
but to the waywardness of Dame Nature, who, with the proverbial
fickleness of her sex, is continually indulging in coquetries and caprices,
and seems really to take pleasure in violating all philosophic rules, and
jilting the most learned and indefatigable of her adorers. Thus it happened

with respect to the foregoing satisfactory explanation of the motion of our
planet; it appears that the centrifugal force has long since ceased to operate,
while its antagonist remains in undiminished potency: the world, therefore,
according to the theory as it originally stood, ought in strict propriety to
tumble into the sun; philosophers were convinced that it would do so, and
awaited in anxious impatience the fulfillment of their prognostics. But the
untoward planet pertinaciously continued her course, not withstanding that
she had reason, philosophy, and a whole university of learned professors
opposed to her conduct. The philosophers took this in very ill part, and it is
thought they would never have pardoned the slight and affront which they
conceived put upon them by the world had not a good-natured professor
kindly officiated as a mediator between the parties, and effected a
reconciliation.
Finding the world would not accommodate itself to the theory, he wisely
determined to accommodate the theory to the world; he therefore informed
his brother philosophers that the circular motion of the earth round the sun
was no sooner engendered by the conflicting impulses above described than
it became a regular revolution independent of the cause which gave it
origin. His learned brethren readily joined in the opinion, being heartily
glad of any explanation that would decently extricate them from their
embarrassment; and ever since that memorable era the world has been left
to take her own course, and to revolve around the sun in such orbit as she
thinks proper.
FOOTNOTES:
[2]
Faria y Souza: Mick. Lus. note b. 7.

[3]
Sir W. Jones, Diss. Antiq. Ind. Zod.

[4]
MSS. Bibliot. Roi. Fr.

[5]

Plutarch de Plac. Philos. lib. ii. cap. 20

[6]
Achill. Tat. isag. cap. 19; Ap. Petav. t. iii. p. 81; Stob. Eclog.
Phys. lib. i. p. 56; Plut. de Plac. Philos.

[7]
Diogenes Laertius in Anaxag. 1. ii. sec. 8; Plat Apol. t. i. p. 26;
Plut. de Plac. Philos; Xenoph. Mem. 1. iv. p. 815.

[8]
Aristot. Meteor. 1. ii. c. 2; Idem. Probl. sec. 15; Stob. Ecl. Phys. 1.
i. p. 55; Bruck. Hist. Phil, t. i. p. 1154, etc.

[9]
Philos. Trans. 1795, p. 72; Idem. 1801, p. 265; Nich. Philos.
Journ. i. p. 13.

CHAPTER II.

Having thus briefly introduced my reader to the world, and given him some
idea of its form and situation, he will naturally be curious to know from
whence it came, and how it was created. And, indeed, the clearing up of
these points is absolutely essential to my history, inasmuch as if this world
had not been formed, it is more than probable that this renowned island, on
which is situated the city of New York, would never have had an existence.
The regular course of my history, therefore, requires that I should proceed
to notice the cosmogony or formation of this our globe.
And now I give my readers fair warning that I am about to plunge, for a
chapter or two, into as complete a labyrinth as ever historian was perplexed
withal; therefore, I advise them to take fast hold of my skirts, and keep
close at my heels, venturing neither to the right hand nor to the left, lest

they get bemired in a slough of unintelligible learning, or have their brains
knocked out by some of those hard Greek names which will be flying about
in all directions. But should any of them be too indolent or chicken-hearted
to accompany me in this perilous undertaking, they had better take a short
cut round, and wait for me at the beginning of some smoother chapter.
Of the creation of the world we have a thousand contradictory accounts;
and though a very satisfactory one is furnished us by divine revelation, yet
every philosopher feels himself in honor bound to furnish us with a better.
As an impartial historian, I consider it my duty to notice their several
theories, by which mankind have been so exceedingly edified and
instructed.
Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, that the earth and the
whole system of the universe was the Deity himself;[10] a doctrine most
strenuously maintained by Zenophanes and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as
also by Strabo and the sect of peripatetic philosophers. Pythagoras likewise
inculcated the famous numerical system of the monad, dyad, and triad; and
by means of his sacred quaternary, elucidated the formation of the world,
the arcana of nature, and the principles both of music and morals.[11] Other
sages adhered to the mathematical system of squares and triangles; the
cube, the pyramid, and the sphere; the tetrahedron, the octahedron, the
icosahedron, and the dodecahedron.[12] While others advocated the great
elementary theory, which refers the construction of our globe and all that it
contains to the combinations of four material elements, air, earth, fire, and
water; with the assistance of a fifth, an immaterial and vivifying principle.
Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic system taught by old Moschus
before the siege of Troy; revived by Democritus of laughing memory;
improved by Epicurus, that king of good fellows; and modernized by the
fanciful Descartes. But I decline inquiring, whether the atoms, of which the
earth is said to be composed, are eternal or recent; whether they are animate
or inanimate; whether, agreeably, to the opinion of Atheists, they were
fortuitously aggregated, or, as the Theists maintain, were arranged by a
supreme intelligence.[13] Whether, in fact, the earth be an insensate clod, or
whether it be animated by a soul,[14] which opinion was strenuously
maintained by a host of philosophers, at the head of whom stands the great
Plato, that temperate sage, who threw the cold water of philosophy on the

form of sexual intercourse, and inculcated the doctrine of Platonic love—an
exquisitely refined intercourse, but much better adapted to the ideal
inhabitants of his imaginary island of Atlantis than to the sturdy race,
composed of rebellious flesh and blood, which populates the little matter-
of-fact island we inhabit.
Besides these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical theogony of old
Hesiod, who generated the whole universe in the regular mode of
procreation; and the plausible opinion of others, that the earth was hatched
from the great egg of night, which floated in chaos, and was cracked by the
horns of the celestial bull. To illustrate this last doctrine, Burnet, in his
theory of the earth,[15] has favored us with an accurate drawing and
description, both of the form and texture of this mundane egg, which is
found to bear a marvelous resemblance to that of a goose. Such of my
readers as take a proper interest in the origin of this our planet will be
pleased to learn that the most profound sages of antiquity among the
Egyptians, Chaldeans, Persians, Greeks, and Latins have alternately assisted
at the hatching of this strange bird, and that their cacklings have been
caught, and continued in different tones and inflections, from philosopher to
philosopher, unto the present day.
But while briefly noticing long celebrated systems of ancient sages, let me
not pass over, with neglect, those of other philosophers, which, though less
universal than renowned, have equal claims to attention, and equal chance
for correctness. Thus it is recorded by the Brahmins in the pages of their
inspired Shastah, that the angel Bistnoo transformed himself into a great
boar, plunged into the watery abyss, and brought up the earth on his tusks.
Then issued from him a mighty tortoise and a mighty snake; and Bistnoo
placed the snake erect upon the back of the tortoise, and he placed the earth
upon the head of the snake.[16]
The negro philosophers of Congo affirm, that the world was made by the
hands of angels, excepting their own country, which the Supreme Being
constructed himself that it might be supremely excellent. And he took great
pains with the inhabitants, and made them very black and beautiful; and
when he had finished the first man, he was well pleased with him, and
smoothed him over the face, and hence his nose, and the nose of all his
descendants, became flat.

The Mohawk philosophers tell us, that a pregnant woman fell down from
heaven, and that a tortoise took her upon its back, because every place was
covered with water; and that the woman, sitting upon the tortoise, paddled
with her hands in the water, and raked up the earth, whence it finally
happened that the earth became higher than the water.[17]
But I forbear to quote a number more of these ancient and outlandish
philosophers, whose deplorable ignorance, in despite of all their erudition,
compelled them to write in languages which but few of my readers can
understand; and I shall proceed briefly to notice a few more intelligible and
fashionable theories of their modern successors.
And, first, I shall mention the great Buffon, who conjectures that this globe
was originally a globe of liquid fire, scintillated from the body of the sun,
by the percussion of a comet, as a spark is generated by the collision of flint
and steel. That at first it was surrounded by gross vapors, which, cooling
and condensing in process of time, constituted, according to their densities,
earth, water, and air, which gradually arranged themselves, according to
their respective gravities, round the burning or vitrified mass that formed
their center.
Hutton, on the contrary, supposes that the waters at first were universally
paramount; and he terrifies himself with the idea that the earth must be
eventually washed away by the force of rain, rivers, and mountain torrents,
until it is confounded with the ocean, or, in other words, absolutely
dissolves into itself. Sublime idea! far surpassing that of the tender-hearted
damsel of antiquity, who wept herself into a fountain; or the good dame of
Narbonne in France, who, for a volubility of tongue unusual in her sex, was
doomed to peel five hundred thousand and thirty-nine ropes of onions, and
actually run out at her eyes before half the hideous task was accomplished.
Whistorn, the same ingenious philosopher who rivaled Ditton in his
researches after the longitude (for which the mischief-loving Swift
discharged on their heads a most savory stanza), has distinguished himself
by a very admirable theory respecting the earth. He conjectures that it was
originally a chaotic comet, which, being selected for the abode of man, was
removed from its eccentric orbit; and whirled round the sun in its present
regular motion; by which change of direction, order succeeded to confusion

in the arrangement of its component parts. The philosopher adds that the
deluge was produced by an uncourteous salute from the watery tail of
another comet; doubtless through sheer envy of its improved condition; thus
furnishing a melancholy proof that jealousy may prevail even among the
heavenly bodies, and discord interrupt that celestial harmony of the spheres
so melodiously sung by the poets.
But I pass over a variety of excellent theories, among which are those of
Burnet, and Woodward, and Whitehurst; regretting extremely that my time
will not suffer me to give them the notice they deserve; and shall conclude
with that of the renowned Dr. Darwin. This learned Theban, who is as much
distinguished for rhyme as reason, and for good-natured credulity as serious
research, and who has recommended himself wonderfully to the good
graces of the ladies, by letting them into all the gallantries, amours,
debaucheries, and other topics of scandal of the court of Flora, has fallen
upon a theory worthy of his combustible imagination. According to his
opinion, the huge mass of chaos took a sudden occasion to explode, like a
barrel of gunpowder, and in that act exploded the sun—which, in its flight,
by a similar convulsion, exploded the earth, which in like guise exploded
the moon—and thus, by a concatenation of explosions, the whole solar
system was produced, and set most systematically in motion![18]
By the great variety of theories here alluded to, every one of which, if
thoroughly examined, will be found surprisingly consistent in all its parts,
my unlearned readers will perhaps be led to conclude that the creation of a
world is not so difficult a task as they at first imagined. I have shown at
least a score of ingenious methods in which a world could be constructed;
and I have no doubt that had any of the philosophers above quoted the use
of a good manageable comet, and the philosophical warehouse, chaos, at his
command, he would engage to manufacture, a planet as good, or, if you
would take his word for it, better than this we inhabit.
And here I cannot help noticing the kindness of Providence in creating
comets for the great relief of bewildered philosophers. By their assistance
more sudden evolutions and transitions are effected in the system of nature
than are wrought in a pantomimic exhibition by the wonder-working sword
of harlequin. Should one of our modern sages, in his theoretical flights
among the stars, ever find himself lost in the clouds, and in danger of

tumbling into the abyss of nonsense and absurdity, he has but to seize a
comet by the beard, mount astride of its tail, and away he gallops in triumph
like an enchanter on his hippogriff, or a Connecticut witch on her
broomstick, "to sweep the cobwebs out of the sky."
It is an old and vulgar saying about a "beggar on horseback" which I would
not for the world have applied to these reverend philosophers; but I must
confess that some of them, when they are mounted on one of those fiery
steeds, are as wild in their curvettings as was Phaeton of yore, when he
aspired to manage the chariot of Phoebus. One drives his comet at full
speed against the sun, and knocks the world out of him with the mighty
concussion; another, more moderate, makes his comet a kind of beast of
burden, carrying the sun a regular supply of food and faggots; a third, of
more combustible disposition, threatens to throw his comet like a bombshell
into the world, and blow it up like a powder magazine; while a fourth, with
no great delicacy to this planet and its inhabitants, insinuates that some day
or other his comet—my modest pen blushes while I write it—shall
absolutely turn tail upon our world and deluge it with water! Surely, as I
have already observed, comets were bountifully provided by Providence for
the benefit of philosophers to assist them in manufacturing theories.
And now, having adduced several of the most prominent theories that occur
to my recollection, I leave my judicious readers at full liberty to choose
among them. They are all serious speculations of learned men—all differ
essentially from each other—and all have the same title to belief. It has ever
been the task of one race of philosophers to demolish the works of their
predecessors, and elevate more splendid fantasies in their stead, which in
their turn are demolished and replaced by the air-castles of a succeeding
generation. Thus it would seem that knowledge and genius, of which we
make such great parade, consist but in detecting the errors and absurdities
of those who have gone before, and devising new errors and absurdities, to
be detected by those who are to come after us. Theories are the mighty
soap-bubbles with which the grown-up children of science amuse
themselves while the honest vulgar stand gazing in stupid admiration, and
dignify these learned vagaries with the name of wisdom! Surely Socrates
was right in his opinion, that philosophers are but a soberer sort of madmen,
busying themselves in things totally incomprehensible, or which, if they

could be comprehended, would be found not worthy the trouble of
discovery.
For my own part, until the learned have come to an agreement among
themselves, I shall content myself with the account handed down to us by
Moses; in which I do but follow the example of our ingenious neighbors of
Connecticut; who at their first settlement proclaimed that the colony should
be governed by the laws of God—until they had time to make better.
One thing, however, appears certain—from the unanimous authority of the
before quoted philosophers, supported by the evidence of our own senses
(which, though very apt to deceive us, may be cautiously admitted as
additional testimony)—it appears, I say, and I make the assertion
deliberately, without fear of contradiction, that this globe really was created,
and that it is composed of land and water. It further appears that it is
curiously divided and parceled out into continents and islands, among
which I boldly declare the renowned island of New York will be found by
any one who seeks for it in its proper place.
FOOTNOTES:
[10]
Aristot. ap, Cic. lib. i. cap. 3.

[11]
Aristot. Metaph. lib. i. c. 5.; Idem, de Coelo, 1. iii, c. I; Rousseau
mem. sur Musique ancien. p. 39; Plutarch de Plac. Philos. lib. i.
cap. 3.

[12]
Tim. Locr. ap. Plato. t. iii. p. 90.

[13]
Aristot. Nat. Auscult. I. ii. cap. 6; Aristoph. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 3;
Cic. de Nat. Deor. lib. i. cap. 10; Justin Mart. orat. ad gent. p. 20.

[14]
Mosheim in Cudw. lib. i. cap. 4; Tim. de anim. mund. ap. Plat. lib.
iii.; Mem. de l'Acad. des Belles-Lettr. t. xxxii. p. 19.

[15]
Book i. ch. 5.

[16]
Holwell, Gent. Philosophy.

[17]
Johannes Megapolensis. Jun. Account of Maquaas or Mohawk
Indians.

[18]
Drw. Bot. Garden, part i. cant. i. 1. 105.

CHAPTER III.

Noah, who is the first seafaring man we read of, begat three sons, Shem,
Ham, and Japhet. Authors, it is true, are not wanting who affirm that the
patriarch had a number of other children. Thus Berosus makes him father of
the gigantic Titans; Methodius gives him a son called Jonithus, or Jonicus
(who was the first inventor of Johnny cakes); and others have mentioned a
son, named Thuiscon, from whom descended the Teutons or Teutonic, or, in
other words, the Dutch nation.
I regret exceedingly that the nature of my plan will not permit me to gratify
the laudable curiosity of my readers, by investigating minutely the history
of the great Noah. Indeed, such an undertaking would be attended with
more trouble than many people would imagine; for the good old patriarch
seems to have been a great traveler in his day, and to have passed under a

different name in every country that he visited. The Chaldeans, for instance,
give us his story, merely altering his name into Xisuthrus—a trivial
alteration, which to an historian skilled in etymologies will appear wholly
unimportant. It appears, likewise, that he had exchanged his tarpaulin and
quadrant among the Chaldeans for the gorgeous insignia of royalty, and
appears as a monarch in their annals. The Egyptians celebrate him under the
name of Osiris; the Indians as Menu; the Greek and Roman writers
confound him with Ogyges; and the Theban with Deucalion and Saturn. But
the Chinese, who deservedly rank among the most extensive and authentic
historians, inasmuch as they have known the world much longer than any
one else, declare that Noah was no other than Fohi; and what gives this
assertion some air of credibility is that it is a fact, admitted by the most
enlightened literati, that Noah traveled into China, at the time of the
building of the Tower of Babel (probably to improve himself in the study of
languages), and the learned Dr. Shuckford gives us the additional
information that the ark rested on a mountain on the frontiers of China.
From this mass of rational conjectures and sage hypotheses many
satisfactory deductions might be drawn; but I shall content myself with the
simple fact stated in the Bible—viz., that Noah begat three sons, Shem,
Ham, and Japhet. It is astonishing on what remote and obscure
contingencies the great affairs of this world depend, and how events the
most distant, and to the common observer unconnected, are inevitably
consequent the one to the other. It remains to the philosopher to discover
these mysterious affinities, and it is the proudest triumph of his skill to
detect and drag forth some latent chain of causation, which at first sight
appears a paradox to the inexperienced observer. Thus many of my readers
will doubtless wonder what connection the family of Noah can possibly
have with this history; and many will stare when informed that the whole
history of this quarter of the world has taken its character and course from
the simplest circumstance of the patriarch's having but three sons—but to
explain.
Noah, we are told by sundry very credible historians, becoming sole
surviving heir and proprietor of the earth, in fee simple, after the deluge,
like a good father, portioned out his estate among his children. To Shem he
gave Asia; to Ham, Africa; and to Japhet, Europe. Now it is a thousand
times to be lamented that he had but three sons, for had there been a fourth

he would doubtless have inherited America, which, of course, would have
been dragged forth from its obscurity on the occasion; and thus many a
hard-working historian and philosopher would have been spared a
prodigious mass of weary conjecture respecting the first discovery and
population of this country. Noah, however, having provided for his three
sons, looked in all probability upon our country as mere wild unsettled land,
and said nothing about it; and to this unpardonable taciturnity of the
patriarch may we ascribe the misfortune that America did not come into the
world as early as the other quarters of the globe.
It is true, some writers have vindicated him from this misconduct towards
posterity, and asserted that he really did discover America. Thus it was the
opinion of Mark Lescarbot, a French writer, possessed of that ponderosity
of thought and profoundness of reflection so peculiar to his nation, that the
immediate descendants of Noah peopled this quarter of the globe, and that
the old patriarch himself, who still retained a passion for the seafaring life,
superintended the transmigration. The pious and enlightened father,
Charlevoix, a French Jesuit, remarkable for his aversion to the marvelous,
common to all great travelers, is conclusively of the same opinion; nay, he
goes still farther, and decides upon the manner in which the discovery was
effected, which was by sea, and under the immediate direction of the great
Noah. "I have already observed," exclaims the good father, in a tone of
becoming indignation, "that it is an arbitrary supposition that the
grandchildren of Noah were not able to penetrate into the new world, or that
they never thought of it. In effect, I can see no reason that can justify such a
notion. Who can seriously believe that Noah and his immediate descendants
knew less than we do, and that the builder and pilot of the greatest ship that
ever was, a ship which was formed to traverse an unbounded ocean, and
had so many shoals and quicksands to guard against, should be ignorant of,
or should not have communicates to his descendants, the art of sailing on
the ocean? Therefore, they did sail on the ocean—therefore, they sailed to
America—therefore, America was discovered by Noah!"
Now all this exquisite chain of reasoning, which is so strikingly
characteristic of the good father, being addressed to the faith, rather than the
understanding, is flatly opposed by Hans de Laet, who declares it a real and
most ridiculous paradox to suppose that Noah ever entertained the thought
of discovering America; and as Hans is a Dutch writer, I am inclined to

believe he must have been much better acquainted with the worthy crew of
the ark than his competitors, and of course possessed of more accurate
sources of information. It is astonishing how intimate historians do daily
become with the patriarchs and other great men of antiquity. As intimacy
improves with time, and as the learned are particularly inquisitive and
familiar in their acquaintance with the ancients, I should not be surprised if
some future writers should gravely give us a picture of men and manners as
they existed before the flood, far more copious and accurate than the Bible;
and that, in the course of another century, the log-book of the good Noah
should be as current among historians as the voyages of Captain Cook, or
the renowned history of Robinson Crusoe.
I shall not occupy my time by discussing the huge mass of additional
suppositions, conjectures, and probabilities respecting the first discovery of
this country, with which unhappy historians overload themselves in their
endeavors to satisfy the doubts of an incredulous world. It is painful to see
these laborious wights panting, and toiling, and sweating under an
enormous burden, at the very outset of their works, which, on being opened,
turns out to be nothing but a mighty bundle of straw. As, however, by
unwearied assiduity, they seem to have established the fact, to the
satisfaction of all the world, that this country has been discovered I shall
avail myself of their useful labors to be extremely brief upon this point.
I shall not, therefore, stop to inquire whether America was first discovered
by a wandering vessel of that celebrated Phoenician fleet, which, according
to Herodotus, circumnavigated Africa; or by that Carthaginian expedition
which, Pliny the naturalist informs us, discovered the Canary Islands; or
whether it was settled by a temporary colony from Tyre, as hinted by
Aristotle and Seneca. I shall neither inquire whether it was first discovered
by the Chinese, as Vossius with great shrewdness advances; nor by the
Norwegians in 1002, under Biron; nor be Behem the German navigator, as
Mr. Otto has endeavored to prove to the savants of the learned city of
Philadelphia.
Nor shall I investigate the more modern claims of the Welsh, founded on
the voyage of Prince Madoc in the eleventh century, who, having never
returned, it has since been wisely concluded that he must have gone to
America, and that for a plain reason if he did not go there, where else could

he have gone?—a question which most Socratically shuts out all further
dispute.
Laying aside, therefore, all the conjectures above mentioned, with a
multitude of others equally satisfactory, I shall take for granted the vulgar
opinion that America was discovered on the 12th of October, 1492, by
Christopher Colon, a Genoese, who has been clumsily nicknamed
Columbus, but for what reason I cannot discern. Of the voyages and
adventures of this Colon I shall say nothing, seeing that they are already
sufficiently known. Nor shall I undertake to prove that this country should
have been called Colonia, after his name, that being notoriously self-
evident.
Having thus happily got my readers on this side of the Atlantic, I picture
them to myself, all impatience to enter upon the enjoyment of the land of
promise, and in full expectation that I will immediately deliver it into their
possession. But if I do, may I ever forfeit the reputation of a regular bred
historian! No—no—most curious and thrice-learned readers (for thrice
learned ye are if ye have read all that has gone before, and nine times
learned shall ye be if ye read that which comes after), we have yet a world
of work before us. Think you the first discoverers of this fair quarter of the
globe had nothing to do but go on shore and find a country ready laid out
and cultivated like a garden, wherein they might revel at their ease? No
such thing. They had forests to cut down, underwood to grub up, marshes to
drain, and savages to exterminate. In like manner, I have sundry doubts to
clear away, questions to resolve, and paradoxes to explain before I permit
you to range at random; but these difficulties once overcome we shall be
enabled to jog on right merrily through the rest of our history. Thus my
work shall, in a manner, echo the nature of the subject, in the same manner
as the sound of poetry has been found by certain shrewd critics to echo the
sense—this being an improvement in history which I claim the merit of
having invented.

CHAPTER IV.

The next inquiry at which we arrive in the regular course of our history is to
ascertain, if possible, how this country was originally peopled—a point
fruitful of incredible embarrassments; for unless we prove that the
aborigines did absolutely come from somewhere, it will be immediately
asserted in this age of scepticism, that they did not come at all; and if they
did not come at all, then was this country never populated—a conclusion
perfectly agreeable to the rules of logic, but wholly irreconcilable to every
feeling of humanity, inasmuch as it must syllogistically prove fatal to the
innumerable aborigines of this populous region.
To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from logical annihilation so many
millions of fellow-creatures, how many wings of geese have been
plundered! what oceans of ink have been benevolently drained! and how
many capacious heads of learned historians have been addled and for ever
confounded! I pause with reverential awe when I contemplate the
ponderous tomes in different languages, with which they have endeavored
to solve this question, so important to the happiness of society, but so
involved in clouds of impenetrable obscurity. Historian after historian has
engaged in the endless circle of hypothetical argument, and, after leading us
a weary chase through octavos, quartos, and folios, has let us out at the end
of his work just as wise as we were at the beginning. It was doubtless some
philosophical wild-goose chase of the kind that made the old poet
Macrobius rail in such a passion at curiosity, which he anathematises most
heartily as "an irksome, agonising care, a superstitious industry about
unprofitable things, an itching humor to see what is not to be seen, and to be
doing what signifies nothing when it is done." But to proceed.
Of the claims of the children of Noah to the original population of this
country I shall say nothing, as they have already been touched upon in my
last chapter. The claimants next in celebrity are the descendants of
Abraham. Thus Christoval Colon (vulgarly called Columbus), when he first
discovered the gold mines of Hispaniola, immediately concluded, with a
shrewdness that would have done honor to a philosopher, that he had found
the ancient Ophir, from whence Solomon procured the gold for
embellishing the temple at Jerusalem; nay, Colon even imagined that he
saw the remains of furnaces of veritable Hebraic construction, employed in
refining the precious ore.

So golden a conjecture, tinctured with such fascinating extravagance, was
too tempting not to be immediately snapped at by the gudgeons of learning;
and, accordingly, there were divers profound writers ready to swear to its
correctness, and to bring in their usual load of authorities and wise
surmises, wherewithal to prop it up. Vatablus and Robert Stephens declared
nothing could be more clear; Arius Montanus, without the least hesitation,
asserts that Mexico was the true Ophir, and the Jews the early settlers of the
country. While Possevin, Becan, and several other sagacious writers lug in a
supposed prophecy of the fourth book of Esdras, which being inserted in the
mighty hypothesis, like the keystone of an arch, gives it, in their opinion,
perpetual durability.
Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly superstructure when in
trudges a phalanx of opposite authors with Hans de Laet, the great
Dutchman, at their head, and at one blow tumbles the whole fabric about
their ears. Hans, in fact, contradicts outright all the Israelitish claims to the
first settlement of this country, attributing all those equivocal symptoms,
and traces of Christianity and Judaism, which have been said to be found in
divers provinces of the new world, to the Devil, who has always effected to
counterfeit the worship of the true Deity. "A remark," says the knowing old
Padre d'Acosta, "made by all good authors who have spoken of the religion
of nations newly discovered, and founded, besides, on the authority of the
fathers of the church."
Some writers again, among whom it is with much regret I am compelled to
mention Lopez de Gomara and Juan de Leri, insinuate that the Canaanites,
being driven from the land of promise by the Jews, were seized with such a
panic that they fled without looking behind them, until stopping to take
breath, they found themselves safe in America. As they brought neither their
national language, manners, nor features with them it is supposed they left
them behind in the hurry of their flight. I cannot give my faith to this
opinion.
I pass over the supposition of the learned Grotius, who being both an
ambassador and a Dutchman to boot, is entitled to great respect, that North
America was peopled by a strolling company of Norwegians, and that Peru
was founded by a colony from China—Manco or Mungo Capac, the first
Incas, being himself a Chinese. Nor shall I more than barely mention that

Father Kircher ascribes the settlement of America to the Egyptians,
Budbeck to the Scandinavians, Charron to the Gauls, Juffredus Petri to a
skating party from Friesland, Milius to the Celtæ, Marinocus the Sicilian to
the Romans, Le Comte to the Phoenicians, Postel to the Moors, Martin
d'Angleria to the Abyssinians, together with the sage surmise of De Laet,
that England, Ireland, and the Orcades may contend for that honor.
Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to the idea that America is
the fairy region of Zipangri, described by that dreaming traveler Marco
Polo the Venetian; or that it comprises the visionary island of Atlantis,
described by Plato. Neither will I stop to investigate the heathenish
assertion of Paracelsus, that each hemisphere of the globe was originally
furnished with an Adam and Eve. Or the more flattering opinion of Dr.
Romayne, supported by many nameless authorities, that Adam was of the
Indian race; or the startling conjecture of Buffon, Helvetius, and Darwin, so
highly honorable to mankind, that the whole human species is accidentally
descended foam a remarkable family of monkeys!
This last conjecture, I must own, came upon me very suddenly and very
ungraciously. I have often beheld the clown in a pantomime, while gazing
in stupid wonder at the extravagant gambols of a harlequin, all at once
electrified by a sudden stroke of the wooden sword across his shoulders.
Little did I think at such times that it would ever fall to my lot to be treated
with equal discourtesy, and that while I was quietly beholding these grave
philosophers emulating the eccentric transformations of the hero of
pantomime, they would on a sudden turn upon me and my readers, and with
one hypocritical flourish metamorphose us into beasts! I determined from
that moment not to burn my fingers with any more of their theories, but
content myself with detailing the different methods by which they
transported the descendants of these ancient and respectable monkeys to
this great field of theoretical warfare.
This was done either by migrations by land or transmigrations by water.
Thus Padre Joseph d'Acosta enumerates three passages by land, first by the
north of Europe, secondly by the north of Asia, and, thirdly, by regions
southward of the Straits of Magellan. The learned Grotius marches his
Norwegians by a pleasant route across frozen rivers and arms of the sea,
through Iceland, Greenland, Estotiland, and Naremberga; and various

writers, among whom are Angleria, De Hornn, and Buffon, anxious for the
accommodation of these travelers, have fastened the two continents
together by a strong chain of deductions—by which means they could pass
over dry-shod. But should even this fail, Pinkerton, that industrious old
gentleman, who compiles books and manufactures geographies, has
constructed a natural bridge of ice, from continent to continent, at the
distance of four or five miles from Behring's Straits-for which he is entitled
to the grateful thanks of all the wandering aborigines who ever did or ever
will pass over it.
It is an evil much to be lamented that none of the worthy writers above
quoted could ever commence his work without immediately declaring
hostilities against every writer who had treated of the same subject. In this
particular authors may be compared to a certain sagacious bird, which, in
building its nest is sure to pull to pieces the nests of all the birds in its
neighborhood. This unhappy propensity tends grievously to impede the
progress of sound knowledge. Theories are at best but brittle productions,
and when once committed to the stream, they should take care that, like the
notable pots which were fellow-voyagers, they do not crack each other.
My chief surprise is, that among the many writers I have noticed, no one
has attempted to prove that this country was peopled from the moon—or
that the first inhabitants floated hither on islands of ice, as white bears
cruise about the northern oceans—or that they were conveyed hither by
balloons, as modern aeronauts pass from Dover to Calais—or by witchcraft,
as Simon Magus posted among the stars—or after the manner of the
renowned Scythian Abaris, who, like the New England witches on full-
blooded broomsticks, made most unheard-of journeys on the back of a
golden arrow, given him by the Hyperborean Apollo.
But there is still one mode left by which this country could have been
peopled, which I have reserved for the last, because I consider it worth all
the rest; it is—by accident! Speaking of the islands of Solomon, New
Guinea, and New Holland, the profound father Charlevoix observes: "In
fine, all these countries are peopled, and it is possible some have been so by
accident. Now if it could have happened in that manner, why might it not
have been at the same time, and by the same means, with the other parts of
the globe?" This ingenious mode of deducing certain conclusions from

possible premises is an improvement in syllogistic skill, and proves the
good father superior even to Archimedes, for he can turn the world without
anything to rest his lever upon. It is only surpassed by the dexterity with
which the sturdy old Jesuit in another place cuts the gordian knot
—"Nothing," says he, "is more easy. The inhabitants of both hemispheres
are certainly the descendants of the same father. The common father of
mankind received an express order from Heaven to people the world, and
accordingly it has been peopled. To bring this about it was necessary to
overcome all difficulties in the way, and they have also been overcome!"
Pious logician! how does he put all the herd of laborious theorists to the
blush, by explaining in five words what it has cost them volumes to prove
they knew nothing about!
From all the authorities here quoted, and a variety of others which I have
consulted, but which are omitted through fear of fatiguing the unlearned
reader, I can only draw the following conclusions, which luckily, however,
are sufficient for my purpose. First, that this part of the world has actually
been peopled (Q.E.D.) to support which we have living proofs in the
numerous tribes of Indians that inhabit it. Secondly, that it has been peopled
in five hundred different ways, as proved by a cloud of authors, who, from
the positiveness of their assertions, seem to have been eye-witnesses to the
fact. Thirdly, that the people of this country had a variety of fathers, which,
as it may not be thought much to their credit by the common run of readers,
the less we say on the subject the better. The question, therefore, I trust, is
for ever at rest.

CHAPTER V.

The writer of a history may, in some respects, be likened unto an
adventurous knight, who having undertaken a perilous enterprise by way of
establishing his fame, feels bound, in honor and chivalry to turn back for no
difficulty nor hardship, and never to shrink or quail, whatever enemy he
may encounter. Under this impression, I resolutely draw my pen, and fall to
with might and main at those doughty questions and subtle paradoxes
which, like fiery dragons and bloody giants, beset the entrance to my

history, and would fain repulse me from the very threshold. And at this
moment a gigantic question has started up, which I must needs take by the
beard and utterly subdue before I can advance another step in my historic
undertaking; but I trust this will be the last adversary I shall have to contend
with, and that in the next book I shall be enabled to conduct my readers in
triumph into the body of my work.
The question which has thus suddenly arisen is, What right had the first
discoverers of America to land and take possession of a country without
first gaining the consent of its inhabitants, or yielding them an adequate
compensation for their territory?—a question which has withstood many
fierce assaults, and has given much distress of mind to multitudes of kind-
hearted folk. And, indeed, until it be totally vanquished, and put to rest, the
worthy people of America can by no means enjoy the soil they inhabit with
clear right and title, and quiet, unsullied conscience.
The first source of right by which property is acquired in a country is
discovery. For as all mankind have an equal right to anything which has
never before been appropriated, so any nation that discovers an uninhabited
country, and takes possession thereof, is considered as enjoying full
property, and absolute, unquestionable empire therein.[19]
This proposition being admitted, it follows clearly that the Europeans who
first visited America were the real discoverers of the same; nothing being
necessary to the establishment of this fact but simply to prove that it was
totally uninhabited by man. This would at first appear to be a point of some
difficulty, for it is well known that this quarter of the world abounded with
certain animals, that walked erect on two feet, had something of the human
countenance, uttered certain unintelligible sounds, very much like language;
in short, had a marvelous resemblance to human beings. But the zealous
and enlightened fathers who accompanied the discoverers, for the purpose
of promoting the kingdom of heaven by establishing fat monasteries and
bishoprics on earth, soon cleared up this point, greatly to the satisfaction of
his holiness the Pope and of all Christian voyagers and discoverers.
They plainly proved, and, as there were no Indian writers arose on the other
side, the fact was considered as fully admitted and established, that the two-
legged race of animals before mentioned were mere cannibals, detestable

monsters, and many of them giants—which last description of vagrants
have, since the time of Gog, Magog, and Goliath, been considered as
outlaws, and have received no quarter in either history, chivalry, or song.
Indeed, even the philosophic Bacon declared the Americans to be people
proscribed by the laws of nature, inasmuch as they had a barbarous custom
of sacrificing men, and feeding upon man's flesh.
Nor are these all the proofs of their utter barbarism; among many other
writers of discernment, Ulla tells us, "their imbecility is so visible that one
can hardly form an idea of them different from what one has of the brutes.
Nothing disturbs the tranquillity of their souls, equally insensible to
disasters and to prosperity. Though half naked, they are as contented as a
monarch in his most splendid array. Fear makes no impression on them, and
respect as little." All this is furthermore supported by the authority of M.
Boggier. "It is not easy," says he, "to describe the degree of their
indifference for wealth and all its advantages. One does not well know what
motives to propose to them when one would persuade them to any service.
It is vain to offer them money; they answer they are not hungry." And Vane
gas confirms the whole, assuring us that "ambition they have none, and are
more desirous of being thought strong than valiant. The objects of ambition
with us—honor, fame, reputation, riches, posts, and distinctions—are
unknown among them. So that this powerful spring of action, the cause of
so much seeming good and real evil in the world, has no power over them.
In a word, these unhappy mortals may be compared to children, in whom
the development of reason is not completed."
Now all these peculiarities, although in the unenlightened states of Greece
they would have entitled their possessors to immortal honor, as having
reduced to practice those rigid and abstemious maxims, the mere talking
about which acquired certain old Greeks the reputation of sages and
philosophers; yet were they clearly proved in the present instance to
betoken a most abject and brutified nature, totally beneath the human
character. But the benevolent fathers, who had undertaken to turn these
unhappy savages into dumb beasts by dint of argument, advanced still
stronger proofs; for as certain divines of the sixteenth century, and among
the rest Lullus, affirm, the Americans go naked, and have no beards! "They
have nothing," says Lullus, "of the reasonable animal, except the mask."
And even that mask was allowed to avail them but little, for it was soon

found that they were of a hideous copper complexion—and being of a
copper complexion, it was all the same as if they were negroes—and
negroes are black, "and black," said the pious fathers, devoutly crossing
themselves, "is the color of the devil!" Therefore, so far from being able to
own property, they had no right even to personal freedom—for liberty is too
radiant a deity to inhabit such gloomy temples. All which circumstances
plainly convinced the righteous followers of Cortes and Pizarro that these
miscreants had no title to the soil that they infested—that they were a
perverse, illiterate, dumb, beardless, black-seed—mere wild beasts of the
forests and, like them, should either be subdued or exterminated.
From the foregoing arguments, therefore, and a variety of others equally
conclusive, which I forbear to enumerate, it is clearly evident that this fair
quarter of the globe, when first visited by Europeans, was a howling
wilderness, inhabited by nothing but wild beasts; and that the transatlantic
visitors acquired an incontrovertible property therein, by the right of
discovery.
This right being fully established, we now come to the next, which is the
right acquired by cultivation. "The cultivation of the soil," we are told, "is
an obligation imposed by nature on mankind. The whole world is appointed
for the nourishment of its inhabitants; but it would be incapable of doing it,
was it uncultivated. Every nation is then obliged by the law of nature to
cultivate the ground that has fallen to its share. Those people, like the
ancient Germans and modern Tartars, who, having fertile countries, disdain
to cultivate the earth, and choose to live by rapine, are wanting to
themselves, and deserve to be exterminated as savage and pernicious
beasts."[20]
Now it is notorious that the savages knew nothing of agriculture when first
discovered by the Europeans, but lived a most vagabond, disorderly,
unrighteous life, rambling from place to place, and prodigally rioting upon
the spontaneous luxuries of nature, without tasking her generosity to yield
them anything more; whereas it has been most unquestionably shown that
Heaven intended the earth should be ploughed, and sown, and manured, and
laid out into cities, and towns, and farms, and country seats, and pleasure
grounds, and public gardens, all which the Indians knew nothing about—
therefore, they did not improve the talents Providence had bestowed on

them—therefore they were careless stewards—therefore, they had no right
to the soil—therefore, they deserved to be exterminated.
It is true the savages might plead that they drew all the benefits from the
land which their simple wants required—they found plenty of game to hunt,
which, together with the roots and uncultivated fruits of the earth, furnished
a sufficient variety for their frugal repasts; and that as Heaven merely
designed the earth to form the abode and satisfy the wants of man, so long
as those purposes were answered the will of Heaven was accomplished. But
this only proves how undeserving they were of the blessings around them—
they were so much the more savages for not having more wants; for
knowledge is in some degree an increase of desires, and it is this superiority
both in the number and magnitude of his desires that distinguishes the man
from the beast. Therefore the Indians, in not having more wants, were very
unreasonable animals; and it was but just that they should make way for the
Europeans, who had a thousand wants to their one, and, therefore, would
turn the earth to more account, and by cultivating it more truly fulfil the will
of Heaven. Besides—Grotius and Lauterbach, and Puffendorf, and Titius,
and many wise men beside, who have considered the matter properly, have
determined that the property of a country cannot be acquired by hunting,
cutting wood, or drawing water in it—nothing but precise demarcation of
limits, and the intention of cultivation, can establish the possession. Now as
the savages (probably from never having read the authors above quoted)
had never complied with any of these necessary forms, it plainly follows
that they had no right to the soil, but that it was completely at the disposal
of the first comers, who had more knowledge, more wants, and more
elegant, that is to say artificial, desires than themselves.
In entering upon a newly discovered, uncultivated country, therefore, the
new comers were but taking possession of what, according to the aforesaid
doctrine, was their own property—therefore in opposing them, the savages
were invading their just rights, infringing the immutable laws of nature, and
counteracting the will of Heaven—therefore, they were guilty of impiety,
burglary, and trespass on the case—therefore, they were hardened offenders
against God and man—therefore, they ought to be exterminated.
But a more irresistible right than either that I have mentioned, and one
which will be the most readily admitted by my reader, provided he be

blessed with bowels of charity and philanthropy, is the right acquired by
civilization. All the world knows the lamentable state in which these poor
savages were found. Not only deficient in the comforts of life, but, what is
still worse, most piteously and unfortunately blind to the miseries of their
situation. But no sooner did the benevolent inhabitants of Europe behold
their sad condition than they immediately went to work to ameliorate and
improve it. They introduced among them rum, gin, brandy, and the other
comforts of life—and it is astonishing to read how soon the poor savages
learn to estimate those blessings—they likewise made known to them a
thousand remedies, by which the most inveterate diseases are alleviated and
healed; and that they might comprehend the benefits and enjoy the comforts
of these medicines, they previously introduced among them the diseases
which they were calculated to cure. By these and a variety of other methods
was the condition of these poor savages wonderfully improved; they
acquired a thousand wants of which they had before been ignorant, and as
he has most sources of happiness who has most wants to be gratified, they
were doubtlessly rendered a much happier race of beings.
But the most important branch of civilization, and which has most
strenuously been extolled by the zealous and pious fathers of the Roman
Church, is the introduction of the Christian faith. It was truly a sight that
might well inspire horror, to behold these savages tumbling among the dark
mountains of paganism, and guilty of the most horrible ignorance of
religion. It is true, they neither stole nor defrauded; they were sober, frugal,
continent, and faithful to their word; but though they acted right habitually,
it was all in vain, unless they acted so from precept. The new comers,
therefore, used every method to induce them to embrace and practice the
true religion—except, indeed, that of setting them the example.
But not withstanding all these complicated labors for their good, such was
the unparalleled obstinacy of these stubborn wretches, that they
ungratefully refused to acknowledge the strangers as their benefactors, and
persisted in disbelieving the doctrines they endeavored to inculcate; most
insolently alleging that, from their conduct, the advocates of Christianity
did not seem to believe in it themselves. Was not this too much for human
patience? Would not one suppose that the benign visitants from Europe,
provoked at their incredulity and discouraged by their stiff-necked
obstinacy, would for ever have abandoned their shores, and consigned them

to their original ignorance and misery? But no: so zealous were they to
effect the temporal comfort and eternal salvation of these pagan infidels that
they even proceeded from the milder means of persuasion to the more
painful and troublesome one of persecution—let loose among them whole
troops of fiery monks and furious bloodhounds—purified them by fire and
sword, by stake and faggot; in consequence of which indefatigable
measures the cause of Christian love and charity was so rapidly advanced
that in a few years not one fifth of the number of unbelievers existed in
South America that were found there at the time of its discovery.
What stronger right need the European settlers advance to the country than
this? Have not whole nations of uninformed savages been made acquainted
with a thousand imperious wants and indispensable comforts of which they
were before wholly ignorant? Have they not been literally hunted and
smoked out of the dens and lurking places of ignorance and infidelity, and
absolutely scourged into the right path? Have not the temporal things, the
vain baubles and filthy lucre of this world, which were too apt to engage
their worldly and selfish thoughts, been benevolently taken from them; and
have they not, instead thereof, been taught to set their affections on things
above? And finally, to use the words of a reverend Spanish father, in a letter
to his superior in Spain: "Can any one have the presumption to say that
these savage pagans have yielded anything more than an inconsiderable
recompense to their benefactors, in surrendering to them a little pitiful tract
of this dirty sublunary planet, in exchange for a glorious inheritance in the
kingdom of heaven."
Here then are three complete and undeniable sources of right established,
any one of which was more than ample to establish a property in the newly-
discovered regions of America. Now, so it has happened in certain parts of
this delightful quarter of the globe that the right of discovery has been so
strenuously asserted—the influence of cultivation so industriously
extended, and the progress of salvation and civilization so zealously
persecuted; that, what with their attendant wars, persecutions, oppressions,
diseases, and other partial evils that often hang on the skirts of great
benefits—the savage aborigines have, somehow or other, been utterly
annihilated—and this all at once brings me to a fourth right, which is worth
all the others put together. For the original claimants to the soil being all
dead and buried, and no one remaining to inherit or dispute the soil, the

Spaniards, as the next immediate occupants, entered upon the possession as
clearly as the hangman succeeds to the clothes of the malefactor—and as
they have Blackstone[21] and all the learned expounders of the law on their
side, they may set all actions of ejectment at defiance—and this last right
may be entitled the right by extermination, or in other words, the right by
gunpowder.
But lest any scruples of conscience should remain on this head, and to settle
the question of right for ever, his holiness Pope Alexander VI. issued a
mighty Bull, by which he generously granted the newly-discovered quarter
of the globe to the Spaniards and Portuguese; who, thus having law and
gospel on their side, and being inflamed with great spiritual zeal, showed
the pagan savages neither favor nor affection, but persecuted the work of
discovery, colonization, civilization, and extermination with ten times more
fury than ever.
Thus were the European worthies who first discovered America clearly
entitled to the soil, and not only entitled to the soil, but likewise to the
eternal thanks of these infidel savages, for having come so far, endured so
many perils by sea and land, and taken such unwearied pains, for no other
purpose but to improve their forlorn, uncivilized, and heathenish condition;
for having made them acquainted with the comforts of life; for having
introduced among them the light of religion; and, finally, for having hurried
them out of the world to enjoy its reward!
But as argument is never so well understood by us selfish mortals as when it
comes home to ourselves, and as I am particularly anxious that this question
should be put to rest for ever, I will suppose a parallel case, by way of
arousing the candid attention of my readers.
Let us suppose, then, that the inhabitants of the moon, by astonishing
advancement in science, and by profound insight into that ineffable lunar
philosophy, the mere flickerings of which have of late years dazzled the
feebled optics, and addled the shallow brains of the good people of our
globe—let us suppose, I say, that the inhabitants of the moon, by these
means, had arrived at such a command of their energies, such an enviable
state of perfectibility, as to control the elements, and navigate the boundless
regions of space. Let us suppose a roving crew of these soaring

philosophers, in the course of an aerial voyage of discovery among the
stars, should chance to alight upon this outlandish planet. And here I beg
my readers will not have the uncharitableness to smile, as is too frequently
the fault of volatile readers, when perusing the grave speculations of
philosophers. I am far from indulging in any sportive vein at present; nor is
the supposition I have been making so wild as many may deem it. It has
long been a very serious and anxious question with me, and many a time
and oft, in the course of my overwhelming cares and contrivances for the
welfare and protection of this my native planet, have I lain awake whole
nights debating in my mind whether it were most probable we should first
discover and civilize the moon, or the moon discover and civilize our globe.
Neither would the prodigy of sailing in the air or cruising among the stars
be a whit more astonishing and incomprehensible to us than was the
European mystery of navigating floating castles through the world of waters
to the simple savages. We have already discovered the art of coasting along
the aerial shores of our planet by means of balloons, as the savages had of
venturing along their sea-coasts in canoes; and the disparity between the
former and the aerial vehicles of the philosophers from the moon might not
be greater than that between the bark canoes of the savages and the mighty
ships of their discoverers. I might here pursue an endless chain of similar
speculations; but as they would be unimportant to my subject, I abandon
them to my reader, particularly if he be a philosopher, as matters well
worthy of his attentive consideration.
To return, then, to my supposition—let us suppose that the aerial visitants I
have mentioned, possessed of vastly superior knowledge to ourselves—that
is to say, possessed of superior knowledge in the art of extermination—
riding on hippogriffs—defended with impenetrable armor—armed with
concentrated sunbeams, and provided with vast engines, to hurl enormous
moonstones; in short, let us suppose them, if our vanity will permit the
supposition, as superior to us in knowledge, and consequently in power, as
the Europeans were to the Indians when they first discovered them. All this
is very possible, it is only our self-sufficiency that makes us think
otherwise; and I warrant the poor savages, before they had any knowledge
of the white men, armed in all the terrors of glittering steel and tremendous
gunpowder, were as perfectly convinced that they themselves were the
wisest, the most virtuous, powerful, and perfect of created beings, as are at

this present moment the lordly inhabitants of old England, the volatile
populace of France, or even the self-satisfied citizens of this most
enlightened republic.
Let us suppose, moreover, that the aerial voyagers, finding this planet to be
nothing but a howling wilderness, inhabited by us poor savages and wild
beasts, shall take formal possession of it, in the name of his most gracious
and philosophic excellency, the Man in the Moon. Finding however that
their numbers are incompetent to hold it in complete subjection, on account
of the ferocious barbarity of its inhabitants, they shall take our worthy
President, the King of England, the Emperor of Hayti, the mighty
Bonaparte, and the great King of Bantam, and, returning to their native
planet, shall carry them to court, as were the Indian chiefs led about as
spectacles in the courts of Europe.
Then making such obeisance as the etiquette of the court requires, they shall
address the puissant Man in the Moon in, as near as I can conjecture, the
following terms:——
"Most serene and mighty Potentate, whose dominions extend as far as eye
can reach, who rideth on the Great Bear, useth the sun as a looking glass,
and maintaineth unrivaled control over tides, madmen, and sea-crabs. We,
thy liege subjects, have just returned from a voyage of discovery, in the
course of which we have landed and taken possession of that obscure little
dirty planet, which thou beholdest rolling at a distance. The five uncouth
monsters which we have brought into this august present were once very
important chiefs among their fellow-savages, who are a race of beings
totally destitute of the common attributes of humanity, and differing in
everything from the inhabitants of the moon, inasmuch as they carry their
heads upon their shoulders, instead of under their arms—have two eyes
instead of one—are utterly destitute of tails, and of a variety of unseemly
complexions, particularly of horrible whiteness, instead of pea-green.
"We have moreover found these miserable savages sunk into a state of the
utmost ignorance and depravity, every man shamelessly living with his own
wife, and rearing his own children, instead of indulging in that community
of wives enjoined by the law of nature, as expounded by the philosophers of
the moon. In a word, they have scarcely a gleam of true philosophy among

them, but are, in fact, utter heretics, ignoramuses, and barbarians. Taking
compassion, therefore, on the sad condition of these sublunary wretches, we
have endeavored, while we remained on their planet, to introduce among
them the light of reason and the comforts of the moon. We have treated
them to mouthfuls of moonshine, and draughts of nitrous oxide, which they
swallowed with incredible voracity, particularly the females; and we have
likewise endeavored to instil into them the precepts of lunar philosophy. We
have insisted upon their renouncing the contemptible shackles of religion
and common sense, and adoring the profound, omnipotent, and all perfect
energy, and the ecstatic, immutable, immovable perfection. But such was
the unparalleled obstinacy of these wretched savages that they persisted in
cleaving to their wives, and adhering to their religion, and absolutely set at
nought the sublime doctrines of the moon—nay, among other abominable
heresies they even went so far as blasphemously to declare that this
ineffable planet was made of nothing more nor less than green cheese!"
At these words, the great Man in the Moon (being a very profound
philosopher) shall fall into a terrible passion, and possessing equal authority
over things that do not belong to him, as did whilome his holiness the Pope,
shall forthwith issue a formidable Bull, specifying, "That whereas a certain
crew of Lunatics have lately discovered and taken possession of a newly-
discovered planet called the earth; and that whereas it is inhabited by none
but a race of two-legged animals that carry their heads on their shoulders
instead of under their arms; cannot talk the Lunatic language; have two eyes
instead of one; are destitute of tails, and of a horrible whiteness, instead of
pea-green—therefore, and for a variety of other excellent reasons, they are
considered incapable of possessing any property in the planet they infest,
and the right and title to it are confirmed to its original discoverers. And,
furthermore, the colonists who are now about to depart to the aforesaid
planet are authorised and commanded to use every means to convert these
infidel savages from the darkness of Christianity, and make them thorough
and absolute Lunatics."

In consequence of this benevolent Bull, our philosophic benefactors go to
work with hearty zeal. They seize upon our fertile territories, scourge us
from our rightful possessions, relieve us from our wives, and when we are
unreasonable enough to complain, they will turn upon us and say,
"Miserable barbarians! ungrateful wretches! have we not come thousands of
miles to improve your worthless planet? have we not fed you with
moonshine! have we not intoxicated you with nitrous oxide? does not our
moon give you light every night? and have you the baseness to murmur,
when we claim a pitiful return for all these benefits?" But finding that we
not only persist in absolute contempt of their reasoning and disbelief in
their philosophy, but even go so far as daringly to defend our property, their
patience shall be exhausted, and they shall resort to their superior powers of
argument; hunt us with hippogriffs, transfix us with concentrated sunbeams,
demolish our cities with moonstones; until having by main force converted
us to the true faith, they shall graciously permit us to exist in the torrid
deserts of Arabia, or the frozen regions of Lapland, there to enjoy the
blessings of civilization and the charms of lunar philosophy, in much the
same manner as the reformed and enlightened savages of this country are
kindly suffered to inhabit the inhospitable forests of the north, or the
impenetrable wilderness of South America.
Thus, I hope, I have clearly proved, and strikingly illustrated, the right of
the early colonists to the possession of this country; and thus is this gigantic
question completely vanquished: so having manfully surmounted all
obstacles, and subdued all opposition, what remains but that I should
forthwith conduct my readers into the city which we have been so long in a
manner besieging? But hold: before I proceed another step I must pause to
take breath, and recover from the excessive fatigue I have undergone, in
preparing to begin this most accurate of histories. And in this I do but
imitate the example of a renowned Dutch tumbler of antiquity, who took a
start of three miles for the purpose of jumping over a hill, but having run
himself out of breath by the time he reached the foot, sat himself quietly
down for a few moments to blow, and then walked over it at his leisure.
FOOTNOTES:
[19]

Grotius: Puffendorf, b. v. c. 4, Vattel, b. i. c. 18, etc.

[20]
Vattel, b. i. ch. 17.

[21]
Bl. Com. b. ii. c. 1.

BOOK II.
TREATING OF THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF THE PROVINCE OF
NIEUW NEDERLANDTS.

CHAPTER I.

My great-grandfather by the mother's side, Hermanus Van Clattercop, when
employed to build the large stone church at Rotterdam, which stands about
three hundred yards to your left after you turn off from the Boomkeys, and
which is so conveniently constructed that all the zealous Christians of
Rotterdam prefer sleeping through a sermon there to any other church in the
city—my great-grandfather, I say, when employed to build that famous
church, did in the first place send to Delft for a box of long pipes; then
having purchased a new spitting-box and a hundredweight of the best
Virginia, he sat himself down, and did nothing for the space of three months
but smoke most laboriously. Then did he spend full three months more in
trudging on foot, and voyaging in the trekschuit, from Rotterdam to
Amsterdam—to Delft—to Haerlem—to Leyden—to the Hague, knocking
his head and breaking his pipe against every church in his road. Then did he
advance gradually nearer and nearer to Rotterdam, until he came in full
sight of the identical spot whereon the church was to be built. Then did he
spend three months longer in walking round it and round it; contemplating
it, first from one point of view and then from another—now he would be
paddled by it on the canal—now would he peep at it through a telescope,
from the other side of the Meuse—and now would he take a bird's-eye
glance at it, from the top of one of those gigantic windmills which protect
the gates of the city. The good folks of the place were on the tiptoe of
expectation and impatience—notwithstanding all the turmoil of my great-
grandfather, not a symptom of the church was yet to be seen; they even
began to fear it would never be brought into the world, but that its great
projector would lie down and die in labor of the mighty plan he had
conceived. At length, having occupied twelve good months in puffing and

paddling, and talking and walking—having traveled over all Holland, and
even taken a peep into France and Germany—having smoked five hundred
and ninety-nine pipes and three hundredweight of the best Virginia tobacco
—my great-grandfather gathered together all that knowing and industrious
class of citizens who prefer attending to anybody's business sooner than
their own, and having pulled off his coat and five pair of breeches, he
advanced sturdily up, and laid the corner-stone of the church, in the
presence of the whole multitude—just at the commencement of the
thirteenth month.
In a similar manner, and with the example of my worthy ancestor full
before my eyes, have I proceeded in writing this most authentic history. The
honest Rotterdammers no doubt thought my great-grandfather was doing
nothing at all to the purpose, while he was making such a world of prefatory
bustle about the building of his church; and many of the ingenious
inhabitants of this fair city will unquestionably suppose that all the
preliminary chapters, with the discovery, population, and final settlement of
America, were totally irrelevant and superfluous—and that the main
business, the history of New York, is not a jot more advanced than if I had
never taken up my pen. Never were wise people more mistaken in their
conjectures. In consequence of going to work slowly and deliberately, the
church came out of my grandfather's hands one of the most sumptuous,
goodly, and glorious edifices in the known world—excepting that, like our
magnificent capitol at Washington, it was begun on so grand a scale that the
good folk could not afford to finish more than the wing of it. So, likewise, I
trust, if ever I am able to finish this work on the plan I have commenced (of
which, in simple truth, I sometimes have my doubts), it will be found that I
have pursued the latest rules of my art, as exemplified in the writings of all
the great American historians, and wrought a very large history out of a
small subject—which nowadays, is considered one of the great triumphs of
historic skill. To proceed, then, with the thread of my story.
In the ever-memorable year of our Lord, 1609, on a Saturday morning, the
five-and-twentieth day of March, old style, did that "worthy and
irrecoverable discoverer (as he has justly been called), Master Henry
Hudson," set sail from Holland in a stout vessel called the Half Moon,
being employed by the Dutch East India Company to seek a north-west
passage to China.

Henry (or, as the Dutch historians call him, Hendrick) Hudson was a
seafaring man of renown, who had learned to smoke tobacco under Sir
Walter Raleigh, and is said to have been the first to introduce it into
Holland, which gained him much popularity in that country, and caused him
to find great favor in the eyes of their High Mightinesses the Lords States
General, and also of the Honorable West India Company. He was a short,
square, brawny old gentleman, with a double chin, a mastiff mouth, and a
broad copper nose, which was supposed in those days to have acquired its
fiery hue from the constant neighborhood of his tobacco pipe.
He wore a true Andrea Ferrara tucked in a leathern belt, and a commodore's
cocked hat on one side of his head. He was remarkable for always jerking
up his breeches when he gave out his orders, and his voice sounded not
unlike the brattling of a tin trumpet, owing to the number of hard north-
westers which he had swallowed in the course of his seafaring.
Such was Hendrick Hudson, of whom we have heard so much, and know so
little; and I have been thus particular in his description, for the benefit of
modern painters and statuaries, that they may represent him as he was; and
not, according to their common custom with modern heroes, make him look
like a Cæsar, or Marcus Aurelius, or the Apollo of Belvidere.
As chief mate and favorite companion, the commodore chose Master
Robert Juet, of Limehouse, in England. By some his name has been spelt
Chewit, and ascribed to the circumstance of his having been the first man
that ever chewed tobacco; but this I believe to be a mere flippancy; more
especially as certain of his progeny are living at this day, who write their
names Juet. He was an old comrade and early schoolmate of the great
Hudson, with whom he had often played truant and sailed chip boats in a
neighboring pond, when they were little boys; from whence, it is said, the
commodore first derived his bias towards a seafaring life. Certain it is that
the old people about Limehouse declared Robert Juet to be a unlucky urchin
prone to mischief, that would one day or other come to the gallows.
He grew up as boys of that kind often grow up, a rambling, heedless varlet,
tossed about in all quarters of the world, meeting with more perils and
wonders than did Sinbad the Sailor, without growing a whit more wise,
prudent, or ill-natured. Under every misfortune he comforted himself with a

quid of tobacco, and the truly philosophic maxim that "it will be all the
same thing a hundred years hence." He was skilled in the art of carving
anchors and true lovers' knot on the bulk-heads and quarter railings, and
was considered a great wit on board ship, in consequence of his playing
pranks on everybody around, and now and then even making a wry face at
old Hendrick when his back was turned.
To this universal genius are we indebted for many particulars concerning
this voyage, of which he wrote a history, at the request of the commodore,
who had an unconquerable aversion to writing himself, from having
received so many floggings about it when at school. To supply the
deficiencies of Master Juet's journal, which is written with true log-book
brevity, I have availed myself of divers family traditions, handed down
from my great-great-grandfather, who accompanied the expedition in the
capacity of cabin-boy.
From all that I can learn, few incidents worthy of remark happened in the
voyage; and it mortifies me exceedingly that I have to admit so noted an
expedition into my work without making any more of it.
Suffice it to say, the voyage was prosperous and tranquil—the crew, being a
patient people, much given to slumber and vacuity, and but little troubled
with the disease of thinking—a malady of the mind, which is the sure
breeder of discontent. Hudson had laid in abundance of gin and sour-krout,
and every man was allowed to sleep quietly at his post unless the wind
blew. True it is, some slight dissatisfaction was shown on two or three
occasions at certain unreasonable conduct of Commodore Hudson. Thus,
for instance, he forbore to shorten sail when the wind was light and the
weather serene, which was considered among the most experienced Dutch
seamen as certain weather-breeders, or prognostics, that the weather would
change for the worse. He acted, moreover, in direct contradiction to that
ancient and sage rule of the Dutch navigators, who always took in sail at
night, put the helm a-port, and turned in; by which precaution they had a
good night's rest, were sure of knowing where they were the next morning,
and stood but little chance of running down a continent in the dark. He
likewise prohibited the seamen from wearing more than five jackets and six
pair of breeches, under pretence of rendering them more alert; and no man
was permitted to go aloft and hand in sails with a pipe in his mouth, as is

the invariable Dutch custom at the present day. All these grievances, though
they might ruffle for a moment the constitutional tranquillity of the honest
Dutch tars, made but transient impression; they ate hugely, drank profusely,
and slept immeasurably; and being under the especial guidance of
Providence, the ship was safely conducted to the coast of America; where,
after sundry unimportant touchings and standings off and on, she at length,
on the fourth day of September, entered that majestic bay which at this day
expands its ample bosom before the city of New York, and which had never
before been visited by any European.[22]
It has been traditionary in our family that when the great navigator was first
blessed with a view of this enchanting island, he was observed, for the first
and only time in his life, to exhibit strong symptoms of astonishment and
admiration. He is said to have turned to master Juet, and uttered these
remarkable words, while he pointed towards this paradise of the new world
—"See! there!"—and thereupon, as was always his way when he was
uncommonly pleased, he did puff out such clouds of dense tobacco smoke
that in one minute the vessel was out of sight of land, and Master Juet was
fain to wait until the winds dispersed this impenetrable fog.
"It was indeed," as my great-grandfather used to say, though in truth I never
heard him, for he died, as might be expected, before I was born—"it was
indeed a spot on which the eye might have revelled for ever, in ever new
and never-ending beauties." The island of Manna-hata spread wide before
them, like some sweet vision of fancy, or some fair creation of industrious
magic. Its hills of smiling green swelled gently one above another, crowned
with lofty trees of luxuriant growth; some pointing their tapering foliage
towards the clouds which were gloriously transparent, and others loaded
with a verdant burden of clambering vines, bowing their branches to the
earth that was covered with flowers. On the gentle declivities of the hills
were scattered in gay profusion the dog-wood, the sumach, and the wild
brier, whose scarlet berries and white blossoms glowed brightly among the
deep green of the surrounding foliage; and here and there a curling column
of smoke rising from the little glens that opened along the shore seemed to
promise the weary voyagers a welcome at the hands of their fellow-
creatures. As they stood gazing with entranced attention on the scene before
them, a red man, crowned with feathers, issued from one of these glens, and
after contemplating in silent wonder the gallant ship, as she sat like a stately

swan swimming on a silver lake, sounded the war-whoop, and bounded into
the woods like a wild deer, to the utter astonishment of the phlegmatic
Dutchmen, who had never heard such a noise or witnessed such a caper in
their whole lives.
Of the transactions of our adventurers with the savages, and how the latter
smoked copper pipes and ate dried currants; how they brought great store of
tobacco and oysters; how they shot one of the ship's crew, and how he was
buried, I shall say nothing, being that I consider them unimportant to my
history. After tarrying a few days in the bay, in order to refresh themselves
after their seafaring, our voyagers weighed anchor, to explore a mighty river
which emptied into the bay. This river, it is said, was known among the
savages by the name of the Shatemuck; though we are assured in an
excellent little history published in 1674, by John Josselyn, gent., that it was
called the Mohegan;[23] and Master Richard Bloome, who wrote some time
afterwards, asserts the same—so that I very much incline in favor of the
opinion of these two honest gentlemen. Be this as it may, up this river did
the adventurous Hendrick proceed, little doubting but it would turn to be the
much-looked-for passage to China!
The journal goes on to make mention of divers interviews between the crew
and the natives in the voyage up the river; but as they would be impertinent
to my history, I shall pass over them in silence, except the following dry
joke, played off by the old commodore and his schoolfellow Robert Juet,
which does such vast credit to their experimental philosophy that I cannot
refrain from inserting it. "Our master and his mate determined to try some
of the chiefe men of the countrey whether they had any treacherie in them.
So they tooke them downe into the cabin, and gave them so much wine and
acqua vitæ that they were all merrie; and one of them had his wife with
him, which sate so modestly, as any of our countrey women would do in a
strange place. In the end, one of them was drunke, which had been aboarde
of our ship all the time that we had been there, and that was strange to them,
for they could not tell how to take it."[24]
Having satisfied himself by this ingenious experiment that the natives were
an honest, social race of jolly roysterers, who had no objection to a drinking
bout, and were very merry in their cups, the old commodore chuckled
hugely to himself, and thrusting a double quid of tobacco in his cheek,

directed Master Juet to have it carefully recorded, for the satisfaction of all
the natural philosophers of the University of Leyden—which done, he
proceeded on his voyage with great self-complacency. After sailing,
however, above a hundred miles up the river, he found the watery world
around him began to grow more shallow and confined, the current more
rapid and perfectly fresh—phenomena not uncommon in the ascent of
rivers, but which puzzled the honest Dutchman prodigiously. A consultation
was therefore called, and having deliberated full six hours, they were
brought to a determination by the ship's running aground—whereupon they
unanimously concluded that there was but little chance of getting to China
in this direction. A boat, however, was despatched to explore higher up the
river, which, on its return, confirmed the opinion; upon this the ship was
warped off and put about with great difficulty, being, like most of her sex,
exceedingly hard to govern; and the adventurous Hudson, according to the
account of my great-great-grandfather, returned down the river—with a
prodigious flea in his ear!
Being satisfied that there was little likelihood of getting to China, unless,
like the blind man, he returned from whence he set out, and took a fresh
start, he forthwith recrossed the sea to Holland, where he was received with
great welcome by the Honorable East India Company, who were very much
rejoiced to see him come back safe—with their ship; and at a large and
respectable meeting of the first merchants and burgomasters of Amsterdam
it was unanimously determined that, as a munificent reward for the eminent
services he had performed, and the important discovery he had made, the
great river Mohegan should be called after his name; and it continues to be
called Hudson River unto this very day.
FOOTNOTES:
[22]
True it is, and I am not ignorant of the fact, that in a certain
apocryphal book of voyages, compiled by one Hackluyt, is to be
found a letter written to Francis the First, by one Giovanni, or
John Verazzani, on which some writers are inclined to found a
belief that this delightful bay had been visited nearly a century
previous to the voyage of the enterprising Hudson. Now this

(albeit it has met with the countenance of certain very judicious
and learned men) I hold in utter disbelief, and that for various
good and substantial reasons: First, because on strict examination
it will be found that the description given by this Verazzani
applies about as well to the bay of New York as it does to my
nightcap. Secondly, because that this John Verazzani, for whom I
already begin to feel a most bitter enmity, is a native of Florence,
and everybody knows the crafty wiles of these losel Florentines,
by which they filched away the laurels from the brows of the
immortal Colon (vulgarly called Columbus), and bestowed them
on their officious townsman, Amerigo Vespucci; and I make no
doubt they are equally ready to rob the illustrious Hudson of the
credit of discovering this beauteous island, adorned by the city of
New York, and placing it beside their usurped discovery of South
America. And, thirdly, I award my decision in favor of the
pretensions of Hendrick Hudson, inasmuch as his expedition
sailed from Holland, being truly and absolutely a Dutch
enterprise; and though all the proofs in the world were introduced
on the other side, I would set them at nought as undeserving my
attention. If these three reasons be not sufficient to satisfy every
burgher of this ancient city, all I can say is they are degenerate
descendants from their venerable Dutch ancestors, and totally
unworthy the trouble of convincing. Thus, therefore, the title of
Hendrick Hudson to his renowned discovery is fully vindicated.

[23]
This river is likewise laid down in Ogilvy's map as Manhattan—
Noordt, Montaigne, and Mauritius river.

[24]
Juet's Journ. Purch. Pil.

CHAPTER II.

The delectable accounts given by the great Hudson and Master Juet of the
country they had discovered excited not a little talk and speculation among
the good people of Holland. Letters patent were granted by Government to
an association of merchants, called the West India Company, for the
exclusive trade on Hudson River, on which they erected a trading-house
called Fort Aurania, or Orange, from whence did spring the great city of
Albany. But I forbear to dwell on the various commercial and colonizing
enterprises which took place; among which was that of Mynheer Adrian
Block, who discovered and gave a name to Block Island, since famous for
its cheese—and shall barely confine myself to that which gave birth to this
renowned city.
It was some three or four years after the return of the immortal Hendrick
that a crew of honest Low Dutch colonists set sail from the city of
Amsterdam for the shores of America. It is an irreparable loss to history,
and a great proof of the darkness of the age and the lamentable neglect of
the noble art of book-making, since so industriously cultivated by knowing
sea-captains and learned supercargoes, that an expedition so interesting and
important in its results should be passed over in utter silence. To my great-
great-grandfather am I again indebted for the few facts I am enabled to give
concerning it—he having once more embarked for this country, with a full
determination, as he said, of ending his days here—and of begetting a race
of Knickerbockers that should rise to be great men in the land.
The ship in which these illustrious adventurers set sail was called the Goede
Vrouw, or good woman, in compliment to the wife of the president of the
West India Company, who was allowed by everybody, except her husband,
to be a sweet-tempered lady—when not in liquor. It was in truth a most
gallant vessel, of the most approved Dutch construction, and made by the
ablest ship-carpenters of Amsterdam, who, it is well known, always model
their ships after the fair forms of their countrywomen. Accordingly, it had
one hundred feet in the beam, one hundred feet in the keel, and one hundred
feet from the bottom of the stern-post to the taffrail. Like the beauteous
model, who was declared to be the greatest belle in Amsterdam, it was full
in the bows, with a pair of enormous catheads, a copper bottom, and withal
a most prodigious poop.

The architect, who was somewhat of a religious man, far from decorating
the ship with pagan idols, such as Jupiter, Neptune or Hercules, which
heathenish abominations, I have no doubt, occasion the misfortunes and
shipwreck of many a noble vessel, he I say, on the contrary, did laudably
erect for a head, a goodly image of St. Nicholas, equipped with a low,
broad-brimmed hat, a huge pair of Flemish trunk hose, and a pipe that
reached to the end of the bow-sprit. Thus gallantly furnished, the staunch
ship floated sideways, like a majestic goose, out of the harbor of the great
city of Amsterdam, and all the bells that were not otherwise engaged, rung a
triple bobmajor on the joyful occasion.
My great-great-grandfather remarks, that the voyage was uncommonly
prosperous, for, being under the especial care of the ever-revered St.
Nicholas, the Goede Vrouw seemed to be endowed with qualities unknown
to common vessels. Thus she made as much leeway as headway, could get
along very nearly as fast with the wind a head as when it was a-poop, and
was particularly great in a calm; in consequence of which singular
advantage she made out to accomplish her voyage in a very few months,
and came to anchor at the mouth of the Hudson, a little to the east of Gibbet
Island.
Here lifting up their eyes they beheld, on what is at present called the Jersey
shore, a small Indian village, pleasantly embowered in a grove of spreading
elms, and the natives all collected on the beach, gazing in stupid admiration
at the Goede Vrouw. A boat was immediately dispatched to enter into a
treaty with them, and, approaching the shore, hailed them through a trumpet
in the most friendly terms; but so horribly confounded were these poor
savages at the tremendous and uncouth sound of the Low Dutch language
that they one and all took to their heels, and scampered over the Bergen
Hills: nor did they stop until they had buried themselves, head and ears, in
the marshes on the other side, where they all miserably perished to a man;
and their bones being collected and decently covered by the Tammany
Society of that day, formed that singular mound called Rattlesnake Hill,
which rises out of the center of the salt marshes a little to the east of the
Newark Causeway.
Animated by this unlooked-for victory, our valiant heroes sprang ashore in
triumph, took possession of the soil as conquerors, in the name of their

High Mightinesses the Lords States General; and marching fearlessly
forward, carried the village of Communipaw by storm, not withstanding
that it was vigorously defended by some half a score of old squaws and
pappooses. On looking about them they were so transported with the
excellences of the place that they had very little doubt the blessed St.
Nicholas had guided them thither as the very spot whereon to settle their
colony. The softness of the soil was wonderfully adapted to the driving of
piles; the swamps and marshes around them afforded ample opportunities
for the constructing of dykes and dams; the shallowness of the shore was
peculiarly favorable to the building of docks; in a word, this spot abounded
with all the requisites for the foundation of a great Dutch City. On making a
faithful report, therefore, to the crew of the Goede Vrouw, they one and all
determined that this was the destined end of their voyage. Accordingly, they
descended from the Goede Vrouw, men, women and children, in goodly
groups, as did the animals of yore from the ark, and formed themselves into
a thriving settlement, which they called by the Indian name Communipaw.
As all the world is doubtless perfectly acquainted with Communipaw, it
may seem somewhat superfluous to treat of it in the present work; but my
readers will please to recollect, that not withstanding it is my chief desire to
satisfy the present age, yet I write likewise for posterity, and have to consult
the understanding and curiosity of some half a score of centuries yet to
come; by which time, perhaps, were it not for this invaluable history, the
great Communipaw, like Babylon, Carthage, Nineveh, and other great
cities, might be perfectly extinct—sunk and forgotten in its own mud—its
inhabitants turned into oysters,[25] and even its situation a fertile subject of
learned controversy and hard-headed investigation among indefatigable
historians. Let me, then, piously rescue from oblivion the humble relics of a
place which was the egg from whence was hatched the mighty city of New
York!
Communipaw is at present but a small village, pleasantly situated among
rural scenery, on that beauteous part of the Jersey shore which was known
in ancient legends by the name of Pavonia,[26] and commands a grand
prospect of the superb bay of New York. It is within but half an hour's sail
of the latter place, provided you have a fair wind, and may be distinctly
seen from the city. Nay, it is a well known fact, which I can testify from my
own experience, that on a clear still summer evening you may hear from the

battery of New York the obstreperous peals of broad-mouthed laughter of
the Dutch negroes at Communipaw, who, like most other negroes, are
famous for their risible powers. This is peculiarly the case on Sunday
evenings, when, it is remarked by an ingenious and observant philosopher,
who has made great discoveries in the neighborhood of this city, that they
always laugh loudest, which he attributes to the circumstance of their
having their holiday clothes on.
These negroes, in fact, like the monks in the dark ages, engross all the
knowledge of the place, and, being infinitely more adventurous, and more
knowing than their masters, carry on all the foreign trade, making frequent
voyages to town in canoes loaded with oysters, buttermilk and cabbages.
They are great astrologers, predicting the different changes of weather
almost as accurately as an almanac; they are, moreover, exquisite
performers on three-stringed fiddles; in whistling they almost boast the far-
famed powers of Orpheus' lyre, for not a horse nor an ox in the place, when
at the plough or before the wagon, will budge a foot until he hears the well
known whistle of his black driver and companion. And from their amazing
skill at casting up accounts upon their fingers they are regarded with as
much veneration as were the disciples of Pythagoras of yore when initiated
into the sacred quaternary of numbers.
As to the honest burghers of Communipaw, like wise men and sound
philosophers, they never look beyond their pipes, nor trouble their heads
about any affairs out of their immediate neighborhood; so that they live in
profound and enviable ignorance of all the troubles, anxieties, and
revolutions of this distracted planet. I am even told that many among them
do verily believe that Holland, of which they have heard so much from
tradition, is situated somewhere on Long Island; that Spiking-devil and the
Narrows are the two ends of the world; that the country is still under the
dominion of their High Mightinesses, and that the city of New York still
goes by the name of Nieuw Amsterdam. They meet every Saturday
afternoon at the only tavern in the place, which bears as a sign a square-
headed likeness of the Prince of Orange, where they smoke a silent pipe by
way of promoting social conviviality, and invariably drink a mug of cider to
the success of Admiral Van Tromp, whom they imagine is still sweeping the
British Channel with a broom at his masthead.

Communipaw, in short, is one of the numerous little villages in the vicinity
of this most beautiful of cities, which are so many strongholds and
fastnesses whither the primitive manners of our Dutch forefathers have
retreated, and where they are cherished with devout and scrupulous
strictness. The dress of the original settlers is handed down inviolate from
father to son—the identical broad-brimmed hat, broad-skirted coat, and
broad-bottomed breeches continue from generation to generation; and
several gigantic knee-buckles of massy silver are still in wear that made
gallant display in the days of the patriarchs of Communipaw. The language
likewise continues unadulterated by barbarous innovations; and so critically
correct is the village schoolmaster in his dialect that his reading of a Low
Dutch psalm has much the same effect on the nerves as the filing of a hand-
saw.
FOOTNOTES:
[25]
Men by inaction degenerate into oysters.—Kaimes.

[26]
Pavonia, in the ancient maps, is given to a tract of country
extending from about Hoboken to Amboy.

CHAPTER III.

Having in the trifling digression which concluded the last chapter
discharged the filial duty which the city of New York owed to
Communipaw, as being the mother settlement; and having given a faithful
picture of it as it stands at present, I return with a soothing sentiment of
self-approbation to dwell upon its early history. The crew of the Goede
Vrouw being soon reinforced by fresh importations from Holland, the
settlement went jollily on increasing in magnitude and prosperity. The
neighboring Indians in a short time became accustomed to the uncouth
sound of the Dutch language, and an intercourse gradually took place

between them and the new comers. The Indians were much given to long
talks, and the Dutch to long silence; in this particular, therefore, they
accommodated each other completely. The chiefs would make long
speeches about the big bull, the wabash, and the Great Spirit, to which the
others would listen very attentively, smoke their pipes, and grunt yah, myn-
her; whereat the poor savages were wondrously delighted. They instructed
the new settlers in the best art of curing and smoking tobacco, while the
latter in return, made them drunk with true Hollands, and then taught them
the art of making bargains.
A brisk trade for furs was soon opened. The Dutch traders were
scrupulously honest in their dealings, and purchased by weight, establishing
it as an invariable table of avoirdupois that the hand of a Dutchman
weighed one pound, and his foot two pounds. It is true the simple Indians
were often puzzled by the great disproportion between bulk and weight, for
let them place a bundle of furs never so large in one scale, and a Dutchman
put his hand or foot in the other, the bundle was sure to kick the beam;
never was a package of furs known to weigh more than two pounds in the
market of Communipaw!
This is a singular fact; but I have it direct from my great-great-grandfather,
who had risen to considerable importance in the colony, being promoted to
the office of weigh-master, on account of the uncommon heaviness of his
foot.
The Dutch possessions in this part of the globe began now to assume a very
thriving appearance, and were comprehended under the general title of
Nieuw Nederlandts, on account, as the sage Vander Donck observes, of
their great resemblance to the Dutch Netherlands, which indeed was truly
remarkable, excepting that the former was rugged and mountainous, and the
latter level and marshy. About this time the tranquillity of the Dutch
colonists was doomed to suffer a temporary interruption. In 1614, Captain
Sir Samuel Argal, sailing under a commission from Dale, Governor of
Virginia, visited the Dutch settlements on Hudson River, and demanded
their submission to the English crown and Virginian dominion. To this
arrogant demand, as they were in no condition to resist it, they submitted
for the time, like discreet and reasonable men.

It does not appear that the valiant Argal molested the settlement of
Communipaw; on the contrary, I am told that when his vessel first hove in
sight, the worthy burghers were seized with such a panic that they fell to
smoking their pipes with astonishing vehemence; insomuch that they
quickly raised a cloud, which, combining with the surrounding woods and
marshes, completely enveloped and concealed their beloved village, and
overhung the fair regions of Pavonia—so that the terrible Captain Argal
passed on, totally unsuspicious that a sturdy little Dutch settlement lay
snugly couched in the mud, under cover of all this pestilent vapor. In
commemoration of this fortunate escape, the worthy inhabitants have
continued to smoke almost without intermission unto this very day, which is
said to be the cause of the remarkable fog which often hangs over
Communipaw of a clear afternoon.
Upon the departure of the enemy our magnanimous ancestors took full six
months to recover their wind, having been exceedingly discomposed by the
consternation and hurry of affairs. They then called a council of safety to
smoke over the state of the provinces. At this council presided one Oloffe
Van Kortlandt, who had originally been one of a set of peripatetic
philosophers who passed much of their time sunning themselves on the side
of the great canal of Amsterdam in Holland; enjoying, like Diogenes, a free
and unencumbered estate in sunshine. His name Kortlandt (Shortland or
Lackland) was supposed, like that of the illustrious Jean Sansterre, to
indicate that he had no land; but he insisted, on the contrary, that he had
great landed estates somewhere in Terra Incognita; and he had come out to
the new world to look after them.
Like all land speculators, he was much given to dreaming. Never did
anything extraordinary happen at Communipaw but he declared that he had
previously dreamt it, being one of those infallible prophets who predict
events after they have come to pass. This supernatural gift was as highly
valued among the burghers of Pavonia as among the enlightened nations of
antiquity. The wise Ulysses was more indebted to his sleeping than his
waking moments for his most subtle achievements, and seldom undertook
any great exploit without first soundly sleeping upon it; and the same may
be said of Oloffe Van Kortlandt, who was thence aptly denominated Oloffe
the Dreamer.

As yet his dreams and speculations had turned to little personal profit; and
he was as much a lackland as ever. Still he carried a high head in the
community: if his sugar-loaf hat was rather the worse for wear, he set it oft
with a taller cock's tail; if his shirt was none of the cleanest, he puffed it out
the more at the bosom; and if the tail of it peeped out of a hole in his
breeches, it at least proved that it really had a tail and was not a mere ruffle.
The worthy Van Kortlandt, in the council in question, urged the policy of
emerging from the swamps of Communipaw and seeking some more
eligible site for the seat of empire. Such, he said, was the advice of the good
St. Nicholas, who had appeared to him in a dream the night before, and
whom he had known by his broad hat, his long pipe, and the resemblance
which he bore to the figure on the bow of the Goede Vrouw.
Many have thought this dream was a mere invention of Oloffe Van
Kortlandt, who, it is said, had ever regarded Communipaw with an evil eye,
because he had arrived there after all the land had been shared out, and who
was anxious to change the seat of empire to some new place, where he
might be present at the distribution of "town lots." But we must not give
heed to such insinuations, which are too apt to be advanced against those
worthy gentlemen engaged in laying out towns and in other land
speculations.
This perilous enterprise was to be conducted by Oloffe himself, who chose
as lieutenants, or coadjutors, Mynheers Abraham Harden Broeck, Jacobus
Van Zandt, and Winant Ten Broeck—three indubitably great men, but of
whose history, although I have made diligent inquiry, I can learn but little
previous to their leaving Holland. Nor need this occasion much surprise; for
adventurers, like prophets, though they make great noise abroad, have
seldom much celebrity in their own countries; but this much is certain that
the overflowings and offscourings of a country are invariably composed of
the richest parts of the soil. And here I cannot help remarking how
convenient it would be to many of our great men and great families of
doubtful origin, could they have the privilege of the heroes of yore, who,
whenever their origin was involved in obscurity, modestly announced
themselves descended from a god, and who never visited a foreign country
but what they told some cock-and-bull stories about their being kings and
princes at home. This venal trespass on the truth, though it has been

occasionally played off by some pseudo marquis, baronet, and other
illustrious foreigner, in our land of good-natured credulity, has been
completely discountenanced in this sceptical, matter-of-fact age; and I even
question whether any tender virgin, who was accidentally and
unaccountably enriched with a bantling, would save her character at parlor
firesides and evening tea-parties by ascribing the phenomenon to a swan, a
shower of gold, or a river god.
Had I the benefit of mythology and classic fable above alluded to, I should
have furnished the first of the trio with a pedigree equal to that of the
proudest hero of antiquity. His name, Van Zandt—that is to say, from the
dirt—gave reasons to suppose that, like Triptolemus, Themis, the Cyclops,
and the Titans, he had sprung from Dame Terra or the Earth! This
supposition is strongly corroborated by his size, for it is well known that all
the progeny of Mother Earth were of a gigantic stature; and Van Zandt, we
are told, was a tall, raw-boned man, above six feet high, with an
astonishingly hard head. Nor is this origin of the illustrious Van Zandt a
whit more improbable or repugnant to belief than what is related and
universally admitted of certain of our greatest, or rather richest, men, who
we are told with the utmost gravity did originally spring from a dunghill!
Of the second of the trio but faint accounts have reached to this time, which
mention that he was a sturdy, obstinate, worrying, bustling little man; and,
from being usually equipped in an old pair of buckskins, was familiarly
dubbed Harden Broeck, or Tough Breeches.
Ten Broeck completed this junto of adventurers. It is a singular but
ludicrous fact, which, were I not scrupulous in recording the whole truth, I
should almost be tempted to pass over in silence, as incompatible with the
gravity and dignity of history, that this worthy gentleman should likewise
have been nicknamed from what in modern times is considered the most
ignoble part of the dress. But, in truth, the small-clothes seems to have been
a very dignified garment in the eyes of our venerated ancestors, in all
probability from its covering that part of the body which has been
pronounced "the seat of honor."
The name of Ten Broeck, or, as it was sometimes spelt, Tin Broeck, has
been indifferently translated into Ten Breeches and Tin Breeches. The most

elegant and ingenious writers on the subject declare in favor of Tin, or
rather Thin, Breeches; whence they infer that the original bearer of it was a
poor but merry rogue, whose galligaskins were none of the soundest, and
who, peradventure, may have been the author of that truly philosophical
stanza:——

"Then why should we quarrel for riches,
Or any such glittering toys?
A light heart and thin pair of breeches
Will go through the world, my brave boys!"

The High Dutch commentators, however, declare in favor of the other
reading, and affirm that the worthy in question was a burly, bulbous man,
who, in sheer ostentation of his venerable progenitors, was the first to
introduce into the settlement the ancient Dutch fashion of ten pair of
breeches.
Such was the trio of coadjutors chosen by Oloffe the Dreamer to
accompany him in this voyage into unknown realms; as to the names of his
crews they have not been handed down by history.
Having, as I before observed, passed much of his life in the open air, among
the peripatetic philosophers of Amsterdam, Oloffe had become familiar
with the aspect of the heavens, and could as accurately determine when a
storm was brewing or a squall rising as a dutiful husband can foresee, from
the brow of his spouse, when a tempest is gathering about his ears. Having
pitched upon a time for his voyage, when the skies appeared propitious, he
exhorted all his crews to take a good night's rest, wind up their family
affairs, and make their wills; precautions taken by our forefathers, even in
after times when they became more adventurous, and voyaged to
Haverstraw, or Kaatskill, or Groodt Esopus, or any other far country,
beyond the great waters of the Tappen Zee.

CHAPTER IV.

And now the rosy blush of morn began to mantle in the east, and soon the
rising sun, emerging from amidst golden and purple clouds, shed his
blithesome rays on the tin weathercocks of Communipaw. It was that
delicious season of the year when Nature, breaking from the chilling
thraldom of old winter, like a blooming damsel from the tyranny of a sordid
old father, threw herself, blushing with ten thousand charms, into the arms
of youthful Spring. Every tufted copse and blooming grove resounded with
the notes of hymeneal love. The very insects, as they sipped the dew that
gemmed the tender grass of the meadows, joined in the joyous
epithalamium—the virgin bud timidly put forth its blushes, "the voice of the
turtle was heard in the land," and the heart of man dissolved away in
tenderness. Oh, sweet Theocritus! had I thine oaten reed, wherewith thou
erst did charm the gay Sicilian plains; or, oh, gentle Bion! thy pastoral pipe
wherein the happy swains of the Lesbian isle so much delighted, then might
I attempt to sing, in soft Bucolic or negligent Idyllium, the rural beauties of
the scene; but having nothing, save this jaded goose-quill, wherewith to
wing my flight, I must fain resign all poetic disportings of the fancy, and
pursue my narrative in humble prose; comforting myself with the hope, that
though it may not steal so sweetly upon the imagination of my reader, yet it
may commend itself, with virgin modesty, to his better judgment, clothed in
the chaste and simple garb of truth.
No sooner did the first rays of cheerful Phoebus dart into the windows of
Communipaw than the little settlement was all in motion. Forth issued from
his castle the sage Van Kortlandt, and seizing a conch shell, blew a far-
resounding blast, that soon summoned all his lusty followers. Then did they
trudge resolutely down to the water side, escorted by a multitude of
relatives and friends, who all went down, as the common phrase expresses
it, "to see them off." And this shows the antiquity of those long family
processions, often seen in our city, composed of all ages, sizes, and sexes,
laden with bundles and bandboxes, escorting some bevy of country cousins
about to depart for home in a market-boat.
The good Oloffe bestowed his forces in a squadron of three canoes, and
hoisted his flag on board a little round Dutch boat, shaped not unlike a tub,
which had formerly been the jolly-boat of the Goede Vrouw. And now, all
being embarked, they bade farewell to the gazing throng upon the beach,
who continued shouting after them, even when out of hearing, wishing them

a happy voyage, advising them to take good care of themselves, not to get
drowned—with an abundance of other of those sage and invaluable
cautions generally given by landsmen to such as go down to the sea in
ships, and adventure upon the deep waters. In the meanwhile the voyagers
cheerily urged their course across the crystal bosom of the bay, and soon
left behind them the green shores of ancient Pavonia.
And first they touched at two small islands which lie nearly opposite
Communipaw, and which are said to have been brought into existence about
the time of the great irruption of the Hudson, when it broke through the
Highlands and made its way to the ocean.[27] For, in this tremendous uproar
of the waters we are told that many huge fragments of rock and land were
rent from the mountains and swept down by this runaway river, for sixty or
seventy miles; where some of them ran aground on the shoals just opposite
Communipaw, and formed the identical islands in question, while others
drifted out to sea, and were never heard of more. A sufficient proof of the
fact is, that the rock which forms the bases of these islands is exactly
similar to that of the Highlands; and moreover, one of our philosophers,
who has diligently compared the agreement of their respective surfaces, has
even gone so far as to assure me, in confidence, that Gibbet Island was
originally nothing more nor less than a wart on Anthony's nose.[28]
Leaving these wonderful little isles, they next coasted by Governor's Island,
since terrible from its frowning fortress and grinning batteries. They would
by no means, however, land upon this island, since they doubted much it
might be the abode of demons and spirits, which in those days did greatly
abound throughout this savage and pagan country.
Just at this time a shoal of jolly porpoises came rolling and tumbling by,
turning up their sleek sides to the sun, and spouting up the briny element in
sparkling showers. No sooner did the sage Oloffe mark this than he was
greatly rejoiced. "This," exclaimed he, "if I mistake not, augurs well—the
porpoise is a fat, well-conditioned fish—a burgomaster among fishes—his
looks betoken ease, plenty, and prosperity. I greatly admire this round fat
fish, and doubt not but this is a happy omen of the success of our
undertaking." So saying, he directed his squadron to steer in the track of
these alderman fishes.

Turning, therefore, directly to the left, they swept up the strait, vulgarly
called the East River. And here the rapid tide which courses through this
strait, seizing on the gallant tub in which Commodore Van Kortlandt had
embarked, hurried it forward with a velocity unparalleled in a Dutch boat,
navigated by Dutchmen; insomuch that the good commodore, who had all
his life long been accustomed only to the drowsy navigation of canals, was
more than ever convinced that they were in the hands of some supernatural
power, and that the jolly porpoises were towing them to some fair haven
that was to fulfill all their wishes and expectations.
Thus borne away by the resistless current, they doubled that boisterous
point of land since called Corlear's Hook,[29] and leaving to the right the
rich winding cove of the Wallabout, they drifted into a magnificent expanse
of water, surrounded by pleasant shores, whose verdure was exceedingly
refreshing to the eye. While the voyagers were looking around them, on
what they conceived to be a serene and sunny lake, they beheld at a distance
a crew of painted savages busily employed in fishing, who seemed more
like the genii of this romantic region—their slender canoe lightly balanced
like a feather on the undulating surface of the bay.
At sight of these the hearts of the heroes of Communipaw were not a little
troubled. But as good fortune would have it, at the bow of the commodore's
boat was stationed a valiant man, named Hendrick Kip (which, being
interpreted, means chicken, a name given him in token of his courage).
No sooner did he behold these varlet heathens, than he trembled with
excessive valor, and although a good half mile distant, he seized a
musketoon that lay at hand, and turning away his head, fired it most
intrepidly in the face of the blessed sun. The blundering weapon recoiled,
and gave the valiant Kip an ignominious kick, which laid him prostrate with
uplifted heels in the bottom of the boat. But such was the effect of this
tremendous fire, that the wild men of the woods, struck with consternation,
seized hastily upon their paddles, and shot away into one of the deep inlets
of the Long Island shore.
This signal victory gave new spirits to the voyagers, and in honor of the
achievement they gave the name of the valiant Kip to the surrounding bay,
and it has continued to be called Kip's Bay from that time to the present.

The heart of the good Van Kortlandt—who, having no land of his own, was
a great admirer of other people's—expanded to the full size of a peppercorn
at the sumptuous prospect of rich unsettled country around him, and falling
into a delicious reverie, he straightway began to riot in the possession of
vast meadows of salt marsh and interminable patches of cabbages. From
this delectable vision he was all at once awakened by the sudden turning of
the tide, which would soon have hurried him from this land of promise, had
not the discreet navigator given signal to steer for shore; where they
accordingly landed hard by the rocky heights of Bellevue—that happy
retreat where our jolly aldermen eat for the good of the city, and fatten the
turtle that are sacrificed on civic solemnities.
Here, seated on the greensward, by the side of a small stream that ran
sparkling among the grass, they refreshed themselves after the toils of the
seas by feasting lustily on the ample stores which they had provided for this
perilous voyage. Thus having well fortified their deliberate powers, they fell
into an earnest consultation what was further to be done. This was the first
council dinner ever eaten at Bellevue by Christian burghers; and here, as
tradition relates, did originate the great family feud between the
Hardenbroecks and the Tenbroecks, which afterwards had a singular
influence on the building of the city. The sturdy Harden Broeck, whose eyes
had been wondrously delighted with the salt marshes which spread their
reeking bosoms along the coast, at the bottom of Kip's Bay, counseled by all
means to return thither, and found the intended city. This was strenuously
opposed by the unbending Ten Broeck, and many testy arguments passed
between them. The particulars of this controversy have not reached us,
which is ever to be lamented; this much is certain, that the sage Oloffe put
an end to the dispute, by determining to explore still farther in the route
which the mysterious porpoises had so clearly pointed out; whereupon the
sturdy Tough Breeches abandoned the expedition, took possession of a
neighboring hill, and in a fit of great wrath peopled all that tract of country,
which has continued to be inhabited by the Hardenbroecks unto this very
day.
By this time the jolly Phoebus, like some wanton urchin sporting on the
side of a green hill, began to roll down the declivity of the heavens; and
now, the tide having once more turned in their favor, the Pavonians again

committed themselves to its discretion, and coasting along the western
shores, were borne towards the straits of Blackwell's Island.
And here the capricious wanderings of the current occasioned not a little
marvel and perplexity to these illustrious mariners. Now would they be
caught by the wanton eddies, and, sweeping round a jutting point, would
wind deep into some romantic little cove, that indented the fair island of
Manna-hata; now were they hurried narrowly by the very bases of
impending rocks, mantled with the flaunting grape-vine, and crowned with
groves, which threw a broad shade on the waves beneath; and anon they
were borne away into the mid-channel and wafted along with a rapidity that
very much discomposed the sage Van Kortlandt, who, as he saw the land
swiftly receding on either side, began exceedingly to doubt that terra firma
was giving them the slip.
Wherever the voyagers turned their eyes a new creation seemed to bloom
around. No signs of human thrift appeared to check the delicious wildness
of Nature, who here reveled in all her luxuriant variety. Those hills, now
bristled like the fretful porcupine, with rows of poplars (vain upstart plants!
minions of wealth and fashion!), were then adorned with the vigorous
natives of the soil—the lordly oak, the generous chestnut, the graceful elm
—while here and there the tulip-tree reared its majestic head, the giant of
the forest. Where now are seen the gay retreats of luxury—villas half buried
in twilight bowers, whence the amorous flute oft breathes the sighings of
some city swain—there the fish-hawk built his solitary nest, on some dry
tree that overlooked his watery domain. The timid deer fed undisturbed
along those shores now hallowed by the lover's moonlight walk, and printed
by the slender foot of beauty; and a savage solitude extended over those
happy regions, where now are reared the stately towers of the Joneses, the
Schermerhornes, and the Rhinelanders.
Thus gliding in silent wonder through these new and unknown scenes, the
gallant squadron of Pavonia swept by the foot of a promontory, which
strutted forth boldly into the waves, and seemed to frown upon them as they
brawled against its base. This is the bluff well known to modern mariners
by the name of Gracie's Point, from the fair castle which, like an elephant, it
carries upon its back. And here broke upon their view a wild and varied
prospect, where land and water were beauteously intermingled, as though

they had combined to heighten and set off each other's charms. To their
right lay the sedgy point of Blackwell's Island, dressed in the fresh garniture
of living green; beyond it stretched the pleasant coast of Sundswick, and the
small harbor well known by the name of Hallet's Cove—a place infamous
in latter days, by reason of its being the haunt of pirates who infest these
seas, robbing orchards and water-melon patches, and insulting gentlemen
navigators when voyaging in their pleasure boats. To the left a deep bay, or
rather creek, gracefully receded between shores fringed with forests, and
forming a kind of vista through which were beheld the sylvan regions of
Haerlem, Morrissania, and East Chester. Here the eye reposed with delight
on a richly weeded country, diversified by tufted knolls, shadowy intervals,
and waving lines of upland, swelling above each other; while over the
whole the purple mists of spring diffused a hue of soft voluptuousness.
Just before them the grand course of the stream, making a sudden bend,
wound among embowered promontories and shores of emerald verdure that
seemed to melt into the wave. A character of gentleness and mild fertility
prevailed around. The sun had just descended, and the thin haze of twilight,
like a transparent veil drawn over the bosom of virgin beauty, heightened
the charms which it half concealed.
Ah! witching scenes of foul delusion! Ah! hapless voyagers, gazing with
simple wonder on these Circean shores! Such, alas! are they, poor easy
souls, who listen to the seductions of a wicked world; treacherous are its
smiles, fatal its caresses! He who yields to its enticements launches upon a
whelming tide, and trusts his feeble bark among the dimpling eddies of a
whirlpool! And thus it fared with the worthies of Pavonia, who, little
mistrusting the guileful sense before them, drifted quietly on, until they
were aroused by an uncommon tossing and agitation of their vessels. For
now the late dimpling current began to brawl around them, and the waves to
boil and foam with horrible fury. Awakened as if from a dream, the
astonished Oloffe bawled aloud to put about, but his words were lost amid
the roaring of the waters. And now ensued a scene of direful consternation.
At one time they were borne with dreadful velocity among tumultuous
breakers; at another, hurried down boisterous rapids. Now they were nearly
dashed upon the Hen and Chickens (infamous rocks! more voracious than
Scylla and her whelps!); and anon they seemed sinking into yawning gulfs,
that threatened to entomb them beneath the waves. All the elements

combined to produce a hideous confusion. The waters raged—the winds
howled—and as they were hurried along several of the astonished mariners
beheld the rocks and trees of the neighboring shores driving through the air!
At length the mighty tub of Commodore Van Kortlandt was drawn into the
vortex of that tremendous whirlpool called the Pot, where it was whirled
about in giddy mazes, until the senses of the good commander and his crew
were overpowered by the horror of the scene, and the strangeness of the
revolution.
How the gallant squadron of Pavonia was snatched from the jaws of this
modern Charybdis has never been truly made known, for so many survived
to tell the tale, and, what is still more wonderful, told it in so many different
ways, that there has ever prevailed a great variety of opinions on the
subject.
As to the commodore and his crew, when they came to their senses they
found themselves stranded on the Long Island shore. The worthy
commodore, indeed, used to relate many and wonderful stories of his
adventures in this time of peril; how that he saw specters flying in the air,
and heard the yelling of hobgoblins, and put his hand into the pot when they
were whirled round, and found the water scalding hot, and beheld several
uncouth-looking beings seated on rocks and skimming it with huge ladles;
but particularly he declared with great exultation, that he saw the losel
porpoises, which had betrayed them into this peril, some broiling on the
Gridiron, and others hissing on the Frying-pan!
These, however, were considered by many as mere phantasies of the
commodore, while he lay in a trance, especially as he was known to be
given to dreaming; and the truth of them has never been clearly ascertained.
It is certain, however, that to the accounts of Oloffe and his followers may
be traced the various traditions handed down of this marvelous strait—as
how the devil has been seen there, sitting astride of the Hog's Back and
playing on the fiddle—how he broils fish there before a storm; and many
other stories, in which we must be cautious of putting too much faith. In
consequence of all these terrific circumstances, the Pavonian commander
gave this pass the name of Helle-gat, or, as it has been interpreted, Hell-
gate;[30] which it continues to bear at the present day.

FOOTNOTES:
[27]
It is a matter long since established by certain of our
philosophers, that is to say, having been often advanced and never
contradicted, it has grown to be pretty nigh equal to a settled fact,
that the Hudson was originally a lake dammed up by the
mountains of the Highlands. In process of time, however,
becoming very mighty and obstreperous, and the mountains
waxing pursy, dropsical, and weak in the back, by reason of their
extreme old age, it suddenly rose upon them, and after a violent
struggle effected its escape. This is said to have come to pass in
very remote time, probably before that rivers had lost the art of
running up hill. The foregoing is a theory in which I do not
pretend to be skilled, not withstanding that I do fully give it my
belief.

[28]
A promontory in the Highlands.

[29]
Properly spelt Hoeck (i.e. a point of land).

[30]
This is a narrow strait in the Sound, at the distance of six miles
above New York. It is dangerous to shipping, unless under the
care of skillful pilots, by reason of numerous rocks, shelves, and
whirlpools. These have received sundry appellations, such as the
Gridiron, Frying-pan, Hog's Back, Pot, etc., and are very violent
and turbulent at certain times of tide. Certain mealy-mouthed
men, of squeamish consciences, who are loth to give the devil his
due, have softened the above characteristic name into Hell-gate,
forsooth! Let those take care how they venture into the Gate, or
they may be hurled into the Pot before they are aware of it. The
name of this strait, as given by our author, is supported by the

map of Vander Donck's history, published in 1656—by Ogilvie's
History of America, 1671—as also by a journal still extant,
written in the sixteenth century, and to be found in Hazard's State
Papers. And an old MS, written in French, speaking of various
alterations, in names about this city, observes, "De Hellegat, trou
d'Enfer, ils ont fait Hell-gate, porte d'Enfer."

CHAPTER V.

The darkness of night had closed upon this disastrous day, and a doleful
night was it to the shipwrecked Pavonians, whose ears were incessantly
assailed with the raging of the elements, and the howling of the hobgoblins
that infested this perfidious strait. But when the morning dawned the
horrors of the preceding evening had passed away, rapids, breakers and
whirlpools had disappeared, the stream again ran smooth and dimpling, and
having changed its tide, rolled gently back towards the quarter where lay
their much regretted home.
The woebegone heroes of Communipaw eyed each other with rueful
countenances; their squadrons had been totally dispersed by the late
disaster. Some were cast upon the western shore, where, headed by one
Ruleff Hopper, they took possession of all the country lying about the six-
mile-stone, which is held by the Hoppers at this present writing.
The Waldrons were driven by stress of weather to a distant coast, where,
having with them a jug of genuine Hollands, they were enabled to conciliate
the savages, setting up a kind of tavern; whence, it is said, did spring the
fair town of Haerlem, in which their descendants have ever since continued
to be reputable publicans. As to the Suydams, they were thrown upon the
Long Island coast, and may still be found in those parts. But the most
singular luck attended the great Ten Broeck, who, falling overboard, was
miraculously preserved from sinking by the multitude of his nether
garments. Thus buoyed up, he floated on the waves like a merman, or like
an angler's dobber, until he landed safely on a rock, where he was found the
next morning busily drying his many breeches in the sunshine.

I forbear to treat of the long consultation of Oloffe with his remaining
followers, in which they determined that it would never do to found a city
in so diabolical a neighborhood. Suffice it in simple brevity to say, that they
once more committed themselves, with fear and trembling, to the briny
element, and steered their course back again through the scenes of their
yesterday's voyage, determined no longer to roam in search of distant sites,
but to settle themselves down in the marshy regions of Pavonia.
Scarce, however, had they gained a distant view of Communipaw, when
they were encountered by an obstinate eddy, which opposed their
homeward voyage. Weary and dispirited as they were, they yet tugged a
feeble oar against the stream; until, as if to settle the strife, half a score of
potent billows rolled the tub of Commodore Van Kortlandt high and dry on
the long point of an island which divided the bosom of the bay.
Some pretend that these billows were sent by old Neptune to strand the
expedition on a spot whereon was to be founded his stronghold in this
western world; others, more pious, attribute everything to the guardianship
of the good St. Nicholas; and after events will be found to corroborate this
opinion. Oloffe Van Kortlandt was a devout trencherman. Every repast was
a kind of religious rite with him; and his first thought on finding him once
more on dry ground was how he should contrive to celebrate his wonderful
escape from Hell-gate and all its horrors by a solemn banquet. The stores
which had been provided for the voyage by the good housewives of
Communipaw were nearly exhausted; but in casting his eyes about the
commodore beheld that the shore abounded with oysters. A great store of
these was instantly collected; a fire was made at the foot of a tree; all hands
fell to roasting, and broiling, and stewing, and frying, and a sumptuous
repast was soon set forth. This is thought to be the origin of those civic
feasts with which, to the present day, all our public affairs are celebrated,
and in which the oyster is ever sure to play an important part.
On the present occasion the worthy Van Kortlandt was observed to be
particularly zealous in his devotions to the trencher; for having the cares of
the expedition especially committed to his care he deemed it incumbent on
him to eat profoundly for the public good. In proportion as he filled himself
to the very brim with the dainty viands before him did the heart of this
excellent burgher rise up towards his throat, until he seemed crammed and

almost choked with good eating and good nature. And at such times it is,
when a man's heart is in his throat, that he may more truly be said to speak
from it, and his speeches abound with kindness and good fellowship. Thus,
having swallowed the last possible morsel, and washed it down with a
fervent potation, Oloffe felt his heart yearning, and his whole frame in a
manner dilating with unbounded benevolence. Everything around him
seemed excellent and delightful; and laying his hands on each side of his
capacious periphery, and rolling his half-closed eyes around on the beautiful
diversity of land and water before him, he exclaimed, in a fat, half-
smothered voice, "What a charming prospect!" The words died away in his
throat—he seemed to ponder on the fair scene for a moment—his eyelids
heavily closed over their orbs—his head drooped upon his bosom—he
slowly sank upon the green turf, and a deep sleep stole gradually over him.
And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream—and, lo! the good St. Nicholas came
riding over the tops of the trees, in that self-same wagon wherein he brings
his yearly presents to children. And he descended hard by where the heroes
of Communipaw had made their late repast. And he lit his pipe by the fire,
and sat himself down and smoked; and as he smoked the smoke from his
pipe ascended into the air, and spread like a cloud overhead. And Oloffe
bethought him, and he hastened and climbed up to the top of one of the
tallest trees, and saw that the smoke spread over a great extent of country—
and as he considered it more attentively he fancied that the great volume of
smoke assumed a variety of marvelous forms, where in dim obscurity he
saw shadowed out palaces and domes and lofty spires, all of which lasted
but a moment, and then faded away, until the whole rolled off, and nothing
but the green woods were left. And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe
he twisted it in his hatband, and laying his finger beside his nose, gave the
astonished Van Kortlandt a very significant look, then mounting his wagon,
he returned over the treetops and disappeared.
And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly instructed, and he aroused
his companions, and related to them his dream, and interpreted it that it was
the will of St. Nicholas that they should settle down and build the city here;
and that the smoke of the pipe was a type how vast would be the extent of
the city, inasmuch as the volumes of its smoke would spread over a wide
extent of country. And they all with one voice assented to this interpretation
excepting Mynheer Ten Broeck, who declared the meaning to be that it

would be a city wherein a little fire would occasion a great smoke, or, in
other words, a very vaporing little city—both which interpretations have
strangely come to pass!
The great object of their perilous expedition, therefore, being thus happily
accomplished, the voyagers returned merrily to Communipaw, where they
were received with great rejoicings. And here calling a general meeting of
all the wise men and the dignitaries of Pavonia, they related the whole
history of their voyage, and of the dream of Oloffe Van Kortlandt. And the
people lifted up their voices and blessed the good St. Nicholas, and from
that time forth the sage Van Kortlandt was held in more honor than ever, for
his great talent at dreaming, and was pronounced a most useful citizen, and
a right good man—when he was asleep.

CHAPTER VI.

The original name of the island whereon the squadron of Communipaw was
thus propitiously thrown is a matter of some dispute, and has already
undergone considerable vitiation—a melancholy proof of the instability of
all sublunary things, and the vanity of all our hopes of lasting fame; for who
can expect his name will live to posterity, when even the names of mighty
islands are thus soon lost in contradiction and uncertainty!
The name most current at the present day, and which is likewise
countenanced by the great historian Vander Donck, is Manhattan, which is
said to have originated in a custom among the squaws, in the early
settlement, of wearing men's hats, as is still done among many tribes.
"Hence," as we are told by an old governor, who was somewhat of a wag,
and flourished almost a century since, and had paid a visit to the wits of
Philadelphia, "hence arose the appellation of man-hat-on, first given to the
Indians, and afterwards to the island"—a stupid joke!—but well enough for
a governor.
Among the more venerable sources of information on this subject is that
valuable history of the American possessions, written by Master Richard
Blome, in 1687, wherein it is called the Manhadaes and Manahanent; nor

must I forget the excellent little book, full of precious matter, of that
authentic historian, John Josselyn, gent., who expressly calls it Manadaes.
Another etymology still more ancient, and sanctioned by the countenance of
our ever to be lamented Dutch ancestors, is that found in certain letters, still
extant,[31] which passed between the early governors and their neighboring
powers, wherein it is called indifferently Monhattoes, Munhatos, and
Manhattoes, which are evidently unimportant variations of the same name;
for our wise forefathers set little store by those niceties, either in
orthography or orthoepy, which form the sole study and ambition of many
learned men and women of this hypercritical age. This last name is said to
be derived from the great Indian spirit Manetho, who was supposed to make
this island his favorite abode, on account of its uncommon delights. For the
Indian traditions affirm that the bay was once a translucid lake, filled with
silver and golden fish, in the midst of which lay this beautiful island,
covered with every variety of fruits and flowers, but that the sudden
irruption of the Hudson laid waste these blissful scenes, and Manetho took
his flight beyond the great waters of Ontario.
These, however, are very fabulous legends, to which very cautious credence
must be given; and though I am willing to admit the last quoted orthography
of the name as very fit for prose, yet is there another which I peculiarly
delight in, as at once poetical, melodious, and significant—and which we
have on the authority of Master Juet, who, in his account of the voyage of
the great Hudson, calls this Manna-hata—that is to say, the island of manna
—or, in other words, a land flowing with milk and honey.
Still my deference to the learned obliges me to notice the opinion of the
worthy Dominie Heckwelder, which ascribes the name to a great drunken
bout, held on the island by the Dutch discoverers, whereat they made
certain of the natives most ecstatically drunk for the first time in their lives;
who, being delighted with their jovial entertainment, gave the place the
name of Mannahattanink—that is to say, the Island of Jolly Topers—a name
which it continues to merit to the present day.[32]
FOOTNOTES:
[31]

Vide Hazard's Col. Stat. Pap.

[32]
MSS. of the Rev. John Heckwelder, in the archives of the New
York Historical Society.

CHAPTER VII.

It having been solemnly resolved that the seat of empire should be removed
from the green shores of Pavonia to the pleasant island of Manna-hata,
everybody was anxious to embark under the standard of Oloffe the
Dreamer, and to be among the first sharers of the promised land. A day was
appointed for the grand migration, and on that day little Communipaw as in
a buzz and a bustle like a hive in swarming time. Houses were turned inside
out, and stripped of the venerable furniture which had come from Holland;
all the community, great and small, black and white, man, woman, and
child, was in commotion, forming lines from the houses to the water side,
like lines of ants from an ant-hill; everybody laden with some article of
household furniture; while busy housewifes plied backwards and forwards
along the lines, helping everything forward by the nimbleness of their
tongues.
By degrees a fleet of boats and canoes were piled up with all kinds of
household articles; ponderous tables; chests of drawers, resplendent with
brass ornaments, quaint corner cupboards; beds and bedsteads; with any
quantity of pots, kettles, frying-pans, and Dutch ovens. In each boat
embarked a whole family, from the robustious burgher down to the cats and
dogs and little negroes. In this way they set off across the mouth of the
Hudson, under the guidance of Oloffe the Dreamer, who hoisted his
standard on the leading boat.
This memorable migration took place on the first of May, and was long
cited in tradition as the grand moving. The anniversary of it was piously
observed among the "sons of the pilgrims of Communipaw," by turning

their houses topsy-turvy, and carrying all the furniture through the streets, in
emblem of the swarming of the parent hive; and this is the real origin of the
universal agitation and "moving" by which this most restless of cities is
literally turned out of doors on every May-day.
As the little squadron from Communipaw drew near to the shores of
Manna-hata, a sachem, at the head of a band of warriors, appeared to
oppose their landing. Some of the most zealous of the pilgrims were for
chastising this insolence with the powder and ball, according to the
approved mode of discoverers; but the sage Oloffe gave them the
significant sign of St. Nicholas, laying his finger beside his nose and
winking hard with one eye; whereupon his followers perceived that there
was something sagacious in the wind. He now addressed the Indians in the
blandest terms, and made such tempting display of beads, hawks's bells, and
red blankets, that he was soon permitted to land, and a great land
speculation ensued. And here let me give the true story of the original
purchase of the site of this renowned city, about which so much has been
said and written. Some affirm that the first cost was, but sixty guilders. The
learned Dominie Heckwelder records a tradition[33] that the Dutch
discoverers bargained for only so much land as the hide of a bullock would
cover; but that they cut the hide in strips no thicker than a child's finger, so
as to take in a large portion of land, and to take in the Indians into the
bargain This, however, is an old fable which the worthy Dominie may have
borrowed from antiquity. The true version is, that Oloffe Van Kortlandt
bargained for just so much land as a man could cover with his nether
garments. The terms being concluded, he produced his friend Mynheer Ten
Broeck, as the man whose breeches were to be used in measurement. The
simple savages, whose ideas of a man's nether garments had never
expanded beyond the dimensions of a breech clout, stared with
astonishment and dismay as they beheld this bulbous-bottomed burgher
peeled like an onion, and breeches after breeches spread forth over the land
until they covered the actual site of this venerable city.
This is the true history of the adroit bargain by which the Island of
Manhattan was bought for sixty guilders; and in corroboration of it I will
add that Mynheer Ten Breeches, for his services on this memorable
occasion, was elevated to the office of land measurer; which he ever
afterwards exercised in the colony.

FOOTNOTES:
[33]
MSS. of the Rev. John Heckwelder: New York Historical Society.

CHAPTER VIII.

The land being thus fairly purchased of the Indians, a circumstance very
unusual in the history of colonization, and strongly illustrative of the
honesty of our Dutch progenitors, a stockade fort and trading house were
forthwith erected on an eminence in front of the place where the good St.
Nicholas had appeared in a vision to Oloffe the Dreamer; and which, as has
already been observed, was the identical place at present known as the
Bowling Green.
Around this fort a progeny of little Dutch-built houses, with tiled roofs and
weathercocks, soon sprang up, nestling themselves under its walls for
protection, as a brood of half-fledged chickens nestle under the wings of the
mother hen. The whole was surrounded by an enclosure of strong
palisadoes, to guard against any sudden irruption of the savages. Outside of
these extended the corn-fields and cabbage-gardens of the community, with
here and there an attempt at a tobacco plantation; all covering those tracts of
country at present called Broadway, Wall Street, William Street, and Pearl
Street, I must not omit to mention, that in portioning out the land a goodly
"bowerie" or farm was allotted to the sage Oloffe, in consideration of the
service he had rendered to the public by his talent at dreaming; and the site
of his "bowerie" is known by the name of Kortlandt (or Cortland) Street to
the present day.
And now the infant settlement having advanced in age and stature, it was
thought high time it should receive an honest Christian name. Hitherto it
had gone by the original Indian name of Manna-hata, or, as some will have
it, "The Manhattoes;" but this was now decried as savage and heathenish,
and as tending to keep up the memory of the pagan brood that originally
possessed it. Many were the consultations held upon the subject without

coming to a conclusion, for though everybody condemned the old name,
nobody could invent a new one. At length, when the council was almost in
despair, a burgher, remarkable for the size and squareness of his head,
proposed that they should call it New Amsterdam. The proposition took
everybody by surprise; it was so striking, so apposite, so ingenious. The
name was adopted by acclamation, and New Amsterdam the metropolis was
thenceforth called. Still, however, the early authors of the province
continued to call it by the general appelation of "The Manhattoes," and the
poets fondly clung to the euphonious name of Manna-hata; but those are a
kind of folk whose tastes and notions should go for nothing in matters of
this kind.
Having thus provided the embryo city with a name, the next was to give it
an armorial bearing or device, as some cities have a rampant lion, others a
soaring eagle; emblematical, no doubt, of the valiant and high-flying
qualities of the inhabitants: so after mature deliberation a sleek beaver was
emblazoned on the city standard as indicative of the amphibious origin and
patient persevering habits of the New Amsterdamers.
The thriving state of the settlement and the rapid increase of houses soon
made it necessary to arrange some plan upon which the city should be built;
but at the very first consultation on the subject a violent discussion arose;
and I mention it with much sorrowing as being the first altercation on
record in the councils of New Amsterdam. It was, in fact, a breaking forth
of the grudge and heart-burning that had existed between those two eminent
burghers, Mynheers Ten Broeck and Harden Broeck, ever since their
unhappy dispute on the coast of Bellevue. The great Harden Broeck had
waxed very wealthy and powerful from his domains, which embraced the
whole chain of Apulean mountains that stretched along the gulf of Kip's
Bay, and from part of which his descendants have been expelled in latter
ages by the powerful clans of the Joneses and the Schermerhornes.
An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Mynheer Harden Broeck,
who proposed that it should be cut up and intersected by canals, after the
manner of the most admired cities in Holland. To this Mynheer Ten Broeck
was diametrically opposed, suggesting in place thereof that they should run
out docks and wharves, by means of piles driven into the bottom of the
river, on which the town should be built. "By these means," said he,

triumphantly, "shall we rescue a considerable space of territory from these
immense rivers, and build a city that shall rival Amsterdam, Venice, or any
amphibious city in Europe." To this proposition Harden Broeck (or Tough
Breeches) replied, with a look of as much scorn as he could possibly
assume. He cast the utmost censure upon the plan of his antagonist, as being
preposterous, and against the very order of things, as he would leave to
every true Hollander. "For what," said he, "is a town without canals?—it is
like a body without veins and arteries, and must perish for want of a free
circulation of the vital fluid."—Ten Breeches, on the contrary, retorted with
a sarcasm upon his antagonist, who was somewhat of an arid, dry-boded
habit; he remarked, that as to the circulation of the blood being necessary to
existence, Mynheer Tough Breeches was a living contradiction to his own
assertion; for everybody knew there had not a drop of blood circulated
through his wind-dried carcase for good ten years, and yet there was not a
greater busybody in the whole colony. Personalities have seldom much
effect in making converts in argument; nor have I ever seen a man
convinced of error by being convicted of deformity. At least such was not
the case at present. If Ten Breeches was very happy in sarcasm, Tough
Breeches, who was a sturdy little man, and never gave up the last word,
rejoined with increasing spirit; Ten Breeches had the advantage of the
greatest volubility, but Tough Breeches had that invaluable coat of mail in
argument called obstinacy; Ten Breeches had, therefore, the most mettle,
but Tough Breeches the best bottom—so that though Ten Breeches made a
dreadful clattering about his ears, and battered and belabored him with hard
words and sound arguments, yet Tough Breeches hung on most resolutely to
the last. They parted, therefore, as is usual in all arguments where both
parties are in the right, without coming to any conclusion; but they hated
each other most heartily for ever after, and a similar breach with that
between the houses of Capulet and Montague did ensue between the
families of Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches.
I would not fatigue my reader with these dull matters of fact, but that my
duty as a faithful historian requires that I should be particular; and, in truth,
as I am now treating of the critical period when our city, like a young twig,
first received the twists and turns which have since contributed to give it its
present picturesque irregularity, I cannot be too minute in detailing their
first causes.

After the unhappy altercation I have just mentioned, I do not find that
anything further was said on the subject worthy of being recorded. The
council, consisting of the largest and oldest heads in the community, met
regularly once a week, to ponder on this momentous subject; but, either
they were deterred by the war of words they had witnessed, or they were
naturally averse to the exercise of the tongue, and the consequent exercise
of the brains—certain it is, the most profound silence was maintained—the
question, as usual, lay on the table—the members quietly smoked their
pipes, making but few laws, without ever enforcing any, and in the
meantime the affairs of the settlement went on—as it pleased God.
As most of the council were but little skilled in the mystery of combining
pot-hooks and hangers, they determined most judiciously not to puzzle
either themselves or posterity with voluminous records. The secretary,
however, kept the minutes of the council with tolerable precision, in a large
vellum folio, fastened with massy brass clasps; the journal of each meeting
consisted but of two lines, stating in Dutch that "the council sat this day,
and smoked twelve pipes on the affairs of the colony." By which it appears
that the first settlers did not regulate their time by hours, but pipes, in the
same manner as they measure distances in Holland at this very time; an
admirably exact measurement, as a pipe in the mouth of a true-born
Dutchman is never liable to those accidents and irregularities that are
continually putting our clocks out of order.
In this manner did the profound council of New Amsterdam smoke, and
doze, and ponder, from week to week, month to month, and year to year, in
what manner they should construct their infant settlement; meanwhile the
town took care of itself, and, like a sturdy brat which is suffered to run
about wild, unshackled by clouts and bandages, and other abominations by
which your notable nurses and sage old women cripple and disfigure the
children of men, increased so rapidly in strength and magnitude, that before
the honest burgomasters had determined upon a plan it was too late to put it
in execution—whereupon they wisely abandoned the subject altogether.

CHAPTER IX.

There is something exceedingly delusive in thus looking back, through the
long vista of departed years, and catching a glimpse of the fairy realms of
antiquity. Like a landscape melting into distance, they receive a thousand
charms from their very obscurity, and the fancy delights to fill up their
outlines with graces and excellences of its own creation. Thus loom on my
imagination those happier days of our city, when as yet New Amsterdam
was a mere pastoral town, shrouded in groves of sycamores and willows,
and surrounded by trackless forests and wide-spreading waters, that seemed
to shut out all the cares and vanities of a wicked world.
In those days did this embryo city present the rare and noble spectacle of a
community governed without laws; and thus being left to its own course,
and the fostering care of Providence, increased as rapidly as though it had
been burdened with a dozen panniers full of those sage laws usually heaped
on the backs of young cities—in order to make them grow. And in this
particular I greatly admire the wisdom and sound knowledge of human
nature displayed by the sage Oloffe the Dreamer and his fellow legislators.
For my part, I have not so bad an opinion of mankind as many of my
brother philosophers. I do not think poor human nature so sorry a piece of
workmanship as they would make it out to be; and as far as I have
observed, I am fully satisfied that man, if left to himself, would about as
readily go right as wrong. It is only this eternally sounding in his ears that it
is his duty to go right which makes him go the very reverse. The noble
independence of his nature revolts at this intolerable tyranny of law, and the
perpetual interference of officious morality, which are ever besetting his
path with finger-posts and directions to "keep to the right, as the law
directs;" and like a spirited urchin, he turns directly contrary, and gallops
through mud and mire, over hedges and ditches, merely to show that he is a
lad of spirit, and out of his leading-strings. And these opinions are amply
substantiated by what I have above said of our worthy ancestors; who never
being be-preached and be-lectured, and guided and governed by statutes
and laws and by-laws, as are their more enlightened descendants, did one
and all demean themselves honestly and peaceably, out of pure ignorance,
or, in other words—because they knew no better.
Nor must I omit to record one of the earliest measures of this infant
settlement, inasmuch as it shows the piety of our forefathers, and that, like
good Christians, they were always ready to serve God, after they had first

served themselves. Thus, having quietly settled themselves down, and
provided for their own comfort, they bethought themselves of testifying
their gratitude to the great and good St. Nicholas, for his protecting care in
guiding them to this delectable abode. To this end they built a fair and
goodly chapel within the fort, which they consecrated to his name;
whereupon he immediately took the town of New Amsterdam under his
peculiar patronage, and he has even since been, and I devoutly hope will
ever be, the tutelar saint of this excellent city.
At this early period was instituted that pious ceremony, still religiously
observed in all our ancient families of the right breed, of hanging up a
stocking in the chimney on St. Nicholas Eve; which stocking is always
found in the morning miraculously filled; for the good St. Nicholas has ever
been a great giver of gifts, particularly to children.
I am moreover told that there is a little legendary book somewhere extant,
written in Low Dutch, which says that the image of this renowned saint,
which whilom graced the bow-sprit of the Goede Vrouw, was elevated in
front of this chapel, in the center of what in modern days is called the
Bowling Green—on the very spot, in fact, where he appeared in vision to
Oloffe the Dreamer. And the legend further treats of divers miracles
wrought by the mighty pipe which the saint held in his mouth; a whiff of
which was a sovereign cure for an indigestion—an invaluable relic in this
colony of brave trenchermen. As however, in spite of the most diligent
search, I cannot lay my hands upon this little book, I must confess that I
entertain considerable doubt on the subject.
Thus benignly fostered by the good St. Nicholas, the infant city thrived
apace. Hordes of painted savages, it is true, still lurked about the unsettled
parts of the island. The hunter still pitched his bower of skins and bark
beside the rills that ran through the cool and shady glens, while here and
there might be seen, on some sunny knoll, a group of Indian wigwams
whose smoke arose above the neighboring trees, and floated in the
transparent atmosphere. A mutual good-will, however, existed between
these wandering beings and the burghers of New Amsterdam. Our
benevolent forefathers endeavored as much as possible to ameliorate their
situation, by giving them gin, rum, and glass beads, in exchange for their
peltries; for it seems the kind-hearted Dutchmen had conceived a great

friendship for their savage neighbors, on account of their being pleasant
men to trade with, and little skilled in the art of making a bargain.
Now and then a crew of these half human sons of the forest would make
their appearance in the streets of New Amsterdam, fantastically painted and
decorated with beads and flaunting feathers, sauntering about with an air of
listless indifference—sometimes in the marketplace, instructing the little
Dutch boys in the use of the bow and arrow—at other times, inflamed with
liquor, swaggering, and whooping, and yelling about the town like so many
fiends, to the great dismay of all the good wives, who would hurry their
children into the house, fasten the doors, and throw water upon the enemy
from the garret windows. It is worthy of mention here that our forefathers
were very particular in holding up these wild men as excellent domestic
examples—and for reasons that may be gathered from the history of Master
Ogilby, who tells us that "for the least offence the bridegroom soundly beats
his wife and turns her out of doors, and marries another, insomuch that
some of them have every year a new wife." Whether this awful example
had any influence or not history does not mention; but it is certain that our
grandmothers were miracles of fidelity and obedience.
True it is that the good understanding between our ancestors and their
savage neighbors was liable to occasional interruptions, and I have heard
my grandmother, who was a very wise old woman, and well versed in the
history of these parts, tell a long story of a winter's evening, about a battle
between the New-Amsterdammers and the Indians, which was known by
the name of the Peach War, and which took place near a peach orchard, in a
dark glen, which for a long while went by the name of Murderer's Valley.
The legend of this sylvan war was long current among the nurses, old
wives, and other ancient chroniclers of the place; but time and improvement
have almost obliterated both the tradition and the scene of battle; for what
was once the blood-stained valley is now in the center of this populous city,
and known by the name of Dey Street.
I know not whether it was to this "Peach War," and the acquisitions of
Indian land which may have grown out of it, that we may ascribe the first
seeds of the spirit of "annexation" which now began to manifest themselves.
Hitherto the ambition of the worthy burghers had been confined to the

lovely island of Manna-hata; and Spiten Devil on the Hudson, and Hell-gate
on the Sound, were to them the pillars of Hercules, the ne plus ultra of
human enterprise. Shortly after the Peach War however, a restless spirit was
observed among the New Amsterdammers, who began to cast wistful looks
upon the wild lands of their Indian neighbors; for somehow or other wild
Indian land always looks greener in the eyes of settlers than the land they
occupy. It is hinted that Oloffe the Dreamer encouraged these notions;
having, as has been shown, the inherent spirit of a land speculator, which
had been wonderfully quickened and expanded since he had become a
landholder. Many of the common people, who had never before owned a
foot of land, now began to be discontented with the town lots which had
fallen to their shares; others who had snug farms and tobacco plantations
found they had not sufficient elbow-room, and began to question the rights
of the Indians to the vast regions they pretended to hold—while the good
Oloffe indulged in magnificent dreams of foreign conquest and great
patroonships in the wilderness.
The result of these dreams were certain exploring expeditions sent forth in
various directions to "sow the seeds of empire," as it was said. The earliest
of these were conducted by Hans Reinier Oothout, an old navigator famous
for the sharpness of his vision, who could see land when it was quite out of
sight to ordinary mortals, and who had a spy-glass covered with a bit of
tarpaulin, with which he could spy up the crookedest river, quite to its head
waters. He was accompanied by Mynheer Ten Breeches, as land measurer,
in case of any dispute with the Indians.
What was the consequence of these exploring expeditions? In a little while
we find a frontier post or trading-house called Fort Nassau, established far
to the south on Delaware River; another called Fort Goed Hoop (or Good
Hope), on the Varsche or Fresh, or Connecticut River; and another called
Fort Aurania (now Albany) away up the Hudson River; while the
boundaries of the province kept extending on every side, nobody knew
whither, far into the regions of Terra Incognita.
Of the boundary feuds and troubles which the ambitious little province
brought upon itself by these indefinite expansions of its territory we shall
treat at large in the after pages of this eventful history; sufficient for the
present is it to say, that the swelling importance of the Nieuw Nederlandts

awakened the attention of the mother country, who, finding it likely to yield
much revenue and no trouble, began to take that interest in its welfare
which knowing people evince for rich relations.
But as this opens a new era in the fortunes of New Amsterdam I will here
put an end to this second book of my history, and will treat of the maternal
policy of the mother country in my next.

BOOK III.
IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE GOLDEN REIGN OF WOUTER VAN
TWILLER.

CHAPTER I.

Grievous and very much to be commiserated is the task of the feeling
historian who writes the history of his native land. If it fell to his lot to be
the recorder of calamity or crime, the mournful page is watered with his
tears—nor can he recall the most prosperous and blissful era without a
melancholy sigh at the reflection that it has passed away for ever! I know
not whether it be owing to an immoderate love for the simplicity of former
times, or to that certain tenderness of heart incident to all sentimental
historians, but I candidly confess that I cannot look back on the happier
days of our city, which I now describe, without great dejection of spirits.
With faltering hand do I withdraw the curtain of oblivion that veils the
modest merit of our venerable ancestors, and as their figures rise to my
mental vision, humble myself before their mighty shades.
Such are my feelings when I revisit the family mansion of the
Knickerbockers, and spend a lonely hour in the chamber where hang the
portraits of my forefathers, shrouded in dust like the forms they represent.
With pious reverence do I gaze on the countenances of those renowned
burghers who have preceded me in the steady march of existence—whose
sober and temperate blood now meanders through my veins, flowing slower
and slower in its feeble conduits, until its current shall soon be stopped for
ever!
These I say to myself are but frail memorials of the mighty men who
flourished in the days of the patriarchs: but who, alas! have long since
smouldered in that tomb towards which my steps are insensibly and
irresistibly hastening. As I pace the darkened chamber, and lose myself in

melancholy musings, the shadowy images around me almost seem to steal
once more into existence, their countenances to assume the animation of
life—their eyes to pursue me in every movement! Carried away by the
delusions of fancy, I almost imagine myself surrounded by the shades of the
departed, and holding sweet converse with the worthies of antiquity! Ah,
hapless Diedrich! born in a degenerate age, abandoned to the buffetings of
fortune—a stranger and weary pilgrim in thy native land—blest with no
weeping wife, nor family of helpless children; but doomed to wander
neglected through those crowded streets, and elbowed by foreign upstarts
from those fair abodes where once thine ancestors held sovereign empire!
Let me not, however, lose the historian in the man, nor suffer the doting
recollections of age to overcome me, while dwelling with fond garrulity on
the virtuous days of the patriarchs—on those sweet days of simplicity and
ease, which never more will dawn on the lovely island of Manna-hata.
These melancholy reflections have been forced from me by the growing
wealth and importance of New Amsterdam, which, I plainly perceive, are to
involve it in all kinds of perils and disasters. Already, as I observed at the
close of my last book, they had awakened the attention of the mother
country. The usual mark of protection shown by mother countries to
wealthy colonies was forthwith manifested; a governor being sent out to
rule over the province, and squeeze out of it as much revenue as possible.
The arrival of a governor of course put an end to the protectorate of Oloffe
the Dreamer. He appears, however, to have dreamt to some purpose during
his sway, as we find him afterwards living as a patroon on a great landed
estate on the banks of the Hudson, having virtually forfeited all right to his
ancient appellation of Kortlandt, or Lackland.
It was in the year of our Lord 1629 that Mynheer Wouter Van Twiller was
appointed governor of the province of Nieuw Nederlands, under the
commission and control of their High Mightinesses the Lords States
General of the United Netherlands and the privileged West India Company.
This renowned old gentleman arrived at New Amsterdam in the merry
month of June, the sweetest month in all the year; when Dan Apollo seems
to dance up the transparent firmament—when the robin, the thrush, and a
thousand other wanton songsters make the woods to resound with amorous

ditties, and the luxurious little boblicon revels among the clover blossoms
of the meadows—all which happy coincidence persuaded the old dames of
New Amsterdam who were skilled in the art of foretelling events, that this
was to be a happy and prosperous administration.
The renowned Wouter, or Walter, Van Twiller was descended from a long
line of Dutch burgomasters, who had successively dozed away their lives,
and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam; and who had
empowered themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety that they
were never either heard or talked of—which, next to being universally
applauded, should be the object of ambition of all magistrates and rulers.
There are two opposite ways by which some men make a figure in the
world; one by talking faster than they think, and the other by holding their
tongues and not thinking at all. By the first many a smatterer acquires the
reputation of a man of quick parts; by the other many a dunderpate, like the
owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be considered the very type of wisdom.
This, by the way, is a casual remark, which I would not for the universe
have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller. It is true he was a man shut
up within himself, like an oyster, and rarely spoke except in monosyllables;
but then it was allowed he seldom said a foolish thing. So invincible was his
gravity that he was never known to laugh, or even to smile, through the
whole course of a long and prosperous life. Nay, if a joke were uttered in
his presence, that set light-minded hearers in a roar, it was observed to
throw him into a state of perplexity. Sometimes he would deign to inquire
into the matter, and when, after much explanation, the joke was made as
plain as a pike-staff, he would continue to smoke his pipe in silence, and at
length, knocking out the ashes, would exclaim, "Well! I see nothing in all
that to laugh about."
With all his reflective habits he never made up his mind on a subject. His
adherents accounted for this by the astonishing magnitude of his ideas. He
conceived every subject on so grand a scale that he had not room in his
head to turn it over and examine both sides of it. Certain it is that if any
matter were propounded to him, on which ordinary mortals would rashly
determine at first glance, he would put on a vague mysterious look, shake
his capacious head, smoke some time in profound silence, and at length
observe that "he had his doubts about the matter;" which gained him the
reputation of a man slow of belief, and not easily imposed upon. What is

more, it gained him a lasting name, for to this habit of the mind has been
attributed his surname of Twiller, which is said to be a corruption of the
original Twijfler, or, in plain English, Doubter.
The person of this illustrious old gentleman was formed and proportioned,
as though it had been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch
statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly five
feet six inches in height and six feet five inches in circumference. His head
was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendous dimensions, that Dame
Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct a
neck capable of supporting it; wherefore, she wisely declined the attempt,
and settled it firmly on the top of his backbone; just between the shoulders.
His body was oblong and particularly capacious at bottom, which was
wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary habits,
and very averse to the idle labor of walking.
His legs were short, but sturdy in proportion to the weight they had to
sustain; so that, when erect, he had not a little the appearance of a beer
barrel on skids. His face, that infallible index of the mind, presented a vast
expanse, unfurrowed by any of those lines and angles which disfigure the
human countenance with what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes
twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magnitude in a hazy
firmament; and his full-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of
everything that went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked
with dusky red, like a Spitzenberg apple.
His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four stated meals;
appropriating exactly an hour to each; he smoked and doubted eight hours,
and he slept the remaining twelve of the four-and-twenty. Such was the
renowned Wouter Van Twiller—a true philosopher, for his mind was either
elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and perplexities of this
world. He had lived in it for years, without feeling the least curiosity to
know whether the sun revolved round it, or it round the sun; and he had
watched for at least half century the smoke curling from his pipe to the
ceiling, without once troubling his head with any of those numerous
theories by which a philosopher would have perplexed his brain in
accounting for its rising above the surrounding atmosphere.

In his council he presided with great state and solemnity. He sat in a huge
chair of solid oak, hewn in the celebrated forest of the Hague, fabricated by
an experienced timmerman of Amsterdam, and curiously carved about the
arms and feet into exact imitations of gigantic eagle's claws. Instead of a
scepter he swayed a long Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin and amber,
which had been presented to a stadtholder of Holland, at the conclusion of a
treaty, with one of the petty Barbary Powers. In this stately chair would he
sit, and this magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his right knee with a
constant motion, and fixing his eye for hours together upon a little print of
Amsterdam, which hung in a black frame against the opposite wall of the
council chamber. Nay, it has even been said, that when any deliberation of
extraordinary length and intricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Wouter
would shut his eyes for full two hours at a time, that he might not be
disturbed by external objects—and at such times the internal commotion of
his mind was evinced by certain regular guttural sounds, which his admirers
declared were merely the noise of conflict made by his contending doubts
and opinions.
It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled to collect these biographical
anecdotes of the great man under consideration. The facts respecting him
were so scattered and vague, and divers of them so questionable in point of
authenticity, that I have had to give up the search after many, and decline
the admission of still more, which would have tended to heighten the
coloring of his portrait.
I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the person and habits of
Wouter Van Twiller, from the consideration that he was not only the first,
but also the best governor, that ever presided over this ancient and
respectable province; and so tranquil and benevolent was his reign, that I do
not find throughout the whole of it a single instance of any offender being
brought to punishment—a most indubitable sign of a merciful governor,
and a case unparalleled, excepting in the reign of the illustrious King Log,
from whom, it is hinted, the renowned Van Twiller was a lineal descendant.
The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate was distinguished
by an example of legal acumen, that gave flattering presage of a wise and
equitable administration. The morning after he had been installed in office,
and at the moment that he was making his breakfast from a prodigious

earthen dish, filled with milk and Indian pudding, he was interrupted by the
appearance of Wandle Schoonhoven, a very important old burgher of New
Amsterdam, who complained bitterly of one Barent Bleecker, inasmuch as
he refused to come to a settlement of accounts, seeing that there was a
heavy balance in favor of the said Wandle. Governor Van Twiller, as I have
already observed, was a man of few words; he was likewise a mortal enemy
to multiplying writings, or being disturbed at his breakfast. Having listened
attentively to the statement of Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasional
grunt, as he shoveled a spoonful of Indian pudding into his mouth—either
as a sign that he relished the dish or comprehended the story—he called
unto his constable, and pulling out of his breeches proper a huge jack-knife,
dispatched it after the defendant as a summons, accompanied by his tobacco
box as a warrant.
This summary process was as effectual in those simple days as was the seal
ring of the great Haroun Alraschid among the true believers. The two
parties being confronted before him, each produced a book of accounts,
written in a language and character that would have puzzled any but a High
Dutch commentator, or a learned decipherer of Egyptian obelisks. The sage
Wouter took them one after the other, and having poised them in his hands,
and attentively counted over the number of leaves, fell straightway into a
very great doubt, and smoked for half an hour without saying a word; at
length, laying his finger beside his nose, and shutting his eyes for a
moment, with the air of a man who has just caught a subtle idea by the tail,
he slowly took his pipe from his mouth, puffed forth a column of tobacco
smoke, and with marvelous gravity and solemnity pronounced—that having
carefully counted over the leaves and weighed the books, it was found that
one was just as thick and as heavy as the other—therefore, it was the final
opinion of the court that the accounts were equally balanced—therefore,
Wandle should give Barent a receipt, and Barent should give Wandle a
receipt—and the constable should pay the costs.
This decision being straightway made known, diffused general joy
throughout New Amsterdam, for the people immediately perceived that
they had a very wise and equitable magistrate to rule over them. But its
happiest effect was, that not another lawsuit took place throughout the
whole of his administration—and the office of constable fell into such
decay, that there was not one of those losel scouts known in the province for

many years. I am the more particular in dwelling on this transaction, not
only because I deem it one of the most sage and righteous judgments on
record, and well worthy the attention of modern magistrates, but because it
was a miraculous event in the history of the renowned Wouter, being the
only time he was ever known to come to a decision in the whole course of
his life.

CHAPTER II.

In treating of the early governors of the province I must caution my readers
against confounding them, in point of dignity and power, with those worthy
gentlemen who are whimsically denominated governors in this enlightened
republic—a set of unhappy victims of popularity, who are in fact the most
dependent, henpecked beings in the community, doomed to bear the secret
goadings and corrections of their own party, and the sneers and revilings of
the whole world beside—set up, like geese at Christmas holidays, to be
pelted and shot at by every whipster and vagabond in the land. On the
contrary, the Dutch governors enjoyed that uncontrolled authority, vested in
all commanders of distant colonies or territories. They were in a manner
absolute despots in their little domains, lording it, if so disposed, over both
law and gospel, and accountable to none but the mother-country; which, it
is well known, is astonishingly deaf to all complaints against its governors,
provided they discharge the main duty of their station—squeezing out a
good revenue. This hint will be of importance to prevent my readers from
being seized with doubt and incredulity, whenever, in the course of this
authentic history, they encounter the uncommon circumstance of a governor
acting with independence, and in opposition to the opinions of the
multitude.
To assist the doubtful Wouter in the arduous business of legislation, a board
of magistrates was appointed, which presided immediately over the police.
This potent body consisted of a schout, or bailiff, with powers between
those of the present mayor and sheriff—five burgermeesters, who were
equivalent to aldermen, and five schepens, who officiated as scrubs, sub-
devils, or bottle-holders to the burgermeesters, in the same manner as do

assistant aldermen to their principals at the present day; it being their duty
to fill the pipes of the lordly burgermeesters, hunt the markets for delicacies
for corporation dinners, and to discharge such other little offices of kindness
as were occasionally required. It was, moreover, tacitly understood, though
not specifically enjoined, that they should consider themselves as butts for
the blunt wits of the burgermeesters, and should laugh most heartily at all
their jokes; but this last was a duty as rarely called in action in those days as
it is at present, and was shortly remitted, in consequence of the tragical
death of a fat little schepen, who actually died of suffocation in an
unsuccessful effort to force a laugh at one of burgermeester Van Zandt's
best jokes.
In return for these humble services, they were permitted to say "yes" and
"no" at the council-board, and to have that enviable privilege, the run of the
public kitchen—being graciously permitted to eat, and drink, and smoke, at
all those snug junketing and public gormandisings, for which the ancient
magistrates were equally famous with their modern successors. The post of
schepen, therefore, like that of assistant alderman, was eagerly coveted by
all your burghers of a certain description, who have a huge relish for good
feeding, and an humble ambition to be great men in a small way—who
thirst after a little brief authority, that shall render them the terror of the
almshouse and the bridewell—that shall enable them to lord it over
obsequious poverty, vagrant vice, outcast prostitution, and hunger-driven
dishonesty—that shall give to their beck a hound-like pack of catshpolls
and bumbailiffs—tenfold greater rogues than the culprits they hunt down!
My readers will excuse this sudden warmth, which I confess is unbecoming
of a grave historian; but I have a mortal antipathy to catchpolls, bumbailiffs,
and little great men.
The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with those of the present
time no less in form, magnitude, and intellect, than in prerogative and
privilege. The burgomasters, like our aldermen, were generally chosen by
weight—and not only the weight of the body, but likewise the weight of the
head. It is a maxim practically observed in all honest, plain-thinking,
regular cities, that an alderman should be fat; and the wisdom of this can be
proved to a certainty. That the body is in some measure an image of the
mind, or rather that the mind is moulded to the body, like melted lead to the
clay in which it is cast, has been insisted on by many philosophers, who

have made human nature their peculiar study; for, as a learned gentleman of
our own city observes, "there is a constant relation between the moral
character of all intelligent creatures, and their physical constitution—
between their habits and the structure of their bodies." Thus we see that a
lean, spare, diminutive body is generally accompanied by a petulant,
restless, meddling mind; either the mind wears down the body, by its
continual motion; or else the body, not affording the mind sufficient house-
room, keeps it continually in a state of fretfulness, tossing and worrying
about from the uneasiness of its situation. Whereas your round, sleek, fat,
unwieldly periphery is ever attended by a mind like itself, tranquil, torpid,
and at ease; and we may alway observe, that your well-fed, robustious
burghers are in general very tenacious of their ease and comfort; being great
enemies to noise, discord, and disturbance—and surely none are more
likely to study the public tranquillity than those who are so careful of their
own. Who ever hears of fat men heading a riot, or herding together in
turbulent mobs! No—no—it is your lean, hungry men who are continually
worrying society, and setting the whole community by the ears.
The divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently attended to by
philosophers of the present age, allows to every man three souls—one
immortal and rational, seated in the brain, that it may overlook and regulate
the body; a second, consisting of the surly and irascible passions which, like
belligerent powers, lie encamped around the heart; a third, mortal and
sensual, destitute of reason, gross and brutal in its propensities, and
enchained in the belly, that it may not disturb the divine soul by its ravenous
howlings. Now, according to this excellent theory, what can be more clear,
than that your fat alderman is most likely to have the most regular and well-
conditioned mind. His head is like a huge spherical chamber, containing a
prodigious mass of soft brains, whereon the rational soul lies softly and
snugly couched, as on a feather-bed; and the eyes which are the windows of
the bedchamber, are usually half-closed, that its slumberings may not be
disturbed by external objects. A mind thus comfortably lodged, and
protected from disturbance, is manifestly most like to perform its functions
with regularly and ease. By dint of good feeding, moreover, the mortal and
malignant soul, which is confined in the belly, and which, by its raging and
roaring, puts the irritable soul in the neighborhood of the heart in an
intolerable passion, and thus renders men crusty and quarrelsome when

hungry, is completely pacified, silenced, and put to rest; whereupon a host
of honest, good-fellow qualities and kind-hearted affections, which had lain
perdue, slily peeping out of the loopholes of the heart, finding this Cerberus
asleep, do pluck up their spirits, turn out one and all in their holiday suits,
and gambol up and down the diaphragm—disposing their possessor to
laughter, good humor, and a thousand friendly offices towards his fellow-
mortals.
As a board of magistrates, formed on this principle, think but very little,
they are the less likely to differ and wrangle about favorite opinions; and, as
they generally transact business upon a hearty dinner, they are naturally
disposed to be lenient and indulgent in the administration of their duties.
Charlemagne was conscious of this, and therefore ordered in his cartularies,
that no judge should hold a court of justice except in the morning on an
empty stomach. A pitiful rule which I can never forgive, and which I
warrant bore hard upon all the poor culprits in the kingdom. The more
enlightened and humane generation of the present day have taken an
opposite course, and have so managed that the alderman are the best fed
men in the community; feasting lustily on the fat things of the land, and
gorging so heartily on oysters and turtles, that in process of time they
acquire the activity of the one, and the form, the waddle, and the green fat
of the other. The consequence is, as I have just said, these luxurious
feastings do produce such a dulcet equanimity and repose of the soul,
rational and irrational, that their transactions are proverbial for unvarying
monotony; and the profound laws which they enact in their dozing
moments, amid the labors of digestion, are quietly suffered to remain as
dead letters, and never enforced when awake. In a word, your fair, round-
bellied burgomaster, like a full-fed mastiff, dozes quietly at the house-door,
always at home, and always at hand to watch over its safety; but as to
electing a lean, meddling candidate to the office, as has now and then been
done, I would as lief put a greyhound to watch the house, or a racehorse to
draw an ox-wagon.
The burgomasters then, as I have already mentioned, were wisely chosen by
weight, and the schepens, or assistant aldermen, were appointed to attend
upon them, and help them eat; but the latter, in the course of time, when
they had been fed and fattened into sufficient bulk of body and drowsiness
of brain, became very eligible candidates for the burgomasters' chairs,

having fairly eaten themselves into office, as a mouse eats his way into a
comfortable lodgment in a goodly, blue-nosed, skimmed milk, New
England cheese. Nothing could equal the profound deliberations that took
place between the renowned Wouter and these his worthy compeers, unless
it be the sage divans of some of our modern corporations. They would sit
for hours smoking and dozing over public affairs, without speaking a word
to interrupt that perfect stillness so necessary to deep reflection. Under the
sober sway of Wouter Van Twiller and these his worthy coadjutors, the
infant settlement waxed vigorous apace, gradually emerging from the
swamps and forests, and exhibiting that mingled appearance of town and
country customary in new cities, and which at this day may be witnessed in
the city of Washington; that immense metropolis, which makes so glorious
an appearance on paper.
It was a pleasing sight in those times to behold the honest burgher, like a
patriarch of yore, seated on the bench at the door of his whitewashed house,
under the shade of some gigantic sycamore or overhanging willow. Here
would he smoke his pipe of a sultry afternoon, enjoying the soft southern
breeze and listening with silent gratulation to the clucking of his hens, the
cackling of his geese, and the sonorous grunting of his swine; that
combination of farmyard melody, which may truly be said to have a silver
sound, inasmuch as it conveys a certain assurance of profitable marketing.
The modern spectator, who wanders through the streets of this populous
city, can scarcely form an idea of the different appearance they presented in
the primitive days of the doubter. The busy hum of multitudes, the shouts of
revelry, the rumbling equipages of fashion, the rattling of accursed carts,
and all the spirit-grieving sounds of brawling commerce, were unknown in
the settlement of New Amsterdam. The grass grew quietly in the highways
—the bleating sheep and frolicksome calves sported about the verdant
ridge, where now the Broadway loungers take their morning stroll—the
cunning fox or ravenous wolf skulked in the woods, where now are to be
seen the dens of Gomez and his righteous fraternity of money-brokers—and
flocks of vociferous geese cackled about the fields, where now the great
Tammany wigwam and the patriotic tavern of Martling echo with the
wranglings of the mob.

In these good times did a true and enviable equality of rank and property
prevail, equally removed from the arrogance of wealth, and the servility and
heart-burnings of repining poverty—and what in my mind is still more
conducive to tranquillity and harmony among friends, a happy equality of
intellect was likewise to be seen. The minds of the good burghers of New
Amsterdam seemed all to have been cast in one mould, and to be those
honest, blunt minds, which, like certain manufactures, are made by the
gross, and considered as exceedingly good for common use.
Thus it happens that your true dull minds are generally preferred for public
employ, and especially promoted to city honors; your keen intellects, like
razors, being considered too sharp for common service. I know that it is
common to rail at the unequal distribution of riches, as the great source of
jealousies, broils, and heart-breakings; whereas, for my part, I verily believe
it is the sad inequality of intellect that prevails, that embroils communities
more than anything else; and I have remarked that your knowing people,
who are so much wiser than anybody else, are eternally keeping society in a
ferment. Happily for New Amsterdam, nothing of the kind was known
within its walls—the very words of learning, education, taste, and talents
were unheard of—a bright genius was an animal unknown, and a blue-
stocking lady would have been regarded with as much wonder as a horned
frog or a fiery dragon. No man in fact seemed to know more than his
neighbor, nor any man to know more than an honest man ought to know,
who has nobody's business to mind but his own; the parson and the council
clerk were the only men that could read in the community, and the sage Van
Twiller always signed his name with a cross.
Thrice happy and ever to be envied little burgh! existing in all the security
of harmless insignificance—unnoticed and unenvied by the world, without
ambition, without vain-glory, without riches, without learning, and all their
train of carking cares; and as of yore, in the better days of man, the deities
were wont to visit him on earth and bless his rural habitations, so we are
told, in the sylvan days of New Amsterdam, the good St. Nicholas would
often make his appearance in his beloved city, of a holiday afternoon, riding
jollily among the treetops, or over the roofs of houses, now and then
drawing forth magnificent presents from his breeches pockets, and dropping
them down the chimneys of his favorites. Whereas, in these degenerate days
of iron and brass he never shows us the light of his countenance, nor ever

visits us, save one night in the year; when he rattles down the chimneys of
the descendants of the patriarchs, confining his presents merely to the
children, in token of the degeneracy of the parents.
Such are the comfortable and thriving effects of a fat government. The
province of the New Netherlands, destitute of wealth, possessed a sweet
tranquillity that wealth could never purchase. There were neither public
commotions, nor private quarrels; neither parties, nor sects, nor schisms;
neither persecutions, nor trials, nor punishments; nor were there
counsellors, attorneys, catchpolls, or hangmen. Every man attended to what
little business he was lucky enough to have, or neglected it if he pleased,
without asking the opinion of his neighbor. In those days nobody meddled
with concerns above his comprehension, nor thrust his nose into other
people's affairs, nor neglected to correct his own conduct and reform his
own character, in his zeal to pull to pieces the characters of others; but in a
word, every respectable citizen ate when he was not hungry, drank when he
was not thirsty, and went regularly to bed when the sun set and the fowls
went to roost, whether he were sleepy or not; all which tended so
remarkably to the population of the settlement, that I am told every dutiful
wife throughout New Amsterdam made a point of enriching her husband
with at least one child a year, and very often a brace—this superabundance
of good things clearly constituting the true luxury of life, according to the
favorite Dutch maxim, that "more than enough constitutes a feast."
Everything, therefore, went on exactly as it should do, and in the usual
words employed by historians to express the welfare of a country, "the
profoundest tranquillity and repose reigned throughout the province."

CHAPTER III.

Manifold are the tastes and dispositions of the enlightened literati who turn
over the pages of history. Some there be whose hearts are brimful of the
yeast of courage, and whose bosoms do work, and swell, and foam with
untried valor, like a barrel of new cider, or a train-band captain fresh from
under the hands of his tailor. This doughty class of readers can be satisfied
with nothing but bloody battles, and horrible encounters; they must be

continually storming forts, sacking cities, springing mines, marching up to
the muzzles of cannon, charging bayonet through every page, and revelling
in gunpowder and carnage. Others, who are of a less martial, but equally
ardent imagination, and who, withal, are little given to the marvelous, will
dwell with wondrous satisfaction on descriptions of prodigies, unheard of
events, hair-breadth escapes, hardy adventures, and all those astonishing
narrations which just amble along the boundary line of possibility. A third
class, who, not to speak slightly of them, are of a lighter turn, and skim over
the records of past times, as they do over the edifying pages of a novel,
merely for relaxation and innocent amusement, do singularly delight in
treasons, executions, Sabine rapes, Tarquin outrages, conflagrations,
murders, and all the other catalogues of hideous crimes, which, like
cayenne in cookery, do give a pungency and flavor to the dull detail of
history; while a fourth class, of more philosophic habits, do diligently pore
over the musty chronicles of time, to investigate the operations of the
human kind, and watch the gradual changes in men and manners, effected
by the progress of knowledge, the vicissitudes of events, or the influence of
situation.
If the three first classes find but little wherewithal to solace themselves in
the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, I entreat them to exert their
patience for a while, and bear with the tedious picture of happiness,
prosperity, and peace, which my duty as a faithful historian obliges me to
draw; and I promise them that as soon as I can possibly alight upon
anything horrible, uncommon, or impossible, it shall go hard but I will
make it afford them entertainment. This being premised, I turn with great
complacency to the fourth class of my readers, who are men, or, if possible,
women after my own heart; grave, philosophical, and investigating; fond of
analyzing characters, of taking a start from first causes, and so haunting a
nation down, through all the mazes of innovation and improvement. Such
will naturally be anxious to witness the first development of the newly-
hatched colony, and the primitive manners and customs prevalent among its
inhabitants, during the halcyon reign of Van Twiller, or the Doubter.
I will not grieve their patience, however, by describing minutely the
increase and improvement of New Amsterdam. Their own imaginations will
doubtless present to them the good burghers, like so many painstaking and
persevering beavers, slowly and surely pursuing their labors—they will

behold the prosperous transformation from the rude log hut to the stately
Dutch mansion, with brick front, glazed windows, and tiled roof; from the
tangled thicket to the luxuriant cabbage garden; and from the skulking
Indian to the ponderous burgomaster. In a word, they will picture to
themselves the steady, silent, and undeviating march of prosperity, incident
to a city destitute of pride or ambition, cherished by a fat government, and
whose citizens do nothing in a hurry.
The sage council, as has been mentioned in a preceding chapter, not being
able to determine upon any plan for the building of their city, the cows, in a
laudable fit of patriotism, took it under their peculiar charge, and as they
went to and from pasture, established paths through the bushes, on each
side of which the good folks built their houses; which is one cause of the
rambling and picturesque turns and labyrinths, which distinguish certain
streets of New York at this very day.
The houses of the higher class were generally constructed of wood,
excepting the gable end, which was of small black and yellow Dutch bricks,
and always faced on the street, as our ancestors, like their descendants, were
very much given to outward show, and were noted for putting the best leg
foremost. The house was always furnished with abundance of large doors
and small windows on every floor, the date of its erection was curiously
designated by iron figures on the front, and on the top of the roof was
perched a fierce little weathercock, to let the family into the important
secret which way the wind blew. These, like the weathercocks on the tops
of our steeples, pointed so many different ways, that every man could have
a wind to his mind;—the most staunch and loyal citizens, however, always
went according to the weathercock on the top of the governor's house,
which was certainly the most correct, as he had a trusty servant employed
every morning to climb up and set it to the right quarter.
In those good days of simplicity and sunshine, a passion for cleanliness was
the leading principle in domestic economy, and the universal test of an able
housewife—a character which formed the utmost ambition of our
unenlightened grandmothers. The front door was never opened except on
marriages, funerals, new year's days, the festival of St. Nicholas, or some
such great occasion. It was ornamented with a gorgeous brass knocker,
curiously wrought, sometimes in the device of a dog, and sometimes of a

lion's head, and was daily burnished with such religious zeal, that it was oft-
times worn out by the very precautions taken for its preservation. The
whole house was constantly in a state of inundation, under the discipline of
mops and brooms and scrubbing brushes; and the good housewives of those
days were a kind of amphibious animal, delighting exceedingly to be
dabbling in water—insomuch that an historian of the day gravely tells us,
that many of his townswomen grew to have webbed fingers like unto a
duck; and some of them, he had little doubt, could the matter be examined
into, would be found to have the tails of mermaids; but this I look upon to
be a mere sport of fancy, or, what is worse, a wilful misrepresentation.
The grand parlor was the sanctum sanctorum, where the passion for
cleaning was indulged without control. In this sacred apartment no one was
permitted to enter excepting the mistress and her confidential maid, who
visited it once a week, for the purpose of giving it a thorough cleaning, and
putting things to rights; always taking the precaution of leaving their shoes
at the door, and entering devoutly on their stocking feet. After scrubbing the
floor, sprinkling it with fine white sand, which was curiously stroked into
angles, and curves, and rhomboids with a broom; after washing the
windows, rubbing and polishing the furniture, and putting a bunch of
evergreens in the fireplace—the window shutters were again closed to keep
out the flies, and the room carefully locked up until the revolution of time
brought round the weekly cleaning day.
As to the family, they always entered in at the gate, and most generally
lived in the kitchen. To have seen a numerous household assembled round
the fire, one would have imagined that he was transported back to those
happy days of primeval simplicity, which float before our imaginations like
golden visions. The fireplaces were of a truly patriarchal magnitude, where
the whole family, old and young, master and servant, black and white, nay,
even the very cat and dog, enjoyed a community of privilege, and had each
a right to a corner. Here the old burgher would sit in perfect silence, puffing
his pipe, looking into the fire with half-shut eyes, and thinking of nothing
for hours together; the goede vrouw, on the opposite side, would employ
herself diligently in spinning yarn or knitting stockings. The young folks
would crowd around the hearth, listening with breathless attention to some
old crone of a negro, who was the oracle of the family, and who, perched
like a raven in the corner of a chimney, would croak forth for a long winter

afternoon a string of incredible stories about New England witches, grisly
ghosts, horses without heads, and hair-breadth escapes and bloody
encounters among the Indians.
In those happy days a well-regulated family always rose with the dawn,
dined at eleven, and went to bed at sunset. Dinner was invariably a private
meal, and the fat old burghers showed incontestable signs of disapprobation
and uneasiness at being surprised by a visit from a neighbor on such
occasions. But though our worthy ancestors were thus singularly averse to
giving dinners, yet they kept up the social bands of intimacy by occasional
banquettings, called tea-parties.
These fashionable parties were generally confined to the higher classes, or
noblesse: that is to say, such as kept their own cows and drove their own
waggons. The company commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went
away about six, unless it was in winter time, when the fashionable hours
were a little earlier, that the ladies might get home before dark. The tea-
table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat
pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming in gravy. The
company being seated round the genial board, and each furnished with a
fork, evinced their dexterity in launching at the fattest pieces in this mighty
dish—in much the same manner as sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, or our
Indians spear salmon in the lakes. Sometimes the table was graced with
immense apple-pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears; but it
was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough,
fried in hog's fat, and called doughnuts, or olykoeks—a delicious kind of
cake, at present scarce known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families.
The tea was served out of a majestic delf teapot, ornamented with paintings
of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses, tending pigs, with boats
sailing in the air, and houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious
Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by their adroitness in
replenishing this pot from a huge copper tea-kettle, which would have made
the pigmy macaronies of these degenerate days sweat merely to look at it.
To sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each cup, and the
company alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum; until an
improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic old lady, which
was to suspend a large lump directly over the tea-table by a string from the

ceiling, so that it could be swung from mouth to mouth—an ingenious
expedient, which is still kept up by some families in Albany, but which
prevails without exception in Communipaw, Bergen Flatbush, and all our
uncontaminated Dutch villages.
At these primitive tea parties the utmost propriety and dignity of
deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting—no gambling of old
ladies, nor hoyden chattering and romping of young ones—no self-satisfied
struttings of wealthy gentlemen with their brains in their pockets—nor
amusing conceits and monkey divertissements of smart young gentlemen
with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies seated themselves
demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woollen
stockings; nor ever opened their lips excepting to say "yah Mynheer," or
"yah ya Vrouw," to any question that was asked them; behaving, in all
things, like decent, well-educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of
them tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the
blue and white tiles with which the fireplaces were decorated; wherein
sundry passages of Scripture were piously portrayed—Tobit and his dog
figured to great advantage, Haman swung conspicuously on his gibbet, and
Jonah appeared most manfully bouncing out of the whale like Harlequin
through a barrel of fire.
The parties broke up without noise and without confusion. They were
carried home by their own carriages, that is to say, by the vehicles nature
had provided them, excepting such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a
wagon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair ones to their respective
abodes, and took leave of them with a hearty smack at the door; which, as it
was an established piece of etiquette, done in perfect simplicity and honesty
of heart, occasioned no scandal at that time, nor should it at the present. If
our great-grandfathers approved of the custom, it would argue a great want
of reverence in their descendants to say a word against it.

CHAPTER IV.

In this dulcet period of my history, when the beauteous island of Manna-
hata presented a scene the very counterpart of those glowing pictures drawn
of the golden reign of Saturn, there was, as I have before observed, a happy
ignorance, an honest simplicity prevalent among its inhabitants, which,
were I even able to depict, would be but little understood by the degenerate
age for which I am doomed to write. Even the female sex, those arch
innovators upon the tranquillity, the honesty, and grey-beard customs of
society, seemed for a while to conduct themselves with incredible sobriety
and comeliness.
Their hair, untortured by the abominations of art, was scrupulously
pomatomed back from their foreheads with a candle, and covered with a
little cap of quilted calico, which fitted exactly to their heads. Their
petticoats of linsey-woolsey were striped with a variety of gorgeous dyes—
though I must confess these gallant garments were rather short, scarce
reaching below the knee; but then they made up in the number, which
generally equalled that of the gentleman's small clothes; and what is still
more praiseworthy, they were all of their own manufacture—of which
circumstance, as may well be supposed, they were not a little vain.
These were the honest days, in which every woman stayed at home, read
the Bible, and wore pockets—ay, and that too of a goodly size, fashioned
with patchwork into many curious devices, and ostentatiously worn on the
outside. These, in fact, were convenient receptacles, where all good
housewives carefully stored away such things as they wished to have at
hand, by which means they often came to be incredibly crammed; and I
remember there was a story current, when I was a boy, that the lady of
Wouter Van Twiller once had occasion to empty her right pocket in search
of a wooden ladle, when the contents filled a couple of corn baskets, and
the utensil was discovered lying among some rubbish in one corner; but we
must not give too much faith to all these stories, the anecdotes of those
remote periods being very subject to exaggeration.

Besides these notable pockets, they likewise wore scissors and pincushions
suspended from their girdles by red ribands, or among the more opulent and
showy classes by brass, and even silver, chains, indubitable tokens of thrifty
housewives and industrious spinsters. I cannot say much in vindication of
the shortness of the petticoats; it doubtless was introduced for the purpose
of giving the stockings a chance to be seen, which were generally of blue
worsted, with magnificent red clocks; or perhaps to display a well-turned
ankle, and a neat though serviceable foot, set off by a high-heeled leathern
shoe, with a large and splendid silver buckle. Thus we find that the gentle
sex in all ages have shown the same disposition to infringe a little upon the
laws of decorum, in order to betray a lurking beauty, or gratify an innocent
love of finery.
From the sketch here given, it will be seen that our good grandmothers
differed considerably in their ideas of a fine figure from their scantily-
dressed descendants of the present day. A fine lady, in those times, waddled
under more clothes, even on a fair summer's day, than would have clad the
whole bevy of a modern ball-room. Nor were they the less admired by the
gentlemen in consequence thereof. On the contrary, the greatness of a
lover's passion seemed to increase in proportion to the magnitude of its
object; and a voluminous damsel, arrayed in a dozen petticoats, was
declared by a low Dutch sonneteer of the province to be radiant as a
sunflower, and luxuriant as a full-blown cabbage. Certain it is that in those
day the heart of a lover could not contain more than one lady at a time,
whereas the heart of a modern gallant has often room enough to
accommodate half a dozen; the reason of which I conclude to be, that either
the hearts of the gentlemen have grown larger, or the persons of the ladies
smaller; this, however, is a question for physiologists to determine.
But there was a secret charm in these petticoats, which, no doubt, entered
into the consideration of the prudent gallants. The wardrobe of a lady was in
those days her only fortune; and she who had a good stock of petticoats and
stockings was as absolutely an heiress as is a Kamschatka damsel with a
store of bear-skins, or a Lapland belle with a plenty of reindeer. The ladies,
therefore, were very anxious to display these powerful attractions to the
greatest advantage; and the best rooms in the house, instead of being
adorned with caricatures of Dame Nature, in water-colors and needlework,
were always hung round with abundance of homespun garments, the

manufacture and the property of the females; a piece of laudable ostentation
that still prevails among the heiresses of our Dutch villages.
The gentlemen, in fact, who figured in the circles of the gay world in these
ancient times, corresponded in most particulars with the beauteous damsels
whose smiles they were ambitious to deserve. True it is, their merits would
make but a very inconsiderable impression upon the heart of a modern fair;
they neither drove their curricles nor sported their tandems, for as yet those
gaudy vehicles were not even dreamt of; neither did they distinguish
themselves by their brilliancy at the table, and their consequent rencontres
with watchmen, for our forefathers were of too pacific a disposition to need
those guardians of the night, every soul throughout the town being sound
asleep before nine o'clock. Neither did they establish their claims to
gentility at the expense of their tailors for as yet those offenders against the
pockets of society, and the tranquillity of all aspiring young gentlemen were
unknown in New Amsterdam; every good housewife made the clothes of
her husband and family, and even the goede vrouw of Van Twiller himself
thought it no disparagement to cut out her husband's linsey-woolsey
galligaskins.
Not but what there were some two or three youngsters who manifested the
first dawning of what is called fire and spirit, who held all labor in
contempt, skulked about docks and market-places, loitered in the sunshine,
squandered what little money they could procure at hustle cap and chuck
farthing; swore, boxed, fought cocks, and raced their neighbor's horses; in
short, who promised to be the wonder, the talk, and abomination of the
town, had not their stylish career been unfortunately cut short by an affair of
honor with a whipping post.
Far other, however, was the truly fashionable gentleman of those days; his
dress, which served for both morning and evening, street and drawing-
room, was a linsey-woolsey coat, made, perhaps, by the fair hands of the
mistress of his affections, and gallantly bedecked with abundance of large
brass buttons—half a score of breeches heightened the proportions of his
figure—his shoes were decorated by enormous copper buckles—a low
crowned, broad-brimmed hat overshadowed his burly visage, and his hair
dangled down his back in a prodigious queue of sulskin.

Thus equipped, he would manfully sally forth with pipe in mouth to besiege
some fair damsel's obdurate heart—not such a pipe, good reader, as that
which Acis did sweetly tune in praise of his Galatea, but one of true delf
manufacture, and furnished with a charge of fragrant tobacco. With this
would he resolutely set himself down before the fortress, and rarely failed,
in the process of time, to smoke the fair enemy into a surrender upon
honorable terms.
Such was the happy reign of Wouter Van Twiller, celebrated in many a long
forgotten song as the real golden age, the rest being nothing but counterfeit
copper-washed coin. In that delightful period a sweet and holy calm reigned
over the whole province. The burgomaster smoked his pipe in peace; the
substantial solace of his domestic cares, after her daily toils were done, sat
soberly at the door, with her arms crossed over her apron of snowy white
without being insulted by ribald street walkers or vagabond boys—those
unlucky urchins who do so infest our streets, displaying under the roses of
youth the thorns and briars of iniquity. Then it was that the lover with ten
breeches, and the damsel with petticoats of half a score, indulged in all the
innocent endearments of virtuous love without fear and without reproach;
for what had that virtue to fear which was defended by a shield of good
linsey-woolsey, equal at least to the seven bull-hides of the invincible Ajax?
Ah! blissful and never to be forgotten age! when everything was better than
it has ever been since, or ever will be again—when Buttermilk Channel was
quite dry at low water—when the shad in the Hudson were all salmon, and
when the moon shone with a pure and resplendent whiteness, instead of that
melancholy yellow light which is the consequence of her sickening at the
abominations she every night witnesses in this degenerate city!
Happy would it have been for New Amsterdam could it always have existed
in this state of blissful ignorance and lowly simplicity; but, alas! the days of
childhood are too sweet to last. Cities, like men, grow out of them in time,
and are doomed alike to grow into the bustle, the cares, and miseries of the
world. Let no man congratulate himself when he beholds the child of his
bosom, or the city of his birth, increasing in magnitude and importance, let
the history of his own life teach him the dangers of the one, and this
excellent little history of Manna-hata convince him of the calamities of the
other.

CHAPTER V.

It has already been mentioned that, in the early times of Oloffe the Dreamer,
a frontier post, or trading house, called Fort Aurania, had been established
on the upper waters of the Hudson, precisely on the site of the present
venerable city of Albany, which was at time considered at the very end of
the habitable world. It was, indeed, a remote possession, with which, for a
long time, New Amsterdam held but little intercourse. Now and then the
"Company's Yacht," as it was called, was sent to the Fort with supplies, and
to bring away the peltries which had been purchased of the Indians. It was
like an expedition to the Indias, or the North Pole, and always made great
talk in the settlement. Sometimes an adventurous burgher would accompany
the expedition, to the great uneasiness of his friends; but, on his return, had
so many stories to tell of storms and tempests on the Tappan Zee, of
hobgoblins in the Highlands and at the Devil's Dane Kammer, and of all the
other wonders and perils with which the river abounded in those early days,
that he deterred the less adventurous inhabitants from following his xample.
Matters were in this state, when, one day, as Walter the Doubter and his
burgermeesters were smoking and pondering over the affairs of the
province, they were roused by the report of a cannon. Sallying forth, they
beheld a strange vessel at anchor in the bay; it was unquestionably of Dutch
build, broad-brimmed and high-pooped, and bore the flag of their High
Mightinesses at the masthead.
After a while a boat put off for land, and a stranger stepped on shore, a
lofty, lordly kind of man, tall and dry, with a meager face, furnished with
hug mustachios. He was clad in Flemish doublet and hose, and an
insufferably tall hat, with a cocktail feather. Such was the patroon Killian
Van Rensellaer, who had come out from Holland to found a colony or
patroonship on a great tract of wild land, granted to him by their Hight
Mightinesses the Lords States General, in the upper regions of the Hudson.
Killian Van Rensellaer was a nine day's wonder in New Amsterdam, for he
carried a high head, looked down upon the portly, short-legged

burgomasters, and owned no allegiance to the governor himself; boasting
that he held his patroonship directly from the Lords States General.
He tarried but a short time in New Amsterdam merely to beat up recruits for
his colony. Few, however, ventured to enlist for those remote and savage
regions; and when they embarked, their friends took leave of them as if they
should never see them more; and stood gazing with tearful eyes as the stout,
round-sterned little vessel ploughed and splashed its way up the Hudson,
with great noise and little progress, taking nearly a day to get out of sight of
the city.
And now, from time to time, floated down tidings to the Manhattoes of the
growing importance of this new colony. Every account represented Killian
Van Rensellaer as rising in importance and becoming a mighty patroon in
the land. He had received more recruits from Holland. His patroonship of
Rensellaerwick lay immediately below Fort Aurania, and extended for
several miles on each side of the Hudson, beside embracing the
mountainous region of the Helderberg. Over all this he claimed to hold
separate jurisdiction independent of the colonial authorities at New
Amsterdam.
All these assumptions of authority were duly reported to Governor Van
Twiller and his council, by dispatches from Fort Aurania, at each new report
the governor and his counsellors looked at each other, raised their
eyebrows, gave an extra puff or two of smoke, and then relapsed into their
usually tranquillity.
At length tidings came that the patroon of Rensellaerwick had extended his
usurpations along the river, beyond the limits granted him by their High
Mightinesses, and that he had even seized upon a rocky island in the
Hudson, commonly known by the name of Beern or Bear's Island, where he
was erecting a fortress, to be called by the lordly name of Rensellaersteen.
Wouter Van Twiller was roused by this intelligence. After consulting with
his burgomasters, he dispatched a letter to the patroon of Rensellaerwick,
demanding by what right he had seized upon this island, which lay beyond
the bounds of his patroonship. The answer of Killian Van Rensellaer was in
his own lordly style, "By wapen recht!" that is to say, by the right of arms,
or in common parlance, by club-law. This answer plunged the worthy

Wouter in one of the deepest doubts he had in the whole course of his
administration. In the meantime, while Wouter doubted, the lordly Killian
went on to finish his fortress of Rensellaersteen, about which I foresee I
shall have something to record in a future chapter of this most eventful
history.

CHAPTER VI.

In the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and four, on a fine
afternoon in the glowing month of September, I took my customary walk
upon the battery, which is at once the pride and bulwark of this ancient and
impregnable city of New York. The ground on which is I trod was hallowed
by recollections of the past, and as I slowly wandered through the long alley
of poplars, which, like so many birch-brooms standing on end, diffused a
melancholy and lugubrious shade, my imagination drew a contrast between
the surrounding scenery, and what it was in the classic days of our
forefathers. Where the government house by name, but the customhouse by
occupation, proudly reared its brick walls and wooden pillars, there whilom
stood the low, but substantial red-tiled mansion of the renowned Wouter
Van Twiller. Around it the mighty bulwarks of Fort Amsterdam frowned
defiance to every absent foe; but, like many a whiskered warrior and gallant
militia captain, confined their martial deeds to frowns alone. The mud
breastworks had long been leveled with the earth, and their site converted
into the green lawns and leafy alleys of the battery, where the gay
apprentice sported his Sunday coat, and the laborious mechanic, relieved
from the dirt and drudgery of the week, poured his weekly tale of love into
the half averted ear of the sentimental chambermaid. The capacious bay still
presented the same expansive sheet of water, studded with islands,
sprinkled with fishing boats, and bounded by shores of picturesque beauty.
But the dark forests which once clothed those shores had been violated by
the savage hand of cultivation, and their tangled mazes and impenetrable
thickets had degenerated into teeming orchards, and waving fields of grain.
Even Governor's Island, once a smiling garden appertaining to the
sovereigns of the province, was now covered with fortifications, inclosing a

tremendous block house; so that this once peaceful island resembled a
fierce little warrior in a big cocked hat, breathing gunpowder and defiance
to the world!
For some time did I indulge in a pensive train of thought, contrasting in
sober sadness the present day with the hallowed years behind the
mountains, lamenting the melancholy progress of improvement, and
praising the zeal with which our worthy burghers endeavor to preserve the
wrecks of venerable customs, prejudices, and errors, from the
overwhelming tide of modern innovation; when, by degrees, my ideas took
a different turn, and I insensibly awakened to an enjoyment of the beauties
around me.
It was one of those rich autumnal days, which heaven particularly bestows
upon the beauteous island of Mannahata and its vicinity; not a floating
cloud obscured the azure firmament; the sun rolling in glorious splendor
through his ethereal course, seemed to expand his honest Dutch
countenance into an unusual expression of benevolence, as he smiled his
evening salutation upon a city which he delights to visit with his most
bounteous beams; the very winds seemed to hold in their breaths in mute
attention, lest they should ruffle the tranquillity of the hour; and the
waveless bosom of the bay presented a polished mirror, in which Nature
beheld herself and smiled. The standard of our city, reserved like a choice
handkerchief for days of gala, hung motionless on the flag-staff which
forms the handle of a gigantic churn; and even the tremulous leaves of the
poplar and the aspen ceased to vibrate to the breath of heaven. Everything
seemed to acquiesce in the profound repose of Nature. The formidable
eighteen-pounders slept in the embrasures of the wooden batteries,
seemingly gathering fresh strength to fight the battles of their country on
the next fourth of July; the solitary drum on Governor's Island forgot to call
the garrison to the shovels; the evening gun had not yet sounded its signal
for all the regular well-meaning poultry throughout the country to go to
roost; and the fleet of canoes at anchor between Gibbet Island and
Communipaw slumbered on their rakes, and suffered the innocent oysters to
lie for a while unmolested in the soft mud of their native banks. My own
feelings sympathized with the contagious tranquillity, and I should
infallibly have dozed upon one of those fragments of benches which our
benevolent magistrates have provided for the benefit of convalescent

loungers had not the extraordinary inconvenience of the couch set all repose
at defiance.
In the midst of this slumber of the soul my attention was attracted to a black
speck, peering above the western horizon, just in the rear of Bergen steeple;
gradually it augments and overhangs the would-be cities of Jersey,
Harsimus, and Hoboken, which, like three jockeys, are starting on the
course of existence, and jostling each other at the commencement of the
race. Now it skirts the long shore of ancient Pavonia, spreading its wide
shadows from the high settlements of Weehawk quite to the lazaretto and
quarantine, erected by the sagacity of our police for the embarrassment of
commerce; now it climbs the serene vault of heaven, cloud rolling over
cloud, shrouding the orb of day, darkening the vast expanse, and bearing
thunder, and hail, and tempest, in its bosom. The earth seems agitated at the
confusion of the heavens—the late waveless mirror is lashed into furious
waves, that roll in hollow murmurs to the shore—the oyster boats that erst
sported in the placid vicinity of Gibbet Island, now hurry affrighted to the
land—the poplar writhes and twists, and whistles in the blast—torrents of
drenching rain and sounding hail deluge the battery walks—the gates are
thronged by apprentices, servant-maids, and little Frenchmen, with pocket-
handkerchiefs over their hats, scampering from the storm—the late
beauteous prospect presents one scene of anarchy and wild uproar, as
though old Chaos had resumed his reign, and was hurling back into one vast
turmoil the conflicting elements of Nature.
Whether I fled from the fury of the storm, or remained bodly at my post, as
our gallant train-band captains, who march their soldiers through the rain
without flinching, are points which I leave to the conjecture of the reader. It
is possible he may be a little perplexed also to know the reason why I
introduced this tremendous tempest to disturb the serenity of my work. On
this latter point I will gratuitously instruct his ignorance. The panorama
view of the battery was given to gratify the reader with a correct description
of that celebrated place, and the parts adjacent; secondly, the storm was
played off partly to give a little bustle and life to this tranquil part of my
work, and to keep my drowsy readers from falling asleep, and partly to
serve as an overture to the tempestuous times which are about to assail the
pacific province of Nieuw Nederlandts, and which overhang the slumbrous
administration of the renowned Wouter Van Twiller. It is thus the

experienced playwright puts all the fiddles, the French-horns, the kettle
drums, and trumpets of his orchestra, in requisition, to usher in one of those
horrible and brimstone uproars called melodrames; and it is thus he
discharges his thunder, his lightning, his rosin, and saltpetre, preparatory to
the rising of a ghost, or the murdering of a hero. We will now proceed with
our history.
Whatever may be advanced by philosophers to the contrary, I am of opinion
that, as to nations, the old maxim, that "honesty is the best policy," is a
sheer and ruinous mistake. It might have answered well enough in the
honest times when it was made; but, in these degenerate days, if a nation
pretends to rely merely upon the justice of its dealings, it will fare
something like the honest man who fell among thieves, and found his
honesty a poor protection against bad company. Such, at least, was the case
with the guileless government of the New Netherlands; which, like a
worthy, unsuspicious old burgher, quietly settled itself down in the city of
New Amsterdam as into a snug elbow-chair, and fell into a comfortable nap,
while, in the meantime, its cunning neighbors stepped in and picked his
pockets. In a word, we may ascribe the commencement of all the woes of
this great province and its magnificent metropolis to the tranquil security,
or, to speak more accurately, to the unfortunate honesty of its government.
But as I dislike to begin an important part of my history towards the end of
a chapter; and as my readers, like myself, must doubtless be exceedingly
fatigued with the long walk we have taken, and the tempest we have
sustained, I hold it meet we shut up the book, smoke a pipe, and having thus
refreshed our spirits, take a fair start in a new chapter.

CHAPTER VII.

That my readers may the more fully comprehend the extent of the calamity
at this very moment impending over the honest, unsuspecting province of
Nieuw Nederlandts and its dubious governor, it is necessary that I should
give some account of a horde of strange barbarians bordering upon the
eastern frontier.

Now so it came to pass that, many years previous to the time of which we
are treating, the sage Cabinet of England had adopted a certain national
creed, a kind of public walk of faith, or rather a religious turnpike, in which
every loyal subject was directed to travel to Zion, taking care to pay the
toll-gatherers by the way.
Albeit a certain shrewd race of men, being very much given to indulge their
own opinions on all manner of subjects (a propensity exceedingly offensive
to your free governments of Europe), did most presumptuously dare to
think for themselves in matters of religion, exercising what they considered
a natural and unextinguishable right-the liberty of conscience.
As, however, they possessed that ingenuous habit of mind which always
thinks aloud—which rides cock-a-hoop on the tongue, and is for ever
galloping into other people's ears—it naturally followed that their liberty of
conscience likewise implied liberty of speech, which being freely indulged,
soon put the country in a hubbub, and aroused the pious indignation of the
vigilant fathers of the Church.
The usual methods were adopted, to reclaim them, which in those days
were considered efficacious in bringing back stray sheep to the fold; that is
to say, they were coaxed, they were admonished, they were menaced, they
were buffeted—line upon line, precept upon precept, lash upon lash, here a
little and there a great deal, were exhausted without mercy and without
success; until worthy pastors of the Church, wearied out by their
unparalleled stubbornness, were driven in the excess of their tender mercy
to adopt the Scripture text, and literally to "heap live embers on their
heads."
Nothing, however, could subdue that independence of the tongue which has
ever distinguished this singular race, so that, rather than subject that heroic
member to further tyranny, they one and all embarked for the wilderness of
America, to enjoy, unmolested, the inestimable right of talking. And, in fact,
no sooner did they land upon the shore of this free-spoken country, than
they all lifted up their voices, and made such a clamor of tongues, that we
are told they frightened every bird and beast out of the neighborhood, and
struck such mute terror into certain fish, that they have been called dumb-
fish ever since.

This may appear marvelous, but it is nevertheless true; in proof of which I
would observe, that the dumb-fish has ever since become an object of
superstitious reverence, and forms the Saturday's dinner of every true
Yankee.
The simple aborigines of the land for a while contemplated these strange
folk in utter astonishment, but discovering that they wielded harmless,
though noisy weapons, and were a lively, ingenious, good-humored race of
men, they became very friendly and sociable, and gave them the name of
Yanokies, which in the Mais-Tchusaeg (or Massachusett) language signifies
silent men—a waggish appellation, since shortened into the familiar epithet
of Yankees, which they retain unto the present day.
True it is, and my fidelity as an historian will not allow me to pass over the
fact, that having served a regular apprenticeship in the school of
persecution, these ingenious people soon showed that they had become
masters of the art. The great majority were of one particular mode of
thinking in matters of religion; but, to their great surprise and indignation,
they found that divers Papists, Quakers, and Anabaptists were springing up
among them, and all claiming to use the liberty of speech. This was at once
pronounced a daring abuse of the liberty of conscience, which they now
insisted was nothing more than the liberty to think as one pleased in matters
of religion, provided one thought right; for otherwise it would be giving a
latitude to damnable heresies. Now as they, the majority, were convinced
that they alone thought right, it consequently followed that whoever thought
different from them thought wrong: and whoever thought wrong, and
obstinately persisted in not being convinced and converted, was a flagrant
violator of the inestimable liberty of conscience, and a corrupt and
infestious member of the body politic, and deserved to be lopped off and
cast into the fire. The consequence of all which was a fiery persecution of
divers sects, and especially of Quakers.
Now I'll warrant there are hosts of my readers ready at once to lift up their
hands and eyes, with that virtuous indignation with which we contemplate
the faults and errors of our neighbors, and to exclaim at the preposterous
idea of convincing the mind by tormenting the body, and establishing the
doctrine of charity and forbearance by intolerant persecution. But, in simple
truth, what are we doing at this very day, and in this very enlightened

nation, but acting upon the very same principle in our political
controversies? Have we not, within but a few years, released ourselves from
the shackles of a government which cruelly denied us the privilege of
governing ourselves, and using in full latitude that invaluable member, the
tongue? and are we not at this very moment striving our best to tyrannize
over the opinions, tie up the tongues, and ruin the fortunes of one another?
What are our great political societies but mere political inquisitions—our
pot-house committees but little tribunals of denunciation—our newspapers
but mere whipping-posts and pillories, where unfortunate individuals are
pelted with rotten eggs—and our council of appointment but a grand auto-
da-fe, where culprits are annually sacrificed for their political heresies?
Where, then, is the difference in principle between our measures and those
you are so ready to condemn among the people I am treating of? There is
none; the difference is merely circumstantial. Thus we denounce, instead of
banishing—we libel, instead of scourging—we turn out of office, instead of
hanging—and where they burnt an offender in proper person, we either tar
and feather, or burn him in effigy—this political persecution being,
somehow or other, the grand palladium of our liberties, and an
incontrovertible proof that this is a free country!
But not withstanding the fervent zeal with which this holy war was
prosecuted against the whole race of unbelievers, we do not find that the
population of this new colony was in anywise hindered thereby; on the
contrary, they multiplied to a degree which would be incredible to any man
unacquainted with the marvelous fecundity of this growing country.
This amazing increase may, indeed, be partly ascribed to a singular custom
prevalent among them, commonly known by the name of bundling—a
superstitious rite observed by the young people of both sexes, with which
they usually terminated their festivities, and which was kept up with
religious strictness by the more bigoted part of the community. This
ceremony was likewise, in those primitive times, considered as an
indispensable preliminary to matrimony, their courtships commencing
where ours usually finish; by which means they acquired that intimate
acquaintance with each other's good qualities before marriage, which has
been pronounced by philosophers the sure basis of a happy union. Thus
early did this cunning and ingenious people display a shrewdness of making

a bargain which has ever since distinguished them, and a strict adherence to
the good old vulgar maxim about "buying a pig in a poke."
To this sagacious custom, therefore, do I chiefly attribute the unparalleled
increase of the Yanokie or Yankee race: for it is a certain fact, well
authenticated by court records and parish registers, that wherever the
practice of bundling prevailed, there was an amazing number of sturdy brats
annually born unto the state, without the license of the law or the benefit of
clergy. Neither did the irregularity of their birth operate in the least to their
disparagement. On the contrary, they grew up a long-sided, raw-boned,
hardy race of whalers, wood-cutters, fishermen, and pedlars, and strapping
corn-fed wenches, who, by their united efforts, tended marvelously toward
peopling those notable tracts of country called Nantucket, Piscataway, and
Cape Cod.

CHAPTER VIII.

In the last chapter I have given a faithful and unprejudiced account of the
origin of that singular race of people inhabiting the country eastward of the
Nieuw Nederlandts, but I have yet to mention certain peculiar habits which
rendered them exceedingly annoying to our ever-honored Dutch ancestors.
The most prominent of these was a certain rambling propensity with which,
like the sons of Ishmael, they seem to have been gifted by Heaven, and
which continually goads them on to shift their residence from place to
place, so that a Yankee farmer is in a constant state of migration, tarrying
occasionally here and there, clearing lands for other people to enjoy,
building houses for others to inhabit, and in a manner may be considered
the wandering Arab of America.
His first thought, on coming to the years of manhood, is to settle himself in
the world—which means nothing more nor less than to begin his rambles.
To this end he takes unto himself for a wife some buxom country heiress,
passing rich in red ribbons, glass beads, and mock-tortoiseshell combs, with
a white gown and morocco shoes for Sunday, and deeply skilled in the
mystery of making apple sweetmeats, long sauce, and pumpkin pie.

Having thus provided himself, like a pedlar, with a heavy knapsack,
wherewith to regale his shoulders through the journey of life, he literally
sets out on the peregrination. His whole family, household furniture, and
farming utensils are hoisted into a covered cart; his own and his wife's
wardrobe packed up in a firkin; which done, he shoulders his axe, takes his
staff in hand, whistles "Yankee doodle," and trudges off to the woods, as
confident of the protection of Providence, and relying as cheerfully upon
his own resources, as did ever a patriarch of yore, when he journeyed into a
strange country of the Gentiles. Having buried himself in the wilderness, he
builds himself a log hut, clears away a corn-field and potato patch, and,
Providence smiling upon his labors, is soon surrounded by a snug farm and
some half a score of flaxen-headed urchins, who, by their size, seem to have
sprung all at once out of the earth like a crop of toadstools.
But it is not the nature of this most indefatigable of speculators to rest
contented with any state of sublunary enjoyment; improvement is his
darling passion, and having thus improved his lands, the next care is to
provide a mansion worthy the residence of a landholder. A huge palace of
pine boards immediately springs up in the midst of the wilderness, large
enough for a parish church, and furnished with windows of all dimensions,
but so rickety and flimsy withal, that every blast gives it a fit of the ague.
By the time the outside of this mighty air castle is completed, either the
funds or the zeal of our adventurer are exhausted, so that he barely manages
to half finish one room within, where the whole family burrow together,
while the rest of the house is devoted to the curing of pumpkins, or storing
of carrots and potatoes, and is decorated with fanciful festoons of dried
apples and peaches. The outside, remaining unpainted, grows venerably
black with time; the family wardrobe is laid under contribution for old hats,
petticoats, and breeches, to stuff into the broken windows, while the four
winds of heaven keep up a whistling and howling about this aerial palace,
and play as many unruly gambols as they did of yore in the cave of old
Æolius.
The humble log hut which whilom nestled this improving family snugly
within its narrow but comfortable walls, stands hard by, in ignominious
contrast, degraded into a cow-house or pig-sty; and the whole scene
reminds one forcibly of a fable, which I am surprised has never been

recorded, of an aspiring snail who abandoned his humble habitation, which
he had long filled with great respectability, to crawl into the empty shell of
a lobster, where he would no doubt have resided with great style and
splendor, the envy and the hate of all the painstaking snails in the
neighborhood, had he not perished with cold in one corner of his
stupendous mansion.
Being thus completely settled, and, to use his own words, "to rights," one
would imagine that he would begin to enjoy the comforts of his situation, to
read newspapers, talk politics, neglect his own business, and attend to the
affairs of the nation like a useful and patriotic citizen; but now it is that his
wayward disposition begins again to operate. He soon grows tired of a spot
where there is no longer any room for improvement—sells his farm, air
castle, petticoat windows and all, reloads his cart, shoulders his axe, puts
himself at the head of his family, and wanders away in search of new lands
—again to fell trees—again to clear corn-fields—again to build a shingle
palace, and again to sell off and wander.
Such were the people of Connecticut, who bordered upon the eastern
frontier of Nieuw Nederlandts, and my readers may easily imagine what
uncomfortable neighbors this light-hearted but restless tribe must have been
to our tranquil progenitors. If they cannot, I would ask them if they have
ever known one of our regular, well-organized Dutch families, whom it hath
pleased Heaven to afflict with the neighborhood of a French boarding-
house? The honest old burgher cannot take his afternoon's pipe on the bench
before his door but he is persecuted with the scraping of fiddles, the
chattering of women, and the squalling of children; he cannot sleep at night
for the horrible melodies of some amateur, who chooses to serenade the
moon, and display his terrible proficiency in execution on the clarionet,
hautboy, or some other soft-toned instrument; nor can he leave the street
door open, but his house is defiled by the unsavory visits of a troop of pug
dogs, who even sometimes carry their loathsome ravages into the sanctum
sanctorum, the parlor.
If my readers have ever witnessed the sufferings of such a family, so
situated, they may form some idea how our worthy ancestors were
distressed by their mercurial neighbors of Connecticut.

Gangs of these marauders, we are told, penetrated into the New-Netherland
settlements, and threw whole villages into consternation by their
unparalleled volubility, and their intolerable inquisitiveness—two evil
habits hitherto unknown in those parts, or only known to be abhorred; for
our ancestors were noted as being men of truly Spartan taciturnity, and who
neither knew nor cared aught about anybody's concerns but their own.
Many enormities were committed on the highways, where several
unoffending burghers were brought to a stand, and tortured with questions
and guesses, which outrages occasioned as much vexation and heart-
burning as does the modern right of search on the high seas.
Great jealousy did they likewise stir up by their intermeddling and
successes among the divine sex, for being a race of brisk, likely, pleasant-
tongued varlets, they soon seduced the light affections of the simple
damsels from their ponderous Dutch gallants. Among other hideous
customs, they attempted to introduce among them that bundling, which the
Dutch lasses of the Nederlandts, with that eager passion for novelty and
foreign fashions natural to their sex, seemed very well inclined to follow,
but that their mothers, being more experienced in the world, and better
acquainted with men and things, strenuously discountenanced all such
outlandish innovations.
But what chiefly operated to embroil our ancestors with these strange folk
was an unwarrantable liberty which they occasionally took of entering in
hordes into the territories of the New Netherlands, and settling themselves
down, without leave or license, to improve the land in the manner I have
before noticed. This unceremonious mode of taking possession of new land
was technically termed squatting, and hence is derived the appellation of
squatters, a name odious in the ears of all great landholders, and which is
given to those enterprising worthies who seize upon land first, and take
their chance to make good their title to it afterward.
All these grievances, and many others which were constantly accumulating,
tended to form that dark and portentious cloud which, as I observed in a
former chapter, was slowly gathering over the tranquil province of New
Netherlands. The pacific cabinet of Van Twiller, however, as will be
perceived in the sequel, bore them all with a magnanimity that redounds to
their immortal credit, becoming by passive endurance inured to this

increasing mass of wrongs, like that mighty man of old, who by dint of
carrying about a calf from the time it was born, continued to carry it without
difficulty when he had grown to be an ox.

CHAPTER IX.

By this time my readers must fully perceive what an arduous task I have
undertaken—exploring a little kind of Herculaneum of history, which had
lain nearly for ages buried under the rubbish of years, and almost totally
forgotten; raking up the limbs and fragments of disjointed facts, and
endeavoring to put them scrupulously together, so as to restore them to their
original form and connection; now lugging forth the character of an almost
forgotten hero, like a mutilated statue: now deciphering a half-defaced
inscription, and now lighting upon a mouldering manuscript, which, after
painful study, scarce repays the trouble of perusal.
In such cases how much has the reader to depend upon the honor and
probity of his author, lest, like a cunning antiquarian, he either impose upon
him some spurious fabrication of his own for a precious relic from
antiquity, or else dress up the dismembered fragment with such false
trappings, that it is scarcely possible to distinguish the truth from the fiction
with which it is enveloped. This is a grievance which I have more than once
had to lament, in the course of my wearisome researches among the works
of my fellow-historians, who have strangely disguised and distorted the
facts respecting this country, and particularly respecting the great province
of New Netherlands, as will be perceived by any who will take the trouble
to compare their romantic effusions, tricked out in the meretricious gauds of
fable, with this authentic history.
I have had more vexations of the kind to encounter, in those parts of my
history which treat of the transactions on the eastern border than in any
other, in consequence of the troops of historians who have infested those
quarters, and have shown the honest people of Nieuw Nederlands no mercy
in their works. Among the rest, Mr. Benjamin Trumbull arrogantly declares
that "the Dutch were always mere intruders." Now, to this I shall make no

other reply than to proceed in the steady narration of my history, which will
contain not only proofs that the Dutch had clear title and possession in the
fair valleys of the Connecticut, and that they were wrongfully dispossessed
thereof, but, likewise, that they have been scandalously maltreated ever
since by the misrepresentations of the crafty historians of New England.
And in this I shall be guided by a spirit of truth and impartiality, and a
regard to immortal fame; for I would not wittingly dishonor my work by a
single falsehood, misrepresentation, or prejudice, though it should gain our
forefathers the whole country of New England.
I have already noticed, in a former chapter of my history that the territories
of the Nieuw Nederlandts extended on the east quite to the Varsche, or
Fresh, or Connecticut River. Here, at an early period, had been established a
frontier post on the bank of the river, and called Fort Goed Hoop, not far
from the site of the present fair city of Hartford. It was placed under the
command of Jacobus Van Curlet, or Curlis, as some historians will have it, a
doughty soldier, of that stomachful class famous for eating all they kill. He
was long in the body and short in the limb, as though a tall man's body had
been mounted on a little man's legs. He made up for this turnspit
construction by striding to such an extent, that you would have sworn he
had on the seven-leagued boots of Jack the Giant Killer; and so high did he
tread on parade, that his soldiers were sometimes alarmed lest he should
trample himself under foot.
But not withstanding the erection of this fort, and the appointment of this
ugly little man of war as commander, the Yankees continued the
interlopings hinted at in my last chapter, and at length had the audacity to
squat themselves down within the jurisdiction of Fort Goed Hoop.
The long-bodied Van Curlet protested with great spirit against these
unwarrantable encroachments, couching his protest in Low Dutch, by way
of inspiring more terror, and forthwith dispatched a copy of the protest to
the governor at New Amsterdam, together with a long and bitter account of
the aggressions of the enemy. This done, he ordered his men, one and all, to
be of good cheer, shut the gate of the fort, smoked three pipes, went to bed,
and awaited the result with a resolute and intrepid tranquillity, that greatly
animated his adherents, and, no doubt, struck sore dismay and affright into
the hearts of the enemy.

Now it came to pass that, about this time, the renowned Wouter Van Twiller,
full of years and honors, and council dinners, had reached the period of life
and faculty which, according to the great Gulliver, entitles a man to
admission into the ancient order of Struldbruggs. He employed his time in
smoking his Turkish pipe amid an assemblage of sages equally enlightened,
and nearly as venerable, as himself, and who, for their silence, their gravity,
their wisdom, and their cautious averseness to coming to any conclusion in
business, are only to be equalled by certain profound corporations which I
have known in my time. Upon reading the protest of the gallant Jacobus
Van Curlet, therefore, His Excellency fell straightway into one of the
deepest doubts that ever he was known to encounter; his capacious head
gradually drooped on his chest; he closed his eyes, and inclined his ear to
one side, as if listening with great attention to the discussion that was going
on in his belly, and which all who knew him declared to be the huge
courthouse or council chamber of his thoughts, forming to his head what the
House of Representatives does to the Senate. An inarticulate sound, very
much resembling a snore, occasionally escaped him; but the nature of this
internal cogitation was never known, as he never opened his lips on the
subject to man, woman or child. In the meantime, the protect of Van Curlet
lay quietly on the table, where it served to light the pipes of the venerable
sages assembled in council; and, in the great smoke which they raised, the
gallant Jacobus, his protest, and his mighty fort Goed Hoop, were soon as
completely beclouded and forgotten, as is a question of emergency
swallowed up in the speeches and resolutions of a modern session of
Congress.
There are certain emergencies when your profound legislators and sage
deliberative councils are mightily in the way of a nation, and when an
ounce of hair-brained decision is worth a pound of sage doubt and cautious
discussion. Such, at least, was the case at present; for while the renowned
Wouter Van Twiller was daily battling with his doubts, and his resolution
growing weaker and weaker in the contest, the enemy pushed farther and
farther into his territories, and assumed a most formidable appearance in the
neighborhood of the Fort Goed Hoop. Here they founded the mighty town
of Pyquag, or, as it has since been called, Weathersfield—a place which, if
we may credit the assertions of that worthy historian, John Josselyn, gent.,
"hath been infamous by reason of the witches therein." And so daring did

these men of Pyquag become, that they extended those plantations of
onions, for which their town is illustrious, under the very noses of the
garrison of Fort Goed Hoop, insomuch that the honest Dutchmen could not
look toward that quarter without tears in their eyes.
This crying injustice was regarded with proper indignation by the gallant
Jacobus Van Curlet. He absolutely trembled with the violence of this choler
and the exacerbations of his valor, which were the more turbulent in their
workings from the length of the body in which they were agitated. He
forthwith proceeded to strengthen his redoubts, heighten his breastworks,
deepen his fosse, and fortify his position with a double row of abattis; after
which he dispatched a fresh courier with accounts of his perilous situation.
The courier chosen to bear the dispatches was a fat, oily little man, as being
less liable to be worn out or to lose leather on the journey; and, to insure his
speed, he was mounted on the fleetest wagon horse in the garrison,
remarkable for length of limb, largeness of bone, and hardness of trot; and
so tall, that the little messenger was obliged to climb on his back by means
of his tail and crupper. Such extraordinary speed did he make, that he
arrived at Fort Amsterdam in a little less than a month, though the distance
was full two hundred pipes, or about one hundred and twenty miles.
With an appearance of great hurry and business, and smoking a short
traveling pipe, he proceeded on a long swing trot through the muddy lanes
of the metropolis, demolishing whole batches of dirt pies which the little
Dutch children were making in the road, and for which kind of pastry the
children of this city have ever been famous. On arriving at the governor's
house, he climbed down from his steed, roused the gray-headed doorkeeper,
old Skaats, who, like his lineal descendant and faithful representative, the
venerable crier of our court, was nodding at his post, rattled at the door of
the council chamber, and startled the members as they were dozing over a
plan for establishing a public market.
At that very moment a gentle grunt, or rather a deep-drawn snore, was
heard from the chair of the governor, a whiff of smoke was at the same
instant observed to escape from his lips, and a light cloud to ascend from
the bowl of his pipe. The council, of course, supposed him engaged in deep
sleep for the good of the community, and according to custom, in all such

cases established, every man bawled out "Silence!" when, of a sudden, the
door flew open, and the little courier straddled into the apartment, cased to
the middle in a pair of Hessian boots, which he had got into for the sake of
expedition. In his right hand he held forth the ominous dispatches, and with
his left he grasped firmly the waistband of his galligaskins, which had
unfortunately given way in the exertion of descending from his horse. He
stumped resolutely up to the governor, and, with more hurry than
perspicuity, delivered his message. But, fortunately, his ill tidings came too
late to ruffle the tranquillity of this most tranquil of rulers. His venerable
Excellency had just breathed and smoked his last; his lungs and his pipe
having been exhausted together, and his peaceful soul having escaped in the
last whiff that curled from his tobacco pipe. In a word, the renowned Walter
the Doubter, who had so often slumbered with his contemporaries, now
slept with his fathers, and Wilhelmus Kieft governed in his stead.

BOOK IV.
CONTAINING THE CHRONICLES OF THE REIGN OF WILLIAM THE
TESTY.

CHAPTER I.

When the lofty Thucydides is about to enter upon his description of the
plague that desolated Athens, one of his modern commentators assures the
reader that the history is now going to be exceedingly solemn, serious and
pathetic; and hints, with that air of chuckling gratulation with which a good
dame draws forth a choice morsel from a cupboard to regale a favorite, that
this plague will give his history a most agreeable variety.
In like manner did my heart leap within me when I came to the dolorous
dilemma of Fort Good Hope, which I at once perceived to be the forerunner
of a series of great events and entertaining disasters. Such are the true
subjects for the historic pen. For what is history, in fact, but a kind of
Newgate Calendar—a register of the crimes and miseries that man has
inflicted on his fellow-men? It is a huge libel on human nature to which we
industriously add page after page, volume after volume, as if we were
building up a monument to the honor, rather than the infamy, of our species.
If we turn over the pages of these chronicles that man has written of
himself, what are the characters dignified by the appellation of great, and
held up to the admiration of posterity? Tyrants, robbers, conquerors,
renowned only for the magnitude of their misdeeds and the stupendous
wrongs and miseries they have inflicted on mankind—warriors, who have
hired themselves to the trade of blood, not from motives of virtuous
patriotism, or to protect the injured and defenseless, but merely to gain the
vaunted glory of being adroit and successful in massacring their fellow-
beings! What are the great events that constitute a glorious era? The fall of
empires, the desolation of happy countries, splendid cities smoking in their

ruins, the proudest works of art tumbled in the dust, the shrieks and groans
of whole nations ascending unto heaven!
It is thus the historians may be said to thrive on the miseries of mankind,
like birds of prey which hover over the field of battle to fatten on the
mighty dead. It was observed by a great projector of inland lock navigation,
that rivers, lakes, and oceans were only formed to feed canals. In like
manner I am tempted to believe that plots, conspiracies, wars, victories, and
massacres are ordained by Providence only as food for the historian.
It is a source of great delight to the philosophers, in studying the wonderful
economy of nature, to trace the mutual dependencies of things—how they
are created reciprocally for each other, and how the most noxious and
apparently unnecessary animal has its uses. Thus those swarms of flies
which are so often execrated as useless vermin are created for the
sustenance of spiders; and spiders, on the other hand, are evidently made to
devour flies. So those heroes who have been such scourges to the world
were bounteously provided as themes for the poet and historian, while the
poet and the historian were destined to record the achievements of heroes!
These and many similar reflections naturally arose in my mind as I took up
my pen to commence the reign of William Kieft; for now the stream of our
history, which hitherto has rolled in a tranquil current, is about to depart, for
ever from its peaceful haunts, and brawl through many a turbulent and
rugged scene.
As some sleek ox, sunk in the rich repose of a clover field, dozing and
chewing the cud, will bear repeated blows before it raises itself, so the
province of Nieuw Nederlandts, having waxed fat under the drowsy reign
of the Doubter, needed cuffs and kicks to rouse it into action. The reader
will now witness the manner in which a peaceful community advances
towards a state of war; which is apt to be like the approach of a horse to a
drum, with much prancing and little progress, and too often with the wrong
end foremost.
Wilhelmus Kieft, who in 1634 ascended the gubernatorial chair, to borrow a
favorite though clumsy appellation of modern phraseologists, was of a lofty
descent, his father being inspector of windmills in the ancient town of
Saardam; and our hero, we are told, when a boy, made very curious

investigations into the nature and operation of these machines, which was
one reason why he afterwards came to be so ingenious a governor. His
name, according to the most authentic etymologists, was a corruption of
Kyver; that is to say, a wrangler or scolder; and expressed the characteristic
of his family, which for nearly two centuries had kept the windy town of
Saardam in hot water, and produced more tartars and brimstones than any
ten families in the place; and so truly did he inherit this family peculiarity
that he had not been a year in the government of the province before he was
universally denominated William the Testy. His appearance answered to his
name. He was a brisk, wiry, waspish little old gentleman, such a one as may
now and then be seen stumping about our city in a broad-skirted coat with
huge buttons, a cocked hat stuck on the back of his head, and a cane as high
as his chin. His face was broad, but his features were sharp; his cheeks were
scorched into a dusky red, by two fiery little gray eyes, his nose turned up,
and the corners of his mouth turned down pretty much like the muzzle of an
irritable pug-dog.
I have heard it observed by a profound adept in human physiology that if a
woman waxes fat with the progress of years her tenure of life is somewhat
precarious, but if haply she withers as she grows old, she lives for ever.
Such promised to be the case with William the Testy, who grew tough in
proportion as he dried. He had withered, in fact, not through the process of
years, but through the tropical fervor of his soul, which burnt like a
vehement rushlight in his bosom, inciting him to incessant broils and
bickerings. Ancient traditions speak much of his learning, and of the gallant
inroads he had made into the dead languages, in which he had made captive
a host of Greek nouns and Latin verbs, and brought off rich booty in ancient
saws and apophthegms, which he was wont to parade in his public
harangues, as a triumphant general of yore his spolia opima. Of
metaphysics he knew enough to confound all hearers and himself into the
bargain. In logic, he knew the whole family of syllogisms and dilemmas,
and was so proud of his skill that he never suffered even a self-evident fact
to pass unargued. It was observed, however, that he seldom got into an
argument without getting into a perplexity, and then into a passion with his
adversary for not being convinced gratis.
He had, moreover, skirmished smartly on the frontiers of several of the
sciences, was fond of experimental philosophy, and prided himself upon

inventions of all kinds. His abode, which he had fixed at a bowery, or
country seat, at a short distance from the city, just at what is now called
Dutch Street, soon abounded with proofs of his ingenuity; patent smoke
jacks that required a horse to work them; Dutch ovens that roasted meat
without fire; carts that went before the horses; weathercocks that turned
against the wind; and other wrong-headed contrivances that astonished and
confounded all beholders. The house, too, was beset with paralytic cats and
dogs, the subjects of his experimental philosophy; and the yelling and
yelping of the latter unhappy victims of science, while aiding in the pursuit
of knowledge, soon gained for the place the name of "Dog's Misery," by
which it continues to be known even at the present day.
It is in knowledge as in swimming, he who flounders and splashes on the
surface makes more noise and attracts more attention than the pearl diver
who quietly dives in quest of treasures to the bottom. The vast acquirements
of the new governor were the theme of marvel among the simple burghers
of New Amsterdam; he figured about the place as learned a man as a Bonze
at Pekin, who has mastered one-half of the Chinese alphabet; and was
unanimously pronounced a "universal genius!"
I have known in my time many a genius of this stamp; but, to speak my
mind freely, I never knew one who, for the ordinary purposes of life, was
worth his weight in straw. In this respect a little sound judgment and plain
common sense is worth all the sparkling genius that ever wrote poetry or
invented theories. Let us see how the universal acquirements of William the
Testy aided him in the affairs of government.

CHAPTER II.

No sooner had this bustling little potentate been blown by a whiff of fortune
into the seat of government than he called his council together to make
them a speech on the state of affairs.
Caius Gracchus, it is said, when he harangued the Roman populace,
modulated his tone by an oratorical flute or pitch pipe. Wilhelmus Kieft, not
having such an instrument at hand, availed himself of that musical organ or

trump which nature has implanted in the midst of a man's face; in other
words, he preluded his address by a sonorous blast of the nose; a
preliminary flourish much in vogue among public orators.
He then commenced by expressing his humble sense of his utter
unworthiness of the high post to which he had been appointed, which made
some of the simple burghers wonder why he undertook it, not knowing that
it is a point of etiquette with a public orator never to enter upon office
without declaring himself unworthy to cross the threshold. He then
proceeded, in a manner highly classic and erudite, to speak of government
generally, and of the governments of ancient Greece in particular; together
with the wars of Rome and Carthage, and the rise and fall of sundry
outlandish empires which the worthy burghers had never read nor heard of.
Having thus, after the manner of your learned orators, treated of things in
general, he came by a natural roundabout transition to the matter in hand,
namely, the daring aggressions of the Yankees.
As my readers are well aware of the advantage a potentate has of handling
his enemies as he pleases in his speeches and bulletins, where he has the
talk all on his own side, they may rest assured that William the Testy did not
let such an opportunity escape of giving the Yankees what is called "a taste
of his quality." In speaking of their inroads into the territories of their High
Mightinesses, he compared them to the Gauls, who desolated Rome; the
Goths and Vandals, who overran the fairest plains of Europe; but when he
came to speak of the unparalleled audacity with which they at Weathersfield
had advanced their patches up to the very walls of Fort Goed Hoop, and
threatened to smother the garrison in onions, tears of rage started into his
eyes, as though he nosed the very offence in question.
Having thus wrought up his tale to a climax, he assumed a most belligerent
look, and assured the council that he had devised an instrument potent in its
effects, and which he trusted would soon drive the Yankees from the land.
So saying, he thrust his hand into one of the deep pockets of his broad-
skirted coat and drew forth, not an infernal machine, but an instrument in
writing, which he laid with great emphasis upon the table.
The burghers gazed at it for a time in silent awe, as a wary housewife does
at a gun, fearful it may go off half-cocked. The document in question had a

sinister look, it is true; it was crabbed in text, and from a broad red ribbon
dangled the great seal of the province, about the size of a buckwheat
pancake. Herein, however, existed the wonder of the invention. The
document in question was a proclamation, ordering the Yankees to depart
instantly from the territories of their High Mightinesses, under pain of
suffering all the forfeitures and punishments in such case made and
provided. It was on the moral effect of this formidable instrument that
Wilhelmus Kieft calculated; pledging his valor as a governor that, once
fulminated against the Yankees, it would in less than two months drive
every mother's son of them across the borders.
The council broke up in perfect wonder, and nothing was talked of for some
time among the old men and women of New Amsterdam but the vast genius
of the governor and his new and cheap mode of fighting by proclamation.
As to Wilhelmus Kieft, having dispatched his proclamation to the frontiers,
he put on his cocked hat and corduroy small clothes, and, mounting a tall,
raw-boned charger, trotted out to his rural retreat of Dog's Misery. Here,
like the good Numa, he reposed from the toils of state, taking lessons in
government, not from the nymph Egeria, but from the honored wife of his
bosom, who was one of that class of females, sent upon the earth a little
after the flood, as a punishment for the sins of mankind, and commonly
known by the appellation of knowing women. In fact, my duty as an
historian obliges me to make known a circumstance which was a great
secret at the time, and consequently was not a subject of scandal at more
than half the tea tables in New Amsterdam, but which, like many other great
secrets, has leaked out in the lapse of years; and this was, that Wilhelmus
the Testy, though one of the most potent little men that ever breathed, yet
submitted at home to a species of government, neither laid down in
Aristotle or Plato; in short, it partook of the nature of a pure, unmixed
tyranny, and is familiarly denominated petticoat government. An absolute
sway, which, although exceedingly common in these modern days, was
very rare among the ancients, if we may judge from the rout made about the
domestic economy of honest Socrates, which is the only ancient case on
record.
The great Kieft, however, warded off all the sneers and sarcasms of his
particular friends, who are ever ready to joke with a man on sore points of

the kind, by alleging that it was a government of his own election, to which
he submitted through choice; adding, at the same time, a profound maxim
which he had found in an ancient author, that "he who would aspire to
govern should first learn to obey."

CHAPTER III.

Never was a more comprehensive, a more expeditious, or, what is still
better, a more economical measure devised than this of defeating the
Yankees by proclamation—an expedient, likewise, so gentle and humane,
there were ten chances to one in favor of its succeeding; but then, there was
one chance to ten that it would not succeed. As the ill-natured Fates would
have it, that single chance carried the day! The proclamation was perfect in
all its parts, well constructed, well written, well sealed, and well published;
all that was wanting to insure its effect was, that the Yankees should stand
in awe of it; but, provoking to relate, they treated it with the most absolute
contempt, applied it to an unseemly purpose, and thus did the first warlike
proclamation come to a shameful end—a fate which I am credibly informed
has befallen but too many of its successors.
So far from abandoning the country, those varlets continued their
encroachments, squatting along the green banks of the Varsche river, and
founding Hartford, Stamford, New Haven, and other border towns. I have
already shown how the onion patches of Pyquag were an eyesore to Jacobus
Van Curlet and his garrison, but now these moss troopers increased in their
atrocities, kidnaping hogs, impounding horses, and sometimes grievously
rib-roasting their owners. Our worthy forefathers could scarcely stir abroad
without danger of being outjockeyed in horseflesh, or taken in in
bargaining; while, in their absence, some daring Yankee pedlar would
penetrate to their household, and nearly ruin the good housewives with
tinware and wooden bowls.[34]
I am well aware of the perils which environ me in this part of my history.
While raking, with curious hand but pious heart, among the mouldering
remains of former days, anxious to draw therefrom the honey of wisdom, I

may fare somewhat like that valiant worthy, Samson, who, in meddling
with the carcase of a dead lion, drew a swarm of bees about his ears. Thus,
while narrating the many misdeeds of the Yanokie or Yankee race, it is ten
chances to one but I offend the morbid sensibilities of certain of their
unreasonable descendants, who may fly out and raise such a buzzing about
this unlucky head of mine, that I shall need the tough hide of an Achilles, or
an Orlando Furioso, to protect me from their stings.
Should such be the case, I should deeply and sincerely lament—not my
misfortune in giving offence—but the wrong-headed perverseness of an ill-
natured generation, in taking offence at anything I say. That their ancestors
did use my ancestors ill is true, and I am very sorry for it. I would, with all
my heart, the fact were otherwise; but as I am recording the sacred events of
history, I'd not bate one nail's breadth of the honest truth, though I were sure
the whole edition of my work would be bought up and burnt by the
common hangman of Connecticut. And in sooth, now that these testy
gentlemen have drawn me out, I will make bold to go farther, and observe
that this is one of the grand purposes for which we impartial historians are
sent into the world—to redress wrongs, and render justice on the heads of
the guilty. So that, though a powerful nation may wrong its neighbors with
temporary impunity, yet sooner or later an historian springs up, who wreaks
ample chastisement on it in return.
Thus these moss-troopers of the east little thought, I'll warrant it, while they
were harassing the inoffensive province of Nieuw Nederlandts, and driving
its unhappy governor to his wits' end, that an historian would ever arise, and
give them their own with interest. Since, then, I am but performing my
bounden duty as a historian in avenging the wrongs of our reverend
ancestors, I shall make no further apology; and, indeed, when it is
considered that I have all these ancient borderers of the east in my power,
and at the mercy of my pen, I trust that it will be admitted I conduct myself
with great humanity and moderation.
It was long before William the Testy could be persuaded that his much-
vaunted war measure was ineffectual; on the contrary, he flew in a passion
whenever it was doubted, swearing that though slow in operating, yet when
it once began to work it would soon purge the land of those invaders. When
convinced at length of the truth, like a shrewd physician, he attributed the

failure to the quantity, not the quality of the medicine, and resolved to
double the dose. He fulminated, therefore, a second proclamation more
vehement than the first, forbidding all intercourse with these Yankee
intruders; ordering the Dutch burghers on the frontiers to buy none of their
pacing horses, measly pork, apple sweetmeats, Weathersfield onions, or
wooden bowls, and to furnish them with no supplies of gin, gingerbread, or
sourkrout.
Another interval elapsed, during which the last proclamation was as little
regarded as the first, and the non-intercourse was especially set at nought by
the young folks of both sexes.
At length one day inhabitants of New Amsterdam were aroused by a furious
barking of dogs, great and small, and beheld to their surprise the whole
garrison of Fort Good Hope straggling into town all tattered and way-worn,
with Jacobus Van Curlet at their head, bringing the melancholy intelligence
of the capture of Fort Good Hope by the Yankees.
The fate of this important fortress is an impressive warning to all military
commanders. It was neither carried by storm nor famine; nor was it
undermined, nor bombarded, nor set on fire by red-hot shot, but was taken
by a stratagem no less singular than effectual, and which can never fail of
success whenever an opportunity occurs of putting it in practice.
It seems that the Yankees had received intelligence that the garrison of
Jacobus Van Curlet had been reduced nearly one-eighth by the death of two
of his most corpulent soldiers, who had over-eaten themselves on fat
salmon caught in the Varsche river. A secret expedition was immediately set
on foot to surprise the fortress. The crafty enemy, knowing the habits of the
garrison to sleep soundly after they had eaten their dinners and smoked
their pipes, stole upon them at the noonstide of a sultry summer's day, and
surprised them in the midst of their slumbers.
In an instant the flag of their High Mightinesses was lowered, and the
Yankee standard elevated in its stead, being a dried codfish, by way of a
spread eagle. A strong garrison was appointed of long-sided, hard-fisted
Yankees, with Weathersfield onions for cockades and feathers. As to
Jacobus Van Curlet and his men, they were seized by the nape of the neck,
conducted to the gate, and one by one dismissed with a kick in the crupper,

as Charles XII dismissed the heavy-bottomed Russians at the battle of
Narva; Jacobus Van Curlet receiving two kicks in consideration of his
official dignity.
FOOTNOTES:
[34]
The following cases in point appear in Hazard's "Collection of
State Papers:"—"In the meantime, they of Hartford have not
onely usurped and taken in the lands of Connecticott, although
uprighteously and against the lawes of nations, but have hindered
our nation in sowing theire own purchased broken-up lands, but
have also sowed them with corne in the night, which the
Nederlanders had broken up and intended to sowe; and have
beaten the servants of the high and mighty the honored companie,
which were labouring upon theire masters' lands, from theire
lands, with sticks and plow staves in hostile manner laming, and,
among the rest, struck Ever Duckings [Evert Duyckink] a hole in
his head with a stick, so that the bloode ran downe very strongly
downe upon his body."
"Those of Hartford sold a hogg, that belonged to the honored
companie, under pretence that it had eaten of theire grounde
grass, when they had not any foot of inheritance. They proffered
the hogg for 5s. if the commissioners would have given 5s. for
damage; which the commissioners denied, because noe man's
own hogg (as men used to say), can trespass upon his owne
master's grounde."

CHAPTER IV.

Language cannot express the awful ire of William the Testy on hearing of
the catastrophe at Fort Goed Hoop. For three good hours his rage was too
great for words, or rather the words were too great for him (being a very
small man), and he was nearly choked by the misshapen, nine-cornered

Dutch oaths and epithets which crowded at one into his gullet. At length his
words found vent, and for three days he kept up a constant discharge,
anathematising the Yankees, man, woman, and child, for a set of dieven,
schobbejacken, deugenieten, twist-zoekeren, blaes-kaken, loosen-schalken,
kakken-bedden, and a thousand other names, of which, unfortunately for
posterity, history does not make mention. Finally, he swore that he would
have nothing more to do with such a squatting, bundling, guessing,
questioning, swapping, pumpkin-eating, molasses-daubing, shingle-
splitting, cider-watering, horse-jockeying, notion-peddling crew—that they
might stay at Fort Goed Hoop and rot, before he would dirty his hands by
attempting to drive them away; in proof of which he ordered the new-raised
troops to be marched forthwith into winter quarters, although it was not as
yet quite midsummer. Great despondency now fell upon the city of New
Amsterdam. It was feared that the conquerors of Fort Goed Hoop, flushed
with victory and apple-brandy, might march on to the capital, take it by
storm, and annex the whole province to Connecticut. The name of Yankee
became as terrible among the Nieuw Nederlanders as was that of Gaul
among the ancient Romans, insomuch that the good wives of the
Manhattoes used it as a bugbear wherewith to frighten their unruly children.
Everybody clamored round the governor, imploring him to put the city in a
complete posture of defence, and he listened to their clamors. Nobody could
accuse William the Testy of being idle in time of danger, or at any other
time. He was never idle, but then he was often busy to very little purpose.
When a youngling he had been impressed with the words of Solomon, "Go
to the ant, thou sluggard, observe her ways and be wise," in conformity to
which he had ever been of a restless, ant-like turn; hurrying hither and
thither, nobody knew why or wherefore, busying himself about small
matters with an air of great importance and anxiety, and toiling at a grain of
mustard-seed in the full conviction that he was moving a mountain. In the
present instance he called in all his inventive powers to his aid, and was
continually pondering over plans, making diagrams, and worrying about
with a troop of workmen and projectors at his heels. At length, after a world
of consultation and contrivance, his plans of defence ended in rearing a
great flag-staff in the center of the fort, and perching a windmill on each
bastion.

These warlike preparations in some measure allayed the public alarm,
especially after an additional means of securing the safety of the city had
been suggested by the governor's lady. It has already been hinted in this
most authentic history that in the domestic establishment of William the
Testy "the grey mare was the better horse;" in other words, that his wife
"ruled the roast," and, in governing the governor, governed the province,
which might thus be said to be under petticoat government.
Now it came to pass that this time there lived in the Manhattoes a jolly,
robustious trumpeter, named Anthony Van Corlear, famous for his long
wind; and who, as the story goes, could twang so potently upon his
instrument that the effect upon all within hearing was like that ascribed to
the Scotch bagpipe when it sings right lustily i' the nose.
This sounder of brass was moreover a lusty bachelor, with a pleasant, burly
visage, a long nose, and huge whiskers. He had his little bowery, or retreat
in the country, where he led a roystering life, giving dances to the wives and
daughters of the burghers of the Manhattoes, insomuch that he became a
prodigious favorite with all the women, young and old. He is said to have
been the first to collect that famous toll levied on the fair sex at Kissing
Bridge, on the highway to Hell-gate.[35]
To this sturdy bachelor the eyes of all the women were turned in this time of
darkness and peril, as the very man to second and carry out the plans of
defence of the governor. A kind of petticoat council was forthwith held at
the government house, at which the governor's lady presided: and this lady,
as has been hinted, being all potent with the governor, the result of these
councils was the elevation of Anthony the Trumpeter to the post of
commandant of windmills and champion of New Amsterdam.
The city being thus fortified and garrisoned, it would have done one's heart
good to see the governor snapping his fingers and fidgeting with delight, as
the trumpeter strutted up and down the ramparts twanging defiance to the
whole Yankee race, as does a modern editor to all the principalities and
powers on the other side of the Atlantic. In the hands of Anthony Van
Corlear this windy instrument appeared to him as potent as the horn of the
paladin Astolpho, or even the more classic horn of Alecto; nay, he had

almost the temerity to compare it with the rams' horns celebrated in Holy
Writ, at the very sound of which the walls of Jericho fell down.
Be all this as it may, the apprehensions of hostilities from the east gradually
died away. The Yankees made no further invasion; nay, they declared they
had only taken possession of Fort Goed Hoop as being erected within their
territories. So far from manifesting hostility, they continued to throng to
New Amsterdam with the most innocent countenances imaginable, filling
the market with their notions, being as ready to trade with the Netherlands
as ever, and not a whit more prone to get to the windward of them in a
bargain.
The old wives of the Manhattoes who took tea with the governor's lady
attributed all this affected moderation to the awe inspired by the military
preparations of the governor, and the windy prowess of Anthony the
Trumpeter.
There were not wanting illiberal minds, however, who sneered at the
governor for thinking to defend his city as he governed it, by mere wind;
but William Kieft was not to be jeered out of his windmills; he had seen
them perched upon the ramparts of his native city of Saardam; and was
persuaded they were connected with the great science of defence; nay, so
much piqued was he by having them made a matter of ridicule, that he
introduced them into the arms of the city, where they remain to this day,
quartered with the ancient beaver of the Manhattoes, an emblem and
memento of his policy.
I must not omit to mention that certain wise old burghers of the Manhattoes,
skilful in expounding signs and mysteries, after events have come to pass,
consider this early intrusion of the windmill into the escutcheon of our city,
which before had been wholly occupied by the beaver, as portentous of its
after fortune, when the quiet Dutchman would be elbowed aside by the
enterprising Yankee, and patient industry overtopped by windy speculation.
FOOTNOTES:
[35]
The bridge here mentioned by Mr. Knickerbocker still exists; but
it is said that the toll is seldom collected nowadays excepting on

sleighing parties, by the descendants of the patriarchs, who still
preserve the traditions of the city.

CHAPTER V.

Among the wrecks and fragments of exalted wisdom which have floated
down the stream of time from venerable antiquity, and been picked up by
those humble but industrious wights who ply along the shores of literature,
we find a shrewd ordinance of Charondas the Locrian legislator. Anxious to
preserve the judicial code of the state from the additions and amendments
of country members and seekers of popularity, he ordained that, whoever
proposed a new law should do it with a halter about his neck; whereby, in
case his proposition were rejected, they just hung him up—and there the
matter ended.
The effect was, that for more than two hundred years there was but one
trifling alteration in the judicial code; and legal matters were so clear and
simple that the whole race of lawyers starved to death for want of
employment. The Locrians, too, being freed from all incitement to
litigation, lived very lovingly together, and were so happy a people that they
make scarce any figure in history; it being only your litigatous,
quarrelsome, rantipole nations who make much noise in the world.
I have been reminded of these historical facts in coming to treat of the
internal policy of William the Testy. Well would it have been for him had he
in the course of his universal acquirements stumbled upon the precaution of
the good Charondas; or had he looked nearer home at the protectorate of
Oloffe the Dreamer, when the community was governed without laws. Such
legislation, however, was not suited to the busy, meddling mind of William
the Testy. On the contrary, he conceived that the true wisdom of legislation
consisted in the multiplicity of laws. He accordingly had great punishments
for great crimes, and little punishments for little offences. By degrees the
whole surface of society was cut up by ditches and fences, and quickset
hedges of the law, and even the sequestered paths of private life so beset by
petty rules and ordinances, too numerous to be remembered, that one could

scarce walk at large without the risk of letting off a spring-gun or falling
into a man-trap.
In a little while the blessings of innumerable laws became apparent; a class
of men arose to expound and confound them. Petty courts were instituted to
take cognizance of petty offences, pettifoggers began to abound, and the
community was soon set together by the ears.
Let me not be thought as intending anything derogatory to the profession of
the law, or to the distinguished members of that illustrious order. Well am I
aware that we have in this ancient city innumerable worthy gentlemen, the
knights-errant of modern days, who go about redressing wrongs and
defending the defenceless, not for the love of filthy lucre, nor the selfish
cravings of renown, but merely for the pleasure of doing good. Sooner
would I throw this trusty pen into the flames, and cork up my ink-bottle for
ever, than infringe even for a nail's breadth upon the dignity of these truly
benevolent champions of the distressed. On the contrary, I allude merely to
those caitiff scouts who, in these latter days of evil, infest the skirts of the
profession, as did the recreant Cornish knights of yore the honorable order
of chivalry; who, under its auspices, commit flagrant wrongs; who thrive by
quibbles, by quirks and chicanery, and like vermin increase the corruption
in which they are engendered.
Nothing so soon awakens the malevolent passions as the facility of
gratification. The courts of law would never be so crowded with petty,
vexatious, and disgraceful suits were it not for the herds of pettifoggers.
These tamper with the passions of the poorer and more ignorant classes;
who, as if poverty were not a sufficient misery in itself, are ever ready to
embitter it by litigation. These, like quacks in medicine, excite the malady
to profit by the cure, and retard the cure to augment the fees. As the quack
exhausts the constitution the pettifogger exhausts the purse; and as he who
has once been under the hands of a quack is for ever after prone to dabble in
drugs, and poison himself with infallible prescriptions, so the client of the
pettifogger is ever after prone to embroil himself with his neighbors, and
impoverish himself with successful lawsuits. My readers will excuse this
digression into which I have been unwarily betrayed; but I could not avoid
giving a cool and unprejudiced account of an abomination too prevalent in
this excellent city, and with the effects of which I am ruefully acquainted,

having been nearly ruined by a lawsuit which was decided against me; and
my ruin having been completed by another, which was decided in my favor.
To return to our theme. There was nothing in the whole range of moral
offences against which the jurisprudence of William the Testy was more
strenuously directed than the crying sin of poverty. He pronounced it the
root of all evil, and determined to cut it up root and branch, and extirpate it
from the land. He had been struck, in the course of his travels in the old
countries of Europe, with the wisdom of those notices posted up in country
towns, that "any vagrant found begging there would be put in the stocks,"
and he had observed that no beggars were to be seen in these
neighborhoods; having doubtless thrown off their rags and their poverty,
and become rich under the terror of the law. He determined to improve upon
this hint. In a little while a new machine of his own invention was erected
hard by Dog's Misery. This was nothing more nor less than a gibbet, of a
very strange, uncouth, and unmatchable construction, far more efficacious,
as he boasted, than the stocks, for the punishment of poverty. It was for
altitude not a whit inferior to that of Haman, so renowned in Bible history;
but the marvel of the contrivance was, that the culprit, instead of being
suspended by the neck according to venerable custom, was hoisted by the
waistband, and kept dangling and sprawling between heaven and earth for
an hour or two at a time, to the infinite entertainment and edification of the
respectable citizens who usually attend exhibitions of the kind.
Such was the punishment of all petty delinquents, vagrants, and beggars and
others detected in being guilty of poverty in a small way. As to those who
had offended on a great scale, who had been guilty of flagrant misfortunes
and enormous backslidings of the purse, and who stood convicted of large
debts which they were unable to pay, William Kieft had them straightway
enclosed within the stone walls of a prison, there to remain until they
should reform and grow rich. This notable expedient, however, does not
appear to have been more efficacious under William the Testy than in more
modern days, it being found that the longer a poor devil was kept in prison
the poorer he grew.

END OF VOLUME I.

KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY OF NEW
YORK.
VOLUME II.

INTRODUCTION.

The playful devices by which attention was directed to the coming
publication of the History of Diedrich Knickerbocker are represented in the
author's opening to the first volume. Irving joined afterward in business as a
sleeping partner, visited England in 1815, and, while cordially welcomed
here by Thomas Campbell, Walter Scott, and others, the failure of his
brother's business obliged him to make writing his profession. The
publishers at first refused to take one of the most charming of his works, the
"Sketch Book"; but John Murray yielded at last to the influence of Walter
Scott, and paid £200 for the copyright of it, a sum afterward increased to
£400. "Bracebridge Hall" and the "Tales of a Traveler" followed. Irving
went to Spain with the American Ambassador to translate documents and
acquire experience which he used afterward in successive books. "The Life
and Voyages of Columbus" appeared in 1828, and was followed by
"Voyages of the Companions of Columbus."
In 1829 Washington Irving came again to England, this time as Secretary to
the American Legation. He published the "Conquest of Granada." In 1831
he received the honorary degree of LL.D. from the University of Oxford.
Then he returned to America, published in 1832 "The Alhambra;" in 1835
"Legends of the Conquest of Spain." In 1842 he went again to Spain, this
time as American Minister. Other works were produced, and at the close of
his life he achieved his early ambition, by writing a Life of Washington,
after whom he had been named, and who had laid his hand upon his head
and blessed him when he was a child of five. Although the first of the five
volumes of the Life of Washington did not appear until he was more than
seventy years old, he lived to complete his work, and died on the 28th of
November, 1859. Washington Irving never married. He had loved in his
early years a daughter of his friend Mrs. Hoffman, had sat by her death-bed
when she was a girl of seventeen, and waited until his own death restored
her to him.

H.M.

HISTORY OF NEW YORK
BOOK IV. (continued.)
CHAPTER VI.

Next to his projects for the suppression of poverty may be classed those of
William the Testy for increasing the wealth of New Amsterdam. Solomon of
whose character for wisdom the little governor was somewhat emulous, had
made gold and silver as plenty as the stones in the streets of Jerusalem.
William Kieft could not pretend to vie with him as to the precious metals,
but he determined, as an equivalent, to flood the streets of New Amsterdam
with Indian money. This was nothing more nor less than strings of beads
wrought out of clams, periwinkles, and other shell-fish, and called seawant
or wampum. These had formed a native currency among the simple
savages, who were content to take them of the Dutchmen in exchange for
peltries. In an unlucky moment, William the Testy, seeing this money of
easy production, conceived the project of making it the current coin of the
province. It is true it had an intrinsic value among the Indians, who used it
to ornament their robes and moccasins; but among the honest burghers it
had no more intrinsic value than those rags which form the paper currency
of modern days. This consideration, however, had no weight with William
Kieft. He began by paying all the servants of the company and all the debts
of government, in strings of wampum. He sent emissaries to sweep the
shores of Long Island, which was the Ophir of this modern Solomon, and
abounded in shell-fish. These were transported in loads to New Amsterdam,
coined into Indian money, and launched into circulation.
And now for a time affairs went on swimmingly; money became as
plentiful as in the modern days of paper currency, and, to use the popular
phrase, "a wonderful impulse was given to public prosperity." Yankee
traders poured into the province, buying everything they could lay their
hands on, and paying the worthy Dutchmen their own price—in Indian

money. If the latter, however, attempted to pay the Yankees in the same coin
for their tinware and wooden bowls the case was altered; nothing would do
but Dutch guilders, and such-like "metallic currency." What was worse, the
Yankees introduced an inferior kind of wampum, made of oyster shells,
with which they deluged the province, carrying off all the silver and gold,
the Dutch herrings and Dutch cheeses: thus early did the knowing men of
the East manifest their skill in bargaining the New Amsterdammers out of
the oyster, and leaving them the shell.[36]
It was a long time before William the Testy was made sensible how
completely his grand project of finance was turned against him by his
eastern neighbors; nor would he probably have ever found it out had not
tidings been brought him that the Yankees had made a descent upon Long
Island, and had established a kind of mint at Oyster Bay, where they were
coining up all the oyster banks.
Now this was making a vital attack upon the province in a double sense,
financial and gastronomical. Ever since the council dinner of Oloffe the
Dreamer, at the founding of New Amsterdam, at which banquet the oyster
figured so conspicuously, this divine shell-fish has been held in a kind of
superstitious reverence at the Manhattoes; as witness the temples erected to
its cult in every street and lane and alley. In fact, it is the standard luxury of
the place, as is the terrapin at Philadelphia, the soft crab at Baltimore, or the
canvas-back at Washington.
The seizure of Oyster Bay, therefore, was an outrage not merely on the
pockets, but on the larders of the New Amsterdammers; the whole
community was aroused, and an oyster crusade was immediately set on foot
against the Yankees. Every stout trencherman hastened to the standard; nay,
some of the most corpulent burgomasters and schepens joined the
expedition as a corps de reserve, only to be called into action when the
sacking commenced.
The conduct of the expedition was entrusted to a valiant Dutchman, who,
for size and weight, might have matched with Colbrand, the Danish
champion, slain by Guy of Warwick. He was famous throughout the
province for strength of arm and skill at quarter-staff, and hence was named

Stoffel Brinkerhoff; or rather, Brinkerhoofd; that is to say, Stoffel the Head-
breaker.
This sturdy commander, who was a man of few words but vigorous deeds,
led his troops resolutely on through Nineveh, and Babylon, and Jericho, and
Patch-hog, and other Long Island towns, without encountering any
difficulty of note, though it is said that some of the burgomasters gave out
at Hard-scramble Hill and Hungry Hollow; and that others lost heart, and
turned back at Puss-panick. With the rest he made good his march until he
arrived in the neighborhood of Oyster Bay.
Here he was encountered by a host of Yankee warriors, headed by
Preserved Fish, and Habakkuk Nutter, and Return Strong, and Zerubbabel
Fisk, and Determined Cock! at the sound of whose names Stoffel
Brinkerhoff verily believed the whole parliament of Praise-God Barebones
had been let loose upon him. He soon found, however, that they were
merely the "select men" of the settlement, armed with no weapon but the
tongue, and disposed only to meet him on the field of argument. Stoffel had
but one mode of arguing—that was with the cudgel; but he used it with such
effect that he routed his antagonists, broke up the settlement, and would
have driven the inhabitants into the sea, if they had not managed to escape
across the Sound to the mainland by the Devil's Stepping-stones, which
remain to this day monuments of this great Dutch victory over the Yankees.
Stoffel Brinkerhoff made great spoil of oysters and clams, coined and
uncoined, and then set out on his return to the Manhattoes. A grand triumph,
after the manner of the ancients, was prepared for him by William the Testy.
He entered New Amsterdam as a conqueror, mounted on a Narraganset
pacer. Five dried codfish on poles, standards taken from the enemy, were
borne before him; and an immense store of oysters and clams,
Weathersfield onions, and Yankee "notions" formed the spolia opima; while
several coiners of oyster-shells were led captive to grace the hero's triumph.
The procession was accompanied by a full band of boys and negroes,
performing on the popular instruments of rattle-bones and clam-shells,
while Anthony Van Corlear sounded his trumpet from the ramparts.
A great banquet was served up in the Stadthouse from the clams and oysters
taken from the enemy, while the governor sent the shells privately to the

mint, and had them coined into Indian money, with which he paid his
troops.
It is moreover said that the governor, calling to mind the practice among the
ancients to honor their victorious generals with public statues, passed a
magnanimous decree, by which every tavern-keeper was permitted to paint
the head of Stoffel Brinkerhoff upon his sign!
FOOTNOTES:
[36]
In a manuscript record of the province, dated 1659, Library of the
New York Historical Society, is the following mention of Indian
money:—"Seawant, alias wampum. Beads manufactured from the
Quahang or whelk, a shell-fish formerly abounding on our coasts,
but lately of more rare occurrence of two colors, black and white;
the former twice the value of the latter. Six beads of the white and
three of the black for an English penny. The seawant depreciates
from time to time. The New England people make use of it as a
means of barter, not only to carry away the best cargoes which we
send thither, but to accumulate a large quantity of beavers' and
other furs, by which the company is defrauded of her revenues,
and the merchants disappointed in making returns with that speed
with which they might wish to meet their engagements; while
their commissioners and the inhabitants remain overstocked with
seawant, a sort of currency of no value except with the New
Netherland savages," etc.

CHAPTER VII.

It has been remarked by the observant writer of the Stuyvesant manuscript,
that under the administration of William Kieft the disposition of the
inhabitants of New Amsterdam experienced an essential change, so that
they became very meddlesome and factious. The unfortunate propensity of
the little governor to experiment and innovation, and the frequent

exacerbations of his temper, kept his council in a continual worry; and the
council being to the people at large what yeast or leaven is to a batch, they
threw the whole community in a ferment; and the people at large being to
the city what the mind is to the body, the unhappy commotions they
underwent operated most disastrously upon New Amsterdam; insomuch
that, in certain of their paroxysms of consternation and perplexity, they
begat several of the most crooked, distorted, and abominable streets, lanes,
and alleys, with which this metropolis is disfigured.
The fact was, that about this time the community, like Balaam's ass, began
to grow more enlightened than its rider, and to show a disposition for what
is called "self-government." This restive propensity was first evinced in
certain popular meetings, in which the burghers of New Amsterdam met to
talk and smoke over the complicated affairs of the province, gradually
obfuscating themselves with politics and tobacco smoke. Hither resorted
those idlers and squires of low degree who hang loose on society and are
blown about by every wind of doctrine. Cobblers abandoned their stalls to
give lessons on political economy; blacksmiths suffered their fires to go out,
while they stirred up the fires of faction; and even tailors, though said to be
the ninth parts of humanity, neglected their own measures to criticise the
measures of government.
Strange! that the science of government, which seems to be so generally
understood, should invariably be denied to the only one called upon to
exercise it. Not one of the politicians in question, but, take his word for it,
could have administered affairs ten times better than William the Testy.
Under the instructions of these political oracles, the good people of New
Amsterdam soon became exceedingly enlightened; and, as a matter of
course, exceedingly discontented. They gradually found out the fearful error
in which they had indulged, of thinking themselves the happiest people in
creation; and were convinced that, all circumstances to the contrary not
withstanding, they were a very unhappy, deluded, and consequently ruined
people!
We are naturally prone to discontent, and avaricious after imaginary causes
of lamentation. Like lubberly monks, we belabor our own shoulders, and
take a vast satisfaction in the music of our own groans. Nor is this said by

way of paradox; daily experience shows the truth of these observations. It is
almost impossible to elevate the spirits of a man groaning under ideal
calamities; but nothing is easier than to render him wretched, though on the
pinnacle of felicity: as it would be an herculean task to hoist a man to the
top of a steeple, though the merest child could topple him off thence.
I must not omit to mention that these popular meetings were generally held
at some noted tavern; these public edifices possessing what in modern times
are thought the true fountains of political inspiration. The ancient Germans
deliberated upon a matter when drunk, and reconsidered it when sober. Mob
politicians in modern times dislike to have two minds upon a subject, so
they both deliberate and act when drunk; by this means a world of delay is
spared; and as it is universally allowed that a man when drunk sees double,
it follows conclusively that he sees twice as well as his sober neighbors.

CHAPTER VIII.

Wilhelmus Kieft, as has already been observed, was a great legislator on a
small scale, and had a microscopic eye in public affairs. He had been
greatly annoyed by the facetious meetings of the good people of New
Amsterdam, but observing that on these occasions the pipe was ever in their
mouth, he began to think that the pipe was at the bottom of the affair, and
that there was some mysterious affinity between politics and tobacco
smoke. Determined to strike at the root of the evil, he began forthwith to
rail at tobacco as a noxious, nauseous weed, filthy in all its uses; and as to
smoking, he denounced it as a heavy tax upon the public pocket, a vast
consumer of time, a great encourager of idleness, and a deadly bane to the
prosperity and morals of the people. Finally, he issued an edict, prohibiting
the smoking of tobacco throughout the New Netherlands. Ill-fated Kieft!
Had he lived in the present age, and attempted to check the unbounded
license of the press, he could not have struck more sorely upon the
sensibilities of the million. The pipe, in fact, was the great organ of
reflection and deliberation of the New Netherlander. It was his constant
companion and solace—was he gay, he smoked: was he sad, he smoked; his
pipe was never out of his mouth; it was a part of his physiognomy; without

it, his best friends would not know him. Take away his pipe? You might as
well take away his nose!
The immediate effect of the edict of William the Testy was a popular
commotion. A vast multitude, armed with pipes and tobacco-boxes, and an
immense supply of ammunition, sat themselves down before the governor's
house, and fell to smoking with tremendous violence. The testy William
issued forth like a wrathful spider, demanding the reason of this lawless
fumigation. The sturdy rioters replied by lolling back in their seats, and
puffing away with redoubled fury, raising such a murky cloud that the
governor was fain to take refuge in the interior of his castle.
A long negotiation ensued through the medium of Anthony the Trumpeter.
The governor was at first wrathful and unyielding, but was gradually
smoked into terms. He concluded by permitting the smoking of tobacco, but
he abolished the fair long pipes used in the days of Wouter Van Twiller,
denoting ease, tranquillity, and sobriety of deportment; these he condemned
as incompatible with the despatch of business; in place whereof he
substituted little captious short pipes, two inches in length, which, he
observed, could be stuck in one corner of the mouth, or twisted in the
hatband, and would never be in the way. Thus ended this alarming
insurrection, which was long known by the name of the Pipe Plot, and
which, it has been somewhat quaintly observed, did end, like most plots and
seditions, in mere smoke.
But mark, O reader! the deplorable evils which did afterward result. The
smoke of these villainous little pipes, continually ascending in a cloud
about the nose, penetrated into and befogged the cerebellum, dried up all
the kindly moisture of the brain, and rendered the people who used them as
vaporish and testy as the governor himself. Nay, what is worse, from being
goodly, burly, sleek-conditioned men, they became, like our Dutch
yeomanry who smoke short pipes, a lantern-jawed, smoke-dried, leather-
hided race.
Nor was this all. From this fatal schism in tobacco pipes we may date the
rise of parties in the Nieuw Nederlandts. The rich and self-important
burghers who had made their fortunes, and could afford to be lazy, adhered
to the ancient fashion, and formed a kind of aristocracy known as the Long

Pipes; while the lower order, adopting the reform of William Kieft as more
convenient in their handicraft employments, were branded with the plebeian
name of Short Pipes.
A third party sprang up, headed by the descendants of Robert Chewit, the
companion of the great Hudson. These discarded pipes altogether, and took
up chewing tobacco; hence they were called Quids; an appellation since
given to those political mongrels which sometimes spring up between two
great parties, as a mule is produced between a horse and an ass.
And here I would note the great benefit of party distinctions in saving the
people at large the trouble of thinking. Hesiod divides mankind into three
classes—those who think for themselves, those who think as others think,
and those who do not think at all. The second class comprises the great
mass of society; for most people require a set creed and a file-leader. Hence
the origin of party, which means a large body of people, some few of whom
think, and all the rest talk. The former take the lead and discipline the latter,
prescribing what they must say, what they must approve, what they must
hoot at, whom they must support, but, above all, whom they must hate; for
no one can be a right good partisan who is not a thoroughgoing hater.
The enlightened inhabitants of the Manhattoes, therefore, being divided into
parties, were enabled to hate each other with great accuracy. And now the
great business of politics went bravely on, the Long Pipes and Short Pipes
assemblings in separate beer-houses, and smoking at each other with
implacable vehemence, to the great support of the state and profit of the
tavern-keepers. Some, indeed, went so far as to bespatter their adversaries
with those odoriferous little words which smell so strong in the Dutch
language; believing, like true politicians, that they served their party and
glorified themselves in proportion as they bewrayed their neighbors. But,
however they might differ among themselves, all parties agreed in abusing
the governor, seeing that he was not a governor of their choice, but
appointed by others to rule over them.
Unhappy William Kieft! exclaims the sage writer of the Stuyvesant
manuscript, doomed to contend with enemies too knowing to be entrapped,
and to reign over a people too wise to be governed. All his foreign
expeditions were baffled and set at naught by the all-pervading Yankees; all

his home measures were canvassed and condemned by "numerous and
respectable meetings" of pot-house politicians.
In the multitude of counsellors, we are told, there is safety; but the
multitude of counsellors was a continual source of perplexity to William
Kieft. With a temperament as hot as an old radish, and a mind subject to
perpetual whirlwinds and tornadoes, he never failed to get into a passion
with every one who undertook to advise him. I have observed, however,
that your passionate little men, like small boats with large sails, are easily
upset or blown out of their course; so was it with William the Testy, who
was prone to be carried away by the last piece of advice blown into his ear.
The consequence was that though a projector of the first class, yet, by
continually changing his projects, he gave none a fair trial; and by
endeavoring to do everything, he, in sober truth, did nothing.
In the meantime the sovereign people, having got into the saddle, showed
themselves, as usual, unmerciful riders; spurring on the little governor with
harangues and petitions, and thwarting him with memorials and reproaches,
in much the same way as holiday apprentices manage an unlucky devil of a
hack-horse; so that Wilhelmus Kieft was kept at a worry or a gallop
throughout the whole of his administration.

CHAPTER IX.

If we could but get a peep at the tally of Dame Fortune, where like a
vigilant landlady she chalks up the debtor and creditor accounts of
thoughtless mortals, we should find that every good is checked off by an
evil; and that however we may apparently revel scot-free for a season, the
time will come when we must ruefully pay off the reckoning. Fortune, in
fact, is a pestilent shrew, and, withal, an inexorable creditor; and though for
a time she may be all smiles and courtesies, and indulge us in long credits,
yet sooner or later she brings up her arrears with a vengeance, and washes
out her scores with our tears. "Since," says good old Boethius, "no man can
retain her at his pleasure, what are her favors but sure prognostications of
approaching trouble and calamity?"

This is the fundamental maxim of that sage school of philosophers, the
Croakers, who esteem it true wisdom to doubt and despond when other men
rejoice, well knowing that happiness is at best but transient; that the higher
one is elevated on the see-saw balance of fortune, the lower must be his
subsequent depression; that he who is on the uppermost round of a ladder
has most to suffer from a fall, while he who is at the bottom runs very little
risk of breaking his neck by tumbling to the top.
Philosophical readers of this stamp must have doubtless indulged in dismal
forebodings all through the tranquil reign of Walter the Doubter, and
considered it what Dutch seamen call a weather-breeder. They will not be
surprised, therefore, that the foul weather which gathered during his days
should now be rattling from all quarters on the head of William the Testy.
The origin of some of these troubles may be traced quite back to the
discoveries and annexations of Hans Reinier Oothout, the explorer, and
Wynant Ten Breeches, the land-measurer, made in the twilight days of
Oloffe the Dreamer, by which the territories of the Nieuw Nederlandts were
carried far to the south, to Delaware River and parts beyond. The
consequence was many disputes and brawls with the Indians, which now
and then reached the drowsy ears of Walter the Doubter and his council,
like the muttering of distant thunder from behind the mountains, without,
however, disturbing their repose. It was not till the time of William the
Testy that the thunderbolt reached the Manhattoes. While the little governor
was diligently protecting his eastern boundaries from the Yankees, word
was brought him of the irruption of a vagrant colony of Swedes in the
South, who had landed on the banks of the Delaware, and displayed the
banner of that redoubtable virago Queen Christina, and taken possession of
the country in her name. These had been guided in their expedition by one
Peter Minuits or Minnewits, a renegade Dutchman, formerly in the service
of their High Mightinesses; but who now declared himself governor of all
the surrounding country, to which was given the name of the province of
New Sweden.
It is an old saying, that "a little pot is soon hot," which was the case with
William the Testy. Being a little man, he was soon in a passion, and once in
a passion he soon boiled over. Summoning his council on the receipt of this
news, he belabored the Swedes in the longest speech that had been heard in

the colony since the wordy warfare of Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches.
Having thus taken off the fire-edge of his valor, he resorted to his favorite
measure of proclamation, and despatched a document of the kind, ordering
the renegade Minnewits and his gang of Swedish vagabonds to leave the
country immediately, under pain of vengeance of their High Mightinesses
the Lords States General, and of the potentates of the Manhattoes.
This strong measure was not a whit more effectual than its predecessors
which had been thundered against the Yankees, and William Kieft was
preparing to follow it up with something still more formidable, when he
received intelligence of other invaders on his southern frontier, who had
taken possession of the banks of the Schuylkill, and built a fort there. They
were represented as a gigantic, gunpowder race of men, exceedingly expert
at boxing, biting, gouging, and other branches of the rough-and-tumble
mode of warfare, which they had learned from their prototypes and cousins-
german the Virginians, to whom they have ever borne considerable
resemblance. Like them, too, they were great roisterers, much given to revel
on hoe-cake and bacon, mint-julep and apple toddy; whence their newly
formed colony had already acquired the name of Merryland, which, with a
slight modification, it retains to the present day.
In fact, the Merrylanders and their cousins, the Virginians, were represented
to William Kieft as offsets from the same original stock as his bitter
enemies the Yanokie, or Yankee, tribes of the east; having both come over
to this country for the liberty of conscience, or, in other words, to live as
they pleased; the Yankees taking to praying and money-making and
converting Quakers, and the Southerners to horse-racing and cock-fighting
and breeding negroes.
Against these new invaders Wilhelmus Kieft immediately despatched a
naval armament of two sloops and thirty men, under Jan Jansen Alpendam,
who was armed to the very teeth with one of the little governor's most
powerful speeches, written in vigorous Low Dutch.
Admiral Alpendam arrived without accident in the Schuylkill, and came
upon the enemy just as they were engaged in a great "barbecue," a king of
festivity or carouse much practised in Merryland. Opening upon them with
the speech of William the Testy, he denounced them as a pack of lazy,

canting, julep-tippling, cock-fighting, horse-racing, slave-driving, tavern-
haunting, Sabbath-breaking, mulatto-breeding upstarts: and concluded by
ordering them to evacuate the country immediately; to which they
laconically replied in plain English, "They'd see him d——d first!"
Now this was a reply on which neither Jan Jansen Alpendam nor Wilhelmus
Kieft had made any calculation. Finding himself, therefore, totally
unprepared to answer so terrible a rebuff with suitable hostility, the admiral
concluded his wisest course would be to return home and report progress.
He accordingly steered his course back to New Amsterdam, where he
arrived safe, having accomplished this hazardous enterprise at small
expense of treasure, and no loss of life. His saving policy gained him the
universal appellation of the Savior of his Country, and his services were
suitably rewarded by a shingle monument, erected by subscription on the
top of Flattenbarrack Hill, where it immortalized his name for three whole
years, when it fell to pieces and was burnt for firewood.

CHAPTER X.

About this time, the testy little governor of the New Netherlands appears to
have had his hands full, and with one annoyance and the other to have been
kept continually on the bounce. He was on the very point of following up
the expedition of Jan Jansen Alpendam by some belligerent measures
against the marauders of Merryland, when his attention was suddenly called
away by belligerent troubles springing up in another quarter, the seeds of
which had been sown in the tranquil days of Walter the Doubter.
The reader will recollect the deep doubt into which that most pacific
governor was thrown on Killian Van Rensellaer's taking possession of
Bearn Island by wapen recht. While the governor doubted and did nothing,
the lordly Killian went on to complete his sturdy little castellum of
Rensellaersteen, and to garrison it with a number of his tenants from the
Helderberg, a mountain region famous for the hardest heads and hardest
fists in the province. Nicholas Koorn, a faithful squire of the patroon,
accustomed to strut at his heels, wear his cast-off clothes, and imitate his

lofty bearing, was established in this post as wacht-meester. His duty it was
to keep an eye on the river, and oblige every vessel that passed, unless on
the service of their High Mightinesses, to strike its flag, lower its peak, and
pay toll to the Lord of Rensellaersteen.
This assumption of sovereign authority within the territories of the Lords
States General, however it might have been tolerated by Walter the Doubter,
had been sharply contested by William the Testy, on coming into office and
many written remonstrances had been addressed by him to Killian Van
Rensellaer, to which the latter never deigned a reply. Thus by degrees a sore
place, or, in Hibernian parlance, a raw, had been established in the irritable
soul of the little governor, insomuch that he winced at the very name of
Rensellaersteen.
Now it came to pass that, on a fine sunny day, the company's yacht, the Half
Moon, having been on one of its stated visits to Fort Aurania, was quietly
tiding it down the Hudson; the commander, Govert Lockerman, a veteran
Dutch skipper of few words but great bottom, was seated on the high poop,
quietly smoking his pipe, under the shadow of the proud flag of Orange,
when, on arriving abreast of Bearn Island, he was saluted by a stentorian
voice from the shore, "Lower thy flag, and be d——d to thee!"
Govert Lockerman, without taking his pipe out of his mouth, turned up his
eye from under his broad-brimmed hat to see who hailed him thus
discourteously. There, on the ramparts of the forts, stood Nicholas Koorn,
armed to the teeth, flourishing a brass-hilted sword, while a steeple-
crowned hat and cock's tail-feather, formerly worn by Killian Van
Rensellaer himself, gave an inexpressible loftiness to his demeanor.
Govert Lockerman eyed the warrior from top to toe, but was not to be
dismayed. Taking the pipe slowly out of his mouth, "To whom should I
lower my flag?" demanded he. "To the high and mighty Killian Van
Rensellaer, the lord of Rensellaersteen!" was the reply.
"I lower it to none but the Prince Orange and my masters, the Lords States
General." So saying, he resumed his pipe and smoked with an air of dogged
determination.

Bang! went a gun from the fortress; the ball cut both sail and rigging.
Govert Lockerman said nothing, but smoked the more doggedly.
Bang! went another gun; the shot whistling close astern.
"Fire, and be d——d," cried Govert Lockerman, cramming a new charge of
tobacco into his pipe, and smoking with still increasing vehemence.
Bang! went a third gun. The shot passed over his head, tearing a hole in the
"princely flag of Orange."
This was the hardest trial of all for the pride and patience of Govert
Lockerman; he maintained a stubborn though swelling silence, but his
smothered rage might be perceived by the short vehement puffs of smoke
emitted from his pipe, by which he might be tracked for miles, as he slowly
floated out of shot and out of sight of Bearn Island. In fact, he never gave
vent to his passion until he got fairly among the Highlands of the Hudson,
when he let fly whole volleys of Dutch oaths, which are said to linger to
this very day among the echoes of the Dunderberg, and to give particular
effect to the thunder-storms in that neighborhood.
It was the sudden apparition of Govert Lockerman at Dog's Misery, bearing
in his hand the tattered flag of Orange, that arrested the attention of William
the Testy, just as he was devising a new expedition against the marauders of
Merryland. I will not pretend to describe the passion of the little man when
he heard of the outrage of Rensellaersteen. Suffice it to say, in the first
transports of his fury, he turned Dog's Misery topsy-turvy, kicked every cur
out of doors, and threw the cats out of the window; after which, his spleen
being in some measure relieved, he went into a council of war with Govert
Lockerman, the skipper, assisted by Anthony Van Corlear, the trumpeter.

CHAPTER XI.

The eyes of all New Amsterdam were now turned to see what would be the
end of this direful feud between William the Testy and the patron of
Rensellaerwick; and some, observing the consultations of the governor with

the skipper and the trumpeter, predicted warlike measures by sea and land.
The wrath of William Kieft, however, though quick to rise, was quick to
evaporate. He was a perfect brush-heap in a blaze, snapping and crackling
for a time, and then ending in smoke. Like many other valiant potentates,
his first thoughts were all for war, his sober second thoughts for diplomacy.
Accordingly Govert Lockerman was once more despatched up the river in
the company's yacht, the Goed Hoop, bearing Anthony the Trumpeter as
ambassador, to treat with the belligerent powers of Rensellaersteen. In the
fulness of time the yacht arrived before Bearn Island, and Anthony the
Trumpeter, mounting the poop, sounded a parly to the forces. In a little
while the steeple-crowned hat of Nicholas Koorn, the wacht-meester, rose
above the battlements, followed by his iron visage, and ultimately his whole
person, armed, as before, to the very teeth; while one by one a whole row of
Helderbergers reared their round burly heads above the wall, and beside
each pumpkin-head peered the end of a rusty musket. Nothing daunted by
this formidable array, Anthony Van Corlear drew forth and read with
audible voice a missive from William the Testy, protesting against the
usurpation of Bearn Island, and ordering the garrison to quit the premises,
bag and baggage, on pain of the vengeance of the potentate of the
Manhattoes.
In reply, the wacht-meester applied the thumb of his right hand to the end of
his nose, and the thumb of the left hand to the little finger of the right, and
spreading each hand like a fan, made an aerial flourish with his fingers.
Anthony Van Corlear was sorely perplexed to understand this sign, which
seemed to him something mysterious and masonic. Not liking to betray his
ignorance, he again read with a loud voice the missive of William the Testy,
and again Nicholas Koorn applied the thumb of his right hand to the end of
his nose, and the thumb of his left hand to the little finger of the right, and
repeated this kind of nasal weathercock. Anthony Van Corlear now
persuaded himself that this was some short-hand sign or symbol, current in
diplomacy, which, though unintelligible to a new diplomat like himself,
would speak volumes to the experienced intellect of William the Testy.
Considering his embassy therefore at an end, he sounded his trumpet with
great complacency, and set sail on his return down the river, every now and
then practising this mysterious sign of the wacht-meester, to keep it
accurately in mind.

Arrived at New Amsterdam, he made a faithful report of his embassy to the
governor, accompanied by a manual exhibition of the response of Nicholas
Koorn. The governor was equally perplexed with his ambassador. He was
deeply versed in the mysteries of freemasonry, but they threw no light on
the matter. He knew ever variety of windmill and weathercock, but was not
a whit the wiser as to the aerial sign in question. He had even dabbled in
Egyptian hieroglyphics, and the mystic symbols of the obelisk, but none
furnished a key to the reply of Nicholas Koorn. He called a meeting of his
council. Anthony Van Corlear stood forth in the midst, and putting the
thumb of his right hand to his nose, and the thumb of his left hand to the
finger of the right, he gave a faithful fac-simile of the portentous sign.
Having a nose of unusual dimensions, it was as if the reply had been put in
capitals, but all in vain, the worthy burgomasters were equally perplexed
with the governor. Each one put his thumb to the end of his nose, spread his
fingers like a fan, imitated the motion of Anthony Van Corlear, then smoked
on in dubious silence. Several times was Anthony obliged to stand forth like
a fugleman and repeat the sign, and each time a circle of nasal
weathercocks might be seen in the council chamber.
Perplexed in the extreme, William the Testy sent for all the soothsayers and
fortune tellers and wise men of the Manhattoes, but none could interpret the
mysterious reply of Nicholas Koorn. The council broke up in sore
perplexity. The matter got abroad; Anthony Van Corlear was stopped at
every corner to repeat the signal to a knot of anxious newsmongers, each of
whom departed with his thumb to his nose and his fingers in the air, to carry
the story home of his family. For several days all business was neglected in
New Amsterdam; nothing was talked of but the diplomatic mission of
Anthony the Trumpeter, nothing was to be seen but knots of politicians with
their thumbs to their noses. In the meantime the fierce feud between
William the Testy and Killian Van Rensellaer, which at first had menaced
deadly warfare, gradually cooled off, like many other war questions, in the
prolonged delays of diplomacy.
Still, to this early affair of Rensellaersteen may be traced the remote origin
of those windy wars in modern days which rage in the bowels of the
Helderberg, and have well nigh shaken the great patroonship of the Van
Rensellaers to its foundation: for we are told that the bully boys of the
Helderberg, who served under Nicholas Koorn, the wacht-meester, carried

back to their mountains the hieroglyphic sign which had so sorely puzzled
Anthony Van Corlear and the sages of the Manhattoes; so that to the present
day, the thumb to the nose and the fingers in the air is apt to be the reply of
the Helderbergers whenever called upon for any long arrears of rent.

CHAPTER XII.

It was asserted by the wise men of ancient times who had a nearer
opportunity of ascertaining the fact, that at the gate of Jupiter's palace lay
two huge tuns, one filled with blessings, the other with misfortunes; and it
would verily seem as if the latter had been completely overturned, and left
to deluge the unlucky province of Nieuw Nederlandts; for about this time,
while harassed and annoyed from the south and the north, incessant forays
were made by the border chivalry of Connecticut upon the pig-sties and
hen-roosts of the Nederlanders. Every day or two some broad-bottomed
express rider, covered with mud and mire, would come floundering into the
gate of New Amsterdam, freighted with some new tale of aggression from
the frontier; whereupon Anthony Van Corlear, seizing his trumpet, the only
substitute for a newspaper in those primitive days, would sound the tidings
from the ramparts with such doleful notes and disastrous cadence, as to
throw half the old women in the city into hysterics; all which tended greatly
to increase his popularity, there being nothing for which the public are more
grateful than being frequently treated to a panic—a secret well known to
modern editors.
But oh, ye powers! into what a paroxysm of passion did each new outrage
of the Yankees throw the choleric little governor! Letter after letter, protest
after protest, bad Latin, worse English, and hideous Low Dutch, were
incessantly fulminated upon them, and the four-and-twenty letters of the
alphabet, which formed his standing army, were worn out by constant
campaigning. All, however, was ineffectual; even the recent victory at
Oyster Bay, which had shed such a gleam of sunshine between the clouds of
his foul weather reign, was soon followed by a more fearful gathering up of
those clouds and indications of more portentous tempests; for the Yankee
tribe on the banks of the Connecticut, finding on this memorable occasion

their incompetency to cope in fair fight with the sturdy chivalry of the
Manhattoes, had called to their aid all the ten tribes of their brethren who
inhabit the east country, which from them has derived the name of Yankee
land. This call was promptly responded to. The consequence was a great
confederacy of the tribes of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Plymouth,
and New Haven, under the title of the "United Colonies of New England;"
the pretended object of which was mutual defense against the savages, but
the real object the subjugation of the Nieuw Nederlandts.
For, to let the reader into one of the greatest secrets of history, the Nieuw
Nederlandts had long been regarded by the whole Yankee race as the
modern land of promise, and themselves as the chosen and peculiar people
destined, one day or other, by hook or by crook, to get possession of it. In
truth, they are a wonderful and all-prevalent people; of that class who only
require an inch to gain an ell; or a halter to gain a horse. From the time they
first gained a foothold on Plymouth Rock, they began to migrate,
progressing and progressing from place to place, and land to land, making a
little here and a little there, and controverting the old proverb, that a rolling
stone gathers no moss. Hence they have facetiously received the nickname
of "The Pilgrims," that is to say, a people who are always seeking a better
country than their own.
The tidings of this great Yankee league struck William Kieft with dismay,
and for once in his life he forgot to bounce on receiving a disagreeable
piece of intelligence. In fact, on turning over in his mind all that he had read
at the Hague about leagues and combinations, he found that this was a
counterpart of the Amphictyonic League, by which the states of Greece
attained such power and supremacy; and the very idea made his heart quake
for the safety of his empire at the Manhattoes.
The affairs of the confederacy were managed by an annual council of
delegates held at Boston, which Kieft denominated the Delphos of this truly
classic league. The very first meeting gave evidence of hostility to the New
Nederlanders, who were charged, in their dealings with the Indians, with
carrying on a traffic in "guns, powther, and shott—a trade damnable and
injurious to the colonists." It is true the Connecticut traders were fain to
dabble a little in this damnable traffic; but then they always dealt in what

were termed Yankee guns, ingeniously calculated to burst in the pagan
hands which used them.
The rise of this potent confederacy was a death-blow to the glory of
William the Testy, for from that day forward he never held up his head, but
appeared quite crestfallen. It is true, as the grand council augmented in
power, and the league, rolling onward, gathered about the red hills of New
Haven, threatening to overwhelm the Nieuw Nederlandts, he continued
occasionally to fulminate proclamations and protests, as a shrewd sea
captain fires his guns into a water spout, but, alas! they had no more effect
than so many blank cartridges.
Thus end the authenticated chronicles of the reign of William the Testy, for
henceforth, in the troubles, perplexities, and confusion of the times, he
seems to have been totally overlooked, and to have slipped for ever through
the fingers of scrupulous history. It is a matter of deep concern that such
obscurity should hang over his latter days; for he was in truth a mighty and
great little man, and worthy of being utterly renowned, seeing that he was
the first potentate that introduced into this land the art of fighting by
proclamation, and defending a country by trumpeters and windmills.
It is true that certain of the early provincial poets, of whom there were great
numbers in the Nieuw Nederlandts, taking advantage of his mysterious exit,
have fabled that, like Romulus, he was translated to the skies, and forms a
very fiery little star, somewhere on the left claw of the crab; while others,
equally fanciful, declare that he had experienced a fate similar to that of the
good King Arthur, who, we are assured by ancient bards, was carried away
to the delicious abodes of fairyland, where he still exists in pristine worth
and vigor, and will one day or another return to restore the gallantry, the
honor, and the immaculate probity, which prevailed in the glorious days of
the Round Table.[37]
All these, however, are but pleasing fantasies, the cobweb visions of those
dreaming varlets the poets, to which I would not have my judicious reader
attach any credibility. Neither am I disposed to credit an ancient and rather
apocryphal historian, who asserts that the ingenious Wilhelmus was
annihilated by the blowing down of one of his windmills, nor a writer of
later times, who affirms that he fell a victim to an experiment in natural

history, having the misfortune to break his neck from a garret window of
the stadthouse in attempting to catch swallows by sprinkling salt upon their
tails. Still less do I put my faith in the tradition that he perished at sea in
conveying home to Holland a treasure of golden ore, discovered somewhere
among the haunted regions of the Catskill mountains.[38]
The most probable account declares, that what with the constant troubles on
his frontiers—the incessant schemings and projects going on in his own
pericranium—the memorials, petitions, remonstrances, and sage pieces of
advice of respectable meetings of the sovereign people, and the refractory
disposition of his councillors, who were sure to differ from him on every
point, and uniformly to be in the wrong—his mind was kept in a furnace
heat, until he became as completely burnt out as a Dutch family pipe which
has passed through three generations of hard smokers. In this manner did he
undergo a kind of animal combustion consuming away like a farthing
rushlight, so that when grim Death finally snuffed him out, there was
scarcely left enough of him to bury!
FOOTNOTES:
[37]
"The old Welsh bards believed that King Arthur was not dead, but
carried awaie by the fairies into some pleasant place, where he
sholde remaine for a time, and then returne againe and reigne in
as great authority as ever."—Holinshed.
"The Britons suppose that he shall come yet and conquere all
Britaigne; for, certes, this is the prophicye of Merlyn—He say'd
that his deth shall be doubteous; and said soth, for men thereof yet
have doubte and shullen for evermore, for men wyt not whether
that he lyveth or is dede."—De Leew Chron.

[38]
Diedrich Knickerbocker, in his scrupulous search after truth, is
sometimes too fastidious in regard to facts which border a little on
the marvelous. The story of the golden ore rests on something
better than mere tradition. The venerable Adrian Van der Donck,

Doctor of Laws, in his description of the New Netherlands,
asserts it from his own observation as an eye-witness. He was
present, he says, in 1645, at a treaty between Governor Kieft and
the Mohawk Indians, in which one of the latter, in painting
himself for the ceremony, used a pigment, the weight and shining
appearance of which excited the curiosity of the governor and
Mynheer Van der Donck. They obtained a lump and gave it to be
proved by a skillful doctor of medicine, Johannes de la Montagne,
one of the councillors of the New Netherlands. It was put into a
crucible, and yielded two pieces of gold worth about three
guilders. All this, continues Adrian Van der Donck, was kept
secret. As soon as peace was made with the Mohawks, an officer
and a few men were sent to the mountain, in the region of the
Kaatskill, under the guidance of an Indian, to search for the
precious mineral. They brought back a bucketful of ore, which,
being submitted to the crucible, proved as productive as the first.
William Kieft now thought the discovery certain. He sent a
confidential person, Arent Corsen, with a bagful of the mineral to
New Haven, to take passage in an English ship for England,
thence to proceed to Holland. The vessel sailed at Christmas, but
never reached her port. All on board perished.[A]
In the year 1647, Wilhelmus Kieft himself embarked on board the
Princess, taking with him specimens of the supposed mineral.
The ship was never heard of more!
Some have supposed that the mineral in question was not gold,
but pyrites; but we have the assertion of Adrian Van der Donck,
an eye-witness, and the experiment of Johannes de la Montagne, a
learned doctor of medicine, on the golden side of the question.
Cornelius Van Tienhooven, also, at that time secretary of the New
Netherlands, declared, in Holland, that he had tested several
specimens of the mineral, which proved satisfactory. It would
appear, however, that these golden treasures of the Kaatskill
always brought ill luck; as is evidenced in the fate of Arent
Corsen and Wilhelmus Kieft, and the wreck of the ships in which
they attempted to convey the treasure across the ocean. The
golden mines have never since been explored, but remain among

the mysteries of the Kaatskill mountains, and under the protection
of the goblins which haunt them.

[A]
See Van der Donck's description of the New Netherlands, Collect.
New York Hist. Society, vol. i., p. 161.

BOOK V.
CONTAINING THE FIRST PART OF THE REIGN OF PETER
STUYVESANT, AND HIS TROUBLES WITH THE AMPHICTYONIC
COUNCIL.

CHAPTER I.

To a profound philosopher like myself, who am apt to see clear through a
subject, where the penetration of ordinary people extends but half way,
there is no fact more simple and manifest than that the death of a great man
is a matter of very little importance. Much as we may think of ourselves,
and much as we may excite the empty plaudits of the million, it is certain
that the greatest among us do actually fill but an exceedingly small space in
the world; and it is equally certain, that even that small space is quickly
supplied when we leave it vacant. "Of what consequence is it," said Pliny,
"that individuals appear, or make their exit? the world is a theater whose
scenes and actors are continually changing." Never did philosopher speak
more correctly, and I only wonder that so wise a remark could have existed
so many ages, and mankind not have laid it more to heart. Sage follows on
in the footsteps of sage; one hero just steps out of his triumphal car, to make
way for the hero who comes after him; and of the proudest monarch it is
merely said that, "he slept with his fathers, and his successor reigned in his
stead."
The world, to tell the private truth, cares but little for their loss, and, if left
to itself, would soon forget to grieve; and though a nation has often been
figuratively drowned in tears on the death of a great man, yet it is ten to one
if an individual tear has been shed on the occasion, excepting from the
forlorn pen of some hungry author. It is the historian, the biographer, and
the poet, who have the whole burden of grief to sustain; who, kind souls!
like undertakers in England, act the part of chief mourners; who inflate a
nation with sighs it never heaved, and deluge it with tears it never dreamt of

shedding. Thus, while the patriotic author is weeping and howling in prose,
in blank verse, and in rhyme, and collecting the drops of public sorrow into
his volume, as into a lachrymal vase, it is more than probable his fellow-
citizens are eating and drinking, fiddling and dancing, as utterly ignorant of
the bitter lamentations made in their name as are those men of straw, John
Doe and Richard Roe, of the plaintiffs for whom they are generously
pleased to become sureties.
The most glorious hero that ever desolated nations might have mouldered
into oblivion among the rubbish of his own monument, did not some
historian take him into favor, and benevolently transmit his name to
posterity; and much as the valiant William Kieft worried, and bustled, and
turmoiled, while he had the destinies of a whole colony in his hand, I
question seriously whether he will not be obliged to this authentic history
for all his future celebrity.
His exit occasioned no convulsion in the city of New Amsterdam nor its
vicinity; the earth trembled not, neither did any stars shoot from their
spheres; the heavens were not shrouded in black, as poets would fain
persuade us they have been, on the death of a hero; the rocks (hard-hearted
varlets!) melted not into tears, nor did the trees hang their heads in silent
sorrow; and as to the sun, he lay abed the next night just as long, and
showed as jolly a face when he rose, as he ever did, on the same day of the
month in any year, either before or since. The good people of New
Amsterdam, one and all, declared that he had been a very busy, active,
bustling little governor; that he was "the father of his country;" that he was
"the noblest work of God;" that "he was a man, take him for all in all, they
ne'er should look upon his like again;" together with sundry other civil and
affectionate speeches, regularly said on the death of all great men; after
which they smoked their pipes, thought no more about him, and Peter
Stuyvesant succeeded to his station.
Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the renowned Wouter Van Twiller,
the best of our ancient Dutch governors; Wouter having surpassed all who
preceded him, and Pieter, or Piet, as he was sociably called by the old Dutch
burghers, who were ever prone to familiarize names, having never been
equalled by any successor. He was, in fact, the very man fitted by Nature to
retrieve the desperate fortunes of her beloved province, had not the Fates,

those most potent and unrelenting of all ancient spinsters, destined them to
inextricable confusion.
To say merely that he was a hero would be doing him great injustice; he
was, in truth, a combination of heroes; for he was of a sturdy, raw-boned
make, like Ajax Telamon, with a pair of round shoulders that Hercules
would have given his hide for (meaning his lion's hide) when he undertook
to ease old Atlas of his load. He was, moreover, as Plutarch describes
Coriolanus, not only terrible for the force of his arm, but likewise for his
voice, which sounded as though it came out of a barrel; and, like the self-
same warrior, he possessed a sovereign contempt for the sovereign people,
and an iron aspect, which was enough of itself to make the very bowels of
his adversaries quake with terror and dismay. All this martial excellency of
appearance was inexpressibly heightened by an accidental advantage, with
which I am surprised that neither Homer nor Virgil have graced any of their
heroes.
This was nothing less than a wooden leg, which was the only prize he had
gained in bravely fighting the battles of his country, but of which he was so
proud, that he was often heard to declare he valued it more than all his other
limbs put together; indeed, so highly did he esteem it, that he had it
gallantly enchased and relieved with silver devices, which caused it to be
related in divers histories and legends that he wore a silver leg.[39]
Like that choleric warrior Achilles, he was somewhat subject to extempore
bursts of passion, which were rather unpleasant to his favorites and
attendants, whose perceptions he was apt to quicken after the manner of his
illustrious imitator, Peter the Great, by anointing their shoulders with his
walking staff.
Though I cannot find that he had read Plato, or Aristotle, or Hobbes, or
Bacon, or Algernon Sydney, or Tom Paine, yet did he sometimes manifest a
shrewdness and sagacity in his measures that one would hardly expect from
a man who did not know Greek and had never studied the ancients. True it
is, and I confess it with sorrow, that he had an unreasonable aversion to
experiments, and was fond of governing his province after the simplest
manner; but then he contrived to keep it in better order than did the erudite
Kieft, though he had all the philosophers, ancient and modern, to assist and

perplex him. I must likewise own that he made but very few laws, but then
again he took care that those few were rigidly and impartially enforced; and
I do not know but justice, on the whole, was as well administered as if there
had been volumes of sage acts and statutes yearly made, and daily neglected
and forgotten.
He was, in fact, the very reverse of his predecessors, being neither tranquil
and inert, like Walter the Doubter, nor restless and fidgeting, like William
the Testy; but a man, or rather a governor, of such uncommon activity and
decision of mind, that he never sought nor accepted the advice of others,
depending bravely upon his single head, as would a hero of yore upon his
single arm, to carry him through all difficulties and dangers. To tell the
simple truth, he wanted nothing more to complete him as a statesman than
to think always right, for no one can say but that he always acted as he
thought. He was never a man to flinch when he found himself in a scrape,
but to dash forward through thick and thin, trusting, by hook or by crook, to
make all things straight in the end. In a word, he possessed in an eminent
degree that great quality in a statesman, called perseverance by the polite,
but nicknamed obstinacy by the vulgar. A wonderful salve for official
blunders; since he who perseveres in error without flinching gets the credit
of boldness and consistency, while he who wavers, in seeking to do what is
right, gets stigmatised as a trimmer. This much is certain, and it is a maxim
well worthy the attention of all legislators great and small, who stand
shaking in the wind, irresolute which way to steer, that a ruler who follows
his own will pleases himself, while he who seeks to satisfy the wishes and
whims of others runs great risk of pleasing nobody. There is nothing, too,
like putting down one's foot resolutely when in doubt, and letting things
take their course. The clock that stands still points right twice in the four-
and-twenty hours, while others may keep going continually, and be
continually going wrong.
Nor did this magnanimous quality escape the discernment of the good
people of Nieuw Nederlandts; on the contrary, so much were they struck
with the independent will and vigorous resolution displayed on all
occasions by their new governor, that they universally called him Hard
Koppig Piet, or Peter the Headstrong, a great compliment to the strength of
his understanding.

If, from all that I have said, thou dost not gather, worthy reader, that Peter
Stuyvesant was a tough, sturdy, valiant, weather-beaten, mettlesome,
obstinate, leathern-sided, lion-hearted, generous-spirited old governor,
either I have written to but little purpose, or thou art very dull at drawing
conclusions.
This most excellent governor commenced his administration on the 29th of
May, 1647; a remarkably stormy day, distinguished in all the almanacks of
the time which have come down to us by the name of "Windy Friday." As
he was very jealous of his personal and official dignity, he was inaugurated
into office with great ceremony, the goodly oaken chair of the renowned
Wouter Van Twiller being carefully preserved for such occasions, in like
manner as the chair and stone were reverentially preserved at Scone, in
Scotland, for the coronation of the Caledonian monarchs.
I must not omit to mention that the tempestuous state of the elements,
together with its being that unlucky day of the week termed "hanging day,"
did not fail to excite much grave speculation and divers very reasonable
apprehensions among the more ancient and enlightened inhabitants; and
several of the sager sex, who were reputed to be not a little skilled in the
mysteries of astrology and fortune-telling, did declare outright that they
were omens of a disastrous administration; an event that came to be
lamentably verified, and which proves beyond dispute the wisdom of
attending to those preternatural intimations furnished by dreams and
visions, the flying of birds, falling of stones, and cackling of geese, on
which the sages and rulers of ancient times placed such reliance; or to those
shootings of stars, eclipses of the moon, howlings of dogs, and flarings of
candles, carefully noted and interpreted by the oracular Sibyls of our day,
who, in my humble opinion, are the legitimate inheritors and preservers of
the ancient science of divination. This much is certain, that Governor
Stuyvesant succeeded to the chair of state at a turbulent period, when foes
thronged and threatened from without, when anarchy and stiff-necked
opposition reigned rampant within; when the authority of their High
Mightinesses the Lords States General, though supported by economy, and
defended by speeches, protests, and proclamations, yet tottered to its very
center; and when the great city of New Amsterdam, though fortified by
flag-staffs, trumpeters, and windmills, seemed, like some fair lady of easy
virtue, to lie open to attack, and ready to yield to the first invader.

FOOTNOTES:
[39]
See the histories of Masters Josselyn and Blome.

CHAPTER II.

The very first movements of the great Peter, on taking the reins of
government, displayed his magnanimity, though they occasioned not a little
marvel and uneasiness among the people of the Manhattoes. Finding
himself constantly interrupted by the opposition, and annoyed by the advice
of his privy council, the members of which had acquired the unreasonable
habit of thinking and speaking to themselves during the preceding reign, he
determined at once to put a stop to such grievous abominations. Scarcely,
therefore, had he entered upon his authority, than he turned out of office all
the meddlesome spirits of the factious cabinet of William the Testy; in place
of whom he chose unto himself councillors from those fat, somniferous,
respectable burghers who had flourished and slumbered under the easy
reign of Walter the Doubter. All these he caused to be furnished with
abundance of fair long pipes, and to be regaled with frequent corporation
dinners, admonishing them to smoke, and eat, and sleep for the good of the
nation, while he took the burden of government upon his own shoulders—
an arrangement to which they all gave hearty acquiescence.
Nor did he stop here, but made a hideous rout among the inventions and
expedients of his learned predecessor—rooting up his patent gallows, where
caitiff vagabonds were suspended by the waistband; demolishing his flag-
staffs and windmills, which, like mighty giants, guarded the ramparts of
New Amsterdam; pitching to the Duyvel whole batteries of Quaker guns;
and, in a word, turning topsy-turvy the whole philosophic, economic, and
windmill system of the immortal sage of Saardam.
The honest folk of New Amsterdam began to quake now for the fate of their
matchless champion, Antony the Trumpeter, who had acquired prodigious
favor in the eyes of the women by means of his whiskers and his trumpet.

Him did Peter the Headstrong cause to be brought into his presence, and
eyeing him for a moment from head to foot, with a countenance that would
have appalled anything else than a sounder of brass—"Pr'ythee, who and
what art thou?" said he. "Sire," replied the other, in no wise dismayed, "for
my name, it is Antony Van Corlear—for my parentage, I am the son of my
mother—for my profession, I am champion and garrison of this great city of
New Amsterdam." "I doubt me much," said Peter Stuyvesant, "that thou art
some scurvy costard-monger knave: how didst thou acquire this paramount
honor and dignity?" "Marry, sir," replied the other, "like many a great man
before me, simply by sounding my own trumpet." "Ay, is it so?" quoth the
governor; "why, then, let us have a relish of thy art." Whereupon the good
Antony put his instrument to his lips, and sounded a charge with such
tremendous outset, such a delectable quaver, and such a triumphant
cadence, that it was enough to make one's heart leap out of one's mouth
only to be within a mile of it. Like as a war-worn charger, grazing in
peaceful plains, starts at a strain of martial music, pricks up his ears, and
snorts, and paws, and kindles at the noise, so did the heroic Peter joy to hear
the clangor of the trumpet; for of him might truly be said, what was
recorded of the renowned St. George of England, "there was nothing in all
the world that more rejoiced his heart than to hear the pleasant sound of
war, and see the soldiers brandish forth their steeled weapons." Casting his
eye more kindly, therefore, upon the sturdy Van Corlear, and finding him to
be a jovial varlet, shrewd in his discourse, yet of great discretion and
immeasurable wind, he straightway conceived a vast kindness for him, and
discharging him from the troublesome duty of garrisoning, defending, and
alarming the city, ever after retained him about his person, as his chief
favorite, confidential envoy, and trusty squire. Instead of disturbing the city
with disastrous notes, he was instructed to play so as to delight the governor
while at his repasts, as did the minstrels of yore in the days of glorious
chivalry; and on all public occasions to rejoice the ears of the people with
warlike melody, thereby keeping alive a noble and martial spirit.
But the measure of the valiant Peter which produced the greatest agitation
in the community was his laying his hand upon the currency. He had old-
fashioned notions in favor of gold and silver, which he considered the true
standards of wealth and mediums of commerce, and one of his first edicts

was that all duties to government should be paid in those precious metals,
and that seawant, or wampum, should no longer be a legal tender.
Here was a blow at public prosperity! All those who speculated on the rise
and fall of this fluctuating currency found their calling at an end; those, too,
who had hoarded Indian money by barrels full, found their capital shrunk in
amount; but, above all, the Yankee traders, who were accustomed to flood
the market with newly-coined oyster-shells, and to abstract Dutch
merchandise in exchange, were loud-mouthed in decrying this "tampering
with the currency." It was clipping the wings of commerce; it was checking
the development of public prosperity; trade would be at an end; goods
would moulder on the shelves; grain would rot in the granaries; grass would
grow in the marketplace. In a word, no one who has not heard the outcries
and howlings of a modern Tarshish, at any check upon "paper money," can
have any idea of the clamor against Peter the Headstrong for checking the
circulation of oyster-shells.
In fact, trade did shrink into narrower channels; but then the stream was
deep as it was broad. The honest Dutchman sold less goods; but then they
got the worth of them, either in silver and gold, or in codfish, tinware,
apple-brandy, Weathersfield onions, wooden bowls, and other articles of
Yankee barter. The ingenious people of the east, however, indemnified
themselves in another way for having to abandon the coinage of oyster-
shells, for about this time we are told that wooden nutmegs made their first
appearance in New Amsterdam, to the great annoyance of the Dutch
housewives.
NOTE.
From a manuscript record of the province (Lib, N.Y. Hist, Soc.).—"We
have been unable to render your inhabitants wiser, and prevent their being,
further imposed upon, than to declare, absolutely and peremptorily, that
henceforward seawant shall be bullion—not longer admissable in trade,
without any value, as it is indeed. So that every one may be upon his guard
to barter no longer away his wares and merchandise for these baubles; at
least not to accept them at a higher rate, or in a larger quantity, than as they
may want them in their trade with the savages.

"In this way your English [Yankee] neighbors shall no longer be enabled to
draw the best wares and merchandise from our country for nothing; the
beavers and furs not excepted. This has, indeed, long since been
insufferable; although it ought chiefly to be imputed to the imprudent
penuriousness of our own merchants and inhabitants, who, it is to be hoped,
shall, through the abolition of this seawant, become wiser and more
prudent.
"27th January, 1662,
"Seawant falls into disrepute; duties to be paid in silver coin."

CHAPTER III.

Now it came to pass, that while Peter Stuyvesant was busy regulating the
internal affairs of his domain, the great Yankee league, which had caused
such tribulation to William the Testy, continued to increase in extent and
power. The grand Amphictyonic council of the league was held at Boston,
where it spun a web which threatened to link within it all the mighty
principalities and powers of the east. The object proposed by this
formidable combination was mutual protection and defence against their
savage neighbors; but all the world knows the real aim was to form a grand
crusade against the Nieuw Nederlandts and to get possession of the city of
the Manhattoes—as devout an object of enterprise and ambition to the
Yankees as was ever the capture of Jerusalem to ancient Crusaders.
In the very year following the inauguration of Governor Stuyvesant, a grand
deputation departed from the city of Providence (famous for its dusty streets
and beauteous women) in behalf of the plantation of Rhode Island, praying
to be admitted into the league.
The following minute of this deputation appears in the ancient records of
the council.[40]
"Mr. Will. Cottington and Captain Partridg of Rhoode Island presented this
insewing request to the commissioners in wrighting——

"Our request and motion is in behalfe of Rhoode Iland, that wee the ilanders
of Rhoode Iland may be rescauied into combination with all the united
colonyes of New England in a firme and perpetual league of friendship and
amity of ofence and defence, mutuall advice and succor upon all just
occasions for our mutuall safety and wellfaire, etc.
"
WILL COTTINGTON.
"
ALICXSANDER PARTRIDG."
There was certainly something in the very physiognomy of this document
that might well inspire apprehension. The name of Alexander, however mis-
spelt, has been warlike in every age, and though its fierceness is in some
measure softened by being coupled with the gentle cognomen of Partridge,
still, like the color of scarlet, it bears an exceeding great resemblance to the
sound of a trumpet. From the style of the letter, moreover, and the soldier-
like ignorance of orthography displayed by the noble Captain Alicxsander
Partridg in spelling his own name, we may picture to ourselves this mighty
man of Rhodes, strong in arms, potent in the field, and as great a scholar as
though he had been educated among that learned people of Thrace, who,
Aristotle assures us, could not count beyond the number four.
The result of this great Yankee league was augmented audacity on the part
of the moss-troopers of Connecticut, pushing their encroachments farther
and farther into the territories of their High Mightinesses, so that even the
inhabitants of New Amsterdam began to draw short breath, and to find
themselves exceedingly cramped for elbow-room.
Peter Stuyvesant was not a man to submit quietly to such intrusions; his
first impulse was to march at once to the frontier, and kick these squatting
Yankees out of the country; but, bethinking himself in time that he was now
a governor and legislator, the policy of the statesman for once cooled the
fire of the old soldier, and he determined to try his hand at negotiation. A
correspondence accordingly ensued between him and the great council of
the league, and it was agreed that commissioners from either side should
meet at Hartford, to settle boundaries, adjust grievances, and establish a
"perpetual and happy peace."

The commissioners on the part of the Manhattoes were chosen, according to
immemorial usage of that venerable metropolis, from among the "wisest
and weightiest" men of the community; that is to say, men with the oldest
heads and heaviest pockets. Among these sages the veteran navigator, Hans
Reinier Oothout, who had made such extensive discoveries during the time
of Oloffe the Dreamer, was looked up to as an oracle in all matters of the
kind; and he was ready to produce the very spy-glass with which he first
spied the mouth of the Connecticut river from his masthead, and all the
world knows that the discovery of the mouth of the river gives prior right to
all the lands drained by its waters.
It was with feelings of pride and exultation that the good people of the
Manhattoes saw two of the richest and most ponderous burghers departing
on this embassy; men whose word on 'Change was oracular, and in whose
presence no poor man ventured to appear without taking off his hat: when it
was seen, too, that the veteran Reinier Oothout accompanied them with his
spy-glass under his arm, all the old men and old women predicted that men
of such weight, with such evidence, would leave the Yankees no alternative
but to pack up their tin kettles and wooden wares, put wife and children in a
cart, and abandon all the lands of their High Mightinesses on which they
had squatted.
In truth, the commissioners sent to Hartford by the league seemed in no
wise calculated to compete with men of such capacity. They were two lean
Yankee lawyers, litigious-looking varlets, and evidently men of no
substance, since they had no rotundity in the belt, and there was no jingling
of money in their pockets; it is true they had longer heads than the
Dutchmen; but if the heads of the latter were flat at top, they were broad at
bottom, and what was wanting in height of forehead was made up by a
double chin.
The negotiation turned as usual upon the good old corner-stone of original
discovery; according to the principle that he who first sees a new country
has an unquestionable right to it. This being admitted, the veteran Oothout,
at a concerted signal, stepped forth in the assembly with the identical
tarpaulin spy-glass in his hand with which he had discovered the mouth of
the Connecticut, while the worthy Dutch commissioners lolled back in their
chairs, secretly chuckling at the idea of having for once got the weather-

gauge of the Yankees, but what was their dismay when the latter produced a
Nantucket whaler with a spy-glass, twice as long, with which he discovered
the whole coast, quite down to the Manhattoes: and so crooked that he had
spied with it up the whole course of the Connecticut river. This principle
pushed home, therefore, the Yankees had a right to the whole country
bordering on the Sound; nay, the city of New Amsterdam was a mere Dutch
squatting-place on their territories.
I forbear to dwell upon the confusion of the worthy Dutch commissioners at
finding their main pillar of proof thus knocked from under them; neither
will I pretend to describe the consternation of the wise men at the
Manhattoes when they learnt how their commissioner, had been out-
trumped by the Yankees, and how the latter pretended to claim to the very
gates of New Amsterdam.
Long was the negotiation protracted, and long was the public mind kept in a
state of anxiety. There are two modes of settling boundary questions, when
the claims of the opposite parties are irreconcilable. One is by an appeal to
arms, in which case the weakest party is apt to lose its right, and get a
broken head into the bargain; the other mode is by compromise, or mutual
concession—that is to say, one party cedes half of its claims, and the other
party half of its rights; he who grasps most gets most, and the whole is
pronounced an equitable division, "perfectly honorable to both parties."
The latter mode was adopted in the present instance. The Yankees gave up
claims to vast tracts of the Nieuw Nederlandts which they had never seen,
and all right to the island of Manna-hata and the city of New Amsterdam, to
which they had no right at all; while the Dutch, in return, agreed that the
Yankees should retain possession of the frontier places where they had
squatted, and of both sides of the Connecticut river.
When the news of this treaty arrived at New Amsterdam, the whole city was
in an uproar of exultation. The old women rejoiced that there was to be no
war, the old men that their cabbage-gardens were safe from invasion; while
the political sages pronounced the treaty a great triumph over the Yankees,
considering how much they had claimed, and how little they had been
"fobbed off with."

And now my worthy reader is, doubtless, like the great and good Peter,
congratulating himself with the idea that his feelings will no longer be
harassed by afflicting details of stolen horses, broken heads, impounded
hogs, and all the other catalogue of heart-rending cruelties that disgraced
these border wars. But if he should indulge in such expectations, it is a
proof that he is but little versed in the paradoxical ways of cabinets; to
convince him of which I solicit his serious attention to my next chapter,
wherein I will show that Peter Stuyvesant has already committed a great
error in politics, and, by effecting a peace, has materially hazarded the
tranquillity of the province.
FOOTNOTES:
[40]
Haz. Coll. Stat. Pap.

CHAPTER IV.

It was the opinion of that poetical philosopher, Lucretius, that war was the
original state of man, whom he described as being, primitively, a savage
beast of prey, engaged in a constant state of hostility with his own species,
and that this ferocious spirit was tamed and ameliorated by society. The
same opinion has been advocated by Hobbes;[41] nor have there been
wanting many other philosophers to admit and defend it.
For my part, though prodigiously fond of these valuable speculations, so
complimentary to human nature, yet, in this instance, I am inclined to take
the proposition by halves, believing with Horace,[42] that though war may
have been originally the favorite amusement and industrious employment of
our progenitors, yet, like many other excellent habits, so far from being
ameliorated, it has been cultivated and confirmed by refinement and
civilization, and increases in exact proportion as we approach towards that
state of perfection which is the ne plus ultra of modern philosophy.

The first conflict between man and man was the mere exertion of physical
force, unaided by auxiliary weapons—his arm was his buckler, his fist was
his mace, and a broken head the catastrophe of his encounters. The battle of
unassisted strength was succeeded by the more rugged one of stones and
clubs, and war assumed a sanguinary aspect. As man advanced in
refinement, as his faculties expanded, and as his sensibilities became more
exquisite, he grew rapidly more ingenious and experienced in the art of
murdering his fellow beings. He invented a thousand devices to defend and
to assault—the helmet, the cuirass, and the buckler, the sword, the dart, and
the javelin, prepared him to elude the wound as well as to launch the blow.
Still urging on, in the career of philanthropic invention, he enlarges and
heightens his powers of defense and injury. The aries, the scorpio, the
balista, and the catapulta, give a horror and sublimity to war, and magnify
its glory, by increasing its desolation. Still insatiable, though armed with
machinery that seemed to reach the limits of destructive invention, and to
yield a power of injury commensurate even with the desires of revenge—
still deeper researches must be made in the diabolical arcana. With furious
zeal he dives into the bowels of the earth; he toils midst poisonous minerals,
and deadly salts—the sublime discovery of gunpowder blazes upon the
world; and finally, the dreadful art of fighting by proclamation seems to
endow the demon of war with ubiquity and omnipotence!
This, indeed, is grand!—this, indeed, marks the powers of mind, and
bespeaks that divine endowment of reason, which distinguishes us from the
animals, our inferiors. The unenlightened brutes content themselves with
the native force which Providence has assigned them. The angry bull butts
with his horns, as did his progenitors before him; the lion, the leopard, and
the tiger, seek only with their talons and their fangs to gratify their
sanguinary fury; and even the subtle serpent darts the same venom, and uses
the same wiles, as did his sire before the flood. Man alone, blessed with the
inventive mind, goes on from discovery to discovery, enlarges and
multiplies his powers of destruction; arrogates the tremendous weapons of
Deity itself, and tasks creation to assist him in murdering his brother worm!
In proportion as the art of war has increased in improvement has the art of
preserving peace advanced in equal ratio; and as we have discovered, in this
age of wonders and inventions, that proclamation is the most formidable

engine of war, so have we discovered the no less ingenious mode of
maintaining peace by perpetual negotiations.
A treaty, or, to speak more correctly, a negotiation, therefore, according to
the acceptation of experienced statesmen learned in these matters, is no
longer an attempt to accommodate differences, to ascertain rights, and to
establish an equitable exchange of kind offices; but a contest of skill
between two powers which shall overreach and take in the other it is a
cunning endeavor to obtain by peaceful manoeuvre and the chicanery of
cabinets those advantages which a nation would otherwise have wrested by
force of arms; in the same manner as a conscientious highwayman reforms
and becomes a quiet and praiseworthy citizen, contenting himself with
cheating his neighbor out of that property he would formerly have seized
with open violence.
In fact, the only time when two nations can be said to be in a state of perfect
amity is when a negotiation is open and a treaty pending. Then, when there
are no stipulations entered into, no bonds to restrain the will, no specific
limits to awaken the captious jealousy of right implanted in our nature;
when each party has some advantage to hope and expect from the other;
then it is that the two nations are wonderfully gracious and friendly, their
ministers professing the highest mutual regard, exchanging billets-doux,
making fine speeches, and indulging in all those little diplomatic flirtations,
coquetries, and fondlings, that do so marvelously tickle the good humor of
the respective nations. Thus it may paradoxically be said, that there is never
so good an understanding between two nations as when there is a little
misunderstanding—and that so long as they are on terms at all they are on
the best terms in the world!
I do not by any means pretend to claim the merit of having made the above
discovery. It has, in fact, long been secretly acted upon by certain
enlightened cabinets, and is, together with divers other notable theories,
privately copied out of the commonplace book of an illustrious gentleman
who has been member of congress, and enjoyed the unlimited confidence of
heads of departments. To this principle may be ascribed the wonderful
ingenuity shown of late years in protracting and interrupting negotiations.
Hence the cunning measure of appointing as ambassador some political
pettifogger skilled in delays, sophisms, and misapprehensions, and

dexterous in the art of baffling argument; or some blundering statesman,
whose errors and misconstructions may be a plea for refusing to ratify his
engagements. And hence, too, that most notable expedient, so popular with
our government, of sending out a brace of ambassadors, between whom,
having each an individual will to consult, character to establish, and interest
to promote, you may as well look for unanimity and concord as between
two lovers with one mistress, two dogs with one bone, or two naked rogues
with one pair of breeches. This disagreement, therefore, is continually
breeding delays and impediments, in consequence of which the negotiation
goes on swimmingly, inasmuch as there is no prospect of its ever coming to
a close. Nothing is lost by these delays and obstacles but time; and in a
negotiation, according to the theory I have exposed, all time lost is in reality
so much time gained; with what delightful paradoxes does modern political
economy abound!
Now all that I have here advanced, is so notoriously true, that I almost blush
to take up the time of my readers, with treating of matters which must many
a time have stared them in the face. But the proposition to which I would
most earnestly call their attention is this, that though a negotiation be the
most harmonizing of all national transactions, yet a treaty of peace is a great
political evil, and one of the most fruitful sources of war.
I have rarely seen an instance of any special contract between individuals
that did not produce jealousies, bickerings and often downright ruptures
between them; nor did I ever know of a treaty between two nations that did
not occasion continual misunderstandings. How many worthy country
neighbors have I known, who, after living in peace and good-fellowship for
years, have been thrown into a state of distrust, caviling, and animosity, by
some ill-starred agreement about fences, runs of water, and stray cattle! and
how many well-meaning nations, who would otherwise have remained in
the most amicable disposition towards each other, have been brought to
swords' points about the infringement or misconstruction of some treaty,
which in an evil hour they had concluded, by way of making their amity
more sure!
Treaties at best are but complied with so long as interest requires their
fulfilment; consequently they are virtually binding on the weaker party
only, or, in plain truth, they are not binding at all. No nation will wantonly

go to war with another if it has nothing to gain thereby, and therefore needs
no treaty to restrain it from violence; and if it have anything to gain, I much
question, from what I have witnessed of the righteous conduct of nations,
whether any treaty could be made so strong that it could not thrust the
sword through; nay, I would hold ten to one the treaty itself would be the
very source to which resort would be had to find a pretext for hostilities.
Thus, therefore, I conclude—that though it is the best of all policies for a
nation to keep up a constant negotiation with its neighbors, yet it is the
summit of folly for it ever to be beguiled into a treaty; for then comes on
non-fulfillment and infraction, then remonstrance, then altercation, then
retaliation, then recrimination, and finally open war. In a word, negotiation
is like courtship, a time of sweet words, gallant speeches, soft looks, and
endearing caresses—but the marriage ceremony is the signal for hostilities.
If my painstaking reader be not somewhat perplexed by the ratiocination of
the foregoing passage, he will perceive at a glance that the great Peter, in
concluding a treaty with his eastern neighbors, was guilty of lamentable
error in policy. In fact, to this unlucky agreement may be traced a world of
bickerings and heart-burnings between the parties, about fancied or
pretended infringements of treaty stipulations; in all which the Yankees
were prone to indemnify themselves by a "dig into the sides" of the New
Netherlands. But, in sooth, these border feuds, albeit they gave great
annoyance to the good burghers of Mannahata, were so pitiful in their
nature, that a grave historian like myself, who grudges the time spent in
anything less than the revolutions of states and fall of empires, would deem
them unworthy of being inscribed on his page. The reader is, therefore, to
take it for granted—though I scorn to waste in the detail that time which my
furrowed brow and trembling hand inform me is invaluable—that all the
while the great Peter was occupied in those tremendous and bloody contests
which I shall shortly rehearse, there was a continued series of little, dirty,
sniveling scourings, broils, and maraudings, kept up on the eastern frontiers
by the moss-troopers of Connecticut. But, like that mirror of chivalry, the
sage and valorous Don Quixote, I leave these petty contests for some future
Sancho Panza of an historian, while I reserve my prowess and my pen for
achievements of higher dignity; for at this moment I hear a direful and
portentous note issuing from the bosom of the great council of the league,
and resounding throughout the regions of the east, menacing the fame and

fortunes of Peter Stuyvesant; I call, therefore, upon the reader to leave
behind him all the paltry brawls of the Connecticut borders, and to press
forward with me to the relief of our favorite hero, who, I foresee, will be
wofully beset by the implacable Yankees in the next chapter.
FOOTNOTES:
[41]
Hobbes, Leviathan, part i., ch. 13.

[42]
"Cum prorepserunt primis animalia terris,
Mutum et turpe pecus, glandem atque cubilia propter,
Unguibus et pugnis, dein fustibus, atque its porro
Pugnabaut armis, quæ post fabricaverat usus."
—Hor. Sat. lib. i. s. 3.

CHAPTER V.

That the reader may be aware of the peril at this moment menacing Peter
Stuyvesant and his capital, I must remind him of the old charge advanced in
the council of the league in the time of William the Testy, that the
Nederlanders were carrying on a trade "damnable and injurious to the
colonists," in furnishing the savages with "guns, powther, and shott." This,
as I then suggested, was a crafty device of the Yankee confederacy to have a
snug cause of war in petto, in case any favorable opportunity should present
of attempting the conquest of the New Nederlands, the great object of
Yankee ambition.
Accordingly, we now find, when every other ground of complaint had
apparently been removed by treaty, this nefarious charge revived with
tenfold virulence, and hurled like a thunderbolt at the very head of Peter
Stuyvesant; happily his head, like that of the great bull of the Wabash, was
proof against such missiles.

To be explicit, we are told that, in the years 1651, the great confederacy of
the east accused the immaculate Peter, the soul of honor and heart of steel,
of secretly endeavoring, by gifts and promises, to instigate the
Narroheganset, Mohaque, and Pequot Indians to surprise and massacre the
Yankee settlements. "For," as the grand council observed, "the Indians
round about for divers hundred miles cercute seeme to have drunk deepe of
an intoxicating cupp, att or from the Manhattoes against the English, whoe
have sought their good, both in bodily and spirituall respects."
This charge they pretended to support by the evidence of divers Indians,
who were probably moved by that spirit of truth which is said to reside in
the bottle, and who swore to the fact as sturdily as though they had been so
many Christian troopers.
Though descended from a family which suffered much injury from the losel
Yankees of those times, my great-grandfather having had a yoke of oxen
and his best pacer stolen, and having received a pair of black eyes and a
bloody nose in one of these border wars; and my grandfather, when a very
little boy tending pigs, having been kidnaped and severely flogged by a
long-sided Connecticut schoolmaster—yet I should have passed over all
these wrongs with forgiveness and oblivion—I could even have suffered
them to have broken Everett Ducking's head; to have kicked the doughty
Jacobus Van Curlet and his ragged regiment out of doors; to have carried
every hog into captivity, and depopulated every hen-roost on the face of the
earth with perfect impunity—but this wanton attack upon one of the most
gallant and irreproachable heroes of modern times is too much even for me
to digest, and has overset, with a single puff, the patience of the historian
and the forbearance of the Dutchman.
Oh, reader, it was false! I swear to thee, it was false! If thou hast any respect
to my word, if the undeviating character for veracity, which I have
endeavored to maintain throughout this work, has its due weight with thee,
thou wilt not give thy faith to this tale of slander; for I pledge my honor and
my immortal fame to thee, that the gallant Peter Stuyvesant was not only
innocent of this foul conspiracy, but would have suffered his right arm, or
even his wooden leg, to consume with slow and everlasting flames, rather
than attempt to destroy his enemies in any other way than open, generous

warfare. Beshrew those caitiff scouts that conspired to sully his honest
name by such an imputation!
Peter Stuyvesant, though haply he may never have heard of a knight errant,
had as true a heart of chivalry as ever beat at the round table of King Arthur.
In the honest bosom of this heroic Dutchman dwelt the seven noble virtues
of knighthood, flourishing among his hardy qualities like wild flowers
among rocks. He was, in truth, a hero of chivalry struck off by Nature at a
single heat, and though little care may have been taken to refine her
workmanship, he stood forth a miracle of her skill. In all his dealings he
was headstrong perhaps, but open and above board; if there was anything in
the whole world he most loathed and despised, it was cunning and secret
wile; "straight forward" was his motto, and he at any time rather run his
hard head against a stone wall than attempt to get round it.
Such was Peter Stuyvesant, and if my admiration of him has on this
occasion transported my style beyond the sober gravity which becomes the
philosophic recorder of historic events, I must plead as an apology that
though a little grey-headed Dutchman, arrived almost at the down-hill of
life, I still retain a lingering spark of that fire which kindles in the eye of
youth when contemplating the virtues of ancient worthies. Blessed thrice,
and nine times blessed be the good St. Nicholas, if I have indeed escaped
that apathy which chills the sympathies of age and paralyses every glow of
enthusiasm.
The first measure of Peter Stuyvesant, on hearing of this slanderous charge,
would have been worthy of a man who had studied for years in the
chivalrous library of Don Quixote. Drawing his sword and laying it across
the table to put him in proper tune, he took pen in hand and indited a proud
and lofty letter to the council of the league, reproaching them with giving
ear to the slanders of heathen savages against a Christian, a soldier, and a
cavalier; declaring that whoever charged him with the plot in question lied
in his throat; to prove which he offered to meet the president of the council,
or any of his compeers; or their champion, Captain Alexander Partridge,
that mighty man of Rhodes, in single combat; wherein he trusted to
vindicate his honor by the prowess of his arm.

This missive was intrusted to his trumpeter and squire, Anthony Van
Corlear, that man of emergencies, with orders to travel night and day,
sparing neither whip nor spur, seeing that he carried the vindication of his
patron's fame in his saddle-bags. The loyal Anthony accomplished his
mission with great speed and considerable loss of leather. He delivered his
missive with becoming ceremony, accompanying it with a flourish of
defiance on his trumpet to the whole council, ending with a significant and
nasal twang full in the face of Captain Partridge, who nearly jumped out of
his skin in an ecstasy of astonishment.
The grand council was composed of men too cool and practical to be put
readily in a heat, or to indulge in knight-errantry, and above all to run a tilt
with such a fiery hero as Peter the Headstrong. They knew the advantage,
however, to have always a snug, justifiable cause of war in reserve with a
neighbor who had territories worth invading; so they devised a reply to
Peter Stuyvesant, calculated to keep up the "raw" which they had
established.
On receiving this answer, Anthony Van Corlear remounted the Flanders
mare which he always rode, and trotted merrily back to the Manhattoes,
solacing himself by the way according to his wont; twanging his trumpet
like a very devil, so that the sweet valleys and banks of the Connecticut,
resounded with the warlike melody; bringing all the folks to the windows as
he passed through Hartford and Pyquag and Middletown, and all the other
border towns; ogling and winking at the women, and making aerial
windmills from the end of his nose at their husbands; and stopping
occasionally in the villages to eat pumpkin-pies, dance at country frolics,
and bundle with the Yankee lasses, whom he rejoiced exceedingly with his
soul-stirring instrument.

CHAPTER VI.

The reply of the grand council to Peter Stuyvesant was couched in the
coolest and most diplomatic language. They assured him that "his confident
denials of the barbarous plot alleged against him would weigh little against

the testimony of divers sober and respectable Indians;" that "his guilt was
proved to their perfect satisfaction," so that they must still require and seek
due satisfaction and security; ending with—"so we rest, sir—Yours in ways
of righteousness."
I forbear to say how the lion-hearted Peter roared and ramped at finding
himself more and more entangled in the meshes thus artfully drawn round
him by the knowing Yankees. Impatient, however, of suffering so gross an
aspersion to rest upon his honest name, he sent a second messenger to the
council, reiterating his denial of the treachery imputed to him, and offering
to submit his conduct to the scrutiny of a court of honor. His offer was
readily accepted; and now he looked forward with confidence to an august
tribunal to be assembled at the Manhattoes, formed of high-minded
cavaliers, peradventure governors and commanders of the confederate
plantations, where the matter might be investigated by his peers in a manner
befitting his rank and dignity.
While he was awaiting the arrival of such high functionaries, behold, one
sunshiny afternoon there rode into the great gate of the Manhattoes two
lean, hungry-looking Yankees, mounted on Narraganset pacers, with saddle-
bags under their bottoms, and green satchels under their arms, who looked
marvelously like two pettifogging attorneys beating the hoof from one
county court to another in quest of lawsuits; and, in sooth, though they may
have passed under different names at the time, I have reason to suspect they
were the identical varlets who had negotiated the worthy Dutch
commissioners out of the Connecticut river.
It was a rule with these indefatigable missionaries never to let the grass
grow under their feet. Scarce had they, therefore, alighted at the inn and
deposited their saddle-bags, than they made their way to the residence of
the governor. They found him, according to custom, smoking his afternoon
pipe on the "stoop," or bench at the porch of his house, and announced
themselves at once as commissioners sent by the grand council of the east
to investigate the truth of certain charges advanced against him.
The good Peter took his pipe from his mouth, and gazed at them for a
moment in mute astonishment. By way of expediting business, they were
proceeding on the spot to put some preliminary questions; asking him,

peradventure, whether he pleaded guilty or not guilty; considering him
something in the light of a culprit at the bar; when they were brought to a
pause by seeing him lay down his pipe and begin to fumble with his
walking-staff. For a moment those present would not have given half a
crown for both the crowns of the commissioners; but Peter Stuyvesant
repressed his mighty wrath and stayed his hand; he scanned the varlets from
head to foot, satchels and all, with a look of ineffable scorn; then strode into
the house, slammed the door after him, and commanded that they should
never again be admitted to his presence.
The knowing commissioners winked to each other and made a certificate on
the spot that the governor had refused to answer their interrogatories or to
submit to their examination. They then proceeded to rummage about the
city for two or three days, in quest of what they called evidence, perplexing
Indians and old women with their cross-questioning until they had stuffed
their satchels and saddle-bags with all kinds of apocryphal tales, rumors,
and calumnies; with these they mounted their Narraganset pacers, and
travelled back to the grand council. Neither did the proud-hearted Peter
trouble himself to hinder their researches nor impede their departure; he
was too mindful of their sacred character as envoys; but I warrant me had
they played the same tricks with William the Testy, he would have had them
tucked up by the waistband, and treated to an aerial gambol on his patent
gallows.

CHAPTER VII.

The grand council of the east held a solemn meeting on the return of their
envoys. As no advocate appeared in behalf of Peter Stuyvesant, everything
went against him. His haughty refusal to submit to the questioning of the
commissioners was construed into a consciousness of guilt. The contents of
the satchels and saddle-bags were poured forth before the council, and
appeared a mountain of evidence. A pale bilious orator took the floor, and
declaimed for hours and in belligerent terms. He was one of those furious
zealots who blow the bellows of faction until the whole furnace of politics
is red-hot with sparks and cinders. What was it to him if he should set the

house on fire, so that he might boil his pot by the blaze? He was from the
borders of Connecticut; his constituents lived by marauding their Dutch
neighbors, and were the greatest poachers in Christendom, excepting the
Scotch border nobles. His eloquence had its effect, and it was determined to
set on foot an expedition against the Nieuw Nederlandts.
It was necessary, however, to prepare the public mind for this measure.
Accordingly the arguments of the orator were echoed from the pulpit for
several succeeding Sundays, and a crusade was preached up against Peter
Stuyvesant and his devoted city.
This is the first we hear of the "drum ecclesiastic" beating up for recruits in
worldly warfare in our country. It has since been called into frequent use. A
cunning politician often lurks under the clerical robe; things spiritual and
things temporal are strangely jumbled together, like drugs on an
apothecary's shelf; and instead of a peaceful sermon, the simple seeker after
righteousness has often a political pamphlet thrust down his throat, labeled
with a pious text from Scripture.
And now nothing was talked of but an expedition against the Manhattoes. It
pleased the populace, who had a vehement prejudice against the Dutch,
considering them a vastly inferior race, who had sought the new world for
the lucre of gain, not the liberty of conscience: who were mere heretics and
infidels, inasmuch as the refused to believe in witches and sea-serpents, and
had, faith in the virtues of horse-shoes nailed to the door; ate pork without
molasses; held pumpkins in contempt, and were in perpetual breach of the
eleventh commandment of all true Yankees, "Thou shalt have codfish
dinners on Saturdays."
No sooner did Peter Stuyvesant get wind of the storm that was brewing in
the east, than he set to work to prepare for it. He was not one of those
economical rulers who postpone the expense of fortifying until the enemy is
at the door. There is nothing, he would say, that keeps off enemies and
crows more than the smell of gunpowder. He proceeded, therefore, with all
diligence, to put the province and its metropolis in a posture of defence.
Among the remnants which remained from the days of William the Testy
were the militia laws, by which the inhabitants were obliged to turn out
twice a year, with such military equipments as it pleased God; and were put

under the command of tailors and man-milliners, who, though on ordinary
occasions they might have been the meekest, most pippin-hearted little men
in the world, were very devils at parades, when they had cocked hats on
their heads and swords by their sides. Under the instructions of these
periodical warriors, the peaceful burghers of the Manhattoes were schooled
in iron war, and became so hardy in the process of time, that they could
march through sun and rain, from one end of the town to the other, without
flinching; and so intrepid and adroit, that they could face to the right, wheel
to the left, and fare without winking or blinking.
Peter Stuyvesant, like all old soldiers who have seen service and smelt
gunpowder, had no great respect for militia troops: however, he determined
to give them a trial, and accordingly called for a general muster, inspection,
and review. But, O Mars and Bellona! what a turning-out was here! Here
came old Roelant Cuckaburt, with a short blunderbuss on his shoulder and a
long horseman's sword trailing by his side; and Barent Dirkson, with
something that looked like a copper kettle, turned upside down on his head,
and a couple of old horse pistols in his belt; and Dirk Volkertson, with a
long duck fowling-piece without any ramrod, and a host more, armed
higgledy-piggledy with swords, hatchets, snickersnees, crowbars,
broomsticks, and what not; the officers distinguished from the rest by
having their slouched hats cocked up with pins and surmounted with
cocktail feathers.
The sturdy Peter eyed this nondescript host with some such rueful aspect as
a man would eye the devil, and determined to give his feather-bed soldiers a
seasoning. He accordingly put them through their manual exercise over and
over again, trudged them backwards and forwards about the streets of New
Amsterdam, until their short legs ached and their fat sides sweated again,
and finally encamped them in the evening on the summit of a hill without
the city, to give them a taste of camp life, intending the next day to renew
the toils and perils of the field. But so it came to pass that in the night there
fell a great and heavy rain, and melted away the army, so that in the
morning when Gaffer Phoebus shed his first beams upon the camp, scarce a
warrior remained, excepting Peter Stuyvesant and his trumpeter, Van
Corlear.

This awful desolation of a whole army would have appalled a commander
of less nerve; but it served to confirm Peter's want of confidence in the
militia system, which he thenceforward used to call, in joke—for he
sometimes indulged in a joke—William the Testy's broken reed. He now
took into his service a goodly number of burly, broad-shouldered, broad-
bottomed Dutchmen, whom he paid in good silver and gold, and of whom
he boasted that, whether they could stand fire or not, they were at least
water-proof.
He fortified the city, too, with pickets and palisadoes, extending across the
island from river to river; and above all cast up mud batteries or redoubts on
the point of the island where it divided the beautiful bosom of the bay.
These latter redoubts, in process of time, came to be pleasantly overrun by a
carpet of grass and clover, and overshadowed by wide-spreading elms and
sycamores, among the branches of which the birds would build their nests
and rejoice the ear with their melodious notes. Under these trees, too, the
old burghers would smoke their afternoon pipe, contemplating the golden
sun as he sank in the west, an emblem of the tranquil end toward which
they were declining. Here, too, would the young men and maidens of the
town take their evening stroll, watching the silver moon beams as they
trembled along the calm bosom of the bay, or lit up the sail of some gliding
bark, and peradventure interchanging the soft vows of honest affection; for
to evening strolls in this favored spot were traced most of the marriages in
New Amsterdam.
Such was the origin of that renowned promenade, The Battery, which,
though ostensibly devoted to the stern purposes of war, has ever been
consecrated to the sweet delights of peace. The scene of many a gambol in
happy childhood—of many a tender assignation in riper years—of many a
soothing walk in declining age—the healthful resort of the feeble invalid—
the Sunday refreshment of the dusty tradesman—in fine, the ornament and
delight of New York, and the pride of the lovely island of Manna-hata.

CHAPTER VIII.

Having thus provided for the temporary security of New Amsterdam, and
guarded it against any sudden surprise, the gallant Peter took a hearty pinch
of snuff, and snapping his fingers, set the great council of Amphictyons and
their champion, the redoubtable Alicxsander Partridg, at defiance. In the
meantime the moss-troopers of Connecticut, the warriors of New Haven
and Hartford, and Pyquag—otherwise called Weathersfield, famous for its
onions and its witches—and of all the other border towns, were in a
prodigious turmoil, furbishing up their rusty weapons, shouting aloud for
war, and anticipating easy conquests and glorious rummaging of the fat
little Dutch villages.
In the midst of these warlike preparations, however, they received the
chilling news that the colony of Massachusetts refused to back them in this
righteous war. It seems that the gallant conduct of Peter Stuyvesant, the
generous warmth of his vindication, and the chivalrous spirit of his
defiance, though lost upon the grand council of the league, had carried
conviction to the general court of Massachusetts, which nobly refused to
believe him guilty of the villainous plot laid at his door.[43]
The defection of so important a colony paralysed the councils of the league.
Some such dissension arose among its members as prevailed of yore in the
camp of the brawling warriors of Greece, and in the end the crusade against
the Manhattoes was abandoned.
It is said that the moss-troopers of Connecticut were sorely disappointed;
well for them that their belligerent cravings were not gratified, for, by my
faith, whatever might have been the ultimate result of a conflict with all the
powers of the east, in the interim the stomachful heroes of Pyquag would
have been choked with their own onions, and all the border towns of
Connecticut would have had such a scouring from the lion-hearted Peter
and his robustious myrmidons, that I warrant me they would not have had
the stomach to squat on the land, or invade the hen-roost of a Nederlander
for a century to come.
But it was not merely the refusal of Massachusetts to join in their unholy
crusade that confounded the councils of the league; for about this time
broke out in the New England provinces the awful plague of witchcraft,
which spread like pestilence through the land. Such a howling abomination

could not be suffered to remain long unnoticed; it soon excited the fiery
indignation of those guardians of the commonwealth, who whilom had
evinced such active benevolence in the conversion of Quakers and
Anabaptists. The grand council of the league publicly set their faces against
the crime, and bloody laws were enacted against all "solem conversing or
compacting with the devil by the way of conjuracion or the like."[44] Strict
search, too, was made after witches, who were easily detected by devil's
pinches; by being able to weep but three tears, and those out of the left eye;
and by having a most suspicious predilection for black cats and
broomsticks! What is particularly worthy of admiration is, that this terrible
art, which has baffled the studies and researches of philosophers,
astrologers, theurgists, and other sages, was chiefly confined to the most
ignorant, decrepid, and ugly old women in the community, with scarce
more brains than the broomsticks they rode upon.
When once an alarm is sounded, the public, who dearly love to be in a
panic, are always ready to keep it up. Raise but the cry of yellow fever, and
immediately every headache, indigestion, and overflowing of the bile is
pronounced the terrible epidemic; cry out mad dog, and every unlucky cur
in the street is in jeopardy; so in the present instance, whoever was troubled
with colic or lumbago was sure to be bewitched; and woe to any unlucky
old woman living in the neighborhood.
It is incredible the number of offences that were detected, "for every one of
which," says the Reverend Cotton Mather, in that excellent work, the
History of New England, "we have such a sufficient evidence, that no
reasonable man in this whole country ever did question them; and it will be
unreasonable to do it in any other."[45]
Indeed, that authentic and judicious historian, John Josselyn, gent.,
furnishes us with unquestionable facts on this subject. "There are none,"
observes he, "that beg in this country, but there be witches too many—
bottle-bellied witches and others, that produce many strange apparitions, if
you will believe report, of a shallop at sea manned with women—and of a
ship and great red horse standing by the mainmast; the ship being in a small
cove to the eastward vanished of a sudden," etc.

The number of delinquents, however, and their magical devices, were not
more remarkable than their diabolical obstinacy. Though exhorted in the
most solemn, persuasive and affectionate manner, to confess themselves
guilty, and be burnt for the good of religion, and the entertainment of the
public, yet did they most pertinaciously persist in asserting their innocence.
Such incredible obstinacy was in itself deserving of immediate punishment,
and was sufficient proof, if proof were necessary, that they were in league
with the devil, who is perverseness itself. But their judges were just and
merciful, and were determined to punish none that were not convicted on
the best of testimony; not that they needed any evidence to satisfy their own
minds, for, like true and experienced judges, their minds were perfectly
made up, and they were thoroughly satisfied of the guilt of the prisoners
before they proceeded to try them; but still something was necessary to
convince the community at large, to quiet those praying quidnuncs who
should come after them—in short, the world must be satisfied. Oh, the
world! the world! all the world knows the world of trouble the world is
eternally occasioning! The worthy judges, therefore, were driven to the
necessity of sifting, detecting and making evident as noonday, matters
which were at the commencement all clearly understood and firmly decided
upon in their own pericraniums; so that it may truly be said that the witches
were burnt to gratify the populace of the day, but were tried for the
satisfaction of the whole world that should come after them.
Finding, therefore, that neither exhortation, sound reason, nor friendly
entreaty had any avail on these hardened offenders, they resorted to the
more urgent arguments of torture; and having thus absolutely wrung the
truth from their stubborn lips, they condemned them to undergo the roasting
due unto the heinous crimes they had confessed. Some even carried their
perverseness so far as to expire under the torture, protesting their innocence
to the last; but these were looked upon as thoroughly and absolutely
possessed by the devil, and the pious bystanders only lamented that they
had not lived a little longer to have perished in the flames.
In the city of Ephesus, we are told that the plague was expelled by stoning a
ragged old beggar to death, whom Apollonius pointed out as being the evil
spirit that caused it, and who actually showed himself to be a demon by
changing into a shagged dog. In like manner, and by measures equally
sagacious, a salutary check was given to this growing evil. The witches

were all burnt, banished, or panic-stuck, and in a little while there was not
an ugly old woman to be found throughout New England; which is
doubtless one reason why all the young women there are so handsome.
Those honest folk who had suffered from their incantations gradually
recovered, excepting such as had been afflicted with twitches and aches,
which, however, assumed the less alarming aspects of rheumatism, ciatics,
and lumbagos; and the good people of New England, abandoning the study
of the occult sciences, turned their attention to the more profitable hocus
pocus of trade, and soon became expert in the legerdemain art of turning a
penny. Still, however, a tinge of the old leaven is discernible, even unto this
day, in their characters; witches occasionally start up among them in
different disguises, as physicians, civilians and divines. The people at large
show a keenness, a cleverness and a profundity of wisdom, that savors
strongly of witchcraft; and it has been remarked, that whenever any stones
fall from the moon, the greater part of them is sure to tumble into New
England.
FOOTNOTES:
[43]
Hazard's State Papers.

[44]
New Plymouth Record.

[45]
Mather's Hist. New Eng. b. vi. ch. 7.

CHAPTER IX.

When treating of these tempestuous times, the unknown writer of the
Stuyvesant manuscript breaks out into an apostrophe in praise of the good
St. Nicholas, to whose protecting care he ascribes the dissensions which

broke out in the council of the league, and the direful witchcraft which
filled all Yankee land as with Egyptian darkness.
A portentous gloom, says he, hung lowering over the fair valleys of the east;
the pleasant banks of the Connecticut no longer echoed to the sounds of
rustic gayety; grisly phantoms glided about each wild brook and silent glen;
fearful apparitions were seen in the air; strange voices were heard in
solitary places, and the border towns were so occupied in detecting and
punishing losel witches, that for a time all talk of war was suspended, and
New Amsterdam and its inhabitants seemed to be totally forgotten.
I must not conceal the fact, that at one time there was some danger of this
plague of witchcraft extending into the New Netherlands; and certain
witches, mounted on broomsticks, are said to have been seen whisking in
the air over some of the Dutch villages near the borders; but the worthy
Nederlanders took the precaution to nail horse-shoes to their doors, which it
is well known are effectual barriers against all diabolical vermin of the
kind. Many of those horse-shoes may be seen at this very day on ancient
mansions and barns, remaining from the days of the patriarchs; nay, the
custom is still kept up among some of our legitimate Dutch yeomanry, who
inherit from their forefathers a desire to keep witches and Yankees out of
the country.
And now the great Peter, having no immediate hostility to apprehend from
the east, turned his face, with characteristic vigilance, to his southern
frontiers. The attentive reader will recollect that certain freebooting Swedes
had become very troublesome in this quarter in the latter part of the reign of
William the Testy, setting at naught the proclamations of that veritable
potentate, and putting his admiral, the intrepid Jan Jensen Alpendam, to a
perfect nonplus. To check the incursions of these Swedes, Peter Stuyvesant
now ordered a force to that frontier, giving the command of it to General
Jacobus Van Poffenburgh, an officer who had risen to great importance
during the reign of Wilhelmus Kieft. He had, if histories speak true, been
second in command to the doughty Van Curlet, when he and his warriors
were inhumanly kicked out of Fort Goed Hoop by the Yankees. In that
memorable affair Van Poffenburgh is said to have received more kicks, in a
certain honorable part, than any of his comrades; in consequence of which,

on the resignation of Van Curlet, he had been promoted to his place, being
considered a hero who had seen service, and suffered in his country's cause.
It is tropically observed by honest old Socrates, that heaven infuses into
some men at their birth a portion of intellectual gold; into others, of
intellectual silver; while others are intellectually furnished with iron and
brass. Of the last class was General Van Poffenburgh, and it would seem as
if Dame Nature, who will sometimes be partial, had given him brass enough
for a dozen ordinary braziers. All this he had contrived to pass off upon
William the Testy for genuine gold; and the little governor would sit for
hours and listen to his gunpowder stories of exploits, which left those of
Tirante the White, Don Belianis of Greece, or St. George and the Dragon,
quite in the background. Having been promoted by William Kieft to the
command of his whole disposable forces, he gave importance to his station
by the grandiloquence of his bulletins, always styling himself Commander-
in-Chief of the Armies of the New Netherlands; though in sober truth these
Armies were nothing more than a handful of hen-stealing, bottle-bruising
ragamuffins.
In person he was not very tall, but exceedingly round: neither did his bulk
proceed from his being fat, but windy; being blown up by a prodigious
conviction of his own importance, until he resembled one of those bags of
wind given by Æolus, in an incredible fit of generosity to that vagabond
warrior, Ulysses. His windy endowments had long excited the admiration of
Antony Van Corlear, who is said to have hinted more than once to William
the Testy, that in making Van Poffenburgh a general, he had spoiled an
admirable trumpeter.
As it is the practice in ancient story to give the reader a description of the
arms and equipments of every noted warrior, I will bestow a word upon the
dress of this redoubtable commander. It comported with his character, being
so crossed and slashed, and embroidered with lace and tinsel, that he
seemed to have as much brass without as nature had stored away within. He
was swathed too in a crimson sash, of the size and texture of a fishing-net;
doubtless to keep his swelling heart from bursting through his ribs. His face
glowed with furnace heat from between a huge pair of well-powdered
whiskers; and his valorous soul seemed ready to bounce out of a pair of
large, glassy, blinking eyes, projecting like those of a lobster.

I swear to thee, worthy reader, if history and tradition belie not this warrior,
I would give all the money in my pocket to have seen him accoutred cap-a-
pie—booted to the middle—sashed to the chin—collared to the ears—
whiskered to the teeth—crowned with an overshadowing cocked hat, and
girded with a leathern belt ten inches broad, from which trailed a falchion,
of a length that I dare not mention. Thus equipped, he strutted about, as
bitter looking a man of war as the far-famed More, of More Hall, when he
sallied forth to slay the Dragon of Wantley. For what says the ballad?
"Had you but seen him in this dress,
How fierce he looked and how big,
You would have thought him for to be
Some Egyptian porcupig.
He frighted all—cats, dogs, and all,
Each cow, each horse, and each hog;
For fear did flee, for they took him to be
Some strange outlandish hedgehog."[46]
I must confess this general, with all his outward valor and ventosity, was
not exactly an officer to Peter Stuyvesant's taste, but he stood foremost in
the army list of William the Testy, and it is probable the good Peter, who
was conscientious in his dealings with all men, and had his military notions
of precedence, thought it but fair to give him a chance of proving his right
to his dignities.
To this copper captain, therefore, was confided the command of the troops
destined to protect the southern frontier; and scarce had he departed from
his station than bulletins began to arrive from him, describing his undaunted
march through savage deserts over insurmountable mountains, across
impassable rivers, and through impenetrable forests, conquering vast tracts
of uninhabited country, and encountering more perils than did Xenophon in
his far-famed retreat with his ten thousand Grecians.
Peter Stuyvesant read all these grandiloquent dispatches with a dubious
screwing of the mouth and shaking of the head; but Antony Van Corlear
repeated these contents in the streets and market-places with an appropriate
flourish upon his trumpet, and the windy victories of the general resounded
through the streets of New Amsterdam.

On arriving at the southern frontier, Van Poffenburgh proceeded to erect a
fortress, or stronghold, on the South of Delaware river. At first he bethought
him to call it Fort Stuyvesant, in honor of the governor, a lowly kind of
homage prevalent in our country among speculators, military commanders,
and office-seekers of all kinds, by which our maps come to be studded with
the names of political patrons and temporary great men; in the present
instance, Van Poffenburgh carried his homage to the most lowly degree,
giving his fortress the name of Fort Casimir, in honor, it is said, of a favorite
pair of brimstone trunk-breeches of his excellency.
As this fort will be found to give rise to important events, it may be worth
while to notice that it was afterwards called Nieuw-Amstel, and was the
germ of the present flourishing town of Newcastle, or, more properly
speaking, No Castle, there being nothing of the kind on the premises.
His fortress being finished, it would have done any man's heart good to
behold the swelling dignity with which the general would stride in and out a
dozen times a day, surveying it in front and in rear, on this side and on that;
how he would strut backwards and forwards, in full regimentals, on the top
of the ramparts, like a vain-glorious cock-pigeon, swelling and vaporing on
the top of a dovecote.
There is a kind of valorous spleen which, like wind, is apt to grow unruly in
the stomachs of newly-made soldiers, compelling them to box-lobby brawls
and brokenheaded quarrels, unless there can be found some more harmless
way to give it vent. It is recorded, in the delectable romance of Pierce
Forest, that a young knight, being dubbed by King Alexander, did
incontinently gallop into an adjacent forest, and belabor the trees with such
might and main, that he not merely eased off the sudden effervescence of
his valor, but convinced the whole court that he was the most potent and
courageous cavalier on the face of the earth. In like manner the commander
of Fort Casimir, when he found his martial spirit waxing too hot within him,
would sally forth into the fields and lay about him most lustily with his
sabre; decapitating cabbages by platoons; hewing down lofty sunflowers,
which he termed gigantic Swedes; and if, perchance, he espied a colony of
big-bellied pumpkins quietly basking in the sun, "Ah! caitiff Yankees!"
would he roar, "have I caught ye at last?" So saying, with one sweep of his
sword, he would cleave the unhappy vegetables from their chins to their

waist-bands; by which warlike havoc, his choler being in some sort allayed,
he would return into the fortress with the full conviction that he was a very
miracle of military prowess.
He was a disciplinarian, too, of the first order. Woe to any unlucky soldier
who did not hold up his head and turn out his toes when on parade; or who
did not salute the general in proper style as he passed. Having one day, in
his Bible researches, encountered the history of Absalom and his
melancholy end, the general bethought him that, in a country abounding
with forests, his soldiers were in constant risk of a like catastrophe; he
therefore, in an evil hour, issued orders for cropping the hair of both officers
and men throughout the garrison.
Now so it happened, that among his officers was a sturdy veteran named
Keldermeester, who had cherished, through a long life, a mop of hair not a
little resembling the shag of a Newfoundland dog, terminating in a queue
like the handle of a frying-pan, and queued so tightly to his head that his
eyes and mouth generally stood ajar, and his eyebrows were drawn up to the
top of his forehead. It may naturally be supposed that the possessor of so
goodly an appendage would resist with abhorrence an order condemning it
to the shears. On hearing the general orders, he discharged a tempest of
veteran, soldier-like oaths, and dunder and blixums—swore he would break
any man's head who attempted to meddle with his tail—queued it stiffer
than ever, and whisked it about the garrison as fiercely as the tail of a
crocodile.
The eelskin queue of old Keldermeester became instantly an affair of the
utmost importance. The commander-in-chief was too enlightened an officer
not to perceive that the discipline of the garrison, the subordination and
good order of the armies of the Nieuw-Nederlands, the consequent safety of
the whole province, and ultimately the dignity and prosperity of their High
Mightinesses the Lords States General, imperiously demanded the docking
of that stubborn queue. He decreed, therefore, that old Keldermeester
should be publicly shorn of his glories in presence of the whole garrison—
the old man as resolutely stood on the defensive-whereupon he was arrested
and tried by a court-martial for mutiny, desertion, and all the other list of
offences noticed in the articles of war, ending with a "videlicet, in wearing
an eelskin queue, three feet long, contrary to orders." Then came on

arraignments, and trials, and pleadings; and the whole garrison was in a
ferment about this unfortunate queue. As it is well known that the
commander of a frontier post has the power of acting pretty much after his
own will, there is little doubt but that the veteran would have been hanged
or shot at least, had he not luckily fallen ill of a fever, through mere chagrin
and mortification—and deserted from all earthly command, with his
beloved locks unviolated. His obstinacy remained unshaken to the very last
moment, when he directed that he should be carried to his grave with his
eelskin queue sticking out of a hole in his coffin.
This magnanimous affair obtained the general great credit as a
disciplinarian; but it is hinted that he was ever afterwards subject to bad
dreams and fearful visitations in the night, when the grizzly spectrum of old
Keldermeester would stand sentinel by his bedside, erect as a pump, his
enormous queue strutting out like the handle.
FOOTNOTES:
[46]
Ballad of Dragon of Wantley.

BOOK VI.
CONTAINING THE SECOND PART OF THE REIGN OF PETER THE
HEADSTRONG, AND HIS GALLANT ACHIEVEMENTS ON THE
DELAWARE.

CHAPTER I.

Hitherto, most venerable and courteous reader, have I shown thee the
administration of the valorous Stuyvesant, under the mild moonshine of
peace, or rather the grim tranquillity of awful expectation; but now the war-
drum rumbles from afar, the brazen trumpet brays its thrilling note, and the
rude clash of hostile arms speaks fearful prophecies of coming troubles. The
gallant warrior starts from soft repose—from golden visions and voluptuous
ease; where, in the dulcet "piping time of peace," he sought sweet solace
after all his toils. No more in Beauty's siren lap reclined he weaves fair
garlands for his lady's brows; no more entwines with flowers his shining
sword nor through the livelong lazy summer's day chants forth his love-sick
soul in madrigals. To manhood roused, he spurns the amorous flute, doffs
from his brawny back the robe of peace, and clothes his pampered limbs in
panoply of steel. O'er his dark brow, where late the myrtle waved, where
wanton roses breathed enervate love, he rears the beaming casque and
nodding plume; grasps the bright shield, and shakes the ponderous lance; or
mounts with eager pride his fiery steed, and burns for deeds of glorious
chivalry.
But soft, worthy reader! I would not have you imagine that any preux
chevalier, thus hideously begirt with iron, existed in the city of New
Amsterdam. This is but a lofty and gigantic mode, in which we heroic
writers always talk of war, thereby to give it a noble and imposing aspect;
equipping our warriors with bucklers, helms, and lances, and such-like
outlandish and obsolete weapons, the like of which perchance they had
never seen or heard of; in the same manner that a cunning statuary arrays a

modern general or an admiral in the accoutrements of a Cæsar or an
Alexander. The simple truth, then, of all this oratorical flourish is this: that
the valiant Peter Stuyvesant all of a sudden found it necessary to scour his
rusty blade, which too long had rusted in its scabbard, and prepare himself
to undergo those hardy toils of war, in which his mighty soul so much
delighted.
Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagination; or rather, I
behold his goodly portrait, which still hangs in the family mansion of the
Stuyvesants, arrayed in all the terrors of a true Dutch general. His
regimental coat of German blue, gorgeously decorated with a goodly show
of large brass buttons, reaching from his waistband to his chin; the
voluminous skirts turned up at the corners, and separating gallantly behind,
so as to display the seat of a sumptuous pair of brimstone-colored trunk-
breeches, a graceful style still prevalent among the warriors of our day, and
which is in conformity to the custom of ancient heroes, who scorned to
defend themselves in rear. His face, rendered exceeding terrible and warlike
by a pair of black mustachios; his hair strutting out on each side in stiffly
pomatumed ear-locks, and descending in a rat-tail queue below his waist; a
shining stock of black leather supporting his chin, and a little but fierce
cocked hat, stuck with a gallant and fiery air over his left eye. Such was the
chivalric port of Peter the Headstrong; and when he made a sudden halt,
planted himself firmly on his solid supporter, with his wooden leg inlaid
with silver a little in advance, in order to strengthen his position, his right
hand grasping a gold-headed cane, his left resting upon the pummel of his
sword, his head dressing spiritedly to the right, with a most appalling and
hard-favored frown upon his brow, he presented altogether one of the most
commanding, bitter-looking, and soldier-like figures that ever strutted upon
canvas. Proceed we now to inquire the cause of this warlike preparation.
In the preceding chapter we have spoken of the founding of Fort Casimir,
and of the merciless warfare waged by its commander upon cabbages,
sunflowers, and pumpkins, for want of better occasion to flesh his sword.
Now it came to pass that higher up the Delaware, at his stronghold of
Tinnekonk, resided one Jan Printz, who styled himself Governor of New
Sweden. If history belie not this redoubtable Swede, he was a rival worthy
of the windy and inflated commander of Fort Casimir; for Master David
Pieterzen de Vrie, in his excellent book of voyages, describes him as

"weighing upwards of four hundred pounds," a huge feeder, and bouser in
proportion, taking three potations, pottle-deep, at every meal. He had a
garrison after his own heart at Tinnekonk, guzzling, deep-drinking
swashbucklers, who made the wild woods ring with their carousals.
No sooner did this robustious commander hear of the erection of Fort
Casimir, than he sent a message to Van Poffenburgh, warning him off the
land, as being within the bounds of his jurisdiction.
To this General Van Poffenburgh replied that the land belonged to their
High Mightinesses, having been regularly purchased of the natives as
discoverers from the Manhattoes, as witness the breeches of their land
measurer, Ten Broeck.
To this the governor rejoined that the land had previously been sold by the
Indians to the Swedes, and consequently was under the petticoat
government of her Swedish majesty, Christina; and woe be to any mortal
that wore a breeches who should dare to meddle even with the hem of her
sacred garment.
I forbear to dilate upon the war of words which was kept up for some time
by these windy commanders; Van-Poffenburgh, however, had served under
William the Testy, and was a veteran in this kind of warfare. Governor
Printz, finding he was not to be dislodged by these long shots, now
determined upon coming to closer quarters. Accordingly he descended the
river in great force and fume, and erected a rival fortress just one Swedish
mile below Fort Casimir, to which he gave the name of Helsenburg.
And now commenced a tremendous rivalry between these two doughty
commanders, striving to outstrut and outswell each other, like a couple of
belligerent turkey-cocks. There was a contest who should run up the tallest
flag-staff and display the broadest flag; all day long there was a furious
rolling of drums and twanging of trumpets in either fortress, and, whichever
had the wind in its favor, would keep up a continual firing of cannon, to
taunt its antagonist with the smell of gunpowder.
On all these points of windy warfare the antagonists were well matched; but
so it happened that the Swedish fortress being lower down the river, all the
Dutch vessels, bound to Fort Casimir with supplies, had to pass it. Governor

Printz at once took advantage of this circumstance, and compelled them to
lower their flags as they passed under the guns of his battery.
This was a deadly wound to the Dutch pride of General Van Poffenburgh,
and sorely would he swell when from the ramparts of Fort Casimir he
beheld the flag of their High Mightinesses struck to the rival fortress. To
heighten his vexation, Governor Printz, who, as has been shown, was a
huge trencherman, took the liberty of having the first rummage of every
Dutch merchant-ship, and securing to himself and his guzzling garrison all
the little round Dutch cheeses, all the Dutch herrings, the gingerbread, the
sweetmeats, the curious stone jugs of gin, and all the other Dutch luxuries,
on their way for the solace of Fort Casimir. It is possible he may have paid
to the Dutch skippers the full value of their commodities, but what
consolation was this to Jacobus Van Poffenburgh and his garrison, who thus
found their favorite supplies cut off, and diverted into the larders of the
hostile camps? For some time this war of the cupboard was carried on to the
great festivity and jollification of the Swedes, while the warriors of Fort
Casimir found their hearts, or rather their stomachs, daily failing them. At
length the summer heats and summer showers set in, and now, lo and
behold! a great miracle was wrought for the relief of the Nederlands, not a
little resembling one of the plagues of Egypt; for it came to pass that a great
cloud of mosquitos arose out of the marshy borders of the river, and settled
upon the fortress of Helsenburg, being doubtless attracted by the scent of
the fresh blood of the Swedish gormandisers. Nay, it is said that the body of
Jan Printz alone, which was as big and as full of blood as that of a prize ox,
was sufficient to attract the mosquito from every part of the country. For
some time the garrison endeavored to hold out, but it was all in vain; the
mosquitos penetrated into every chink and crevice, and gave them no rest
day nor night; and as to Governor Jan Printz, he moved about as in a cloud,
with mosquito music in his ears, and mosquito stings to the very end of his
nose. Finally, the garrison was fairly driven out of the fortress, and obliged
to retreat to Tinnekonk; nay, it is said that the mosquitos followed Jan Printz
even thither, and absolutely drove him out of the country; certain it is, he
embarked for Sweden shortly afterward, and Jan Claudius Risingh was sent
to govern New Sweden in his stead.
Such was the famous mosquito war on the Delaware, of which General Van
Poffenburgh would fain have been the hero; but the devout people of the

Nieuw-Nederlands always ascribed the discomfiture of the Swedes to the
miraculous intervention of St. Nicholas. As to the fortress of Helsenburg, it
fell to ruin, but the story of its strange destruction was perpetuated by the
Swedish name of Myggen-borg, that is to say, Mosquito Castle.[47]
FOOTNOTES:
[47]
Acrelius' History N. Sweden. For some notices of this miraculous
discomfiture of the Swedes, see N.Y. Hist. Col., new series, vol.
i., p. 412.

CHAPTER II.

Jan Claudius Risingh, who succeeded to the command of New Sweden,
looms largely in ancient records as a gigantic Swede, who, had he not been
rather knock-kneed and splay-footed, might have served for the model of a
Samson or a Hercules. He was no less rapacious than mighty, and withal, as
crafty as he was rapacious, so that there is very little doubt that, had he
lived some four or five centuries since, he would have figured as one of
those wicked giants, who took a cruel pleasure in pocketing beautiful
princesses and distressed damsels, when gadding about the world, and
locking them up in enchanted castles, without a toilet, a change of linen, or
any other convenience. In consequence of which enormities they fell under
the high displeasure of chivalry, and all true, loyal, and gallant knights were
instructed to attack and slay outright any miscreant they might happen to
find above six feet high; which is doubtless one reason why the race of
large men is nearly extinct, and the generations of latter ages are so
exceedingly small.
Governor Risingh, not withstanding his giantly condition, was, as I have
hinted, a man of craft. He was not a man to ruffle the vanity of General Van
Poffenburgh, or to rub his self-conceit against the grain. On the contrary, as
he sailed up the Delaware, he paused before Fort Casimir, displayed his
flag, and fired a royal salute before dropping anchor. The salute would

doubtless have been returned, had not the guns been dismounted; as it was,
a veteran sentinel who had been napping at his post, and had suffered his
match to go out, returned the compliment by discharging his musket with
the spark of a pipe borrowed from a comrade. Governor Risingh accepted
this as a courteous reply, and treated the fortress to a second salute, well
knowing its commander was apt to be marvelously delighted with these
little ceremonials, considering them so many acts of homage paid to his
greatness. He then prepared to land with a military retinue of thirty men, a
prodigious pageant in the wilderness.
And now took place a terrible rummage and racket in Fort Casimir, to
receive such a visitor in proper style, and to make an imposing appearance.
The main guard was turned out as soon as possible, equipped to the best
advantage in the few suits of regimentals, which had to do duty, by turns,
with the whole garrison. One tall, lank fellow appeared in a little man's
coat, with the buttons between his shoulders; the skirts scarce covering his
bottom; his hands hanging like spades out of the sleeves; and the coat
linked in front by worsted loops made out of a pair of red garters. Another
had a cocked hat stuck on the back of his head, and decorated with a bunch
of cocks' tails; a third had a pair of rusty gaiters hanging about his heels;
while a fourth, a little duck-legged fellow, was equipped in a pair of the
general's cast-off breeches, which he held up with one hand while he
grasped his firelock with the other. The rest were accoutred in similar style,
excepting three ragamuffins without shirts, and with but a pair and a half of
breeches between them; wherefore they were sent to the black hole, to keep
them out of sight, that they might not disgrace the fortress.
His men being thus gallantly arrayed—those who lacked muskets
shouldering spades and pickaxes, and every man being ordered to tuck in
his shirttail and pull up his brogues—General Van Poffenburgh first took a
sturdy draught of foaming ale, which, like the magnanimous More, of More
Hall,[48] was his invariable practice on all great occasions; this done, he put
himself at their head, and issued forth from his castle like a mighty giant
just refreshed with wine. But when the two heroes met, then began a scene
of warlike parade that beggars all description. The shrewd Risingh, who had
grown grey much before his time, in consequence of his craftiness, saw at
one glance the ruling passion of the great Van Poffenburgh, and humored
him in all his valorous fantasies.

Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front of each other, they
carried arms and they presented arms, they gave the standing salute and the
passing salute, they rolled their drums, they flourished their fifes, and they
waved their colors; they faced to the left, and they faced to the right, and
they faced to the right about; they wheeled forward, and they wheeled
backward, and they wheeled into echelon; they marched and they
countermarched, by grand divisions, by single divisions, and by
subdivisions; by platoons, by sections, and by files; in quick time, in slow
time, and in no time at all; for, having gone through all the evolutions of
two great armies, including the eighteen manoeuvres of Dundas; having
exhausted all that they could recollect or image of military tactics, including
sundry strange and irregular evolutions, the like of which were never seen
before or since, excepting among certain of our newly-raised militia, the
two commanders and their respective troops came at length to a dead halt,
completely exhausted by the toils of war. Never did two valiant train-band
captains, or two buskined theatric heroes, in the renowned tragedies of
Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other heroical and fighting tragedy, marshal
their gallows-looking, duck-legged, heavy-heeled myrmidons with more
glory and self-admiration.
These military compliments being finished, General Van Poffenburgh
escorted his illustrious visitor, with great ceremony, into the fort, attended
him throughout the fortifications, showed him the horn-works, crown-
works, half-moons, and various other outworks, or rather the places where
they ought to be erected, and where they might be erected if he pleased;
plainly demonstrating that it was a place of "great capability," and though at
present but a little redoubt, yet that it was evidently a formidable fortress in
embryo. This survey over, he next had the whole garrison put under arms,
exercised, and reviewed, and concluded by ordering the three Bridewell
birds to be hauled out of the black hole, brought up to the halberds, and
soundly flogged for the amusement of his visitors, and to convince him that
he was a great disciplinarian.
The cunning Risingh, while he pretended to be struck dumb outright with
the puissance of the great Van Poffenburgh, took silent note of the
incompetency of his garrison, of which he gave a wink to his trusty
followers, who tipped each other the wink, and laughed most
obstreperously in their sleeves.

The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded, the party adjourned
to the table; for, among his other great qualities, the general was remarkably
addicted to huge carousals, and in one afternoon's campaign would leave
more dead men on the field than he ever did in the whole course of his
military career. Many bulletins of these bloodless victories do still remain
on record, and the whole province was once thrown in amaze by the return
of one of his campaigns, wherein it was stated, that though, like Captain
Bobadil, he had only twenty men to back him, yet in the short space of six
months he had conquered and utterly annihilated sixty oxen, ninety hogs,
one hundred sheep, ten thousand cabbages, one thousand bushels of
potatoes, one hundred and fifty kilderkins of small beer, two thousand
seven hundred and thirty-five pipes, seventy-eight pounds of sugar-plums,
and forty bars of iron, besides sundry small meats, game, poultry, and
garden stuff: an achievement unparalleled since the days of Pantagruel and
his all-devouring army, and which showed that it was only necessary to let
Van Poffenburgh and his garrison loose in an enemy's country, and in a little
while they would breed a famine, and starve all the inhabitants.
No sooner, therefore, had the general received intimation of the visit of
Governor Risingh, than he ordered a great dinner to be prepared, and
privately sent out a detachment of his most experienced veterans to rob all
the hen-roosts in the neighborhood, and lay the pigstyes under contribution:
a service which they discharged with such zeal and promptitude, that the
garrison table groaned under the weight of their spoils.
I wish, with all my heart, my readers could see the valiant Van Poffenburgh,
as he presided at the head of the banquet: it was a sight worth beholding:
there he sat in his greatest glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like that
famous wine-bibber, Alexander, whose thirsty virtues he did most ably
imitate, telling astounding stories of his hair-breadth adventures and heroic
exploits; at which, though all his auditors knew them to be incontinent lies
and outrageous gasconades, yet did they cast up their eyes in admiration,
and utter many interjections of astonishment. Nor could the general
pronounce anything that bore the remotest resemblance to a joke, but the
stout Risingh would strike his brawny fist upon the table till every glass
rattled again, throw himself back in the chair, utter gigantic peals of
laughter, and swear most horribly it was the best joke he ever heard in his
life. Thus all was rout and revelry and hideous carousal within Fort Casimir,

and so lustily did Van Poffenburgh ply the bottle, that in less than four short
hours he made himself and his whole garrison, who all sedulously emulated
the deeds of their chieftain, dead drunk, with singing songs, quaffing
bumpers, and drinking patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long as a
Welsh pedigree or a plea in Chancery.
No sooner did things come to this pass, than Risingh and his Swedes, who
had cunningly kept themselves sober, rose on their entertainers, tied them
neck and heels, and took formal possession of the fort and all its
dependencies, in the name of Queen Christina of Sweden, administering at
the same time an oath of allegiance to all the Dutch soldiers who could be
made sober enough to swallow it. Risingh then put the fortifications in
order, appointed his discreet and vigilant friend Suen Schute, otherwise
called Skytte, a tall, wind-dried, water-drinking Swede, to the command,
and departed, bearing with him this truly amiable garrison and its puissant
commander, who, when brought to himself by a sound drubbing, bore no
little resemblance to a "deboshed fish," or bloated sea-monster, caught upon
dry land.
The transportation of the garrison was done to prevent the transmission of
intelligence to New Amsterdam; for much as the cunning Risingh exulted in
his stratagem, yet did he dread the vengeance of the sturdy Peter
Stuyvesant, whose name spread as much terror in the neighborhood as did
whilom that of the unconquerable Scanderbeg among his scurvy enemies
the Turks.
FOOTNOTES:
[48]
"As soon as he rose,
To make him strong and mighty,
He drank by the tale, six pots of ale,
And a quart of aqua vitæ."
Dragon of Wantley.

CHAPTER III.

Whoever first described common fame, or rumor, as belonging to the sager
sex, was a very owl for shrewdness. She has in truth certain feminine
qualities to an astonishing degree, particularly that benevolent anxiety to
take care of the affairs of others, which keeps her continually hunting after
secrets and gadding about proclaiming them. Whatever is done openly and
in the face of the world, she takes but transient notice of; but whenever a
transaction is done in a corner, and attempted to be shrouded in mystery,
then her goddess-ship is at her wits' end to find it out, and takes a most
mischievous and lady-like pleasure in publishing it to the world.
It is this truly feminine propensity which induces her continually to be
prying into the cabinets of princes, listening at the key-holes of senate
chambers, and peering through chinks and crannies, when our worthy
congress are sitting with closed doors, deliberating between a dozen
excellent modes of ruining the nation. It is this which makes her so baneful
to all wary statesmen and intriguing commanders—such a stumbling-block
to private negotiations and secret expeditions; betraying them by means and
instruments which never would have been thought of by any but a female
head.
Thus it was in the case of the affair of Fort Casimir. No doubt the cunning
Risingh imagined, that, by securing the garrison he should for a long time
prevent the history of its fate from reaching the ears of the gallant
Stuyvesant; but his exploit was blown to the world when he least expected,
and by one of the last beings he would ever have suspected of enlisting as
trumpeter to the wide-mouthed deity.
This was one Dirk Schuiler (or Skulker), a kind of hanger-on to the
garrison, who seemed to belong to nobody, and in a manner to be self-
outlawed. He was one of those vagabond cosmopolites who shark about the
world, as if they had no right or business in it, and who infest the skirts of
society like poachers and interlopers. Every garrison and country village
has one or more scapegoats of this kind, whose life is a kind of enigma,
whose existence is without motive, who comes from the Lord knows where,
who lives the Lord knows how, and who seems created for no other earthly
purpose but to keep up the ancient and honorable order of idleness. This

vagrant philosopher was supposed to have some Indian blood in his veins,
which was manifested by a certain Indian complexion and cast of
countenance, but more especially by his propensities and habits. He was a
tall, lank fellow, swift of foot, and long-winded. He was generally equipped
in a half Indian dress, with belt, leggings, and moccasins. His hair hung in
straight gallows locks about his ears, and added not a little to his sharking
demeanor. It is an old remark, that persons of Indian mixture, are half
civilized, half savage, and half devil—a third half being provided for their
particular convenience. It is for similar reasons, and probably with equal
truth, that the backwoodsmen of Kentucky are styled half man, half horse,
and half alligator by the settlers on the Mississippi, and held accordingly in
great respect and abhorrence.
The above character may have presented itself to the garrison as applicable
to Dirk Schuiler, whom they familiarly dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is,
he acknowledged allegiance to no one—was an utter enemy to work,
holding it in no manner of estimation—but lounging about the fort,
depending upon chance for a subsistence, getting drunk whenever he could
get liquor, and stealing whatever he could lay his hands on. Every day or
two he was sure to get a sound rib-roasting for some of his misdemeanors;
which, however, as it broke no bones, he made very light of, and scrupled
not to repeat the offence whenever another opportunity presented.
Sometimes, in consequence of some flagrant villainy, he would abscond
from the garrison, and be absent for a month at a time; skulking about the
woods and swamps, with a long fowling-piece on his shoulder, lying in
ambush for game, or squatting himself down on the edge of a pond catching
fish for hours together, and bearing no little resemblance to that notable bird
of the crane family, yclept the mudpoke. When he thought his crimes had
been forgotten or forgiven, he would sneak back to the fort with a bundle of
skins or a load of poultry, which, perchance, he had stolen, and would
exchange them for liquor, with which having well soaked his carcase, he
would lie in the sun, and enjoy all the luxurious indolence of that swinish
philosopher Diogenes. He was the terror of all the farmyards in the country,
into which he made fearful inroads; and sometimes he would make his
sudden appearance in the garrison at daybreak, with the whole
neighborhood at his heels; like the scoundrel thief of a fox, detected in his
maraudings and hunted to his hole. Such was this Dirk Schuiler; and from