The Project Gutenberg eBook of Knickerbocker's history of New York, vol. 1 (of 2)
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: Knickerbocker's history of New York, vol. 1 (of 2)
Author: Washington Irving
Illustrator: Edward W. Kemble
Release date: February 13, 2026 [eBook #77921]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1893
Credits: Richard Tonsing, Charlene Taylor, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY OF NEW YORK, VOL. 1 (OF 2) ***
[Illustration: WILLIAM THE TESTY.]
Van Twiller Edition
=Knickerbocker’s History of New York=
=By=
=Washington Irving=
=With Illustrations=
=by=
=Edward W. Kemble=
=Vol I.=
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
NEW YORK LONDON
27 West Twenty-third St. 24 Bedford Street, Strand
=The Knickerbocker Press=
1894
COPYRIGHT, 1893
BY
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
=A History of New York=
=From the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty.
Containing, among Many Surprising and Curious Matters, the Unutterable
Ponderings of Walter the Doubter, the Disastrous Projects of William
the Testy, and the Chivalric Achievements of Peter the Headstrong; the
Three Dutch Governors of New Amsterdam, being the Only Authentic
History of the Times that Ever Hath Been or Ever Will Be Published=
=by=
=Diedrich Knickerbocker=
=De waarheid die in duister lag,
Die komt mit klaarheid aan den dag=
[Illustration: Wall-mounted pendulum clock centered within a decorative
border]
=Contents.=
PAGE
ORIGINAL ADVERTISEMENTS xv
THE AUTHOR’S APOLOGY 1
ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR 7
ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC 23
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.
CHAP. I.—Description of the World 35
CHAP. II.—Cosmogony, or Creation of the World; with a multitude of
excellent theories, by which the creation of a world is shown to
be no such difficult matter as common folk would imagine 46
CHAP. III.—How that famous navigator, Noah, was shamefully
nicknamed; and how he committed an unpardonable oversight in not
having four sons; with the great trouble of philosophers caused
thereby, and the discovery of America 61
CHAP. IV.—Showing the great difficulty philosophers have had in
peopling America; and how the Aborigines came to be begotten by
accident—to the great relief and satisfaction of the Author 72
CHAP. V.—In which the Author puts a mighty question to the rout,
by the assistance of the Man in the Moon—which not only delivers
thousands of people from great embarrassment, but likewise
concludes this introductory book 84
BOOK II.
TREATING OF THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF THE PROVINCE OF NIEUW-NEDERLANDTS.
CHAP. I.—In which are contained divers reasons why a man should
not write in a hurry; also, of Master Hendrick Hudson, his
discovery of a strange country,—and how he was magnificently
rewarded by the munificence of their High Mightinesses 113
CHAP. II.—Containing an account of a mighty Ark which floated,
under the protection of St. Nicholas, from Holland to Gibbet
Island,—the descent of the strange animals therefrom,—a great
victory, and a description of the ancient village of Communipaw 131
CHAP. III.—In which is set forth the true art of making a
bargain—together with the miraculous escape of a great
metropolis in a fog—and the biography of certain heroes of
Communipaw 142
CHAP. IV.—How the heroes of Communipaw voyaged to Hell-gate, and
how they were received there 156
CHAP. V.—How the heroes of Communipaw returned somewhat wiser than
they went—and how the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream—and the dream
that he dreamed 176
CHAP. VI.—Containing an attempt at etymology—and of the founding
of the great city of New Amsterdam 184
CHAP. VII.—How the people of Pavonia migrated from Communipaw to
the island of Manna-hata—and how Oloffe the Dreamer proved
himself a great land-speculator 189
CHAP. VIII.—Of the founding and naming of the new city; of the
City Arms; and of the direful feud between Ten Breeches and
Tough Breeches 194
CHAP. IX.—How the city of New Amsterdam waxed great under the
protection of St. Nicholas and the absence of laws and
statutes—How Oloffe the Dreamer begun to dream of an extension
of empire, and of the effect of his dreams 203
BOOK III.
IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE GOLDEN REIGN OF WOUTER VAN TWILLER.
CHAP. I.—Of the renowned Wouter Van Twiller, his unparalleled
virtues—as likewise his unutterable wisdom in the law-case of
Wandle Schoonhoven and Barent Bleecker—and the great admiration
of the public thereat 217
CHAP. II.—Containing some account of the grand council of New
Amsterdam, as also divers especial good philosophical reasons
why an alderman should be fat—with other particulars touching
the state of the province 232
CHAP. III.—How the town of New Amsterdam arose out of mud, and
came to be marvellously polished and polite—together with a
picture of the manners of our great-great-grandfathers 248
CHAP. IV.—Containing further particulars of the Golden Age, and
what constituted a fine lady and gentleman in the days of Walter
the Doubter 261
CHAP. V.—Of the founding of Fort Aurania—Of the mysteries of the
Hudson—Of the arrival of the Patroon Killian Van Rensellaer; his
lordly descent upon the earth, and his introduction of club-law 271
CHAP. VI.—In which the reader is beguiled into a delectable walk,
which ends very differently from what it commenced 277
CHAP. VII.—Faithfully describing the ingenious people of
Connecticut and thereabouts—showing, moreover, the true meaning
of liberty of conscience, and a curious device, among these
sturdy barbarians, to keep up a harmony of intercourse, and
promote population 286
CHAP. VIII.—How these singular barbarians turned out to be
notorious squatters—How they built air-castles, and attempted to
initiate the Nederlanders into the mystery of bundling 295
CHAP. IX.—How the Fort Goed Hoop was fearfully beleaguered—How the
renowned Wouter fell into a profound doubt, and how he finally
evaporated 304
BOOK IV.
CONTAINING THE CHRONICLES OF THE REIGN OF WILLIAM THE TESTY.
CHAP. I.—Showing the nature of history in general;—containing
furthermore the universal acquirements of William the Testy, and
how a man may learn so much as to render himself good for
nothing 317
CHAP. II.—How William the Testy undertook to conquer by
proclamation—How he was a great man abroad, but a little man in
his own house 326
CHAP. III.—In which are recorded the sage projects of a universal
genius—The art of fighting by proclamation—and how that the
valiant Jacobus Van Curlet came to be foully dishonored at Fort
Goed Hoop 332
CHAP. IV.—Containing the fearful wrath of William the Testy, and
the alarm of New Amsterdam—How the Governor did strongly fortify
the city—Of the Rise of Antony the Trumpeter, and the windy
addition to the armorial bearings of New Amsterdam 341
CHAP. V.—Of the jurisprudence of William the Testy, and his
admirable expedients for the suppression of poverty 349
CHAP. VI.—Projects of William the Testy for increasing the
currency—He is outwitted by the Yankees—The great Oyster War 357
[Illustration]
=Illustrations=
PAGE
WILLIAM THE TESTY _Frontispiece_
SUNNYSIDE 1
THE AUTHOR 9
“AND THAT A GREAT DRAGON OCCASIONALLY SWALLOWS UP THE
MOON” 37
PROFESSOR VON PODDINGCOFT 43
THE GREAT EGG OF NIGHT 51
THE GOOD DAME OF NARBONNE IN FRANCE 53
“MOUNT ASTRIDE OF HIS TAIL, AND AWAY HE GALLOPS IN
TRIUMPH” 57
FOHI THE HISTORIAN 63
HANS DE LAET 67
“SAVAGES TO EXTERMINATE” 70
THE PEOPLE OF NORTH AMERICA ACCORDING TO PETRI 77
“AS WHITE BEARS CRUISE ABOUT THE NORTHERN OCEANS” 81
“IT IS VAIN TO OFFER THEM MONEY; THEY SAY THEY ARE NOT
HUNGRY” 89
“THEY INTRODUCED AMONG THEM RUM, GIN, AND BRANDY” 95
THE SPANISH HAD THE RIGHT BY GUN-POWDER 99
THE HEADLESS MEN OF THE MOON VISIT US 101
“WHO RIDETH ON THE GREAT BEAR AND USETH THE SUN AS A
LOOKING-GLASS” 105
MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER TAKES A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW FROM THE
TOP OF A WIND-MILL 115
HENDRICK HUDSON 119
“EVERY MAN WAS ALLOWED TO SLEEP AT HIS POST UNLESS THE
WIND BLEW” 123
“A RED MAN CROWNED WITH FEATHERS ISSUED FROM ONE OF THE
GLENS” 127
“THEY ONE AND ALL TOOK TO THEIR HEELS, AND SCAMPERED
OVER THE BERGEN HILLS” 135
THE BROAD-MOUTHED LAUGHTER OF THE DUTCH NEGROES 139
“MADE THEM DRUNK WITH TRUE HOLLANDS” 143
THE OFFICIAL WEIGHT 145
OLOFFE VAN KORTLANDT 147
TOUGH BREECHES 153
“THEY BADE FAREWELL TO THE GAZING THRONG UPON THE BEACH” 159
“A SHOAL OF JOLLY PORPOISES CAME ROLLING AND TUMBLING
BY” 161
“AND TURNING AWAY HIS HEAD, FIRED IT MOST INTREPIDLY IN
THE FACE OF THE BLESSED SUN” 163
“ALONG THOSE SHORES” 169
“AND ANON THEY SEEMED SINKING INTO YAWNING GULFS” 171
THE DEVIL SITTING ASTRIDE OF THE HOG’S BACK AND PLAYING
ON A FIDDLE 173
TEN BROECK DRYING HIS BREECHES 179
“IN DIM OBSCURITY HE SAW SHADOWED OUT PALACES AND DOMES
AND LOFTY SPIRES” 181
MASTER JUET 187
MYNHEER TEN BROECK AS A LAND SURVEYOR 191
THE ARGUMENT 199
THE SECRETARY 201
ST. NICHOLAS 207
COOLING THE ARDOR OF THE ENEMY 209
HANS REINER OOTHOUT 213
“SET LIGHT-MINDED HEARERS IN A ROAR” 223
WOUTER VAN TWILLER 225
THE JUDGMENT OF WOUTER VAN TWILLER 229
THE FIVE BURGERMEESTERS 235
WELL-FED AND ROBUSTIOUS BURGHER 237
“HERE WOULD HE SMOKE HIS PIPE OF A SULTRY AFTERNOON” 243
“THE GOOD ST. NICHOLAS” 245
A COUNTRY MANSION 253
“SOME OLD CRONE OF A NEGRO” 255
“TOOK LEAVE OF THEM WITH A HEARTY SMACK AT THE DOOR” 259
“A VOLUMINOUS DAMSEL, ARRAYED IN A DOZEN OF PETTICOATS” 265
THE YOUNG GALLANT 269
KILLIAN VAN RENSELLAER 273
THE BATTERY 279
“SCAMPERING FROM THE STORM” 283
THE YANKEE’S SATURDAY’S DINNER OF DUMB-FISH 289
TARRED AND FEATHERED 293
“THE HORRIBLE MELODIES OF SOME AMATEUR, WHO CHOOSES TO
SERENADE THE MOON” 301
“BRISK, LIKELY, PLEASANT-TONGUED VARLETS” 303
JACOBUS VAN CURLET 307
THE PROTEST OF JACOBUS VAN CURLET 311
“HE PROCEEDED ON A LONG SWING-TROT THROUGH THE MUDDY
LANES” 313
THE POET AND HISTORIAN 319
WILLIAM THE TESTY 323
THE GREAT SEAL OF THE PROVINCE 329
KIDNAPPING HOGS 333
“THE WHOLE GARRISON OF FORT GOED HOOP STRAGGLING INTO
TOWN ALL TATTERED AND WAYWORN” 339
ANTHONY THE TRUMPETER 347
WILLIAM THE TESTY’S CURE FOR VAGRANCY 355
STOFFEL BRINKERHOFF 363
=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 would 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 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 travelling northward, and was very much
fatigued and exhausted.
A TRAVELLER.
_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 & BRADFORD have in 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 & BRADFORD, No. 128 Broadway,
A HISTORY OF NEW YORK,
&c., &c.
(Containing same as above.)
[Illustration]
[Illustration: SUNNYSIDE.]
A HISTORY OF NEW YORK
=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 handbook which had recently appeared, entitled _A Picture of New
York_. Like that, our work was to begin with 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
virtually 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 in which they were executed; and when I
find, after a lapse of nearly forty years, this hap-hazard 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 in 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.
W. I.
SUNNYSIDE, 1848.
=Account of the Author=
It was some time, if I recollect right, in the early part of the autumn
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 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 a full front of the Hospital; so that it
is the cheerfulest room in the whole house.
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR]
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 twelvemonth.
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 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 a 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; who, 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 Schaghtikoke,
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 Schaghtikoke,
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 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
spoken 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 valuable notes of his own.
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 travelled 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 Schaghtikoke. 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 light of letters-patent of nobility, establishing
their claims to ancestry,—which, in this republican country, is a matter
of no little solicitude and vainglory.
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 streets; 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 many
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.
Beside 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
his second edition.
Having passed some time very agreeably at Albany, our author proceeded
to Schaghtikoke, 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 Schaghtikoke, 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 post-office, in
consequence of the numerous letters 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 him in the
_Port Folio_, (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 Schaghtikoke, 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
overflowed, 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 who bore any
enmity towards him; for as to himself, he declared he died in good will
with all the world. And, after dictating several kind messages to his
relations at Schaghtikoke, as well as to several 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.
[Illustration]
=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 forever. 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. But
a little while, thought I, and those reverend 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 Bologne.
Determined, therefore, to avert if possible this threatened misfortune,
I industriously set myself to work, to gather together all the fragments
of our infant history which still existed, and like my reverend
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 but to 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 mention 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 this 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 marvellous 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 monument that will 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 traveller? They have sunk into dust and silence,—they
have perished from remembrance for want of an historian! The
philanthropist may weep over their desolation,—the poet may wander among
their mouldering arches and broken columns, and indulge the visionary
nights 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 the most of them the
time for recording their early history is gone by; their origin, their
foundation, together with the eventful period of their youth, are
forever 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 wide-spread, 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
forever! 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 vainglorious imaginings 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.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
=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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter I.=
DESCRIPTION OF THE WORLD.
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
centre, 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 may be many philosophers who have entertained very
different opinions; some, too, of them entitled to much deference from
their great antiquity and illustrious character. Thus it was advanced by
some of the ancient sages, that the earth was an extended plane,
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.
[Illustration: “AND THAT A GREAT DRAGON OCCASIONALLY SWALLOWS UP THE
MOON.”]
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 milk, nectar,
and other delicious liquids; that it is studded with seven mountains,
and ornamented in the centre 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 Cothbiddin, 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 constituting 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 ascribed 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 further 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 marvellously edified,
and departed considerably wiser than before.
[Illustration: PROFESSOR VON PODDINGCOFT.]
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 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 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 fulfilment of
their prognostics. But the untoward planet pertinaciously continued her
course, notwithstanding 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
causes 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.
=Chapter II.=
COSMOGONY, OR CREATION OF THE WORLD; WITH A MULTITUDE OF EXCELLENT
THEORIES, BY WHICH THE CREATION OF A WORLD IS SHOWN TO BE NO SUCH
DIFFICULT MATTER AS COMMON FOLK WOULD IMAGINE.
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 the
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.
Beside 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 marvellous 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 and 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, transforming
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.
[Illustration: THE GREAT EGG OF NIGHT.]
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 centre.
[Illustration: THE GOOD DAME OF NARBONNE IN FRANCE.]
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.
Whiston, the same ingenious philosopher who rivalled 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 gun-powder, 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
his tail, and away he gallops in triumph, like an enchanter on his
hyppogriff, or a Connecticut witch on her broomstick, “to sweep the
cobwebs out of the sky.”
[Illustration: “MOUNT ASTRIDE OF HIS TAIL, AND AWAY HE GALLOPS IN
TRIUMPH.”]
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 curvetings as was Phaeton of yore,
when he aspired to manage the chariot of Phœbus. 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 fagots; a
third, of more combustible disposition, threatens to throw his comet,
like a bomb-shell, 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 grownup 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 madman, 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 parcelled 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter III.=
HOW THAT FAMOUS NAVIGATOR, NOAH, WAS SHAMEFULLY NICKNAMED, AND HOW HE
COMMITTED AN UNPARDONABLE OVERSIGHT IN NOT HAVING FOUR SONS; WITH
THE GREAT TROUBLE OF PHILOSOPHERS CAUSED THEREBY, AND THE DISCOVERY
OF AMERICA.
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; 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 traveller 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 travelled 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. Shackford gives us the additional information, that the ark
rested on a mountain on the frontiers of China.
[Illustration: FOHI THE HISTORIAN.]
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 simple 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 a 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 marvellous, common to all
great travellers, 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 communicated 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!
[Illustration: HANS DE LAET.]
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 Phœnician 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 Biorn;
nor by Behem, the German navigator, as Mr. Otto has endeavored to prove
to the _savans_ 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 Christoval 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.
[Illustration: “SAVAGES TO EXTERMINATE.”]
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.=
SHOWING THE GREAT DIFFICULTY PHILOSOPHERS HAVE HAD IN PEOPLING
AMERICA; AND HOW THE ABORIGINES CAME TO BE BEGOTTEN BY ACCIDENT—TO
THE GREAT RELIEF AND SATISFACTION OF THE AUTHOR.
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 skepticism, 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 forever
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 anathematizes most heartily as “an
irksome agonizing 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. Vetablus and
Robertus 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 key-stone of an arch, gives it, in their opinion, perpetual
durability.
Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly superstructure, than
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 affected 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 Mango 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, Rudbeck 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 Compte to the Phœnicians, Postel to the
Moors, Martyn d’Angleria to the Abyssinians, together with the sage
surmise of De Laet, that England, Ireland, and the Orcades may contend
for that honor.
[Illustration: THE PEOPLE OF NORTH AMERICA ACCORDING TO PETRI.]
Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to the idea that America
is the fairy region of Zipangri, described by that dreaming traveller,
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 from 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 hypothetical 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 the
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 travellers, 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 aëronauts 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.
[Illustration: “AS WHITE BEARS CRUISE ABOUT THE NORTHERN OCEANS.”]
But there is still one more 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 eyewitnesses 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 forever at rest.
[Illustration]
=Chapter V.=
IN WHICH THE AUTHOR PUTS A MIGHTY QUESTION TO THE ROUT, BY THE
ASSISTANCE OF THE MAN IN THE MOON,—WHICH NOT ONLY DELIVERS THOUSANDS
OF PEOPLE FROM GREAT EMBARRASSMENT, BUT LIKEWISE CONCLUDES THIS
INTRODUCTORY BOOK.
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 consciences.
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 men. 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 a human countenance, uttering certain unintelligible
sounds, very much like language; in short, had a marvellous 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 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, Ulloa 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. Bouguer. “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 Vanegas 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.”
[Illustration: “IT IS VAIN TO OFFER THEM MONEY; THEY SAY THEY ARE NOT
HUNGRY.”]
Now all these peculiarities, although in the most 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 newcomers 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 learned 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 Romish
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 practise the true religion,—except indeed
that of setting them the example.
[Illustration: “THEY INTRODUCED AMONG THEM RUM, GIN, AND BRANDY.”]
But notwithstanding 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 forever 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
fagot; 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 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 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 prosecuted, 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 another, 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, or, in
other words, the RIGHT BY GUN-POWDER.
But lest any scruples of conscience should remain on this head, and to
settle the question of right forever, his holiness Pope Alexander VI.
issued a 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
prosecuted the work of discovery, colonization, civilization, and
extermination with ten times more fury than ever.
[Illustration: THE SPANISH HAD THE RIGHT BY GUN-POWDER.]
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 forever, 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 lunar
philosophy, the mere flickerings of which have of late years dazzled the
feeble 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 aërial voyage of
discovery among the stars, should chance to alight upon this outlandish
planet.
[Illustration: THE HEADLESS MEN OF THE MOON VISIT US.]
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 and 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 natives. We have already discovered the art of coasting along
the aërial 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 aërial 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 aërial
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 hyppogriffs,—defended with impenetrable
armor,—armed with concentrated sunbeams, and provided with vast engines,
to hurl enormous moon-stones: 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 gun-powder, 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 aërial 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 unrivalled 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 presence, 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.
[Illustration: “WHO RIDETH ON THE GREAT BEAR AND USETH THE SUN AS A
LOOKING-GLASS.”]
“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
naught 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 whilom 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 authorized 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 hyppogriffs, transfix
us with concentrated sunbeams, demolish our cities with moon-stones;
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
wildernesses 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.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
=Book II.=
TREATING OF THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF THE PROVINCE OF NIEUW-NEDERLANDTS.
[Illustration]
=Chapter I.=
IN WHICH ARE CONTAINED DIVERS REASONS WHY A MAN SHOULD NOT WRITE IN A
HURRY; ALSO, OF MASTER HENDRICK HUDSON, HIS DISCOVERY OF A STRANGE
COUNTRY,—AND HOW HE WAS MAGNIFICENTLY REWARDED BY THE MUNIFICENCE OF
THEIR HIGH MIGHTINESSES.
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
hundred-weight 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
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 would he 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 wind-mills 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 travelled over all Holland, and even taken a
peep into France and Germany,—having smoked five hundred and ninety-nine
pipes, and three hundred-weight 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
presence of the whole multitude—just at the commencement of the
thirteenth month.
[Illustration: MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER TAKES A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW FROM THE TOP
OF A WIND-MILL.]
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 folks 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 prattling of a tin trumpet,—owing to the
number of hard northwesters 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 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 spelled
_Chewit_, and ascribed to the circumstances 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 that the commodore first derived his bias towards a seafaring
life. Certain it is that the old people about Limehouse declared Robert
Juet to be an unlucky urchin, prone to mischief, that would one day or
other come to the gallows.
[Illustration: HENDRICK HUDSON.]
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 lover’s knots 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 on
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 sourkrout, and every man was allowed to sleep quietly at his
post unless the wind blew. True it is, some slight disaffection 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]
[Illustration: “EVERY MAN WAS ALLOWED TO SLEEP AT HIS POST UNLESS THE
WIND BLEW.”]
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
forever, in ever new and never-ending beauties.” The island of Mannhata
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 redman crowned with feathers issued from one of
these glens, and after contemplating in 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 Blome, 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 out to
be the much looked-for passage to China!
[Illustration: “A RED MAN CROWNED WITH FEATHERS ISSUED FROM ONE OF THESE
GLENS.”]
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
school-fellow, 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 aqua 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 aborde 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 roysters, 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 Dutchmen
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 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter II.=
CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF A MIGHTY ARK WHICH FLOATED, UNDER THE
PROTECTION OF ST. NICHOLAS, FROM HOLLAND TO GIBBET ISLAND,—THE
DESCENT OF THE STRANGE ANIMALS THEREFROM,—A GREAT VICTORY, AND A
DESCRIPTION OF THE ANCIENT VILLAGE OF COMMUNIPAW.
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 improved 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 country-women.
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
tafferel. 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 bowsprit. Thus gallantly furnished, the
stanch 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, rang a triple bob-major 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 ahead as when it was a-poop,—and
was particularly great in a calm; in consequence of which singular
advantages 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
despatched 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 centre of the salt marshes a little to the east of the Newark
Causeway.
[Illustration: “THEY ONE AND ALL TOOK TO THEIR HEELS, AND SCAMPERED OVER
THE BERGEN HILLS.”]
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,
notwithstanding 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, notwithstanding 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 of 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 or 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.
[Illustration: THE BROAD-MOUTHED LAUGHTER OF THE DUTCH NEGROES.]
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,
who they imagine is still sweeping the British channel, with a broom at
his mast-head.
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 handsaw.
[Illustration]
=Chapter III.=
IN WHICH IS SET FORTH THE TRUE ART OF MAKING A BARGAIN—TOGETHER WITH
THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE OF A GREAT METROPOLIS IN A FOG—AND THE
BIOGRAPHY OF CERTAIN HEROES OF COMMUNIPAW.
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 newcomers. 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, mynher_,—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.
[Illustration: “MADE THEM DRUNK WITH TRUE HOLLANDS.”]
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 were 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.
[Illustration: THE OFFICIAL WEIGHT.]
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.
[Illustration: OLOFFE VAN KORTLANDT.]
Upon the departure of the enemy, our worthy ancestors took full six
months to recover their wind and get over the consternation into which
they had been thrown. They then called a council of safety to smoke over
the state of the province. At this council presided one Oloffe Van
Kortlandt, a personage who was held in great reverence among the sages
of Communipaw for the variety and darkness of his knowledge. He 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. He was the first great land-speculator
that we read of in these parts.
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 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 off 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 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. For my own part, I am disposed to place the
same implicit faith in the vision of Oloffe the Dreamer that was
manifested by the honest burghers of Communipaw, who one and all agreed
that an expedition should be forthwith fitted out to go on a voyage of
discovery in quest of a new seat of empire.
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 off-scourings 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 skeptical, 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 sand_, or, in common parlance, from the dirt, gave reason
to suppose that, like Triptolemus, Themes, the Cyclops, and the Titans,
he had sprung from Dame Terra, on 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: that is to say, Hard in the Breech, or,
as it was generally rendered, 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.”
[Illustration: TOUGH BREECHES.]
The name of Ten Broeck, or, as it was sometimes spelled, Tin Broeck, has
been indifferently translated into Ten Breeches and Tin Breeches.
Certain 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 more accurate 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
Tappaan Zee.
[Illustration]
=Chapter IV.=
HOW THE HEROES OF COMMUNIPAW VOYAGED TO HELL-GATE, AND HOW THEY WERE
RECEIVED THERE.
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 goosequill, 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 Phœbus 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 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.
[Illustration: “THEY BADE FAREWELL TO THE GAZING THRONG UPON THE
BEACH.”]
And first they touched at two small islands which lay 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 basis 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 then 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.
[Illustration: “A SHOAL OF JOLLY PORPOISES CAME ROLLING AND TUMBLING
BY.”]
Turning, therefore, directly to the left, they swept up the strait
vulgarly called 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 fulfil 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 undulated surface
of the bay.
[Illustration: “AND TURNING AWAY HIS HEAD, FIRED IT MOST INTREPIDLY IN
THE FACE OF THE BLESSED SUN.”]
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 very 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 pepper-corn at the sumptuous prospect of rich unsettled country around
him, and falling into a delicious revery, 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 alderman 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
deliberative 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 Harden Broecks and the Ten
Broecks, 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, counselled 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 Harden Broecks unto
this very day.
By this time the jolly Phœbus, 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-hatta; 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 revelled 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 lovers’ 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 the 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
watermelon 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,
Morrisania, and East Chester. Here the eye reposed with delight on a
richly wooded 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.
[Illustration: “ALONG THOSE SHORES.”]
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 scenes 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 horrific 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!
[Illustration: “AND ANON THEY SEEMED SINKING INTO YAWNING GULFS.”]
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 spectres 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!
[Illustration: THE DEVIL SITTING ASTRIDE OF THE HOG’S BACK AND PLAYING
ON A FIDDLE.]
These, however, were considered by many as mere fantasies 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
marvellous 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter V.=
HOW THE HEROES OF COMMUNIPAW RETURNED SOMEWHAT WISER THAN THEY
WENT—AND HOW THE SAGE OLOFFE DREAMED A DREAM—AND THE DREAM THAT HE
DREAMED.
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 woe-begone heroes of Communipaw eyed each other with rueful
countenances; their squadron 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 Haarlem, 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 elements, 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.
[Illustration: TEN BROECK DRYING HIS BREECHES.]
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 himself 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.
[Illustration: “IN DIM OBSCURITY HE SAW SHADOWED OUT PALACES AND DOMES
AND LOFTY SPIRES.”]
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 marvellous
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
tree-tops 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.=
CONTAINING AN ATTEMPT AT ETYMOLOGY—AND OF THE FOUNDING OF THE GREAT
CITY OF NEW AMSTERDAM.
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 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.
[Illustration: MASTER JUET.]
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]
[Illustration]
=Chapter VII.=
HOW THE PEOPLE OF PAVONIA MIGRATED FROM COMMUNIPAW TO THE ISLAND OF
MANNA-HATTA—AND HOW OLOFFE THE DREAMER PROVED HIMSELF A GREAT
LAND-SPECULATOR
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 was 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
housewives 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.
[Illustration: MYNHEER TEN BROECK AS A LAND SURVEYOR.]
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 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’-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 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
afterwards exercised in the colony.
=Chapter VIII.=
ON THE FOUNDING AND NAMING OF THE NEW CITY; OF THE CITY ARMS; AND OF
THE DIREFUL FEUD BETWEEN TEN BREECHES AND TOUGH BREECHES.
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
Cortlandt) 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 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 appellation 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
Amsterdammers.
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 held 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 towns 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-boned 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 busy-body 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 forever after,
and a similar breech with that between the houses of Capulet and
Montague did ensue between the families of Ten Breeches and Tough
Breeches.
[Illustration: THE ARGUMENT]
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
subsequent 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.
[Illustration: THE SECRETARY.]
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.=
HOW THE CITY OF NEW AMSTERDAM WAXED GREAT UNDER THE PROTECTION OF ST.
NICHOLAS AND THE ABSENCE OF LAWS AND STATUTES—HOW OLOFFE THE DREAMER
BEGAN TO DREAM OF AN EXTENSION OF EMPIRE, AND OF THE EFFECT OF HIS
DREAMS.
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 ever 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 bowsprit of the _Goede Vrouw_,
was elevated in front of this chapel, in the centre 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 indigestion,—an
invaluable relic in this colony of brave trencher-men. 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.
[Illustration: ST. NICHOLAS.]
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.
[Illustration: COOLING THE ARDOR OF THE ENEMY.]
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 time 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 centre
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 results 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 tarpauling, 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 Hoep (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.
[Illustration: HANS REINIER OOTHOUT.]
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 afterpages of this eventful history;
sufficient for the present is it to say that the swelling importance of
the New Netherlands 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.
[Illustration]
=Book III.=
IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE GOLDEN REIGN OF WOUTER VAN TWILLER
[Illustration]
=Chapter I.=
OF THE RENOWNED WOUTER VAN TWILLER, HIS UNPARALLELED VIRTUES—AS
LIKEWISE HIS UNUTTERABLE WISDOM IN THE LAW-CASE OF WANDLE
SCHOONHOVEN AND BARENT BLEECKER—AND THE GREAT ADMIRATION OF THE
PUBLIC THEREAT.
Grievous and very much to be commiserated is the task of the feeling
historian, who writes the history of his native land. If it fall 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 forever! 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 spirit. 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 forever!
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
mouldered 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 a 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 attentions
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 the great landed estate on the banks of the
Hudson; having virtually forfeited all fight 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 Nederlandts 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 boblincon 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
comported 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_.
[Illustration: “SET LIGHT-MINDED HEARERS IN A ROAR.”]
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.
[Illustration: WOUTER VAN TWILLER.]
VOL. 1—15
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 a 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 sceptre, 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
shovelled a spoonful of Indian pudding into his mouth,—either as a sign
that he relished the dish, or comprehended the story,—he called unto him
his constable, and pulling out of his breeches-pocket a huge jackknife,
despatched it after the defendant as a summons, accompanied by his
tobacco-box as a warrant.
[Illustration: THE JUDGEMENT OF WOUTER VAN TWILLER.]
This summary process was as effectual in those simple days as was the
seal-ring of the great Haroun-al-Raschid 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 marvellous
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.
The 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter II.=
CONTAINING SOME ACCOUNT OF THE GRAND COUNCIL OF NEW AMSTERDAM, AS ALSO
DIVERS ESPECIAL GOOD PHILOSOPHICAL REASONS WHY AN ALDERMAN SHOULD BE
FAT—WITH OTHER PARTICULARS TOUCHING THE STATE OF THE PROVINCE.
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, subdevils, 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 councilboard, 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 junketings and public gormandizings 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 houndlike pack of catchpolls 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.
[Illustration: THE FIVE BURGERMEESTERS.]
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, unwieldy periphery is ever attended by a mind like itself,
tranquil, torpid, and at ease; and we may always 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.
[Illustration: WELL-FED AND ROBUSTIOUS BURGHER.]
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 bed-chamber,
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 likely to perform its functions with
regularity 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, slyly peeping out of the loop-holes 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 aldermen 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 race-horse 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 farm-yard 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 frolicsome
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.
[Illustration: “HERE WOULD HE SMOKE HIS PIPE OF A SULTRY AFTERNOON.”]
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 that community, and the sage Van Twiller always signed his
name with a cross.
[Illustration: “THE GOOD ST. NICHOLAS.”]
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 vainglory, 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
tree-tops, or over the roofs of the 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 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 was 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.=
HOW THE TOWN OF NEW AMSTERDAM AROSE OUT OF MUD, AND CAME TO BE
MARVELLOUSLY POLISHED AND POLITE—TOGETHER WITH A PICTURE OF THE
MANNERS OF OUR GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHERS.
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 gun-powder
and carnage. Others, who are of a less martial, but equally ardent
imagination, and who, withal, are a little given to the marvellous, 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 catalogue
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 on 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 hunting 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 stanch 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.
[Illustration: A COUNTRY MANSION.]
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 new bunch of evergreens in the
fireplace,—the windowshutters 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.
[Illustration: “SOME OLD CRONE OF A NEGRO.”]
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 in 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 a corner of the 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
singularly averse to giving dinners, yet they kept up the social bands
of intimacy by occasional banquetings, 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 wagons. The company commonly assembled at three o’clock, and
went away about six, unless it was in wintertime, 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 Delft tea-pot, 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 divertisements of smart
young gentlemen, with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young
ladies seated themselves demurely in their rush-bottom 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.
[Illustration: “TOOK LEAVE OF THEM WITH A HEARTY SMACK AT THE DOOR.”]
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 deference in their
descendants to say a word against it.
[Illustration]
=Chapter IV.=
CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS OF THE GOLDEN AGE, AND WHAT CONSTITUTED
A FINE LADY AND GENTLEMAN IN THE DAYS OF WALTER THE DOUBTER.
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 gray-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
pomatumed 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 staid 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
pin-cushions 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
of 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 days 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.
[Illustration: “A VOLUMINOUS DAMSEL, ARRAYED IN A DOZEN OF PETTICOATS.”]
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
Kamtchatka 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 needle-work, 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 hustlecap
and chuck-farthing; swore, boxed, fought cocks, and raced their
neighbors’ 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 lowcrowned broad-rimmed hat overshadowed his burly
visage; and his hair dangled down his back in a prodigious queue of
eel-skin.
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 Delft 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 with ribald
street-walkers or vagabond boys,—those unlucky urchins who do so infest
our streets, displaying, under the roses of youth, the thorns and briers
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-woolseys, equal at least to the seven bull-hides of the
invincible Ajax?
[Illustration: THE YOUNG GALLANT.]
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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter V.=
ON THE FOUNDING OF FORT AURANIA—OF THE MYSTERIES OF THE HUDSON—OF THE
ARRIVAL OF THE PATROON KILLIAN VAN RENSELLAER; HIS LORDLY DESCENT
UPON THE EARTH, AND HIS INTRODUCTION OF CLUB-LAW.
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 that 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 Tappaan Zee,
of hobgoblins in the Highlands and at the Devil’s Dans 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 example.
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-bottomed and high-pooped, and bore the flag of
their High Mightinesses at the mast-head.
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 meagre face,
furnished with huge moustaches. 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 High Mightinesses the Lords States-General, in the upper regions
of the Hudson.
[Illustration: KILLIAN VAN RENSELLAER.]
Killian Van Rensellaer was a nine days’ 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 eye
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 of
New Amsterdam.
All these assumptions of authority were duly reported to Governor Van
Twiller and his council, by despatches 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 usual 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 Bearn or Bear’s Island, where
he was erecting a fortress, to be called by the lordly name of
Rensellaerstein.
Wouter Van Twiller was roused by this intelligence. After consulting
with his burgomasters, he despatched 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
Rensellaerstein, about which I foresee I shall have something to record
in a future chapter of this most eventful history.
[Illustration]
=Chapter VI.=
IN WHICH THE READER IS BEGUILED INTO A DELECTABLE WALK, WHICH ENDS
VERY DIFFERENTLY FROM WHAT IT COMMENCED.
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 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
custom-house 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, confirmed their martial
deeds to frowns alone. The mud breastworks had long been levelled 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 gun-powder and
defiance to the world!
[Illustration: THE BATTERY.]
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 endeavored 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 Manna-hata 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 their _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.
[Illustration: “SCAMPERING FROM THE STORM.”]
Whether I fled from the fury of the storm, or remained boldly 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 merely 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 its 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter VII.=
FAITHFULLY DESCRIBING THE INGENIOUS PEOPLE OF CONNECTICUT AND
THEREABOUTS—SHOWING, MOREOVER, THE TRUE MEANING OF LIBERTY OF
CONSCIENCE, AND A CURIOUS DEVICE AMONG THESE STURDY BARBARIANS TO
KEEP UP A HARMONY OF INTERCOURSE, AND PROMOTE POPULATION.
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 forever
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 exhorted without mercy and
without success,—until the 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 marvellous, 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.
[Illustration: THE YANKEE’S SATURDAY’S DINNER OF DUMB-FISH.]
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 Massachusetts) 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 infectious
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 rotteneggs,—and our council of appointment, but a grand
_auto-da-fé_, 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 notwithstanding 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 any wise hindered thereby; on
the contrary, they multiplied to a degree which would be incredible to
any man unacquainted with the marvellous fecundity of this growing
country.
[Illustration: TARRED AND FEATHERED.]
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 licence 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 whoreson whalers,
wood-cutters, fisherman, and peddlers, and strapping corn-fed
wenches,—who by their united efforts tended marvellously towards
peopling those notable tracts of country called Nantucket, Piscataway,
and Cape Cod.
[Illustration]
=Chapter VIII.=
HOW THESE SINGULAR BARBARIANS TURNED OUT TO BE NOTORIOUS SQUATTERS—HOW
THEY BUILT AIR-CASTLES, AND ATTEMPTED TO INITIATE THE NEDERLANDERS
INTO THE MYSTERY OF BUNDLING.
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 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
tortoise-shell 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 peddler 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 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 ever did 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 is exhausted, so that he barely
manages to furnish 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 aërial palace, and play as many unruly gambols as
they did of yore in the cave of old Æolus.
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 New Netherlands; and my readers
may easily imagine what uncomfortable neighbors this lighthearted 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 pup-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.
[Illustration: “THE HORRIBLE MELODIES OF SOME AMATEUR, WHO CHOOSES TO
SERENADE THE MOON.”]
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 of _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 licence, 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 land-holders, and which is given to those enterprising
worthies who seize upon land first, and take their chance to make good
their title to it afterwards.
All these grievances, and many others which were constantly
accumulating, tended to form that dark and portentous 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 it had grown to be an ox.
[Illustration: “BRISK, LIKELY, PLEASANT-TONGUED VARLETS.”]
=Chapter IX.=
HOW THE FORT GOED HOOP WAS FEARFULLY BELEAGUERED—HOW THE RENOWNED
WOUTER FELL INTO A PROFOUND DOUBT, AND HOW HE FINALLY EVAPORATED.
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 case, 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 of 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
these quarters, and have shown the honest people of Nieuw Nederlandts 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.
[Illustration: JACOBUS VAN CURLET.]
But notwithstanding 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 despatched 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 that
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
court-house 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 protest 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 hare-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 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.
[Illustration: THE PROTEST OF JACOBUS VAN CURLET.]
This crying injustice was regarded with proper indignation by the
gallant Jacobus Van Curlet. He absolutely trembled with the violence of
his 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 abatis; after which he despatched a fresh courier
with accounts of his perilous situation.
The courier chosen to bear the despatches 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
travelling-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 door-keeper, 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.
[Illustration: “HE PROCEEDED ON A LONG SWING-TROT THROUGH THE MUDDY
LANES.”]
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 despatches, 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter I.=
SHOWING THE NATURE OF HISTORY IN GENERAL; CONTAINING FURTHERMORE THE
UNIVERSAL ACQUIREMENTS OF WILLIAM THE TESTY, AND HOW A MAN MAY LEARN
SO MUCH AS TO RENDER HIMSELF GOOD FOR NOTHING.
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 exceeding 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 Goed Hoop, 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 fellowman? 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 defenceless, 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 historian 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.
[Illustration: THE POET AND HISTORIAN.]
It is a source of great delight to the philosopher, 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 forever 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 wind-mills 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 forever. 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 rush-light 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 apothegms, 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.
[Illustration: WILLIAM THE TESTY.]
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 Bowerie 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 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 at 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter II.=
HOW WILLIAM THE TESTY UNDERTOOK TO CONQUER BY PROCLAMATION—HOW HE WAS
A GREAT MAN ABROAD, BUT A LITTLE MAN IN HIS OWN HOUSE.
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 a
public 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
orator, treated 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 in
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 of 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. Still, after all, it was but an
instrument in writing. 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 a 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.
[Illustration: THE GREAT SEAL OF THE PROVINCE.]
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 despatched 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 nor 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_.”
[Illustration]
=Chapter III.=
IN WHICH ARE RECORDED THE SAGE PROJECTS OF A RULER OF UNIVERSAL
GENIUS—THE ART OF FIGHTING BY PROCLAMATION—AND HOW THAT THE VALIANT
JACOBUS VAN CURLET CAME TO BE FOULLY DISHONORED AT FORT GOED HOOP.
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.
[Illustration: KIDNAPPING HOGS.]
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 eye-sore to
Jacobus Van Curlet and his garrison; but now these moss-troopers
increased in their atrocities, kidnapping hogs, impounding horses, and
sometimes grievously rib-roasting their owners. Our worthy forefathers
could scarcely stir abroad without danger of being out-jockeyed in
horse-flesh, or taken in in bargaining; while, in their absence, some
daring Yankee peddler would penetrate to their household, and nearly
ruin the good housewives with tin ware 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 carcass 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 further, 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 wit’s end, that an historian
would ever arise, and give them their own, with interest. Since, then, I
am but performing my bounden duty as an historian, in avenging the
wrongs of our revered 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
operation, yet when it once began to work, it would soon purge the land
of these 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 naught by the young folks of both sexes, if we may judge by the
active bundling which took place along the borders.
At length, one day the 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 Goed Hoop straggling into town all tattered
and wayworn, with Jacobus Van Curlet at their head, bringing the
melancholy intelligence of the capture of Fort Goed Hoop 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 overeaten 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 noontide of a
sultry summer’s day, and surprised them in the midst of their slumbers.
[Illustration: “THE WHOLE GARRISON OF FORT GOED HOOP STRAGGLING INTO
TOWN ALL TATTERED AND WAYWORN.”]
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 by 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter IV.=
CONTAINING THE FEARFUL WRATH OF WILLIAM THE TESTY, AND THE ALARM OF
NEW AMSTERDAM—HOW THE GOVERNOR DID STRONGLY FORTIFY THE CITY—OF THE
RISE OF ANTONY THE TRUMPETER, AND THE WINDY ADDITION TO THE ARMORIAL
BEARINGS OF NEW AMSTERDAM.
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 once into his
gullet. At length his words found vent, and for three days he kept up a
constant discharge, anathematizing the Yankees, man, woman, and child,
for a set of dieven, schobbejacken, deugenieten, twistzoekeren,
blaes-kaken, loosen-schalken, kakken-bedden, and a thousand other names,
of which, unfortunately for posterity, history does not 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 around 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 centre of the fort, and perching a wind-mill 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 gray 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 about this time there lived in Manhattoes a
jolly, robustious trumpeter, named Antony 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
_bowerie_, or retreat, in the country, where he led a roistering 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 Antony the
Trumpeter to the post of commandant of wind-mills 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 Antony 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 that 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 Nederlanders 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 Antony
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 wind-mills: 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.
[Illustration: ANTONY THE TRUMPETER.]
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 wind-mill 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter V.=
ON THE JURISPRUDENCE OF WILLIAM THE TESTY, AND HIS ADMIRABLE
EXPEDIENTS FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF POVERTY.
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
litigious, 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 forever, 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 awakes 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 imbitter 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 forever 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.
It is incredible how the little governor chuckled at beholding caitiff
vagrants and sturdy beggars thus swinging by the crupper, and cutting
antic gambols in the air. He had a thousand pleasantries and mirthful
conceits to utter upon these occasions. He called them his
dandelions—his wild-fowl—his high-fliers—his spread-eagles—his
goshawks—his scarecrows—and finally, his _gallows-birds_; which
ingenious appellation, though originally confined to worthies who had
taken the air in this strange manner, has since grown to be a cant name
given to all candidates for legal elevation. This punishment, moreover,
if we may credit the assertions of certain grave etymologists, gave the
first hint for a kind of harnessing, or strapping, by which our
forefathers braced up their multifarious breeches, and which has of late
years been revived, and continues to be worn at the present day.
[Illustration: WILLIAM THE TESTY’S CURE FOR VAGRANCY.]
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 inclosed 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.
[Illustration]
=Chapter VI.=
PROJECTS OF WILLIAM THE TESTY FOR INCREASING THE CURRENCY—HE IS
OUTWITTED BY THE YANKEES—THE GREAT OYSTER WAR.
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 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 tin ware 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 in
exchange 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 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 intrusted 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 Hardscramble Hill and Hungry Hollow, and that others lost heart
and turned back at Pusspanick. 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 Zerubabbel
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 “selectmen” 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.
[Illustration: STOFFEL BRINKERHOFF.]
The procession was accompanied by a full band of boys and negroes,
performing on the popular instruments of rattle-bones and clam-shells,
while Antony 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 general with public
statutes, passed a magnanimous decree, by which every tavern-keeper was
permitted to paint the head of Stoffel Brinkerhoff upon his sign!
END OF VOLUME I.
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 1:
Beloe’s _Herodotus_.
Footnote 2:
Faria y Souza. _Mick. Lus._, note b. 7.
Footnote 3:
Sir W. Jones, _Diss. Antiq. Ind. Zod._
Footnote 4:
MSS. Bibliot. Roi Fr.
Footnote 5:
Plutarch, _De Placitis Philosoph._, lib. ii., cap. 20.
Footnote 6:
Achill. _Tat._, _Isag._, cap. 19. _Ap. Petav._, t. iii., p. 81. Stob.,
_Eclog. Phys._, lib. i., p. 56. Plut., _De Plac. Phil._
Footnote 7:
Diogenes Laetius in Anaxag., lib., ii., sec. 8. Plat., _Apol._, t. i.,
p. 26. Plut., _De Plac. Phil._ Xenoph., _Mem._, lib. iv., p. 815.
Footnote 8:
Aristot., _Meteor._, lib. ii., cap. 2. _Idem._, _Probl._, sec. 15,
Stob., _Ecl. Phys._, lib. i., p. 55. Bruck., _Hist. Phil._, t. i., p.
1154, etc.
Footnote 9:
_Philos. Trans._, 1795, p. 72. _Idem_, 1801, p. 265. Nich., _Philos.
Journ._, i., p. 13.
Footnote 10:
Aristot., _Ap. Cic._, lib. i., cap. 3.
Footnote 11:
Aristot., _Metaph._, lib. i., cap. 5. Idem, _De Cœlo_, lib. iii., cap
1. Rousseau, _Mem. sur Musique Ancien_, p. 39. Plutarch, _De Plac.
Phil._, lib. i., cap. 3.
Footnote 12:
Tim., _Locr. ap. Plato._, t. iii., p. 90.
Footnote 13:
Aristot., _Nat. Auscult._, lib. ii., cap. 6. Aristoph., _Metaph._,
lib. i., cap. 3. Cic., _De Nat. Deor._, lib. i., cap. 10. Justin
Mart., _Prat. ad Gent._, p. 20.
Footnote 14:
Mosheim in Cudw., lib. i., cap. 4. Tim., _De Anim. Mund. sp. Plat._,
lib. iii. _Mem. de l’Acad. des Belles-Lettr._, t. xxxii., p. 19, _et
al._
Footnote 15:
Book i., ch. 5.
Footnote 16:
Holwell, _Gent. Philosophy_.
Footnote 17:
Johannes Megapolensis, Jun., _Account of Maquaas or Mohawk Indians_.
Footnote 18:
Darw., _Bot. Garden_, Part I., Cant. i., 1, 105.
Footnote 19:
Grotius. Puffendorff, b. v., cap. 4. Vattel, b. i., cap. 18, etc.
Footnote 20:
Vattel, b. i., ch. 17.
Footnote 21:
Blackstone, _Com._, b. ii., cap. 1.
Footnote 22:
True it is—and I am not ignorant of the fact—that in a certain
apocryphal book of voyages, compiled by one Hakluyt, is to be found a
letter written to Francis the First, by one Giovanne, 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 beautiful 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 naught, 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.
Footnote 23:
This river is likewise laid down in Ogilvy’s map as Manhattan—Noordt
Montaigne and Mauritius River.
Footnote 24:
_Juet’s Journ._, Purch. Pil.
Footnote 25:
“Men by inaction degenerate into oysters.”—Kaimes.
Footnote 26:
Pavonia, in the ancient maps, is a tract of country extending from
about Hoboken to Amboy.
Footnote 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 rivers had
lost the art of running uphill. The foregoing is a theory in which I
do not pretend to be skilled, notwithstanding that I do fully give it
my belief.
Footnote 28:
A promontory in the Highlands.
Footnote 29:
Properly spelt _hoeck_ (_i. e._, a point of land).
Footnote 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
skilful 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 _Hurl-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 in 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 Hell-gate_, trou d’Enfer ils ont fait _Hell-gate_, Porte
d’Enfer.”
Footnote 31:
_Vide_, Hazard’s _Col. Stat. Pap._
Footnote 32:
MSS. of the Rev. John Heckwelder, in the archives of the New York
Historical Society.
Footnote 33:
MSS. of the Rev. John Heckwelder; New York Historical Society.
Footnote 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 unrighteously 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 laboring upon theire master’s 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 he had eaten of theire grounde grass, when they
had not any foot of inheritance. They proffered the hogg for 5_s._ if
the commissioners would have given 5_s._ 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.”
Footnote 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.
Footnote 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 _Quahaug_ or
_wilk_: 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.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last
chapter.
● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=.
● Images without captions use HTML alt text.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY OF NEW YORK, VOL. 1 (OF 2) ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
