COLUMBIA LIBRARIES OFFSITE 
 
 AVERY FINE ARTS RESTRICTED 
 
 AR01 392310 
 
SEYMOUR DURST 
 
 When you leave, please leave this hook 
 
 Because it has heen said 
 "Sver'thing comes t' him who waits 
 
 Sxcept a loaned hook." 
 
A 
 
 HISTORY OF NEW YORK 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS 
 
 BY 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 DIRIGO PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 1898 
 
fS 
 
 Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library 
 Gift of Seymour B. Durst Old York Library 
 
 1 
 
X HISTORY OF NEW-YORK 
 
 By DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER. 
 
 5Bt faoaarjjtib bit I'lr Msisx lag, 
 
 MU komt mtt klaarictb aau hm hK%. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CONTAINING DIVERS INGENIOUS THEORIES AND PHI. 
 LOSOPHIC SPECULATIONS, CONCERNING THE CREA- 
 TION AND POPULATION OF THE WORLD, AS CON- 
 NECTED WITH THE HISTORY OF NEW YORK. 
 
 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 dim-- 
 nal revolution. 
 
 The transitions of hght 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 
 di'awn by a centripetal or attractive force, otherwise called the 
 
34 
 
 A HIS TOUT OF NEW- TORE. 
 
 attraction of gravitation ; the combination, or rather the coun- 
 teraction, 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. 
 
 Tliis I believe to be the most approved modern theory on the 
 subject— though there be many philosophers Avho have enter- 
 tained very different opinions ; some, too, of them entitled to 
 much deference from their great antiquity and illustrious cha- 
 racters. Thus it was advanced by some of the ancient sages, 
 that the earth was an extended plain, supported by vast pillars,- 
 and by others, that it rested on the head of a snake, or the back 
 of a huge tortoise— but as they did not provide a resting place 
 for either the pillars or the tortoise, the whole theory fell to 
 the ground, for w^ant of proper foundation. 
 
 The Brahmins assert, that the heavens rest upon the earth 
 and the sun and moon swim therein like fishes in the water, 
 moving from east to west by day, and gliding along the edge of 
 the horizon to their original stations during the night ; * while, 
 according to the Pauranicas of India, it is a vast plain, en- 
 circled by seven oceans of milk, nectar, and other dehcious 
 liquids; that it is studded with seven moimtains, and orna- 
 mented 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 ecKpses.t 
 
 Beside these, and many other equally sage opinions, we 
 have the profomid conjectures of Aboul-Hassan-Aly, son of 
 Al Khan, son of Aly, son of Abderrahman, son of Abdallah, 
 son of Masoud-el-Hadheh, who is commonly called Masoudi, 
 and surnamed Cothbiddin, but who takes the humble title of 
 Laheb-ar-rasoul, which means the companion of the ambassa- 
 dor of God. He has written a universal history, entitled 
 " ]\Iouroudge-ed-dharab, or the Golden Meadows, and the Mines 
 of Precious Stones."! In this valuable work he has related 
 the history of the world, from the creation down to the mo- 
 ment of writing; wliich was under the Caliphate of Mothi 
 Billah, in the month Dgioumadi-el-aoual of the 33Gth 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 wmg, the land of Gog the left 
 wing, and Africa the tail. He informs us, moreover, that an 
 
 * Faria y Sonza. Mick. Lns. note b. 7. 
 t Sir W. Joues, Diss. Antiq. lud. Zod. 
 
 X MSB. Bibliot. Roi. Fr. 
 
A imsTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 25 
 
 earth has existed before the present, (which he considers aa 
 a mere cliicken of 7,000 years,) that it has undergone divers 
 delu^^es, and that, according to the opinion of some well- 
 informed Brahmins of his acquaintance, it will be renovated 
 every seventy-thousandth hazarouam; each hazarouam con- 
 sisting of 12,000 yeai-s. 
 
 These are a few of the many contradictory opinions of phi- 
 losophers 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 ; * others, that it is merely a mirror or sphere of 
 transparent crystal ; f and a tliird 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.J But I give httle 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, concen- 
 trating 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 requu-e a fresh supply of exhalations for the 
 next occasion. § 
 
 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 
 
 * Plutarch de Placitis Philosoph. lib. iii. cap. 20. 
 
 t Achill Tat. Lsag. cap, 19. Ap. Petav. t. iii. p. 81. Stob. Eclog. Phys. lib. i. p. 5«. 
 Plut. cle Plac. Phi. 
 
 X Diogenes Laertius in Anaxag. 1. ii. sec. 8. PlaA. Apol. t. i. p. 26. Plut. de Pine. 
 Pliilo. Xenoph. Mem. 1. iv. p. 815. 
 
 § Aristot. Meteor. 1. ii. c. 2. Idem. Probl. sec. J5. Stob. Eel. Phys. 1. 1. p- r>5. 
 Bruck. Hist. Phil. t. i. p. 1154, &o. 
 
20 
 
 A IllSTOllY OF NEW-YORK, 
 
 from certain empyreal, luminous or phosphoric clouds, swim- 
 ming in its transx^arent atmosphere.* 
 
 But we will not enter farther at present into the nature of 
 the sun, that being an inquiry not immediately necessarj' to 
 the development of this history ; neither will we embroil our- 
 selves in any more of the endless disputes of philosophers 
 touching the form of this globe, but content ourselves T\dtli the 
 theory advanced in the beginning of this chapter, and wiU pro- 
 ceed to illustrate, by experiment, the complexity of motion 
 therein ascribed to this our rotatory planet. 
 
 Prof essoi' Von Poddingcoft (or Puddinghead, as the name may 
 be rendered into English) was long celebrated in the university 
 of Leyden, for profomid gravity of deportment, and a talent of 
 gomg 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 httle study. In the course 
 of one of his lectures, the learned professor, seizing a bucket of 
 wa,ter, swung it round liis head at arm's-length. The impulse 
 with which he threw the vessel from hun being a centrifugal 
 force, the retention of his arm operating as a centripetal 
 power, and the bucket, Avhich 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 round him. He 
 apprised them, moreover, that the same principle of gTavitation, 
 which retained the water in the bucket, restrains the ocean 
 from flying from the earth in its rapid revolutions ; and he 
 farther informed them, that should the motion of the earth be 
 suddenly checked, it would in-continently 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 extmguish, the solar luminary. 
 An unlucky striphng, one of those vagrant geniuses who seem 
 sent into the world merely to annoy Avorthy men of the pud- 
 dinghead order, desirous of ascertaming the correctness of the 
 experiment, suddenly arrested the arm of the professor, just 
 at the moment the bucket was in its zenith, which immedi- 
 ately descended with astonishing precision upon the head of 
 the philosopher. A hollow sound, and a red-hot hiss, attended 
 the contact; but the theory was in the amplest maimer ill us- 
 
 • Philos. Trans 1795, p. 72. Idem. 1801, p. 265. Nich. Philos. Journ. i. p 13. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 21 
 
 fcrated, 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 un- 
 utterable indignation, whereby the students were marvellously 
 edified, and departed considerably wiser than before. 
 
 It is a mortifying circumstance, which j^-eatly perplexes 
 many a philosopher, that Nature often refuses to second his 
 elf orts ; so that after having invented one of the most ingeni- 
 ous and natural theories imaginable, she will have the per- 
 srerseness to act directly in the teeth of it. 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 to be ascribed to dame Nature, who, with the pro- 
 verbial fickleness of her sex, is continually indulging in coque- 
 tries and caprices ; and who seems to take pleasure in violating 
 all philosophic rules, and jilting the most learned and inde- 
 fatigable of her adorers. Thus it happened with respect to the 
 foregoing 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, ought, in strict propriety, to tumble into the 
 sun; philosophers were convinced that it would do so, and 
 awaited in anxious impatience the fidfilment of their prog- 
 nostics. 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 which 
 they conceived put upon them by the v/orld, had not a good- 
 natured professor kindly officiated as a mediator between the 
 parties and effected a reconcihation. 
 
 Finding the world would not accommodate itself to the 
 theory, he Avisely accommodated the theory to the world : he 
 informed his brother philosophers that the circular motion of 
 the earth round the sun was no sooner engendered by the con- 
 flicting 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, heartily 
 glad of any explanation that would decently extricate them 
 from their embarrassment — and ever since that era the world 
 has been left to take her own course, and to revolve around 
 the sun in such orbit as she thinks proper. 
 
28 
 
 A UISTORT OF NEW TORK. 
 
 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 COM 
 MON FOLK WOULD IMAGINE. 
 
 Having thus briefly introduced my reader to the world, and 
 given him some idea of its form and situation, he will natu- 
 rally be curious to know from whence it came, and how it was 
 created. And, indeed, the clearing up of these points is abso- 
 lutely 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 NeAv-York, would never 
 have had an existence. The regular course of my history, 
 therefore, requires that I should proceed to notice the cosmo- 
 gony, or formation of this our globe. 
 
 And now I give my readers fair warning, that I am about to 
 plunge, for a chapter or t-wo, 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 unintelhgible learning, or have their 
 brains knocked out by some of those hard Greek names which 
 "svill be flj^ng 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 contradic- 
 toiy accounts ; and though a very satisfactory one is furnished 
 us by divine revelation, yet every philosopher feels himseK in 
 honour 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 in- 
 stnicted. 
 
 Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, that the 
 earth and the whole system of the universe was the deity him- 
 self ;* a doctrine most strenuously maintained by Zenophanes 
 and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as also by Strabo and the sect 
 
 * Aristot. ap. Cic. lib. i. cap 3. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- 70 UK. 
 
 29 
 
 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 forma- 
 tion of the world, the arcana of nature, and the principles both 
 of music and morals.* Other sages adhered to the mathe- 
 matical system of squares and triangles ; the cube, the pyra- 
 mid, and the sphere, the tetrahedron, the octahedron, the 
 icosahedron, and the dodecahedron, t While others advocated 
 the great elementary theory, which refers the construction of 
 our globe, and all that it contains, to the combination of four 
 material elements— air, earth, fire, and water ; with the assist- 
 ance 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 Democ- 
 ritus, of laughing memory ; improved by Epicurus, that king 
 of good fellows, and modernized by the fanciful Descartes. 
 
 But I dechne 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 intelli- 
 gence. X Whether, in fact, the earth be an insensate clod, or 
 whether it be animated by a soul ; § which opinion was strenu- 
 ously maintained by a host of philosophers, at the head of 
 whom stands the great Plato, that temperate sage, who threw 
 the cold Avater 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 inha- 
 bitants of his imaginary island of Atlantis than to the sturdy 
 race, composed of rebellions flesh and blood, which populates 
 the little matter-of-fact island we inhabit. 
 
 Beside these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical the- 
 ogony 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 
 
 * Aristot. Metaph. lib. i. c. 5. Idem, de Coelo, 1. iii. c. 1. Rousseau Mem. sur 
 Musique ancien, p. 39. Plutarch de Plac. Philos. lib. i. cap. 3. 
 t Tim. Locr. ap. Plato, t. iii. p. 90. 
 
 X Aristot. Nat. Auscult. 1. ii. cap. 6. Aristoph. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 3. Cic. de Nat. 
 Deor. lib. i. cap. 10. Justin Mart. orat. ad gent. p. 20. 
 
 §Mosheim in Cudw. lib. i. cap. 4. Tim. de anim. mund ap. Plat, lib iii. Mem 
 de I'Acad. des Belles-Lettr. t. xxxil. p. 19, et al. 
 
30 
 
 A JITSTOUY OF NKWTORK. 
 
 celestial biill. To illustrate this last doctrine, Burnet, m his 
 theory of the earth,* has favoured 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, Chal- 
 ''eans, Persians, Greeks, and Latins, have alternately assisted 
 U the hatching of this strange bird, and that their cacklings 
 have been caught, and continued in different tones and in- 
 flections, 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 philoso- 
 phers ; 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, t 
 
 The negro philosophers of Congo afiirm 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 inha- 
 bitants, and made them very black, and beautiful ; and when 
 he had finished the first man, he was well pleased Avith him, 
 and smoothed him over the face ; and hence his nose, and the 
 nose of all his descendants, became flat. 
 
 The Mohawk pliilosophers tell us, that a pregnant woman 
 fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise took her up on its 
 back, because every place was covered with water ; and that 
 the woman, sitting upon the tortoise, paddled with her hands 
 ill the water, and raked up the earth, whence it finally hap- 
 pened that the earth became higher than the water. X 
 
 But I forbear to quote a number more of these ancient and 
 outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable ignorance, in spite 
 of all their erudition, compelled them to "svrite in languages 
 
 * Book i. ch. 3. t Holwell, Gent. Philosophy. 
 
 X Johannes Megapolensis, Jun. Account of Maquaas or Mohawk Indians. lGi4. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 31 
 
 •which but few of my readers can understand ; and I shall pro- 
 ceed 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 vapours, which, cooling and 
 condensing in procjess 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. 
 
 Hutton, on the contrary, supposes that the waters at first 
 were universally paramount ; and he terrifies himseK with the 
 idea that the earth must be eventually washed away by the 
 force of rain, rivers, and mountain torrents, until it is con- 
 founded 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 herseK into a fountam; 
 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 savoury stanza,) 
 has distinguished himself by a very admirable theory respect- 
 ing the earth. He conjectures that it was originally a chaotic 
 corn-it, which being selected for the abode of man, was removed 
 from its eccentric orbit, and whirled round the sun in its pre- 
 sent regular motion ; by which change of direction, order suc- 
 ceeded to confusion in the arrangement of its component parts. 
 The philosopher adds, that the deluge was produced by an un- 
 courteous salute from the watery tail of another comet ; doubt- 
 less through sheer envy of its improved condition: thus 
 furnishing a melancholy proof that jealousy may prevail, even 
 among the heavenlj^ 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 ; regret- 
 ting 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 
 
32 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 distinguished for rhyme as reason, and for good-natured ere 
 duHty as serious research, and who has recommended him- 
 self wonderfully to the good graces of the ladie??, by letting 
 them into all the gallantries, amours, intrigues, 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 ex- 
 plode, hke a barrel of gunpowder, and in that act exploded the 
 sun— which in its flight, by a similar convidsion, exploded the 
 earth— which in like guise exploded the moon — and thiLS by a 
 concatenation of explosions, the whole solar system was pro- 
 duced, and set most systematically in motion ! * 
 
 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 diffi- 
 cult a task as they at first imagined. I have shown at least a 
 score of ingenious methods in which a world could be con- 
 structed ; and I have no doubt that had any of the philoso- 
 phers 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 rehef of bewildered philoso- 
 phers. By their assistance more sudden evolutions and transi- 
 tions are effected in the system of nature, than are wrought in 
 a pantomimic exhibition, by the wonder-working sword of 
 Harlequin. Should one of oui' modem 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 ab- 
 surdity, he has but to seize a comet by the beard, mount 
 astride of its tafl, and away he gallops in triumph, like an en- 
 chanter on his hippogi-ifi, or a Connecticut witch on her broom- 
 stick, " to sweep the cobwebs out of the sky." 
 
 There is an old and vulgar saying about a beggar on horse- 
 back," vvrhioli I Vv^ould 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 as- 
 pired to manage the chai-iot of Phoebus. One drives his comet 
 
 * Darw. Bot. Garden, Part. I. Cant. i. 1. 105 
 
A IIISTORT OF NKW-TOUK. 
 
 33 
 
 at full speed against the sun, and knocks the world out of him 
 with the mighty concussion ; another, more moderate, makea 
 his comet a mere beast of burden, carrying the sun a regular 
 supply of food and fagots ; a third, of more combustible dispo- 
 sition, threatens to throw his comet, like a bombshell, into the 
 world and blow it up like a powder-magazine ; while a fourth, 
 vv^ith no great delicacy to this planet and its inhabitants, insin- 
 uates 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 intended by Providence for the benefit of philoso- 
 phers, 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 ab- 
 surdities, to be detected by those who are to come after us. 
 Theories are the mighty soap-bubbles with which the grown- 
 up children of science amuse themselves — while the honest 
 vulgar stand gazing in stupid admiration, and dignify these 
 learned vagaries with the name of wisdom ! — Surely, Socrates 
 was right in his opinion, that philosophers are but a soberer 
 sort of madmen, busying themselves in things totally incom- 
 prehensible, or which, if they could be comprehended, would 
 be found not worth the trouble of discovery. 
 
 For my own part, until the learned have come to an agree- 
 ment among themselves, I shall content myself with the ac- 
 count handed down to us by Moses ; in which I do but follow 
 the example of our ingenious neighbours 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 
 
34 
 
 A HISTORY OF 2s'EW-T0RK. 
 
 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 teas created^ and 
 that it is composed of land and water. It farther 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 peeks for it in its 
 proper place. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW THAT FAMOUS NAVIGATOR, NOAH, WAS SHAMEFULLY NICK- 
 NAMED ; AND HOW HE COMMITTED AN UNPARDONABLE OVER- 
 SIGHT IN NOT HAVING FOUR SONS. WITH THE GREAT TROUBLE 
 OF PHILOSOPHERS CAUSED THEREBY, AND THE DISCOVERY OF 
 AMERICA. 
 
 NoAH, who is the first sea-faring 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 Ti- 
 tans ; 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 per- 
 mit me to gratify the laudable curiosity of my readers, by in- 
 vestigating 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 m every country that he visited. 
 The Chaldeans, for instance, give us his history, merely alter- 
 ing his name into Xisuthrus— a trivial alteration, which, to a 
 historian skilled in etymologies, will appear wholly imimpor- 
 tant. It appears, hkewise, that he had exchanged his tar- 
 pawling 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 In- 
 dians, as Menu ; the Greek and Roman writers confound him 
 with Ogyges, and the Theban with Deucalion and Saturn. But 
 tlie Chinese, who deservedly rank among the most extensiva 
 
A Ills TO BY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 35 
 
 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 enlight- 
 ened hterati, 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. Shuckford 
 gives us the additional information, that the ark rested on a 
 mountain on the frontiers of Cliina. 
 
 From this mass of rational conjectures and sage hypotheses, 
 many satisfactory deductions might be drawn ; but I shall con- 
 tent myself with the simple fact stated in the Bible, viz., that 
 Noah begat three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japhet. It is astonish- 
 ing 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 for 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 causa- 
 tion, which at first sight appears a paradox to the inex- 
 perienced observer. Thus many of my readers wiU doubtless 
 wonder what connexion 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, becom- 
 ing 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 
 com^se, would have been dragged forth from its obscurity on 
 the occasion; and thus many a hard-working historian and 
 philosopher would have been spared a prodigious mass of 
 weary conjecture respecting the first discovery and population 
 of this country. Noah, however, having provided for his three 
 sons, looked in all probability upon our country as mere wild 
 unsettled land, and said nothing about it ; and to this unpar- 
 donable taciturnity of the patriarch, may we ascribe the mis- 
 fortune that America did not come into the world as early as 
 the other quarters of the globe. 
 
36 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEWTORK. 
 
 It is true, some writers have vindicated him from this mis- 
 conduct towards posterity, and asserted that he really did 
 discover America. Thus it Avas 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 sea-faring life, supermtended the transmigia- 
 tion. The pious and enhghtened father, Charlevoix, a French 
 Jesuit, remarkable for his aversion to the marvellous, com- 
 mon 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 
 grand-children 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 
 beheve 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 
 unboimded ocean, and had so many shoals and quicksands to 
 guard against, should be ignorant of, or should not have com- 
 municated to his descendants, the art of sailing on the ocean?" 
 Therefore, they did sail on the ocean — therefore, they sailed to 
 America— therefore, America was discovered by Noah. 
 
 Now all this exquisite chain of reasoning, which is so strik- 
 ingly characteristic of the good father, being addressed to the 
 faith, rather than the understanding, is flatly opposed by Hans 
 de Laert, 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 
 vv-ith 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 
 
A HISTORY OF JS'EW-YOllK. 
 
 87 
 
 course of another century, the log-book of the good Noah 
 should be as current among historians, as the voyages oi 
 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 probabihties, re- 
 specting the first discovery of this country, with which un- 
 happy historians overload themselves, in their endeavours 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 labours to be extremely brief upon this 
 point. 
 
 I shall not, therefore, stop to inquire, whether America was 
 first discovered by a wandering vessel of that celebrated 
 Phoenician fleet, which, according to Herodotus, circumnavi- 
 gated Africa ; or by that Carthaginian expedition, which Phny, 
 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 endeavoured 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 voj^age 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 farther 
 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 Christovallo Colon, a Genoese, 
 who has been clumsily nicknamed Columbus, but for what 
 reason I cannot discern. Of the voyages and adventures of 
 tills Colon, I shall say nothing, seeing that they are already 
 sufficiently knovm; nor shall I undertake to prove that this 
 
38 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YOBK. 
 
 country should have been called Colonia, after his name, thai 
 being notoriously self-evident. 
 
 Having thus happily got my readers on this side of the 
 Atlantic, I picture them to myself, all impatience to enter upon 
 the enjoyment of the land of promise, and in full expectation 
 that I will immediately deliver it into their possession. But if 
 I ao, may I ever forfeit the reputation of a regular-bred his- 
 torian ! No — no— most curious and thrice learned readers, (for 
 thrice learned ye are, if ye have read all that has gone before, 
 and nme times learned shall ye be, if ye read that which comes 
 after,) we have yet a world of work before us. Think you the 
 fii-st 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 hke a garden, wherein they might revel at their 
 ease? No such thing — they had forests to cut down, under- 
 wood to grub up, marshes to drain, and savages to exterminate. 
 
 In like manner, I have sundry doubts to clear away, ques- 
 tions 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 CAJVIE TO BE 
 BEGOTTEN BY ACCIDENT — TO THE GREAT RELIEF AND SATIS- 
 FACTION 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 embarrass- 
 ment ; for unless we prove that the aborigines did absolutely 
 come from somewhere, it will be immediately asserted in this 
 age of scepticism that they did not come at all ; and if they 
 did not come at all, then was this country never populated — a 
 conclusion perfectly agreeable to the rules of logic, but wholly 
 irreconcilable to every feeling of humanity, inasmuch as it 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 39 
 
 must syllogistically prove fatal to the innumerable aborigines 
 of tliis populous region. 
 
 To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from logical anni- 
 hilation so many millions of fellow-creatures, how many wings 
 of geese have been plundered ! what oceans of ink have been 
 ienevolently drained! and how many capacious heads of 
 learned historians have been addled, and for ever confounded ! 
 i pause with reverential awe, when I contemplate the ponder- 
 ous tomes, in different languages, with which they have 
 endeavored to solve this question, so important to the happi- 
 ness of society, but so involved in clouds of impenetrable 
 obscurity. Historian after historian has engaged in the end- 
 less 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 humour 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 popula- 
 tion 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 honour 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 v/riters, 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 Bobertus Stephens 
 declared nothing could be more clear — Arius Montanus, with- 
 out the least hesitation, asserts that Mexico was the true 
 Ophir, and the Jews the early settlers of the country. While 
 
40 
 
 ^ li'uSTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 Possevin, Becan, and several other sagacious writers, lug in a 
 supposed prophecy of the fourth book of Esdras, which being 
 inserted in the mighty hypothesis, like the keystone of an 
 arch, gives it, in their opinion, perpetual durability. 
 
 Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly super- 
 structure, than in trudges a phalanx of opposite authors, with 
 Hans de Laert, 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 divei*s 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 rehgion of nations newly discovered, and founded 
 besides on the authority of the fathers of the church. " 
 
 Some writers again, among whom it is with great 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 men- 
 tion, that Father Elircher ascribes the settlement of America 
 to the Egyptians, Rudbeck to the Scandinavians, Charron to | 
 the Gauls, Juffredus Pedri to a skating party from Friesland, 
 Mihus to the Celtse, Marinocus the Sicilian to the Romans. Le 
 Compte to the Phoenicians, Postel to the Moors, Martyn 
 d'Angleria to the Abyssinians, together with the sage surmise 
 of De Laert, that England, Ireland, and the Orcades may con- 
 tend for that honour. 
 
 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 com- 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 41 
 
 prises 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 authori- 
 ties, that Adam was of the Indian race— or the startlmg con- 
 jecture of Buffon, Helvetius, and Darwin, so highly honour- 
 able to mankind, that the whole human species is accidentally 
 descended from a remarkable family of monkeys ! 
 1 This last conjecture, I must own, came upon me very sud- 
 Ideniy and very ungraciously. I have often beheld the clown 
 in a pantomime, Avhile gazing in stupid wonder at the ex- 
 travagant gambols of a harlequin, all at once electrified by a 
 sudden stroke of the wooden sword across his shoulders. Lit- 
 tle 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 
 woidd on a sudden turn upon me and my readers, and with 
 one hypothetical flourish metamorphose us into beasts ! I de- 
 termined from that moment not to burn my fingers with any 
 more of their theories, but content myself mth 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 transmigra- 
 tions by water. Thus, Padre Joseph D'Acosta enumerates 
 three passages by land— first by the north of Europe, secondly 
 by the north of Asia, and thirdly by regions southward of the 
 straits of MageUan. The learned Grotius marches his Norwe- 
 gians 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 Homn, 
 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 fafl, Pinkerton, that industrious old gen- 
 tleman who compiles books and manufactures geogxaphies, 
 has constructed a natural bridge of ice, from continent to con- 
 tinent, at the distance of four or five miles from Behring's 
 straits — for which he is entitled to the grateful thanks of aU 
 liie wandering aborigines w^ho ever did or ever will pass 
 over it. 
 
42 
 
 A JIISrOUY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 It is an evil much to be lamented, that none of the worthy- 
 writers above quoted could ever commence his work, without 
 immediately declaring hostihties 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 aU the birds in the 
 neighbourhood. 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 north- 
 ern oceans — or that they were conveyed hither by balloons, as 
 modem aeronauts pass from Dover to Calais— or by witch- 
 craft, as Simon Magus posted among the stars— or after the 
 manner of the renowned Scythian Abaris, who, like the New- 
 England witches on full-blooded broomsticks, made most 
 unheard-of journeys on the back of a golden arrow, given him 
 by the Hyperborean Apollo. 
 
 But there is still one mode left by which this country could 
 have been peopled, which I have reserved for the last, because 
 I consider it worth all the rest : it is — by accident ! Speaking 
 of the islands of Solomon, New-Guinea, and New-HoUand, the 
 profound father Charlevoix observes, "in fine, all these coun- 
 tries are peopled, and it is j^ossible some have been so by acci- 
 dent. 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 part 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 with- 
 out anything to rest his lever upon. It is only surpassed by 
 the dexterity with which the sturdy old Jesuit, in another 
 place, cuts the gordon knot — "Nothing," says he, "is more 
 easy. The inhabitants of both hemispheres are certainly the 
 descendants of the same father. The common father of man- 
 kind received an express order from Heaven to people the 
 world, and accordingly it has been x^<^opled. To bring this 
 about, it was necessary to overcome all difficulties in the way, 
 and they have also been overcome I " Pious logician ! How does 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW -YORK. 
 
 43 
 
 h<3 put aJl the herd of laborious theorists to the bkish, by ex- 
 plaining, in five words, what it has cost them volumes to 
 prove they knew nothing about. 
 
 From ail 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 follow- 
 ing conclusions, which luckily, however, are sufficient for m» 
 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 m five hundred different ways, as 
 proved by a cloud of authors, who, from the positiveness 
 of their assertions, seem to have been eye-witnesses to the 
 fact. Tliirdly, that the people of this country had a variety 
 of fathers, which, as it may not be thought much to their 
 credit by the conunon run of readers, the less we say on the 
 subject the better. The question, therefore, I trust, is for 
 ever at rest. 
 
 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 EMBAR- 
 RASSMENT, 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 peril- 
 ous enterprise, by way of estabhshing his fame, feels bound, in 
 honour and chivalry, to turn back for no difficulty nor hard- 
 ship, and never to shrink or quail, whatever enemy he may 
 encounter. Under tliis 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 re- 
 pulse 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 ^vill be the 
 last adversary I shall have to contend with, and that in the 
 
44 
 
 A niSTORY OF NEW-YOllK. 
 
 next book i shall be enabled to conduct my readers in trimnph 
 into the body of my work. 
 
 The question wliich has thus suddenly arisen, is, what right 
 had the first discoverers of America to land and take posses 
 sion 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 manldnd have an equal 
 right to any thing 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.* 
 
 This proposition bein,:; admitted, it follows clearly that the 
 Europeans who first visited America were the real discoverers 
 of the same ; nothing being necessary to the establishment of 
 this fact, but simply to prove that it was totally uninhabited 
 by man. This would, at first, appear to be a point of some 
 difficulty, for it is well known that this quarter of the world 
 abounded with certain animals that walked erect on two feet, 
 had something of the human countenance, uttered certain un- 
 intelligble 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 establish- 
 ing fat monasteries and bishoprics on earth, soon cleared up 
 this point, greatly to the satisfaction of his holiness the Pope, 
 and of all Christian voyagers and discoverers. 
 
 They plainly proved, and as there were no Indian writers 
 arose on the other side, the fact was considered as fully 
 admitted and established, that the two-legged race of animals 
 before mentioned were mere cannibals, detestable monsters, 
 and many of them giants — which last description of vagrants 
 have, since the times of Gog, Magog, and Goliath, been con- 
 sidered as outlaws, and have received no quarter in either 
 history, chivalry, or song. Indeed, even the philosophic Bacon 
 
 * Grotius. Puffendorf, b. v. c. 4. Vattel, b. i. c. 18, Ac. 
 
A niSTOEY OF NEW- YORE. 
 
 45 
 
 declared the Americans to be people proscribed by the laws 
 of nature, inasmuch as they had a barbarous custom of sacri- 
 ficing men, and feeding upon man's flesh. 
 
 Nor are these all the proofs of their utter barbarism ; among 
 many other writers of discernment, UUoa tells us, ' ' their im- 
 becility 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 im- 
 pression on them, and respect as little." All this is further- 
 more 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 ser.vice. It is vain to offer them money; they 
 answer that they are not hungry." And Vanegas confirms the 
 whole, assuring us that "ambition they have none, and are 
 more desirous of being thought strong and valiant. The 
 objects of ambition with us— honour, fame, reputation, riches, 
 posts, and distinctions — are unknown among them. So that 
 this powerful spring of action, the cause of so much seeming 
 good and real evil in the world, has no power over them. In a 
 word, these unhappy mortals may be compared to children, in 
 whom the development of reason is not completed." 
 
 Now aU these peculiarities, although in the unenlightened 
 states of Greece they would have entitled their possessors to 
 immortal honour, 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, 
 
46 
 
 A HISTORY OF JSEW-YORK. 
 
 *' is the colour of the Devil !" Therefore, so far from being able 
 to own property, they had no right even to personal freedom 
 — for hberty is too radiant a deity to inhabit such gloomy 
 temples. All which circumstances plainly convinced the 
 righteous followers of Cortes and Pizarro, that these mis- 
 creants 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 estabhshed, 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 nourish- 
 ment 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 modem Tartars, 
 who, having fertile countries, disdain to cultivate the earth, 
 and choose to live by rapine, are wanting to themselves, and 
 deserve to he exterminated as savage and pernicious beasts.''^* 
 
 Now it is notorious, that the savages knew nothing of agri- 
 culture, when first discovered by the Europeans, but hved a 
 most vagabond, disorderly, unrighteous life, — rambling from 
 place to place, and prodigally rioting upon the spontaneous 
 luxuries of nature, mthout tasking her generosity to yield 
 them any thing more ; whereas it has been most unquestion- 
 ably 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 pubhc gardens, all which the Indians knew 
 nothing about — therefore, they did not improve the talents 
 Providence had bestowed on them —therefore, they were care- 
 less stewards — therefore, they had no right to the soil— there 
 fore, they deserved to be exterminated. 
 
 * Vattel, b. i. ch. 17. 
 
A HISrOUT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 47 
 
 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, th^ will of 
 Heaven was accomplished. — But this only proves how unde- 
 serving they were of the blessings around them — they were so 
 much the more savages, for not having more wants ; for knowl- 
 edge is in some degree an increase of desires, and it is this su- 
 periority, both in the number and magnitude of his desires, 
 that distinguishes the man from the beast. Therefore, the In- 
 dians, in not having more wants, were very unreasonable ani- 
 mals ; and it was but just that they should make way for the 
 Europeans, who had a thousand wants to their one, and, there- 
 fore, 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 deter- 
 mined 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 followed 
 that they had no right to the soil, but that it was completely 
 at the disposal of the first comers, who had more knowledge, 
 more wants, and more elegant, that is to say, artificial desires 
 than themselves. 
 
 In entering upon a newly-discovered, uncultivated country, 
 therefore, the new comers were but taking possession of what, 
 according to the aforesaid doctrine, was theii' ow^n property — 
 therefore, in opposing them, the savages were invading their 
 just rights, infringing the immutable laws of Nature, and coun- 
 teracting the wiU 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 men- 
 tioned, and one which will be the most readily admitted by my 
 reader, provided he be blessed with bowels of charity and phi- 
 lanthropy, is the right acquired by civilization. AU the world 
 
48 
 
 A IIISTOIIY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 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 bhnd to the mis- 
 erics of their situation. But no sooner did the benevolent in- 
 habitants of Europe behold their sad condition, than they im- 
 mediately went to work to ameliorate and miprove it. They 
 introduced among them rum, gin, brandy, and the other com- 
 forts of life — and it is astonishing to read how soon the poor 
 savages learned to estimate these blessings— they likewise made 
 known to them a thousand remedies, by which the most invet- 
 erate diseases are aUeviated and healed ; and that they might 
 comprehend the benefits and enjoy the comforts of these medi- 
 cines, they previously introduced among them the diseases 
 wliich they were calculated to cm^e. By these and a variety 
 of other methods was tlie condition of these poor savages won- 
 derfully 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 doubt- 
 lessly rendered a much happier race of beings. 
 
 But the most important branch of civilization, and which has 
 most strenuouslj^ been extolled by the zealous and pious fathei^ 
 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 stmnbling among the dark mountains of 
 paganism, and guilty of the most horrible ignorance of rehgion. 
 It is true, they neither stole nor defrauded ; they were sober, 
 f inigal, 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 rehgion— ex- 
 cept indeed that of setting them the example. 
 
 But notwithstanding all these comphcated labors for their 
 good, such was the unparalleled obstmacy of these stubborn 
 wretches, that they ungratefully refused to acknowledge the 
 strangers as their benefactors, and persisted in disbeheving the 
 doctrines they endeavoured to inculcate ; most insolently alleg- 
 ing, 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 Em^ope, provoked at their incredulity, and dis- 
 couraged by their stift-necked obstinacy, would for ever have 
 abandoned their shores, and consigned them to their original 
 ignorance and misery?— But no — so zealous were they to effect 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 49 
 
 the temporal comfort and eternal salvation of these pagan infi- 
 dels, that they even proceeded from the milder means of per- 
 suasion, 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 ^ery few years nofc one-fifth of the number of unbe- > 
 lievers 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 tliis? Have not whole nations of uninfonned 
 savages been made acquainted with a thousand imperious wants 
 and indispensable comforts, of which they were before wholly 
 ignorant? Have the3/ not been hterally hunted and smoked 
 out of the dens and lurking-places of ignorance and infidehty, 
 and absolutely scourged intsO the right path? Have not the 
 temporal things, the vain baubles and filthy lucre of this world, 
 which were too aT)t 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 pre- 
 siunption to say, that these savage pagans have yielded any 
 thing more than an inconsiderable recompense to their benefac- 
 tors, in surrendering to them a httle 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 estabhsh 
 a property in the newly-discovered regions of America. Now, 
 so it has happened in certain parts of this dehghtful 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 son, the Spaniards, as the next immediate occupants, en- 
 
A IITSTOIIT OF NEW YORK. 
 
 tered upon the possession as clearly as the hangman succeedg 
 to the clothes of the malefactor— and as they have Blackstone,* 
 and aU the learned expounders of the law on their side, they 
 may set all actions of ejectment at defiance— and this last 
 right may be entitled the right by extermination, or in other 
 words, the right by gunpowder. 
 
 But lest any scruples of conscience should remain on this 
 head, and to settle the question of right for ever, his holiness 
 Poi:>e Alexander VI. issued a bull, by which he generously 
 gi'anted the newly-discovered quarter of the globe to the Span- 
 iards and Portuguese; who, thus having law and gospel on 
 their side, and being inflamed with great spiritual zeal, showed 
 the pagan savages neither favour nor affection, but prosecuted 
 the work of discovery, colonization, civilization, and extermi- 
 nation, with ten times more fury than ever. 
 
 Thus were the European worthies who first discovered 
 America, clearly entitled to the soil ; and not only entitled to 
 the soil, but likemse 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 pur- 
 pose but to improve their forlorn, uncivilized, and heathenish 
 condition— for having made them acquainted with the com- 
 forts of life ; for having introduced among tliem the hght 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 par- 
 ticularly anxious that this question should be put to rest for 
 ever, I will suppose a parallel case, by way of arousing the 
 cawAid 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 aerial voyage of 
 
 * Bl. Com. b. ii. c. 1. 
 
A IIISTOIIY OF MlW-YOIIK. 
 
 51 
 
 discovery among the stars, should chance to alight upon this 
 outlandish planet. 
 
 And here I beg my readers will not have the uncharitablo- 
 ness to smile, as is too frequently the fault of volatile readers, 
 when perusing the grave speculations of pliilosophers. 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 weKare 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 dis- 
 cover 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 in- 
 comprehensible to us, than was the European mystery of navi- 
 gating floating castles, through the world of waters, to the 
 simple savages. We have already discovered the art of coast- 
 ing along the aerial shores of our planet, by means of balloons, 
 as the savages had of venturing along their sea-coasts in 
 canoes ; and the disparity between the former, and the aerial 
 vehicles of the philosophers from the moon, might not be 
 greater than that between the bark canoes of the savages and 
 the mighty ships of their discoverers. I might here pursue an 
 endless chain of similar speculations ; but as they would be un- 
 important to my subject, I abandon them to my reader, par- 
 ticularly if he be a philosopher, as matters well worthy of his 
 attentive consideration. 
 
 To return then to my supposition — let us suppose that the 
 aerial visitants I have mentioned, possessed of vastly superior 
 knowledge to ourselves ; that is to say, possessed of superior 
 knowledge in the art of extermination — riding on hippogrifts — 
 defended with impenetrable armour— armed with concentrated 
 sunbeams, and provided Avith 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 gunpowder, were as perfectly convinced that they 
 themselves were the wisest, the most virtuous, powerful, and 
 
A IIlSTOnr OF IMiW YOUK. 
 
 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 enlight- 
 ened republic. 
 
 Let us suppose, moreover, that the aerial voyagers, finding 
 tliis planet to be nothing but a howling wilderness, inhabited 
 by us, poor savages and wild beasts, shall take formal posses- 
 sion 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 subjec- 
 tion, 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 re- 
 quires, 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 ex- 
 tend as far as eye can reach, who rideth on the Great Bear, 
 useth the sun as a looking-glass, and maintaineth imrivalled 
 control over tides, madmen, and sea-crabs : We, thy liege sub- 
 jects, 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 w-e 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 every thing 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 a horiible whiteness — instead of pea-green. 
 
 '*We have, moreover, found these miserable savages sunk 
 into a state of the utmost ignorance and depravity, every man 
 shamelessly hving with his own wife, and rearin,^- his own 
 children, instead of indulging in that community of wives en- 
 joined 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, igno- 
 ramuses, and barbarians. Taking compassion, therefore, on 
 
A imrOllY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 53 
 
 the sad Cv^dition of these subhmary wretches, we have endea- 
 voured, 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 oxyde, which they swallowed with incredible vora- 
 city, particularly the females; and we have likewise endea- 
 voured 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 pro- 
 found, omnipotent, and all-perfect energy, and the ecstatic, 
 immutable, immoveable perfection. But such was the un- 
 paralleled obstinacy of these wretched savages, that they per- 
 sisted in cleaving to their wives, and adhering to their rehgion, 
 and absolutely set at nought the sublime doctrines of the moon 
 —nay, among other abominable heresies, they even w^ent so far 
 as blasphemously to declare, that this ineffable planet was 
 made of nothing more nor less than gi-een cheese I" 
 
 At these w^ords, the great man in the moon (being a very 
 profound philosopher) shall fall into a terrible passion, and 
 possessing equal authority over things that do not belong to 
 him, as did whilome his holiness the Pope, shall forthwith issue 
 a formidable bull, specifying, "That, whereas a certain crew 
 of Lunatics have lately discovered, and taken possession of, a 
 newly-discovered planet called the earth — and that whereas it 
 is inhabited by none but a race of two-legged animals, that 
 carry their heads on their shoulders instead of under their 
 arms ; cannot talk the lunatic language ; have two eyes instead 
 of one; are destitute of tails, and of a horrible whiteness, 
 instead of pea-green— therefore, and for a variety of other ex- 
 cellent 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 further- 
 more, the colonists who are noAv about to depart to the afore- 
 said planet are authorized and commanded to use every means 
 to convert these infidel savages from the darkness of Chris- 
 tianity, and make them thorough and absolute Lunatics." 
 
 In consequence of this benevolent bull, our philosophic bene- 
 factors go to work with hearty zeal. The;^ 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 wiU turn upon us, and say : Miserable 
 barbarians ! ungi^ateful wi^etches ! have we not come thousands 
 of miles to improve your worthless planet? have Ave not fed 
 
64 
 
 A UlSTOUY OF JSEW-YORK. 
 
 you Avith moonshine? have we not intoxicated you with 
 nitrous oxyde? docs not our moon give you light every night, 
 and have you the baseness to murmur, w^hen we claim a piti- 
 ful return for all these benefits? But finding that we not only 
 persist in absolute contempt of their reasoning and disbehef in 
 theii' philosophy, but even go so far as daringly to defend our 
 property, their patience shall be exhausted, and they shall 
 resort to their superior po .ei-s of argument; hunt us with 
 hippogriffs, transfix us with concentrated sun-beams, demohsh 
 our cities with moon-stones ; until having, by main force, con- 
 verted us to the true faith, they shall gi*aciously 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 comitry are kindly 
 suffered to inhabit the inliospitable forests of the north, or the 
 impenetrable wildernesses of South America. 
 
 Thus, I hope, I have clearly proved, and strikingly illus- 
 trated, the right of the early colonists to the possession of this 
 country; and thus is this gigantic question completely van- 
 quished: so having manfully surmounted all obstacles, and 
 subdued all opposition, what remains but that I should forth- 
 with conduct my readers into the city which we have been 
 so long in a manner besieging? But hold— before I i^roceed 
 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. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORE. 
 
 55 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 TREATING OF THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF THE 
 PROVINCE OF NIEUW-NEDERLANDTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FN WHICH ARE CONTAINED DIVERS REASONS WHY A MAN SHOULD 
 NOT WRITE IN A HURRY. ALSO, OF MASTER HENDRICK HUD- 
 SON, HIS DISCOVERY OF A STRANGE COUNTRY— AND HOW HE 
 WAS MAGNIFICENTLY REWARDED BY THE MUNIFICENCE OF 
 THEIR HIGH MIGHTINESSES. 
 
 My great-gi-andfather, 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 tm-n 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 DeKt 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 trck- 
 schuit, from Rotterdam to Amsterdam — to Delft —to Haerlem — 
 to Leyden— to the Hague, knocking Ms 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 pomt 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 IIJSTOllT OV NEW TORK. 
 
 bird's-eye glance at it, from the top of one of those gigantic 
 vviiidmills ^vhich protect the gates of the city. The good foLc, 
 of the place were on the tiptoe of expectation and unpatienco 
 -notwithstanding all the turmoil of my great-grandfather, 
 not a symptom of the clmrch was yet to be seen; they even 
 began to fear it would never be brought mto the world, but 
 that its Ri-eat projector would lie down and die m labour of 
 i'ty plan he had conceived. At length, ha.-mg ocou- 
 pie^a twelve good months in puffing and paddling and talkmg 
 S walking-having travelled over all HoUand, and even 
 taken a peep into France and Germany-ha.-ing smoked five 
 hmrdred and ninety-nine pipes, and three hundred weight 
 the best Virginia tobacco-my great-granofather gathered to- 
 gether all that knowing and industrious class of citizens who 
 prefer attending to any body's business sooner than their own 
 and having puUed off his coat and five pan- o£ breeches, he 
 advanced sturdily up, and laid the corner-stone of the church, 
 ^Ihe presence of the whole multitude-just at the commence- 
 ment of the thirteenth month. _ 
 
 In a similar manner, and ^vith the example ox my worthy 
 ancestor full before my eyes, have I proceeded m ^^ting this 
 most authentic history. The honest Rotterdamers no doubt 
 thought my great-grandfather was doing nothing at all to the 
 pm-ptse, Afle he was maldng such a world of prefatory 
 bustle about the buildmg of his church-and many of the m- 
 gen ous inhabitants of this fail- city will "!^"ftionably sup- 
 lose that an the preliminary chapters, mth the discovery, 
 rp^lation, and final settlement of America, were irre- 
 levant and si.perfiuous-and that the maan business, the his- 
 tory of New Tork, is not a jot more advanced than if I had 
 never taken up my pen. Never were J^^^^^lt 
 taken in their conjectures; in consequence of gomg tojoi^ 
 slowly and deUberately, the church came out of my giand- 
 f-ther's hands one of the most sumptuous, goodly, and glorious 
 ecUfices in the known world-excepting that, like our magni- 
 ficent capitol, at Washington, it was begim on so g^aiid a scale 
 that the good folks could not afford to finish more than the 
 wing of ft. So, hkewise, I tn.ist, if ever I am able to finish 
 this work on the plan I have commenced, (of which, m simple 
 truth, I sometimes have my doubts,) it will be ^hat I 
 
 have pursued the latest ndes of my art, as exemplified m the 
 writings of all the great American historians, and wrought ^ 
 verv larsre historv out of a small snbject-which now-a-rtays .s 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK 
 
 57 
 
 considered one of the great triumphs of historic skill. To pro- 
 ceed, then, with the thread of my story. 
 
 Ill the ever- memorable year of our Lord, 1009, on a Satur- 
 day morning, the five-and- twentieth day of March, old style, did 
 that "worthy and irrecoverable discoverer, (as he has justly 
 deen 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 liistorians call him, Hendrick) 
 Hudson, was a sea farmg man of renown, who had learned to 
 smoke tobacco under Sir Walter Ealeigh, 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 
 favour in the eyes of their High Mightinesses, the Lords States 
 General, and also of the honourable W est India Company, 
 He w^as 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 neighbourhood of his tobacco-pipe. 
 
 He wore a tme Andrea Fcrrara, 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 unhke the 
 brattling of a tin trumpet — owing to the number of hard 
 north- westers which he had swallowed in the course of his sea- 
 faring. 
 
 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 statu- 
 aries, that they may represent him as he v/as ; and not, accord- 
 ing to their common custom with modern heroes, make him 
 look Like Ceesar, or Marcus Aurelius, or the Apollo of Belvi- 
 dere. 
 
 As chief mate and favourite companion, the commodore 
 3hose master Robert Juet, of Limehouse, in England. By 
 some his name has been spelled Chewit, and ascribed to the 
 circumstance of his having been the first man that ever 
 chewed tobacco; but this I believe to be a mere flippancy; 
 more especially as certain of his progen3y" are living at this 
 day, who write their name Juet. He w^as an old comrade and 
 early schoolmate of the great Hudson, with whom he had 
 often played truant and sailed chip boats in a neighbouring 
 pond, when they were little boys — from whence it is said the 
 
58 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 commodore first derived his bias towards a sea-faring 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. 
 
 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 Sindbad 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 
 wall be all the same thing a hundred years hence." He was 
 skilled in the art of carving anchors and true-lovers' knots on 
 the bulk-heads and quarter-railings, and was considered a great 
 wit on board ship, in consequence of his playing pranks on 
 every body 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 parti- 
 culars 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 accom- 
 panied the expedition in the capacity of cabin-boy. 
 
 From all that I can learn, few incidents worthy of remark 
 happened in the voyage ; and it mortifies me exceedingly that 
 I have to admit so noted an expedition into my work, without 
 making any more of it. 
 
 Sufiice 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 soarkrout, and every 
 man was allowed to sleep quie tly at his post unless the wind 
 blew True it is, some shght disaffection was shown on two 
 or three occasions, at certain unreasonable conduct of Com- 
 modore 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 iceafher-brceders, or prognostics, that the weather 
 would change for the woi-se. He acted, moreover, in direct 
 contradiction to that ancient and sage rule of the Dutch navi- 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW YORK 
 
 59 
 
 gators, who alwas took in sail at night — put the hehn 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 dow^n a continent in the 
 dark. He likemse 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 in- 
 variable Dutch custom at the present day. All these griev- 
 ances, though they might rufiie for a moment the constitu- 
 tional tranquillity of the honest Dutch tars, made but transient 
 impression; they eat hugely, drank profusely, and slept im- 
 measurably, and being under the especial guidance of Pro- 
 vidence, 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 w^hich had never before been 
 visited by any European.* 
 
 It has been traditionary in our family, that when the greax 
 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 admi- 
 ration. He is said to have turned to master Juet, and 
 
 * 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 fonnd 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 coun- 
 tenance of certain very judicious and learned men) I hold in utter disbelief, and 
 that for various good and substantial reasons: i^ms^. Because on strict examina- 
 tion it will be found, that the description given b.y this Verazzani applies about as 
 well to the bay of New-York as it does to my night-cap. Secovdh/, Because that this 
 John Verazzani, for whom I already begin to feel a most bitter enmJty. is a native 
 of Florence; and every body knows the crafty wiles of these losel Florentines, by 
 which they filched away the laurels from the brows of the im.mortal Colon, (vulgar- 
 ly called Columbus,) and bestowed them on their otScious townsman. Amerigo 
 Vespucci; and I make no doubt they are equally ready to rob the illustrious Hud- 
 son of the credit of discovering this beautiful island, adorned by '-he city of New- 
 York, and placing it beside their usurped discovery of South America. And, 
 thirdly. I award my decision in favour of the pretensions of Hendrick Hudson, in- 
 asmuch as his expedition sailed from Holland, being truly and absolutely a Dutch 
 enterprise— and though all the proofs in the world were introduced on the other 
 side, I would set them at nought, as undeserving my attention. If these three 
 reasons be not sutTicient to satisfy every burgher of this ancieiit city— all I can say 
 is, they are degenerate descendants from their venerable Dutch ancestors, and 
 totally unw^orthy the trouble of convincing. Thus, therefore, the title of Hendrick 
 Hudsop to his renowned discovery is fully vindicated. 
 
60 
 
 A UISTORY OF NEW- TORE. 
 
 uttered these remarkable words, while he pointed towards 
 this paradise of the new world — ''See! there!" — and there- 
 upon, as was always his way when he was uncommonly 
 pleased, he did putf 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 gi-eat-gi-eat-gi-andfather used to say 
 — though in truth I never heard him, for he died, as might 
 be expected, before I was born — "it was indeed a spot on 
 which the eye might have revelled for ever, in ever-new 
 and never-ending beauties.'' The island of Mannahata spread 
 wide before them, like some sweet vision of fancy, or some 
 fair creation of industrious magic. Its hills of smihng 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 burthen of clambering vines, 
 bowing their branches to the earth, that was covered with 
 flowers. On the gentle dechvities of the hills were scattered, 
 in ga,y 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 fohage; 
 and here and there a curling column of smoke rising from 
 the little glens that opened along the shore, seemed to promise 
 the weary voyagers a welcome at the hands of their fellow- 
 creatures. As they stood gazing with entranced attention 
 on the scene before them, a red man, crowned with feathers, 
 issued from one of these glens, and after contemplating in 
 silent wonder the gallant ship, as she sat like a stately swan 
 swimming on a silver lake, sounded the war-whoop, and 
 bounded into the woods hke a wild deer, to the utter astonish- 
 ment of the plilegmatic 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 coi^per pipes, and ate dried cur- 
 rants; how they brought gi'cat store of tobacco and oystei'S; 
 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 sea-faring, our voyagers 
 weighed anchor, to explore a mighty river which emptied into 
 the bay. Tiiis river, it is said, was known among the savages 
 
A UISTOUY OF NEW -YORK. 
 
 61 
 
 by the name of the Shatemuck; though we are assured, in an 
 excellent little history published in 1G74, by John Josselyn, 
 Gent., tliat it was called the Mohegan* and master Richard 
 Bloonie, who wrote some time afterwards, asserts the same— so 
 that 1 very much incline in favour of the opinion of these 
 two honest gentlemen. Bo 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 ! 
 
 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-fellov/, Robert 
 Juet, which does such vast credit to their experimental ptilo- 
 sophy, 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 vitre, that they were all merrie; and one of them 
 had his wife with him, which sate so modestly, as any of our 
 countrey women would do in a strange place. In the end one 
 of them was drunke, which had been aboarde of our ship all 
 the time that we had been there, and that was strange to them, 
 for they could not tell how to take it."t 
 
 Having satisfied himself by this ingenious experiment, that 
 the natives were an honest, social race of jolly roysiers, who 
 had no objection to a drinking bout, and were very merry in 
 their cups, the old comm.odore chuckled hugely to himself, and 
 thrusting a double quid of tobacco in his cheek, directed mas- 
 ter Juet to have it carefully recorded, for the satisfaction of 
 all the natural philosophers of the university of Ley den — 
 which done, he proceeded on his voyage, with great self-compla- 
 cency. 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 per- 
 fectly 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 com 
 
 *Thi.s river is likewise laid down in Ogilvy's map as Manhattan — Noordt — Mou' 
 tai{2:ne and Mauritius river. 
 + Juet's Journ. Purch. Pil. 
 
62 
 
 A IIL^TOJIY OF JS'KW YORK. 
 
 eluded, that there was but httle 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 
 0])inion— upon this the ship was warped oif and put about, vnth 
 great difficulty, being, like most of her sex, exceedingly hard 
 to govern ; and the adventurous Hudson, according to the ac- 
 count of my great-gi*eat-grandfather, returned down the rivei* 
 — with a prodigious flea in his ear ! 
 
 Being satisfied that there was httle hkelihood of getting to 
 China, unless, lilce 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 
 honourable East India Company, who 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 detei-mined, that as a munifi- 
 cent reward for the eminent services he had performed, and 
 the important discovery he had made, the great river Mohegan 
 should be called after his name ! — and it continues to be called 
 Hudson river unto this very day. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 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 THERE- 
 FROBI— A GREAT VICTORY, AND A DESCRIPTION OF THE ANCIENT 
 VILLAGE OF COmiUNIPAW. 
 
 The delectable accounts given by the gi^eat Hudson, and 
 m.aster Juet, of the country they had discovered, excited not a 
 Uttle 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 wliich 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 
 ^ve a name to Block Island, since famous for its cheese— and 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 6B 
 
 shall barely confine myself to that which gave birth to this re- 
 nowned city. 
 
 It was some three or four years after the return of the im- 
 mortal Ilcndrick, 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 
 sca-captams, 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 be- 
 getting a race of Knickerbockers, that should rise to be great 
 men in the land. 
 
 The sliip in v^^hich these illustrious adventurers set sail was 
 cahed the Goede Vrouw, or good woman, in compliment to the 
 wife of the President of the West India Company, who was al- 
 lowed by every body (except her husband) to be a sweet-tem- 
 pered lady — when not in liquor. It was in truth a most gallant 
 vessel, of the most approved Dutich 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 stem-post to the talferel. Like the beauteous 
 model, who was declared to be the greatest belle in Amster- 
 dam, it was full in the bows, with a pair of enormous cat- 
 heads, a copper bottom, and, withal, a most prodigious poop ! 
 
 The architect, who was somewha-t of a rehgious man, far 
 from decorating the ship with pagan idols, such as Jupiter, 
 Neptune, or Hercules, (wliich 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 tnmk-hose, and a 
 pipe that reached to the end of the bowsprit. Thus gallantly 
 furnished, the staunch ship floated sideways, like a majestic 
 goose, out of the harbour of tho great city of Amsterdam, and 
 all the beHs, that were not otherwise engaged, rang a triple 
 bobmajor on the joyful occasion. 
 
 My great-great-grandfather remarks, that the voyage was 
 
C4 
 
 A mSTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 uncommonly prosperous, for, being under the especial care of 
 the ever-revered St. Nicholas, the Goede Vrouw seemed to bo 
 endowed with qualities unknown to common vessels. Thus she 
 made as much lee-way as head-way, could get along very 
 nearly as fast with the wind a-head, as when it was a-poop— 
 and was particularly great in a calm ; in consequence of which 
 singular 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 em- 
 bowered in a grove of spreading elms, and the natives all col- 
 lected 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 most friendly terms ; but so horribly con- 
 founded 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 Cause- 
 way. 
 
 Animated by this unlooked-for victory, our vahant heroes 
 sprang ashore in triumph, took possession of the soil as con- 
 querors 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 vigor- 
 ously defended by some half-a-score of old squaws and pap- 
 pooses. On looking about them, they were so transported with 
 the excellencies 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 dikes and da.ms; the shallowness of the shore 
 was peculiarly favourable to the building of docks — in a word, 
 this spot abounded with all the requisites for the foundation of 
 a great Dutcli city. On making a faithful report, therefore, to 
 the crew of the Goede Vrouw, they one and all determmed that 
 
 I 
 
A niSTORT NEW-YORK. 
 
 m 
 
 this was the destined end of their voyage. Accordingly they 
 dosconded from the Goede Vrouw, men, women, and cliildren, 
 m goodly groups, as did the animals of yore from the ark, and 
 cormed themselves into a thriving settlement, which they called 
 by the Indian name Communipaw. 
 
 As all the world is doubtless perfectly acquainted with Com- 
 inunipaw, it may seem somewhat superfluous to treat of it in 
 the present work ; but my readers will please to recollect, that 
 notwithstanding it is my chief desire to satisfy the present age, 
 yet I write hkewise for posterity, and have to consult the 
 imderstanding and curiosity of some half a score of centuries 
 yet to come ; by wliich time, perhaj^s, Avere it not for this in- 
 valuable history, the great Communipaw, like Babylon, Car- 
 thage, Nineveh, and other great cities, might be perfectly ex- 
 tinct — sunk and forgotten in its ow^n mud — its inhabitants 
 turned into oysters,* and even its situation a fertile subject of 
 learned controversy and ha,rd-headed investigation among in- 
 defatigable historians. Let me then piously rescue from ob- 
 livion 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 sit- 
 uated, among rural scenery, on that beauteous part of the Jer- 
 sey shore which was known in ancient legends by the name of 
 Pavonia,t 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, proAaded you have a fa.ir 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 sununer 
 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 
 neighbourhood of this city, that they always laugh loudest— 
 which he attributes to the circumstance of their having theii 
 hoHday clothes on. 
 
 These negroes, in fact, likie the monks in the dark ages, 
 engross all the knowledge ol the place, and being infinitely 
 
 * Men by inaction de.srenerate into oysters. — Kaimes. 
 
 t Pavonia. ia the ancient maps, is given to a tract ot country extending from 
 about Hoboken to Amboy. 
 
66 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW TORK. 
 
 more adventurous and more knowing than their masters, carry 
 on all the foreign tiade; 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 more- 
 over exquisite performers on three-stringed fiddles : in whis- 
 tling, they almost boast the far-famed powers of Orpheus's lyre, 
 "or 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 disci- 
 ples of Pythagoras of yore, when initiated into the sacred qua- 
 ternary of numbers. 
 
 As to the honest burghers of Communipaw, like wise men 
 and sound philosofjhers, they never look beyond their pipes, 
 nor trouble their heads about any affairs out of their immediate 
 neighbourhood; 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 vv^hich they have heard so much 
 from tradition, is situated somewhere on Long Island — that 
 SpiMng-devil and the Narroics 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 after- 
 noon 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 conviviahty, 
 and invariably drink a mug of cider to the success of Admiral 
 Van Tromp, who they imagine is still sweeping the British 
 channel, wdth a broom at his mast-head. 
 
 Communipaw, in short, is one of the numerous httle villages 
 in the vicinity of this most beautiful of cities, which are so 
 many strong-holds and fastnesses, whither the primitive man- 
 ners 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 
 
A BISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 67 
 
 unadulterated by barbarous innovations; and so critically cor- 
 rect 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. 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 IN WHICH IS SET FORTH THE TRUE ART OF MAKING A BARGAIN 
 —TOGETHER WITH THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE OF A GREAT ME- 
 TROPOLIS 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 settle- 
 ment went jollily on, increasing in magnitude and prosperity. 
 The neighbouring Indians in a short time became accustomed 
 to the uncouth sound of the Dutch language, and an inter- 
 course gradually took place between them and the new comers. 
 The Indians were much given to long talks, and the Dutch to 
 long silence — in this particular, therefore, they accommodated 
 each other completely. The chiefs would make long speeches 
 about the big bull, the wabash, and the great spirit, to which 
 the others would hsten very attentively, smoke their pipes- and 
 grunt yah, myn-her — whereat the poor savages were wondrously 
 delighted. They instructed the new settlers in the best art of 
 curing and smoking tobacco, while the latter, in return, made 
 them di'unk with true Hollands— and then taught them the art 
 of making bargains. 
 
 A brisk trade for furs was soon opened: the Dutch traders 
 were scrupulously honest in their dealings, and purchased by 
 weight, establishing it as an invariable table of avoirdupois, 
 that the hand of a Dutchman weighed one pound, and his foot 
 two pounds. It is true, the simple Indians were often puzzled 
 by the great disproportion between bulk and weight, for let 
 them place a bundle of furs, never so large, in one scale, and a 
 
68 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 Dutcbman 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 mountamous, and 
 the latter level and marshy. About this time the tranquillity 
 of the Dutch colonistc was doomed to suffer a temporary in- 
 terruption. In 1G14, Captain Sir Samuel Argal, sailing under a 
 conmiission from Dale, governor of Virginia, visited the Dutch 
 settlements on Hudson Eiver, and demanded their submission 
 to the Enghsh crown and Virginian dominion. To this arro- 
 gant demand, as they were in no condition to resist it, they 
 submitted for the time like discreet and reasonable men. 
 
 It does, not appear that the valiant Argal molested the settle- 
 ment 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 httle Dutch settlement lay snugly couched in the mud, 
 under cover of all this pestilent vapour. In commemoration 
 of tliis fortunate escape, the worthy inhabitants have continued 
 to smoke, almost without intermission, unto this very day; 
 w^hich is said to be the cause of the remarkable fog that often 
 hangs over Communipaw of a clear afternoon. 
 
 Upon the departure of the enemy, our magnanimous ances- 
 tors took full six months to recover their wind, having beeji 
 exceedingly discomposed by the consternation and hurry of 
 affairs. They then called a council of safety to smoke over 
 the state of the province. After six months more of mature 
 deliberation, during which nearly five himdred words were 
 spoken, and almost as much tobacco was smoked as would 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YOBR. 
 
 69 
 
 have served a certain modern general through a whoLo winter's 
 campaign of hard drinking, it was determined to fit out an 
 armament of canoes, aiid despatch them on a voyage of dis- 
 covery; to search if, peradventure, some moi'o sure and for- 
 midable position might not be found, where the colony would 
 be less subject to vexatious visitations. 
 
 This perilous enterprise was intrusted to the superintendence 
 of Mynheers Oloiie Van Kortlandt, Abraham Hardenbroeck, 
 Jacobus Van Zandt, and Winant Ten Broeck— four indubitably 
 great men, but of whose history, although I have made diligent 
 inquiry, I can learn but little, previous to their leaving Hoi- 
 land. Nor need this occasion much surprise ; for adventurers, 
 like prophets, though they make great noise abroad, have sel- 
 dom much celebrity in their own countries ; but this much is 
 certain, that the overflo wings and offscourings of a country are 
 invariably composed of the richest parts of the soil. And here 
 I cannot help remarking how convenient it would be to many 
 of our great men and great families of doubtful origin, could 
 fcliey 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 tres- 
 pass on the truth, though it has occasionally been played off 
 by some pseudo marquis, baronet, and other illustrious for- 
 eigner, in our land of good-natured credulity, has been com- 
 pletely discountenanced in this sceptical matter-of-fact age— 
 and I even question whether any tender virgin, who was acci- 
 dentally and unaccountably enriched with a banthng, would 
 save her character at parlour firesides and evening tea-parties 
 by ascribing the phenomenon to a swan, a shower of gold, or a 
 river-god. 
 
 Thus being denied the benefit of mythology and classic fable, 
 I should have been completely at a loss as to the early biography 
 of my lieroes, had not a gleam of light been thrown upon their 
 origin from their names. 
 
 By this simple means, have I been enabled to gather some 
 particulars concerning the adventurers in question. Van Kort- 
 landt, for instance, v/as one of those peripatetic philosophers 
 who tax Providence for a livelihood, and, like Diogenes, enjo;/ 
 a free and unencumbered estate m simshine. He was usually 
 arrayed in garments suitable to his fortune, being curiously 
 fringed and f angled by the hand of time ; and was helmeted 
 
70 
 
 A UISTORY OF NEW-TOllK. 
 
 with an old fragment of a hat, which had acquired the shape 
 of a sugar-loaf ; and so far did he carry his contempt for the 
 adventitious distinction of dress, that it is said thi^ remnant oi 
 a shirt, which covered his back, and dandled like a pocket- 
 handkerchief out of a hole in his breeches, was never washed 
 except by the bountiful showers of heaven. In this garb was 
 he usually to be seen, sunning himself at noon-day, with a herd 
 of philosophers of the same sect, on the side of the great canal 
 of Amsterdam. Like your nobdity of Europe, he took his 
 name of Kortlandt (or lackland) from his landed estate, which 
 lay somewhere in terra incognita. 
 
 Of the next of our worthies, might I have had the benefit of 
 mythological assistance, the want of which I have just lament- 
 ed, I should have made honourable mention, as boasting equally 
 illustrious pedigree with the proudest hero of antiquity. His 
 name of Van Zandt, which, being freely translated, signifies, 
 from the dirt, meaning, beyond a doubt, that, hke Triptole- 
 mus, Themis, the Cyclops and the Titans, he sprang from dame 
 Terra, or the earth ! This supposition is strongly corroborated 
 by his size, for it is well known that all the progeny of mother 
 earth were of a gigantic stature ; and Van Zandt, we are told, 
 was a tall, raw-boned man, above six feet high — with an aston- 
 ishing 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 ut- 
 most gravity, did originally spring from a dunghill ! 
 
 Of the third hero, but a faint description has reached to this 
 time, which mentions that he was a sturdy, obstinate, burly, 
 bustling little man : and from being usually equipped with an 
 old pair of buckskins, was familiarly dubbed Harden Broeck, 
 or Tough Breeches. 
 
 Ten Broeck completed this junto of adventurers. It is a 
 singular, but ludicrous fact, which, were I not scmpulous 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 tliis worthy gentleman should likewise have 
 been nicknamed from the most whimsical part of his dress. In 
 fact, the small-clothes seems to have been a very Important 
 garment m the eyes of our venerated ancestors, owing in all 
 probability to its really being the largest article of raiment 
 among them. The name of Ten Broeck, or Tin Broeck, is 
 indifferently translated into Ten Breeches and Tin Breeches- 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 71 
 
 the High Dutch commentators incMne to the former opim'on; 
 and ascribe it to his being the first who introduced into the 
 settlement the ancient Dutch fashion of wearing ten pair of 
 breeches. But the most elegant and ingenious writers on the 
 subject declare in favour of Tin, or rather Thin Breeches; 
 from whence they infer, that he was a poor, but merry rogue, 
 ' whose galligaskins were none of the soundest, and who was 
 the identical 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!" 
 
 Such was the gallant junto chosen to conduct this voyage 
 into unknown realms ; and the whole was put under the super- 
 intending care and direction of Oloif e Van Kortlandt, who was 
 held in great reverence among the sages of Communipaw, for 
 the variety and darkness of his knowledge. Having, as I 
 before observed, passed a great part of his life in the open air, 
 among the peripatetic philosophers of Amsterdam, he had 
 become amazingly well acquainted 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. He was moreover a great seer of ghosts and 
 goblins, and a firm believer in omens; but what especially 
 recommended him to public confidence was his marvellous 
 talent at dreaming, for there never was anything of conse- 
 quence happened at Communipaw but what he declared he 
 had previously dreamt it ; being one of those infallible prophets 
 who always predict events after they have come to pass. 
 
 This supernatural gift was as highly valued among the 
 burghers of Pavonia, as it was among the enlightened nations 
 of antiquity. The wise Ulysses was more indebted to his 
 sleeping than his waking moments for all his subtle achieve- 
 ments, and seldom undertook any great exploit without first 
 soundly sleeping upon it ; and the same may truly be said of 
 the good Van Kortlandt, who was thence aptly denominated, 
 Ololf e the Dreamer. 
 
 This cautious commander, having chosen the crews that 
 should accompany him in the proposed expedition, exhorted 
 them to repair to their homes, take a good night's rest, settle 
 aJ] fa,mily affairs, and make their wills, before departing on 
 
72 
 
 A in^TOllY OF NEW- YORE. 
 
 this voyage into unknomi realms. And indeed this last was 
 a precaution always taken by our foreiathers, even in after 
 times, Avhen they became more adventurous, and voyaged to 
 Haverstraw, or Kaatskill, or Groodt Esopus, or any other far 
 coimtry that lay beyond the great waters of the Tappaan Zee. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW THE HEROES OF COMMUNIPAW VOYAGED TO HELL-GATE, 
 AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED THERE. 
 
 And now the vo^j blush of morn began to mantle in the 
 east, and soon the rising sun, emerging from amidst golden 
 and purple clouds, shed his bhthesome rays on the tin weather- 
 cocks of Communipaw. It was that delicious season of the 
 year, when nature, breaking from the chilling thraldom of old 
 'v\Tnter, hke a blooming daD:isel from the tyranny of a sordid 
 old father, threw herself, blushing with ten thousand channs, 
 into the arms of youthful spring. Every tufted copse and 
 blooming gi'ove 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 epithala- 
 mimn— 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 tliine oaten reed, wherewith thou erst did charm the 
 gay Sicilian plains. — Or, oh I gentle Bion! thy pastoral pipe, 
 wherein the happy swains of the Lesbian isle so much de- 
 Hghted, then might I attempt to sing, in soft BucoUc or negli- 
 gent Idyllium, the rural beauties of the scene — ^but having 
 nothing, save this jaded gooso-quill, wherewith to wing my 
 flight, I must fain resign all poetic dispor tings 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 may it commend itself, with 
 virgm modesty, to his better judgment, clothed in the chaste 
 and simple gar]^ of truth. 
 
 No sooner did the first rays of cheerful Phoebus dart mto th e 
 windows of Communipaw, than the little settlement was all in 
 motion. Forth issued from his castle the sage Van Kortlandt 
 
A UISTOUY 01' NEW- TOME. 
 
 73 
 
 and seizing a conch-shell, biev/ 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 ^vith bundles, 
 and bandboxes, escorting somo bevy of country cousuis 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 Httle round Dutch boat, 
 shaped not unhke a tub, which had formerly been the jolly- 
 boat of the Goede Vrouw. And now all being embarked, they 
 bade farewell to the gazing thi'ong upon the beach, who con- 
 tinued shouting after them, even when out of hearing, wishing 
 them a happy voyage, advising them to take good care of 
 themselves, and 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 adven- 
 ture upon the deep waters. In the meanwliile, the voyagers 
 cheerily urged their course across the crystal bosom of the 
 bay, and soon left behind them the green shores of ancient 
 Pavonia. 
 
 And first they touched at two small islands which he nearly 
 opposite Communipaw, and wliich are said to have been 
 brought into existence about the time of the gi^eat irmption of 
 the Hudson, when it broke through the Highlands, and made 
 its way to the ocean.* For in this tremendous uproar of the 
 Tv^aters, we are told that many huge fragments of rock and 
 land were rent from the mountains and swept down by this 
 runawa;y 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 
 
 * It is a matter long since established by certain of our philosophers, that is 
 to say, liaving been often a.ilvaiiced, and never contradicted, it has grown to be 
 pretty nig>. 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. Ttiis i'S said to have come to pass 
 in very remote time; probably before that, rivers had lost the art of running un 
 hill. The foregoing is a theory in which I do not pretend to be skilled, notwitli- 
 standing that I do fully give it my belief. 
 
74 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORE. 
 
 of the fact is, that the rock which forms the bases of these 
 islands is exactly similar to that of the Highlands, and, more- 
 over, one 01 our philosophers, who has diligently compared the 
 agreement of their respective sm^faces, has even gone so far as 
 to assure me, in contidence, that Gibbet Island was originally 
 nothing more nor less than a wart on Anthony's Nose.* 
 
 Leaving these Avonderful httle 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 spiiits, 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 spout- 
 ing up the briny element in sparkling showers. No sooner did 
 the sage Oioffe mark this, than he was greatly rejoiced. 
 " Tliis," exclaimed he, " if I mistake not, augurs well— the por- 
 poise is a fat, weU-conditioned fish — a burgomaster among 
 fishes— his looks betoken ease, plenty, and prosperity — I 
 gi-eatly admire this round, fat fish, and doubt not but this 
 is a happy omen of the success of our undertaking. " So say- 
 ing, he directed his squadron to steer in the track of these 
 alderman fishes. 
 
 Turnmg, therefore, directly to the left, they swept up the 
 strait vulgarly called the East River. And here the rapid 
 tide which courses through this strait, seizing on the gallant 
 tub in which Commodore Van Kortlandt had embarked, hur- 
 ried it forward Avith a velocity unparalleled in a Dutch boat, 
 navigated by Dutchmen ; insomuch that the good commodore, 
 who had all his life long been rccustomed 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,t and leav- 
 ing 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 refresliing to 
 the eye. While the voyagers were looking around them, on 
 
 * A promontory in the Highlands. 
 
 t Properly spelt hoeck, (». e., a point of land.) 
 
A IIISTOIIT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 75 
 
 what they conceived to be a serene and sunny lake, they 
 beheld at a distance a crew of painted savages, busily em- 
 ployed in fishing, who seemed more like the genii of this 
 romojitic region — their slender canoe lightly balanced like a 
 feather on the undulating surface of the bay. 
 
 At sight of these, the hearts of the heroes of Communipaw 
 were not a little troubled. But as good fortune w^ould have it, 
 at the bow of the commodore's boat was stationed a very 
 valiant man, named Hendrick Kip, (w^hich 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 valour, and although a good half mile distant, 
 he seized a musquetoon 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, tha,t laid him prostrate with uplifted heels in 
 the bottom of the boat. But such w^as the effect of this tre- 
 mendous fire, that the w^ild men of the Avoods, struck with con- 
 sternation, seized hastily upon their paddles, and fehot away 
 into one of the deep inlets of the Long Island shore. 
 
 This signal victory gave new spirits to the hardy voyagers, 
 and in honour 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 at the sumptuous 
 prospect of rich, unsettled country around Mm, and falhng 
 into a delicious reverie, he straightway began to riot in the 
 possession of vast meadows of salt marsh and interminable 
 patches of cabbages. From this delectable vision he w^as 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; w^here they 
 accordingly landed hard by the rocky heights of Bellevue— 
 that happy retreat, where our jolly aldermen eat for the good 
 of the city, and fatten the turtle that are sacrificed on civic 
 solemnities. 
 
 Here, seated on the greensward, by the side of a small stream 
 that ran sparkling among the grass, they refreshed themselves 
 after the toils of the seas, by feasting lustily on the ample 
 stores which they had pi-ovided for this perilous voyage. 
 Thus having well fortified their deliberative powers, they fell 
 into an earnest consultation, what was farther to be done. 
 
70 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 This was the first council dinner ever eaten at Bellevue by 
 Christian burghers, and here, as tradition relates, did originate 
 the great family I'eud between the Ilardenbroecks and the Ten- 
 broecks, wliich afterwards had a singular influence on the 
 building of the city. The sturdy Hardenbroeck, whose eyes 
 had been wondrously delighted with the salt marshes that 
 spread their reeking bosoms along the coast, at the bottom of 
 Kip's Baj^, counselled by all means to return thither, and found 
 the intended city. This was strenuously opposed by the un- 
 bending Ten Broeck, and many testy arguments passed be- 
 tween 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 detennining 
 to explore still farther in the route ^vhich the mysterious por- 
 poises had so clearly pointed out — whereupon the sturdy Tough 
 Breeches abandoned the expedition, took possession of a neigh- 
 bouring 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 Phoebus, like some wanton urchin 
 sporting on the side of a green hill, began to roll down the 
 declivity of the heavens ; and now, the tide having once more 
 turned in their favour, the resolute Pavonians again committed 
 themselves to its discretion, and coasting along the western 
 shores, were borne towards the straits oi 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, sweep- 
 ing round a jutting point, would wind deep into some romantic 
 little cove, that indented the fair island of Manna-hata; now 
 were they hurried narrowly by the very basis of impending 
 rocks, mantled with the flaunting grape-vine, and crowned 
 with groves that 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 fii-ma 
 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! 
 
A niSTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 77 
 
 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 tuhp-tree 
 reared its majestic head, the giant of the forest. Where now 
 are seen the gay retreats of luxury— villas half buried in twi- 
 light bowers, whence the amorous flute oft breathes the sighings 
 of some city swain— there the fish-hawk builb his solitary nest, 
 on some dry tree that overlooked his watery domain. The 
 Sjimid 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 Jonese ^, 
 the Schermerhornes, and the Ehinelanders. 
 
 Thus gliding in silent wonder through these new and unknowTi 
 scenes, the gallant squadron of Pavonia SYvept by the foot of a 
 promontory that strutted forth boldly into the waves, and 
 seemed to fro^vn upon them as they brawled against its base. 
 This is the bhiif weU known to modern mariners by the name 
 of Grade'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 bea,ute- 
 ously intermingled, as though they had combined to heighten 
 and set off each other's cha^rms. To their right lay the sedgy 
 point of Blackwell's Island, drest in the fresh garniture of living 
 green — beyond it stretched the pleasant coast of Sundswick, 
 and the small harbour 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 be- 
 held 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; vfhile over 
 the whole the purple mists of spring dllfused a hue of soft 
 voluptuousness. 
 
 Just before them the grand course of the stream, making a 
 sudden bend, wound among em]:)owered 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 
 
78 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 n 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 I fatal its caresses I 
 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 scene before them, drifted 
 quietly on, until they were aroused by an uncommon tossing 
 and agitation of their vessels. For now the late dimpling cur- 
 rent 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 neighboming shores driving through 
 the air ! 
 
 At length the mighty tub of Commodore Van Kortlandt was 
 drawn into the vortex of that tremendous whirlpool called 
 the Pot, where it was w^hirled 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 revolu- 
 tion. 
 
 How the gallant squadron of Pavonia was snatched from the 
 laws of this modem Charybdis, has never been truly made 
 known, for so many Burvived to tell the tale, and, what is still 
 more wonderful, told it m 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 yell- 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW YORK 
 
 70 
 
 ing of hobgoblins, and put his hand into the Pot when they 
 were whirled around and found the water scalding hot, and 
 beheld several uncouth-looking beings seated on rocks and 
 Bkimniing 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 in the Frying-pan ! 
 
 These, hov/ever, were considered by many as mere phantasies 
 of the commodore's imagination, 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 cei-tain, 
 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 coraimander gave 
 this pass the name of Helle-gat, or as it has been interpreted, 
 Hell- Gate ; * which it continues to bear at the present day. 
 
 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 
 
 *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 appella- 
 tions, such as the Gridiron, Frying-pan, Hog's Back, Pot, &c., and are very violent 
 and turbulent at certain times of the tide. Certain wise men, who instruct these 
 modern days, have softened the above characteristic name into Hurl-gate, which 
 means nothing. I leave them to give their own etymology. The name as given by 
 our author is supported by the map in Vander Donck's history, published in 1656-— 
 \>Y Ogilvie's history of America, 1671— as also by a journal still extant, woitten in 
 the 16th centuiy, 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, ob 
 serves, " De Helle-gat trou d'Enfer, ils ont fait Hell-Cate, Porte d'Enfer." 
 
80 
 
 A niSTQRY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 elements, and tlie howling of the hobgoblins that infested this 
 l)orridious strait. But when the morning dawned, the horrors 
 of the preceding evening liad passed away,- rapids^ breakers, 
 and wliirlpools had disappeared ; the stream again ran smooth 
 and dimi3ling, and having changed its tide, rolled gently back, 
 towards the quarter where lay their much-regretted home. 
 
 The woe-bcgone 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 Ruleif Hopper, they took possession of 
 all the country lying about the six -mile stone ; which is held 
 by the Hoppers at this present ^^^.'iting. 
 
 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 : from whence, it is said, did spring the fair town of 
 Haerlem, in v.diich their descendants have ever since con- 
 tinued to be reputable pubhcans. 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 Broeclv, who, falling overboard, was miraculously 
 preserved from sinking by the multitude of his nether gar- 
 ments. Thus buoyed up, he floated on the waves like a mer- 
 man, or like the cork float of an angler, until he landed safely 
 on a rocli, where he was found the next morning, busily dry- 
 ing his many breeches in the sunshhie. 
 
 I forbear to treat of the long consultation of our adventurers 
 — ^how they determined that it would not do to found a city in 
 this diabolical neighbourhood— and how at length, with fear 
 and trembling, tliej ventured once mor^ upon the briny ele- 
 ment, and steered their course back for Communipavv^ Suffice 
 it. in simx^le brevity, to say, that after toiling back through the 
 scenes of their yesterday's voyage, thej at length opened the 
 southern point of Manna-hata. and gained a distant view of 
 their beloved Communipaw. 
 
 And liere they were opposed by an obstinate eddy, that re- 
 sisted all the efforts of the exhausted mariners. Weary and 
 dispirited, they could no longer make head against the powei 
 of the tide, or rather, as some will have it, of old Neptune, 
 who, anxious to guide them to a spot whereon should b^ 
 founded his stronghold in this western world, sent half a score 
 of potent billows, that rolled the tub of Commodore Van Kort- 
 landt high and dry on the shores of Manna-hata. 
 
A niSrORY OF NEW-YORK 
 
 81 
 
 Having thus in a manner been guided by supernatural 
 po^ver to this deliglitful island, liheir first care ^vas to light a 
 fire at the foot of a large tree, that stood upon the point at 
 present ctilled the Batteiy. Then -gathering together great 
 store of oystf^rs which abounded on the shore, and emptying 
 the contents of their wallets, they prepared and made a sump- 
 tuous council repast. The worthy Van Kortlandt was observed 
 to be particularly zealous in his devotions to the trencher ; for 
 having the cares of the cxi^odition especially committed to his 
 care, he deemed it incumbent on 'lim 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 
 the worthy Oloffe having swallowed ^he last possible morsel, 
 and washed it doAvn with a fervent potation, felt his heart 
 yearning, and his whole frame in a manner dilating with un- 
 bounded benevolence. Every thing around him seemed excel- 
 lent 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 ex- 
 claimed, 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 sunk upon the green turf, and a deep sleep stole gradu- 
 ally upon him. 
 
 And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream— and lo, the good St. 
 Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees, in that self- 
 same wagon wherein he brings his yearly presents to children, 
 and he came and descended hard by where the heroes of Com- 
 munipaw had made their late repast. And the shrewd Van 
 Kortlandt knew him by his broad hat, his long pipe, and the 
 resemblance which he bore to the figure on the bow of the 
 Goede Vrouw. And he lit his pipe by the fire, and sat himself 
 dovvTi 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 ii more 
 
82 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YOliK 
 
 attentively, he fancied that the great volume of smoke as- 
 sumed a variety of marvellous forms, where in dim obscurity 
 ho saw shadowed out palaces and domes and lolty spires, all of 
 wliich lasted but a moment, and then faded away, until the 
 whole rolled off, and nothing but the greon woods were left. 
 And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he twisted it in 
 his hat-band, and laying liis finger beside his nose, gave the 
 astonished Van Kortiandt a very significant wink, then mount- 
 ing 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 should be the extent of 
 the city ; inasmuch as the volumes of its smoke should spread 
 over a wide extent of country. And they all, with one voice, 
 assented to this interpretatioR, excepting Mynheer Ten Broeck, 
 who declared the meaning to be that it should be a city wherein 
 a little fire should occasion a great smoke, or in other words, a 
 very vapouring 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 
 more in honour 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 FOUND- 
 ING OF THE GREAT CITY OF NEW- AMSTERDAM. 
 
 The original name of the island wherein the squadron of 
 Communipaw was thus propitiously thrown, is a matter of 
 some dispute, and has already undergone considerable vitiation 
 
A UlSTOUY OB' JSEW-YOUK. 
 
 83 
 
 — a melancholy proof of the instabihty of all sublunary things, 
 and the vanity of all our hopes of lasting fame ! For who can 
 expect his name will liv^e to posterity, when even the names of 
 mighty islands are thus soon lost in contradiction and uncer- 
 tainty ? 
 
 The name most current at the present day, and which is 
 likewise countenanced by the great historian Va>nder Donck, 
 is Manhattan ; which is said to have originated in a custom 
 among the squaws, in the early settlement, of wearmg men's 
 hats, as is still done among many tribes. "Hence," as we are 
 told by an old govei-nor 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 appeUation 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 
 Manliadaes and Manahanent ; nor must I forget the excellent 
 little book, full of precious matter, of that authentic historian, 
 John Josselyn, Gent., who expressly caUs 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;* which passed be- 
 tween the early governors and their neighbouring powers, 
 wherein it is called indifferently Monhattoes— Munhatos, and 
 Manhattoes, which are evidently unmiportant variations of 
 the same name; for our wise forefathers set httle store by 
 those niceties either in orthography or orthoepy v/hich form 
 the sole study and ambition of many lea^rned men and women 
 of this hypercritical age. This last name is said to be derived 
 from the great Indian spirit Manetho, who w^as supposed to 
 make this island his favourite abode, on account of its uncom 
 mon 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 uTup- 
 tion of the Hudson laid waste these bhssful scenes, and 
 Manetho took his flight beyond the great waters of Ontario. 
 
 These, however, are fabulous legends to which very cau- 
 tious credence must be given; and although I am willing to 
 
 * Vide Hazarrl s Col. State Papers. 
 
84 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 admit the last quoted orthography of the name, as very suit« 
 able for prose, yet is there another one founded on still more 
 ancient and indisputable authority, wliich I particularly de- 
 light in, seeing that it is at cnce poetical, melodious, and signi- 
 ficant — and this is recorded in the before-mentioned voyage of 
 the great Hudson, written by master Juet; who clearly and 
 correctly colls it Manna-hata — that is to say, the island of 
 Manna, or in other words — "a land flowing with milk and 
 honey." 
 
 It having been solemnly resolved that the seat of empire 
 should be transferred from the gi-een shores of Pavonia to this 
 delectable island, a vast multitude embarked, and migrated 
 across the mouth of the Hudson, under the guidance of Oloffe 
 the Dreamer, who was appointed protector or patron to the 
 new settlement. 
 
 And hear let me bear testimony to the matchless honesty 
 and magnanimity of our worthy forefathers, who purchased 
 the 30.il of the native Indians before erecting a single roof — a 
 circumstance singular and almost incredible in the annals of 
 discovery and colonization. 
 
 The first settlement was made on the south-west point of the 
 island, on the very spot where the good St. Nicholas had ap- 
 peared in the dream. Here they built a mighty and impreg- 
 nable fort and trading house, called Fort Amsterdam, v/l:!ich 
 stood on that eminence at present occupied by the custom- 
 house, with the open space now called the Bowling-Green in 
 front. 
 
 Around this potent fortress was soon seen a numerous pro- 
 geny of little Dutch houses, with tiled roofs, aU which seemed 
 most lovingly to nestle under its walls, like a brood of half- 
 fled gcd chickens sheltered under the wings of the mother hen. 
 The whole was surrounded by an inclosure of strong pahsa- 
 does, to guard against any sudden irmption of the savages, 
 who wandered in hordes about the swamps and forests that 
 extended over those tracts of country at present caUed Broad- 
 way, Wall-street, William-street, and Pearl-street. 
 
 No sooner was the colony once planted, than it took root and 
 throve amazingly; for it would seem that this thrice-favoured 
 island is like a munificent dunghill, where every foreign weed 
 finds kindly nourishment, and soon shoots up and expands to 
 greatness. 
 
 And now the infant settlement having advanced in age and 
 stature, it was thouj:;ht hi^h time it should receive an honest 
 
A UISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 85 
 
 Christian name, and it was accordingly called New-Amster< 
 DAM. It is true, there were some advocates for the original 
 Indian name, and many of the best writers of the province did 
 long continue to call it by the title of ' ' Manhattoes ;" but this 
 was discountenanced by the authorities, as being heathenish 
 and savage. Besides, it was considered an excellent and praise- 
 worthy measure to name it after a great city of the old world ; 
 as by that means it was induced to emulate the greatness and 
 renown of its namesake — in the manner that little snivelling 
 urchins are called after great statesmen, saints, and worthies 
 and renowned generals of yore, upon wliich they all industri- 
 ously copy their examples, and come to be very mighty men in 
 their day and generation. 
 
 The thriving state of the settlement, and the rapid increase 
 of houses, gradually awakened the good Oloffe from a deep 
 lethargy, into which he had faUen after the building of the 
 fort. He now began to think it was time some plan should 
 be devised on which the increasing town should be built. 
 Summoning, therefore, his counsellors and coadjvitors together, 
 they took pipe in mouth, and forthwith sunk into a very sound 
 deliberation on the subiect. 
 
 At the very outset or the business an unexpected difference 
 of opinion arose, and I mention it with much sorrovfing, as 
 being the first altercation on record in the councils of New- 
 Amsterdam. It was a breaking forth of the grudge and heart- 
 burning that had existed between those two eminent burghers, 
 Mynheers Tenbroeck and Hardenbroeck, ever since their un- 
 happy altercation 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 moun- 
 tains that stretched along the gulf of Kip's Bay, and from 
 part of which his descendants have been expelled in later ages 
 by the powerful clans of the Joneses and the Schermerhorncs. 
 
 An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Mynheer Ten- 
 broeck, who proposed that it should be cut up and intersected 
 by canals, after the manner of the most adinired cities in Hol- 
 land. To this Mynheer Hardenbroeck was diametrically op- 
 posed, suggesting in place thereof, that they should run out 
 docks and wharves, by means of piles driven into the bottom 
 of the river, on vv^hich the town should be built. By these 
 means, said he triumphantly, shall we rescue a considerable 
 space of territory from these immense rivers, and build a city 
 that shaU rival Amsterdam, Venice, or any amphibious city io 
 
86 
 
 A UIISTORY OF NEWTORK. 
 
 Europe. To this proposition, Ten Broeck (or Ten Breeches) 
 rcphed, with a look of as much scorn as he could possibly as- 
 sume, lie cast the utmost censure upon the plan of his antago 
 nist, as being preposterous, and against the very order of things, 
 as he would leave to every true Hollander. "For what," eaid 
 he, " is a town without canals? — it is a body without veins and 
 arteries, and must perish for want of a free circulation of the 
 vital fluid." Tough Breeches, on the contrary, retorted with 
 a sarcasm upon his antagonist, who was somewhat of r.n arid, 
 dry-boned habit; he remarked, that as to the circulation of 
 the blood being necessary to existence, Mynheer Ten Breeches 
 was a living contradiction to his own assertion ; for every body 
 knew there had not a drop of blood cu-culated through his 
 wind-dried carcass for good ten years, and yet there was not 
 a greater busy-body in the whole colony. Pei*sonalities have 
 seldom much effect in making converts in argimient — nor 
 have I ever seen a man convinced of error by being convicted 
 of deformity. At least such was not the case at present. Ten 
 Breeches was very acrimonious in reply, and Tough Breeches, 
 who was a sturdy little man, and never gave up the last word, 
 rejomed with mcreasing spirit — Ten Breeches had the advan- 
 tage 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 belaboured him with 
 hard words and sound arguments, yet Tough Breeches hung on 
 most resolutely to the last. They parted, therefore, as is usual 
 in all arguments where both parties are in the right, without 
 coming to any conclusion— but they hated each other most 
 heartily for ever after, and a similar breach Avith that between 
 the houses of Capulct and Montague did ensue between the 
 families of Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. 
 
 I woidd not Fatigue my rep.der 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 oi 
 the critical period, when our city, like a young tmg, first re- 
 ceived the twists and turns that have since contributed to give i 
 it the present picturesque irregularity for which it is cele- ] 
 brated, I cannot be too minute in detaihng their first causes. ( 
 
 After the imhappy altercation T have just mentioned. I do { 
 not find that any thing farther was said on the subject worthy 
 of being recorded. The council, consisting of the largest and 
 
A IIISTOIIY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 87 
 
 oldest heads in the community, met regularly once a wee to 
 ponder on this momentous subject. But either they wer%do- 
 terred by the war of words they had witnessed, or they ^vere 
 naturally averse to the exercise of the tongue, and the conse- 
 quent exercise of the brains — certain it is, the most profound- 
 silence was maintained --the question as usual lay on the table 
 —the members quietly smoked their pipes, making but few 
 laws, without ever enforcing any, and in the meantime the 
 affairs of the settlement went on— as it pleased God. 
 
 As most of the council were but little skilled in the mystery 
 of combinmg pot-hoolcs and hangers, they determined most 
 judiciously not to puzzle either themselves or posterity v/ith 
 voluminous records. The secretary, however, kept the min- 
 utes of the council with tolerable precision, in a large vellum 
 folio, fastened with massy brass clasps; the journal of each 
 meetmg 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 
 noc regulate their time by hours, but pipes, in the same man- 
 ner 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. It is said, moreover, that a regular smoker was ap- 
 pointed as council clock, whose duty was to sit at the elbow 
 of the president and smoke incessantly : every puff marked a 
 division of time as exactly as a second-hand, and the knock- 
 ing out of the ashes of liis pipe was equivalent to striking the 
 hour„ 
 
 In this manner did the profound council of New- Amsterdam 
 smoke, and doze, and ponder, from week to w^eek, month to 
 month, and year to year, in what manner they should con- 
 struct their infant settlement — meanwhile, the town took care 
 of itself, and like a sturdy brat which ?fj suffered to run about 
 wild, unshackled by clouts and bandages ana other abomina,- 
 tions 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 ex- 
 ecution—whereupon they wisely abandoned the subject al 
 together. 
 
88 
 
 A HISTORY OF liEW-YOUK. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW THE CITY OP NEW-AMSTERDAM WAXED GREAT, UNDER THE 
 PROTECTION OF OLOFFE THE DREAMEH. 
 
 There is something exceedingly delusive in thus looking 
 back, through the long vista of departed years, and catching 
 a ghmpse of the fairy realms of antiquity that lie beyond. 
 Like some goodly 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 excellencies 
 of its own creation. Thus beam on my imagination those 
 happier days of our city, when as yet New- Amsterdam was a 
 mere pastoral town, shrouded in groves of sycamore and wil- 
 lows, 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 Provi- 
 dence, increased as rapidly as though it had been burthened 
 with a dozen panniers-full of those sage laws that are usually 
 heaped on the backs of young cities— in order to make them 
 grow. And in this particular I greatly admu-e the wisdom 
 and sound knowledge of human nature, displayed by the sage 
 Oloffe the Dreamer, and his feUow-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, that makes him go the very reverse. 
 The noble independence of his nature revolts at this intolerable 
 tyranny of law, and the perpetual interference of ofiicious mo- , 
 raUty, which is ever besetting his path with finger-posts and ] 
 directions to ''keep to the right, as the law directs;" and g 
 like a spirited urchin, ho 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 Ms leading-strings. 
 And these opinions are amply substantiated by what I have ^ 
 
 i 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 89 
 
 above said of our worthy ancestors; who never being he- 
 preached and he-lectured, and guided and governed by stat- 
 utes 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 earhest measures of this 
 infant settlement, inasmuch as it shows the piety of our fore- 
 fathers, and that, hke 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 
 ewn 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 con- 
 secrated to his name; whereupon he immediately took the 
 town of New- Amsterdam under his pecuhar patronage, and 
 he has ever since been, and I devoutly hope will ever be, the 
 tutelar saint of this excellent city. 
 , I am moreover told that there is a Uttle legendary book, 
 j somewhere extant, written in Low Dutch, which says that the 
 image of this renowned saint, which whilome gTaced the bow- 
 sprit of the Goede Vrouw, was elevated in front of this chapel, 
 in the very centre of what, in modem days, is called the Bowl- 
 ing-Green. And the legend further treats of divers miracles 
 wrought by the mighty pipe which the saint held in his mouth; 
 a whiff of which was a sovereign cure for an indigestion — an 
 invaluable relic in tliis colony of brave trenchermen. As, how- 
 ever, in spite of the most dihgent search, I cannot lay my 
 hands upon this little book, I must confess that I entertain 
 considerable doubt on the subject. 
 
 Thus benignly fostered by the good St. Nicholas, the burgh- 
 ers of New- Amsterdam beheld their settlement increase in 
 ' magnitude and population, and soon become the metropolis of 
 divers settlements, and an extensive territory. Already had 
 ' the disastrous pride of colonies and dependencies, those banes 
 *■ of a sound-hearted empire, entered into their imaginations ; and 
 i Fort Aurania on the Hudson, Fort Nassau on the Delaware, 
 1 and Fort Goede Hoep on the Connecticut river, seemed to be 
 the darling offspring of the venerable council.* Thus prosper- 
 
 ♦ The province about this time, extended on the north to Fort Aurania, or Orange, 
 'jiow the city of Albany,) situated about 160 miles up the Hudson river. Indeed, 
 
90 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- TORE. 
 
 ously, to all appearance, did the province of New-Netherlands 
 advance in power; and the early history of its metropolis pre- 
 sents a fair page, unsullied by crime or calamity. 
 
 Hoi'des of painted savages still lurked about the tangled for- 
 ests and rich bottoms of the unsettled part of the island— the 
 hunter pitched liis rude bower of skins and bark beside the riils 
 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 rose above the neighbouring trees, and 
 floated in the transparent atmosphere. B}^ degrees, a mutual 
 good-will had grown up between these wandering beings and 
 the bm'ghers of New- Amsterdam. Our benevolent forefathers 
 endeavoured as much as possible to meliorate 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 neighbours, on 
 accoimt 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- Amster- 
 dam, fantastically painted and decorated with beads and flaunt- 
 ing feathers, saimtering about with an air of listless indiffer- 
 ence—sometimes in the market-place, 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-VkdndoAvs. It is worthy of mention here, that our fore- 
 fathers were very particular in holding up these wild men as 
 excellent domestic examples — and for reasons that may be 
 f]:athered 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 
 
 the province claimed quite to tlie river St. Lawrence; but tliis claim was not much 
 insisted on at the time, as the country beyond Fort Aurania was a perfect wilder- 
 ness. On the south, the province reached to Fort Nassau, on the South river, since 
 called the Delaware; and on the east, it extended to the Varsche (or Fresh) river 
 now the Coiuiecticut. On this last frontier was likewise erected a fort or trading 
 house, much about the spot where at present is situated the pleasant town of Hart 
 ford. This was called Fort Goede Hoep, (or Good Hope,) and was intended as wel 
 for the purposes of trade, as of defence. 
 
A mSTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 91 
 
 this awful example had any influence or not, history does not 
 mention ; but it is certain that our grandmothers were miracles 
 of fidelity and obedience. 
 
 True it is, that the good understanding between our ances- 
 tors and theii- savage neighbours was liable to occasional inter- 
 ruptions ; and I have heard my grandmother, who was a very 
 wise old woman, and well versed in the liistory of these parts, 
 joll a long story, of a winter's evening, about a battle between 
 the New-Amsterdamers 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, wliich for a long while went by the 
 name of tlie 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 obUterated 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. 
 
 The accimiulating wealth and consequence of New- Amster- 
 dam and its dependencies at length awakened the tender sohci- 
 ! tude of the mother country; who, finding it a thriving and 
 opulent colony, and that it promised to yield great profit, and 
 no trouble, all at once became wonderfully anxious about its 
 safety, and began to load it with tokens of regard, in the same 
 manner that your knowing people are sure to overwhelm rich 
 relations with, their affection and loving-kindness. 
 
 The usual marks of protection shown by mother countries to 
 wealthy colonies were forthmth manifested — the first care al- 
 ways being to send rulers to the new settlement, with orders 
 to squeeze as much revenue from it as it will jdeld. Accord- 
 ingly, in the year of our Lord 1629, Mynheer Wouter Van 
 TwiLLER was appointed governor of the province of Nieuw- 
 ' Nederlandts, imder the commission and control of their High 
 ' Mightinesses, the Lords States General of the United Nether- 
 ' lands, and the privileged West Lidia 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 firma- 
 * ment — when the robin, the thrush, and a thousand other wan- 
 Jj| ton songsters make the woods to resound with amorous dit- 
 fr,i ties, and the luxurious little boblincon revels among the clover 
 «f blossoms of the meadows — all which happy coincidence per- 
 :2j suaded the old dames of New-Amsterdam, who were skilled in 
 
92 
 
 A mSTORY OF NEW YORK. 
 
 the art of foretelling events, that this was to be a happy and 
 prosperous administration. 
 
 But as it would be derogatory to the consequence of the first 
 Dutch governor of the great province of Nieuw-Nederlandts, 
 to be thus scurvily introduced at the end of the chapter, I will 
 put an end to this second book of my history, that I may usher 
 him in with more dignity in the beginning of my next. 
 
A MIS TOUT OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 98 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE GOLDEN REIGN OF 
 WOUTER VAN TIVILLER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OP THE RENOWNED WALTER VAN TWILLER — HIS UNPARALLELED 
 VIRTUES — AND 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 feehng historian who writes the history of his native land. 
 If it fall to his lot to be the sad 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 aAvay for ever ! I know 
 not whether it be owing to an immoderate love for the shn- 
 pHcity 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 a sad dejection of the spirits. With 
 a 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 the 
 mighty shades. 
 
 Such are my feehngs when I revisit the family mansion of 
 fche Knickerbockers, and spend a lonely hour in the chamber 
 where hang the portraits of my forefathers, shrouded in dust, 
 like the forms they represent. With pious reverence do I gaze 
 on the countenances of those renowned burghers, who have 
 preceded me in the steady march of existence — whose sober 
 and temperate blood now meanders through my veins, flowing 
 slower and slower in its feeble conduits, until its current shall 
 soon be stopped for ever ! 
 
94 
 
 A HISTORY OF NKW-YORK. 
 
 These, say I 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 
 'iie— their eyes to pursue me in every movement! Carried 
 away by the delusions of fancy, I almost imagine myself sur- 
 rounded by the shades of the departed, and holding sweet con- 
 verse with the worthies of antiquity! Ah, hapless Diedrichl 
 born in a degenerate age, abandoned to the buffetings of for- 
 tune—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 patri- 
 archs—on those^ sweet days of simplicity and ease, which never 
 more will dawn on the lovely island of Manna-ha.ta ! 
 
 The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was de- 
 scended 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 be- 
 ing universally applauded, should be the object of ambition of 
 all sage magistrates and rulers. 
 
 The surname of Twiller is said to be a corruption of the 
 original Twijfler, which in English means doubter; a name 
 admirably descriptive of his deliberative habits. For, though 
 he was a man shut up within himself like an oyster, and of 
 such a profoundly reflective turn, that he scarcely ever spoke 
 except in monosyllables, yet did he never make up his mind 
 l»n any doubtful point. This was clearly accounted for by his 
 adherents, who affirmed that he always conceived every ob' 
 ject on so comprehensive a scale, that he had not room in his 
 head to turn it over and examine both sides of it, so that he 
 always remained in doubt, merely in consequence of the aston- 
 ishing magnitude of his ideas ! 
 
 There are two opposite ways by which some men get into jia 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 95 
 
 tice — one by talking a vast deal and thinking a little, and the 
 other by holding their tongues, and not tliinking at all. By 
 the first, many a vapouring, superficial pretender acquires the 
 reputation of a man of quick parts— by the other, many a va- 
 cant dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to 
 be complimented by a discerning world with all the attributes 
 of wisdom. This, by the way, is a mere casual remark, which 
 I would not for the universe have it thought I apply to Gov- 
 ernor Van Twiller. On the contrary, he was a very wise 
 Dutchman, for he never said a foohsh thing — and of such in- 
 vmcibJe gravity, that he was never known to laugh, or even 
 to smile, through the course of a long and prosperous life. 
 Certain, however, it is, there never was a matter proposed, 
 however simple, and on wliich your common narrow-minded 
 mortals would rashly determine at the first glance, but what 
 the renowned Wouter put on a mighty, mysterious, vacant 
 kind of look, shook his capacious head, and, having smoked 
 for five minutes with redoubled earnestness, sagely observed, 
 that "he had his doubts ahout the matter" — which in process 
 of time gained him the character of a man slow in behef , and 
 not easily imposed on. 
 
 The person of this illustrious old gentleman was as regularly 
 formed, and nobly 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 Jiave 
 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 back-bone, just between the shoulders, His 
 body was of an oblong form, 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 labour of 
 walking. His legs, though exceeding short, were sturdy in pro» 
 portion to the weight they had to sustain ; so that when erect 
 he had not a little the appearance of a robustious beer-barrel, 
 standing on skids. His face, that infallible index of the mind, 
 presented a vast expanse, perfectly unfurrowed or deformed by 
 any of those lines and angles which disfigure the human coun- 
 tenance Avith what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes 
 twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magni- 
 tude in the hazy firmament; and his full-fed cheeks, which 
 
96 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 seemed to have taken toll of every thing that went into his 
 mouth, were cui'iously mottled and streaked with dusky red, 
 like a Spitzenberg apple. 
 
 His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his 
 four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; he 
 smoked and doubted eight hours, and he slept the remaining 
 twelve of the four-and-twenty. Such was the renowned Wou- 
 ter Van Twiller— a true philosopher, for liis mind was either 
 elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and per- 
 plexities of this world. He had Hved in it for years, without 
 f eehng 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 ceihng, 
 without once troubling his head vnih. any of those numerous 
 theories, by which a philosopher would have perplexed liis 
 brain, in accounting for its rising above the suiTounding 
 atmosphere. 
 
 In his council he presided with gi'eat state and solemnity. 
 He sat in a huge chair of solid oak, hewn in the celebrated for- 
 est 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, wought with jasmin 
 and amber, which had been presented to a Stadtholder of Hol- 
 land, at the conclusion of a treaty with one of the petty Bar- 
 bary 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 Avail of the council chamber. Nay, it has 
 even been said, that vv^hen any dehberation of extraordinary 
 length and intricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Wouter 
 would absolutely shut his eyes for fidl 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 consider 
 ation. The facts respecting him were so scattered and vague, 
 tind divers of them so questionable in point of authenticity, 
 that I have had to give up the search after many, and decline 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK, 
 
 91 
 
 the admission of still more, which would have tended to heigh- 
 ten the colouring of his portrait. 
 
 I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the person 
 and habits of the renowned Van Twiller, from the considera- 
 tion 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 offen- 
 der being brc ught 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 solemnly installed in office, and at 
 the moment that he was making his breakfast, from a pro- 
 digious earthen dish, filled ^vith milk and Indian pudding, he 
 was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of one Wandle 
 Schoonhoven, a very important old burgher of New-Amster- 
 dam, who complained bitterly of one Barent Bleecker, inasmuch 
 as he fraudulently refused to come to a settlement of accounts, 
 seeing that there was a heavy balance in favour of the said 
 Wandle. Governor Van Twiller, as I have already observed, 
 i 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 gnmt, 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 jack-knife, despatched it after the defendant as 
 I a summons, accompanied by his tobacco-box as a warrant. 
 ; This summary process was as effectual in those SMnple days 
 as was the seal-ring of the great Haroun Alraschid among the 
 I 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 com- 
 ^ mentator, or a learned decipherer of Egyptian obehsks, to 
 J imderstand. The sage Wouter took them one after the other, 
 ,g and having poised them in his hands, and attentively counted 
 y over the number of leaves, fell straightway into a very great 
 jjjl doubt, and smoked for half an hgiir without saying a word; at 
 
 'I 
 
98 
 
 A niSTOllY OF NEW YORK. 
 
 length, laying his finj^er beside liis 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 solenmity 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 re- 
 ceipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt— and the con- 
 stable should pay the costs. 
 
 This decision being straightway made known, diffused gene- 
 ral joy throughout New-Amsterdam, for the people imme- 
 diately perceived, that they had a very wise and equitable 
 magistrate to ride over them. But its happiest effect was, 
 that not another law-suit took place throughout the whole of 
 his administration— and the office of constable feU 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 ot 
 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 hf e. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 CONTAINING SOME ACCOUNT OP THE GRAND COUNCIL OF NEW- 
 AMSTERDAM, AS ALSO DIVERS ESPECIAL GOOD PHILOSOPHICAL 
 REASONS WHY AN ALDERI^IAN SHOULD BE FAT— WITH OTHER 
 PARTICULARS TOUCHING THE STATE OF THE PROVINCE. 
 
 In treatmg 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 repub- 
 lic—a set of unhappy victims of popularity, who are in fact the 
 most dependent, henpecked beings in the conmaunity : doomed 
 to bear the secret goadings and corrections of their own party, 
 
A mSTOIlT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 99 
 
 and the sneers and revilings of the whole world beside ; — set up, 
 like geese at Christinas holydays, 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 aston- 
 ishingly 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, when- 
 ever, in the course of this authentic history, they encounter 
 the uncommon circumstance of a governor acting with inde- 
 pendence, 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 pre- 
 sided immediately over the police. This potent body consisted 
 of a schout or baihff, with powers between those of the present 
 mayor and sheriff — five burgermeesters, who were equivalent to 
 aldermen, and five schepens, who officiated as scrubs, sub- 
 devils, or bottle-holders to the burgermeesters, in the same 
 manner as do assistant aldermen to their principals at the 
 present day ; it being theii* duty to fill the pipes of the lordly 
 burgermeesters — hunt the markets for delicacies for corpora- 
 tion dinners, and to discharge such other little ofiices of kind- 
 ness 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 bur- 
 germeesters, 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 conse- 
 quence 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 the burgermeester Van Zandt's best jokes. 
 
 In return for these humble services, they were permitted to 
 say yes and no at the council board, and to have that enviable 
 privilege, the run of the public kitchen— being graciously per- 
 mitted to eat, and drink, and smoke, at aU snug junketings and 
 public gormandizings, for which the ancient magistrates were 
 equally famous with their modern successors. The post of 
 Bchepen, therefore, like that of assistant alderman, was eagerly 
 coveted by all your burghers of a certain description, who have 
 
100 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 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 alms-house 
 and the bridewell— that shall enable them to lord it over obse- 
 quious poverty, vagrant vice, outcast prostitution, and hunger- 
 driven dishonesty— that shall give to their beck a hound-like 
 pack of catch-poles and bum-bailiffs— tenfold greater rogues 
 than the culprits they hunt down !— My readers wiU excuse this 
 sudden warmth, which I confess is unbecoming of a grave 
 historian— but I have a moral antipathy to catch-poles, bum- 
 bailiffs, and little great men. 
 
 The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with those 
 of the present time no less in form, magnitude, and intellect, 
 than in prerogative and privilege. The burgomasters, like our 
 aldermen, were generally chosen by weight —and not only the 
 weight of the body, but likewise the weight of the head. It is 
 a maxim practically observed in all honest, plain-thinking, 
 regular cities, that an alderman should be fat —and the wisdom 
 of this can be proved to a certainty. That the body is in some 
 measure an image of the mind, or rather that the mind is 
 moulded to the body, hke melted lead to the clay in wliich it 
 is cast, has been insisted on by many philosophers, who have 
 made human nature their pecuhar study— for as a learned 
 gentleman of our own city observes, "there is a constant rela- 
 tion between the moral character of aU 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, rest- 
 less, meddling mind — either the mmd 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 fretful- 
 ness, tossing and worrying about from the uneasiness of its 
 situation. Whereas your round, sleek, fat, unwieldy peri- 
 phery 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 distur- 
 bance — and surely none are more Hkely to study the pubhc 
 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, hungiy men, who 
 are continually worrying society, and setting the whole com- 
 munity by the ears. 
 
A UISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 101 
 
 The -divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently 
 attended to by pliilosophers of the present age, allows to every 
 man three souls — one innnortal and rational, seated in the 
 brain, that it may overlook and regulate the body— a second 
 consisting of the surly and irascible passions, wliich, hke 
 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 dis- 
 turb the divine soul, by its ravenous bowlings. Now, accord- 
 ing to this excellent theory, svhat can be more clear, than that 
 your fat alderman is most likely to have the most regular and 
 well-conditioned mind. His head is hke 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 dis- 
 turbed 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 dmt of 
 good feeding, moreover, the mortal and mahgnant soul, which 
 is confined in the belly, and which, by its raging and roaring, 
 puts the irritable soul in the neighbourhood of the heart in an 
 intolerable i^assion, and thus renders men crusty and quarrel- 
 some when hungry, is completely pacified, silenced, and put to 
 rest — whereupon a host of honest good-fellow quahties 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 holyday 
 suits, and gambol up and down the diaphragm — disposing 
 their possessor to laughter, good-humour, and a thousand 
 friendly offices towards his fellow-mortals. 
 
 As a board of magistrates, formed on this model, think but 
 very httle, they are the less hkely to differ and wrangle about 
 favourite 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. Charle- 
 magne was conscious of this, and, therefore, (a pitiful measure, 
 for which I can never forgive him,) ordered in his cartularies, 
 that no judge should hold a court of justice, except in the 
 morning, on an empty stomach— a rule, which, I warrant, 
 bore hard upon all the poor culprits in his kingdom. The 
 more enhghtened and humane generation of the present day 
 have taken an opposite course, and have so managed, that the 
 
102 
 
 A BISTORT OF NEWTORR. 
 
 aldermen are the best-fed men in the community; feasting 
 lustily on the fat things of the land, and gorging so heartily 
 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 transact 
 lions are proverbial for unvarying monotony — and the pro- 
 found laws which they enact in their dozing moments, amid 
 the labours of digestion, are quietly suffered to remain as dead- 
 letters, and never enforced, when awake. In a word, your 
 fair, round-bellied burgomaster, hke 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, meddhng 
 candidate to the office, as has now and then been done, I would 
 as lief put a grayhoimd to watch the house, or a race-horse to 
 drag an ox-wagon. 
 
 The burgomasters then, as I have already mentioned, were 
 wisely chosen by weight, and the schepens, or assistant alder- 
 men, 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 ehgible 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 houi*s smoking and dozing 
 over pubhc 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 coad- 
 jutors, 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 wliich at this day may be witnessed in the city of 
 Washington — that immense metropolis, which makes so glori- 
 ous 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 whlow. Here would he 
 
A III Sr DRY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 smoke his pipe of a sultry afternoon, enjoying the soft south- 
 ern breeze, anfi listening with silent gratulation to the cluck- 
 ing of his hens, the cackling of his geese, i.nd 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 Doubt- 
 er. 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 frolic- 
 some calves sported about the verdant ridge where now the 
 Broadway loungers take their morning stroll — the cunning 
 fox or ravenous wolf skulked in the woods, where now are to 
 be seen the dens of Gomez and his righteous fraternity of 
 money-brokers — and flocks of vociferous geese cackled about 
 the fields, where now the great Tammany wigwam and the 
 patriotic tavern of Martling echo with the wranglings of the 
 mob. 
 
 In these good times did a true and enviable equaHty of rank 
 and property prevail, equally removed from the arrogance of 
 wealth, and the servility and heart-burnings of repining pov- 
 erty — and what in my mind is still more conducive to tran- 
 quillity and harmony among friends, a happy equahty 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 considere-l 
 as exceedingly good for common use. 
 
 Thus it happens that your true dull minds are generally pre- 
 ferred for public employ, and especially promoted to city 
 honours ; your keen intellects, hke 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 inequahty of intellect that pre- 
 vails, that embroils communities more than anything elf^e, 
 and I have remarked that your knowing people, who are so 
 much wiser than any body else, are eternally keeping society 
 in a ferment. Happily for New-Amst€rdam, nothing of ^^^-'^ 
 
104 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 kind was known within its walls— the very words of learning, 
 education, taste, and talents were unheard of— a bright geniua 
 was an aninial 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 hi.s 
 neighbour, nor any man to know more than an honest man 
 ought to know, who has nobody's business to mind but his 
 own; the parson and the council clerk were the only men that 
 could read in the community, and the sage Van Twiller 
 always signed his name with a cross. 
 
 Thrice happy and ever to be envied little burgh ! existmg in 
 ail the security of harmless insignificance— unnoticed and un- 
 envied hj the world, without ambition, without vain-glory, 
 without riches, without learning, and all their train of carking 
 cares — and as of yore, in the better days of man, the deities 
 were wont to visit him on earth and bless his rural habitations, 
 so we are told, in the sylvan days of New- Amsterdam, the 
 good St. Nicholas would often make his appearance m his 
 beloved city, of a holy day afternoon, riding jo] lily among the 
 tree-tops, or over the roofs of the houses, now and then draw- 
 ing forth magnificent presents from his breeches pockets, and 
 dropping them down the chimneys of his favourites. Wliereas 
 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 de- 
 scendants of the patriai'chs, confining liis presents merely to 
 the children, in token of the degeneracy of the parents. 
 
 Such are the comfortable and thriving effects of a fat gov- 
 ernment. The province of the New-Netherlands, destitute of 
 wealth, possessed a sweet tranquiUity that wealth could never 
 purchase. There were neither public commotions, nor private 
 quarrels; neither parties, nor sects, nor schisms; neither per- 
 secutions, nor trials, nor punishments ; nor were there counsel- 
 lors, attorneys, catch-poles, or hangmen. Every man attended 
 to what Httle business he was lucky enough to have, or neg- 
 lected it if he pleased, without asking the opinion of liis neigh- 
 bour. 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 eat 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 
 
A HISTOllY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 105 
 
 he were sleepy or not ; all which tended so reijiarkably to the 
 population of the settlement, that I am told every dutiful wife 
 througliout New-Amsterdam made a point of enriching her 
 husband tvith 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 favourite Dutch maxim, 
 that "more than enough constitutes a feast." Every thing, 
 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 m. 
 
 HOW THE TOWN OF NEW-AMSTERDAM AROSE OUT OP 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 valour, 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 en- 
 counters; they must be contiaually 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 Kttle 
 given to the marvellous, will dwell mth wondrous satisfac- 
 tion on descriptions of prodigies, unheard-of events, hau^- 
 breadth escapes, hardy adventures, and all those astonishing 
 narrations that just amble along the boundary line of possi- 
 bility. A third class, who, not to speak slightly of them, are 
 of a Hghter turn, and skim over the records of past times, as 
 they do over the edifying pages of a novel, merely for relaxar 
 lion and innocent amusement, do singularly delight in trear 
 sons, executions, Sabiae rapes, Tarquin outrages, conflagra- 
 
106 
 
 A UI6T0UY OF J^EW-YOliK. 
 
 tions, murders, and all the other catalogue of hideous crimes, 
 that, like cayenne in cookery, do give a pungency and flavoui 
 to the dull detail of history — while a foiu-th class, of more 
 philosophic habits, do dihgently pore over the musty chroni- 
 cles of time, to investigate the operations of the human kind, 
 and watch the gradual changes m men and manners, effected 
 oy the progress of knowledge, the vicissitudes of events, or the 
 influence of situation. 
 
 If the three first classes find but little where^vithal to solace 
 themselves in the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, I 
 entreat them to exert theii- patience for a whde, and bear with 
 the tedious picture of happiness, prosperity, and peace, which 
 my duty as a faithful historian obhges me to draAv; and I 
 promise them tliat as soon as I can possibly hght upon any 
 thing horrible, uncommon, or impossible, it shall go hard, but I 
 will make it afford them entertainment. Tliis being promised, 
 I turn with great complacency to the fom*th class of my 
 readers, who are men, or, if possible, w^omen, after my own 
 heart; grave, philosophical, and investigatiug ; fond of ana- 
 lyzing characters, of taking a start from fii-st causes, and so 
 hunting a nation dow^n, through all the mazes of innovation 
 and improvement. Such w^ill naturally be anxious to wit- 
 ness the first development of the newly-hatched colony, and 
 the prunitive maimers and customs prevalent among its iu- 
 habitants, during the halcyon reign of Van Twiller, or the 
 Doubter. 
 
 I will not gi'ieve their patience, however, by describing 
 minutely the increase and improvement of New- Amsterdam. 
 Their own imaginations will doubtless present to them the 
 good bm-ghers, like so many pains-taking and perseveriag 
 beavers, slowly and surely pursuing their labours — they will 
 behold the prosperous transformation from the rude log-hut 
 to the stately Dutch mansion, Avith brick front, glazed win- 
 dows, and tiled roof — from the tangled thicket to the luxuriant 
 cabbage garden; and from the skulking Indian to the pon- 
 derous burgomaster. In a word, they wlQ picture to them- 
 selves the steady, silent, and undeviating march to 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 councU, 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 imder their peculiar charge, and as they went to and 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 107 
 
 from pasture, established paths through the bushes, on each 
 side of which the good folks built their houses ; which is one 
 cause of the rambhng 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 oui 
 ancestors, Uke their descendants, were very much given to 
 outward show, and were noted for putting the best leg fore- 
 most. The house was always furnished with abundance of 
 large doors and small ^vindows 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 weather- 
 cock, to let the family into the important secret which way 
 the wind blew. These, hke the weathercocks on the tops of 
 our steeples, pointed so many different ways, that every man 
 could have a wind to his mind the most staunch and loyal 
 citizens, however, always went according to the weathercock 
 on the top of the governor's house, which was certainly the 
 most correct, as he had a trusty servant employed every 
 morning to climb up and set it to the right quarter. 
 
 In those good days of simphcity 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 unenhghtened grandmoth- 
 ers. 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 ofttimes worn out by the very 
 precautions taken for its preservation. The whole house was 
 constantly in a state of inundation, under 1»he discipline of 
 mops and brooms and scrubbing-bmshes ; and the good house- 
 wives of those days were a kind of amphibious animal, delight- 
 ing exceedingly to be dabbling in water — insomuch that a 
 historian of the day gravely tells us that many of his towns- 
 women grew to have webbed finger: ; like unto a duck ; and 
 some of them, he had little doubt, could the matter be exam- 
 ined 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 worsa, 
 a wilful misrepresentation. 
 
108 
 
 A IIISTOIIT OF IS'EW-YORK. 
 
 The grand parlour 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 
 tilings to rights— always taking the precaution of leaving their 
 shoes at the door, and entering devoutly in their stocldng-feet. 
 After scrubbing the floor, sprmkling it with fine white sand, 
 which was curiously stroked into angles, and curves, and 
 rhomboids, with a broom — after washing the windows, rub- 
 bing and polishing the furniture, and putting a new bimch of 
 evergreens in the fire-place -the window-shutters were again 
 closed to keep out the flies, and the room carefully locked up 
 imtil the revolution of time brought round the weekly clean- 
 ing day. 
 
 As to the family, they always entered in at the gate, and 
 most generaUy hved in the kitchen. To have seen a numer- 
 ous household assembled around the fire, one would have 
 imagined that he was transported back to those happy days of 
 primeval simphcity, which float before our imaginations like 
 golden visions. The fire-places 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, en- 
 joyed a conmiunity of privilege, and had each a right to a 
 corner. Here the old burgher would sit in perfect silence, 
 puffing his pipe, looking m the fii^e with haK-shut eyes, and 
 thinking of nothing for hours together ; the goede vrouw on 
 the opposite side would employ herself dihgently 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 
 8tories about New-England witches— grisly ghosts, horses with- 
 out heads — and hairbreadth escapes and bloody encounters 
 among the Indians. 
 
 In those happy days a weU-regulated family always rose 
 with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sun-down. 
 Dinner was invariably a private meal, and the fat old burgh- 
 ers showed incontestable symptoms of disapprobation and un- 
 easiness at being surprised by a visit from a neighbour on such 
 occasions. But though our worthy ancestors were thus singu- 
 
A IIISTOliY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 109 
 
 larly 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 com- 
 monly assembled at three o'clock, and went away about six, 
 unless it was in winter-time, when the fasliionable 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 shoes of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into mor- 
 sels, and swimming in gravy. The company being seated 
 around 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 baUs of sweetened dough, 
 fried m hog's fat, and called doughnuts, or olykoeks — a deli- 
 cious kind of cake, at present scarce known in this city, ex- 
 cepting in genuine Dutch famihes. 
 
 The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, orna- 
 mented with paintings of fat httle Dutch shepherds and shep- 
 herdesses 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 adroit- 
 ^ ness in replenishing this pot from a huge coppper tea-kettle, 
 which would have made the pigmy macaronies of these degene- 
 rate days sweat merely to look at it. To sweeten the beverage, 
 a lump of sugar w^as laid beside each cup — and the company 
 alternately nibbled and sipped with gi-eat decorum, until an 
 improvement was introduced by a shi^ewd 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 with- 
 out exception in Communipaw, Bergen, Flatbush, and ati oiu* 
 uncontaminated Dutch villages. 
 
 At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and dig- 
 nity of deportment prevailed. No flu-ting nor coquetting — no 
 gambling of old ladies, nor hoyden chattering and romping of 
 young ones — no self-satisfied stmttings of wealthy gentlemen, 
 with their brains in their pockets — nor amusing conceits, and 
 
110 
 
 A HISTORY OF JS'EW-YORK. 
 
 monkey divertisements, of smart young gentlemen with na 
 brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies seated them- 
 selves demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their 
 own woollen stockings ; nor ever opened their hps, excepting to 
 say, yah Mynheer, or yah yah Vrouw, to any question that was 
 asked them ; behaving, in all things, like decent, weU-educated 
 damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them tranquiUy smoked 
 his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the blue and 
 white tiles with which the fire-places were decorated ; wherein 
 sundry passages of scripture were piously portrayed — Tobit 
 and his dog figured to great advantage ; Haman swung con- 
 spicuously on his gibbet ; and Jonah appeared most manfully 
 bouncing out of the whale, like Harlequin through a barrel 
 of fire. 
 
 The parties broke up without noise and without confusion. 
 They were carried home by their own carriages, that is to say, 
 by the vehicles Nature had provided them, excepting such of 
 the Avealthy as could afiiord to keep a wagon. The gentlemen 
 gallantly attended their fan- ones to theii- respective abodes, 
 and took leave of them with a hearty smack at the door; 
 which, as it was an estabhshed piece of etiquette, done in per- 
 fect simplicity and honesty of heart, occasioned no scandal at 
 that time, nor should it at the present — if our great-grand- 
 fathers approved of the custom, it would argue a great want 
 of reverence in their descendants to say a word against it. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 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-hdCa presented a scene, the very counteipart 
 of tht)se 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 
 feniale sex, those arch innovators upon the tranquilhty, the 
 honesty, and gray-beard customs of society, seemed for a 
 
A niSTOJlT OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 Ill 
 
 while to conduct themselves with incredible sobriety and 
 comeliness. 
 
 Their hair, untortured by the abominations of art, was scru- 
 pulously pomatmned back from their foreheads with a candle, 
 ind covered with a little cap of quilted calico, which fitted 
 3xactly 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 
 v-eaching below the knee; but then they made up in the 
 number, which generally equalled that of the gentlemen'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 de- 
 vices, and ostentatiously worn on the outside. These, in fact, 
 were convenient receptacles, where all good housewives care- 
 fully stowed 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 w^as a boy, 
 that the lady of Wouter Van Twiller once had occasion to 
 empty her right pocket in search of a wooden ladle, 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 sub- 
 ject to exaggeration. 
 
 Besides these notable pockets, they likewise wore scissors 
 and pincushions suspended from their girdles by red ribands, 
 or, among the more opulent and showy classes, by brass, and 
 even silver chains, indubitable tokens of thrifty housewives 
 and industrious spinsters. I cannot say much in vindication 
 of the shortness of the petticoats; it doubtless was introduced 
 for the purpose of giving the stockings a chance to be seen, 
 which were generally of blue worsted, with magnificent red 
 clocks— or perhaps to display a well-turned ankle, and a neat, 
 though serviceable, foot, set off by a high-heeled leathern shoe, 
 with a large and splendid silver buckle. Tlius 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 
 
112 
 
 A JIISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 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 pro 
 portion to the magnitude of its object — and a voluminous 
 damsel, arrayed in a dozen of petticoats, was declared by a 
 Low Dutch sonnetteer of the province to be radiant as a sun- 
 flower, 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 ; v/hereas the heart of a modern gal- 
 lant 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 gi^own larger, or the persons of the ladies 
 smaller — tliis, however, is a question for physiologists to deter- 
 mine. 
 
 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 Eamtschatka damsel with a 
 store of bear-skins, or a Lapland belle with a plenty of rein- 
 deer. 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 carica- 
 tures of dame Nature, in water-colours and needle-work, were 
 always hung round with abundance of home-spun 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 o^neient times, corresponded, in most parti- 
 culars, 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 tan- 
 dems, for as yet those gaudy vehicles were not even dreamt of 
 — neither did they distinguish themselves by their brilhancy 
 at the table and their consequent rencontres ^vith 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 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 118 
 
 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 disparage- 
 ment to cut out her husband's linsey-woolsey gaUigaskins. 
 
 Not but what there were some two or three youngster^ 
 who manifested the first dawnings of what is called fire anci 
 spirit— who held all labour in contempt; skulked about docks 
 and market places ; loitered in the sunshine ; squandered what 
 little money they could procure at hustle-cap and chuck-far- 
 thing ; swore, boxed, fought cocks, and raced their neighbours* 
 horses— in short, who promised to be the wonder, the talk, and 
 abomination of the town, had not their stylish career been un- 
 fortunately cut short by an affair of honour 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 affec- 
 tions, and gallantly bedecked with abundance of large brass 
 buttons — half a score of breeches heightened the proportions of 
 his figure— his shoes were decorated by enormous copper 
 buckles— a low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat overshadowed his 
 burly visage, and liis hair dangled down his back in a pro- 
 digious 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 wliich Acis did sweetly tune in 
 praise of his Galatea, but one of tme 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 honourable 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 de- 
 hghtful period a sweet and holy calm reigned over the whole 
 province. The burp^omaster smoked his pipe in peace — ^the 
 substantial solace of his domestic cares, after her daily toils 
 were done, sat soberly at the door, with her arms crossed over 
 her apron of snowy white, without being insulted by ribald 
 
114 
 
 A J/lSTOnr OF MiJW-YORR. 
 
 street-walkers, or vagabond boys — those iinlucky urchins, who 
 do so infest our streets, displaying under the roses of youth 
 the thorns and briars of iniquity. Then it was that the lover 
 with ten breeches, and the damsel with petticoats of half a 
 score, indulged in all the innocent endearments of virtuous 
 love, without fear and without reproach; for what had that 
 virtue to fear wliich was defended by a shield of good linsey- 
 woolsey s, equal at least to the seven bull-hides of the invinci- 
 ble Ajax? 
 
 Ah ! blissful, and never-to-be-forgotten age ! when every 
 tiling 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 congi-atulate himseK when 
 he beholds the child of his bosom or the city of his birth in- 
 creasing in magnitude and importance — let the history of his 
 own life teach him the dangers of the one, and this excellent 
 little history of Maima-hata convince him of the calamities of 
 the other. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 m WHICH THE READER IS BEGUILED INTO A DELECTABLE WALS 
 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 slowy wandered through the 
 long alley of poplars, which like so many birch-brooms stand- 
 
A niSTOUY Ob AEW-YORK. 
 
 115 
 
 ing 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 occu- 
 X)ation, proudly reared its brick walls and wooden pillars, there 
 w^liilome stood the low but substantial, red-tiled mansion of the 
 renowned Wouter Van T wilier. Around it the mighty bul- 
 warks of Fort Amsterdam frowned defiance to every absent 
 foe; but, like many a whiskered warrior and gallant militia 
 captain, confined their martial deeds to frowns alone. The mud 
 breast- works had long been levelled with the earth, and their 
 site converted into the green lawns and leafy alleys of the Bat- 
 tery ; 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 wdth 
 islands, sprinkled with fishing-boats, and bounded with shores 
 of picturesque beauty. But the dark forests which once 
 clothed these 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 smihng gar- 
 den, appertaining to the sovereigns of the province, was now 
 covered with fortifications, inclosing a tremendous blockhouse 
 — so that this once peaceful island resembled a fierce httle war- 
 rior in a big cocked hat, breathing gunpowder and defiance to 
 the world! 
 
 For some time did I indulge in this pensive train of thought ; 
 contrasting, in sober sadness, the present day with the hal- 
 low3d years behind the mountains ; lamenting the melancholy 
 progress of improvement, and praising the zeal with which our 
 worthy burghers endeavour to preserve the wrecks of vener- 
 able customs, prejudices, and errors, from the overwhehning 
 tide of modern innovation — when by degrees my ideas took a 
 diflierent turn, and I insensibly awakened to an enjoyment of 
 the beauties around me. 
 
 It was one of those rich autumnal days, which Heaven par- 
 ticularly bestows upon the beauteous island of Manna-hata 
 and its vicinity — not a floating cloud obscured the azure firma- 
 ment— the sun. rolling in glorious splendour through his ethe- 
 real course, seemed to expand his honest Dutch countenance 
 into an unusual expression of benevolence, as he smiled his 
 
116 
 
 A niSTORT OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 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, Uke a choice 
 handkerchief, for days of gala, hung motionless on the flag 
 staff, which forms the handle to a gigantic churn ; and even 
 the tremulous leaves of the poplar and the aspen ceased to 
 vibrate to the breath of heaven. Every thing seemed to ac- 
 quiesce 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 bat- 
 tles of their country on the next fourth of July — the soH- 
 tary 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 an- 
 chor between Gibbet Island and Communipaw, slumbered 
 on their rakes, and suffered the innocent oysters to he for a 
 while unmolested in the soft mud of their native bank !— 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 extraordi- 
 nary inconvenience of the couch set all rei^ose 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, Harsinuis, and Hobo- 
 ken, wliich, 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, spread- 
 ing its wide shadows from the high settlements at Weehawk 
 quite to the lazaretto and quarantine, erected by the sagacity 
 of our police for the embarrassment of commerce — now it 
 climbs tlje 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 wave- 
 less mirror is lashed into furious Avaves, 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 
 
A BISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 117 
 
 the land— the poplar writhes and twists and whistles in the 
 blast — torrents of drenching rain and sounding hail deluge the 
 Batteiy- walks— the gates are thronged by apprentices, servant- 
 maids, and little Frenchmen, with pocket-handkerchiefs over 
 their hats, scampering from the storm— the late beauteous 
 prospect presents one scene of anarchy and wild uproar, as 
 though old Chaos had resumed his reign, and was hurling back 
 into one vast turmoil the conflicting elements of nature. 
 
 Whether I fled from the fury of the storm, or remained 
 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 poS' 
 sible he may be a little perplexed also to know the reason why 
 I introduced this tremendous tempest to disturb the serenity of 
 my Avork. 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 httle bustle and life to this tran- 
 quil part of my work, and to keep my drowsy readers from 
 tailing asleep— and partly to serve as an overture to the tem- 
 pestuous times that are about to assail the pacific p covince of 
 Nieuw-Nederlandts — and that overhang the slumbrous admin- 
 istration of the renowned Wouter Van T wilier. It is thus the 
 experienced playwright puts all the fiddles, the French horns, 
 the kettledrums, and trumpets of his orchestra in requisition, 
 to usher in one of those horrible and brimstone uproars caUed 
 melodramas— 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 "hon- 
 esty is the best policy," is a sheer and ruinous mistake. It 
 might have answered Avell 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 some- 
 thing like an honest man among thieves, who, unless he have 
 something more than his honesty to depend upon, stands but 
 a poor chance of profiting by his company. Such at least was 
 the case with the guileless government of the New-Nether- 
 lands ; which, like a worthy unsuspicious old burgher, quietly 
 settloQ itself down into the city of New- Amsterdam, as into a 
 
118 
 
 A lIISrOllY OF Nl'JW-YOllK. 
 
 6nug elbow-chair — and fell into a comfortable nap— Avhile, in 
 the meantime, its cunning neighbours stepped in and picked 
 its pockets. Thus may we ascribe the commencement of all 
 the woes of this great province, and its magnificent metropohs, 
 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, hke 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 the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 FAITHFULLY DESCRIBING THE INGENIOUS PEOPLE OP 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 INTER- 
 COURSE, 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 them- 
 selves in matters of religion, exercising what they considered a 
 natural and unextinguishable right — the liberty of conscience. 
 
 As, ho^v^ever, they possessed that ingenious habit of mind 
 
A JIISTOUY OF NKW-YORK. 
 
 119 
 
 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 hberty of conscience likewise im- 
 plied 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 ware adopted to reclaim them, that in 
 those days were considered so efficacious in bringing back 
 jstray sheep to the fold ; that is to say, they were coaxed, they 
 were admonished, they were menaced, they were buffeted— 
 line upon line, precept upon precept, lash upon lash, here a 
 little and there a great deal, were exhausted without mercy, 
 and without success ; until at length 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 hterally "heaped Uve embers on their 
 heads. " 
 
 Nothing, however, could subdue that invincible spirit of 
 independence which has ever distinguished this singular race 
 of people, so that rather than submit to such horrible tyranny, 
 they one and all embarked for the wilderness of America, 
 where they might enjoy, unmolested, the inestimable luxury 
 of tallving. No sooner did they land on this loquacious soil, 
 than, as if they had caught the disease from the climate, they 
 all lifted up their voices at once, and for the space of one whole 
 year did keep up such a joyful clamour, that we are told they 
 frightened every bird and beast out of the neighbourhood, and 
 so co]npletely diunbfounded certain fish, which abound on 
 their coast, that they have been called dumb-fish ever since. 
 
 From this simple circumstance, unimportant as it may seem, 
 did first originate that renowned privilege so loudly boasted of 
 throughout this country — which is so eloquently exercised in 
 newspapers, pamplilets, ward meetings, pot-house committees, 
 aucl congressional deliberations— which established the right of 
 calking without ideas and without infornmtion— of misrepre-= 
 sen ting public affairs— of decrying public measures— of aspers- 
 ing great characters, and destoying little ones ; in short, that 
 grand palladium of our country, the liberty of speech. 
 
 TJie simple aborigines of the land for a wliile contemplated 
 these strange folk in utter astonishment, but discovering that 
 they wielded harmless though noisy weapons, and were a 
 lively, ingenious, good-humoured race of men, they became 
 Very friendly and sociable, and gave them the name of Fa wo- 
 
120 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 Ides, which in the Mais-Tchusaeg (or Massachusett) language 
 signifies silent men— a, waggish appellation, since shortened 
 iKto the familiar epithet of Yankees, which they retain unto 
 the i^resent day. 
 
 True it is, and my fidelity as a historian will not allow me to 
 pass it over in silence, that the zeal of these good people, to 
 maintain their rights and privileges unimpaired, did for a 
 while betray them into errors, which it is easier to pardon than 
 defend. Having served a regular apprenticeship in the school 
 of persecution, it behoved them to show that thej^ had become 
 proficients in the art. They accordingly employed their leism*e 
 hours in banishing, scourging, or hanging divers heretical Pa- 
 pists, Quakers, and Anabaptists, for daring to abuse the liberty 
 of conscience : which they now clearly proved to imply noth- 
 ing more than that every man should think as he pleased in 
 matters of religion— provided he thought right ; for otherwise 
 it would be givmg a latitude to damnable heresies. Now as 
 they (the majority) were perfectly con^dnced 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 hberty of 
 conscience, and a corrupt and infectious member of the body 
 politic, and deserved to be lopped off and cast into the fire. 
 
 Now I'll warrant there are hosts of my readers ready at once 
 to lilt up their hands and eyes, with that virtuous indignation 
 with which we always contemplate the faults and errors of our 
 neighbours, and to exclaim at these well-meaning, but mistaken 
 people, for inflicting on others the injuries they had suffered 
 themselves— for indulging the preposterous idea of convincing 
 the mind by tormenting the body, and estabhshing the doc- 
 trine of charity and forbearance by intolerant persecution. 
 But, in sunple 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 gov- 
 ernment which cruelly denied us the privilege of governing our- 
 selves, and using in full latitude that invaluable member, tlie 
 tongue? and are we not at this very moment stri\'ing our best 
 to tyrannize over the opinions, tie up the tongues, or ruin th 
 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 mero 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 121 
 
 whipping-posts and pillories, where unfortunate incli\^duals are 
 pelted with rotten eggs— and our council of appointment, but 
 a gi-and auto da /e, where culprits are annually sacrificed for 
 their pohtical heresies? 
 
 Where, then, is the difference in principle between our mea- 
 sui'es and those you are so ready to condemn among the people 
 I am treating of? There is none; the difference is merely cir- 
 cumstantial. Thus we denounce, instead of banishing — we 
 libel, instead of scourging — we turn out of office, instead of 
 hanging— and where they burnt diiio^Q\\(\.QY mpropria persona^ 
 we either tar and feather or burn him in effgy — this political 
 pei*secution being, somehow or other, the grand palladium of 
 our hberties, 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 unbehevers, w^e 
 do not find that the population of this new colony was in any 
 wise hindered thereby ; on tlie conti'ary, they multiplied to a 
 degree which would be incredible to any man unacquainted 
 with the marvellous fecundity of tliis growing country. 
 
 This amazing increase may, indeed, bo 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, \vith which they usually termi- 
 nated their festivities ; and which was kept up with rehgious 
 strictness by the more bigoted and vulgar part of the commu- 
 nity. This ceremony was lil^cwise, in those primitive times, 
 considered as an indispensable preliminary to matrimony; 
 their coiu"tships 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 q 
 shrewdness at making a bargain, which has ever since distin* 
 guished 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 tribe ; for 
 it is a certain fact, well authenticated by court records and 
 parish registers, that wherever the practice of bundling pre- 
 vailed, there was an amazing number of sturdy brats annually 
 born unto the State, without the license of the law, or the bene- 
 fit of clergy. Neither did the iricgularity of their birth oper 
 
A HIS TOBY OF NEW-TOEK. 
 
 ate m the least to their disparagement. On the contrary, they 
 grev/ up a long-sided, raw-boned, hardy race of whoreson 
 whalers, wood-cutters, fishermen, and peddlei-s, and strapping 
 cornf od wenches ; who by their united efforts tended marvel- 
 lously towards populating those notable tracts of country 
 called Nantucket, Piscataway, and Cape Cod. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW THESE SINGULAR BARBA.RIANS TURNED OUT TO BE NOTO- 
 RIOUS SQUATTERS — HOW THEY BUILT AIR CASTLES, AND AT- 
 TEMPTED TO INITIATE THE NEDERLANDERS IN THE MYSTERY 
 OF BUNDLING. 
 
 In the last chapter I have given a faithful and unpreju- 
 diced account of the origm of that singular race of people, in- 
 habiting the country eastward of the Nieuw-Nederlandts ; but 
 I have yet to mention certain peculiar habits which rendered 
 them exceedingly obnoxious to our ever-honoured Dutch an- 
 cestors. * 
 
 The most prominent of these was a certain rambling pro- 
 pensity, with which, like the sons of Ishmaol, they seem to 
 have been gifted by Heaven, and which continually goar?s 
 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 mhabit, and in a man- 
 ner may be considered the w andering Arab of America. 
 
 His first thought, on coming to the years of manhood, is to 
 settle himself in the world — Avhicli means nothing more nor 
 less than to begin his rambles. To this end he takes ur.to 
 himself for a wife some buxom country heiress, passing rifli 
 in red ribands, glass beads, and mock tortoise-shell comb3, 
 with a white gown and morocco shoes for Simday, 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 jour 
 ney of life, he literally nets out on the peregrination. His 
 whole family, housc;hold furniture, and farming utensils, are 
 
A ElJSTORY OF NEW-l OItK. 
 
 128 
 
 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, wliistles " Yankee Doodle, " and trudges off to the 
 woods, as confident of the protection of Providence, and rely- 
 ing as cheerfully upon his own resources, as did ever a patri< 
 £iich 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 smihng upon his labours, is soon surrounded 
 by a snug farm and some half a score of flaxen-headed ur^ 
 chins, who, by their size, seem to have sprung all at once out 
 of the earth, like a crop of toad-stoois. 
 
 But it is not the nature of this most indefatigable of specu- 
 lators to rest contented with any state of sublunary enjoy- 
 ment — improvement is his darhng 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 wilder- 
 ness, large enough for a parish church, and furnished with 
 windows of all dimensions, but so rickety and flimsy withal, 
 that every blast gives it a fit of the ague. 
 
 By the time the outside of this mighty air castle is completed, 
 either the funds or the zeal of our adventurer are exhausted, so 
 that he barely manages to half finish one room within, where 
 the whole family burrow together — while the rest of the house 
 is devoted to the curing of pumpkins, or storing of carrots and 
 potatoes, and is decorated with fanciful festoons of dried apples 
 and peaches. The outside remaining unpainted, grows venera- 
 bly black with time ; the family wardrobe is laid under contri- 
 bution for old hats, petticoats, and breeches, to stuff into the 
 broken windows, while the four winds of heaven keep up a 
 whistling and howling about this aerial palace, and play as) 
 many unruly gambols, as they did of yore in the cave of old 
 /3ilolus. 
 
 The humble log hut, which whilome nestled this improving 
 family snugly witliin 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, Avliich he had 
 long filled with great respectability, to crawl into the empty 
 shell of a lobster— where he would no doubt have resided 
 V'ith great style and splendour, the envy and hate of all the 
 
124 
 
 A niSTOUY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 pains-taking snails in his neighbourhood, had he not acciden- 
 tally perished with cold, in one corner of his stux)endous man 
 sion. 
 
 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 na 
 tion, 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 improve- 
 ment — sells his farm, air castle, petticoat windows and all, re- 
 loads 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 sliin- 
 gle palace, and again to sell off and wander. 
 
 Such were the people of Connecticut, who bordered upon the 
 eastern frontier of Nieuw Nederiandts ; and my readers may 
 easily imagine what obnoxious neighbours this light-hearted 
 but restless tribe must have been to our tranquil progenitors. 
 If they cannot, I would ask them, if they have ever known one 
 of our regular, well-organized Dutch famihes, whom it hath 
 pleased Heaven to afiiict with the neighbourhood of a French 
 boarding-house? The honest old burgher cannot take his after- 
 noon'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 clario- 
 net, the haut-boy, or some other soft toned instrument— nor 
 can he leave the street-door open, but his house is defiled by 
 the unsavoury visits of a troop of pug dogs, who even some- 
 times carry their loathsome ravages into the sanctum sanc- 
 torum, the parlour ! 
 
 If my readers have ever witnessed the sufferings of such 
 a farmly, so situated, they may form some idea how oiir 
 worthy ancestors were distressed b}" their mercurial neigh- 
 bours of Connecticut. 
 
 Gangs of these marauders, we are told, penetrated into the 
 New I'^etherland settlements, and threw whole villages into 
 consternation by their unparalleled volubility, and their in- 
 tolerable inquisitiveness— two evil habits hitherto unknown 
 in those parts, or only known to be abhorred ; for our ances- 
 tors were noted as being men of truly Spartan taciturnity, 
 
A iniSTORY OF NEV/-YORK. 
 
 125 
 
 and wlio neither knew nor cared aught ahout any hody's 
 concerns but then* own. Many enormities Avere 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 docs the modern right of search on the high seas. 
 
 Great jealousy did they likewise stir up, by then- intermed- 
 dling and successes among the divine sex ; for being a race ol 
 brisk, likely, pleasant-tongued varlets, they soon seduced the 
 light afie(;tions 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 m- 
 clined 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, w^as an unwarrantable liberty which they 
 occasionally took of entering in hordes into the territories of 
 the New-Netherlands, and settling themselves dow^n, without 
 leave or license, to improve the land, in the manner I have be- 
 fore noticed. This unceremonious mode of taking possession of 
 ne^v land was technically tei*med squatting, and hence is 
 derived the appellation of squatters ; a name odious in the ears 
 of all great landholders, and which is given to those enterprising 
 worthies who seize upon land first, and take their chance to 
 make good their title to it afterwards. 
 
 All these grievances, and many others which were constantly 
 accumulating, tended to form that dark and portentous cloud, 
 wliich, 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 ^y^Jil 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 ; hke that mighty man of 
 old, who by dint of carrying about a calf from the time it was 
 bora, continued to carry it without difficulty when it had grown 
 to be an ox. 
 
126 
 
 A HISTORY OF JSEW-TOliK. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 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 — collecting and collating, with painful 
 minuteness, the chronicles of past times, whose events almost 
 defy the powers of research— exploring a little kind of Hercula- 
 neum of history, wliich had lain nearly for ages buried under 
 the rubbish of years, and almost totally forgotten — raking up 
 the hmbs and fragments of disjointed facts, and endeavouring 
 to put them scrupulously together, so as to restore them to 
 their original form and connexion— now lugging forth the 
 character of an almost forgotten hero, like a mutilated statue 
 — now deciphering a haK-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 
 honour and probity of his author, lest, Mke a cunning anti- 
 quarian, he either impose upon him some spurious fabrication 
 of his own, for a precious relic from antiquity— or else dress up 
 the dismembered fragment with such false trappings, that it is 
 scarcely possible to distinguish the truth from the fiction with 
 which it is enveloped ! This is a grievance which I have more 
 than once had to lament, in the coui^e of my wearisome re- 
 searches 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 wiU take 
 the trouble to compare their romantic effusions, tricked out in 
 the meretricious gauds of fable, v.^th this authentic history. 
 
 I have had more vexations of this kind to encounter, in those 
 parts of my history ivhich treat of the transactions on the 
 eastern border, than in any other, in consequence of the troops 
 of historians who have infested those quarters, and have shown 
 the honest people of Nieuw-Nederlandts no mercy m their 
 works. Among the rest, ]\Ir. Benjamin Trumbull arrogantly 
 declares, that " the Dutch were always mere intmdere." Now 
 to this I shall make no other reply than to proceed in the 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 127 
 
 steady narration of my history, which will contain not only 
 proofs that tlie Dutch had clear title and possession in the fair 
 valleys of the Connecticut, and that they Avere wrongfully dis- 
 possessed thereof— but likewise, that they have been scandal- 
 ously 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 impartiahty, and a regard to 
 immortal fame— for I would not wittingly dishonour my work 
 by a single falsehood, misrepresentation, or prejudice, though 
 it should gain our forefathers the whole country of New-Eng- 
 land. 
 
 It was at an early period of the province, and previous to the 
 arrival of the renowned Wouter, that the cabinet of Nieuw- 
 Nederlandts purchased the lands about the Connecticut, and 
 established, for then- superintendence and protection, a fortified 
 post on the banks of the river, which was called Fort Goed 
 Hoop, and was situated hard by the present fair city of Hart- 
 ford. The command of this important post, together with the 
 rank, title, and appointment of commissary, were given ia 
 charge to the gallant Jacobus Van Curlet, or, as some historians 
 will have it, Van Curlis— a most doughty soldier, of that 
 stomachful class of which we have such nmnbers on parade 
 days— who are famous for eating all they kill. He was of a 
 very soldierlike appearance, and would have been an exceeding 
 tall man had liis legs been in proportion to his body ; but the 
 latter being long, and the former uncommonly short, it gave 
 him the uncouth appearance of a tall man's body mounted upon 
 a little man's legs. He made up for this turnspit construction 
 of body by throwing his legs to such an extent when he 
 marched, that you would have sv/orn he had on the identical 
 seven-league boots of the far-famed Jack the giant-killer ; and so 
 astonishingly high did he tread, on any great military occasion, 
 that his soldiers were ofttimes alarmed, lest he should trample 
 himself underfoot. 
 
 But notwithstanding the erection of this fort, and the ap- 
 pointment of this ugly little man of war as a conmaander, the 
 intrepid Yankees continued those daring interlopings, which I 
 have hinted at in my last chapter ; and taking advantage of 
 the character which the cabinet of Wouter Van Twiller soon 
 acquired, for profound and phlegmatic tranquillity— did auda- 
 ciously invade the territories of the NieuAv-Nederlandts, and 
 squat themselves down within the very jurisdiction of Fort 
 Good IIoop. 
 
128 
 
 A HIST0R7 OF NEW-TORE. 
 
 On beholding this outrage, the long-bodied Van Curlet pro* 
 ceeded as became a prompt and valiant officer. He imme- 
 diately protested against these unwarrantable encroachments, 
 in Low Dutch, by way of inspiring more terror, and forthwith 
 despatched a copy of the protest to the governor at New- Amster- 
 dam, together with a long and bitter account of the aggressions 
 of the enemy. This done, he ordered 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 liis 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 honours, and council 
 dinners, had reached that period of life and faculty which, 
 according to the great Gulhver, entitles a man to admission 
 into the ancient order of Struldbruggs. He employed his time 
 in smoking his Turkish pipe, amid an assembly 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 
 knoAvn in my time. Upon reading the protest of the ga.llant 
 Jacobus Van Curlet, therefore, his excellency fell straightway 
 into one of the deepest doubts that ever he was known to en- 
 counter ; his capacious head gradually drooped on his chest, he 
 closed his eyes, and incHned liis ear to one side, as if listening 
 with great attention to the discussion that was going on m his 
 belly ; 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 Rex)resentatives do to the Senate. An in- 
 articulate sound, very much resembhng a snore, occasionally 
 escaped him — but the nature of tliis internal cogitation was 
 never known, as he never opened his hps on the subject to 
 man, woman, or cliild. 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 pro- 
 test, and his mighty Fort G oed Hoop, were soon as completely 
 beclouded and forgotten as is a question of emergency swai 
 lowed up in the speeches and resolution of a modern session o f 
 Congress. 
 
 There are certain emergencies when your profound legisla- 
 tors and sago dehberative coimcils are mightily in the way of a 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 129 
 
 Tiation; 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 Avhile the renowned V/ outer Van 
 Twiller was daiJy batthng with liis doubts, and his resolution 
 growing weaker and weaker in the contest, the enemy pushed 
 farther and farther into his territories, and assurned a most 
 formidable appearance in the neighbourhood ot Yort Goed 
 Hoop. Here they founded the mighty town of Piqaag, or, as 
 it has since been called, Weathersfield, a place which, if we 
 may credit the assertion of that worthy historian, John Josse- 
 lyn, Gent., ''hath been infamous by reason of the witches 
 therein." And so daring did these men of Piquag become, that 
 they extended those plantations of onions, for which their 
 town is illustrious, under the very noses of the garrison of 
 Foil; Goed Hoop— insomuch that the honest Dutchmen could 
 not look toward that quarter ^vitliout tears in their eyes. 
 
 This crying injustice was regarded with proper indignation 
 by the gallant Jacobus Van Ourlet. He absolutely trembled 
 wit]i the amazing violence of liis choler, and tlie exacerbations 
 of liis valour ; which seemed to be the more turbulent in their 
 workings, from the length of the body in which they were 
 agitated. He forthwith proceeded to strengthen his redoubts, 
 heighten his breastworks, deepen his fosse, and fortify his 
 position with a double row of abattis : after which valiant pre- 
 cautions, he despatched a fresh courier with tremendous 
 accounts of his perilous situation. 
 
 The courier chosen to bear these alarming despatches was a 
 fat, oily little man, as being least 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, remark- 
 able for his length of hmb, largeness of bone, and hardness of 
 trot ; and so tall, that the httle messenger was obliged to climb 
 on his back by means of his tail and crupper. Such extraordi- 
 nary speed did he make, that he arrived at Fort Amsterdam 
 in little less than a month, though the distance was full two 
 'hundred pipes, or about a hundred and twenty miles. 
 
 Tlie extraordinary appearance of this portentous stranger 
 would have thrown the whole town of New- Amsterdam into a 
 quandary, had the good people troubled themselves about any 
 thing more than their domestic affairs. 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 metropohs, demohshing whole batches of dii-t pies, 
 
130 
 
 A ITISTORT OF NEW- YORE. 
 
 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 ariiving at the governor's house, he climbed 
 down from his steed in great trepidation; roused the gray- 
 headed door-keeper, old Skaats, w^ho, like his lineal descendant 
 and faithful representative, the venerable crier of our court, 
 was nodding at his post— rattled at the door of the coimcil 
 chamber, and startled the members as they were dozing over a 
 plan for establishmg a pubhc market. 
 
 At that very moment a gentle grunt, or rather a deep-drawn 
 snore, was heard from the chair of the governor ; a wlhil of 
 smoke was at the same instant observed to escape from his 
 lips, and a hght cloud to ascend from the bowl of his pipe. 
 The council of course supposed lum engaged in deep sleep for 
 the good of the community, and, according to custom in all 
 such cases estabhshed, every man bawled out silence, in order 
 to maintain tranquillity; when, of a sudden, the door flew 
 open, and the little courier straddled mto the apartment, cased 
 to the middle in a pair of Hessian boots, which he had got mto 
 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 galhgaskins, 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, dehvered his message. But fortunately his 
 ill tidings came too late to ruffle the tranquilUty of this most 
 tranquil of rulers. His venerable excellency had just breathed 
 and smoked his last — ^his lungs and his pipe ha^dng been ex- 
 hausted 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 Wil- 
 helmus Kieft governed in his stead. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW YORK. 
 
 131 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 CONTAINING THE CHRONICLES OF THE REIGN OF 
 WILLIAM THE TESTY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SHOWING THE NATURE OF HISTORY IN GENERAL; CONTAINING 
 FURTHERMORE THE UNIVERSAL ACQUIREMENTS OF WILLIAM 
 THE TESTY, AND HOW A Mi^ MAY LEARN SO MUCH AS TO 
 RENDER HIMSELF GOOD FOR NOTHING. 
 
 When the lofty Thucydides is about to enter upon his de- 
 scription of the plague that desolated Athens, one of his mod- 
 em commentators assures the reader, that the history is now 
 going to be exceeding solemn, serious, and i)athetic ; and liints, 
 ^Tith that air of chuckling gratulation with which a good dame 
 draws forth a choice morsel from a cupboard to regale a 
 favourite, that this plague will give his history a most agree- 
 able variety. 
 
 In hke manner did my heart leap within me, when I came 
 to the dolorous dilemma of Fort Good Hope, wliich I at once 
 perceived to be the forerunner of a series of great events and 
 entertaining disasters. Such are the true subjects for the his- 
 toric pen. For what is history, in fact, but a kind of Newgate 
 calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries that man has 
 inHicted on his fellow-man? It is a huge libel on human na- 
 jturo, to which we industriously add page after page, volume 
 after volume, as if we were building up a monument to the 
 lionour, rather than the infamy of our species. If wo tiu*n 
 over the pages of these chronicles that man has written of him- 
 self, 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 wongs and miseries they have 
 inflicted on mankind — warriors, who have hired themselves to 
 
A HIS TOBY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 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 consti- 
 tute a glorious era? — The fall of empires — the desolation of 
 happj^ 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 that historians may be said to thrive on the mise- 
 ries of mankind, like birds of prey that 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 beheve that plots, conspiracies, wars, victo- 
 ries, and massacres are ordained by Providence only as food 
 for the historian. 
 
 It is a source of great delight to the philosopher in studying 
 the wonderful economy of nature, to trace the mutual depen- 
 dencies 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, w^hich are so 
 often execrated as useless vermin, are created for the suste- 
 nance 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 pro\ided as themes for 
 the poet and the 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. Like some sleek ox w^hich, having fed and fat- 
 tened in a rich clover-field, Hes sunk in luxurious repose, and 
 will bear repeated taunts and blows before it heaves its un- 
 wieldy limbs and clumsily arouses from its slumbers ; so the 
 province of the Nieuw-Nederlandts, having long thrived and 
 grown corpulent, under the prosperous reign of the Doubter, 
 was reluctantly awakened to a melancholy conviction, that, 
 by patient sufferance, its grievances had become so numerous 
 and aggravating that it w^as preferable to repel tlian endure 
 them. The reader will now witness the manner in which a 
 peaceful community advances towards a state of war ; which it 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-TORE. 
 
 133 
 
 is too apt to approach, as a horse does a drum, with much 
 prancing and parade, but with httle progress— and too often 
 with the wrong end foremost. 
 
 WiLiiELMUS KiSFT, who, in 1634, ascended the gubernatorial 
 chair, (to borrow a favourite, though chunsy appellation of 
 modern phraseologists,) was in form feature, and character, 
 the very reverse of Wouter Van Twiller, his renowned pre- 
 decessor. He was of very respectable descent, his father 
 being Inspector of Windmills in the ancient town of Saardam ; 
 and our hero, we are told, made very curious investigations 
 into the nature and operations of those machines when a boy, 
 which is one reason why he afterwards came to be so ingeni- 
 ous a governor. His name, according to the most ingenious 
 etymologists, was a corruption of Kyver, that i? to say, wrang- 
 ler or scolder, and expressed the hereditary disposition of his 
 fami\ 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 Wilhelmus Kieft inherit this family endowment, that he 
 had scarcely been a year in the discharge of his government, 
 before he was universally known by the appellation of Wil- 
 liam THE Testy. 
 
 He was a brisk, waspish, httle old gentleman, who had dried 
 and ^vithered away, partly through the natural process of 
 years, and partly from being parched and burnt up by his 
 fiery soul; which blazed like a vehement rushlight in his 
 bosom, constantly inciting him to most valorous broils, aiter- 
 cations, and misadventures. I have heard it observed by a 
 profound and philosophical judge of human nature, that if a 
 woman waxes fat as she grows old, the tenure of her life is 
 very precarious, but if haply she withers, she lives for ever- 
 such likemse was the case with William the Testy, who grew 
 touglier in proportion as he dried. He was some such a httle 
 Dutchman as we may now and then see stumping briskly 
 about the streets of our city, in a broad-skirted coat, with huge 
 buttons, and old-fashioned cocked-hat stuck on the back of 
 liis head, and a cane as high as his chin. His visage was 
 broad, and his features sharp, his nose turned up with the 
 most petulant curl ; his cheeks were scorched into a dusky red 
 —doubtless in consequence of the neighbourhood of two fierce 
 little gray eyes, through which his torrid soul beamed with 
 tropical fervour. The corners of his moutli were curiously 
 modelled into a kind of fretwork, not a httle resembling the 
 
134 
 
 A EIJSTOBT OF NEW-YOEK. 
 
 wrinkled proboscis of an irritable pug dog — in a word, be was 
 one of the most positive, restless, ugly little men that ever put 
 himseK in a passion about nothing. 
 
 Such were the personal endowments of William the Testy ; 
 but it was the sterHng riches of his mind that raised him to 
 dignity and power. In his youth he had passed with great 
 credit through a celebrated academy at the Hague, noted for 
 producing finished scholars with a despatch unequalled, ex- 
 cept by certain of our American colleges. Here he skirmished 
 very smartly on the frontiers of several of the sciences, and 
 made so gallant an inroad in the dead languages, as to bring 
 off captive a host of Greek nouns and Latin verbs, together 
 with divers pithy saws and apophthegms, all which he con- 
 stantly paraded in conversation and writing, with as much 
 vain-glory as would a triumphant general of yore display the 
 spoils of the countries he had ravaged. He had, moreover, 
 puzzled himself considerably with logic, in which he had ad- 
 vanced so far as to attain a very famihar acquaintance, by 
 name at least, with the whole family of syllogisms and dilem- 
 mas ; but what he chiefly valued himself on, was his know- 
 ledge of metaphysics in which, having once upon a time ven- 
 tured too deeply, he came well-nigh being smothered in a 
 slough of unintelligible learning— a fearful peril, from the 
 effects of which he never perfectly recovered. This, I must 
 confess, was in some measure a misfortune; for he never 
 engaged in argument, of which he was exceeding fond, but 
 what, between logical deductions and metaphysical jargon, 
 he soon involved himself and his subject in a fog of contra- 
 dictions and perplexities, and then would get into a mighty 
 passion with his adversary for not being convinced gratis. 
 
 It is in knowledge as in swimming: he who ostentatiously 
 sports and flounders on the surface, makes more noise and 
 splashing, and attracts more attention, than the industrious 
 pearl-diver, who phmges in search of treasures to the bottom. 
 The "universal acquirements" of William Kief t were the sub- 
 ject of great marvel and admiration among his countrymen- 
 he figured about at the Hague with as much vain-glory as does 
 a profound Bonze at Pekin, who has mastered half the lettei-s 
 of the Chinese alphabet; and, in a word, was unanimously 
 pronounced an iinivcrsal genius!— 1 have known many univer- 
 sal geniuses in my time, though, to speak my mmd freely, i 
 never knew one, who, for the ordinary purposes of life, was 
 worth his weight in straw— but, for the purposes of govern- 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 135 
 
 ment, a little sound judgment, and plain common sense, is 
 worth all the sparkling genius that ever wrote poetry, or in- 
 vented theories. 
 
 Strange as it may sound, therefore, the universal acquire- 
 ments of the illustrious Wilhelmus were very much in his way ; 
 and had he been a less learned man, it is possible he would 
 have been a much greater governor. He was exceedingly fond 
 of trying philosophical and political experiments ; and having 
 stulied his head full of scraps and remnants of ancient repub- 
 hcs, and oligarchies, and aristocracies, and monarchies, and 
 the laws of Solon, and Lycurgus, and Charondas, and the im- 
 aginary conmion wealth of Plato, and the Pandects of Justinian, 
 and a thousand other fragments of venerable antiquity, he was 
 for ever bent upon introducing some one or other of them into 
 use ; so that between one contradictory measure and another, 
 he entangled the government of the little province of Nieuw- 
 Nederlandts in more knots, during his administration, than 
 half-a-dozen successors could have untied. 
 
 No sooner had this bustling little man been bloT\Ti by a whiff 
 of fortune into the seat of government, than he called together 
 his council, and delivered a very animated speech on the affairs 
 of the province. As every body knows what a glorious oppor- 
 tunity a governor, a president, or even an emperor, has, of 
 drubbing his enemies in his speeches, messages, and bulletins, 
 where he has the talk all on his own side, they may be sure 
 the high-mettled William Kieft did not suffer so favourable an 
 occasion to escape him, of evincing that gallantry of tongue, 
 common to all able legislators. Before he commenced, it is re- 
 corded that he took out his pocket-handkerchief, and gave a 
 very sonorous blast of the nose, according to the usual custom 
 of great orators. This, in general, I believe, is intended as a 
 signal trumpet, to call the attention of the auditors, but with 
 William the Testy it boasted a more classic cause, for he had 
 read of the singular expedient of that famous demagogue, 
 Caius Gracchus, who, when he harangued the Roman popu- 
 lace, modulated his tones by an -^r^itorical flute or pitchpipe 
 
 This preparatory sympnony hem^ performed, he ^ jnimenced 
 by expressing an humble sense of his own want of talents— his 
 utter unworthiness of the honour conferred upon him, and his 
 humiliating incapacity to discharge the important duties of his 
 new station — in short, he expressed so contemptible an opinion 
 of himself, that many simple country members present, igno- 
 rant that these were mere words of course, always used on 
 
136 
 
 A HTSTOin OF NEW TORE. 
 
 such occasions, were very uneasj^, and even felt wroth that he 
 should accept an office, for which he was consciously so inade- 
 quate. 
 
 He then proceeded in a manner highly classic and profoundly 
 erudite, though nothing at all to the purpose, being nothing 
 more than a pompous account of all the governments of ancient 
 Greece, and the wars of Eome and Carthage, together with the 
 rise and fall of sundry outlandish empires, about which the 
 assembly knew no more than their great-grandchildren yet 
 unborn. Thus having, after the manner of your learned ora- 
 tors, convinced the audience that he was a man of many words 
 and great erudition, he at length came to the less important 
 part of his speech, the situation of the province — and here he 
 soon worked hhnself into a fearful rage against the Yankees, 
 whom he compared to the Gauls who desolated Rome, and the 
 Goths and Vandals who overran the fairest plains of Europe— 
 nor did he forget to mention, in terms of adequate opprobrium, 
 the insolence with which they had encroached upon the terri- 
 tories of New-Netherlands, and the unparalleled audacity with 
 which they had commenced the town of New-Plymouth, and 
 planted the onion-patches of Weathersfield, under the very 
 walls of Fort Goed Hoop. 
 
 Having thus artfully wrought up his tale of terror to a climax, 
 he assumed a self-satisfied look, and declared, with a nod of 
 knowing import, that he had taken measures to put a final stop 
 to these encroachments— that he had been obhged to have re- 
 course to a dreadful engine of warfare, lately invented, av/ful 
 in its effects, but authorized by direful necessity. In a word, 
 he was resolved to conquer the Yankees— by proclamation! 
 
 For this purpose he had prepared a tremendous instrument 
 of the kind, ordering, commanding, and enjoining the intruders 
 aforesaid, forthwith to remove, depart, and withdraw from the 
 districts, regions, and territories aforesaid, under pain of sufter- 
 ing all the penalties, forfeitures, and punishments in such case 
 made and provided. This proclamation, he assured them, would 
 at once exter]ninate the enemy from the face of the country, 
 and he pudged his valom as a governor, that within two 
 months after it was published, not one stone should remain on 
 another in any of the towns Avhich they had built. 
 
 The council remained for some time silent after he had fin- 
 ished; whether struck dumb with admiration at the bril- 
 hancy of his project, or put to sleep by the length of his ha- 
 rangue, the history of the times does not mention. Suffice 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 137 
 
 it to say, thoy at length gave a universal gnmt of acquiescence 
 — the proclamation was immediately despatched with dufe cere- 
 mony, having the great seal of the province, which was about 
 the size of a buckwheat pancake, attached to it by a. broad red 
 riband. Governor Kieft having thus vented his indignation, 
 felt greatly relieved - adjourned the council — i}ut on liis cocked 
 hat and corduroy small-clothes, and mounting a tall, raw-boned 
 charger, trotted out to his country-seat, which was situated in 
 a SAveet, sequestered swamp, now called Dutch-street, but more 
 commonly knov/n by the name of Dog's Misery. 
 
 Here, like the good Numa, he reposed from the toils of legis- 
 lation, taking lessons in government, not from the nymph 
 Egeria, but from the honoured wife of his bosom ; who was one 
 of that peculiar kind of females, sent upon earth a Httle after 
 the flood, as a punishment for the sins of mankind, and com- 
 monly known by the appellation of knowing ivomen. In fact, 
 my duty as a historian obliges me to make known a circum- 
 stance 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, Uke m^any other great secrets, has 
 leaked out in the lapse of years— and this was that the great 
 Wilhelmus the Testy, though one of the most potent little men. 
 that ever breathed, yet submitted at home to a species of gov- 
 ernment, 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, though 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 sar 
 casms of his particular friends, who are ever ready to joke 
 mth a man on sore points of the kind, by alleging that it was a 
 government of his own election, to which he subinitted 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.'''' 
 
138 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- TORE. 
 
 f 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN WHICH ARE RECORDED THE SAGE PROJECTS OF A RULER 0? 
 UNIVERSAL GENIUS — THE ART OF FIGHTING BY PROCLAMATION- 
 AMD HOW THAT THE VALIANT JACOBUS VAN CURLET CAME TO BF. 
 FOULLY DISHONOURED 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, 
 Hl?:ewise, so humane, so gentle and pacific, there were ten 
 chances to one in favour of its succeeding, — ^but then there was 
 one chance to ten that it woidd 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 — ail 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. 
 
 It was a long time before Wilhelmus Kieft could be per- 
 suaded, by the united efforts of all his counsellors, that his 
 war measures had failed in producing any effect. On the con- 
 trary, he flew in a passion whenever any one dared to ques- 
 tion its efficacy ; and swore that, though it was slow in operat- 
 ing, yet when once it began to work, it would soon purge the 
 land of these rapacious intruders. Time, however, that test of 
 all experiments, both in philosophy and politics, at length con- 
 vinced the great Kieft that his proclamation was abortive; and 
 that notwithstanding he had waited nearly four years in a state 
 of constant irritation, yet he was still farther oft" than ever 
 from the object of his wishes. His implacable adversaries in 
 the east became more and more troublesome in their encroach- 
 ments, and founded the thriving colony of Hartford close upon 
 the skirts of Fort Goed Hoop. They, moreover, commenced 
 the fair settlement of New-Hay en (otherwise called the Red 
 Hills) within the domams of their High ]\Iightinesses — wliile 
 the onion-patches of Piquag were a continual eyesore to the 
 garrison of Van Curlet. Upon beholding, therefore, the in- 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 139 
 
 efficacy of his measure, the sago Kieft, like many a worthy 
 practitioner of physic, laid the blame not to the medicine, but 
 to the quantity administered, and resolutely resolved to double 
 the dose. 
 
 In the year IGoS, therefore, that being the fourth year of his 
 reign, he fulminated against them a second proclamation, of 
 Iicavicr metal than the former ; written in thundering long sen- 
 tences, not one word of wliich was under five syllables. This, 
 in fact, was a kind of non-intercourse bill, forbidding and pro- 
 hibiting all commerce and connexion between any and every 
 of the said Yankee intruders, and the said fortified post of 
 Fort Goed Hoop, and ordering, commanding, and advising all 
 his trusty, loyal, and well-beloved sulojects to furnish them 
 with no supplies of gin, gingerbread, or sourkrout; to buy 
 none of their pacing horses, measly pork, apple-brandy, Yankee 
 rum, cider-Yv^ator, apple sweetmeats, Weathersfield onions, tin- 
 ware, or wooden bowls, but to starve and exterminate them 
 from the face of the land. 
 
 Another pause of a twelvemonth ensued, during which tliis 
 proclamation received the same attention and experienced the 
 same fate as the first. In truth, it Vv^as rendered of no avail by 
 the heroic spirit of the Nederlanders themselves. No sooner 
 were they prohibited the use of Yankee merchandise, than 
 it immediately became indispensable to their very existence. 
 The men who all their lives had been content to drink gin 
 and ride Esopus switch-tails, now swore that it was sheer 
 tyranny to deprive them of apple-brandy and Narraghanset 
 pacers ; and as to the women, they declared there was no com- 
 fort in hfe without Weathersfield onions, tin kettles, and 
 wooden bowls. So they all set to work, with might and main, 
 to carry on a smuggling trade over the borders ; and the pro- 
 vince was as full as ever of Yankee wares,— T^^th this differ- 
 ence, that those wlio used them had to pa,y double price, for 
 the trouble and risk incurred in breaking the la^vs. 
 / A signal benefit arose from these measures of Wilham the 
 Testy. The efforts to evade them had a marvellous effect in 
 shai^^ening the intellects of the people. They were no longer 
 to be governed without laws, as in the time of Oloffe the 
 Dreamer ; nor would the jack-knife and tobacco-box of Walter 
 the Doubter have any more served as a judicial process. The 
 old Nederlandt maxim, that honesty is the best policy," was 
 scouted as the bane of all ingenious enterprise. To use a mod- 
 <?m phrase, "a great impulse had been given to the pubhc 
 
140 
 
 4 HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 mind and from the time of this first experience in smugghng, 
 we may perceive a vast increase in the number, intiicacy, and 
 severity of laws and statutes— a sure proof of the increasing 
 keenness of pubhc intellect. 
 
 A twelvemonth having elapsed since the issuing of the pro- 
 clamation, the gallant Jacobus Van Curlet despatched his an- 
 nual messenger, with his customary budget of complaints and 
 entreaties. Whether the regular interval of a year, interven- 
 ing between the arrival of Van Curlet's couriers, was occar 
 sioned by the systematic regularity of his movements, or by 
 the immense distance at which he was stationed from the seat 
 of government, is a matter of uncertainty. Some have ascribed 
 it to the slowness of his messengers, who, as I have before 
 noticed, were chosen from the shortest and fattest of his garri- 
 son, as least hkely to be worn out on the road ; and who, being 
 pursy, short-winded little men, generally travelled fifteen miles 
 a day, and then laid by a whole week to rest. All these, how- 
 ever, are matters of conjecture; and I rather think it may be 
 ascribed to the immemorial maxim of this worthy country— 
 and which has ever influenced all its public transactions — not 
 to do things in a hurry. 
 
 The gallant Jacobus Van Curlet, in his despatches, respect- 
 fully represented that several years had now elapsed since his 
 first application to his late excellency, Wouter Van Twiller; 
 during which interval his garrison had been reduced nearly 
 one-eighth, by the death of two of his most valiant and corpu- 
 lent soldiers, who had accidentally over- eaten themselves on 
 some fat salmon, caught in the Varsche river. He further 
 stated, that the enemy persisted in their inroads, taking no 
 notice of the fort or its inhabitants : but squatting themselves 
 down, and forming settlements all around it ; so that, in a lit- 
 tle while, he should find himself inclosed and blockaded by 
 the enemy, and totally at their mercy. 
 
 But among the most atrocious of his gi'ievances, I find the 
 following still on record, which may serve to show the bloody- 
 minded outrages of these savage intruders. "In the mean- 
 time, 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 Netherlanders had 
 broken up and intended to sowe : and have beaten the servants 
 of the high and mighty the honored companie, which were 
 
A UISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 141 
 
 labouring upon theire master's lands, from theire lands, with 
 stick^5 and plow staves in hostile manner laming, and among 
 the rest, struck Ever Duckings* a hole in his head, with a 
 stick, so that the blood ran downe very strongly downe upon 
 his body." 
 But what is still more atrocious — 
 
 " Those of Hartford sold a hogg, that belonged to the hon- 
 ored companie, under pretence that it had eaten of theiro 
 grounde grass, when they had not any foot of inheritance. 
 They proffered the hogg for 5s. if the commissioners would 
 have given 58. 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. "f 
 
 The receipt of this melancholy intelligence incensed the 
 whole community — there was something in it that spoke to 
 the dull comj)rehension, and touched the obtuse feelings, even 
 of the puissant vulgar, who generally require a kick in the 
 rear to awaken their slumbering dignity. I have known my 
 profound fellow-citizens bear, without murmur, a thousand 
 essential infringements of their rights, merely because they 
 were not immediately obvious to their senses — but the mo- 
 ment the unlucky Pearce was shot upon our coasts, the whole 
 body politic v/a.s in a ferment — so the enlightened Neder- 
 landers, though they had treated the encroachments of their 
 eastern neighbours with but little regard, and left their quill- 
 valiant governor to bear the whole brunt of war with his 
 single pen— yet now every individual felt his head broken 
 in the broken head of Duckings — and the unhappy tate of their 
 fellow-citizen the hog being impressed, carried and sold into 
 captivity, awakened a grunt of sympathy from every bosom. 
 
 The governor and council, goaded by the clamours of the 
 multitude, now set themselves earnestly to deliberate upon 
 what was to be done. — Proclamations had at length fallen into 
 temporary disrepute : some v/ere for sending the Yankees a tri- 
 bute, as we make peace-offering to the petty Barbary powers, 
 or as the Indians sacrifice to the devil ; others were for buy- 
 ing them out, but this was opposed, as it would be acknow- 
 ledging their title to the land they had seized. A variety of 
 
 * This name is no doubt misspelt. In some old Dutch MSS. of the time, we find 
 the name of Evert Duyckingh, who is unquestionably the unfortunate hero above 
 alluded to. 
 
 t Haz. Col. State Papers. 
 
142 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 measures were, as usual in such cases, produced, discussed, 
 and abandoned, and the council had at last to adopt the 
 means, which being the most common and obvious, had been 
 knowingly overlooked— for your amazing acute politicians are 
 for ever looking through telescopes, which only enable them 
 to see such objects as are far off, and unattainable, but whic]i 
 incapacitate them to see such things as are in their reach, and 
 obvious to all simple folks, who are content to look with the 
 naked eyes Heaven has given them. The profound council, as 
 I have said, in the pursuit after Jack-o'-lanterns, accidentally 
 stumbled on the very measure they were in need of : which 
 was to raise a body of troops, and despatch them to the relief 
 and reenf orcement of the garrison. This measure was carried 
 into such prompt operation, that in less than twelve months, 
 the whole expedition, consisting of a sergeant and twelve men, 
 was ready to march; and was re'vdewed for that purpose, in 
 the public square, now known by the name of the Bowling- 
 Green. Just at this juncture, the whole community was 
 thrown into consternation, by the sudden arrival of the gal- 
 lant Jacobus Van Curlet, who came straggling into town at 
 the head of his crew of tatterdemalions, and bringing the 
 melancholy tidings of his own defeat, and the capture of the 
 redoubtable post of Fort Goed Hoop by the ferocious Yankees. 
 
 The fate of this important fortress is an impressive warning 
 to all military commanders. It was neither carried by storm 
 nor famine ; no practicable breach was effected by cannon or 
 mines; no magazines were blown up by red-hot shot, nor 
 were the barracks demolished, or the garrison destroyed, by 
 the bursting of bombshells. In fact, the place was taken by a 
 stratagem no less singular than effectual; and one that can 
 never fail of success, whenever an opportunity occurs of put- 
 ting it in practice. Happy am 1 to add, for the credit of our 
 illustrious ancestors, that it was a stratagem, which though it 
 impeached the vigilance, yet left the bravery of the intrepid 
 Van Curlet and his garrison perfectly free from reproach. 
 
 It appears that the crafty Yankees, having heard of the 
 regular habits of the garrison, watched a favourable oppor- 
 tunity, and silently introduced themselves into the fort, about 
 the middle of a sultry day ; when its vigilant defenders, having 
 gorged themselves with a hearty dinner, and smoked out their 
 pi])es. were one and all snoring most obstreperously at their 
 posts, little dreaming of so disastrous an occurrence. The 
 enemy most inhumanly seized Jacobus Van Curlet and his 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. H3 
 
 sturdy myrmidons by tho nape of the neck, gallanted them to 
 the gate of the fort, and dismissed them severally, with a kick 
 on the crupper, as Charles the Twelfth dismissed the heavy- 
 bottomed Russians, after the battle of Narva — only taking care 
 to give two kicks to Van Curlet, as a signal mark of distinc- 
 tion. 
 
 j A strong garrison was immediately established in the fort, 
 consisting of twenty long-sided, hard-listed Yankees, with 
 Wcathersfield onions stuck in their hats by way of cockades 
 and feathers — long rusty fowling-pieces for muskets — hasty- 
 pudding, dumb-fish, pork and molasses, for stores; and a huge 
 pumpkin was hoisted on the end of a pole, as a standard — 
 liberty caps not having yet come into fashion. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONTAINING THE FEARFUL WRATH OF WILLIAM THE TESTY, AND 
 THE GREAT DOLOUR OF THE NEW-AMSTERDAMERS, BECAUSE OP 
 THE AFFAIR OF FORT GOED HOOP — AND, MOREOVER, HOW WIL- 
 LIAM THE TESTY DID STRONGLY FORTIFY THE CITY — TOGETHER 
 WITH THE EXPLOITS OF STOFFEL BRINKERTIOFF. 
 
 Language cannot express the prodigious fury into which the 
 testy Wilhclmus Kieft was thrown by this provoking intelli- 
 gence. For three good hours the rage of the little man was 
 too great for words, or rather the words were too gi'eat for 
 him ; and he was nearly choked by some dozen huge, mis- 
 shapen, nine-cornered Dutch oaths, that crowded all at once 
 into his gullet. Having blazed off the first broadside, he kept 
 up a constant firing for three whole days — anathematizing 
 the Yankees, man, woman, and child, body and soul, for a set 
 of dieven, schobbejaken, deugenieten, tmst-zoekeren, loozen- 
 schalken, blaes-kaken, kakken-bedden, and a thousand other 
 names, of wluch, unfortunately for posterity, liistory does not 
 make mention. Finally, he swore that he would have notliing 
 more to do with such a squatting, bundling, guessing, ques- 
 tioning, swapping, pumpkin-eating, molasses-daubing, shingle- 
 sphtting, cider-watering, horse-jockeying, notion-peddhng 
 crew— that they might stay at Fort Goed Hoop and rot, before 
 he would dirty his hands by attempting to drive them away ; 
 
144 
 
 .'1 IIISTORT OF NEW-TORE. 
 
 in proof of which, he ordered the new-raised troops to bo 
 marched forthwith into winter-quarters, although it was not 
 as yet quite mid-summer. Governor Kieft faithfully kept his 
 word, and his adversaries as faithfully kept their post ; and 
 thus the glorious river Connecticut, and all the gay valleys 
 tiirough vv^iich it rolls, together with the salmon, shad, and 
 other fish within its waters, fell into the hands of the victo- 
 rious Yankees, by whom they are held at this very day. 
 
 Great despondency seized upon the city of New Amsterdam, 
 in consequence of these melancholy events. The name of Yan- 
 kee became as terrible among our good ancestors as was that 
 of Gaul among the ancient Eomans; and all the sage old 
 women of the province used it as a bugbear, wherewith to 
 frightsn their unruly children into obedience. 
 
 The eyes of all the province were now turned upon their go- 
 vernor, to know what he would do for the protection of the 
 common weal, in these days of darkness and peril. Great 
 apprehensions prevailed among the reflecting part of the com- 
 munity, especially the old women, that these terrible warriors 
 of Connecticut, not content with the conquest of Fort Goed 
 Hoop, would incontinently march on to New- Amsterdam and 
 take it by storm — and as these old ladies, through means of the 
 governor's spouse, who, as has been already hinted, was ' ' the 
 better horse," had obtained considerable influence in public 
 affairs, keeping the province under a kind of petticoat govern- 
 ment, it was determined that measures should be taken for the 
 effective fortification of the city. 
 
 Now it happened, that at this time there sojourned in New- 
 Amsterdam one Anthony Van Corlear,* a jolly fat Dutch 
 trumpeter, of a pleasant burly visage, famous for his long wind 
 and his huge whiskers, and who, as the story goes, could twang 
 so potently upon his instrument, as to produce an effect upon 
 all within hearing, as though ten thousand bag-pipes were sing- 
 ing right lustily i' the nose. Him did the illustrious Kieft pick 
 out as the man of all the world most fitted to be the cliampion of 
 New- Amsterdam, and to garrison its tort ; making little doubt 
 but tha.t his instrument would be as effectual and offensive in 
 war as was that of the paladin Astolpho, or the more classic 
 
 * David Pietrez De Vries, in his " Rejze naer Niemv-Nertorlant onder het. year 
 1640," makes mention of one Corlear, a trumpeter in Fort Amsterdam, who gave 
 name to Corlear's Hook, and who was doubtless this same champion described 
 by Mr. Kmckerbocker.— Editor. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 145 
 
 horn of Alecto. It would have done one's heart good to have 
 seen the governor snapping his fingers and fidgeting with dc- 
 hght, wliile his sturdy trumpeter strutted uj) and down the 
 ramparts, fearlessly twanging liis trumpet in the face of the 
 whol(3 world, like a thrice- valorous editor daringly insultinjf all 
 the princii)alities and powers — on the other side of the Atlantic. 
 
 Nor was he content with thus strongly garrisoning the fort, 
 but he likewise added exceedingly to its strength, by furnit:li - 
 ing it with a formidable battery of quaker guns— rearing a stu- 
 pendous flag-staff in the centre, which overtopped the whole 
 city — and, moreover, by building a great windmill on one of the 
 bastions.* This last, to be sure, was somewhat of a novelty in 
 the art of fortification, but, as I have already observed, William 
 Kieft was notorious for innovations and experiments ; and tra- 
 ditions do affirm, that he was much given to mechanical inven- 
 tions-constructing patent smoke-jacks— carts that before 
 the horses, and especially erecting windmills, for which ma- 
 chines he had acquired a singular predilection in his native 
 town of Saardam. 
 
 All these scientific vagaries of the little governor were cried 
 up with ecstasy by his adherents, as proofs of his universal 
 genius— but there were not wanting ill-natured grumblers, who 
 railed at him as employing his mind in frivolous pursuits, and 
 devoting that time to smoke-jacks and windmills which should 
 have been occupied in the more important concerns of the pro- 
 vince. Nay, they even went so far as to hint, once or twice, 
 that his head was turned by his experiments, and that he 
 really thought to manage his government as he did his mills— 
 by mere wind ! — such are the illiberality and slander to which 
 enlightened rulers are ever subject. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the measures, therefore, of William the 
 Testy, to place the city in a posture of defence, the inhabitants 
 continued in great alarm and despondency. But fortune, who 
 seems always careful, in the very nick of time, to throw a bone 
 for hojDe to gnaw upon, that the starvehng elf may be kept 
 alive, did o.bout this time crown the arms of the province with 
 success in another quarter, and thus cheered the drooping 
 hearts of the forlorn Nederlanders ; otherwise, there is no 
 knowing to what lengths they might have gone in the excess 
 
 * De Vries mentions that this windmill stood on the south-east bastion; find it is 
 likewise to be seen, together with the flag-staff, in Justus Banker's View of New- 
 
14G 
 
 A JIISTORY OF jSEW-YORK. 
 
 of their sorrowing — "for grief," says the profound historian 
 of the seven champions of Christendom, "is companion with 
 despair, and despair a procurer of infamous death !" 
 
 ^mong the numerous inroads of the mosstroopers of Con- 
 necticut, Avhich for some time past had occasioned such great 
 tribulation, I should particularly have mentioned a settlement 
 made on the eastern part of Long Island, at a place which, 
 from the peculiar excellence of its shell-fish, was called Oyster 
 Bay. This was attacking the province in the most sensible 
 part, and occasioned great agitation at New- Amsterdam. 
 
 It is an incontrovertible fact, well known to skilful johysiolo- 
 gists, that the high road to lihe affections is through the throat ; 
 and this may be accounted for on the same principles which I 
 have already quoted in my strictures on fat aldermen. Nor is 
 the fact unknown to the world at large ; and hence do we ob- 
 serve, that the surest way to gain the hearts of the million, is 
 to feed them well — and that a man is never so disposed to flat- 
 ter, to please and serve another, p,s when he is feeding at his 
 expense ; which is one reason why your rich men, who give 
 frequent dinners, have such abundance of sincere and faithful 
 friends. It is on this principle that our knowing leaders of 
 parties secure the affections of their partisans, by rewarding 
 them bountifully with loaves and fishes ; and entrap the suf- 
 frages of the greasy mob, by treating them with bull feasts and 
 roasted oxen. I have known many a man, in this same city, 
 acquire considerable importance in society, and usurp a large 
 share of the good-will of his enlightened fellow-citizens, when 
 the only thing that could be said in his eulogium was, that 
 " he gave a good dinner, and kept excellent wine." 
 
 Since, then, the heart and the stomach are so nearly allied, 
 it follows conc^_usively that what affects the one, must sympa- 
 thetically affect the other. Now, it is an equally incontro- 
 vertible fact, that of all offerings to the stomach, there is none 
 more grateful than the testaceous marine animal, known com- 
 monly by the vulgar name of Oyster. And in such great rev- 
 erence has it ever been held, by my gormandizing fellow-citi- 
 zens, that temples have been dedicated to it, time out of mind, 
 in every street, lane, and alley throughout tliis well-fed city. 
 It is not to be expected, therefore, that the seizing of Oyster 
 Bay, a place abounding with their favourite dehcacy, would be 
 tolerated by the inhabitants of New- Amsterdam. An attack 
 upon their honour they might have pardoned; even the mas- 
 sacre of a few citizens might have been passed over in silence ; 
 
A niSTORY OF KKW-TORK. 
 
 147 
 
 hut an outrage that affected the larders of the great city of 
 New- Amsterdam, and threatened the stomachs of its corpulent 
 burgomasters, was too serious to pass unrevcnged. — The whole 
 council was unanimous in opinion, that the intruders should 
 be immediately di-iven by force of arms from Oyster Bay and 
 its \dcinity, and a detachment was accordingly despatched for 
 the purpose, under the command of one Stoffel Brinkerhoff , or 
 Brinkerhoofd, {i.e. Stoffel, the head-breaker,) so called because 
 he was a man of mighty deeds, famous throughout the whole 
 extent of Nieuw-Nederlandts for his skill at quarter-staff ; and 
 for size, he would have been a match for Colbrand, the Danish 
 champion, slain by Guy of Warwick. 
 
 Stoffel Brinkerhoff was a man of few words, but prompt 
 actions— one of your straight-going officers, who march directly 
 forward ; and do their orders without making any parade. He 
 used no extraordinary speed in his movements, but trudged 
 steadily on, through Nineveh and Babylon, and Jericho and 
 Patchog, and the mighty town of Quag, and various other 
 renowned cities of yore, which, by some unaccountable witch- 
 craft of the Yankees, have been strangely transplanted to 
 Long Island, until he arrived in the neighbourhood of Oyster 
 Bay. 
 
 Here was he encountered by a tumultuous host of vahant 
 warriors, headed by Preserved Fish, and Habakkuk Nutter, 
 and Eeturn Strong, and Zerubbabel Fish, and Jonathan Doo- 
 little, and Deternxined Cock I — at the sound of whose names the 
 courageous Stoffel verily believed that the v/hole parliament 
 of Praise-God-Barebones had been let loose to discomfit him. 
 Finding, however, that this formidable body was composed 
 merely of the "select men" of the settlement, armed with no 
 other weapon but their tongues, and that they had issued forth 
 with no other intent than to meet him on the field of argument 
 —he succeeded in rnitting them to the rout with little diffi- 
 culty, and completely broke up their settlement. Without 
 waiting to write an account of his victory on the spot, and 
 thus letting the enemy shp through his fingers, while he was 
 securing his own laurels, as a more experienced general would 
 have done, the brave Stoffel thought of nothing but completing 
 his enterprise, and utterly driving the Yankees from the island. 
 This hardy enterprise he performed in much the same manner 
 as he had been accustomed to drive his oxen ; for as the Yan- 
 kees fled before him, he pulled up his breeches and trudged 
 steadily after them, and woidd infallibly have driven them 
 
148 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TOliK. 
 
 into the sea, had they not begged for quarter, and agreed to 
 pay tribute. 
 
 The news of this achievement was a seasonable restorative 
 to the spiiits of the citizens of New- Amsterdam. To gratify 
 them still more, the governor resolved to astonish tiiein with 
 one of those gorgeous spectacles, known in the days of classic 
 a itiquity, a full account of which had been flogged into his 
 memory, when a school-boy at the Hague. A grand triumph, 
 therefore, was decreed to Stoifel Brinkerhoff, who made his 
 triumphant entrance into town riding on a Naraganset pacer ; 
 five pumi>kms, which, hke Eoman eagles, had served the 
 enemy for standards, were carried before him— fifty cart loads 
 of oysters, five hundred bushels of Weathersfield onions, a hun- 
 dred quintals of codfish, two hogsheads of molasses, and vari- 
 ous other treasures, were exhibited as the spoils and tribute of 
 the Yankees ; while three notorious counterfeiters of Manliat- 
 tan notes * were led captive, to grace the hero's triumph. The 
 procession was enlivened by martial music from the trumpet 
 of Anthony Van Corlear, the champion, accompanied by a 
 select band of boys and negroes performing on the national in- 
 struments of rattle-bones and clam-shells. The citizens de- 
 voured the spoils in sheer gladness of heart— every man did 
 honour to the conqueror, by getting devoutly drunk on New- 
 England rum — and the learned Wilhelmus Kieft, calling to 
 mind, in a momentary fit of enthusiasm and generosity, that 
 it was customary among the ancients to honour their victo- 
 rious generals with pubhc statues, passed a gracious decree, by 
 which every tavern-keeper was permitted to paint the head of 
 the intrepid Stofiel on his sign ! 
 
 *This is one of those trivial anachronisms, that now and then occur in the course 
 of this otherwise authentic history. How could Manhattan notes be counterfeited, 
 when as yet Banks were unknown in this country?— and our simple progenitors had 
 pot even dreamt of those inexhaustible mines of paper opulence.— Fbiht:. Dev. 
 
A UISTOUY OF JVmV-YOliK 
 
 149 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL REFLECTIONS ON THE FOLLY OF BEING HAPPTZ 
 IN TIMES OF PROSPERITY — SUNDRY TROUBLES ON THE SOUTH- 
 ERN FRONTIERS— HOW WILLIAM THE TESTY HAD WELL NIGH 
 RUINED THE PROVINCE THROUGH A CABALISTIC WORD— AS ALSO 
 THE SECRET EXPEDITION OF JAN JANSEN ALPENDAM, AND HIS 
 ASTONISHING REWARD. 
 
 If we could but get a peep at the tally of dame Fortune, 
 where, like a notable landlady, she regularly chalks up the 
 debtor and, creditor accounts of mankind, we should find that, 
 upon the whole, good and evil are pretty near balanced in this 
 world ; and that though we may for a long while revel in the 
 very lap of prosperity, the time will at length come when we 
 must ruefully pay off the reckoning. Fortune, in fact, is a pes- 
 tilent shrew, and withal a most inexorable creditor ; for though 
 she may indulge her favourites in long credits, and overwhelm 
 them with her favours, yet sooner or later she brings up her 
 arrears with the rigour of an experienced publican, and washes 
 out her scores with their tears. ''Since," says good old 
 Boetius, " no man can retain her at his pleasure, and since her 
 flight is so deeply lamented, what are her favours but sure 
 prognostications of approaching trouble and calamity?" 
 
 There is nothing that more moves my contempt at the stu- 
 pidity and want of reflection of my fellow-men, than to behold 
 them rejoicing, and indulging in security and self-confidence, 
 in times of prosperity. To a wise man, who is blessed with the 
 light of reason, those are the very moments of anxiety and ap- 
 prehension; well knowing that according to the system of 
 things, happiness is at best but transient— and that the higher 
 he is elevated by the capricious breath of fortune, the lower 
 must be his proportionate depression. Whereas, he who is 
 overwhelmed by calamity, has the less chance of encounter- 
 ing fresh disasters, as a man at the bottom of a ladder runs 
 very little risk of breaking his neck by tumbling to the top. 
 
 This is the very essence of true wisdom, which consists in 
 knowing when we ought to be miserable; and w^as discovered 
 much about the same time w^ith that invaluable secret, that 
 *' every thing is vanity and vexation of sptiit;" in consequence 
 of wliich maxim, your wise men have ever been the unhappi- 
 
150 
 
 A niSTOllY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 est of the human race ; esteeming it as an inf alUble mark of 
 genius to bo distressed without reason— since any man may 
 be miserable in time of misfortune, but it is the philosopher 
 alone who can discover cause for grief in the very hour of 
 prosperity. 
 
 According to the principle I have just advanced, we find that 
 the colony of New-Netherlands, which, under the reign of the 
 renowned Van Twill er, had flourished in such alarming and 
 fatal serenity, is now paying for its former welfare, and dis 
 charging the enormous debt of comfort which it contracted. 
 Foes harass it from different quarters; the city of New- Am- 
 sterdam, while yet in its infancy, is kept in constant alarm; 
 and its valiant commander, William the Testy, answers the 
 vtdgar, but expressive idea, of " a man in a peck of troubles." 
 
 While busily engaged repelling his bitter enemies the Yankees 
 on one side, we fin d him suddenly molested in another quai'ter, 
 and by other assailants. A vagrant colony of Swedes, under 
 the conduct of Peter Minnewits, and professing allegiance to 
 that redoubtable virago, Christina, queen of Sweden, had set- 
 tled themselves and erected a fort on South (or Delaware) 
 River — within the boundaries claimed by the government of 
 the New-Netherlands. History is mute as to the particulars of 
 their first landing, and their real pretensions to the soil ; and 
 this is the more to be lamented, as this same colony of Swedes 
 wdll hereafter be found most materially to affect not only the 
 interests of the Nederlanders, but of the world at large ! 
 
 In whatever manner, therefore, this vagabond colony of 
 Swedes first took possession of the country, it is certain that in 
 1C38 they established a fort, and Minnewits, according to the 
 off-hand usage of his contemporaries, declared himself governor 
 of all the adjacent country, under the name of the province of 
 New Sweden. No sooner did this reach the ears of the choleric 
 Wilhelmus, than, like a true-spirited chieftain, he immediately 
 broke into a violent rage, and calhng together his council, Ix)- 
 laboiu'cd the Swedes most lustily in the longest speech that had 
 ever been heard in the colony, since the memorable dispute of 
 Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. Having thus given vent 
 to the first ebullitions of his indignation, he ha.d resort to his 
 favourite measure of proclamation, and despa.tched one, piping 
 hot, in the first year of his reign, mforming Peter Minnewits 
 that the whole territory, bordering on the South river, had. 
 time out of mind, been in possession of the Dutch colonists, 
 having been " beset with forts, and sealed with their blood." 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 15) 
 
 The latter sanguinary scnience would convey an idea of dire- 
 ful war and bloodshed, were we not relieved by the information 
 that it merely related to a fray, in which some half-a-dozen 
 Dutchmen had been killed by the Indians, in their benevolent 
 attempts to establish a colony and promote civilization. Bj 
 this it will be seen, that William Kieft, though a very small man, 
 delighted in big expressions, and was much given to a praise 
 worthy figure of rhetoric, generally cultivated by your little 
 great men, called hyperbole — a figure which has been found of 
 infinite service among many of his class, and which has helped 
 to swell the grandeur of many a mighty, self-important, but 
 windy chief magistrate. Nor can I refrain in this place from 
 observing how much my beloved country is indebted to this 
 same figure of hyperbole, for supporting certam of her gi-eat- 
 est characters— statesmen, orators, civiMans, and divines ; who, 
 by dint of big words, inflated periods, and windy doctrines, 
 are kept afloat on the surface of society, as ignorant swimmers 
 are buoyed up by blown bladders. 
 
 The proclamation against Minnewits concluded by orderinr; 
 the self -dubbed governor, and his gang of Swedish adventurers, 
 immediately to leave the country, under penalty of the high 
 displeasure and inevitable vengeance of the puissant government 
 of the Nieuw-Nederlandts. This "strong measure," however, 
 does not seem to have had a whit more effect than its prede- 
 cessors which had been thundered against the Yankees — the 
 Swedes resolutely held on to the territory thej^ had taken pos- 
 session of — whereupon matters for the present remained in 
 statu quo. 
 
 That Wilhelmus Kieft should put up with this insolent ob- 
 stinacy in the Swedes, would appear incompatible with his val- 
 orous temperament ; but Ave find that about this time the httlo 
 man had his hands fuU, and, Avhat with one annoyance and 
 another, was kept continually on the bounce. 
 
 There is a certain description of active legislators, who, by 
 shrewd management, contrive always to have a hundred irons 
 on the anvil, every one of which must be immediately attended 
 to; who consequently are ever full of temporary shifts and ex- 
 pedients, patching up the pubhc welfare, and cobbhng the na- 
 tional affairs, so as to make nine holes where they mend one— 
 stopping chinks and flaws with whatever comes first to hand, 
 like the Yankees I have mentioned, stuffing old clothes in 
 broken windows. Of this class of statesmen was William the 
 Testy — and had he only been blessed with powers equaJ to his 
 
152 
 
 A IIJSTOUY OB' ^ h:\V-70RK. 
 
 zeal, or his zeal been disciplined by a little discretion, there is 
 very little doubt that he would have made the greatest governor 
 of his size on record — the renowned governor of the island of 
 Barataria alone excepted. 
 
 Tlie great defect of Wilhelmus Kieft's policy was, that 
 hough no man could be more ready to stand forth in an hour 
 :»f emergency, yet he was so intent upon guardiag the national 
 pocket, that he suffered the enemy to break its head — in other 
 words, whatever i)recaution for public safety he adopted, he 
 was so intent upon rendering it cheap, that he invariably ren- 
 dered it ineffectual. All this was a remote consequence of his 
 profound education at the Hague — where, having acquired a 
 smattering of knowledge, he was ever after a great Conner of 
 indexes, continually dipping into books, without ever studying 
 to the bottom of any subject; so that he had the scum of all 
 kinds of authors fermenting in his pericranium. In some of 
 these title-page researches, he unluckily stumbled over a grand 
 political cabalistic icord, which, with his customary facihty, 
 he unmediately incorporated into his great scheme of govern- 
 ment, to the irretrievable injury and delusion of the honest 
 province of Nieuw-Nederlandts, and the eternal misleading of 
 all experimental rulers. 
 
 In vain have I pored over the theurgia of the Chaldeans, the 
 cabala of the Jews, the necromancy of the Ai^abians, the magic 
 of the Persians, the hocus-pocus of the English, the witchcraft 
 of the Yankees, or the powwowing of the Indians, to discover 
 where the little man first laid eyes on this terrible word. 
 Neither the Sephir Jetzirah, that famous cabahstic volume, 
 ascribed to the patriarch Abraham; nor the pages of Zohar, 
 containing the mysteries of the cabala, recorded by the learned 
 rabbi Simon Sochaides, yield any light to my inquiries — nor 
 am I in the least benefited by my painful researches in the 
 Shem-ham-phorah of Benjamin, the wandering Jew, though it 
 enabled Davidus Elm to make a ten days' journey in twenty- 
 four hours. Neither can I perceive the slif^htest afltinity in the 
 Tetragrammaton, or sacred name of four letters, the profound- 
 est word of the Hebrew cabala ; a mystery sublime, ineffable, 
 and incommunicable — and the letters of which, Jod-He-Yau- 
 He, having been stolen by the pagans, constituted their great 
 name, Jao or Jove. In short, in all my cabalistic, theurgic, 
 necromantic, magicaJ., and astrological researches, from the 
 Tetractys of Pythagoras to the recondite works of Breslaw aLd 
 Mother Bunch, I have not discovered the least vestige of an 
 
A JIIiSTOIlY OF NEW TOllK. 
 
 153 
 
 origin of this word, nor have I discovered any word of suffi- 
 cient potency to counteract it. 
 
 Not to keep my reader in any suspense, the word which had 
 so wonderfully arrested the attention of William the Testy, 
 and which in German characters had a particularly black and 
 ominous aspect, on being fairly translated into the Enghsh, is 
 no other than economy — a talismanic term, which, by con- 
 stant use and frequent mention, has ceased to be formidable in 
 our eyes, but which has as terrible potency as any in tho 
 arcana of necromancy . 
 
 When pronounced in a national assembly, ii has an mimedi- 
 ate effect in closing the hearts, beclouding the intellects, draw- 
 ing the purse-strings and buttonin;^ the breeches-pockets of all 
 philosophic legislators. Nor are its effects on the eyes less 
 wonderful, It produces a contraction of the retina, an obscur- 
 ity of the crystalline lens, a viscidity of the vitreous and an 
 inspissation of the aqueous humours, an induration of the 
 tunica sclerotica, and a convexity of the cornea ; insomuch that 
 the organ of vision loses its strength and perspicuity, and the 
 unfortunate patient becomes myopes, or, in plain English, pur- 
 bhnd ; perceiving only the amount of immediate expense, with- 
 out being able to look farther, and regard it in connexion with 
 the ultimate object to be effected— "So that," to quote the 
 words of the eloquent Burke, ' ' a briar at his nose is of greater 
 magnitude than an oak at five hundred yards' distance. " Such 
 are its instantaneous operations, and the results are still more 
 i astonishing. By its magic influence, seventy -fours shrink into 
 frigates — frigates into sloops, and sloops into gun-boats. 
 
 This all-potent word, wliich served as his touchstone in poli- 
 tics, at once explains the whole system of proclamations, pro- 
 t tests, empty threats, windmills, trumpeters, and paper war, 
 \ carried on by Wilhelmus the Testy — and we may trace its ope- 
 [ rations in an armament which he fitted out in 1642, in a 
 !! moment of great wrath, consisting of tv/o sloops and thirty 
 \ men, under the command of Mynheer Jan Jansen Alpendani, 
 ! *as admiral of the fleet, and commander-in-chief of the forces. 
 ' This formidable expedition, wliich can only be paralleled by 
 i some of the daring cruises of our infant navy about the bay 
 j and up the Sound, was intended to drive the Mary landers 
 I from the Schuylkill, of which they had recently taken posses- 
 \ sion— and which was claimed as part of the province of New- 
 Nederlandts — for it appears that at this time our infant colony 
 was in that enviable state, so much coveted by ambitious 
 
154 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEWTORK. 
 
 natjons, that is to say, the government had a vast extent of 
 territory, part of which it enjoyed, and the greater part of 
 which it had continually to quarrel about. 
 
 Admiral Jan Jansen Alpendam was a man of great mettle 
 and prowess, and no way dismayed at the character of the 
 enemy, who were represented as a gigantic, gunpowder race 
 of men, who lived on hoe-cakes and bacon, drank mint-juleps 
 and apple-toddy, and were exceedingly expert at boxing, biting, 
 gouging, tar and feathering, and a variety of other athletic 
 accomplishments, which they had borrowed from their cousins- 
 german and prototypes, the Virginians, to whom they ha<I 
 ever borne considerable resemblance. Notwithstanding all 
 these alarming representations, the admiral entered the 
 Schuylkill most undauntedly with his fleet, and arrived with- 
 out disaster or opposition at the place of destination. 
 
 Here he attacked the enemy in a vigorou speech in Low 
 Dutch, which the wary Kief t had previously put in his pocket ; 
 wherein he courteously commenced by calling them a pack 
 of lazy, louting, dram-drinking, cock-fighting, horse-racing, 
 slave-driving, tavern-haunting, Sabbath-breaking, mulatto- 
 breeding upstarts— and concluded by ordering them to evacu- 
 ate the country immediately— to which they most laconically 
 rephed in plain English, they'd see him d d first." 
 
 Now this was a reply for which neither Jan Jansen Alpen- 
 dam nor Wilhelmus Kieft had made any calculation— and find- 
 ing himself totally unprepared to answer so terrible a rebuff 
 with suitable hostility, he concluded that his wisest course was 
 to return home and report progress. He accordingly sailed 
 back to New- Amsterdam, where he was received with great 
 honours, and considered as a pattern for all commanders; 
 having achieved a most hazardous enterprise, at a trifling ex- 
 pense of treasure, and without losing a single man to the State ! 
 He was unanimously called the deliverer of his country, (an 
 appellation liberally bestowed on all great men ;) his two sloops, 
 having done their duty, were laid up (or dry-docked) in a cove 
 now called the Albany basin, where they quietly rotted in the 
 mud ; and to immortalize his name, they erected, by subscrip- 
 tion, a magnificent sliingle monument on the top of Flatten- 
 barrack hill, which lasted three whole years ; when it fell to 
 pieces and was burnt for firewood. 
 
^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 now WILLIAM THE TESTY ENRICHED THE PROVINCE BY A MULTI^ 
 TUDE OF LAWS, AND CAME TO BE THE PATRON OP LAWYERS AND 
 BUM-BAILIFFS —AND HOW THE PEOPLE BECAME EXCEEDINGLY 
 ENLIGHTENED AND UNHAPPY UNDER HIS INSTRUCTIONS. 
 
 Among the many wrecks and fragments of exalted wisdom 
 which have floated down the stream of time, from venerable 
 antiquity, and have been carefully picked up by those humble, 
 but industrious wights, who ply along the shores of literature, 
 we find the following sage ordinance of Charondas, the Locrian 
 legislator. Anxious to preserve the ancient laws of the state 
 from the additions and improvements of profound "country 
 members," or officious candidates for popmarity, he ordained 
 that whoever proposed a new law, should do it with a halter 
 about his neck ; so that in case his proposition was rejected, 
 they just hung him up— and there the matter ended. 
 
 This salutary institution had such an effect, that for more 
 than two hundred years there was only one trifling alteration 
 in the criminal code — and the whole race of lawyers starved to 
 death for want of employment. The consequence ot this was, 
 that the Locrians, being unprotected by an overwhelming load 
 of excellent laws, and undefended by a standing army of petti- 
 foggers and sheriff's officers, lived very lovingly together, and 
 were such a happy people, that they scarce make any figure 
 throughout the whole Grecian history — for it is well known 
 that none but your unlucky, quarrelsome, rantipole nations 
 make any noise in the world. 
 
 Well would it have been for William the Testy, had he 
 haply, in the course of his "universal acquirements," stumbled 
 upon this precaution of the good Charondas. On the contrary, 
 he conceived that the true policy of a legislator was to mul- 
 tiply laws, and thus secure the property, the persons, and the 
 morals of the people, by surrounding them in a manner with 
 men-traps and spring-guns, and besetting even the sweet 
 sequestered walks of private hfe with quickset hedges, so that 
 a man could scarcely turn, without the risk of encounteiing 
 some of these pestiferous protectors. Thus was he continually 
 coining petty laws for every petty offence that occurred, until 
 in time they became too numerous to be remembered, and re- 
 caained like those of. certaia modem legislators, mere dead- 
 
156 
 
 A IIISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 letters — revived occasionally for the purpose of individual 
 oppression, or to entrap ignorant offenders. 
 
 Petty courts consequently began to appear, where the law 
 was administered v/ith nearly as much wisdom and impar- 
 tiality as in those august tribunals, the alderman's and jus- 
 tice's courts 01 the present day. The plaintiff was generally 
 favoured, as being a customer and briaging business to the 
 shop ; the offences of the rich were discreetly winked at — for 
 fear of hurting the feelings of theii' friends; — but it could 
 never be laid to the charge of the vigUant burgomasters, that 
 they suffered ^^ce to skiilk unpunished, under the disgraceful 
 rags of poverty. 
 
 About this time may we date the first introduction of capital 
 punishments— -a goodly gallows being erected on the water- 
 side, about where Whitehall stairs are at present, a Httle to 
 the east of the Battery. Hard by also was erected another 
 gibbet of a very strange, uncouth, and luunatchable descrip- 
 tion, but on which the ingenious William Kieft valued himselt 
 not a Uttle, being a punishment entirely of his own invention. 
 
 It was for loftiaess of 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 was kept for an hour together danghng 
 £ind sprawling between heaven and earth — to the infinite en- 
 tertaioment and doubtless great edification of the multitude of 
 respectable citizens, who usually attend upon exhibitions of 
 the kind. 
 
 It is incredible how the little governor chuckled at beholding, 
 caitiff vagrants and sturdy beggars thus swinging by the crup- 
 per, and cutting antic gambols in the air. He had a thousand 
 pleasantries and mirthful conceits to utter upon these occa- 
 sions. He called them his dandle-hons — his Tvdld-f owl — his high- 
 flyers—his spread-eagles— his goshawks— his scarecrows, and 
 finally his galloivs-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 forefathei-s braced up their multifarious breeches, 
 and which has of late years been revived, and continues to be 
 worn at the present day.^ 
 
A mSTORT OF NEW-TORE. 
 
 157 
 
 Such were the admirable improvements of William Kieft in 
 criminal law— nor was his civil code less a matter of wonder- 
 ment ; and much does it grieve me that the limits of my work 
 will not suffer me to expatiate on both, with the prolixity they 
 deserve. Let it suffice then to say, that in a little while the 
 blessings of innimierable laws became notoriously apparent. 
 It w^as soon found necessary to have a certain class of men to 
 expound and confound them— divers pettifoggers accordingly 
 made their appearance, under whose protecting care the com- 
 munity was soon set together by the eai*s. 
 
 I would not here be thought to insinuate any thing deroga- 
 tory to the profession of the law, or to its dignified members. 
 Well am I aware, that we have in this ancient city innumer- 
 able worthy gentlemen who have embraced that honourable 
 order, not for the sordid love of filthy lucre, nor the selfish 
 cravings of renown, but through no other motives but a fer- 
 vent zeal for the correct administration of justice, and a gen- 
 erous and disinterested devotion to the interests of their fel- 
 low-citizens !— Sooner woidd I throw this trusty pen into the 
 flames, and cork up my ink-bottle for ever, than infringe even 
 for a nail's breadth upon the dignity of this truly benevolent 
 class of citizens— on the contrary, I allude solely to that crew 
 of caitiff scouts, Avho, in these latter days of evil, have become 
 60 numerous— who infest the skirts of the profession, as did 
 the recreant Cornish knights the honourable order of chivalry 
 —who, under its auspices, commit their depredations on so- 
 ciety—who thrive by quibbles, quirks, and chicanery, and, 
 hke vermin, swarm most where there is most corruption. 
 
 Nothing so soon awakens the malevolent passions, as the 
 facility of gratification. The comets of law would never be so 
 constantly crowded ^vith petty, vexatious, and disgraceful 
 suits, were it not for the herds of pettifogging lawyers that in- 
 fest them. These tamper with the passions of the lower and 
 more ignorant classes ; who, as if poverty were not a sufficient 
 misery in itself, are always ready to heighten it by the bitter- 
 ness of litigation. They are in law what quacks are in medi- 
 cine—exciting the malady for the purpose of profiting by the 
 cure, and retarding the cure for the purpose of augmenting 
 the fees. Where one destroys the constitution, the other im- 
 poverishes the purse ; and it may hkewise be observed, that a 
 patient, who has once been under the hands of a quack, is 
 ever after dabbUng in drugs, and poisoning himself with, in- 
 f aUible remedies ; and an ignorant man, who has once meddled 
 
158 
 
 A BISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 vath the law under the auspices of one of these empirics, is 
 for ever after embroiling himself with his neighbours, and im- 
 poverishing himself with successful law-suits. — My readers 
 will excuse this digression, into wliich I have been unwarily 
 betrayed; but I could not avoid giving a cool, unprejudiced 
 account of an abomination too prevalent in this excellent city, 
 and with the effects of which I am unluckily acquainted to my 
 cost, having been nearly ruined by a law-suit, which was un- 
 justly decided against me — and my ruin having been com- 
 pleted by another, which was decided in my favour. 
 
 It has been remarked by the observant writer of the Stuyve- 
 sant manuscript, that under the administration of Wilhehnus 
 Kieft the disposition of the inhabitants of New-Amsterdam 
 experienced an essential change, so that they became very 
 meddlesome and factious. The constant exacerbations of tem- 
 per into which the httle governor wa,s thrown by the maraud- 
 ings on his frontiers, and his unfortunate propensity to experi- 
 ment and innovation, occasioned him to keep his council in a 
 continual worry — and the council being, to the people at large, 
 what yest or leaven is to a batch, they threw the whole com- 
 munity into a ferment — and the people at large being to the 
 city what the mind is to the body, the mihappy commotions 
 they underwent operated most disastrously upon New- Amster- 
 dam — insomuch, that in certain of their paroxysms of conster- 
 nation and perplexity, they begat several of the most crooked, 
 distorted, and abominable sti^eets, lanes, and alleys, with which 
 this metropolis is disfigured. 
 
 But the worst of the matter was, that just about this time 
 the mob, since called the sovereign people, like Balaam's ass, 
 began to grow more enhghtened than its rider, and exhibited a 
 strange desire of governing itself. This was another effect of 
 the "universal acquirements" of William the Testy. In some 
 of his pestilent researches among the rubbish of antiquity, he 
 was struck with admiration at the institution of pubhc tables 
 among the Lacedaemonians, where they discussed topics of a 
 general and interesting nature— at the schools of the pliiloso- 
 phers, where they engaged in profound disputes upon pohtics 
 and morals — where gray -beards were taught the rudiments of 
 wisdom, and youths learned to become little men before they 
 were boys. " There is nothing," said the ingenious Eieft, shut- 
 ting up the book, "tbere is nothing more essential to the well- 
 management of a country, than education among the people : 
 the basis of a good government should be laid in the pubhc 
 
A JJISTOEF OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 159 
 
 mind-"— Now this was true enough, but it was ever the way- 
 ward fate of William the Testy, that when he thought right, he 
 was sure to go to work wrong. In the present instance, he 
 could scarcely eat or sleep until he had set on foot brawling 
 debating societies among the simple citizens of New- Amster- 
 dam. This was the one thing Avanting to complete his confu- 
 sion. The honest Dutch burghers, though in truth but little* 
 given to argument or wordy altercation, yet by dint of meet- 
 ing often together, fuddling themselves with strong drink, be- 
 clouding their brains with tobacco-smoke, and Hstening to the 
 harangues of some half-a-dozen oracles, soon became exceed- 
 ingly wise, and— as is always the case where the mob is pohti- 
 cally enhghtened— exceedingly discontented. They found out, 
 with wonderful quickness of discernment, the fearful error in 
 which they had indulged, in fancying themselves the happiest 
 people in creation— and were fortunately convinced, that, all 
 circumstances to the contrary notwithstanding, they were a 
 very unhappy, deluded, and consequently mined people. 
 
 In a short time, the quidnuncs of New- Amsterdam formed 
 themselves into sage juntos of political croakers, who daily met 
 together to groan over political affairs, and make themselves 
 miserable ; thronging to these unhappy assemblages, with the 
 same eagerness that zealots have in all ages abandoned the 
 milder and more peaceful paths of religion, to crowd to the 
 howling convocations of fanaticism. We are naturallj" prone 
 to discontent, and avaricious after imaginary causes of lamen- 
 tation—like lubberly monks, w^e belabour our own shoulders, 
 and seem to take a vast satisfaction in the music of our own 
 groans. Nor is this said for the sake of paradox ; daily experi- 
 ence shows the truth of these observations. It is almost im- 
 possible to elevate the spirits of a man groaning under ideal 
 calamities; but nothing is more easy than to render him 
 wretched, though on the pinnacle of felicity ; as it is a Hercu- 
 lean task to hoist a man to the top of a steeple, though the 
 merest child can topple him off thence. 
 
 In the sage assemblages I have noticed, the reader will at 
 once perceive the faint germs of those sapient convocations 
 called popular meetings, prevalent at our day. Thither re- 
 soi*ted all those idlers and "squires of low degree," who, like 
 rags, hang loose upon the back of society, and are ready to be 
 blown away by every wind of doctrine. Cobblers abandoned 
 their stalls, and hastened thither to give lessons on political 
 economy— blacksmiths left their handicraft and suffered their 
 
160 
 
 A IlISTOIir OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 own fires to go out, while they blew the bellows and stirred up 
 the fire of faction ; and even tailors, though but the shreds and 
 patches, the ninth parts of humanity, neglected their own 
 measures to attend to the measures of government.— Nothing 
 W9,s wanting but half-a-dozen ne wspapers and patriotic editors, 
 to have completed this public illumination, and to have thrown 
 the whole province in an uproar ! 
 
 I should not forget to mention, that these popular meetings 
 were held at a noted tavern; for houses of that description 
 have always been found the most fostering nurseries of poU- 
 tics ; abounding with those genial streams which give strength 
 and sustenance to faction. We are told that the ancient Ger- 
 mans had an admirable mode of treating any question of im- 
 portance ; they first dehberated upon it when drunk, and after- 
 wards reconsidered it when sober. The shrewder mobs of 
 America, who dislike having two minds upon a subject, both 
 determine and act upon it drunk ; by wliich means a world of 
 cold and tedious speculation is dispensed with — and as it is 
 universally allowed, that when a man is drunk he sees double, 
 it follows most conclusively that he sees twice as well as his 
 sober neighbours. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OF THE GREAT PIPE PLOT — AND OF THE DOLOROUS PERPLEXI- 
 TIES INTO WHICH WILLIAM THE TESTY WAS THROWN, BY REA- 
 SON OF HIS HAVING ENLIGHTENED THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 WiLHELiMUS KiEFT, as has already been made manifest, was 
 a great legislator upon a small scale. He was of an active, or 
 rather a busy mind ; that is to say, his was one of those small, 
 but brisk minds, which make up by bustle and constant mo- 
 tion for the want of great scope and power. He had, when 
 ^ quite a youngling, been impressed with the advice of Solomon, 
 
 Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways and be wise 
 in conformity to which, he had ever been of a restless, ant-like 
 turn, worrying hither and thither, busying himself about little 
 matters, with an air of great importance and anxiety— laying 
 up wisdom by the morsel, and often toiling and puffing at a 
 grain of mustard-seed, under the full conviction that he was 
 moving a mountain. 
 
A UISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 161 
 
 Thus we are told, that once upon a time, in one of his fits of 
 mental bustle, which he termed deliberation, he framed an un- 
 lucky lav/5 to prohibit the universal practice of smoking. This 
 he proved, by mathematical demonstration, to be, not merely 
 a heavy tax on the public pocket, but an incredible consumer 
 of time, a great encourager of idleness, and, of course, a deadly 
 bane to the prosperity and morals of the people. Ill-fated 
 Kieft! had he lived in this enlightened and libel-loving age, 
 and attempted to subvert the inestimable liberty of the press, 
 he could not have struck more closely on the sensibilities of the 
 million. 
 
 The populace were in as violent a turmoil as the constitutional 
 gravity of their deportment would permit- a mob of factious 
 citizens had even the hardihood to assemble before the gov- 
 ernor's house, where, setting themselves r'^solutely down, like 
 a besieging army before a fortress, they one and all fell to 
 smoking with a determined perseverance, that seemed as 
 though it were their intention to smoke him into terras. The 
 testy William issued out of his mansion like a wrathful spider, 
 and demanded to know the cause of this seditious assemblage, 
 and this lawless fumigation; to which these sturdy rioters 
 made no other reply, than to loU back phlegmaticaUy in their 
 seats, and pulf away with redoubled f ary ; whereby they raised 
 such a murky cloud, that the governor was fain to take refuge 
 in the interior of his castle. 
 
 The governor immediatelj^ perceived the object of this un- 
 usual tumult, and that it would be impossible to suppress a 
 practice, which, by long indulgence, had become a second 
 nature. And here I would obcerve, partly to explain why I 
 have so often made mention of this practice in my history, that 
 it was inseparably connected with all the affairs, both public 
 and private, of our revered ancestors. The pipe, in fact, was 
 never from the mouth of the true-born Nederlander. It was 
 his companion in sohtude, the relaxation of his gayer hours, 
 his counsellor, his consoler, his joy, his pride ; in a word, he 
 seemed to think and breathe through his pipe. 
 
 When William the Testy bethought himself of all these 
 matters, which he certainly did, although a Uttle too late, he 
 came to a compromise with the besieging multitude. The re- 
 sult was, that though he continued to permit the custom of 
 smoking, yet did he abohsh the fair long pipes which were 
 used in the days of Wouter Van TwUler, denoting ease, tran- 
 quiUity, and sobiiety of deportment ; and, in place thereof, did 
 
162 
 
 A I US roil Y OF JSEW-YOllK. 
 
 introduce little, captious, short pipes, two inches in length; 
 which, he observed, could be stuck in one comer of the mouth, 
 or twisted in the hat-band, and would not be in the way of 
 business. By this the multitude seemed somewhat appeased, 
 and dispersed to their habitations. Thus ended this alarming 
 insurrection, which was long known by the name of the pipe 
 plot, and which, it has been somewhat quaintly observed, did 
 end, like most other plots, seditions, and conspiracies, in mere 
 smoke. 
 
 But mark, oh reader ! the deplorable consequences that dia 
 afterwards result. The smoke of these villainous little pipes, 
 continually ascending in a cloud about the nose, penetrated 
 into, and befogged the cerebellum, dried up all the kindly 
 moisture of the brain, and rendered the people that used them 
 as vapourish and testy as their renowned Httle governor— nay, 
 what is more, from a goodly, burly race of folk, they became, 
 like our worthy Dutch farmers, who smoke short pipes, a 
 lantern-jawed, smoke-dried, leathern-hided race of men. 
 
 Nor was this all, for from hence may we date the rise of 
 parties in this province. Certain of the more wealthy and 
 important burghers adhering to the ancient fashion, formed a 
 kind of aristocracy, which went by the appellation of the Lo7ig 
 Pipes — while the lower orders, submitting to the innovation, 
 which they found to be more convenient in their handicraft 
 employments, and to leave them more liberty of action, were 
 branded with the plebeian name of Short Pipes. A third 
 party hkewise sprang up, differing from both the other, 
 headed by the descendants of the famous Eobert Chewit, the 
 companion of the great Hudson. These entirely discarded the 
 use of pipes, and took to chewing tobacco, and hence they 
 were called Quids. It is worthy of notice, that this last appel- 
 lation has since come to be invariably applied to those mongrel 
 or third parties, that will sometimes spring up between two 
 great contending parties, as a mule is produced between a 
 horse and an ass. 
 
 And here I would remark the great benefit of these party 
 distinctions, by which the people at large are saved the vast 
 trouble of thinking. Hesiod divides mankind into three 
 classes : those who think for themselves, those who let others 
 think for them, and those who will neither do one nor the 
 other. The second class, however, comprises the great mass 
 of society ; and hence is the origin of party, by which is meant 
 a large body of people, some few of whom think, and all the 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-ToRK. 
 
 163 
 
 rest talk. The former, who are called the leaders, marshal out 
 and discipline the latter, teaching them what they must ap- 
 prove — what they must hoot at — what they must say — whom 
 they must support— but, above all, whom they must hate— 
 for no man can be a right good partisian, unless he be a deter- 
 mined and thorough-going hater. 
 
 But when the sovereign people are thus properly broken to 
 the harness, yoked, curbed, and reined, it is delectable to see 
 with what docility and harmony they jog onward, through 
 mud and mire, at the ^vill of their drivers, dragging the dirt- 
 carts of faction at their heels. How many a patriotic member 
 of Congress have I seen, who would never have known how 
 to make up his mind on any question, and might have run a 
 great risk of voting right, by mere accident, had he not had 
 others to think for him, and a file-leader to vote after ! 
 
 Thus then the enlightened inhabitants of the Manhattoes, 
 being divided into parties, were enabled to organize dissension, 
 and to oppose and hate one another more accurately. And 
 now the great business of politics went bravely on — the 
 parties assembling in separate beer-houses, and smoking at each 
 other with implacable animosity, to the great support of the 
 state, and emolument of the tavern-keepers. Some, indeed, 
 who were more zealous than the rest, went farther, and began 
 ' to bespatter one another with numerous very hard names and 
 scandalous httle words, to be found in the Dutch language; 
 every partisan behoving religiously that he was serving his 
 country, when he traduced the character or impoverished the 
 pocket of a political advei-sary. But, however they might 
 differ between themselves, all parties agreed on one point, to 
 cavil at and condenm every measure of government, whether 
 right or wTong ; for as the governor was by his station inde- 
 pendent of their power, and was not elected by their choice, 
 and as he had not decided in favour of either faction, neither 
 of them was interested in his success, or in the prosperity of 
 the country, while under his administration. 
 
 " Unhappy William Kieft!" exclaims the sage writer of the 
 Stuyvesant manuscript — "doomed to contend with enemies 
 too knoAving to be entrapped, and to reign over a people too 
 wise to be governed !" All his expeditions against his enemies 
 were baffled and set at nought, and all his measures for the 
 public safety were cavilled at by the people. Did he propose 
 levying an efficient body of troops for internal defence— the 
 mob, that is to say those vagabond members of the community 
 
164 
 
 A UISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 who have nothing to lose, immediately took the alarm, voci- 
 ferated that their interests were in dsmger — that a standing 
 army was a legion of moths, preying on the pockets of society ; 
 a rod of iron m the hands of government ; and that a govern- 
 ment with a military force at its command would inevitably 
 swell into a despotism. Did he, as was but too commonly the 
 case, defer preparation imtil the moment of emergency, and 
 then hastily collect a handful of un.disciplined vagrants — the 
 measure was hooted at as feeble and inadequate, as trifling 
 with the public dignity and safety, and as lavishing the pubhc 
 fimds on impotent enterprises. Did he resort to the economic 
 measure of proclamation— he was laughed at by the Yankees ; 
 did he back it by non-intercourse— it was evaded and counter- 
 acted by his own subjects. Whichever way he turned himself, 
 he was beleaguered and distracted by petitions of ' ' numerous 
 and respectable meetings," consisting of some half-a-dozen 
 brawling pot-house politicians — all of which he read, and, what 
 is worse — all of which he attended to. The consequence was, 
 that by incessantly changing his measiu-es, he gave none of them 
 a fail* trial ; and by Hstening to the clamom's of the mob, and 
 endeavouring to do every thing, he, in sober truth, did nothing. 
 
 I would not have it supposed, however, that he took all these 
 memorials and interferences good-naturedly, for such an idea 
 would do injustice to his vaHant spirit; on the contraiy, he 
 never received a piece of advice in the whole course of his life, 
 without first getting into a passion with the giver. But I have 
 ever observed that your passionate Httle men, like smaU boats 
 with large sails, are the easiest upset or blown out of their 
 course; and this is demonstrated by Governor Kieft, who, 
 though in temperament as hot as an old radish, and with a 
 mind, the territory of which was subjected to perpetual wliirl- 
 wLnds and tornadoes, yet never failed to be carried away by 
 the last piece of advice that was blown into his ear. Lucky 
 was it for him that his power was not dependent upon the 
 greasy multitude, and that as yet the populace did not possess 
 the important privilege of nominating their chief magistrate ! 
 They, however, did their best to help along public affairs ; pes- 
 tering their governor incessantly, by goading him on with 
 harangues and petitions, and then thwarting his fiery spirit 
 with reproaches and memorials, like Sunday jocldes manag- 
 ing an unlucky devil of a hack-horse — so that Wilhelmus Kieft 
 may be said to have been kept either on a wony or a hand- 
 galloii throughout the whole of his administration. 
 
A HISTORY OJ^' NEW-YORK 
 
 165 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 CONTAINING DIVERS FEARFUL ACCOUNTS OF BORDER WARS, AND 
 THE FLAGRANT OUTRAGES OF THE MOSSTROOPERS OF CONNECTI- 
 CUT — WITH THE RISE OF THE GREAT AMPHYCTIONIC COUNCIL 
 OF THE EAST, AND THE DECLINE OF WILLIAM THE TESTY. 
 
 It was asserted by the wise men of ancient times, who were 
 intimately acquainted with these matters, that at the g?tte of 
 Jupiter's palace lay two huge tuns, the one filled mth bless- 
 ings, the other with misfortunes — and it verily seems as if the 
 latter had been completely overturned and left to deluge the 
 unlucky pro^^Lnce of Nieuw-Nederlandts. Among the many 
 internal and external causes of irritation, the incessant irrup- 
 tions of the Yankees upon his frontiers were contmually add- 
 ing fuel to the inflaramable temper of Wilham the Testy. 
 Niunerous accounts of these molestations may still be found 
 among the records of the times ; for the commanders on the 
 frontiers were especially careful to evince their vigilance and 
 zeal by striving who should send home the most frequent and 
 voluminous budgets of complaints — as your faithful servant is 
 eternally runnmg with complaints to the parlour, of the petty 
 squabbles and misdemeanours of the kitchen. 
 
 Far be it from me to insinuate, however, that our worthy 
 ancestors indulged in groundless alarms ; on the contrary, they 
 were daily suffering a repetition of cruel wrong's,* not one of 
 which but was a sufficient reason, according to the maxims of 
 national dignity and honour, for throwing the whole universe 
 into hostihty and confusion. 
 
 * From among a multitude of bitter grievances still on record, I select a few of 
 the most atrocious, and leave my readers to judge if our ancestors were not justifi- 
 able in getting into a very valiant passion on the occasion. 
 
 24 June, 1641. Some of Hartford have taken a hogg out of the vlact or com- 
 mon, and shut it up out of meer hate or other prejudice, causing it to starve for 
 hunger in the stye I" 
 
 "26 July. The foremencioned English did again drive the Companie's hoggs out 
 of the vlact of Sicojoke into Hartford; contending daily with reproaches, blows, 
 beating the people with all disgrace that they coidd imagine." 
 
 "May 20, 1642. The English of Hartford have violently cut loose a horse of the 
 honoured Companie's, that stood bound upon the common or vlact." 
 
 " May 9, 1643. The Companie's horses pastured upon the Companie's ground, 
 were driven away by them of Connecticott or Hartford, and the herdsmen lustily 
 beaten with hatchets and sticks." 
 
 " 16. Again they sold a young hogg belonging to the Compauie, which piggs had 
 pastured on the Companie's land."— ifaz. Coi. S^a^e Pa^ersl 
 
166 
 
 A UISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 Oh, ye powers 1 into what indignation did every one of these 
 outrages throw the philosophic William 1 letter after letter, 
 protest after protest, proclamation after proclamation, bad 
 Latin, worse English, and hideous Low Dutch were exhausted 
 in vain upon the inexorable Yankees ; and the four-and- twenty 
 letters of the alphabet, Avhich, excepting his champion, the 
 sturdy trumpeter Van Corlear, composed the only standing 
 a,rmy he had at liis command, were never off duty throughout 
 the whole of his administration. Nor was Antony the trum- 
 peter a whit behind his patron in fiery zeal ; but hke a faithful 
 champion of the public safety, on the arrival of every fresh 
 article of news, he was sure to sound his trumpet from the 
 ramparts, with most disastrous notes, tln^owing the people 
 into violent alarms, and disturbing their rest at all times and 
 seasons — ^which caused him to be held in very great regard, 
 the public pampering and rewarding him, as we do brawhng 
 editors for similar services. 
 
 I am well awai^e of the perils that environ me in this part of 
 my history. While raking with curious hands, but pious 
 heart, among the mouldering remains of former days, anxious 
 to draw therefrom the honey of wisdom, I may fare somewhat 
 hke that vahant worthy, Samson, who, in meddhng 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 tribe, 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 naU's 
 breadth of the honest truth, though I were sure the whole 
 edition of my work shouid be bought up and burnt by the 
 common hangman of Connecticut. And m sooth, now that 
 these testy gentlemen have drawn me out, I wUl make bold 
 to go farther and observe, that this is one of the grand pur- 
 poses for which we impartial historians are sent into the world 
 — to redress wrongs and render justice on the heads of the 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW TOBK. 
 
 167 
 
 guilty. So that, though a powerful nation may wrong its 
 neighbours with temporary impunity, yet sooner or later a 
 historian springs up who wreaks ample chastisement on it in 
 return. 
 
 Thus these mosstroopers of the east little thought, I'll war- 
 rant it, while they were harassing the inoffensive province of 
 Nieuw-Nederlandts, and driving its unhappy governor to his 
 wit's end, that a liistorian should ever arise and give them 
 their own with interest. Since, then, I am but performing my 
 bounden duty as a historian, in avenging the wrongs of our 
 revered ancestors, I shall make no further apology; and in- 
 deed, when it is considered that I have all these ancient bor- 
 derers 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. 
 
 To resume, then, the course of my history. Appearances to 
 the eastward began now to assume a more formidable aspect 
 than ever — for I would have you note that hitherto the province 
 had been chiefly molested by its immediate neighbours, the 
 people of Connecticut, particularly of Hartford ; which, if we 
 may judge from ancient chronicles, was the stronghold of 
 these sturdy mosstroopers, from whence they saUied forth, on 
 their daring incursions, carrying terror and devastation into 
 the barns, the hen-roosts, and pig-styes of our revered an- 
 cestors. 
 
 Albeit, about the year 1643, the people of the east country, 
 inhabiting the colonies of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New- 
 Plymouth, and New-Haven, gathered together into a mighty 
 conclave, and after buzzing and debating for many days, hke 
 a pohtical hive of bees in swarming time, at length settled 
 themselves into a formidable confederation, under the title of 
 the United Colonies of New -England. By this union, they 
 pledged themselves to stand by one another in all perils and 
 assaults, and to co-operate in all measures, offensive and de- 
 fensive, against the surrounding savages, among which were 
 doubtlessly included our honoured ancestors of the Manhattoes ; 
 and to give more strength and system to this confederation, a 
 general assembly or grand council was to be annually held, 
 composed of representatives from each of the provinces. 
 
 On receiving accounts of this combination, Wilhelmus Kieft 
 was struck with consternation, and, for the first time in his 
 whole life, forgot to bounce, at hearing an unwelcome piece of 
 intelligence— which a venerable historian of tte time observes, 
 
168 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 was especially noticed among the politicians of New- Amster- 
 dam. The truth was, on turning over in his mind all that he 
 had read at the Hague, about leagues and combinations, he 
 found that this was an exact imitation of the Amphyctionic 
 council, by which the states of Greece were enabled to attain 
 to such power and supremacy, and the very idea made his 
 heart to quake for the safety of his empii-e at the Manhattoes. 
 
 He strenuously insisted that the whole object of this confed- 
 eration was to drive the Nederlanders out of their fan* domains ; 
 and always flew into a great rage if any one presumed to 
 doubt the probability of his conjecture. Nor was he wholly 
 unwarranted in such a suspicion ; for at the very first aimual 
 meeting of the grand council, held at Boston, (which governor 
 Kieft denominated the Delphos of this truly classic league,) 
 strong representations were made against the Nederlanders, 
 forasmuch as that in their dealings with the Indians, they car- 
 ried on a traffic in "guns, powther, and shott— a trade damna- 
 ble and injurious to the colonists. " * Not but what certain of 
 the Connecticut traders did likewise dabble a little in this 
 "damnable traffic"— but then they always sold the Indians 
 such scurvy gims, that they burst at the first discharge — and 
 consequently hurt no one but these pagan savages. 
 
 The rise of this potent confederacy was a deathblow to the 
 glory of WilHam the Testy, for from that day forward, it was 
 remarked by many, he never held up his head, but appeared 
 quite crestfallen. His subsequent reign, therefore, affords but 
 scanty food for the historic pen — we find the grand council con- 
 tinually augmenting in power, and threatening to overwhelm 
 the province of Nieuw - Nederlandts ; while Wilhelmus Kieft 
 kept constantly fulminating proclamations and protests, like 
 a shrewd sea-captain firing off carronades and swivels, in order 
 to break and disperse a waterspout — but alas ! they had no more 
 effect than if they had been so many blank cartridges. 
 
 The last document on record of this learned, philosophic, but 
 unfortunate httle man, is a long letter to the council of the 
 Amphyctions, wherein, in the bitterness of his heart, he rails 
 at the people of New-Haven, or Red Hills, for their uncourte- 
 ous contempt of his protest, levelled at them for squatting 
 within the province of their High Mightinesses. From tliis 
 letter, which is a model of epistolary writing, abounding with 
 pithy apophthegms and classic figures, my limits will barely 
 
 HatUt, KJsii. istate Papers. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 169 
 
 allow me to extract the following recondite passage:— "Cer- 
 tainly when we heare the Inhabitants of New-Hartford com- 
 playninge of us, we seem to heare Esop's woKe complayninge 
 of the lamb, or the admonition of the younge man, who cryed 
 out to his mother, chidemg with her neighboures, ' Oh Mother 
 revile her, lest she first take up that practice against you.' 
 But being taught by precedent passages, we received such an 
 answer to our protest from the inhabitants of New-Haven as 
 we expected; the Eagle always despiseth the Beetle Fly; yet 
 notwithstanding we do undauntedly continue on our purpose 
 of pursuing our own right, by just arms and righteous means, 
 and doe hopemthout scruple to execute the express commands 
 of our superiors." * To show that this last sentence was not a 
 mere empty menace, he concluded his letter by intrepidly pro- 
 testing against the whole council, as a horde of squatters and 
 interlopers, inasmuch as they held their meetmg at New- 
 Haven, or the Red-Hills, which he clauned as bemg within 
 the province of the New-Netherlands. 
 
 Thus end the authenticated chronicles of the reign of Wil- 
 liam the Testy— for henceforth, in the troubles, the perplexi- 
 ties, and the confusion of the times, he seems to have been 
 totally overlooked, and to have slipped for ever through the 
 fingers of scrupulous history. Indeed, for some cause or other 
 which I cannot divine, there appears to have been a combina- 
 tion among historians to sink his very name into oblivion, in 
 consequence of which they have one and all forborne even to 
 speak of his exploits. This shows how important it is for great 
 men to cultivate the favour of the learned, if they are am- 
 bitious of honour and renown. "Insult not the dervise," said 
 a wise caliph to his son, "lest thou offend thine historian;" and 
 many a mighty man of the olden time, had he observed so ob- 
 vious a maxim, might have escaped divers cruel wipes of the 
 pen, which have been drawn across his character. 
 
 It has been a matter of deep concern to me, that such dark- 
 ness and obscurity should hang over the latter days of the 
 illustrious Kieft— for he was a mighty and great little man, 
 worthy of being utterly renowned, seeing that he was the first 
 potentate that introduced into this land the art of fighting by 
 proclamation, and defending a country by trumpeters and 
 windmills— an economic and humane mode of warfare, since 
 re\dved with great applause, and which promises, if it can ever 
 
 * Vide Haz. Col. State Papers. 
 
170 
 
 A ff IS TOBY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 be carried into full effect, to save great trouble and treasure, 
 and spare infinitely more bloodshed than either the discovery 
 of gunpowder, or the invention of torpedoes. 
 
 It is true, that certain of the early provincial poets, of whom 
 there were great numbers in the Nieuw-Nederlandts, taking ad- 
 vantage of the mysterious exit of William the Testy, have 
 fabled, that like Romulus, he was translated to the skies, and 
 forms a very fiery little star, somewhere on the left claw of 
 the crab ; while others, equally fanciful, declare that he had 
 experienced a fate similar to that of the good King Arthur; 
 who, we are assured by ancient bards, was carried away to 
 the delicious abodes of fairy land, where he still exists in pris- 
 tine worth and vigour, and will one day or another return to 
 restore the gallantry, the honour, and the immaculate probity 
 which prevailed in the glorious days of the Romid Table.* 
 
 All these, however, are but pleasing fantasies, the cobweb 
 visions of those di-eaming varlets, the poets, to which I would 
 not have my judicious reader attach any credibihty. Neither 
 am I disposed to yield any credit to the assertion of an ancient 
 and rather apocryphal historian, who alleges that the ingen- 
 ious Wilhelmus was annihilated by the blowing down of one of 
 his windmills — nor to that of a writer of later times, who 
 aflarms that he fell a victim to a philosophical experiment, 
 which he had for many yeai'^ been vainly striving to 
 accomplish ; having the misfortune to break liis neck from the 
 garret- window of the stadt-house, in an ineffectual attempt to 
 catch swallows, by sprinkling fresh salt upon their tails. 
 
 The most probable account, and to which I am inclined to 
 give my implicit faith, is contained in a very obscure tradition, 
 which declares, that what with the constant troubles on his 
 frontiers — the incessant schemings and projects going on in his 
 own pericranium — the memorials, petitions, remonstrances, 
 and sage pieces of advice from divers respectable meetings of 
 the sovereign people— together with the refractory disposition 
 of his council, who were sure to differ from him on every point, 
 and uniformly to be in the wrong— all these, I say, did eter- 
 
 * The old Welch bards believed that king Arthur was not dead, but carried awaie 
 by the fairies into some pleasant place, where he shold remainefor a time, and then 
 retume againe and reigne in as great authority as ever.—Hollinrjshed. 
 
 The Britons suppose that he shall come yet and conquere all Britaigne, for certes, 
 this is the prophicye of Merlyn — He say'd that his deth shall be doubteous; and 
 said soth, for men thereof yet have doubte and shullen for ever more— for men wyt 
 not whether that he ly veth or is dede.— De Lecic Chron. 
 
A UISTORY OF NEW- TORE. 
 
 171 
 
 nally operate to keep his mind in a kind of furnace heat, until 
 he at length became as completely burnt out as a Dutch family- 
 pipe which hcc passed through three generations of hard 
 smokers. In this manner did the choleric but magnanimous 
 William the Testy undergo a kind of animal combustion, 
 consuming away hke a farthing rush-hght— so that, when grim 
 Death finally snuffed him out, there was scarce left enough of 
 him to bui-y 1 
 
172 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 CONTAINING THE FIRST PART OF THE REIGN 01 
 PETER STUYVESANT, AND HIS TROUBLES WITH 
 THE AMPHYCTIONIC COUNCIL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WHICH THE DEATH ,0F A GREAT MAN IS SHOWN TO BE NO 
 VERY INCONSOLABLE MATTER OF SORROW — AND HOW PETER 
 STUYYESANT ACQUIRED A GREAT NAME FROM THE UNCOMMON 
 STRENGTH OF HIS HEAD. 
 
 To a profound philosopher, like myself, who am apt to see 
 clear through a subject, where the penetra.tion of ordinary 
 people extends but half-way, there is no fact more simple and 
 manifest, than that the death of a great man is a matter of 
 very httle importance. Much ac we may think of ourselves, 
 and much as we may excite the empty plaudits of the million, 
 it is certain that the greatest among us do actually fill but an 
 exceeding small space in the world ; and it is equally certain, 
 that even that small space is quickly supphed when we leave it 
 vacant. " Of what consequence is it," said Pliny, "that indi- 
 viduals appear or make their exit? the world is a theatre 
 whose scenes and actors are continually changing." Never 
 did philosopher speak more correctly ; and I only wonder that 
 so wise a remark could have existed so many ages, and 
 mankind not have laid it more to heart. Sage follows on in 
 the footsteps of sage ; one hero just steps out of his triumphal 
 car to make way for the hero who comes after him ; and of 
 the proudest monarch it is merely said, that — "he slept with 
 his fathers, and his successor reigned in his stead." 
 
 The world, to tell the private truth, cares but little for their 
 loss, and if left to itself would soon forget to grieve; and 
 though a nation has often been figuratively drowned in tears 
 on the death of a great man, yet it is ten chances to one if an 
 
A UISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 173 
 
 individual tear has been shed on the occasion, excepting from 
 the forlorn pen of some hungry author. It is the historian, the 
 biographer, and the poet, who have the whole burden of grief 
 to sustain; who— kind souls!— hke undertakers in England, 
 act the part of chief mourners— who inflate a nation with sighs 
 it never heaved, and deluge it with tears it never dreamt of 
 shedding. Thus, w^hile the patriotic author is weeping and 
 howling, in prose, m blank verse, and in rhyme, and collecting 
 the drops of public sorrow into his volume, as into a lachrymal 
 vase, it is more than probable his fellow-citizens are eating and 
 di-inking, fiddling and dancing, as utterly ignorant of the 
 bitter lamentations made m their name, as are those men of 
 straw, Jolm Doe and Richard Roe, of the plaintiffs for whom 
 they are generously pleased on divers occasions to become 
 sureties. 
 
 The most glorious and praiseworthy hero that ever desolated 
 nations, might have mouldered into obhvion among the rub- 
 bish of his own monument, did not some historian take him 
 into favour, and benevolently transmit his name to posterity 
 — and much as the vahant Wilham Kieft worried, and bus- 
 tled, and turmoiled, while he had the destinies of a whole 
 colony in his hand, I question seriously whether he will not be 
 obliged to tliis authentic liistory for all his future celebrity. 
 
 His exit occasioned no convulsion in the city of New- Amster- 
 dam or its vicinity: the earth trembled not, neither did any 
 stars shoot from their spheres— the heavens were not shrouded 
 in black, as poets would fain persuade us they have been on 
 the unfortunate death of a hero — the rocks (hard-hearted var- 
 lets !) melted not into tears, nor did the trees hang their heads 
 in silent sorrow ; and as to the sun, he laid abed the next night, 
 just as long, and showed as jolly a face when he arose, as he 
 ever did on the same day of the month in any year, either be- 
 fore or since. The good people of New-Amsterdam, one and 
 all, declared tliat he had been a very busy, active, bustling 
 Mttle governor; that he was " the father of his country" — that 
 he was "the noblest work of God" — that "he was a man, take 
 him for all in all, they ne'er should look upon his like again" — 
 together with sundry other civil and affectionate speeches, 
 that are regularly said on the death of all great men ; after 
 which they smoked their pipes, thought no more about him. 
 and Peter Stuyvesant succeeded to his station. 
 
 Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the renowned Wou- 
 ter Van Twiller, he was also the best of our ancient Dutch 
 
174 
 
 A UISTORT OF NEW TORK. 
 
 governors: Wouter having surpassed all who preceded him, 
 and Peter, or Piet, as he was sociably called by the old Dutch 
 burghers, who were ever prone to familiarize names, having 
 never been equalled by any successor. He was, in fact, the 
 very man fitted by Nature to retrieve the desperate fortunes 
 of her beloved province, had not the fates, those most potent 
 and unrelenting of all ancient spinsters, destined them to inex- 
 tricable confusion. 
 
 To say merely that he was a hero would be doing him great 
 injustice— he was in truth a combination of heroes — for he was 
 of a sturdy, rawbone make, like Ajax Telamon, with a pair of 
 round shoulders that Hercules would have given his hide for, 
 (meaning his Hon's hide,) when he undertook to ease old Atlas 
 of his load. He was, moreover, as Plutarch describes Corio- 
 lanus, not only terrible for the force of his arm, but hkewise 
 of his voice, which sounded as though it came out of a barrel ; 
 and like the seK-same warrior, he possessed a sovereign con- 
 tempt for the sovereign people, and an iron aspect, which was 
 enough of itself to make the very bowels of his adversaries 
 quake with terror and dismay. All this martial excellency of 
 appearance was inexpressibly heightened by an accidental ad- 
 vantage, with which I am surprised that neither Homer nor 
 Virgil have graced any of their heroes. This was nothing less 
 than a wooden leg, which was the only prize he had gained, in 
 bravely fighting the battles of his country, but of which he 
 was so proud, that he was often heard to declare he valued it 
 more than all his other hmbs put together ; indeed, so highly 
 did he esteem it, that he had it gallantly enchased and relieved 
 with silver devices, which caused it to be related in divers his- 
 tories and legends that he wore a silver leg.* 
 
 Like that choleric warrior, Achilles, he was somewhat sub- 
 ject to extempore bursts of passion, which were ofttimes rather 
 unpleasant to his favourites and attendants, whose perceptions 
 he was apt to quicken, after the manner of his illustrious imi- 
 tator, Peter the Great, by anointing their shoulders with his 
 walking-staff. 
 
 Though I cannot find that he had read "Plato, or Ai^stotle, 
 or Hobbes, or Bacon, or Algernon Sidney, or Tom Paine, yet 
 did he sometimes manifest a shrewdness and sagacity in his 
 measures, that one would hardly expect from a man who did 
 not know Greek, and had never studied the ancients. True it 
 
 * See the histories of Masters Josselyn and Blome. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 175 
 
 is, and I confess it with sorrow, that he had an unreasonable 
 aversion to experiments, and was fond of governing his pro- 
 vince after the simplest manner— but then he 'Contrived to 
 keep it in better order than did the erudite Kieft, though ho 
 had all the philosophers ancient and modern to assist and per- 
 plex him. I must likewise own that he made but very few 
 laws, but then again he took care that those few were rigidly 
 and impartially enforced— and I do not know but justice on 
 the whole was as well administered as if there had been vol- 
 mnes of sage acts and statutes yearly made, and daily neg- 
 lected and forgotten. 
 
 He was, in fact, the very reverse of his predecessors, being 
 neither tranquil and inert, like Walter the Doubter, nor rest- 
 less and fidgeting, hke WiUiam the Testy; but a man, or 
 rather a governor, of such uncommon activity and decision of 
 mind that he never sought or accepted the advice of others ; 
 depending confidently upon his single head, as did the heroes 
 of yore upon their single arms, to work his way through all 
 difficulties and dangers. To tell the simple truth, he wanted 
 no other requisite for a perfect statesman, than to think always 
 right, for no one can deny that he always acted as he thought ; 
 and if he wanted in correctness, he made up for it in persever- 
 ance — an excellent quality! since it is surely more dignified 
 for a ruler to be persevering and consistent in error, than 
 wavering and contradictory, in endeavouring to do what is 
 right. This much is certain — and it is a maxim worthy the at- 
 tion of all legislators, both great and small, who stand shaking 
 in the wind, without knowing which way to steer — a ruler who 
 acts according to his own will is sure of pleasing himself, while 
 he who seeks to satisfy the wishes and whims of others, runs 
 a great risk of pleasing nobody. The clock that stands still, 
 and points steadfastly in one direction, is certain of being right 
 twice in the four-and-twenty hours — ^while others may keep 
 going continually, and continually be going wrong. 
 
 Nor did tliis magnanimous virtue escape the discernment of 
 the good people of Nieuw-Nederlandts ; on the contrary, so high 
 an opinion had they of the independent mind and vigorous in- 
 tellect of their new governor, that they universally called him 
 Hardkoppig Piet, or Peter the Headstrong— a great compli 
 ment to his understanding ! 
 
 If from all that I have said thou dost not gather, worthy 
 reader, that Peter Stuyvesant was a tough, sturdy, valiant, 
 veather-beaten, mettlesome, obstinate, leathern-sided, Hon 
 
376 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TOUK. 
 
 hearted, generous-spirited old governor, either I have written 
 to but little purpose, or thou art very dull at drawing con- 
 clusions. 
 
 This most excellent governor, whose character I have thus 
 attempted feebly to delinea.te, commenced his administration 
 on the 29th of May, 1G47; a remarkably stormy day, distin- 
 guished in all the almanacs of the time which have come down 
 to us, by the name of Windy Fy^iday. As he was very jealous 
 of his personal and official dignity, he was inaugurated into 
 office with great ceremony; the goodly oaken chair of the 
 renowned Wouter Van Twiller being carefully preserved for 
 such occasions, in like manner as the chair and stone were 
 reverentially preserved at Schone, in Scotland, for the corona- 
 tion of the Caledonian monarchs. 
 
 I must not omit to mention, that the tempestuous state of 
 the elements, together with its being that unlucky day of the 
 week, termed "hanging day," did not fail to excite much 
 grave speculation and divers very reasonable apprehensions 
 among the more ancient and enlightened inhabitants; and 
 several of the sager sex, who were reputed to be not a little 
 skilled in the mysteries of astrology and fortune-telling, did 
 declare outright that they were omens of a disastrous admin- 
 istration — an event that came to be lamentably verified, and 
 which proves, beyond dispute, the wisdom of attending to 
 those preternatural intimations furnished by dreams and vis- 
 ions, the flying of birds, falling of stones, and cackling of geese, 
 on which the sages and rulers of ancient times placed such 
 reliance — or to those shootings of stars, echpses of the moon, 
 bowlings of dogs, and flarings of candles, carefully noted and 
 interpreted by the oracular sybils of our day; who, in my 
 bumble opinion, are the legitimate inheritors and preservers 
 of the ancient science of divination. This much is certain, 
 that governor Stuyvesant succeeded to the chair of state at a 
 turbulent period; when foes thronged and threatened from, 
 without; when anarchy and stiff-necked opposition reigned 
 rampant within; when the authority of their High Mighti- 
 nesses the Lords States General, though founded on the broad 
 Dutch bottom of unoffending imbecUity ; though supported by 
 economy, and defended by speeches, protests and proclama- 
 mations, yet tottered to its very centre ; and when the great city 
 of New- Amsterdam, though fortified by flag-staffs, trumpeters, , 
 and windmills, seemed hke some fair lady of easy virtue, to lie ' 
 open to attack, and ready to yield to the first invader. 
 
A UISIVUY OF NEW-TORK 
 
 177 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SHOWING HOW PETER THE HEADSTRONG BESTIRRED HDISELF 
 AMONG THE RATS AND COBWEBS, ON ENTERING INTO OFFICE — 
 AND THE PERILOUS MISTAKE HE WAS GUILTY OF, IN HIS DEAL- 
 INGS WITH THE AMPHYCTIONS. 
 
 The very first movements of the great Peter, on taking the 
 reigns of government, displayed the magnanimity of his mind, 
 though they occasioned not a httle marvel and uneasiness 
 among the people of the Manhattoes". Finding liimself con- 
 stantly interrupted by the opposition, and annoyed by the ad- 
 vice, of his privy council, the members of which had acquired 
 the unreasonable habit of thinking and speaking for themselves 
 during the preceding reign, he determined at once to put a 
 stop to such grievous abominations. Scarcely, therefore, had 
 he entered upon his authority, than he turned out of office aU 
 those meddlesome spirits that composed the factious cabinet of 
 WilHam the Testy; in place of whom he chose unto himself 
 counsellors from those fat, somniferous, respectable families, 
 that had flourished and slumbered under the easy reign of 
 Walter the Doubter. All these he caused to be furnished with 
 abundance of fair long pipes, and to be regaled v/ith frequent 
 corporation dinners, admonishing them to smoke, and eat, and 
 sleep for the good of the nation, while he took all the burden 
 of government upon his own shoulders — an arrangement to 
 which they gave hearty acquiescence. 
 
 Nor did he stop here, but made a hideous rout among the 
 Inventions and expedients of his learned predecessor — demol- 
 ishing his flagstaffs and windmills, which, like mighty giants, 
 guarded the ramparts of New- Amsterdam — pitching to the 
 duyvel whole batteries of quaker guns — rooting up his patent 
 gallows, where caitiff vagabonds were suspended by the waist- 
 band—and, in a word, turning topsy-turvy the whole philo- 
 sophic, economic, and windmill system of the immortal sage 
 of Saardem. 
 
 The honest folks of New- Amsterdam began to quake now for 
 the fate of their matchless champion, Antony the trumpeter, 
 who had acquired prodigious favour in the eyes of the women, 
 by means of his whiskers and his trumpet. Him did Peter the 
 Headstrong cause to be brought into his presence, and eyeing 
 
178 
 
 A BISTORT OF NEW- TORE. 
 
 him for a moment from head to foot, with a countenance that 
 would have appalled any thing else than a sounder of brass — 
 " Prythee, who and what art thou?" said he.—" Sire," rephed 
 the other, in no wise dismayed, — " for my name, it is Antony 
 Van Corlear — for my parentage, I am the son of my mother — 
 for my profession, I am champion and garrison of this gi-eat 
 city of New- Amsterdam." — "I doubt me much," said Peter 
 Stuyvesant, " that thou art some scurvy costardmonger knave 
 — how didst thou acquire this paramount honour and dignity?" 
 — "Marry, sir," rephed the other, "like many a great man 
 before me, simply by sounding my own trumpet. — " Ay, is it 
 so?" quoth the governor, "why, then, let us have a relish of 
 thy art." Whereupon he put his instrument to his hps, and 
 sounded a charge with such a tremendous outset, such a de- 
 lectable quaver, and such a triumphant cadence, that it was 
 enough to make your heart leap out of your mouth only to be 
 within a mile of it. Like as a war-worn charger, while sport- 
 ing in peaceful plains, if by chance he hear the strains of mar- 
 tial music, pricks up his ears, and snorts and paws and kindles 
 at the noise, so did the heroic soul of the mighty Peter joy to 
 hear the clangour of the trumpet ; for of him might truly be 
 said what was recorded of the renowned St. George of England, 
 "there was nothing in all the world that more rejoiced his 
 heart, than to hear the pleasant sound of war, and see the sol- 
 diers brandish forth their steeled weapons." Casting his eyes 
 more kindly, therefore, upon the sturdy Van Corlear, and find- 
 ing him to be a jolly, fat httle man, shrewd in his discourse, 
 yet of great discretion and immeasurable wind, he straightway 
 conceived a vast kindness for him, and discharging him from 
 the troublesome duty of garrisoning, defending, and alarming 
 the city, ever after retained him about his person, as his chief 
 favourite, confidential envoy, and trusty 'squire. Instead of 
 disturbing the city with disastrous notes, he was instructed to 
 play so as to delight the governor while at his repasts, as did 
 the minstrels of yore in the days of glorious chivalry — and on 
 all public occasions to rejoice the ears of the people with war- 
 like melody — thereby keeping ahve a noble and martial spirit. 
 
 Many other alterations and reformations, both for the better 
 and for the worse, did the governor make, of which my time 
 will not serve me to record the particulars ; suffice it to say, 
 he soon contrived to make the province feel that he was its 
 master, and treated the sovereign people with such tyrannical 
 rigour, that they were all fain to hold their tongues, stay at 
 
A UISTOllY OF M'AV YOUR. 
 
 179 
 
 home, and attend to their business ; insomuch that party feuds 
 and distinctions were almost forgotten, and many thriving 
 keepers of taverns and dramshops were utterly ruined for 
 want of business. 
 
 Indeed, the critical state of public affairs at this time de 
 manded the utmost vigilance and promptitude. The formida- 
 ble council of the Amphyctions, which had caused so much 
 tribulation to the unfortunate Kieft, still continued augment- 
 ing its forces, and threatened to Hnk within its union all the 
 mighty principalities and powers of the east. In the very 
 year following the inauguration of Governor Stuyvesant, a 
 grand deputation departed from the city of Providence (fa- 
 mous for its dusty streets and beauteous women,) in behalf 
 of the puissant plantation of Rhode Island, jjraying to be ad- 
 mitted into the league. 
 
 The following mention is made of this application, in certain 
 records of that assemblage of worthies, which are still extant.* 
 
 "Mr. WiU Cottington and captain Partridg of Rhoode-Iland 
 presented this insewing request to the commissioners in 
 wrighting — 
 
 "Our request and motion is in behalf e of Rhoode-Iland, that 
 wee the Ilanders of Rhoode-Iland may be rescauied into com- 
 bination with all the united colony es of New-England in a 
 firme and perpetuall league of friendship and amity of ofencc 
 and defence, mutuaU advice and succor upon all just occasions 
 for our mutuall safety and weUfaire, &c. 
 
 Wm Cottington, 
 Alicxsander Partridg." 
 
 There is certainly something in the very physiognomy of 
 this document that might well inspire apprehension. Tho 
 name of Alexander, however misspelt, has been warlike in 
 every age ; and though* its fierceness is in some measure soft- 
 ened by being coupled with the gentle cognomen of Partridge 
 etiU, like the colour of scarlet^ it bears an exceeding great re 
 semblance to the sound of a trumpet. From the style of the 
 letter, moreover, and the soldier-like ignorance of orthogi'aphy 
 displayed by the noble captain Alicxsander PiU-tridg in spell- 
 ing his own name, we may picture to ourselves this mighty 
 man of Rhodes, strong in arms, potent in the field, and as 
 great a scholar as though he had been educated among that 
 
 * Haz. Col. state Papers. 
 
180 
 
 A UISTORT OF NEW- YORE. 
 
 learned people of Thrace, who, Aristotle assures us, could not 
 count beyond the number four. 
 
 But, whatever might be the threatening aspect of this 
 famous confederation, Peter Stuyvesant was not a man to be 
 kept in a state of incertitude and vague apprehension; he 
 Hked nothing so much as to meet danger face to face, and 
 take it by the beard. Determined, therefore, to put an end 
 to all these petty maraudings on the borders, he wrote two or 
 three categorical letters to the grand council ; w^hich, though 
 neither couched in bad Latin, nor yet graced by rhetorical 
 tropes about wols^es and lambs, and beetle-flies, yet had more 
 effect than all the elaborate epistles, protests, and proclama- 
 tions of his learned predecessor put together. In consequence 
 of his urgent propositions, the great confederacy of the east 
 agreed to enter into a final adjustment of grievances and set- 
 tlement of boundaries, to the end that a perpetual and happy 
 peace might take place between the two powers. For tliis 
 purpose. Governor Stuyvesant deputed two ambassadors to 
 negotiate with connnissioners from the grand council of the 
 league; and a treaty was solemnly concluded at Hartford. 
 On receiving intelligence of this event, the whole community 
 was in an uproar of exultation. The trumpet of the sturdy 
 Van Corlear sounded ail day with joyful clangour from the 
 ramparts of Fort Amsterdam, and at night the city was mag- 
 nificently illuminated with two hundred and fifty taliow can- 
 dles ; besides a barrel of tar, wliich was burnt before the gov- 
 ernor's house, on the cheering aspect of public affairs. 
 
 And now my worthy reader is, doubtless, like the great and 
 good Peter, congratulating himself with the idea, that his feel- 
 ings will no longer be molested by afflicting details of stolen 
 horses, broken heads, impounded hogs, and all the other cata- 
 logue of heartrending cruelties that disgraced these border 
 wars. But if he should indulge in such expectations, it is a 
 proof that he is but little versed m the paradoxical ways of 
 cabinets; to convince him of which, I solicit his serious atten- 
 tion to my next chapter, wherein I will show that Peter Stuy- 
 vesant has already committed a great error in politics; and by 
 effecting a peace, has materially hazarded the tranquiUity of 
 the province. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 181 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONTAINING DIVERS SPECULATIONS ON WAR AND NEGOTIATIONS- 
 SHOWING THAT A TREATY OF PEACE IS A GREAT NATIONAJ4 
 EVIL. 
 
 It was the opinion of that poetical philosopher, Lucretius, 
 that war was the original state of man, whom he described as 
 being primitively a savage beast of prey, engaged in a con- 
 stant state of hostility with his own species ; and that this fe- 
 rocious spirit was tamed and meliorated by society. The same 
 opinion has been advocated by Hobbes ; * nor have there been 
 wanting many other philosophers, to admit and defend it. 
 
 For my part, though prodigiously fond of these valuable 
 speculations, so comphmentary to human nature, yet, in this 
 instance, I am inclined to take the proposition by halves, be- 
 lieving, with Horace, t that though war may have been origin- 
 ally the favourite amusement and industrious employment of 
 our progenitors, yet, hke many other excellent habits, so far 
 from being mehorated, it has been cultivated and confirmed 
 by refinement and civihzation, and increases in exact propor- 
 tion as we approach towards that state of perfection which is 
 the ne plus ultra of modern philosophy. 
 
 The first conflict between man and mfin was the mere exer- 
 tion of physical force, unaided by auxiliary weapons— his arm 
 was his buckler, his fist was his mace, and a broken head 
 the catastrophe of his encounters. The battle of unassisted 
 strength was succeeded by the more rugged one of stones and 
 clubs, and war assumed a sanguinary aspect. As man ad- 
 vanced in refinement, as his faculties expanded, and his sen- 
 sibilities became more exquisite, he grew rapidly more ingeni- 
 ous and experienced in the art of murdering his feUow-beings. 
 He invented a thousand devices to defend and to assault — the 
 helmet, the cuu-ass, and the buckler, the sword, the dart, and 
 the javelin, prepared him to elude the wound, as well as to 
 lanch the blow. Still urging on, in the brilliant and philan- 
 
 * Hobbes' Leviathan. Part i. chap. 13. 
 
 t Quum prorepserunt primis anirualia terris, 
 Mutuum ac turpe pecus, glandem atque cubilia propter, 
 Uoguibus et pugnis, dein fustibus. atqne ita porro 
 Pugnabant arrais, quae post fabricaverat usus.— Hor. Sat. 1. i. s. 3. 
 
182 
 
 A HISTORY OF NKW-TORK. 
 
 thropic career of invention, he enlarges and heightens his 
 powers of defence and injury — the Aries, the Scorpio, the 
 Bahsta, and the Catapulta, give a horror and subhniity to 
 war, and magnify its glory by increasing its desolation. Still 
 insatiable, though armed with machinery that seemed to reach 
 the hmits of destructive invention, and to yield a power of 
 injury commensurate even mth the desires of revenge — still 
 deeper resea^rches must be made in the diabohcal arcana. 
 With furious zeal he dives into the bowels of the earth ; he 
 toils midst poisonous minerals and deadly salts — the sublime 
 discovery of gimpowder blazes upon the world — and finally, 
 the dreadful art of fighting by proclamation seems to endow 
 the demon of war with ubiquity and oimiipotence ! 
 
 This, indeed, is grand!— this, indeed, marks the powers of 
 mind, and bespeaks that divine endowment of reason which 
 distinguishes us from the animals, our inferiors. The un- 
 enhghtened brutes content themselves with the native force 
 w^hich Providence has assigned them. The angry bull butts 
 with his horns, as did his progenitors before him — the hon, the 
 leopard, and the tiger seek only with their talons and their 
 fangs to gratify their sanguinary fury; and even the subtle 
 serpent darts the same venom and uses the same wiles as 
 did his sire before the flood. Man alone, blessed with the 
 inventive mind, goes on from discovery to discovery — en- 
 larges and multiplies his powers of destruction ; arrogates the 
 tremendous weapons of Deity itself, and tasks creation to 
 assist liim in murdering his brother worm ! 
 
 In proportion as the art of war has increased in improve- 
 ment, has the art of preserving peace advanced in equal ratio ; 
 and, as we have discovered, in this age of wonders and inven- 
 tions, that a proclamation is the most formidable engine in 
 war, so have we discovered the no less ingenious mode of 
 maintaining peace by perpetual negotiations. 
 
 A treaty, or, to speak more correctly, a negotiation, there- 
 fore, according to the acceptation of experienced statesmen, 
 learned in th-ese matters, is no longer an attempt to accommo- 
 date ditferences, to ascertain rights, an 1 to establish an equi- 
 table exchange of kind offices ; but a contest of skill between 
 two powers, which shall overreach and take in the other. It 
 is a cunning endeavour to obtain, by peaceable manoeuvre and 
 the chicanery of cabinets, those advantages which a nation 
 would otherwise have wrested by force of arms : in the same 
 mamier that a conscientious highwayman reforms and becomes 
 
A lllSTOllY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 183 
 
 an excellent and praiseworthy citizen, contenting himself with 
 cheating his neighbour out of that property he would formerly 
 have seized with open violence. 
 
 In fact, the only time when two nations can be said to be in 
 a state of perfect amity, is when a negotiation is open and a 
 treaty pending. Then, as ttere are no stipulations entered 
 into, no bonds to restrain the will, no specific limits to awaken 
 the captious jealousy of right implanted in our nature, as each 
 party has some advantage to hope and exi^ect from the other, 
 then it is that the two nations are so gracious and fi-iendly to 
 each other ; their ministers professing the highest mutual re- 
 gard, exchanging billetsdoux, making fine speeches, and in- 
 dulging in all those diplomatic flirtations, coquetries, and fond- 
 lings, that do so marvellously tickle the good-humour of the 
 respective nations. Thus it may paradoxically be said, that 
 there is never so good an understanding between two nations as 
 when there is a httle misunderstanding — and that so long as 
 there are k.o terms, they are on the best terms in the world. 
 
 I do not \fy any means pretend to claim the merit of having 
 made the above political discovery. It has, in fact, long been 
 secretly acted upon by certain enlightened cabinets, and is, 
 together with divers other notable theories, privately copied 
 Dut of the common-place book of an illustrious gentleman, who 
 has been member of Congress and enjoyed the unlimited con- 
 fidence of heads of departments. To this principle may be 
 asci'ibed the wonderful ingenuity that has been shown of late 
 years in protracting and interrupting negotiations. Hence the 
 cunning measure of appointing as ambassador some political 
 pettifogger skilled in delays, sophisms and misapprehensions, 
 and dexterous in the art of baMng argiiment — or some blimder- 
 ing statesman, whose errors and misconstructions may be a 
 ]:)lea for i-efusing to ratify his engagements. And lienr*e, too, 
 that most notable expedient, so popular with our government, 
 of sending out a brace of ambassadors ; who, having each an in- 
 di^adual will to consult, character to establish, and interest to 
 promote, you may as well look for unanimity and concord be- 
 tween two lovers with one mistress, two dogs with one bone, 
 or two naked rogues with one pair of breeches. This disagree- 
 ment, therefore, is continually breeding delays and impedi- 
 ments, in consequence of wliich the negotiation goes on swim- 
 mingly — insomuch as there is no prospect of its ever coming to 
 a close. Notliing is lost by these delays and obstacles but 
 time, and in a negotiation, according to the theory I have 
 
184 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 exposed, all time lost is in reality so much time gained — Avith 
 what delightful paradoxes does modem political economy 
 abound ! 
 
 Now all that I have here advanced is so notoriously true, that 
 I almost blush to take up the time of my readers with treating 
 of matters which must many a time have stared them in the 
 face. But the proposition to which I would most earnestly call 
 their attention, is this — that though a negotiation be the most 
 harmonizing of all national transactions, yet a treaty of peace 
 is a great political evil, and one of the most fruitful sources of 
 war. 
 
 I have rarely seen an instance of any special contract be- 
 tween individuals, that did not produce jealousies, bickerings, 
 and often downright ruptures between them ; nor did I ever 
 know of a treaty between two nations, that did not occasion 
 continual misunderstandings. How many worthy country 
 neighbours have I known, who, after hving in peace and good- 
 fellowship for years, have been thrown into a state of distrust, 
 carolling, and animosity, by some ill-starred agi*eement about 
 fences, runs of water, and stray cattle. And how many well- 
 meaning nations, who would otherwise have remained in the 
 most amicable disposition towards each other, have been 
 brought to sword's points about the infringement or miscon- 
 struction of some treaty, which in an evil hour they had con- 
 cluded by way of makmg their amity more sm-e ! 
 
 Treaties, at best, are but comphed with so long as interest 
 requires theii' fulfilment ; consequently, they are virtually bind- 
 ing on the weaker party only, or, in plain truth, they are not 
 binding at all. No nation will wantonly go to war with another, 
 if it has nothing to gain thereby, and, therefore, needs no treaty 
 to restrain it from violence ; and if it have any thing to gain, I 
 much question, from what I have \vitnessed of the righteous 
 conduct of nations, whether any treaty could be made so 
 strong that it could not thrust the sword tlu*ough— nay, I 
 would bold, ten to one, the treaty itseK would be the very 
 source to which resort would be had, to find a pretext for ho. 
 tilities. 
 
 Thus, therefore, I conclude— that though it is the best of all 
 ]X)hcies for a nation to keep up a constant negotiation with its 
 neighbours, yet it is the sunnnit of folly for it ever to be be- 
 guiled into a treaty ; for then comes on the non-fulfilment and 
 infraction, then remonstrance, then altercation, then retalia- 
 tion, then recrimination, and finally open war. In a word. 
 
A in STORY OF MiJW-YOUK. 
 
 185 
 
 negotiation is like courtship, a time of sweet words, gallant 
 speeches, soft looks, and endearing caresses ; but the marriage 
 ceremony is the signal for hostihties. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW PETER STUYVESANT WAS GREATLY BELIED BY HIS ADVER- 
 SARIES, THE MOSSTROOPERS— AND HIS CONDUCT THEREUPON. 
 
 If my pains-taking reader be not somewhat perplexed, in 
 the course of the ratiocination of Iny last chapter, he will 
 doubtless at one glance perceive that the great Peter, in con- 
 cluding a treaty with his eastern neighbours, was guilty of a 
 lamentable error and heterodoxy in pohtics. To this unlucky 
 agreement may justly be ascribed a world of httle infringe- 
 ments, altercations, negotiations, and bickerings, which after- 
 wards took place between the irreproachaDle Stuyvesant, and 
 the evil-disposed council of Amphyctions. All these did not a 
 Httle disturb the constitutional serenity of the good burghers 
 of Manna-hata ; but in sooth they were so very pitiful in their 
 nature and effects, that a grave historian, who grudges the 
 time spent in any thing less than recording the fall of empires, 
 and the revolution of worlds, would think them unworthy to 
 be inscribed on his sacred page. 
 
 The reader is, therefore, to take it for granted, though I 
 scorn to waste in the detail that time which my furrowed 
 brow and trembhng hand inform rde is invaluable, that aU 
 the while the great Peter was occupied in those tremendous 
 and bloody contests that I shall shortly rehearse, there was a 
 continued series of little, dirty, snivelling skirmishes, scour- 
 ings, broils, and maraudings, made on the eastern frontiei-s, 
 by the mosstroopers of Connecticut. But, like that mirror of 
 chivalry, the sage and valorous Don Quixote, I leave these 
 petty contests for some future Sancho Panza of a historian, 
 while I reserve my prowess and my pen for achievements of 
 higher dignity. 
 
 Now did the great Peter conclude, that his labours had come 
 to a close in the east, and that he had notliing to do but apply 
 himself to the internal prosperity of his beloved Manhattoes. 
 Though a man of great modesty, he could not help boasting 
 tliat he had at lengtli shut the temple of Janus, and that, were 
 
186 
 
 A 111 STORY OF NEW-TOHK. 
 
 all rulers like a certain person who should he nameless, it 
 would never be opened again. But the exultation of the 
 worthy governor was put to a speedy check ; for scarce was 
 the treatj^ concluded, and hardly was the ink dried on the 
 paper, before the crafty and discourteous council of the league 
 sought a new pretence for re-illuming the flames of discord. 
 
 It seems to be the nature of confederacies, republics, and 
 such like powers, that want the true masculine character, to 
 indulge exceedingly in certain feminine panics and suspicions. 
 Like some good lady of deHcate and sickly virtue, who is in 
 constant dread of having her vestal purity contaminated or 
 seduced, and who, if a man do but take her by the hand, or 
 look her in the face, is ready to cry out, rape ! and ruin !— so 
 these squeamish governments are perpetually on the alarm for 
 the virtue of the country ; every manly measure is a ^dolati* n\ 
 of the constitution — every monarchy or other masculine gov - 
 ernment around them is laying snares for theii* seduction ; an^l 
 they are for ever detecting infernal plots, by which they were 
 to be betrayed, dishonoured, and "brought upon the town." 
 
 If any proof were wanting of the truth of these opinions, I 
 would mstance the conduct of a certain repubhc of our day; 
 who, good dame, has already withstood so many plots and 
 conspiracies against her virtue, and has so often come near 
 being made "no better than she should be." I would notice 
 her constant jealousies of poor old England, who, by her own 
 account, has been incessantly trying to sap her honour; 
 though, from my soul, I never could beheve the honest old 
 gentleman meant her any rudeness. Whereas, on the con- 
 trary, I think I have several times caught her squeezing hands 
 and indulging in certain amorous oglings with that sad fellow 
 Buonaparte — who all the world knows to be a great despoiler 
 of national virtue, to have ruined all the empires in his neigh- 
 bourhood, and to have debauched every repubhc that came in 
 his way — but so it is, those rakes seem always to gain singular 
 favour Avith the ladies. 
 
 But I crave pardon of my reader for thus wandering, ai 
 will endeavour in some measure to apply the foregoing ic- 
 raarks ; for in the year 1G51, we are told, the great conf ederac }' 
 of the east accused the immaculate Peter — the soul of honour 
 and heai't of steel — that by divers gifts and promises he had 
 been secretly endeavourmg to instigate the Narrohigansci 
 (or Narraganset) Mohaque, and Pequot Indians, to surprise 
 and massacre the Yankee settlements. " For," as the council 
 
A UlSTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 187 
 
 slanderously observed, ''the Indians round about for divers 
 hundred miles cercute, seeme to have drunke deep of an in- 
 toxicating cupp, att or from the Manhatoes against the Eng- 
 lish, whoe have sought their good, both in bodily and spirituall 
 respects." 
 
 History does not make mention how the great council of the 
 Amphyctions came by this precious plot; whether it was 
 honestly bought at a fair market price, or discovered by sheer- 
 good fortune— it is certain, however, that they examined 
 divers Indians, who all swore to the fact as sturdily as though 
 they had been so many Christian troopers; and to be more 
 sure of their veracity, the sage council previously made every 
 mother's son of them devoutly drunk, remembering an old 
 and trite proverb, wliich it is not necessary for me to repeat. 
 
 Though descended from a family which suffered much in- 
 jury from the losel Yankees of those times— my great-grand- 
 father having had a yoke of oxen and his best pacer stolen, 
 and having received a pair of black eyes and a bloody nose in 
 one of these border wars ; and my grandfather, when a very 
 little boy tending pigs, having been kidnapped and severely 
 flogged by a long-sided Connecticut schoolmaster — yet I should 
 have passed over all these wrongs with forgiveness and obh- 
 vion — I could even have suffered them to have broken Evert 
 Ducking's head, to have kicked the doughty Jacobus Van 
 Curlet and his ragged regiment out of doors, carried every hog 
 iato captivity, and depopulated every hen-roost on the face of 
 the earth, with perfect impunity. — But this wanton attack 
 upon one of the most gallant and irreproachable heroes of 
 modern tunes is too much even for me to digest, and has over- 
 set, with a single puff, the xjatience of the historian, and the 
 forbearance of the Dutchman. 
 
 Oh, reader, it was false! — I swear to thee, it was false! if 
 thou hast any respect to my word— if the undeviating charac- 
 ter for veracity, which I have endeavoured to maintain 
 throughout this work, has its due weight with thee, thou vvdlt 
 not give thy faith to this tale of slander; for I pledge my 
 honour and my immortal fame to thee, that the gallant Peter 
 Stuyvesant was not onJj^ innocent of this foul conspiracy, but 
 would have suffered his right arm, or even his wooden leg, to 
 consume with slow and everlasting flames, rather than at- 
 tempt to destroy his enemies in any other way than open, 
 generous warfare— beshrew those caitiff scouts, that conspired 
 to sully his honest name by such an imputation. 
 
188 
 
 A Ill^TOKY OF AEW-YOllK. 
 
 Peter Stuy vesant, though he perhaps had never heard of a 
 knightrcrrant, yet had he as true a heart of chivalry as ever 
 beat at the round table of King Arthur. There was a spirit of 
 native gallantry, a noble and generous hardihood diffused 
 through his rugged manners, which altogether gave unques- 
 tionable tokens of a heroic mind. He was, in truth, a hero of 
 chivalry, struck off by the hand of Nature at a single heat, 
 and though she had taken no further care to polish and refine 
 her workmanship, he stood forth a miracle of her skill. 
 
 But, not to be figiu-ative, (a fault in historic writing which I 
 particularly eschew,) the great Peter possessed, in an eminent 
 degree, the seven renowned and noble virtues of knighthood, 
 which, as he had never consulted authors in the disciplining 
 and cultivating of his mind, I verily beheve must have been 
 implanted in the corner of his heart by dame Nature herself— 
 where they flourished among his hardy quahties like so many 
 sweet wild flovN^ers, shooting forth and tlirivmg with redundant 
 luxuriance among stubborn rocks. Such was the mind of 
 Peter the Headstrong, and if my admiration for it has, on this 
 occasion, transported my style beyond the sober gravity 
 which becomes the laborious scribe of historic events, I can 
 plead as an apology, that though a httle gray -headed Dutch- 
 man arrived almost at the bottom of the down-hill of life, I 
 still retain some portion of that celestial fire w^liich sparkles in 
 the eye of youth, when contemplating the virtues and achieve- 
 ments of ancient worthies. Blessed, thri^^e and nine times 
 blessed be the good St. Nicholas— that I have escaped the influ- 
 ence of that cliilling apathy, which too often freezes the sym- 
 pathies of age ; which, like a churlish spirit, sits at the portals 
 of the heart, repulsing every genial sentiment, and paralyzing 
 every spontaneous glow of enthusiasm. 
 
 No sooner, then, did tliis scoundrel imputation on his honour 
 reach the ear of Peter Stuyvesant, than he proceeded in a man- 
 ner which would have redounded to liis credit, even though ke 
 had studied for years in the hbrary of Don Quixote himself. 
 He immediately despatched his vahant trumpeter and squire, 
 Antony Van Corlear, with orders to ride night and day, as 
 herald, to the Amphyctionic council, reproaching them, in 
 terms of noble indignation, for giving ear to the slanders of 
 heathen infidels, against the character of a Christian, a gentle- 
 man, and a soldier — and declaring, that as to the treacherous 
 and bloody plot alleged against him, whoever affirmed it to be 
 true, lied in his teeth ! — to prove which, he defied the president 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 189 
 
 of the council and all his compeers, or, if they pleased, theii' 
 puissant champion, captain Alicxsander Partridg, that mighty 
 man of Eliodes, to meet him in single combat, where he 
 would trust the vindication of his innocence to the prowess 
 of his arm. 
 
 Tills challenge being delivered with due ceremony, Antony 
 Van Corlear sounded a trmnpot of defiance before the whole 
 council, ending witii a most horrific and nasal twang, full in 
 the face of Captain Partridg, who almost jumped out of his 
 skin in an ecstasy of astonishment at the noise. This done, he 
 moimted a tall Flanders mare, wliich he always rode, and 
 trotted merrily towards the Manhattoes — passing through 
 Hartford, and Piquag, and Middletown, and all the other bor- 
 der towns — twanging his trumpet hke a very devil, so that the 
 sweet valleys and baulks of the Connecticut resounded with the 
 warlike melody — and stopping occasionally to eat pmnpkin 
 pies, dance at country frolics, and bundle with the beauteous 
 lasses 01 those parts— whom he rejoiced exceedingly with his 
 soul-stirring instrument. 
 
 But the grand council, being composed of considerate men, 
 had no idea of running a tilting with such a fiery hero as the 
 hardy Peter — on the contrary, they sent him an answer 
 couched in the meekest, the most mild and provoking terms, 
 in which they assured him that his guilt was proved to their 
 perfect satisfaction, by the testimony of divers sober and 
 respectable Indians, and concluding with this truly amia- 
 ble paragraph — " For youre confidant denialls of the Barbarous 
 plott charged will waigh little in balance against such evi- 
 dence, soe that we must still require and seeke due satisfaction 
 and cecurite, so we rest. Sir, 
 
 Youres in wayes of Righteousness, &c." 
 
 I am awai'e that the above transaction has been differently 
 recorded by certain historians of the east, and elsewhere ; who 
 seem to have inherited the bitter enmity of their ancestors to 
 the bravo Peter— and much good may their inheritance do 
 them. These declare, that Peter Stuyvesant requested to have 
 the charges against him inquired into, by commissioners to be 
 appointed for the purj cse; and yet, that when such commis- 
 sioners were appointed, he refused to submit to their examina- 
 tion. In this artful account, there is but the semblance of 
 truth — he did, indeed, most gallantly offer, when that he found 
 a deaf ear was turned to his challenge, to submit his conduct to 
 the rigorous inspection of a court of honour — but then he 
 
190 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 expected to find it an august tribunal, composed of courteous 
 gentlemen, the governors and nobility of the confederate plan- 
 tations, and of the province of New-Netherlands; where he 
 might be tried by his peers, in a manner worthy of his rank 
 and dignity — whereas, let me perish, if they did not send to 
 the Manhattoes two lean-sided hungry pettifoggers, mounted 
 on Narraganset pacers, with saddle-bags under their bottoms, 
 and green satchels under their arms, as though they were 
 about to beat the hoof from one county court to another in 
 search of a law-suit. 
 
 The chivalric Peter, as might be expected, took no notice of 
 these cunning varlets ; who, with professional industry, fell to 
 prying and sifting about, in quest of ex parte evidence ; per- 
 plexing divers simple Indians and old women, with their cross- 
 questioning, until they contradicted and forswore themselves 
 most horribly. Thus having fulfilled their errand to their own 
 satisfaction, they returned to the grand council with their 
 satchels and saddle-bags stuffed full of villainous rumours, 
 apocryphal stories, and outrageous calumnies,— for all which 
 the great Peter did not care a tobacco-stopper ; but, I warrant 
 me, had they attempted to play off the same trick upon Wil- 
 liam the Testy, he would have treated them both to an aerial 
 gambol on his patent gallows. 
 
 The grand council of the east held a very solemn meeting, 
 on the return of their envoys ; and after they had pondered a 
 long time on the situation of affairs, were upon the point of 
 adjourning without being able to agree upon any thing. At 
 this critical moment, one of those meddlesome, indefatigable 
 spirits, who endeavour to establish a character for patriotism 
 by blowing the bellows of party, until the whole furnace of 
 politics is red-hot with sparks and cinders— and who have just 
 cunning enough to know that there is no time so favourable for 
 getting on the people's backs as when they are in a state of 
 turmod, and attending to every body's business but their own 
 —this aspiring imp of faction, who was called a great politi- 
 cian, because he had secured a seat in council by calumniating 
 all his opponents — he, I say , conceived this a fit opportunity to 
 strike a blow that should secure his popularity among his con- 
 stituents who lived on the borders of Nieuw-Nederlandt, and 
 were the greatest poachers in Christendom, excepting the 
 Scotch border nobles. Like a second Peter the Hermit, there- 
 fore, he stood forth and preached up a crusade against Peter 
 * Stuyvesant and his devoted city. 
 
A JIISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 191 
 
 He made a speech which lasted six hours, according to the 
 ancient custom in these parts, in which he represented the 
 Dutch as a race of impious heretics, who neither behoved in 
 witchcraft, nor the sovereign virtues of horse-shoes — who left 
 their country for the lucre of gain, not like themselves, for the 
 enjoyment of liberty of conscience — who, in short, were a race 
 of mere cannibals and anthropophagi, inasmuch as they never 
 eat cod-fish on Saturday, devoured swine's flesh without mo 
 lasses, and held pumpkins in utter contempt. 
 
 This speech had the desired effect, for the council, being 
 a,wakened by the sergeant-at-arms, rubbed their eyes, and de- 
 clared that it was just and pohtic to declare instant war 
 agamst these unchristian anti-pumpkinites. But it was neces- 
 sary that the people at large should first be prepared for this 
 measure; and for this purpose the arguments of the orator 
 were preached from the pulpit for several Sundays subse- 
 quent, and earnestly recommended to the consideration of 
 every good Christian, who professed as well as practiced the 
 doctrines of meekness, charity, and the forgiveness of injuries. 
 This is the first time we hear of the " drum ecclesiastic" beat- 
 ing up for political recruits in our country ; and it proved of 
 such signal efficacy, that it has since been called into frequent 
 service throughout our Union. A cunning politician is often 
 foimd skulking under the clerical robe, with an outside all 
 religion, and an inside all political rancour. Things spiritual 
 and things temporal are strangely jumbled together, like poi- 
 sons and antidotes on an apothecary's shelf ; and instead of a 
 devout sermon, the simple church-going folk have often a po- 
 litical pamphlet thrust down their throats, labelled with a 
 pious text from Scripture. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW THE NEW-A5ISTERDAMERS BECAME GREAT IN ARMS, AND 
 OF THE DIREFUL CATASTROPHE OF A MIGHTY ARMY — TO- 
 GETHER W^ITH PETER STUYVESANT'S MEASURES TO FORTIFY 
 THE CITY— AND HOW HE WAS THE ORIGINAL FOUNDER OF THE 
 BATTERY. 
 
 But, notwithstanding that the grand council, as I have 
 already shown, were amazingly discreet in their proceedings 
 respecting the New Netherlands, and conducted the whole 
 
192 
 
 A UISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 with almost as much silence and mystery as does the sage 
 British cabinet one of its ill-starred secret expeditions — yet did 
 the ever-watchful Peter receive as full and accurate informa- 
 tion of every movement as does the court of France of all the 
 notable enterprises I have mentioned. He accordingly set 
 himself to work, to render the machinations of his bitter ad- 
 versaries abortive. 
 
 I know that many will censure the precipitation of this 
 stout-hearted old governor, in that he hurried into the ex- 
 penses of fortification, without ascertaining whether they were 
 necessary, by prudently waiting until the enemy was at the 
 door. But they should recollect that Peter Stuy vesant had not 
 the benefit of an insight into the modem arcana of politics, 
 and was strangely bigoted to certain obsolete maxims of the 
 old school ; among which he firmly beheved, that to render a 
 country respected abroad, it was necessary to make it formid- 
 able at home— and that a nation shoidd place its reliance for 
 peace and security more upon its own strength, than on the 
 justice or good-will of its neighbours. He proceeded, therefore, 
 with all diligence, to put the province and metropohs in a 
 strong posture of defence. 
 
 Ainong the few renmants of ingenious inventions which 
 remained from the days of William the Testy, were those 
 impregnable bulwarks of public safety, militia laws ; by which 
 the inhabitants were obhged to tiu-n out twice a year, with 
 such mOitary equipments— as it pleased God; and were put 
 under the command of very valiant tailors, and man milliners, 
 who though on ordinary occasions the meekest, pippin-hearted 
 little men in the world, were very devils at parades and courts- 
 martial, v/hen they had cocked hats on their heads, and 
 swords by their sides. Under the instructions of these peri- 
 odical warriors, the gallant train-bands made marvellous pro- 
 ficiency in the mj'stery of gunpowder. They were taught to 
 face to the right, to wheel to the left, to snap off empty fire- 
 locks without winking, to turn a corner v^^thout any great 
 uproar or irregularity, and to march through sun and rain 
 from one end of the town to the other without fluicliing — until 
 in the end they became so valorous, that they fired oft" blank 
 cartridges, without so much as turning away their heads — 
 could hear the largest field-piece discharged, without stopping 
 their eai-s, or falhng into much confusion — and would even go 
 through all the fatigues and perils of a summer day's parade, 
 without having their ranks much thinned by desertion ! 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 193 
 
 True it is, the genius of this truly pacific people was so Httle 
 given to war, that during the intervals which occurred be- 
 tween field days, they generally contrived to forget all the 
 mihtary tuition they had received; so that when they reap 
 pcared on parade, they scarcely knew the butt-end of the mus- 
 ket from the muzzle, and invariably mistook the right shoul- 
 der for the left— a mistake which, however, was soon obviated 
 by chalking their left arms. But whatever might be their 
 blunders and awkwardness, the sagacious Kieft declared them 
 to be of but little importance— since, as he judiciously observed, 
 one campaign would be of more instruction to them than a 
 hundred parades ; for though two-thirds of them might be food 
 for powder, yet such of the other third as did not run away 
 would become most experienced veterans. 
 
 The great Stuyvesant had no particular veneration for the 
 ingenious experiments and institutions of his shrewd predeces- 
 sor, and among other things held the militia system in very 
 considerable contempt, which he was often heard to call in 
 joke— for he was sometimes fond of a joke— governor Eaeft'S 
 broken reed. As, however, the present emergency was press- 
 ing, he was obhged to avail himself of such means of defence 
 as were next at hand, and accordingly appointed a general in- 
 spection and parade of the train-bands. But oh! Mars and 
 Bellona, and all ye other powers of war, both great and small, 
 what a turning out was here !— Here came men without offi- 
 cers, and officers without men— long fowling-pieces, and short 
 blunderbusses— muskets of all sorts and sizes, som,e ^vithout 
 bayonets, others without locks, others without stocks, and 
 many without either lock, stock or barrel— cartridge-boxes, 
 shot-belts, powder-horns, swords, hatchets, snicker-snees, 
 crow-bars, and broomsticks, all mingled higgledy piggledy— 
 hke one of our continental armies at the breaking out of the 
 revolution. 
 
 This sudden transformation of a pacific community into a 
 band of warriors, is doubtless what is meant, in modern days, 
 by "putting a nation in armour," and "fixing it in an atti- 
 tude" — in which armour and attitude it makes as martial a 
 figure, and as likely to acquit itself with as much prowess as 
 the renowned Sancho Panza, when suddenly equipped to de- 
 fend his island of Barataria. 
 
 The sturdy Peter eyed this ragged regiment with some such 
 rueful aspect as a man would eye the devil ; but knowing, hke 
 a wise man, that all he had to do was to make the best out of a 
 
194 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 bad bargain, he determined to give his heroes a seasoning. 
 
 Having, therefore, drilled them through the manual exercise 
 over and over again, he ordered the fifes to strike up a quick 
 march, and trudged his sturdy troops backwards and forwards 
 about the streets of New- Amsterdam, and the fields adjacent, 
 until their short legs ached, and their fat sides sweated again. 
 But this was not all; the martieil spirit of the old governor 
 caught fire from the sprightly music of the fife, and he resolved 
 to try the mettle of his troops, and give them a taste of the 
 hardships of iron war. To this end he encamped them, as the 
 shades of evening fell, upon a hill formerly called Bunker's 
 Hill, at some distance from the town, with a fuU intention of 
 initiating them into the discipHne of camps, and of renewing, 
 the next day, the toils and perils of the field. But so it came 
 to pass, that in the night there feU a great and heavy rain, 
 which descended in torrents upon the camp, and the mighty 
 army strangely melted away before it; so that when Gaffer 
 Phoebus came to shed his morning beams upon the place, saving 
 Peter Stuyvesant and his trumpeter. Van Corlear, scarce one 
 was to be found of aU the multitude that had encamped there 
 the night before. 
 
 This awful dissolution of his army would have appalled a 
 commander of less nerve than Peter Stuyvesant ; but he con- 
 sidered it as a matter of but smaU importance, though he 
 thenceforward regarded the mihtia system with ten times 
 greater contempt than ever, and took care to provide himself 
 with a good garrison of chosen men, whom he kept in pay, of 
 whom he boasted that they at least possessed the quality, in- 
 dispensable in soldiers, of being water-proof. 
 
 The next care of the vigilant Stuyvesant was to strengthen 
 and fortify New-Amsterdam. For this purpose, he caused to 
 be built a strong picket fence, that reached across the island, 
 from river to river, being intended to protect the city not 
 merely from the sudden invasions of foreign enemies, but like- 
 wise from the incursions of the neighbouring savages.* 
 
 Some traditions, it is true, have ascribed the building of this 
 
 * In an antique view of New- Amsterdam, taken some years after the above period, 
 is a representation of this wall, which stretched along the course of Wall-street, so 
 called in commemoration of this great bulwark. One gate, called the Land-Poort, 
 opened upon Broadway, hard by where at present stands the Trinity Church; and 
 another, called the Water-Poort, stood about where the Tontine Coffee-House is at 
 present — opening upon Smits Vleye, or as it is commonly called, Smith Fly, then d 
 marshy valley, with a creek or inlet gxteudiug up what we call Maiden-lane. 
 
A BISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 195 
 
 wall to a later period, but they are wholly incorrect; for a 
 memorandum in the Stuyvesant manuscript, dated towards 
 the middle of the governor's reign, mentions this wall particu- 
 larly, as a very strong and curious piece of workmanship, and 
 the admiration of all the savages in the neighbourhood. And 
 it mentions, moreover, the alarming circumstance of a drove 
 of stray cows breaking through the grand wall of a dark night ; 
 by which the Avhole community of New Amsterdam was 
 thrown into a terrible panic. 
 
 In addition to this great wall, he cast up several outworks to 
 Fort Amsterdam, to protect the sea-board, at the point of the 
 island. These consisted of formidable mud batteries, solidly 
 faced, after the manner of the Dutch ovens, common in those 
 days, with clam-shells. 
 
 These frowning bulwarks, in process of time, came to be 
 pleasantly overrun by a verdant carpet of grass and clover, 
 and their high embankments overshadowed by wide-spreading 
 sycamores, among vv^hose foliage the little birds sported about, 
 rejoicing the ear with their melodious notes. The old burghers 
 would repair of an afternoon to smoke their pipes under the 
 shade of theii- branches, contemplating the golden sun as he 
 gradually sunk into the west, an emblem of that tranquil end 
 towards which themselves were hastening— wliilc the young 
 men and the damsels of the town would take many a moon- 
 light stroU among these favourite haunts, watching the silver 
 beams of chaste Cynthia tremble along the cahn bosom of the 
 bay, or Hght iip the white sail of some gliding bark, and inter- 
 changing the honest vows of constant affection. Such was the 
 origin of that renowned walk. The Battery, which, though 
 ostensibly devoted to the purpose of war, has ever been conse- 
 crated to the sweet delights of peace. The favourite walk of 
 declining age — the healthful resort of the feeble invahd — the 
 Sunday refreshment of the dusty tradesman — the scene of 
 many a bo;^ash gambol— the rendezvous of many a tender as- 
 signation — the comfort of the citizen — the ornament of Nev- 
 York, and the pride of the lovely island of Manna-hata. 
 
196 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW THE PEOPLE OF THE EAST COUNTRY WERE SUDDENLY 
 AFFLICTED WITH A DIABOLICAL EVIL— AND THEIR JUDICIOUS 
 MEASURES FOR THE EXTIRPATION THEREOF. 
 
 Having thus provided for the temporary security of New- 
 Amsterdam, and guarded it against any sudden surprise, the 
 gallant Peter took a hearty pinch of snuff, and, snapping his 
 fingers, set the great council of Amphyctions, and their cham- 
 pion, the doughty Ahcxsander Partridg, at defiance. It is im- 
 possible to say, notAvithstanding, what might have been the is- 
 sue of this affair, had not the council been all at once involved 
 in sad perplexity, and as much dissension sown among its 
 members, as of yore was stirred up in the camp of the brawling 
 warriors of Greece. 
 
 The council of the league, as I have shown m my last chap- 
 ter, had already announced its hostile determinations, and al- 
 ready Avas the mighty colony of NcAv-Haven, and the pidssant 
 toAvn of Piquag, otherAvise called Weatliersfield — famous for its 
 onions and its witches — and the great trading house of Hartford, 
 and all the other redoubtable border towns, in a prodigious tur- 
 moil, furbishing up then' rusty fowling-pieces, and shouting 
 aloud for war ; by which they anticipated easy conquests, and 
 gorgeous spoils, from the little fat Dutch viQages. But this 
 joyous brawling was soon silenced by the conduct of the colony 
 of Massachusetts. Struck Avith the gallant spirit of the brave 
 old Peter, and convinced by the chivalric frankness and heroic 
 warmth of his vindication, they refused to belicA^e him guilty 
 of the infamous plot most Avrongfully laid at his door. With 
 a generosity for wliich I would yield them immortal honour, 
 they declared that no determination of the grand council of the 
 league should bind the general court of Massachusetts to join 
 in an offensiA^e war Avliich should appear to such general com*t 
 to be unjust.* 
 
 This refusal immediately invoh^ed the colony of Massachu- 
 setts and the other combined colonies in A'ery serious difficul- 
 ties and disputes, and would no doubt haA^e produced a dissolu- 
 tion of the confederacy, but that the council of Amphyctions, 
 
 * Haz. Col. State Papers. 
 
A JUS TO BY OF NEW- YORE. 
 
 197 
 
 findinp: that they could not stand alone, if mutilated by the 
 loss of so important a member as lytassachusetts, Avere fain to 
 abandon for the present their hostile machinations against the 
 Manhattoes. Such is the marvellous energy and the puissance 
 of those confederacies, composed of a number of sturdy, seK- 
 Avilled, discordant parts, loosely banded together by a puny 
 general government. As it was, however, the warlike towns 
 of Connecticut had no cause to deplore this disappointment of 
 their martial ardour ; for by my faith — though the combined 
 powers of the league might have been too potent, in the end, 
 for the robustious warriors of the Manhattoes— yet in the in- 
 terhn would the lion-hearted Peter and his myrmidons have 
 choked the stomachful heroes of Piquag with then- own onions, 
 and have given the other little border towns such a scouring, 
 that I warrant they would have had no stomach to squat on 
 the land, or invade the hen-roost of a New-Nederlander, for a 
 century to come. 
 
 Indeed, there was more than one cause to divert the atten- 
 tion of the good people of the east from their hostile purposes; 
 for just about this time were they horribly beleaguered and 
 harassed by the inroads of the prince of darkness, divers of 
 whose liege subjects they detected lurking within their camp, 
 all of whom they incontinently roasted as so many spies and 
 dangerous enemies. Not to speak in parables, we are in- 
 formed, that at this juncture the New-England provinces 
 were exceedingly troubled by multitudes of losel A\atches, 
 who wrought strange devices to beguile and distress the mul- 
 titude; and notwithstanding numerous judicious and bloody 
 laws had been enacted against all "solemn conversing or com- 
 pacting with the divil, by way of conjuracon or the like,"* 
 yet did the dark crime of witchcraft continue to increase to 
 an alarming degree, that would almost transcend belief, were 
 not the fact too well authenticated to be even doubted for an 
 instant. 
 
 What is particularly worthy of admiration is, that this ter- 
 rible art, which so long has baffled the painful researches and 
 abstruse studies of philosophers, astrologers, alchyniists, the- 
 urgists, and other sages, was chiefly confined to the most igno- 
 rant, decrepit, and ugly old women in the coramunity, who 
 had scarcely more brains than the broomsticks they rode 
 upon. 
 
 * New-Plymouth Record. 
 
198 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YOUR. 
 
 When once an alarm is sounded, the public, who love dearly 
 to be in a panic, are not long in want of proofs to support it — 
 raise but the cry of yellow fever, and immediately every head- 
 ache, and indigestion, and overflowing of the bile, is pro- 
 nounced the terrible epidemic. In like manner, in the pres- 
 ent instance, whoever was troubled with colic or lumbago, was 
 sure to be bewitched; and w^oe to any unlucky old woman 
 that hved in his neighbourhood. Such a howling abomination 
 could not be suffered to remain long unnoticed, and it accord- 
 ingly soon attracted the fiery indignation of the sober and re> 
 flective part of the community— more especially of those, who, 
 whilome, had evinced so much active benevolence in the con- 
 version of Quakers and Anabaptists. The grand council of 
 the Amphyctions pubhcly set their faces against so deadly and 
 dangerous a sin ; and a severe scrutiny took place after those 
 nefarious witches, who were easily detected by devil's pinches, 
 black cats, broomsticks, and the circumstance of theu* only 
 being able to weep three tears, and those out of the left eye. 
 
 It is incredible the number of offences that were detected, 
 "for every one of which," says the profound and reverend 
 Cotton Mather, in that excellent work, the History of New- 
 England— "we have such a sufiicient evidence, that no rea- 
 sonable man in this whole country ever did question them ; 
 and it will be unreasonable to do it in any other.'''' 
 
 Indeed, that authentic and judicious historian, John Jos- 
 selyn, Gent., furnishes us with unquestionable facts on this 
 subject. "There are none," observes he, "that beg in tliis 
 country, but there be witches too many — bottle-beUied witches 
 and others, that produce many strange apparitions, if you will 
 believe report, of a shallop at sea manned with women— and 
 of a ship, and great red horse standing by the mainmast: the 
 ship being in small cove to the eastward, vanished of a sud- 
 den," etc. 
 
 The number of delinquents, however, and their magical de- 
 vices, were not more remarkable than their diabohcal obsti- 
 nacy. Though exhorted in the most solemn, pei*suasive, and 
 affectionate manner, to confess themselves guilty, and be 
 bui-nt for the good of rehgion, and the entertainment of the 
 public ; yet did they most pertinaciously pei*sist in asserting 
 their innocence. Such incredible obstinacy was in itself de- 
 serving of immediate punishment, and was sufficient proof, if 
 
 * Mather's Hist. New Enp., b. 6. eh. 7. 
 
A niSTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 199 
 
 proof were necessary, that they were in league with the devil, 
 who is perverseness itself. But their judges were just and 
 merciful, and were determined to punish none that were not 
 convicted on the best of testimony ; not that they needed any 
 evidence to satisfy their own minds, for, like true and experi- 
 enced judges, their minds were perfectly made up, and they 
 Y/ere thorouglily satisfied of the guilt of the prisoners, before 
 they proceeded to try them ; but still something was necessary 
 to convince the community at large— to quiet those prying 
 quidnuncs who should come after them— in short, the world 
 must be satisfied. Oh, the world — the world !— all the world 
 knows the world of trouble the world is eternally occasioning ! 
 — The worthy judges, therefore, were driven to the necessity 
 of sifting, detecting, and making evident as noon-day, matters 
 which were at the commencement all clearly understood and 
 firmly decided upon in their own pericraniums — so that it may 
 truly be said that the witches were burnt to gratify the popu- 
 lace of the day— but were tried for the satisfaction of the whole 
 world that should come after them. 
 
 Finding, therefore, that neither exhortation, sound reason, 
 nor friendly entreaty had any avail on these hardened offend- 
 ers, they resorted to the more urgent arguments of the tor- 
 ture, and having thus absolutely wrung the truth from their 
 stubborn lips, they condemned them to undergo the roasting 
 due unto the heinous crimes they had confessed. Some even 
 carried their perverseness so far as to expire under the torture, 
 protesting their innocence to the last ; but these were looked 
 upon as thorouglily and absolutely possessed by the devil, and 
 the pious by-standers only lamented that they had not hved a 
 little longer, to have i^erished in the flames. 
 
 In the city of Ephesus, we are told that the plague was ex- 
 pelled by stoning a ragged old beggar to death, whom Appo- 
 lonius pointed out as being the evil spirit that caused it, and 
 who actually showed himself to be a demon, by changing into 
 a shagged dog. In like manner, and by measures equally sa- 
 gacious, a salutary check was given to this growing evil. The 
 witches were all burnt, banished, or panic-struck, and in a 
 little v\rhile there was not an ugly old woman to be found 
 throuo:hout New-England — which is doubtless one reason why 
 all the young women there are so handsome. Those honest 
 Lo\k who had suffered from their incantations gradually recov- 
 ered, excepting such as had been afflicted with twitches and 
 aclies. which, however, ' assumed the less alarming aspect of 
 
200 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 rheumatism, sciatics, and lumbagos— and the good people oi 
 New-England, abandoning the study of the occult sciences, 
 turned their attention to the more profitable hocus-pocus of 
 trade, and soon became expert in the legerdemain art of turn- 
 ing a penny. Still, however, a tinge of the old leaven is dis- 
 cernible, even unto this day, in their characters — witches oc 
 casionally start up among them in different disguises, as 
 physicians, civihans, and divines. The people at large show 
 a keenness, a cleverness, and a profundity of wisdom that 
 savours strongly of witchcraft — and it has been remarked, 
 that whenever any stones fall from the moon, the greater part 
 of them are sure to tumble into New-England I 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHICH RECORDS THE RISE AND RENOWN OF A VALIANT COM- 
 MANDER, SHOWING THAT A MAN, LIKE A BLADDER, MAY BE 
 PUFFED UP TO GREATNESS AND IMPORTANCE BY MERE WIND. 
 
 When treating of these tempestuous times, the unknown 
 writer of the Stuyvesant manuscript breaks out into a vehe- 
 ment apostrophe, in praise of the good St. Nicholas ; to whose 
 protectmg care he entirely ascribes the strange dissensions 
 that broke out in the council of the Amphyctions, and the 
 direful witchcraft that prevailed in the east country— whereby 
 the hostile machinations against the Nederlanders were for a 
 time frustrated, and his favourite city of New-Amsterdam 
 preserved from unminent peril and deadly warfare. Darkness 
 and lowering superstition hung over the fail' valleys of the 
 east ; the pleasant banks of the Connecticut no longer echoed 
 with the sounds of rustic gayety; direful phantoms and por 
 teutons apparitions were seen in the ah*— ghding spectrums 
 haunted every wild brook and dreary glen— strange voices, 
 made by viewless forms, were heard in desert solitudes - and 
 the border towns were so occupied in detecting and punishing 
 the knowing old women who had produced these alarming ap- 
 pearances, that for a while the province of Nieuw-Nedeiiandt 
 and its inhabitants were totally forgotten. 
 
 The fn-eat Peter, therefore, finding that nothing was to be 
 immediately apprehended from his eastern neighbours, turned 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 201 
 
 himself about, with a praiseworthy vigilance that ever dis- 
 tinguished him, to put a stop to the insults of the Swedes. 
 These freeboo' ers, my attentive reader will recollect, had be- 
 gun to be very troublesome towards the latter part of the reign 
 of William the Testy, having set the proclamations of that 
 doughty little governor at nought, and put the intrepid Jan 
 Jaiisen Alpendam to a perfect nonplus ! 
 
 Peter Stuyvesant, however, as has already been shown, was 
 a governor of different habits and turn of mind — without more 
 ado, he hnmediately issued orders for raising a corps of troops 
 to be stationed on the southern frontier, under the command 
 of brigadier-general Jacobus Van Poffenburgh. This illustri- 
 ous warrior had risen to great importance during the reign of 
 WiUielmus Kieft, and if histories speak true, was second in 
 command to the hapless Van Curlet, when he and his ragged 
 regiment were inhumanly kicked out of Fort Good Hope by 
 the Yankees. In consequence of having been in such a "mem- 
 orable affair," and of having received more wounds on a cer- 
 tain honourable part that shah be nameless than any of his 
 comrades, he was ever after considered as a hero, who had 
 "seen some service." Certain it is, he enjoyed the unhmited 
 confidence and f riendsiiip of William the Testy ; who would 
 sit for hours, and hsten with wonder to his gunpowder narra- 
 tives of surprising victories — he had never gained ; and dread- 
 ful battles — from which he had run away. 
 
 It was tropically observed by honest old Socrates, that 
 heaven had infused into some men at their birth a portion of 
 intellectual gold ; into others of intellectual silver ; while others 
 were bounteously furnished out with abundance of brass and 
 iron -now of this last class was undoubtedly the great Gen- 
 eral Van Poffenburgh; and from the display he continually 
 made thereof, I am inchned to think that dame Nature, who 
 will sometimes be partial, had blessed him with enough of 
 those valuable materials to have fitted up a dozen ordinary 
 braziers. But what is most to be admired is, that he contrived 
 to pass off all liis brass and copper upon Willielmus Kieft, who 
 was no great judge of base coin, as pure and genuine gold. 
 The consequence was, that upon the resignation of Jacobus 
 Van Curlet, who, after the loss of Fort Good Hope, retired, 
 hke a veteran general, to live under the shade of his laurels, 
 the mighty "copper captain" was promoted to his station. 
 This he filled with great importance, always styling himself 
 commander-in-chief of the armies of New Netherlands ;" though, 
 
202 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 to tell the truth, the armies, or rather army, consisted of a 
 handful o£ hen-stealing, bottle-bruising ragamuffins. 
 
 Such was the character of the warrior appointed by Peter 
 Stuyvesant to defend his southern frontier; nor may it be un- 
 interesting to my reader to have a glimpse of his person. He 
 was not very tall, but notwithstanding, a huge, full-bodied 
 man, whose bulk did not so much arise from his being fat, as 
 windy, being so completely inflated with his own importance, 
 that he resembled one of those bags of wmd which Jb^olus, in 
 an incredible fit of generosity, gave to that wandering warrior 
 Ulysses. 
 
 His dress comported with his character, for he had almost 
 as much brass and copper without as nature had stored away 
 within — his coat was crossed and slashed, and carbonadoed 
 with stripes of copper lace, and swa.thed round the body with 
 a crimson sash, of the size and texture of a fishing-net, doubt- 
 less to keep his valiant heart from bursting through his ribs. 
 His head and whiskers were profusely powdered, from the 
 midst of which his full-blooded face glowed like a fiery fur- 
 nace ; and his magnanimous soul seemed ready to bounce out 
 at a pair of large, glassy, bhnking eyes, which projected like 
 those of a lobster. 
 
 I swear to thee, worthy reader, if report belie not this war- 
 rior, I would give all the money in my pocket to have seen 
 him accoutred cap-a-pie, in martial array — booted to the mid- 
 dle—sashed to the chin— collared to the ears— whiskered to the 
 teeth— crowned with an overshadowing cocked hat, and girded 
 with a leathern belt ten inches broad, from which trailed a 
 falchion, of a length that I dare not mention. Thus equipped, 
 he strutted about, as bitter-looking a man of war as the far- 
 famed More of Move Hall, when he salUed forth, armed at all 
 points, to slay the Dragon of Wantley.* 
 
 Notwithstanding all these great endowments and transcend^ 
 ent qualities of this renowned general, I must confess he was 
 not exactly the kind of man that the gallant Peter would have 
 
 * " Had you but seen him in his dress, 
 How fierce he look'd and Jiow big; 
 You would have thought him for to be 
 Some Egyptian Porcupig. 
 
 " He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all, 
 Each cow, each liorse, and each hog; 
 For fear they did flee, for they took him to be 
 Some strange outlandish hedge-hog." 
 
 - Ballad of Drag, of Want- 
 
A UISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 203 
 
 chosen to command his troops — but the truth is, that in those 
 days the province did not abound, as at present, in great mih- 
 tary characters ; who, hke so many Cincinnatuses, people every 
 little village — marshalling out cabbages instead of soldiers, and 
 signalizing themselves in the corn-field, instead of the field of 
 battle ; — who have surrendered the toils ol war for the moie 
 useful but inglorious arts of peace ; and so blended the laurel 
 with the olive, that you may have a general for a landlord, a 
 colonel for a stage-driver, and your horse shod by a valiant 
 " captain of volunteers. " The redoubtable General Van Poffen- 
 burgh, therefore, was appointed to the command of the new- 
 levied troops, cliiefiy because there were no competitors for the 
 station, and partly because it would have been a breach of 
 military etiquette to have appointed a younger officer over his 
 head — an injustice which the great Peter would have rather 
 died than have committed. 
 
 No sooner did this thrice-valiant copper captain receive 
 marching orders, than he conducted his army undauntedly to 
 the southern frontier ; through wild lands and savage deserts ; 
 over insurmountable mountains, across impassable floods, and 
 through impenetrable forests; subduing a vast tract of unin- 
 habited country, and encountering more perils, according to his 
 own account, than did ever the great Xenophon in his far- 
 famed retreat with his ten thousand Grecians. All this ac- 
 complished, he established on the South (or Delaware) river, a 
 redoubtable redoubt, named Fort Casimir, in honour of a 
 favourite pair of brimstone-coloured trunk breeches of the 
 governor. As this fort will be found to give rise to very im- 
 portant and interesting events, it may be worth while to notice 
 that it was afterwards called Nieuw-Amstel, and w^as the ori- 
 ginal germ of the present flourishing town of New-Castle, 
 an appellation erroneously substituted for No Castle^ there 
 neither being, nor ever having been, a castle, or any thing of 
 the kind, upon the premises. 
 
 The Swedes did not suffer tamely this menacing movement 
 of the Nederlanders ; on the contrary, Jan Printz, at that time 
 governor of New-Sweden, issued a protest against what he 
 termed an encroachment upon his jurisdiction. But Van Pof- 
 fcnburgb had become too well versed in the nature of procla- 
 mations and protests, while he served under William the Testy, 
 to be in any wise daunted by such papcsr warfare. His fortress 
 being finished, it would have done any man's heart good to be- 
 hold into what a magnitude he inmiediately swelled. He would 
 
204 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 stride in and out a dozen times a day, surveying it in front and 
 in rear ; on this side and on that. Then would he dress himself in 
 full regimentals, and strut backwards and forwards, for hours 
 together, on the top of Ms little rampart — like a vain-glorious 
 cock-pigeon, vapouring on the top of his coop. In a Avord, un- 
 less my readers have noticed, with curious eye, the petty com- 
 mander 01 one of our little, snivelling mihtary j)Osts, SAvelhng 
 with all the vanity of new regimentals, and the pomposity 
 derived from commanding a handful of tatterdemahons, I de- 
 spair of giving them any adequate idea of the prodigious dig- 
 nity of General Von Poffenburgh. 
 
 It is recorded, in the delectable romance of Pierce Forest, that 
 a young knight being dubbed by king Alexander, did inconti- 
 nently gallop into an adjoining forest, and belaboured the trees 
 with such might and main, that the whole court was convmced 
 that he was the most potent and courageous gentleman on the 
 face of the earth. In like manner the great Van Poffenburgh 
 would ease oft that valorous spleen, which like wind is so apt to 
 grow so unruly in the stomachs of new-made soldiers, unpel- 
 hng them to box-lobby brawls and broken-headed quarrels. 
 For at such times, when he found his martial spirit waxing hot 
 withm him, he would prudently sally forth into the fields, and 
 lugging out his trusty sabre, would lay about him most lustily, 
 decapitating cabbages by platoons ; hewing down whole pha- 
 lanxes of sunflowers, v/hich he termed gigantic Swedes ; and if, 
 peradventure, he espied a colony of honest, big-belhed pump- 
 kins quietly basking themselves in the sun, ' ' Ah, caitiff Yan- 
 kees," would he roar, "have I caught ye at last?" — so saymg, 
 with one sweep of his sword, he would cleave the unhappy 
 vegetables from their chins to their waistbands ; by which war- 
 like havoc his choler being in some sort allayed, he would 
 return to his garrison with a full conviction that he was a very 
 miracle of military prowess. 
 
 The next ambition of General Van Poffenburgh was to be 
 thought a strict disciplinarian. Well knowing that disci- 
 pline is the soul of all mihtarj?" enterprise, he enforced it with 
 the most rigorous precision; obliging every man to tiu'n out 
 his toes and hold up his head on parade, and prescribing the 
 breadth of their ruffles to all such as had any shirts to their 
 backs. 
 
 Having one day, in the course of his devout researches in 
 the Bible, (for the pious Eneas himself could not exceed him in 
 outward religion,) encountered the_history of Absalom and his 
 
A niSTORT OF NEW-YOBK 
 
 205 
 
 melancholy end, the general, in an evil hour, issued orders for 
 cropping the hair of both officers and men throughout the gar- 
 rison. Now it came to pass, that among his ofiicers was one 
 Kildermecster, a sturdy veteran, who had cherished, through 
 the course of a long life, a rugged mop of hair, not a little re- 
 sembling the shag of a Newfoundland dog, terminating with 
 an immoderate queue like the handle of a frying-pan; and 
 queued so tightly to his head, that his eyes and mouth gener- 
 ally stood ajar, and his eyebrows were drawn up to the top of 
 his forehead. It may naturally be supposed that the possessor 
 of so goodly an appendage would resist with abhorrence an 
 order condemning it to the shears. On hearing the general 
 orders, he discharged a tempest of veteran, soldier-like oaths, 
 and dunder and blixums — swore he would break any man's 
 head who attempted to meddle with his tail — queued it stiffer 
 than ever, and whisked it about the garrison as fiercely as the 
 tail of a crocodile. 
 
 The eel-skin queue of old Kildermeester became instantly an 
 affair of the utmost importance. The commander-in-chief was 
 too enlightened an officer not to perceive that the discipline of 
 I the garrison, the subordination and good order of the armies 
 of the Nieuw-Nederlandts, the consequent safety of the whole 
 province, and ultimately the dignity and prosperity of their 
 High Mightmesses, the Lords States General, but above all, the 
 dignity of the great General Van Pofienburgh, all imperiously 
 demanded the docldng of that stubborn queue. He therefore 
 . determined that old Kildermeester should be publicly shorn of 
 his glories in the presence of the whole garrison — the old man 
 as resolutely stood on the defensive — whereupon the general, 
 as became a great man, was highly exasperated, and the offen- 
 der was arrested and tried by a court-martial for mutiny, de- 
 sertion, and all the other list of offences noticed in the articles 
 of war, ending with a ' ' videlicet, in wearing an eel-skin queue, 
 three feet long, contrary to orders." — Then came on arraign- 
 ments, and trials, and pleadings ; and the whole country was in 
 a ferment about this unfortunate queue. As it is well known 
 that the commander of a distant frontier post has the power of 
 acting pretty much after his own will, there is little doubt that 
 the veteran Avould have been hanged or shot at least, had he 
 not Idckily fallen ill of a fever, through mere chagrin and mor- 
 tification—and most flagitiously deserted from all earthly com- 
 mand, with his beloved locks unviolated. His obstinacy re- 
 mained imshaken to the very last moment, when he directed 
 
206 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 that he should be carried to his grave vrith his eel-skin queue 
 sticking out of a hole in his cofifm. 
 
 This magnanimous affair obtained the general great credit as 
 an excellent disciphnarian, but it is hinted that he was ever 
 after subject to bad dreams and fearful visitations in the night 
 — when the grizzly spectrum of old Kildermeester would stand 
 sentinel by his bed-side, erect as a pmnp, his enormous queur 
 strutting out like the handle. 
 
A BISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 207 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 CAPTAINING THE SECOND TART OF THE REIGN OF 
 rETER THE HEADSTRONG, AND HIS GAILANT 
 ACHIEVEMENTS ON THE DEI A WARE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WHICH IS EXHIBITED A WARLIKE PORTRAIT OF THE GREAT 
 PETER— AND HOW GENERAL VAN POFFENBURGH DISTINGUISHED 
 HIMSELF AT FORT CASIMIR. 
 
 Hitherto, most venerable and courteous reader, have I 
 shown thee the administration of the valorous Stuyvesant, 
 under the nuld moonshine of peace, or rather the grim tran- 
 quillity of awful expectation ; but now the war-drum rumbles 
 from afar, the brazen trumpet brays its thrilhng note, and the 
 rude clash of hostile arms speaks fearful prophecies of eoming 
 troubles. The gallant warrior starts from soft repose, from 
 golden visions, and voluptuous ease; where, in the dulcet, 
 *' piping time of peace," he sought sweet solace after aU his 
 toUs. No more ia beauty's syren lap reclined, he weaves fair 
 garlands for his lady's brows ; no more entwines with flowers 
 his shining sword, nor through the live-long lazy sununer's day 
 chants forth his lovesick soul in madrigals. To manhood 
 roused, he spurns the amorous flute; doffs from his brawny 
 back the robe of peace, and clothes his pampered limbs in 
 panoply of steel. O'er his dark brow, where late the myrtle 
 waved, where wanton roses breathed enervate love, he rears 
 the beaming casque and nodding plume; grasps the bright 
 shield and shakes the ponderous lance ; or mounts with eager 
 pride his fiery steed, and burns for deeds of glorious chivalry ! 
 
 But soft, worthy reader! I would not have you imagine, 
 that any preiix chevalier, thus hideously begirt, with iron, 
 existed in the city of New- Amsterdam. This is but a lofty and 
 gigantic mode in which heroic writers always taLk of war, 
 thereby to give it a noble and imposing aspect ; equipping our 
 
208 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORE, 
 
 warriors witli bucklers, helms, and lances, and such like out- 
 landish and obsolete weapons, the like of which perchance they 
 had never seen or heard of ; in the same mamier that a cunning 
 statuary arrays a modern general or an admiral in the ac- 
 coutrements of a Csesar or an Alexander. The simple truth, 
 tlien, of all this oratorical flourish is this — that the valiant 
 Potcr Stuy vesant all of a sudden found it necessary to sco!i< 
 his trusty blade, wliich too long had rusted in its scabbard, 
 and prepare himself to undergo those hardy toils of war in 
 which bis mighty soul so much dehghted. 
 
 Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagination— 
 or rather, I behold his goodly portrait, which still hangs up in 
 the family mansion of the Stuy vesants— arrayed in all the ter- 
 rors of a true Dutch general. His regimental coat of German 
 blue, gorgeously decorated with a goodly show of large brass 
 buttons reaching from his waistband to his chin. The volum- 
 inous skirts turned up at the corners, and separating gallantly 
 behind, so as to display the seat of a sumptuous pair of brim- 
 stone-coloured trunk breeches— a graceful style still prevalent 
 among the warriors of our day, and which is in conformity to 
 the custom of ancient heroes, who scorned to defend themselves 
 in the rear. His face rendered exceedingly terrible and war- 
 like by a pair of black mustachios ; his hair strutting out on 
 each side in stiffly pomatumed ear-locks, and descending in a 
 rat-tail queue below his waist ; a shining stock of black leather 
 supporting his chin, and a little but fierce cocked hat stuck 
 with a gallant and fiery air over his left eye. Such was the 
 chivalric port of Peter the Headstrong ; and when he made a 
 sudden halt, planted himself firmly on his solid supporter, with 
 his wooden leg inlaid with silver, a little in advance, in order 
 to strengthen his position, his right hand grasping a gold- 
 headed cane, his left resting upon the pummel of his sword ; 
 his head dressing spiritedly to the right, with a most appaUing 
 and hard-favoured frown upon his brow — he presented al- 
 together one of the most commanding, bitter-looking, and 
 soldier-like figures that ever strutted upon canvas. Proceed 
 we now to inquire the cause of this warlike preparation. 
 
 The encroaching disposition of the Swedes, on the South, or 
 Delaware river, has been duly recorded in the chronicles of 
 the reign of William the Testy. These encroachments having 
 been endured with that heroic magnanimity which is the 
 corner-stone of true courage, had been repeatedly and wickedly 
 aggravated. 
 
A JIISTORY OF NKW YORK. 
 
 209 
 
 llie Swedes, v^rho were of that class of cunning pretenders 
 to Christianity, who read the Bible upside-down, whenever it 
 interferes with their interests, inverted the golden maxijn, and 
 when their neighbour suffered them to smite him on the one 
 cheek, they generally smote him on the other also, whether 
 tiu-ned to them or not. Their repeated aggressions had been 
 among the numerous sources of vexation that conspired to keep 
 the irritable sensibilities of Wilhelmus Kieft in a constairo fever, 
 and it was only owing to the unfortunate circumstance, that he 
 had always a hundred things to do at once, that he did not take 
 siicli unrelenting vengeance as their offences merited. But 
 they had now a chieftain of a different character to deal with ; 
 and they were soon guilty of a piece of treachery, that threw 
 his honest blood into a ferment, and precluded all further 
 sufferance. 
 
 Printz, the governor of the province of New-Sweden, being 
 either deceased or removed, for of this fact some uncertainty 
 exists, was succeeded by Jan Eisingh, a gigantic Swede, and v»^ho, 
 had he not been rather knock-kneed and splay-footed, might 
 have served for the model of a Samson or a Hercules. He was 
 no less rapacious than mighty, and withal as crafty as he was 
 rapacious; so that, in fact, there is very little doubt, had he 
 Hved some four or five centuries before, he would have been 
 one of those wicked giants, who took such a cruel pleasure in 
 pocketing distressed damsels, when gadding about the world, 
 and locking them up in enchanted castles, without a toilet, a 
 change of linen, or any other convenience — in consequence of 
 which enormities, they fell under the high displeasure of 
 chivalry, and all true, loyal, and gallant knights were instructed 
 to attack and slay outright any miscreant they might happen 
 to find, above six feet high ; which is doubtless one reason that 
 the race of large men is nearly extinct, and the generations of 
 latter ages so exceeding small. 
 
 No sooner did Governor Eisingh enter upon his office, than 
 he immediately cast his eyes upon the important post of Fort 
 Casimir, and formed the righteous resolution of taking it into 
 his possession. The only thing that remained to consider, was 
 the mode of carrying his resolution into effect; and here I must 
 do him the justice to say, that he exhibited a humanity rarely 
 to be met with among leadei*s, and w-hich I have never seen 
 equalled in modern times, excepting among the English, in 
 their glorious affair at Copenhagen. Willing to spare the 
 effusion of blood, and the miseries of open warfare, he benevo- 
 
210 
 
 A HIS TOE Y OF NEW TORK. 
 
 lently shunned everything like avowed hostihty or regular 
 siege, and resorted to the less glorious, but more merciful 
 expedient of treachery. 
 
 Under pretence, therefore, of paying a neighbourly visit to 
 General Van Poffenburgh, at his new post of Fort Casimir, he 
 made requisite preparation, sailed in great state up the Dela- 
 ware, displayed his flag with the most ceremonious punctilio, 
 and honoured the fortress with a royal salute, previous to 
 dropping anchor. The unusual noise awakened a veteran 
 Dutch sentinel, who was napping faithfully at his post, and 
 who, ha^dng suffered his match to go out, contrived to return 
 the compliment, by discharging his rusty musket with the 
 spark of a pipe, which he borrowed from one of his comrades. 
 The salute indeed would have been answered by the gims of the 
 fort, had they not imf ortunately been out of order, and the mag- 
 azine deficient in ammunition — accidents to which forts have 
 in all ages been liable, and w^hich were the more excusable 
 in the present instance, as Fort Casimir had only been erected 
 about two years, and General Van Poffenburgh, its mighty 
 commander, had been fully occupied with matters of much 
 greater importance. 
 
 Eisingh, highly satisfied with this courteous reply to his 
 salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew its com- 
 mander was marvellously delighted with these httle ceremo- 
 nials, which he considered as so many acts of homage paid 
 unto his greatness. ■ He then landed in great state, attended 
 by a suite of thirty men — a prodigious and vain-glorious 
 retinue, for a petty governor of a petty settlement, in those 
 days of primitive simplicity ; and to the full as great an army 
 as generally swells the pomp and marches in the rear of our 
 frontier commanders, at the present day. 
 
 The number, in fact, might have awakened suspicion, had 
 not the mind of the great Van Poffenburgh been so completely 
 engrossed with an all-pervading idea of himself, that he had 
 not room to admit a thought besides. In fact, he considered the 
 concourse of Risingh's followers as a compliment to himself— 
 so apt are great men to stand between themselves and the sun, 
 and completely eclipse the truth by their own shadow. 
 
 It may readily be imagined how much General Van Poffen- 
 burgh was flattered by a visit from so august a personage ; his 
 only embarrassment was, how he should receive him in such a 
 manner as to appear to the greatest advantage, and make the 
 most advantageous impression. The main guard was ordered 
 
A HISTORY OF NbJW-YORK. 
 
 211 
 
 immediately to turn out, and the arms and regimentals (of 
 wliich the garrison possessed full half-a-dozen suits) were 
 equally distributed among the soldiers. One tall lank fellow 
 appeared in a coat intended for a small man, the skirts of 
 which reached a little below his waist, the buttons were 
 between his shoulders, and the sleeves half-way to his wrists, 
 so that his hands lool^ed hke a couple of huge spades— and the 
 coat, not being large enough to meet in front, was linked 
 together by loops, made of a pair of red worsted garters. An- 
 other had an old cocked hat stuck on the back of his head, and 
 decorated with a bunch of cocks' tails — a third had a pair of 
 rusty gaiters hanging about his heels— while a fourth, who was 
 short and duck-legged, was equipped in a huge pair of the gen- 
 eral's cast-off breeches, which he held up with one hand, while 
 he grasped liis firelock with the other. The rest were accoutred 
 in similar style, excepting three graceless ragamuffins, who 
 had no shirts, and but a pair and a half of breeches between 
 them, wherefore they were sent to the black hole to keep them 
 
 ' out of view. There is nothing in which the talents of a pru- 
 dent conmiander are more completely testified, than in thus 
 setting matters off to the greatest advantage ; and it is for this 
 reason that our frontier posts of the present day (that of 
 
 I Niagara for example) display their best suit of regimentals on 
 the back of the sentinel who stands in sight of travellers. 
 
 His men being thus gallantly arrayed— those who lacked 
 muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and every man 
 being ordered to tuck in his shirt-tail and pull up his brogues 
 —General Van Poflenburgh first took a sturdy draught of 
 foaming ale, which, Hke the magnanimous More of Morehall,* 
 was his invariable practice on all gTcat occasions— which done, 
 he put himself at their head, ordered the pine planks, which 
 served as a draw-bridge, to be laid down, and issued fortli 
 from liis castle like a mighty giant just refreshed with wine. 
 But when the two heroes met, then began a scene of warlike 
 parade and chivalric courtesy that beggars all description— 
 Risingh, who, as I before hinted, was a shrewd, cunning poh- 
 tician, and had grown gray much before his time, in conse- 
 quence of liis craftiness, saw at one glance the ruhng passion 
 
 as soon as he rose, 
 
 To make liim stronj^ and mighty, 
 
 He drank by the tale, six pots of ale 
 And a quart of aqua-vita^." 
 
212 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 of the great Van Poffenburgh, and humoured hiin in all his 
 valorous fantasies. 
 
 Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front of 
 each other ; they carried arms and they presented arms ; they 
 gave the standing salute and the passing salute — they rolled 
 their drums and flourished their fifes, and they waved their 
 colours — they faced to the left, and they faced to the right, and 
 they faced to the right about— they wheeled forward, and they 
 wheeled backward, and they wheeled into echeUon — they 
 marched and they countermarched, by grand divisions, by 
 single divisions, and by sub-divisions— by platoons, by sections, 
 and by files— in quick time, in slow time, and in no time at 
 all : for, having gone through all the evolutions of two great 
 armies, including the eighteen manoeuvres of Dundas, having 
 exhausted all that they coidd recollect or imagine of mihtary 
 tactics, including sundry strange and irregular evolutions, the 
 lil^:e of wliich was never seen before nor since, excepting among 
 certain of our newly-raised militia, the two great commanders 
 and their respective troops came at length to a dead halt, com- 
 pletely exhausted by the toils of war. Never did two vahant 
 train-band captains, or two buskined theatric heroes, in the re- 
 nowned tragedies of Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other 
 heroical and fighting tragedy, marshal then* gallows-looking, 
 duck-legged, heavy-heeled myrmidons with more glory and 
 self -admiration. 
 
 These military compliments being finished. General Van 
 Poffenburgh escorted his illustrious visitor, with gi^eat cere- 
 mony, into the fort; attended Mm throughout the fortifica- 
 tions ; showed him the horn- works, crown- works, half -moons, 
 and various other outworks ; or rather the places where they 
 ought to be erected, and where they might be erected if he 
 pleased ; plainly demonstrating that it was a place of ' ' great 
 capability," and though at present but a httle redoubt, yet 
 that it evidently was a formidable fortress, in embryo. This 
 sui'vey over, he next had the whole garrison put under arms, 
 exercised and reviewed, and concluded by ordering the three 
 Bridewell birds to be hauled out of the black hole, brought 
 up to the halberts and soundly flogged for the amusement of 
 his visitor, and to convince him that he was a great discipli- 
 naricwi. 
 
 The cunning Eisingh, while he pretended to be struck dumb 
 outright, with the puissance of the great Van Poffenburgh, 
 took silent note of the incompetency of his p'ai-rison, of which 
 
A HISTORY OF li'EW.YOUK. 
 
 213 
 
 he gave a hint to his trusty followers, who tipped each other 
 the wink, and laughed most obstreperously— in their sleeves. 
 
 The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded, the 
 party adjourned to the table; for among his other great quali- 
 ties, the general was remarkably addicted to huge entei tain- 
 ments, or rather carousals, and in one afternoon's campaign 
 would leave more dead men on the field than he ever did in 
 the whole course of his military career, llany bulletins of 
 these bloodless victories do still remain on record; and the 
 whole province was once thrown in a maze by the return of 
 one of his campaigns ; wherein it was stated that though, like 
 Captain Bobadil, he had only twenty men to back him, yet in 
 the short space of six months he had conquered and utterly 
 annihilated sixty oxen, ninety hogs, one hundred sheep, ten 
 thousand cabbages, one thousand bushels of potatoes, one 
 hundred and fifty kilderkins of small-beer, two thousand 
 seven hundred and thirty-five pipes, seventy-eight pounds of 
 sugar-plums, and forty bars of iron, besides sundry small 
 meats, game, poultry, and garden stuff : — An achievement un- 
 paralleled since the days of Pantagruel and his all-devouring 
 army, and which showed that it was only necessary to let 
 belhpotent Van Poffenburgh and his garrison loose in an 
 enemy's country, and in a little while they would breed a 
 famine and starve all the inhabitants. 
 
 No sooner, therefore, had the general received the first in- 
 timation of the visit of Governor Eisingh, than he ordered a 
 great dinner to be prepared ; and privately sent out a detach- 
 ment of his most experienced veterans to rob all the hen- 
 roosts in the neighbourhood and lay the pig-sties under con- 
 tribution ; a service to which they had been long inured, and 
 which they discharged Avith such incredible zeal and prompti- 
 tude that the garrison table groaned under the weight of their 
 spoils. 
 
 I T\ish, with all my heart, my readers could see the valiant 
 Van Poffenburgh, as he presided at the head of the banquet ; 
 it was a sight worth beholding : — there he sat, in his greatest 
 glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like that famous wine-bib- 
 ber, Alexander, whose thirsty virtues he did most ably imitate 
 — teUing astounding stories of his hair-breadth adventures and 
 heroic exploits, at which, though all his auditors knew them 
 to be most incontinent and outrageous gasconadoes, yet did 
 they cast up their eyes in admiration and utter many inter- 
 jections of astonishment. Nor could the jrcneral pronoimce 
 
214 
 
 A IIISTOUY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 any thing that bore the remotest semblance to a joke, but the 
 stout Risingh would strike his brawny fist upon the table till 
 every glass rattled again, throwing himself back in the chair 
 and uttering gigantic peals of laughter, swearing most horribly 
 it was the best joke he ever heard in his life. — Thus all was rout 
 and revelry and hideous carousal within Fort Casimir, and 
 so lustily did Van Poffenburgh ply the bottle, that in less than 
 four short hours he made himself and his whole garrison, who 
 all sedulously emulated the deeds of theu- cliieftain, dead 
 drunk, and singing songs, quaffing bumpers, and drinking 
 patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long as a Welsh 
 pedigree or a plea in chancery. 
 
 No sooner did things come to this pass, than the crafty 
 Risingli and his Swedes, who had cunningly kept themselves 
 sober, rose on their entertamers, tied them neck and heels, and 
 took formal possession of the fort, and all its dependencies, in 
 the name of Queen Christina of Sweden : administering at the 
 same time an oath of allegiance to all the Dutch soldiers who 
 could be made sober enough to swallow it. Risingh then put 
 the fortification in order, appointed his discreet and vigilant 
 friend, Suen Scutz, a tall, wind-dried, water-drinking Swede, 
 to the command, and departed, bearing with him this truly 
 amiable garrison, and their puissant commander ; who, when 
 brought to himself by a soimd drubbing, bore no Httle resem- 
 blance to a "deboshed fish," or bloated sea-monster, caught 
 upon dry land. 
 
 The transportation of the garrison was done to prevent the 
 transmission of intelhgence to New-Amsterdam ; for, much as 
 the cunnmg Risingh exulted in his stratagem, he dreaded the 
 vengeance of the sturdy Peter Stuyvesant; whose name 
 spread as much terror in the neighbom^hood as did whilom 
 that of the unconquerable Scanderbeg among his scurvy eno 
 mies, the Turks. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SHOWING HOW PROFOUND SECRETS ARE OFTEN BROUGHT TO 
 LIGHT; WITH THE PROCEEDINGS OF PETER THE HEADSTRONG, 
 WHEN HE HEARD OF THE MISFORTUNES OF GENERAL VAN POF- 
 FENBURGH. 
 
 Whoever first described common fame, or rumour, as be- 
 longing to the sager sex, was a very owl for shrewdness. She 
 
A IJISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 215 
 
 has, in tiiith, cortain feminine qualities to an astonishing de- 
 gi'ee ; particularly that benevolent anxiety to take care of the 
 affairs of others, which lo^eps her continually hunting after 
 secrets, and gadding about proclaiming them. Whatever is 
 done openly and in the face of the world, she takes but tran- 
 sient notice of ; but whenever a transaction is done in a comer, 
 and attempted to be shrouded in mystery, then her goddess- 
 ship is at her wit's end to find it out, and takes a most mis- 
 chievous and lady-like pleasure in publishing it to the world. 
 
 It is this tmly feminine propensity that induces her con- 
 tinually to be prying into cabinets of princes, listening at the 
 key-holes of senate chambers, and peering through chinks and 
 crannies, when our worthy Congress are sitting with closed 
 doors, deliberating between a dozen excellent modes of ruining 
 the nation. It is this which makes her so obnoxious to all 
 wary statesmen and intriguing commanders— such a stum- 
 bhng-block to private negotiations and secret expeditions; 
 which she often betrays, by means and instruments which 
 never would have been thought of by any but a female head. 
 
 Thus it was in the case of the affair of Fort Casimir. No 
 doubt the cunning Risingh imagined, that by securing the 
 garrison he should for a long time prevent the history of its 
 fate from reaching the ears of the gallant Stuy vesant ; but his 
 exploit was blown to the world when he least expected it, and 
 by one of the last beings he would ever have suspected of en- 
 listing as trumpeter to the wide-mouthed deity. 
 
 This was one Dirk Schuiler, (or Skulker,) a kind of hanger- 
 on to the garrison ; Avho seemed to belong to nobody, and in a 
 manner to be self-outlawed. He was one of those vagabond 
 cosmopolites, who shark about the world as if they had no 
 right or business in it, and who infest the skirts of society like 
 poachers and interlopers. Every garrison and country village 
 has one or more scape-goats of this kind, whose hfe is a kind 
 of enigma, whose existence is without motive, who comes from 
 the Lord knows -where, who lives the Lord knows how, and 
 seems to be made for no otlier earthly purpose but to keep up 
 the ancient and honourable order of idleness. This vagrant 
 philosopher was supposed to have some Indian blood in his 
 veins, which was manifested by a certain Indian complexion 
 and cast of countenance ; but more especially by his propensi- 
 ties and habits. He was a tall, lank fellow, swift of foot and 
 long-winded. He was generally equipped in a half Indian 
 dress, with belt, leggings, and moccasons. His hair hung in 
 
216 
 
 A HISTORY OF JS'lCW-YOIlK. 
 
 straight gallows locks about his ears, and added not a little to 
 his sharking demeanour. It is an old remark, that persons of 
 Indian mixture are half civihzed, half savage, and half devil, 
 a third half bemg expressly provided for their particular con- 
 venience. It is for sunilar reasons, and probably with equal 
 truth, that the back-wood-men of Kentucky are styled hah 
 man, half horse, and half alligator, by the settlers on the Mis- 
 sissippi, and held accordingly in gi'eat respect and abhorrence. 
 
 The above character may have presented itself to the garri- 
 son as applicable to Dirk Schuiler, whom they familiarly 
 dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is, he acknowledged allegi- 
 ance to no one — was an utter enemy to work, holding it in no 
 manner of estimation — but lounged about the fort, depending 
 upon chance for a subsistence, getting drunk whenever he 
 could get liquor, and steahng whatever he could lay his hands 
 on. Every day or two he was sure to get a sound rib-roasting 
 for some of his misdemeanours, which, however, as it broke 
 no bones, he made very light of, and scrupled not to repeat the 
 offence, whenever another opportunity presented. Sometimes, 
 m consequence of some flagrant villainy, he would abscond 
 from the garrison, and be absent for a month at a time ; skulk- 
 ing about the woods and swamps, -with a long fowling-piece on 
 his shoulder, laying in ambush for game — or squatting himself 
 down on the edge of a pond catching fish for hours together, 
 and bearing no little resemblance to that notable bird ycleped 
 the mudpolie. "When he thought liis crunes had been forgot- 
 ten or forgiven, he would sneak back to the fort with a bundle 
 of skins, or a bunch of poultry, which perchance he had stolen, 
 and would exchange them for hquor, with which, having well 
 soaked his carcass, he would lay in the sun and enjoy all the 
 luxurious mdolence of that swmish philosopher, Diogenes. He 
 was the terror of all the farm-yards in the country, into wliich 
 he made fearful inroads; and sometimes he would make his 
 sudden appearance at the garrison at day-break, with the 
 whole neighbourhood at his heels, like a scoundrel thief of a 
 fox, detected in his maraudings and hunted to his hole. Such 
 was this Dirk Schuiler; and from the total indifference he 
 showed to the world or its concerns, and from his truly Indian 
 stoicism and taciturnity, no one would ever have dreamt that 
 he would have been the publisher of the treachery of Risingh. 
 
 When the carousal was going on, which proved so fatal to the 
 brave Van Poffenburgh and his watchful garrison, Dirk skulked 
 about from room to room, bemg a kind of privileged vagrant, 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 211 
 
 or useless hound, whom nobody noticed. But though a fellow 
 of few words, yet, like your taciturn people, his eyes and ears 
 were always open, and in the course of his prowUngs he over- 
 heard the whole plot of the Swedes. Dirk immediately settled 
 in his own mind how he should turn the matter to his own ad- 
 vantage. He played the perfect jack-of-both-sides — that is to 
 say, he made a prize of everything that came in his reach, 
 robbed both parties, stuck the copper-bound cocked-hat of the 
 puissant Van Poffenburgh on his head, whipped a huge pair of 
 Eisingh's jack-boots under his arms, and took to his heels, just 
 before the catastrophe and confusion at the garrison. 
 
 Finding himself completely dislodged from his haimt in this 
 quarter, he directed his flight to^vards his native place. New 
 Amsterdam, from whence he had formerly been obliged to ab- 
 scond precipitately, in consequence of misfortune in business — 
 that is to say, having been detected in the act of sheep-stealing. 
 After wandering many days in the woods, toihng through 
 swamps, fording brooks, swimming various rivers, and en- 
 countering a world of hardships, that would have lolled any 
 other being but an Indian, a back-wood-man, or the devil, he 
 at length arrived, half famished, and lank as a starved weasel, 
 at Communipaw, where he stole a canoe, and paddled over to 
 New-Amsterdam. Immediately on landing, he repaired to 
 Governor Stuyvesant, and in more words than he had ever 
 spoken before in the whole course of his life, gave an account 
 of the disastrous aifair. 
 
 On receiving these direful tidings, the valiant Peter started 
 from his seat - dashed the pipe he was smoking against the 
 back of the chimney — thrust a prodigious quid of tobacco into 
 his left cheek — pulled up his galligaskins, and strode up and 
 down the room, humming, as was customary with him when 
 in a passion, a hideous north-west ditty. But as I have before 
 shown, he was not a man to vent his spleen in idle vapouring. 
 iHis first measure after the paroxysm of wrath had subsided, 
 {was to stump up-stairs to a huge wooden chest, which sei^^ed 
 as his armory, from whence he drew forth that identical suit 
 of regimentals described in the preceding chapter. In these 
 portentous habihinents he arrayed himself, like Achilles in 
 the armour of Vulcan, maintaining all the while a most ap- 
 palling silence, knitting his brows, and drawing his breath 
 through his clenched teeth. Being hastily equipped, he strode 
 down into the parlour, jerked down his trusty sword from 
 over the fire-place, where it waa usually suspended ; but before- 
 
218 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEWTORK. 
 
 he gii'ded it on his thigh, he drew it from its scahbard, and as 
 his eye coursed along the rusty blade, a grim smile stole over 
 his iron visage — it was the first smile that had visited his coun- 
 tenance for five long weeks; but every one who beheld it, 
 prophesied that there would soon be warm work in the pra 
 vince! 
 
 Thus armed at all points, with grizzly war depictured in each 
 feature, his very cocked- hat assuming an air of uncommon de- 
 fiance, he instantly put himself upon the alert, and despatched 
 Antony Van Corlear hither and thither, this way and that 
 way, through all the muddy streets and crooked lanes of the 
 city, sunnnoning by sound of trumpet his trusty peers to as- 
 semble in instant council. This done, by way of expediting 
 matters, according to the custom of people in a hurry, he kept 
 in continual bustle, shifting from chair to chair, popping his 
 head out of every window, and stumping up and down stairs 
 with his wooden leg in such brisk and incessant motion, that, 
 as we are informed by an authentic historian of the times, the 
 continual clatter bore no small resemblance to the music of a 
 cooper hooping a flour-barrel. 
 
 A summons so peremptory, and from a man of the gover- 
 nor's mettle, was not to be trifled with; the sages forthwith 
 repaired to the council chamber, seated themselves with the 
 utmost tranquillity, and Hghting their long pipes, gazed with 
 unruffled composure on his excellency and his regimentals; 
 being, as all counsellors should be, not easily flustered, or 
 taken by surprise. The governor, looking around for a mo- 
 ment with a lofty and soldier-like air, and resting one hand on 
 the pummel of liis sword, and flinging the other forth in a free 
 and spirited manner, addressed them in a short, but soul- 
 stii'ring harangue. 
 
 I am extremely sorry that I have not the advantages of Li^^% 
 Thucydides, Plutarch, and others of my predecessors, who are 
 furnished, as I am told, with the speeches of all their great 
 emperors, generals, and orators, taken down in short-hand, by 
 the most accurate stenographers of the time ; whereby they \ 
 were enabled wonderfully to enrich their histories, and deh.i;ht 
 their readers with sublime strains of eloquence. Not having 
 such important auxiliaries, I cannot possibly pronounce what 
 w^as the tenor of Governor Stuyvesant's speech. I am bold, i 
 however, to say, from the tenor of his character, that he did 
 not wrap his rugged subject in silks and ermines, and other 
 sickly trickeries of phrase ; but spoke forth, like a man of nerve i 
 
A jnsTortr or- new-Tork. 
 
 210 
 
 and vigour, who scorned to shrink, in words, from those dan- 
 gers which he stood ready to encounter in very deed. This 
 much is certain, that he concluded by announcing his deter- 
 mination of leading on his troops in person, and routing these 
 costardmonger Swedes from their usurped quarters at Fort 
 Casimir. To this hardy resoUition such of his council as were 
 awake gave their usual signal of concurrence, and as to the 
 i rest who had fallen asleep about the middle of the harangue 
 (their "usual custom in the afternoon") — they made not the 
 least objection. 
 
 And now was seen in the fair city of New- Amsterdam a 
 i prodigious bustle and preparation for iron war. Eecruiting 
 i parties marched hither and thither, calling lustily upon all the 
 ' scrubs, the runagates, and tatterdemalions of the Manhattoes 
 and its vicinity, who had any ambition of sixpence a day, and 
 immortal fame into the bargain, to enlist in the cause of glory. 
 For I would have you note that your warlike heroes who 
 tmdge in the rear of conquerors, are generally of that illus- 
 trious class of gentlemen, who are equal candidates for the 
 army or the Bridewell — the halberts or the whipping-post — for 
 whom dame Fortune has cast an even die, whether they shall 
 make their exit by the sword or the halter— and whose deaths 
 shall, at all events, be a lofty example to their countrymen. 
 
 But notwithstanding all this martial rout and invitation, the 
 ranks of honour were but scantily supplied ; so averse were 
 the peaceful burghers of New-Amsterdam from enlisting in 
 foreign broils, or stirring beyond that home which rounded aD 
 their earthly ideas. Upon beholding this, the gi-eat Peter, 
 whose noble heart was aU on fire with war and sweet re- 
 venge, determined to wait no longer for the tardy assistance 
 of these oily citizens, but to muster up Ms merry men of the 
 Hudson ; who, brought up among woods and wilds and savage 
 beasts, like our yeomen of Kentucky, dehghted in nothing 
 so much as desperate adventures and perilous expeditions 
 through the wilderness. Thus resolving, he ordered his trusty 
 I squire, Antony Van Corlear, to have his state galley prepared 
 and duly victualled ; which being performed, he attended pub- 
 t lie service at the great church of St. Nicholas, like a tme and 
 pious governor, and then leaving peremptory orders with his 
 council to have the chivalry of the Manhattoes marshalled out 
 and appointed against his return, departed upon his recruiting 
 voyage, up the waters of the Hudson. 
 
220 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONTAINING PETER STTTYVESANT'S VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON, AND 
 THE WONDERS AND DELIGHTS OF THAT RENOWNED RIVER. 
 
 Now did the soft breezes of the south steal sweetly over the 
 beauteous face of nature, tempermg the panting heats of sum- 
 mer into genial and prolific warmth — when that miracle of 
 hardihood and cliivaMc virtue, the dauntless Peter Stuyve- 
 sant, spread his canvas to the wind, and departed from the fair 
 island of Manna-hata. The galley in which he embarked was 
 smnptuously adorned with pendants and streamers of gorge- 
 ous dyes, which fluttered gayly in the wind, or drooped their 
 ends in the bosom of the stream. The bow and poop of this 
 majestic vessel were gallantly bedight, after the rarest Dutch 
 fashion, with figures of little pursy Cupids with periwigs on 
 their heads, and bearing in their hands garlands of flowers, the 
 like of which are not to be found in any book of botany ; being 
 the matchless flowers which flourished in the golden age, and 
 exist no longer, unless it be in the imaginations of ingenious 
 carvers of wood and discolourers of canvas. 
 
 Thus rarely decorated, in style befitting the state of the 
 puissant potentate of the Manhattoes, did the galley of Peter 
 Stuyvesant launch forth upon the bosom of the lordly Hudson; 
 which, as it rolled its broad waves to the ocean, seemed to 
 pause for a while, and swell with pride, as if conscious of the 
 illustrious burthen it sustained. 
 
 But trust me, gentlefolk, far other was the scene presented 
 to the contemplation of the crew, from that which may be wit- 
 nessed at this degenerate day. Wildness and savage majesty 
 reigned on the borders of this mighty river — the hand of culti- 
 vation had not as yet laid down the dark forests, and tamed 
 the features of the landscape— nor had the frequent sail of 
 commerce yet broken in upon the profound and awful soli- 
 tude of ages. Here and there might be seen a rude wig-wam 
 perched among the chffs of the mountains, with its curling 
 column of smoke mounting in the transparent atmosphere — 
 but so loftily situated, that the whooping of the savage children, 
 gambolling on the margin of the dizzy heights, fell almost as 
 faintly on the ear as do the notes of the lark when lost in the 
 azure vault of heaven. Now and then, from the beethng brow 
 
A lIISTOItT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 221 
 
 of some rocky precipice, the wild deer would look timidly 
 down upon the splendid pageant as it passed below ; and then, 
 tossing his branching antlers in the air, would bound away into 
 the thickets of the forest. 
 
 Through such scenes did the stately vessel of Peter Stuyve- 
 Bant pass. Now did they skirt the bases of the rocky heights of 
 Jersey, which spring up like everlasting walls, reaching from 
 the waves unto the heavens ; and were fashioned, if traditions 
 may be believed, in times long past, by the mighty spirit 
 Manetho, to protect his favourite abodes from the unhallowed 
 eyes of mortals. Now did they career it gayly across the vast 
 expanse of Tappan Bay, whose wide extended shores present a 
 vast variety of delectable scenery — here the bold promontory, 
 crowned with embowering trees, advancing into the bay — 
 there the long woodland slope, sweeping up from the shore in 
 rich luxuriance, and terminating in the upland precipice— 
 while at a distance a long waving hne of rocky heights threw 
 their gigantic shades across the water. Now would they pass 
 where some modest little interval, opening among these stupen- 
 dous scenes, yet retreating as it were for protection into the 
 embraces of the neighbouring mountains, displayed a rural 
 paradise, fraught with sweet and pastoral beauties ; the velvet- 
 tufted lawn — the bushy copse — the tinkling rivulet, stealing 
 through the fresh and vivid verdure — on whose banks was 
 situated some little Indian village, or, perad venture, the rude 
 cabin of some sohtary hunter. 
 
 The different periods of the revolving day seemed each, with 
 cunning magic, to diffuse a different charm over the scene. 
 Now would the jovial sun break gloriously from the east, blaz- 
 ing from the summits of the hills, and sparkling the landscape 
 with a thousand dewy gems ; while along the borders of the 
 river were seen heavy masses of mist, which, like midnight 
 caitiffs, disturbed at his approach, made a sluggish retreat, 
 rolling in sullen reluctance up the mountains. At such times, 
 all was brightness and Hf e and gayety — the atmosphere seemed 
 of an indescribable pureness and transparency — the birds 
 broke forth in wanton madrigals, and the freshening breezes 
 wafted the vessel merrily on her course. But when the sun 
 sunk amid a flood of glory in the west, mantling the heavens 
 and the earth wdth a thousand gorgeous dyes— then all was 
 cahn, and silent, and magnificent. The late swelhng sail hung 
 hfelessly against the mast— the seamen with folded arms leaned 
 agauist the shrouds, lost in that involuntary musing which the 
 
222 
 
 A IIISTOIIY OF M'JW-l'OJlK. 
 
 sober grandeur of nature commands in the rudest of her chil- 
 dren. The vast bosom of the Hudson Avas Hke an unruffled 
 mirror, reflecting the golden Sfjlendour of the heavens, except- 
 ing that now and then a bark canoe would steal across its sur- 
 face, filled with painted savages, whose gay feathers glared 
 brightly, as perchance a lingering ray of the setting sun 
 gleamed upon them from the western mountains. 
 
 But when the hour of twilight spread its m?^gic mists around, 
 then did the face of nature assume a thousand fugitive charms, 
 which, to the worthy heart that seeks enjoyment in the glori- 
 ous works of its Maker, are inexpressibly captivating. Tho 
 mellow dubious light that prevailed, just served to tinge vn^h 
 illusive colours the softened features of the scenery. The de- 
 ceived but delighted eye sought vainly to discern, m the broad 
 masses of shade, the separating line between the land and 
 water ; or to distinguish the fading objects that seemed sink- 
 ing into chaos. Now did the busy fancy supply the feebleness 
 of \4sion, producing with industrious craft a fairy creation of 
 her own. Under her plastic wand the ban-en rocks frowned 
 upon the watery waste, in the semblance of lofty towers and 
 high embattled castles — trees assumed the direful terms of 
 mighty giants, and the inaccessible summits of the mountains 
 seemed peopled with a thousand shadowy beings. 
 
 Now broke forth from the shores the note? of an inmunera- 
 ble variety of insects, which filled the air with a strange but 
 not inharmonious concert — while ever and anon was heard the 
 melancholy plaint of the whip-poor-will, who, perched on some 
 lone tree, wearied the ear of night with his incessant mean- 
 ings. The mind, soothed into a hallowed melancholy, listened 
 with pensive stillness to catch and distinguish each sound that 
 vaguely echoed from the shore — now and then startled per- 
 chance by the whoop of some straggling savage, or the dreary 
 howl of a wolf, stealing forth upon his nightly prowhngs. 
 
 Thus happily did they pursue their course, until they entered 
 upon those awful defiles denominated The Highlands, where 
 it would seem that the gigantic Titans had erst waged their 
 impious war with heaven, piling up cliffs on chffs, and hurling 
 vast masses of rock in wild confusion. But in sooth, very 
 different is the history of these cloud-capped mountains. — These 
 in ancient days, before the Hudson poured his waters from the 
 lakes, formed one vast prison, within whose rocky bosom the 
 omnipotent Manetho confined the rebellious spirits who repined 
 at Ins control. Here, bound m adamantine chains, or jammed 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 223 
 
 in rifted pines, or crushed by ponderous rocks, they groaned 
 for many an age. At length the conquering Hudson, in his 
 iiTesistible career towards tlie ocean, burst open their prison- 
 house, rolling his tide triumphantly through its stupendous 
 ruins. 
 
 Still, however, do many of them lurk about their old abodes; 
 and these it is, according to venerable legends, that cause the 
 echoes which resound throughout these awful solitudes ; which 
 are nothing but their angry clamours, when any noise disturbs 
 the profoundness of their repose. For when the elements are 
 agitated by tempest, when the winds are up and the thunder 
 roUs, then horrible is the yelling and howling of these troubled 
 spirits, making the mountains to rebellow with their hideous 
 uproar; for at such times, it is said, they think the great 
 Manetho is returning once more to plunge them in gloomy 
 caverns, and renew their intolerable captivity. 
 
 But all these fair and glorious scenes were lost upon the gal- 
 lant Stuyvesant; nought occupied his mind but thoughts of 
 iron war, and proud anticipations of hardy deeds of arms. 
 Neither did his honest crew trouble their vacant heads with 
 any romantic speculations of the kind. The pilot at the helm 
 quietly smoked his pipe, thinking of nothing either past, pres- 
 ent, or to come — those of his comrades who were not industri- 
 ously snoring under the hatches were listening with open 
 mouths to Antony Van Corlear ; who, seated on the windlass, 
 was relating to them the marvellous history of those myriads 
 of fire-flies that sparkled like gems and spangles upon the 
 dusky robe of night. These, according to tradition, were 
 originally a race of pestilent sempiternous beldames, who peo- 
 pled these parts long before the memory of man ; being of that 
 abominated race emphatically called brimstones; and who, for 
 their innumerable sins against the children of men, and to 
 furnish an awful warning to the beauteous sex, were doomed 
 to infest the earth in the shape of these threatening and terri= 
 ble httle bugs; enduring the internal torments of that fire, 
 which they formerly carried in their hearts, and breathed forth 
 in their words ; but now are sentenced to bear about for ever — 
 in their tails. 
 
 And now am I going to tell a fact, which I doubt much my 
 readers will hesitate to believe ; but if they do, they are v/el- 
 come not to believe a word in this whole history, for nothing 
 which it contains is more true. It must be known then that 
 the nose of Antony the trumpeter was of a very lusty size, 
 
224 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TOItK. 
 
 strutting boldly from his countenance like a mountain of Gol- 
 conda; being sumptuously bedecked with rubies and otlier 
 precious stones — the true regalia of a king of good fellows, 
 which jolly Bacchus grants to all who bouse it heartily at the 
 flagon. Now thus it hapi^ened, that bright and early in the 
 morning, the good Antony having washed his burly visage, 
 ^was leaning over the quarter-raihng of the galley contemplat- 
 ing it in the glassy wave below — just at this moment, the 
 illustrious sun, breaking in all his splendour from behind one 
 of the high bluffs of the Highlands, did dart one of his most 
 potent beams full upon the refulgent nose of the sounder of 
 brass — the reflection of which shot straightway down, hissing 
 hot, into the water, and killed a mighty sturgeon that was 
 sporting beside the vessel! This huge monster being with in 
 finite labour hoisted on board, furnished a luxurious repast to 
 all the crew, being accounted of excellent fllavour, excepting 
 about the wound, where it smacked a httle of brimstone — and 
 this, on my veracity, was the first time that ever sturgeon was 
 eaten in these parts by Christian people.* 
 
 When this astonishing miracle came to be made known to 
 Peter Stuyvesant, and that he tasted of the unknown fish, he, 
 as may Avell be supposed, marvelled exceedingly; and as a 
 monument thereof, he gave the name of Antonyms Nose to a 
 stout promontory in the neighbourhood— and it has continued 
 to be called Antony's Nose ever since that time. 
 
 But hold— Whither am I wandering?— By the mass, if I at- 
 tempt to accompany the good Peter Stuyvesant on this voyage, 
 I shall never make an end, for never was there a voyage so 
 fraught with marvellous incidents, nor a river so abounding 
 with transcendent beauties, worthy of being severally recorded. 
 Even now I have it on the point of my pen to relate, how his 
 crew were most horribly frightened, on going on shore above 
 the Highlands, by a gang of merry, roistering de\als, frisking 
 and curveting on a huge flat rock, which projected into the 
 river— and w4iich is called the DuyveVs Dans-Kamer to this 
 very day. — But no! Diedrich Knickerbocker— it becomes thee 
 not to idle thus in thy historic wayfaring. 
 
 Eecollect that while dwelling with the fond garrulity of age 
 over these fairy scenes, endeared to thee by the recollections of 
 
 * The learned Hans Megapolensis, treating of the country about Alban}', in a 
 letter which was written some time after the settlement thereof, says: "There is 
 in the river great plenty of Sturgeon, which we Christians do not make use of; but 
 the Indians eat them greedilie." 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 225 
 
 thy youth, and the charms of a thousand legendary talcs 
 wliich beguiled the simple ear of thy childhood; recollect that 
 fcliou art trifling with those fleeting moments which should be 
 devoted to loftier themes. — Is not Time — relentless Time! — 
 shaking, with palsied hand, his almost exhausted hour-glass 
 before thee? — hasten then to pursue thy weary task, lest the 
 last sands be run, ere thou hast finished thy history of the 
 ]\Ianhattoes. 
 
 Let us then commit the dauntless Peter, his brave galley , 
 and his loyal crew, to the protection of the blessed St. Nicholas; 
 who, I have no doubt, will prosper him in his voyage, while 
 we await his return at the great city of New-Amsterdam. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DESCRIBING THE POWERFUL ARMY THAT ASSEMBLED AT THE 
 CITY OF NEW-AMSTERDAM — TOGETHER WITH THE INTERVIEW 
 BETWEEN PETER THE HEADSTRONG AND GENERAL VAN POF- 
 FENBURGH, AND PETER'S SENTIMENTS TOUCHING UNFORTUNATE 
 GREAT MEN. 
 
 While- thus the enterprising Peter was coasting, with flow- 
 ing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, and arousing all 
 the phlegmatic httle Dutch settlements upon its borders, a 
 great and puissant concourse of warriors was assembling at the 
 city of New- Amsterdam. And here that invaluable fragment 
 of antiquity, the Stuyvesant manuscript, is more than com- 
 monly particular; by which means I am enabled to record the 
 illustrious host that encamped itself in the public square in 
 front of the fort, at present denominated the BowUng-Green. 
 
 In the centre, then, was pitched the tent of the men of battle 
 of the Manhattoes, who being the inmates of the metropolis, 
 composed the Hfe-guards of the governor. These w^ere com- 
 manded by the valiant Stoffel Brinkerhoff, w^ho whilom had 
 acquired such immortal fame at Oyster Bay— they displayed 
 as a standard, a beaver rampant on a field of orange ; being 
 the arms of the province, and denoting the persevering indus- 
 try and the amphibious origin of the Nederlanders.* 
 
 * This was likewise the great seal of the New-Netherlands, as may still be seen in 
 ancient records. 
 
226 
 
 A 1!JST01:Y of ^'EW- YORK. 
 
 On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that re- 
 nowned Mynheer, Michael Paw,'^' who lorded it over the fair 
 regions of ancient Pavonia, and the lands away south, even 
 unto the Navesink mountains,! and was moreover patroon of 
 Gibbet Island. His standard was borne by his tmsty squire, 
 Cornelius Van Vorst; consisting of a huge oyster recumbent 
 upon a sea-green field; being the armorial bearings of his 
 favourite metropolis, Communipaw. He brought to the camp 
 a stout force of warriors, heavily aimed, being each clad in ten 
 pair of linsey-woolsey breeches, and overshadowed by broad- 
 brimmed beavers, with short pipes twisted in their hat-bands. 
 These were the men who vegetated in the mud along the 
 shores of Pavonia; being of the race of genuine copperheads, 
 and were fabled to have sprung from oysters. 
 
 At a little distance were encamped the tribe of warriors who 
 came from the neighbourhood of Hell-Gate. These were com- 
 manded by the Suy Dams, and the Van Dams, incontinent 
 hard swearers, as their names betoken— they were terrible- 
 looking fellows, clad in broad-skirted gaberdines, of that curi- 
 ous coloured cloth called thunder and hghtning — and bore as 
 a standard three Devil's-darning-needles, volant, in a flame- 
 coloured field. 
 
 Hard by w^as the tent of the men of battle from the marshy 
 borders of the Waale-Boght ]: and the country thereabouts— 
 these were of a sour aspect by reason that they hved on crabs, 
 which abound in these parts. They were the first institutors 
 of that honourable order of knighthood, called Fly market 
 shirks, and, if tradition speak true, did like^vise introduce the 
 far-famed step in dancing, called "double trouble." They 
 were commanded by the fearless Jacobus Varra Vanger, and 
 had moreover a jolly band of Breuckelen§ ferry-men, who per- 
 formed a brave concerto on conch-shells. 
 
 But I refrain from pursuing this minute description, which 
 
 * Besides what is related in the Stuyvesant MS., I have found mention made of this 
 illustrious Patroon in another manuscript, which says: " De Heer (or the squire) 
 3Iichael Paw, a Dutch subject, about 10th Aug., 1630, by deed purchased Statea 
 Island. N. B. The same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a colonic at Pavonia, 
 on the Jersey shore, opposite New- York, and his overseer, in 16.:,'6, was named 
 Coi-us Van Vorst— a person of the same name in 1769 owned Powle.\ Hook, and a 
 Iai-f?e fai-m at Pavonia, and is a lineal descendant from Van Vorst." 
 
 t So called from the Navesink tribe of Indians that inhabited these parts— at 
 present they are erroneously denominated the Neversink. or Neversuiik mountains. 
 
 X Since corrupted into the WaUubuuti lue bay wliere the Navy- Yard is situated. 
 
 % Now spelt Brool^yn. 
 
A UISTOUY OF NEW YORK, 
 
 221 
 
 goes on to describe the warriors of Bloemendael, and Wee- 
 hawk, and Hoboken, and sundry other places, well known in 
 history and song— for now does the sound of martial music 
 alarm the people of New- Amsterdam, sounding afar from be* 
 yond the walls of the city. But this alarm was in a httle 
 Avliile relieved ; for lo, from the midst of a vast cloud of dust, 
 fchey recognised the brimstone-coloured breeches, and splendid 
 silver leg, of Peter Stuyvesant, glaring in the sunbeams; and 
 beheld him approaching at the head of a formidable army, 
 which he had mustered along the banks of the Hudson. And 
 here the excellent, but anonymous writer of the Stuyvesant 
 manuscript, breaks out into a brave and glorious description of 
 the forces, as they defiled through the principal gate of the 
 city, that stood by the head of Wall-street. 
 
 First of all came the Van Bum m els, who inhabit the pleasant 
 borders of the Bronx — these were short fat men, wearing ex- 
 ceeding large trunk breeches, and are renowned for feats of 
 the trencher— they were the first inventors of suppawn or mush- 
 and-milk. — Close in their rear marched the Van Vlotens, of 
 KaatskiU, most horrible quaff ers of new cider, and arrant brag- 
 garts in their liquor. — After them came the Van Pelts, of Groodt 
 E^sopus, dexterous horsemen, mounted upon goodly switch- 
 tailed steeds of the Esopus breed— these were mighty hunters 
 of minks and musk-rats, whence came the word Peltry. — Then 
 the Van Nests, of Kinderhook. valiant robbers of birds' nests, 
 as their name denotes ; to these, if report may be believed, are 
 we indebted for the invention of slap-jacks, or buckwheat 
 cakes.— Then the Van Higginbottoms, of Wapping's creek; 
 these came armed with ferules and birchen rods, being a race 
 of schoolmasters, who first discovered the marvellous sympa- 
 thy between the seat of honour and the seat of intellect, and 
 that the shortest way to get knowledge into the head, was to 
 hammer it into the bottom. — Then the Van Grolls, of Antony's 
 Nose, who carried their liquor in fair round little pottles, by 
 reason they could not bouse it out of their canteens, having 
 such rare long noses. — Then the Gardeniers, of Hudson and 
 thereabouts, distinguished by many triumphant feats, such as 
 robbing watermelon patches, smoking rabbits out of their holes, 
 and the like ; and by being great lovers of roasted pig's tails ; 
 these were the ancestors of the renowned congressman of that 
 name. — Tlien the Van Hoesens, of Sing-Sing, great choristers 
 and players upon the jews-harp ; these marched two and two, 
 singing the gi'cat song of St. Nicholas. — Then the Couenho vens. 
 
228 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TOllK 
 
 of Sleepy Hollow; these gave birth to a jolly race of publi- 
 cans, who first discovered the magic artifice of conjuring a 
 quart of wine into a pint bottle.— Then the Van Kortlandts, 
 who hved on the wild banks of the Croton, and were great 
 killers of wild ducks, being much spoken of for their skill in 
 shooting with the long bow.— Then the Van Bunschotens, of 
 Nyack and Kakiat, who were the first that did ever kick with 
 the left foot; they were gallant bush-whackers and hunters of 
 raccoons by moonlight.— Then the Van Winkles, of Haerlem, 
 potent suckers of eggs, and noted for inmning of horses, and 
 running up of scores at taverns ; they were the first that ever 
 winked with both eyes at once. — Lastly came the Knicker- 
 bockers, of the great town of Schaghticoke, where the folk 
 lay stones upon the houses in windy w-eather, lest they should 
 be blown away. These derive their name, as some say, from 
 Knickei% to shake, and Beker, a goblet, indicating thereby that 
 they were sturdy toss-pots of yore ; but, in truth, it was de- 
 rived from Knicker, to nod, and Boeken, books ; plainly mean- 
 ing that they were gi-eat nodders or dozers over books — from 
 them did descend the writer of this history. 
 
 Such was the legion of sturdy bush-beaters that poured in at 
 the grand gate of New- Amsterdam ; the Stuyvesant manuscript 
 indeed speaks of many more, whose names I omit to mention, 
 seeing that it behoves me to hasten to matters of greater mo- 
 ment. Nothing could surpass the joy and martial pride of the 
 lion-hearted Peter, as he reviewed this mighty host of warriors, 
 and he deterixdned no longer to defer the gratification of his 
 much-wished-ior revenge upon the scoundrel Swedes at Fort 
 Casimir. 
 
 But before I hasten to record those immatchable events, 
 which will be found in the sequel of this faithful history, 
 let me pause to notice the fate of Jacobus Van Poffen- 
 burgh, the discomfited commander-in-chief of the armies of 
 the New-Netherlands. Such is the inherent uncharitableness 
 of human nature, that scarcely did the news become pubhc 
 of his deplorable discomfiture at Fort Casimir, than a thou- 
 sand scurvy rumoui^ were set afloat in New- Amsterdam, 
 wherein it was insinuated, that he had in reality a treacher- 
 ous understanding with the Swedish commander; that he had 
 long been in the practice of privately communicating with 
 the Swedes; together with divers hints about "secret service 
 money :"— to all which dccidly charges I do not ^ve a jot more 
 credit than I think they deserve. 
 
A HISTOllY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 229 
 
 Certain it is, that the general vindicated his character by the 
 most vehement oaths and protestations, and put every man 
 out of the ranks of honour who dared to doubt his integrity. 
 Moreover, on returning to New- Amsterdam, he paraded up and 
 down the streets with a crew of hard swearers at his heels — 
 sturdy bottle companions, whom he gorged and fattened, and 
 who were ready to bolster him through all the courts of justice 
 —heroes of his own kidney, fierce- whiskered, broad-shouldered, 
 colbrand-looking swaggerers— not one of whom but looked as 
 though he could eat up an ox, and pick his teeth with the horns. 
 These life-guard men quarrelled all his quarrels, were ready 
 to fight all his battles, and scowled at every man that turned 
 up liis nose at the general, as though they would devour him 
 alive. Their conversation was interspersed with oaths like 
 minute-guns, and every bombastic rodomontado was rounded 
 off by a thundering execration, like a patriotic toast honoured 
 with a discharge of artillery. 
 
 All these valorous vapourings had a considerable effect in 
 convincing certain profound sages, many of whom began to 
 think the general a hero of unutterable loftiness and magna- 
 nimity of soul, particularly as he was continually protesting on 
 the honour of a soldier — a marvellously high-sounding assevera- 
 tion. Nay, one of the members of the council went so far as 
 to propose they should immortahze him by an imperishable 
 statute of plaster of Paris. 
 
 But the vigilant Peter the Headstrong was not thus to be de- 
 ceived. — Sending privately for the commander-in-chief of all 
 the armies, and having heard all his story, garnished with the 
 customary pious oaths, protestations, and ejaculations — "Har- 
 kee, comrade," cried he, "though by your own account you 
 are the most brave, upright, and honourable man in the whole 
 province, yet do you he under the misfortune of being damna- 
 bly traduced, and immeasurably despised. Now, though it is 
 certainly hard to punish a man for his misfortunes, and though 
 it is very possible you are totally innocent of the crimes laid to 
 your charge, yet as Heaven, at present, doubtless for some 
 wise purpose, sees fit to withhold all proofs of your innocence, 
 far be it from me to counteract its sovereign will. Besides, I 
 cannot consent to venture my armies with a commander whom 
 they despise, or to trust the welfare of my people to a champion 
 whom they distrust. Retire, therefore, my friend, from the 
 irksome toils and cares of public life, with this comforting re- 
 flection—that if guilty, you are but enjoying your just reward 
 
230 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 —and if innocent, you are not the first great and good man 
 who has most wrongfully been slandered and maltreated in 
 this wicked world— doubtless to be better treated in a better 
 woiid, where there shall be neither error, calumny, nor perse- 
 cution. In the meantune let me never see your face again, for 
 I have a horrible antipathy to the countenances of unfortunate 
 great men like yourself." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH THE AUTHOR DISCOURSES VERY INGENUOUSLY OF HIM- 
 SELF—AFTER WHICH IS TO BE FOUND MUCH INTERESTING HIS- 
 TORY ABOUT PETER THE HEADSTRONG AND HIS FOLLOWERS. 
 
 As my readers and myself are about entering on as many 
 perils as ever a confederacy of meddlesome knights-errant 
 wilfully ran their heads into, it is meet that, like those hardy 
 adventurers, we should join hands, bury all differences, and 
 swear to stand by one another, in weal or woe, to the end 
 of the enterprise. ^ly readers must doubtless perceive how 
 completely I have altered my tone and deportment, smce we 
 first set out together. I warrant they then thought me a 
 crabbed, cynical, impertinent httle son of a Dutchman, for I 
 scarcely ever gave them a civil word, nor so much as touched 
 my beaver, when I had occasion to address them. But as we 
 jogged along together, in the high-road of my history, I 
 gi*adually began to relax, to grow more courteous, and oc- 
 casionally to enter into familiar discourse, until at length I 
 came to conceive a most social, companionable, kind regard 
 for them. This is just my way — I am always a Kttle cold 
 and reserved at first, particularly to people whom I neither 
 know nor care for, and am only to be completely won by 
 long intimacy. 
 
 Besides, why should I have been sociable to the crowd of 
 how-d'ye-do acquaintances that flocked around me at my first 
 appearance? Many were merely attracted by a new face; and 
 having stared me fuU in the title-page, walked off without say- 
 ing a word; while others lingered yawningly through the 
 preface, and having gratified their short-hved curiosity, soon 
 dropped off one by one. But more especially to try theu^ met- 
 
A UI8T011Y OF NEW- TO UK. 
 
 231 
 
 tie, I had recourse to an expedient, similar to one which we are 
 told was used by the peerless flower of chivalry. King Arthur ; 
 who, before he admitted any knight to his intimacy, first re- 
 quii'ed that he should show himself superior to danger or 
 hardships, by encountering unheard-of mishaps, slaying somo 
 dozen giants, vanquisliing wicked enchantere, not to say a 
 word of dwarfs, hippogriffs, and fiery dragons. On a similar 
 principle, I cunningly led my readers, at the first sally, into 
 two or three knotty chapters, where they were most wofully 
 belaboured and buffeted by a host of pagan philosopliers and 
 infidel writers. Though naturally a very grave man, yet could 
 I scarce refrain from smiling outright at seeing the utter con- 
 fusion and dismay of my valiant cavaHers — some dropped down 
 dead (asleep) on the field ; others thi-ew down my book in the 
 middle of the first chapter, took to their heels, and never ceased 
 scampering until they had fairly run it out of sight ; when they 
 stopped to take breath, to tell their friends what troubles they 
 had undergone, and to warn all others from venturing on so 
 thankless an expedition. Every page thinned my ranks more 
 and more ; and of the vast multitude that first set out, but a 
 comparatively few made shift to survive, in exceedingly bat- 
 tered condition, through the five introductory chapters. 
 
 What, then! would you have had me take such sunsliine, 
 faint-hearted recreants to my bosom at our first acquaintance? 
 No — no ; I reserved my friendship for those who deserved it, 
 for those who imdauntedly bore me company, in spite of diSB.- 
 culties, dangers, and fatigues. And now, as to those who ad- 
 here to me at present, I take them affectionately by the hand. 
 — Worthy and thrice-beloved readers! brave and well-tried 
 comrades ! who have faithfully followed my footsteps through, 
 all my wanderings — I salute you from my heart — I pledge my- 
 self to stand by you to the last ; and to conduct you (so Heaven 
 speed this trusty weapon which I now hold between my fin- 
 gers) triumphantly to the end of this our stupendous under- 
 taking. 
 
 But, hark ! while we are thus talking, the city of New-Am^ 
 sterdam is in a bustle. Tlie host of warriors encamped in the 
 Bowling-Green are stril^ing their tents ; the brazen tnunpct of 
 Antony Van Corlear makes the welkin to resound ^vith porten- 
 tous clangour — the drums beat— the standards of the Manhat- 
 toes, of Hell-Gate, and of Michael Paw, wave proudly in the 
 air. And now behold where the mariners are busily employed 
 hoisting the sails of yon topsail schooner, and those clump-built 
 
232 
 
 A HISTORY OF NKW-TORK. 
 
 sloops, which are to waft the army of the Nederlanders to 
 gather immortal honours on the Delaware 1 
 
 The entire population of the city, man, woman, and child, 
 turned out to behold the chivalry of New-Amsterdam, as it 
 paraded the streets pre\^ous to embarkation. Many a handker- 
 chief was waved out at the windows ; many a fair nose was 
 blown in melodious sorrow, on the mournful occasion. The 
 grief of the fair dames and beauteous damsels of Granada coidd 
 not have been more vociferous on the banishment of the {gal- 
 lant tribe of Abencerrages, than was that of the kind hearted 
 fair ones of New- Amsterdam on the departure of their intrepid 
 warriors. Every love-sick maiden fondly crammed the pock- 
 ets of her hero with gingerbread and doughnuts — many a cop- 
 per ring was exchanged and crooked sixpence broken, in pledge 
 of eternal constancy — and there remain extant to this day some 
 love-verses written on that occasion, sufficiently crabbed and 
 incomprehensible to confound the whole universe. 
 
 But it was a moving sight to see the buxom lasses, how they 
 hung about the doughty Antony Van Corlear — for he was a 
 jolly, rosy-faced, lusty bachelor, fond of his joke, and ^vithal a 
 desperate rogue among the women. Fain would they have 
 kept him to comfort them while the army was away ; for be- 
 sides what I have said of him, it is no more than justice to add, 
 that he was a kind-hearted soul, noted for his benevolent at- 
 tentions in comforting disconsolate wives during the absence 
 of their husbands — and this made him to be very much re- 
 garded by the honest burghers of the city. But nothing could 
 keep the valiant Antony from following the heels of the old 
 governor, whom he loved as he did his very soul — so, embrac- 
 ing all the young \touws, and giving every one of them that 
 had good teeth and rosy hps, a dozen hearty smacks, he de- 
 parted loaded with their kind wishes. 
 
 Nor was the departure of the gallant Peter among the least 
 causes of pubhc distress. Though the old governor was by no 
 means indulgent to the follies and waywardness of his subjects, 
 yet some how or other he had become strangely popular among 
 the people. There is something so captivating in personal 
 bravery, that, with the common mass of mankind, it takes the 
 lead of most other merits. The simple folk of New- Amsterdam 
 looked upon Peter Stuyvesant as a prodigy of valour. His 
 wooden leg, that trophy of his martial encounter, was regarded 
 with reverence and admiration. Every old burgher had a 
 budget of miraculous stories to tell about the exploits of Hard- 
 
A IlISTOnT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 233 
 
 kopping Piet, wherewith he regaled his children of a long win- 
 ter night; and on which he dwelt with as much delight and 
 exaggeration, as do our honest country yeomen on the hardy 
 adventures of old General Putnam (or as he is familiarly 
 termed, Old Put.) during our glorious revolution. Not an in- 
 dividual but verily believed the old governor was a match for , 
 Belzebub himself ; and there was even a story told, with great 
 mystery, and under the rose, of his having shot the devil with 
 a silver bullet, one dark, stormy night, as he was saihng in a 
 canoe through Hell-Gate.— But this I do not record as being an 
 absolute fact — perish the man who would let fall a drop to dis- 
 colour the pure stream of history ! 
 
 Certain it is, not an old woman in New- Amsterdam but con- 
 sidered Peter Stuyvesant as a tower of strength, and rested 
 satisfied that the public welfare was secure so long as he was 
 in the city. It is not surprising, then, that they looked upon 
 his departure as a sore affliction. With heavy hearts they 
 dragged at the heels of his troop, as they marched down to the 
 river side to embark. The governor, from the stern of his 
 schooner, gave a short, but truly patriarchal address to his 
 citizens ; wherein he recommended them to comport like loyal 
 and peaceable subjects — to go to church regularly on Sundays, 
 and to mind their business all the week besides. — That the 
 women should be dutiful and affectionato to their husbands — 
 looking after nobody's concerns but their own : eschewing all 
 gossipings and morning gaddings —and carrying short tongues 
 and long petticoats.— That the men should abstain from inter- 
 meddling in public concerns, intrusting the cares of govern- 
 ment to the officers appointed to support them — staying at 
 home like good citizens, m.aking money for themselves, and 
 getting children for the benefit of their country. That the 
 burgomasters should look well to the public interest— not op- 
 pressing the poor, nor indulging the rich — not tasking their 
 sagacity to devise new laws; but faithfully enforcing those 
 which were already made — rather bending their attention to 
 prevent evil than to punish it; ever recollecting that civil 
 magistrates should consider themselves more as guardians of 
 public morals, than rat-catchers employed to entrap pubhc 
 dehnquents. Finally, he exhorted them, one and all, high and 
 low, rich and poor, to conduct themselves as iceJl as they 
 could; assuring them that if they faithfully and conscien- 
 tiously comphed with this golden rule, there was no danger 
 but that they would all conduct themselves well enough.— This 
 
284 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 done, he gave them a paternal benediction ; the sturdy Antony- 
 sounded a most loving farewell with his trumpet, the jolly 
 crews put up a shout of triumph, and the invincible armada 
 swept off proudly down the bay. 
 
 The good people of New- Amsterdam crowded down to the 
 Battery — that blest resort, from whence so many a tender 
 prayer has been wafted, so many a fair hand waved, so many 
 a tearful look been cast by love-sick damsels, after the lessen- 
 ing bark, bearing her adventurous swain to distant climes. 
 Here the populace watched with straining eyes the gallant 
 squadron, as it slowly floated down the bay, and when the in- 
 tervening land at the Narrows shut it from their sight^ 
 gradually dispersed with silent tongues and downcast coun 
 tenances. 
 
 A heavy gloom hung over the late busthng city. — Tlie honest 
 burghers smoked their pipes in profound thoughthilness, cast- 
 ing many a wistful look to the weathercock, on the church of 
 Saint Nicholas ; and all the old women, having no longer the 
 presence of Peter Stuyvesant to hearten them, gathered their 
 children home, and barricadoed the doors and windows every 
 evening at'sun-down. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the armada of the sturdy Peter proceeded 
 prosperously on its voyage, and after encountermg about as 
 many storms, and waterspouts, and whales, and other horrore 
 and phenomena, as generally befall adventurous landsmen, in 
 perilous voyages of the kind; and after undergoing a severe 
 scouring from that deplorable and unpitied malady called sea- 
 sickness, the whole squadron arrived safely in the Delaware. 
 
 Without so much as dropping anchor and giving his wearied 
 ships time to breathe after labouring so long in the ocean, the 
 intrepid Peter pursued his course up the Delaware, and made 
 a sudden appearance before Fort Casimir. —Having summoned 
 the astonished garrison by a terrific blast from the trumpet of 
 the long-winded Van Corlear, he demanded m a tone of thun- 
 der an instant surrender of the fort. To this demand, Suen 
 Scutz, the wind-dried commandant, repHed in a shrill, whiffling 
 voice, which, by reason of his extreme spareness, sounded hko 
 the wind whistling through a broken bellows — "that he had 
 no very strong reasons for refusing, except that the demand 
 was particularly disagreeable, as he had been ordered to main- 
 tain his post to the last extremity." He requested time, there- 
 fore, to consult with Governor Risingh, and proposed a truce 
 for that purpose. 
 
A HISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 235 
 
 The choleric Peter, indignant at having his rightful fort so 
 treacherously taken from him, and thus pertinaciously with- 
 held, refused the proposed armistice, and swore by the pipe 
 of St. Nicholas, which like the sacred fire was never extin- 
 guished, that unless the fort were surrendered in ten minutes, 
 he would incontinently storm the works, make all the garrison 
 run the gauntlet, and split their scoundrel of a commander 
 hke a pickled shad. To give this menace the greater effect, he 
 drew forth his trusty sword, and shook it at them with such a 
 fierce and vigorous motion, that doubtless if it had not been 
 exceeding rusty, it would have lightened terror into the eyes 
 and hearts of the enemy. He then ordered his men to bring 
 a broadside to bear upon the fort, consisting of two swivels, 
 three muskets, a long duck fowling-piece, and two brace of 
 horse-pistols. 
 
 In the meantime the sturdy Van Corlear marshalled all 
 his forces, and commenced his warlike operations. Distending 
 bis cheeks like a very Boreas, he kept up a most horrific 
 twanging of his trumpet — the lusty choristers of Sing-sing 
 broke forth into a hideous song of battle— the warriors of 
 Breuckelen and the Wallabout blew a potent and astounding 
 blast on their conch-shells, altogether forming as outrageous a 
 concerto as though five thousand French orchestras were dis- 
 playing their skill in a modern overture. 
 
 Whether the formidable front of war thus suddenly pre- 
 sented, smote the garrison with sore dismay — or whether the 
 concluding terms of the summons, which mentioned that he 
 should surrender "at discretion" were mistaken by Suen 
 Scutz, who, though a Swede, was a very considerate, easy- 
 tempered man — as a compliment to his discretion, I will not 
 take upon me to say ; certain it is, he found it impossible to 
 resist so courteous a dema,nd. Accordingly, in the very nick 
 of time, just as the cabin-boy had gone after a coal of fire, to 
 discharge the swivel, a chamade was beat on the rampart, by 
 the only drum in the garrison, to the no small satisfaction of 
 both pai-ties; who, notwithstanding their great stomach for 
 fighting, had full as good an inclination to eat a quiet dinner, 
 as to exchange black ej^es and bloody noses. 
 
 Thus did this impregnable fortress once more return to the 
 domination of their High Mightinesses ; Scutz and his garrison 
 of twenty men were allowed to march out with the honours of 
 war, and the victorious Peter, who was as generous as brave, 
 permitted them to keep possession of all their arms and am- 
 
236 
 
 A niSTORT OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 munition— the same on inspection being f omid totally unfit fol 
 service, having long rusted in the magazine of the fortress, 
 even before it was wrested by the Swedes from the magnani- 
 mous, but windy Van Poffenburgh. But I must not omit to 
 mention, that the governor was so well pleased with the ser- 
 vices of his faithful Squire Van Corlear, in the reduction of 
 this great fortress, that he made him on the spot lord of a 
 goodly domain in the vicinity of New-Amsterdam — which 
 goes by the name of Corlear's Hook unto this very day. 
 
 The unexampled hberality of the vahant Stuyvesant to- 
 wards the Swedes occasioned great siu-prise in the city of 
 New-Amsterdam — nay, certain of these factious individuals, 
 who had been enlightened by the pohtical meetings that pre- 
 vailed during the days of William the Testy, but who had 
 not dared to mdulge their meddlesome habits under the eye of 
 their present ruler, now emboldened by his absence, dared 
 even to give vent to their censures in the street. Murmurs 
 were heard in the very comicil chamber of New- Amsterdam ; 
 and there is no knowing whether they would not have broken 
 out into downright speeches and invectives, had not Peter 
 Stuyvesant privately sent home his walking-staff, to be laid as 
 a mace on the table of the council chamber, in the midst of Ms 
 counsellors ; who, hke wise men, took the hint, and for ever 
 after held their peace. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SHOWING THE GREAT ADVANTAGE THAT THE AUTHOR HAS OVER 
 HIS READER IN TIME OP BATTLE — TOGETHER WITH DIVERS POR- 
 TENTOUS MOVEMENTS, WHICH BETOKEN THAT SOMETHING TER- 
 RIBLE IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 
 
 Like as a mighty alderman, when at a corporation feast the 
 first spoonful of turtle soup salutes his palate, feels his impa- 
 tient appetite but tenfold quickened, and redoubles his vigor- 
 ous attacks upon the tureen, while his voracious eyes, project- 
 ing from his head, roll greedily round, devouring every thing 
 at table — so did the mettlesome Peter Stuyvesant feel that in- 
 tolerable hunger for martial glory, which raged ^vithin his 
 very bowels, inflamed by the capture of Fort Casimir, and 
 nothing could allay it but the conquest of aU New-Sweden, 
 
A J IIS TOE Y OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 237 
 
 No sooner, therefore, had he secured his conquest, than ho 
 stumped resolutely on, flushed with success, to gather fresh 
 laurels at Fort Christina.* 
 
 This was the grand Swedish post, established on a small 
 river (or as it is improperly termed, creek) of the same name ; 
 and here that crafty Governor Jan Risingh lay grimly drawn 
 up, like a gray -bearded spider in the citadel of his web. 
 
 But before we hurry into the direful scenes that must attend 
 the meeting of two such potent chieftains, it is advisable that 
 we pause for a moment, and hold a kind of warlike council. 
 Battles should not be rushed into precipitately by the historian 
 and his readers, any more than by the general and his soldiers. 
 The great commanders of antiquity never engaged the enemy, 
 without previously preparing the minds of their followers by 
 animating harangues ; spiriting them up to heroic feelings, as- 
 suring them of the protection of the gods, and inspiring them 
 with a confidence in the prowess of their leaders. So the his- 
 torian should awaken the attention and enhst the passions of 
 his readers, and having set them all on fire with the impor- 
 tance of his subject, he should put himself at their head, flour- 
 ish his pen, and lead them on to the thickest of the fight. 
 
 An illustrious example of this rule may be seen in that mir- 
 ror of historians, the immortal Thucydides. Having arrived 
 at the breaking out of the Peloponnesian war, one of his com- 
 mentators observes, that "he soimds the charge in all the dis- 
 position and spirit of Homer. He catalogues the allies on both 
 sides. He awakens our expectations, and fast engages our at- 
 fcention. All mankind are concerned in the important point 
 now going to be decided. Endeavours are made to disclose fu- 
 turity. Heaven itself is interested in the dispute. The earth 
 totters, and nature seems to labour with the great event. This 
 is his solemn subhme manner of setting out. Thus he magni- 
 fies a war between two, as Rapin styles them, petty states; 
 and thus artfully he supports a little subject, by treating it in 
 a great and noble method." 
 
 In like manner, having conducted my readers into the very 
 teeth of peril— having followed the adventurous Peter and his 
 band into foreign regions— surrounded by foes, and stunned by 
 the horrid din of arms — at this important moment, while dark- 
 ness and doubt hang o'er each coming chapter, I hold it meet 
 
 * This is at present a flourishing town, called Christiana, or Christeen, about 
 tfairty-seven miles from Philadelphia, on the post-roo/J to Baltimore. 
 
238 
 
 A niSTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 to harangue them, and prepare them for the events that are to 
 follow. 
 
 And here I would premise one great advantage which, as the 
 historian, I possess over my reader ; and this it is, that though 
 I cannot save the life of my favourite hero, nor absolutely 
 contradict the event of a battle, (both which liberties, though 
 often taken by the French writers of the present reign, I hold 
 to be utterly unworthy of a scrupulous historian,) yet I can 
 now and then make him to bestow on his enemy a sturdy 
 back-stroke suflScient to fell a giant ; though, in honest truth, 
 he may never have done any thing of the kind — or I can drive 
 his antagonist clear round and round the field, as did Homer 
 make that fine fellow Hector scamper like a poltroon round 
 the walls of Troy ; for which, if ever they have encountered 
 one another in the Elysian fields, I'll warrant the prince of 
 poets has had to make the most humble apology. 
 
 I am aware that many conscientious readers will be ready to 
 cry out ' ' foul play !" whenever I render a httle assistance to 
 my hero— but I consider it one of those privileges exercised by 
 historians of all ages, and one which has never been disputed. 
 In fact, a historian is, as it were, bound in honour to stand by 
 his hero — the fame of the latter is intrusted to his hands, and 
 it is his duty to do the best by it he can. Never was there a 
 general, an admiral, or any other commander, who, in giving 
 an account of any battle he had fought, did not sorely bela- 
 bour the enemy ; and I have no doubt that, had my heroes 
 written the history of their own achievements, they would 
 have dealt much harder blows than any that I shaU recount. 
 Standing forth, therefore, as the guardian of their fame, it be- 
 hoves me to do them the same justice they would have done 
 themselves; and if I happen to be a httle hard upon the 
 Swedes, I give free leave to any of their descendants, who 
 may write a history of the State of Delaware, to take fair 
 fetaliation, and belabour Peter Stuyvesant as hard as they 
 please. 
 
 Therefore stand by for broken heads and bloody noses !— my 
 pen hath long itched for a battle — siege after siege have I car- 
 ried on without blows or bloodshed ; but now I have at length 
 got a chance, and I vow to Heaven and St. Nicholas, that, let 
 the chronicles of the time say what they please, neither Sal- 
 lust, Livy, Tacitus, Polybius, nor any other historian, did ever 
 record a fiercer fight than that in which my valiant chief taina 
 are now about to engage. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 230 
 
 And you, oh most excellent readers, whom, for your faith- 
 ful adherence, I could cherish in the warmest corner of my 
 heart— be not uneasy — trust the fate of our favourite Stuyve- 
 sant to me — for by the rood, come what may, I'll stick by Hard- 
 kopping Piet to the last; I'll make him drive about these losels 
 vile, as did the renowned Launcelot of the lake, a herd of re- 
 creant Cornish knights — and if he does fall, let me never draw 
 my pen to fight another battle, in behalf of a brave man, if 1 
 don't make these lubberly Swedes pay for it. 
 
 No sooner had Peter Stuy vesant arrived before Fort Chris- 
 tina than he proceeded without delay to intrench himself, and 
 immediately on running his first parallel, despatched Antony 
 Van Corlear to summon the fortress to surrender. Van Cor- 
 lear was received with aU due formahty, hoodwinked at the 
 portal, and conducted through a pestiferous smeU of salt fish 
 and onions, to the citadel, a substantial hut, built of pine logs. 
 His eyes were here uncovered, and he found himself in the 
 august presence of Governor Risingh. This chieftain, as I 
 have before noted, was a very giantly man ; and was clad in a 
 coarse blue coat, strapped round the waist with a leathern 
 belt, which caused the enormous skirts and pockets to set ofi 
 with a very warlike sweep. His ponderous legs were cased 
 in a pair of foxy -coloured jack-boots, and he was straddling in 
 the attitude of the Colossus of Rhodes, before a bit of broken 
 looking-glass, shaving himself with a villainously dull razor. 
 This afilicting operation caused him to make a series of hor- 
 rible grimaces, that heightened exceedingly the grizzly terrors 
 of his visage. On Antony Van Corlear 's being announced, the 
 grim commander paused for a moment, in the midst of one ol 
 his most hard-favoured contortions, and after eyeing him as- 
 kance over his shoulder, with a kind of snarling grin on hia 
 countenance, resumed his labours at the glass. 
 
 This iron harvest being reaped, he turned once more to the 
 trumpeter, and demanded the purport of his errand. Antony 
 Van Corlear delivered in a few words, being a kind of short- 
 hand speaker, a long message from his excellency, recounting 
 the whole history of the province, with a recapitulation of 
 grievances, and enumeration of claims, and concluding with a 
 peremptory demand of instant surrender; which done, he 
 turned aside, took his nose between his thumb and finger, and 
 blew a tremendous blast, no* unlike the flourish of a trumpet 
 of defiance —which it had doubtless learned from a long and 
 intimate neighbourhood with that melodious insti-ument 
 
240 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 Governor Risingh heard him through, trumpet and all, but 
 with infinite impatience; leaning at times, as was his usual 
 custom, on the pommel of his sword, and at times twirhng a 
 huge steel watch-chain, or snapping his fingers. Van Corlear 
 having finished, he bluntly replied, that Peter Stuyvesant and 
 
 his smnmons might go to the d h whither he hoped to send 
 
 him and his crew of ragamuffins before supper-time. Then 
 Unsheathing his brass-hilted sword, and throwing away the 
 scabbard—" Fore gad," quod he, "but I will not sheathe thee 
 again, until I make a scabbard of the smoke-dried, leathern 
 hide of this runagate Dutchman." Then having flung a fierce 
 defiance in the teeth of his adversary, by the lips of his mes- 
 senger, the latter was reconducted to the portal, with all the 
 ceremonious civility due to the trumpeter, 'squire, and am- 
 bassador of so great a commander, and being again unblinded, 
 was courteously dismissed with a tweak of the nose, to assist 
 him in recollecting his message. 
 
 No sooner did the gallant Peter receive this insolent reply, 
 than he let fly a tremendous volley of rod-hot execrations, that 
 would infallibly have battered down the fortifications, and 
 blown up the powder-magazine about the ears of the fiery 
 Swede, had not the ramparts been remarkably strong, and the 
 magazine bomb-proof. Perceiving that the works withstood 
 this terrific blast, and that it was utterly impossible (as it 
 really was in those unphilosophic days) to carry on a war with 
 words, he ordered his merry men all to prepare for an im- 
 mediate assault. But here a strange murmur broke out 
 among his troops, beginning with the tribe of the Van Bum- 
 mels, those valiant trencher-men of the Bronx, and spreading 
 from man to man, accompanied ^vith certain mutinous looks 
 and discontented murmurs. For once in his hfe, and only for 
 once, did the great Peter turn pale, for he verily thought his 
 warriors were going to falter in this hour of perilous trial, and 
 thus tarnish for ever the fame of the province of New-Neder- 
 lands. 
 
 But soon did he discover, to his great joy, that in this suspi- 
 cion he deeply wronged this most undaunted army ; for the 
 cause of this agitation and uneasiness simply was, that the 
 hour of dinner was at hand, and it would have almost broken 
 the hearts of these regular Dutch warriors, to have broken in 
 upon the invariable routine of their habits. Besides, it was 
 an established rule among our vahant ancestors, always to 
 fight upon a full stomach, and to this may be doubtless at* 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 241 
 
 tributed the circumstance that they came to be so renowned 
 in arms. 
 
 And now are the hearty men of the Manhattoes, and their 
 no less hearty comrades, all lustily engaged under the trees, 
 buffeting stoutly with the contents of their wallets, and taking 
 such affectionate embraces of their canteens and pottles, as 
 though they verily believed they were to be the last. And as 
 I foresee we shall have hot work in a page or two, I advise my 
 readers to do the same, for which purpose I will bring this 
 chapter to a close; giving them my word of honour that no 
 advantage shall bo taken of this armistice to surprise, or in 
 any wise molest, the honest Nederlanders while at their vigor- 
 ous repast. 
 
 - CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONTAINING THE MOST HORRIBLE BATTLE EVER RECORDED IN 
 POETRY OR PROSE— WITH THE ADMIRABLE EXPLOITS OF PETER 
 THE HEADSTRONG. 
 
 " Now had the Dutchmen snatched a huge repast," and find- 
 ing themselves wonderfully encouraged and animated thereby, 
 prepared to take the field. Expectation, says the writer of 
 the Stuyvesant manuscript— Expectation now stood on stilts. 
 The world forgot to turn round, or rather stood still, that it 
 might witness the affray; like a fat, round-bellied alderman, 
 watching the combat of two chivalric flies upon his jerkin. 
 The eyes of all mankind, as usual in such cases, were turned 
 upon Fort Christina. The sun, like a little man in a crowd 
 at a puppet-show, scampered about the heavens, popping his 
 head here and there, and endeavouring to get a peep between 
 the unmannerly clouds that obtruded themselves in his way. 
 The historians filled their ink-horns— the poets went without 
 their dinners, either that they might buy paper and goose- 
 quills, or because they could not get any thing to eat— anti- 
 quity scowled sulkily out of its grave, to see itself outdone— 
 while even posterity stood mute, gazing in gaping ecstasy of 
 retrospection on the eventful field. 
 
 The immortal deities, who whilom had seen service at the 
 ''affair" of Troy— now mounted their feather-bed clouds, and 
 sailed over the plain or mingled among the combatants in dif- 
 
242 
 
 A IITSTOnr OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 ferent disguises, all itching to have a finger in the pie. Jupi- 
 ter sent oif his thunderbolt to a noted coppersmith, to have it 
 furbished up for the direful occasion. Venus swore by her 
 chastity she'd patronize the Swede3, and in semblance of a 
 blear-eyed trull, paraded the battlements of Fort Christina, 
 accompanied by Diana as a serge nt's \7idow, of cracked repu- 
 tation. — The noted bully, Mars, stuck two horse-pistols into 
 liis belt, shouldered a rusty firelock, and gallantly swaggered 
 at their elbow as a drunken corpoK 1 — while Apollo trudged in 
 their rear as a bandy-legged fifer, playing most villainously 
 out of tune. 
 
 On the other side, the ox-eyed Juno, who had gained a pair 
 of black eyes overnight, in one of her curtain lectures with old 
 Jupiter, displayed her haughty beauties on a baggage-wagon— 
 Minerva, as a brawny gin sutler, tucked up her skirts, bran- 
 dished her fists, and swore most heroically in exceeding bad 
 Dutch, (having but lately studied the language,) by way of 
 keeping up the spirits of the soldiers ; while Vulcan halted as 
 a club-footed blacksmith, lately promoted to be a captain of 
 mihtia. Ail was silent horror, or busthng preparation ; war 
 reared his horrid front, gnashed loud his iron fangs, and shook 
 his direful crest of bristling bayonets. 
 
 And now the mighty chieftains marshalled out their hosts. 
 Here stood stout Risingh, firm as a thousand rocks— incrusted 
 with stockades and entrenched to the chin in mud batteries. 
 His valiant soldiery lined the breastwork in grim array, each 
 having his rnustachios fiercely greased, and his hair poma- 
 tumed back and queued so stiffly that he grinned above the 
 ramparts like a grizzly death's head. 
 
 There came on the intrepid Peter — his brows knit, his teeth 
 set, his fists clenched, almost breathing forth volumes of 
 smoke, so fierce was the fire that raged within his bosom. 
 His faithful 'squire, Van Corlear, trudged valiantly at his 
 heels, with his trumpet gorgeously bedecked with red and 
 yellow ribands, the remembrances of his fair mistresses at the 
 Manhnttoes. Then came waddling on the sturdy chivalry of 
 the Hudson. There were the Van Wycks, and the Van 
 Dycks, and the Ten Eycks— the Van Nesses, the Van Tassels, 
 the Van Grolls, the Van Hoesens, the Van Giesons, and the 
 Van Blarcoms— the Van Warts, the Van Winkles, the Van 
 Dams, the Van Pelts, the Van Rippers, and the Van Brunts. 
 —There were the Van Homes, the Van Hooks, the Van Bun- 
 schotens; the Van Gelders» the Van Arsdales. and the Van 
 
A JIISTORY OF AE\V-Y01:K. 
 
 24'.] 
 
 Bummcls— the Vander Bells, the Vander Hoofs, the Vandcr 
 Voorts, the Vander Lyns, the Vander Pools, and the Vander 
 Spiegels.— There came the Hoffmans, the Hooghlands, the Hop- 
 pers, the Cloppers, the Ryckmans, the Dyckmans, the Hogc- 
 booms, the Rosebooms, the Oothouts, the Quackenbosses, the 
 Roorbacks, the GaiTebrantzs, the Bensons, the Brouwers, tl:c 
 Waldrons, the Onderdonks, the Varra Vangers, the Schcr 
 merhornes, the Stoutenburghs, the Brinkerhoffs, the Bon 
 cecous, the Knickerbockers, the Hocksti-assers, the Ten 
 Breecheses, and the Tough Breecheses, with a host more of 
 wortliies, w hose names are too crabbed to be written, or if 
 they could be wiitten, it would be impossible for man to utter 
 —all fortified with a mighty dinner, and to use the words of 
 a great Dutch poet, 
 
 " Brimful of wrath and cabbage!" 
 
 For an instant the mighty Peter paused in the midst of his 
 career, and mounting on a stmnp, addressed his troops in 
 eloquent Low Dutch, exhorting them to fight like duyvcls, and 
 assuring them that if they conquered, they should get plenty 
 of booty — if they fell, they should be allowed the unparalleled 
 satisfaction, while dying, of reflecting that it was in the ser- 
 vice of their coimtry — and after they were dead, of seeing: 
 their names inscribed in the temple of renown, and handed 
 down, in company with all the other great men of the ycrr, 
 for the admiration of posterity. — Finally, he swore to them, 
 on the word of a governor, (and they knew him too well to 
 doubt it for a moment) that if he caught any mother's son o^ 
 them looking pale, or pla^-ing craven, he'd curry his hide till 
 he made him run out of it like a snake in spring-time.— Then 
 lugging out his trusty sabre, he brandished it thi-ee times over 
 his head, ordered Van Corlear to sound a tremendous charge, 
 and shouting tlie words, "St. Nicholas and the Manhattoes!" 
 courageously dashed forwards. His warlike followers, who 
 had employed the interval in Lighting their pipes, instantly 
 stuck them in their mouths, gave a furious puff, and charged 
 gallantly, under cover of the smoke. 
 
 The Swedish garrison, ordered by the cunning Risingh not 
 to fire until they could distinguish the whites of their assail- 
 ants' eyes, stood in horrid silence on the covert -way, until the 
 eager Dutchmen had ascended the glacis. Then did they pour 
 into them such a tremendous voUey, that the very hills quaked 
 around, and were t<in'ified even unto an incontinence of water. 
 
244 
 
 A IIISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 insomuch that certain springs burst forth from their sides, 
 which continue to run imto the present day. Not a Dutchman 
 but would have bitten the dust, beneath that dreadful fire, 
 had not the protecting Minerva kindly taken care that the 
 Swedes should, one and all, observe then* usual custom, of 
 shutting their eyes and turning away their heads, at the 
 moment of discharge. 
 
 The Swedes followed up their fire by leaping the counter- 
 scarp, and falling tooth and nail upon the foe, with furious 
 outcries. And now might be seen prodigies of valour, of 
 which neither history nor song has ever recorded a imrallel. 
 Here was beheld the sturdy Stofiiel Brinkerhoff , brandishing 
 his lusty quarter- staff, like the terrible giant Bland eron his 
 oak tree, (for he scorned to carry any other weapon,) and 
 drumming a horrific tune upon the heads of whole squadrons 
 of Swedes. There were the crafty Van Kortlandts, posted at 
 a distance, like the Locrian archers of yore, and plying it most 
 potently with the long bow, for which they were so justly 
 renowned. At another place were collected on a rising knoll 
 the valiant men of Smg-Sing, who assisted marvellously in the 
 fight, by chanting forth the great song of St. Nicholas ; but as 
 to the Gardeniers of Hudson, they were absent from the 
 battle, having been sent out on a marauding party, to lay 
 waste the neighbouring water-melon patches. In a different 
 part of the field might be seen the Van GroUs of Antony's 
 Nose; but they were horribly perplexed in a defile between 
 two httle hills, by reason of the length of their noses. There 
 were the Van Bunschotens of Nyack and Kakiat, so renowned 
 for kicking with the left foot, but their skill availed them little 
 at present, being short of wind in consequence of the hearty 
 dinner they had eaten, and they would irretrievably have been 
 put to rout, had they not been reinforced by a gallant corps of 
 Voltigeures, composed of the Hoppers, who advanced to their 
 assistance nimbly on one foot. Nor must I omit to mention 
 the incomparable achievements of Antony Vaii (^orlear, who, 
 for a good quarter of an hour, Avaged stubborn tight with a 
 nttle, i^ursy Swedish drunnner, whose hide he drummed most 
 magnificently ; and had he not come into the battle with no 
 other weapon but his trumpet, would infallibly have put him 
 to an untimely end. 
 
 But now the combat thickened— on came the mighty Jacobus 
 Varra Vange]', and tlie fighting men of the Wallabout ; after 
 them thundered the Van Pelts of Esopus, together with the 
 
A UISTORY OF M^:]v-yonK. 
 
 245 
 
 Van Bippers and the Van Brunts, bearing down all before them 
 —then the Suy Dams and the Van Dams, pressing forward 
 with many a blustering oath, at the head of the warriors of 
 Hell-Gate, clad in their thunder and lightning gaberdines; 
 and lastly, the standard-bearers and body-guards of Petei 
 I Stuy vesant, bearing the great beaver of the Manhattoes. 
 
 And now commenced the horrid din, the desperate struggle, 
 the maddening ferocity, the frantic desperation, the confusion 
 and self-abandonment of war. Dutchman and Swede com- 
 mingled, tugged, i)anted, and blowed. The heavens were dark- 
 ened with a tempest of missives. Bang! went the guns— 
 whack! struck the broad-swords - thump ! went the cudgels— > 
 crash ! went the musket stocks— blows— kicks— cuffs— scratches 
 — black eyes and bloody noses, swelling the horrors of the 
 scene! Thick-thwack, cut and hack, helter-skelter, higgledy- 
 piggledy, hurly-burly, head over heels, rough and tumble ! 
 
 Dunder and blixum ! swore the Dutchmen— spHtter and splut- 
 ter! cried the Swedes.— Storm the works! shouted Hardkop- 
 pig Peter— fire the mine! roared stout Risingh— Tanta-ra-ra- 
 ra! twanged the trumpet of Antony Van Corlear— until all 
 voice and sound became unintelhgible— grunts of pain, yells 
 of fury, and shouts of triumph commingling in one hideous 
 clamour. The earth shook as if struck with a paralytic stroke 
 —trees shrunk aghast, and withered at the sight— rocks bur- 
 rowed in the ground hke rabbits, and even Christina creek 
 turned from its course, and ran up a mountain in breathless 
 terror ! 
 
 Long hung the contest doubtful ; for, though a heavy shower 
 of rain, sent by the " cloud-compelling Jove," in some measure 
 cooled their ardour, as doth a bucket of water thrown on a 
 group of fighting mastiffs, yet did they but pause for a mo- 
 ment, to return with tenfold fury to the charge, belabouring 
 each other with black and bloody bruises. Just at this junc- 
 ture was seen a vast and dense column of smoke, slowly reli- 
 ving towards the scene of battle, which for a while made even 
 the furious combatants to stay their arms in mute astonish- 
 ment—but the wind for a moment dispersing the murky cloud, 
 fi'om the midst thereof emerged the flaunting banner of the 
 immortal Michael Paw. This noble chieftain came fearlessly 
 on, leading a sohd phalanx of oyster-fed Pavonians, who had 
 remained behind, partly as a corps de reserve, and partly to 
 fi digest the enormous dinner they had eaten. These sturdy 
 [ yeomen, nothing daunted, did trudge manfully forward, smok- 
 
246 
 
 A UISTOUY OF At'W-YOnjL. 
 
 ing their pipes with outrageous vigour, so as to raise the awful 
 cloud that has been mentioned; but marching exceedingly 
 slow^, being short of leg, and of great rotundity in the belt. 
 
 And now the protecting deities of the army of New- Amster- 
 dam, having unthinkingly left the field and stept into a neigh- 
 bouring tavern to refi-esh themselves with a pot of beer, a 
 direful catastrophe had well-nigh chanced to befall the Neder- 
 landers. Scarcely had the myrmidons of the puissant Paw 
 attained the front of battle, before the Swedes, instructed by 
 the cunning Risingh, levelled a shower of blows full at their 
 tobacco-pipes. Astounded at this unexpected assault, and 
 totally discomfited at seeing their pipes broken, the valiant 
 Dutchmen fell in vast confusion— already they begin to fly — 
 like a frightened drove of unwieldy elephants they throw 
 their own army in an uproar, bearing down a whole legion of 
 little Hoppers— the sacred banner, on which is blazoned the 
 gigantic oyster of Communipaw, is trampled in the dirt— the 
 Swedes pluck up new spirits, and pressing on then- rear, apply 
 theu' feet a parfe jjoste, with a vigour that prodigiously accel- 
 erates their motions -nor doth the renowned Paw himself fail 
 to receive divers grievous and dishonourable visitations of 
 shoe-leather ! 
 
 But what, oh muse? was the rage of the gallant Peter, when 
 from afar he saw his army yield? With a voice of thunder 
 did he roar after his recreant warriors. The men of the Man- 
 hattoes plucked up new courage when they heard their leader 
 — or rather they dreaded his fierce displeasure, of which they 
 stood in more awe than of all the Swedes in Christendom— but 
 the darmg Peter, not waitmg for their aid, plunged, sword in 
 hand, into the thickest of the foe. Then did he display some 
 such incredible achievements as have never been know^i since 
 the miraculous days of the giants. Wherever he went, the 
 enemy shrunk before him— with fierce impetuosity he pushed 
 forward, driving the Swedes, like dogs, into their own ditch- 
 but as he fearlessly advanced, the foe thronged in his rear, 
 and hung upon his flanlc with fearful peril. One crafty Swede, 
 advancing warily on one side, drove his dastard sword full at 
 the hero's heart ; but the protecting power that watches over 
 the safety of all great and good men, turned aside the hostile 
 blade, and directed it to a side pocket, where reposed an enor- 
 mous iron tobacco-box, endowed, like the shield of Achilles, 
 with supernatural powers— no doubt in consequence of its 
 being piously decorated with a portrait of the blessed St. Nich- 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORR. 
 
 247 
 
 olas. Thus was the dreadful blow repelled, but not without ^ 
 occasioning to the great Peter a fearful loss of wind. 
 
 Like as a fuiious bear, when gored by curs, turns fiercely 
 round, gnashes his teeth, and springs upon the foe, so did oiu* 
 hero turn upon the treacherous Swede. The miserable varlet 
 sought in flight for safety— but the active Peter, seizing him 
 by an immeasurable queue, that dangled from his head—" Ah, 
 whoreson cater])illar !" roared he, "here is what shall make 
 dog's meat of thee!" So spvying, he whirled his trusty sword, 
 and made a blow that would have decapitated him, but that 
 the pitying steel struck short, and shaved the queue for ever 
 from his crown. At this very moment a cunning arquebusier, 
 perched on the summit of a neighbouring mound, levelled his 
 deadly instrument, and would have sent the gallant Stuyve- 
 sant a wailing ghost to haunt the Stygian shore, had not the 
 watchful Miner^^a, who had just stopped to tie up her garter, 
 seen the great peril of her favourite chief, and despatched old 
 Boreas with his l)ellows; who, in the very nick of time, just as 
 the match descended to the pan, gave such a lucky blast, as 
 blew all the priming from the touch-hole ! 
 
 Thus Avaged the horrid fight — when the stout Eisingh, sur- 
 veying the battle from the top of a little ravelin, perceived his 
 faithful troops banged, beaten, and kicked by the invincible 
 Peter. Language cannot describe the choler with which he 
 was seized at the sight — he only stopped for a moment to dis- 
 burthen himself of five thousand anathemas ; and then, draw- 
 ing his immeasm-able falchion, straddled down to the field of 
 combat, with some such thundering strides as Jupiter is said 
 by Plesiod to has^e taken when he strode down the spheres, to 
 liurl his thunderbolts at the Titans. 
 
 Ko eooacr did these two rival heroes come face to face, tlian 
 tliey each made a prodigious start, such as is made by your 
 iiost expe)*iei3ced stage champions. Then did they regard 
 ach other for a jnoment, with bitter aspect, like two furious 
 ram-cats, on the veiy point of a clapper-clawing. Then did 
 6hey throw them&^elves in one attitude, then in another, strik- 
 ing their swords on the gi'ound, first on the right side, then on 
 the left — at last, at it they went with incredible ferocity. 
 Words cannot tt ll the prodigies of strength and valom' dis- 
 played in this direful encounter — an encounter, compared to 
 which the far-famed battles of Ajax with Hector, of Eneas 
 with Turnus, Orlando with Eodomont, Guy of Warwick with 
 Oolhrnnd the 'Dnno or that renoA\Tied Welsh knischt. Sir O^xf r 
 
248 
 
 A HISTORY Of NEW- YORK. 
 
 of the Mountains with the giant Guylon, -^rere all gentle spoi-ts 
 and holyday recreations. At length the valiant Peter, watch- 
 ing his opportunity, aimed a fearful blow with the full inten- 
 tion of cleaving his adveisary to the very chine ; but Risingh, 
 nunblj' raising his sword, warded it off so narrowly, that glanc- 
 ing on one side, it shaved away a huge canteen that he always 
 carried swung on one side ; thence pursuing its trenchant course, 
 it severed off a deep coat-pocket, stored ^vith bread and cheese 
 — all which dainties rolling among the armies, occasioned a 
 fearful scraiiibhng between the Swedes and Dutchmen, and 
 made the general battle to wax ten times more furious than 
 ever. 
 
 Eni-aged to see his military stores thus wofully laid waste, 
 the stout Risingh, collectmg all his forces, aimed a mighty 
 blow full at the hero's crest. In vain did his fierce little 
 cocked hat oppose its course; the biting steel clove thi'ough 
 the stubborn ram-beaver, and would infalhbly have cracked 
 his crown, but that the skull was of such adamantine hard- 
 ness, that the brittle weapon shivered into pieces, shedding a 
 thousand sparks, like beams of glory, round his giizzly visage. 
 
 Stunned with the blow, the vahant Peter reeled, turned up 
 Ins eyes, and beheld fifty thousand suns, besides moons and 
 stars, dancing about the firmament — at length, missing his 
 footing, by reason of his wooden leg, down he came, on his 
 seat of honour, with a crash that shook the surrounding hills, 
 and would infallibly have wrecked his anatomical system, had 
 he not been received into a cushion softer than velvet, which 
 Providence, or Minerva, or St. Nicholas, or some kindly cow, 
 had benevolently prepared for his reception. 
 
 The furious Risingh, in despite of that noble maxim, cher- 
 ished by all true knights, that " fair play is a jewel," hastened 
 to take advantage of the hero's fall ; but just as he was stoop- 
 ing to give the fatal blow, the ever-vigilant Peter bestowed 
 him a sturdy thwack over the sconce with his wooden leg, 
 that set some dozen chimes of bells ringing triple bob-majors 
 in his cerebellum. The bewildered Swede staggered with the 
 blow, and in the meantune the wary Peter, espying a pocket- 
 pistol lying hard by, (which had dropped fi'om the wallet of 
 liis faithfid 'squire and trumpeter, Van Corlear, diu-ing his 
 furious encounter with the drummer,) discharged it full at the 
 head of the reeling Risingli. — Let not my reader mistake —it 
 was not a murderous weapon loaded with powder and ball, 
 but a httle sturdy stone ])ottle, cliari^ed to the muzzle with o 
 
A IIISTOUY OF NEW -YORE. 
 
 249 
 
 double dram of true Dutcii courage, which the knowing Van 
 Corlear always carried about him by way of replenishing his 
 valour. The hideous missive sung through the air, and true 
 to its course, as was the mighty fragment of a rock discharged 
 at Hector by bully Ajax, encountered the huge head of the gi- 
 gantic Swede with matchless violence. 
 
 This heaven-directed blow decided the eventful battle. Tho 
 ponderous pericranium of General Jan Risingh sunk upon his 
 breast ; his knees tottered under him ; a deatbiike torpor seized 
 upon his giant frame, and he tumbled to the earth with such 
 tremendous violence, that old Pluto started with affright, lest 
 he should have broken through the roof of his infernal palace. 
 
 His fall was the signal of defeat and victory. — The Swedes 
 gave way — the Dutch pressed forward ; the former took to 
 their heels, the latter hotly pursued— some entered with them, 
 pell-mell, through the sally-port -others stormed the bastion, 
 and others scrambled over the curtain. Thus, in a httle ^vhile, 
 the mipregnable fortress of Fort Christina, which like another 
 Troy had stood a siege of full ten hours, was finally carried by 
 assault, without the loss of a single man on either side. Vic- 
 tory, in the likeness of a gigantic ox-fly, sat perched upon the 
 cocked hat of the gallant Stuy vesant ; and it was universally 
 declared, by all the writers whom he hired to write the his- 
 tory of his expedition, that on this memorable day he gained 
 a sufficient quantity of glory to immortalize a dozen of the 
 greatest heroes in Christendom ! 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN WmOH THE AUTHOR AND THE READER, WHILE REPOSING 
 AFTER THE BATTLE, FALL INTO A VERY GRAVE DISCOURSE — 
 AFTER WHICH IS RECORDED THE CONDUCT OF PETER STUYVE- 
 SANT AFTER HIS VICTORY. 
 
 Thanks to St. Nicholas, we have safely finished this tremen- 
 dous battle ; let us sit down, my worthy reader, and cool our- 
 selves, for I am in a prodigious sweat and agitation.— Truly 
 this fighting of battles is hot work ! and if your great com- 
 manders did but know w^hat tiouble they give their liistorianSj 
 they would not have the conscience to acliieve so many honi' 
 
250 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK 
 
 ble victories. But methinks I hear my reader complain, that 
 throughout this boasted battle, there is not the least slaughter, 
 nor a single individual maimed, if we except the unhappy Swede, 
 who was shorn of his queue by the trenchant blade of Peter 
 Stuy vesant ; all which, he observes, is a gi-eat outrage on proba- 
 bility, and highly injurious to the interest of the narration. 
 
 This is certainly an objection of no httle moment; but it 
 arises entirely from the obscurity that envelopes the remote 
 periods of time, about which I have undertaken to write. 
 Thus, though, doubtless, from the importance of the object, 
 and the prowess of the parties concerned, there must have 
 been terrible carnage, and prodigies of valour displayed, before 
 the walls of Christina, yet, notwithstanding that I have con- 
 sulted every history, manuscript, and tradition, touching this 
 memorable, though long-forgotten battle, I cannot find mention 
 made of a single man killed or wounded in the whole affah*. 
 
 This is, without doubt, owing to the extreme modesty of our 
 forefathers, who, like theii^ descendants, were never prone to 
 vaunt of theu' achievements ; but it is a virtue that places theu^ 
 historian in a most embarrassing predicament; for, having 
 l^romised my readers a hideous and unparalleled battle, and 
 having worked them up into a warhke and bloodthu-sty state 
 of mind, to put them oif without any havoc and slaughter, was 
 as bitter a disappointment as to simimon a multitude of good peo- 
 ple to attend an execution, and then cruelly balk by a reprieve. 
 
 Had the mexorable fates only allowed me some half a score 
 of dead men, I had been content ; for I would have made them 
 such heroes as abounded in the olden time, but whose rac-^ 
 is nov/ unfortunately extinct — any one of whom, if we may 
 behove those authentic writers, the poets, could drive great 
 armies like sheep before hhn, and conquer and desolate whole 
 cities by his smgie arm. 
 
 But seeing that I had not a single hfe at my disposal, all thai, 
 was left me was to make the most I could of my battle, by 
 means of kicks, and cuffs, and bruises, and such like ignoble 
 wounds. And here I cannot but compare mj dilemma, in 
 some sort, to that of the divine Milton, who, havmg arrayed 
 with sublime preparation his immortal hosts against each 
 other, is sadly put to it how to manage them, and how he shall 
 make the end of his battle answer to the beginning ; inasmuch 
 as, being mere spirits, he cannot deal a mortal blow, nor even 
 give a flesh wound to any of his combatants. For my part, 
 the gi-eatest difficulty I found, was, when I iiad once put my 
 
A JIISTOIIY 01<' Is' KW- YORK. 
 
 251 
 
 warj iors in a passion, and let them loose into the midst of the 
 encsny, to keep them from doing mischief. Many a time had 
 I to restrain the stm^dy Peter from cleaving a gigantic Swede 
 to the very waistband, or spitting half-a-dozen Uttle fellows on 
 his sword, like so many sparrows ; and when I had set some 
 hundreds of missives flying in the air, I did not dare to suffei 
 one of them to reach the ground, lest it should have put an 
 end to some unlucky Dutchman. 
 
 The reader cannot conceive how mortifying it is to a writer, 
 thus in a manner to have his hands tied, and how m.any 
 tempting opportunities I had to wink at, where I might have 
 made as fine a death-blow as any recorded in history or song. 
 
 From my own experience, I begin to doubt most potently of 
 the authenticity of many of Homer's stories. I verily believe, 
 that when he had once lanched one of his favourite heroes 
 among a crowed of the enemy, he cut down many an honest 
 fellow, without any authority for so doing, excepting that he 
 presented a fair mark— and that often a poor devil was sent to 
 grim Pluto's domains, merely because he had a name that 
 would give a sounding turn to a period. But I disclaim all 
 such unprincipled liberties — let me but have truth and the law 
 on my side, and no man would fight harder than myself : but 
 since the various records I consulted did not warrpnt it, 1 had 
 too much conscience to kill a single soldier. By St. Nicholas, 
 but it would have been a pretty piece of business ! ^ly ene- 
 mies, the critics, who I foresee will be ready enough to lay 
 any crime they can discover at my door, might Imve charged 
 m.e with murder outright— and I should have esteemed myself 
 lucky to escape with no harsher verdict than manslaughter ! 
 
 And now, gentle reader, that we are tranquilly sitting down 
 here, smoking our pipes, permit me to indulge in a melancholy 
 reflection, which at this moment passes across my mind. — 
 How vain, how fleeting, how uncertain are all those gaudy 
 bubbles after which we are panting and toiling in this world 
 of fair delusion! The wealth which the miser has amassed 
 with so many weary days, so many sleepless nights, a spend- 
 thrift heir may squander away in joyless prodigahty. The 
 noblest monuments which pride has ever reared to perpetuate 
 a name, the hand of time wfll shortly tumble into ruins — and 
 even the brightest laurels, gained by feats of arms, may 
 wither and be for ever blighted by the chilling neglect of man- 
 kind. — "How many illustrious heroes," says the good Boetius, 
 
 who were once the pride and glory of the age, hath the 
 
A niSTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 silence of historians buried in eternal oblivion !" And cbis it 
 was that induced the Spartans, when they went to battle, 
 solemnly to sacrifice to the muses, supplicating that their 
 achievements should be worthily recorded. Had not Homer 
 tuned his lofty lyre, observes the elegant Cicero, the valour of 
 Achilles had remained unsung. And such, too, after all the 
 toils and perils he had braved, after all the gallant actions 
 he had achieved, such too had nearly been the fate of the 
 chivalric Peter Stuyvesant, but that I fortunately stepped in 
 and engraved his name on the indchble tablet of history, just 
 as the caitiff Time was silently brushing it away for ever. 
 
 The more I reflect, the more am I astonished at the impor- 
 tant character of the historian. He is the sovereign censor, to 
 decide upon the renown or infamy of his fellow-men — he is the 
 patron of kings and conquerors, on whom it depends whether 
 they shall live in after ages, or be forgotten, as were their 
 ancestors before them. The tyrant may oppress while the 
 object of his tyranny exists, but the historian possesses supe- 
 rior might, for his power extends even beyond the grave. The 
 shades of departed and long-forgotten heroes anxiously bend 
 down from above, while he writes, watching each movement 
 of his pen, whether it shall pass by their names with neglect, 
 or inscribe them on the deathless pages of renown. Even the 
 drop of ink that hangs trembling on his pen, which he may 
 either dash upon the floor or waste in idle scrawlings — that 
 very drop, wliich to him is not worth the twentieth part of 
 a farthing, may be of incalculable value to some departed 
 worthy — may elevate half a score, in one moment, to immor- 
 tality, who would have given worlds, had they possessed 
 them, to insure the glorious meed. 
 
 Let not my readers imagine, however, that I am indulging 
 in vain-glorious boastings, or am anxious to blazon forth the 
 importance of my tribe. On the contrary, I shrink when I 
 reflect on the awful responsibility wo historians assume— I 
 shudder to think what direful commotions and calamities we 
 occasion in the world— I swear to thee, honest reader, as I am 
 a man, I weep at the very idea! Why, let me ask, are so 
 many illustrious men daily tearing themselves awav from the 
 embraces of their families— slighting the smiles of beauty- 
 despising the allurements of fortune, and exposing themselves 
 to the miseries of war?— Why are kings desolating empires, 
 and depopulating whole countries? In short, what induces all 
 great men, of aU ages and countries, to commit so many 
 
A JllSTORY OF jyEW-YOEK 
 
 2,53 
 
 victories and misdeeds, and inflict so many miseries upon 
 mankind and on themselves, but the mere hope that some his- 
 torian will kindly take them into notice, and admit them into 
 a corner of his volume. For, in short, the mighty object of 
 all their toils, their hardships, and privations, is nothing but 
 immortal fame — and what is immortal fame? — why, half a page 
 of dirty paper ! — Alas ! pJas ! how humiliating the idea — that the 
 renown of so gi'eat a man as Peter Stuyvesant should depend 
 upon the pen of so little a man as Diedrich Knickerbocker ! 
 
 And nov/, having refreshed ourselves after the fatigues and 
 perils of the field, it behoves us to return once more to the 
 scene of conflict, and inquire what were the results of this 
 renowned conquest. The fortress of Christina being the fair 
 metropolis, and in a manner the key to New-Sweden, its cap- 
 ture was speedily followed by the entire subjugation of the 
 province. This was not a little promoted by the gallant and 
 courteous deportment of the chivalric Peter. Though a man 
 terrible in battle, yet in the hour of victory was he endued 
 with a spirit generous, merciful, and humane — he vaunted not 
 over his enemies, nor did he make defeat more galling by un- 
 manly insults; for like that mirror of knightly virtue, the 
 renowned Paladin Orlando, he was more anxious to do great 
 actions than to talk of them after they Avere done. He put no 
 man to death ; ordered no houses to be burnt down ; permitted 
 no ravages to be perpetrated on the property of the van- 
 quished, and even gave one of his bravest officers a severe 
 admonishment witli his walking-stalf , for having been detected 
 in the act of sacking a hen-roost. 
 
 He moreover issued a proclamation, inviting the inliabitants 
 to submit to the authority of their High Mightinesses; but 
 declaring, with unexami)led clemency, that v^^hoever refused 
 should be lodged, at the public expense, in a goodly castle pro- 
 vided for the purpose, and have an armed retinue to wait 
 on them in the bargain. In consequence of these beneficent 
 terms, about tliirty Swedes stepped manfully forAvard and 
 took the oath of allegiance ; in reward for which, they were 
 gi^aciously permitted to remain on the banks of the Delaware, 
 where their descendants reside at this very day. But I am 
 told by divers observant travellers, that they have never been 
 able to get over the cliapfallen looks of their ancestors, and 
 do still unaccounta,bly transmit from father to son manifest 
 marks of the sound drubbing given them by the sturdy Am- 
 ; tordammers. 
 
254 
 
 A niSTORT OF NEW-YORK 
 
 The whole country of New-Sweden, having thus yielded to 
 the arms of the triumphant Peter, was reduced to a colony, 
 called South River, and placed under the superintendence of 
 a heutenant-governor ; subject to the control of the supreme 
 government at New-Amsterdam. Tliis great dignitary was 
 called Mynheer Wilham Beekman, or rather ^ecfcman, who 
 derived his surname, as did Ovidius Naso of yore, from the 
 lordly dimensions of his nose, which projected from the centre 
 of his countenance like the beak of a parrot. He was the great 
 progenitor of the tribe of the Beekmans, one of the most 
 ancient and honom-able famihes of the i)rovince, the members 
 of which do gratefully coimnemorate the origin of their 
 dignity, not as your noble families in England would do, by 
 having a glowing proboscis emblazoned in their escutcheon, 
 but by one and all wearing a right goodly nose stuck in the 
 very middle of their faces. 
 
 Thus was this j)erilous enterprise gloriously terminated with 
 the loss of only two men— Wolf ert Y an Horne, a tall, spare 
 man, who was knocked overboard by the boom of a sloop, in a 
 flaw of wind ; and fat Brom Van Bmumel, who was suddenly 
 carried off by an indigestion ; both, however, were immortalized 
 as having bravely fallen in the service of their country. True 
 it is, Peter Stuyvesant had one of his limbs terribly frac- 
 tured, being shattered to pieces in the act of storming the 
 fortress ; but as it was fortunately his wooden leg, the wound 
 was promptly and effectually healed. 
 
 And now nothing remains to this branch of my history, but 
 to mention that this immaculate hero, and his victorious army, 
 returned joyously to the Ma,nhattoes, where they made a sol- 
 emn and triumphant entry, bearing with them the conquered 
 Risingh, and the renuiant of his battered crew, who had 
 refused allegiance ; for it appeai-s that the gigantic Swede had 
 only fallen into a swoon at the end of the battle, from whence 
 he was speedily restored by a wholesome tweak of the nose. 
 
 These captive heroes were lodged, according to the promise 
 of the governor, at the pubhc expense, in a fair and spacious 
 castle ; being the prison of state, of which Stoff el Brinkerhoif , 
 the immortal conqueror of Oyster Bay, was appointed gover- 
 nor ; and which has ever since remained in the possession of 
 his descendants.* 
 
 * This castle, though very much altered ana modernized, is still in being, and 
 standss at the corner of Pearl-street, facing Coenties' slip. 
 
A UlSTOUY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 255 
 
 It was a pleasant and goodly sight to witness the joy of the 
 people of New- Amsterdam, at beholding their warriors once 
 more return from this war in the wilderness. The old women 
 thronged round Antony Van Corlear, who gave the whole 
 history of the campaign with matchless accuracy : saving that 
 he took the credit of fighting the whole battle himself, and 
 especially of vanquishing the stout Risingh, which he consid- 
 ered himself as clearly entitled to, seeing that it was effected 
 by his own stone pottle. 
 
 The schoolmasters throughout the town gave holyday to 
 their little urchins, who followed in droves after the drums, 
 with pa,per caps on their heads, and sticks in their breeches, 
 thus taking the first lesson in the art of war. As to the sturdy 
 rabble, they thronged at the heels of Peter Stuyvesant wher- 
 ever he went, waving their greasj'' hats in the air, and shout- 
 mg " Hard-koppig Piet for ever!" 
 
 It was, indeed, a day of roaring rout and jubilee. A huge 
 dinner was prepared at the Stadt-house in honour of the con- 
 querors, where were assembled, in one glorious constellation, 
 the gTcat and the little luminaries of New- Amsterdam. There 
 were the lordly Schout and his obsequious deputy — the burgo- 
 masters with their officious schepens at their elbows— the sub- 
 altern officers at the elbows of the schepens, and so on to the 
 lowest hanger-on of pohce ; every Tag having his Rag at his 
 side, to finish his pipe, drink off his heel-taps, and laugh at his 
 flights of immortal dulness. In short — for a city feast is a 
 city feast all the world over, and has been a city feast ever 
 since the creation — the dinner went off much the same as do 
 our great corporation junketings and fourth of July banquets. 
 Loads of fish, flesh, and fowl were devoured, oceans of hquor 
 drunk, thousands of pipes smoked, and many a dull joke hon- 
 oured with much obstreperous fat-sided laughter. 
 
 I must not omit to mention, that to this far-famed victory 
 Peter Stuyvesant was indebted for another of his many titles 
 — for so hugely deli2:hted were the honest burghers with his 
 achievements, that they unanimously honoured him ^vith the 
 name of Pietrc de Groodt^ that is to say, Peter the Great, or, as it 
 was translated by the people of New- Amsterdam, Piet de Pig 
 —an appellation which he maintained even unto the day of his 
 death. 
 
266 
 
 A UllSTOUY OF NEW-YOliK. 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 CONTAINING THE THIRD PART OF THE FEIGN OF 
 PETER THE HEAD STRONG— HIS TROUBLES WITH 
 THE BRITISH NATION, AND THE DECLINE AND 
 FALL OF THE DUTCH DYNASTY. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 HOW PETER STUYVESANT RELIEVED THE SOVEREIGN PEOPLE 
 FROM THE BURTHEN OF TAiaNG CARE OF THE NATION — WITH 
 SUNDRY PARTICULARS OF HIS CONDUCT IN TIME OF PEACE. 
 
 The history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant furnishes a 
 melancholy picture of the incessant cares and vexations iosep- 
 arable from government ; and may serve as a solenm warning 
 to all who are ambitious of attaining the seat of power. 
 Though crowned with victory, enriched by conquest, and re- 
 turning in triumph to his metropohs, his exultation was 
 checked by beholding the sad abuses that had taken place dur- 
 ing the short interval of his absence. 
 
 The populace, unfortunately for their own comfort, had 
 taken a deej) draught of the intoxicating cup of power, during 
 the reign of William the Testy ; and though, upon the accession 
 of Peter Stuyvesant, they felt, with a certain instinctive per- 
 ception, which mobs as well as cattle possess, that the reins of 
 government had passed into stronger hands, yet could they not 
 help fretting and chafing and champing upon the bit in restive 
 silence. 
 
 It seems, by some strange and inscrutable fatahty, to be the 
 destiny of most countries, (and more especially of your enlight- 
 ened republics) always to be governed by the most incompetent 
 man in the nation— so that you will scarcely find an individual, 
 throughout the whole community, who cannot point out in- 
 nmnerable errors in administration, and convince you, m the 
 
A HIS TOUT OF NEW- YOUR. 
 
 257 
 
 Slid, that had he been at the head of affairs, matters would 
 have gone on a thousand times more prosperously. Strange ! 
 that government, which seems to be so generally understood, 
 should invariably be so erroneously administered — strange, 
 that the talent of legislation, so prodigally bestowed, should bo 
 denied to the only man in the nation to whose station it is 
 requisite ! 
 
 Thus it was in the present instance ; not a man of ail the 
 herd of pseudo pohticians in New-Amsterdam, but was an 
 oracle on topics oi" state, and could have directi-:d public affairs 
 incomparably better than Peter ^Stuyvesant. But so severe 
 was the old governor, in his disposition, that he would never 
 suffer one of the multitude of able counsellors by whom he 
 was surrounded, to intrude his advice, and save the country 
 from destruction. 
 
 Scarcel}", therefore, had he departed on his expedition against 
 the Swedes, than the old factions of William Kieft's reign be- 
 gan to thrust their heads above water, and to gather together 
 in political meetings, to discuss " the state of tJie nation." At 
 these assemblages, the busy burgomasters and their officious 
 schepens made a very considerable figure. These worthy dig- 
 nitaries were no longer the fat, well-fed, tranquil magistrates 
 that presided in the peaceful days of Wouter Van Twiller — on 
 the contrary, being elected by the people, they formed in a 
 manner a sturdy bulwark between the mob and the adminis- 
 tration. They were great candidates for popularity, and 
 strenuous advocates for the rights of the rabDle ; resembhng in 
 disinterested, zeal the wide-mouthed tribunes of ancient Rome, 
 or those virtuous patriots of modern days, emphatically de- 
 nominated " the friends of the people." 
 
 Under the tuition of these profound politicians, it is astonish- 
 ing how suddenly enlightened the swinish multitude became, 
 in matters above their comprehensions. Cobblers, tinkers, 
 and tailors, all at once felt themselves inspired, like those 
 rehgious idiots, in the glorious times of monkish illumination ; 
 and, without any i^revious study or experience, became in- 
 stantly capable of directing all the movements of government. 
 ISIor must I neglect to mention a number of superannuated, 
 wrong-headed old burghers, Avho had come over, when boys, 
 in the crew of the Goede Vrouiv, and were held up as infalhble 
 oracles by the enhghtened mob. To suppose that a man who 
 bad helped to discover a country, did not know how it ought 
 to be governed, was preposterous in the extreme. It ^vould 
 
258 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 have been deemed as much a heresy, as at the present day to 
 question the poHtical talents and imiversal infalhbility of oui- 
 old heroes of '76 "—and to doubt that he Avho had fought for 
 a government, however stupid he might naturally be, was not 
 competent to fill any station under it. 
 
 But as Peter Stuy vesant had a singular inclination to govern 
 his province without the assistance of his subjects, he felt 
 highly mcensed on his return to find the factious appearance 
 i\\ey had assumed during his absence. BLLs first measure, 
 therefore, was to restore perfect order, by prostrating the 
 dignity of the sovereign people. 
 
 He accordingly watched his opportunity, and one evening, 
 when the enlightened mob was gathered together, hstening to 
 a patriotic speech from an inspired cobbler, the intrepid Peter 
 all at once appeared a.mong them, with a countenance suffi- 
 cient to petrify a mill-stone. The whole meeting was thi^own 
 into consternation — the orator seemed to have received a 
 paralytic stroke in the very middle of a subhme sentence, and 
 stood aghast Avdth open mouth and trembling knees, while the 
 words horror! tyranny! hberty ! rights' taxes! death! destruc- 
 tion! and a deluge of other patriotic phrases, came roaring 
 from his throat, before he had power to close his lips. The 
 shrewd Peter took no notice of the skulking throng around 
 him, but advancing to the brawhng bully-ruffian, and drawing- 
 out a huge silver watch which might have served in times ot 
 yore as a town clock, and which is still retained by his de- 
 scendants as a family curiosity, requested the orator to mend 
 it, and set it gohig. The orator hmnbly confessed it was 
 utterly out of his power, as he was unacquainted with the 
 nature of its construction. "Nay, but," said Peter, "try your 
 ingenuity, man ; you see all the springs and wheels, and how 
 easily the clumsiest hand may stop it, and pull it to pieces ; 
 and why should it not be equally easy to regulate as to stop 
 it ? The orator declared that his trade was wholly different— 
 that he was a poor cobbler, and had never meddled with a 
 watch in his life— that there were men skilled in the art, whose 
 business it was to attend to those matters, but for his part, he 
 should only mar the workmanship, and put the whole in con- 
 fusion.— " Wliy, harkee, master of mine," cried Peter, turn- 
 ing suddenly upon him, with a countenance that almost petri- 
 fied the patcher of shoes into a perfect lap-stone — "dost thou 
 pretend to meddle with the movements of government — to rcfr^i • 
 late, and correct, and patch, and cobble a complicated machine, 
 
A IIISTORT OF NEW- TORE. 
 
 209 
 
 the principles of which are above thy comprehension, and its 
 simplest operations too subtle for thy understanding; when 
 thou canst not correct a trifling error in a common piece of 
 meelianism, the whole mystery of which is open to thy in- 
 ,>^pcctioni— Hence with thee to the leather and stone, which are 
 emblems of thy head ; cobble thy shoes, and confine thyself 
 to the vocation for which Heaven has fitted thee. — But," 
 elevating his voice until it made the welkin ring, "if ever I 
 catch thee, or any of thy tribe, meddhng again with affairs of 
 government, by St. Nicholas, but I'll have every mother's 
 bastard of ye flay'd alive, and your hides stretched for drum- 
 heads, that ye may thenceforth make a noise to some purpose !" 
 
 This threat, and the tremendous voice in which it was ut- 
 tered, caused the whole multitude to quake with fear. The 
 hair of the orator arose on his head like his own swine's 
 bristles, and not a knight of the thimble present but his heart 
 died within him, and he felt as though he could have verily 
 escaped through the eye of a needle. 
 
 But though this measure produced the desired effect in re- 
 ducing the community to order, yet it tended to injure the 
 popidarity of the great Peter among the enlightened vulgar. 
 Many accused him of entertaining highly aristocratic senti- 
 ments, and of leaning too much in favour of the patricians. 
 Tndeed, there appeared to be some ground for such an accusa- 
 tion, as he always carried himself with a very lofty, soldier- 
 Hke port, and was somewhat particular in his dress ; dressing 
 himseff, when not in uniform, in simple, but rich apparel, and 
 vv^as especially noted for having his sound leg (which was a 
 very comely one) always arrayed in a red stocking, and liigh- 
 heelcd shoe. Though a man of great simplicity of manners, 
 yet there was something about him that repelled rude famih- 
 arity, while it encouraged frank, and even social intercourse. 
 
 He likewise observed some appearance of court ceremony 
 and etiquette. He received the common class of visitors on 
 the stoop^ before his door according to the custom of our 
 Dutch ancestors. But when visitors were formally received 
 in his parlour, it was expected they would appear in clean 
 linen ; by no means to be bare-footed, and always to take their 
 hats off. On public occasions, he appeared with great pomp of 
 equipage, (for, in truth, his station required a little show and 
 
 * Properly spelled stoeh—fhQ porch commonly built in front of Dutfh houses, 
 with benches on each side. 
 
200 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK, 
 
 dignity) and always rode to church in a yellow wagon with 
 flaming red wheels. 
 
 These symptoms of state and ceremony occasioned consider- 
 able discontent among the vidgar. They had been accustomed 
 to find easy access to their former governors, and in particular 
 had lived on terms of extreme familiarity with William the 
 Testy. They therefore were very impatient of these dignified 
 precautions, which discouraged intrusion. But Peter Stuyve- 
 sant had his o^vn way of thinking in these matters, and was a 
 staunch upholder of the dignity of ofiice. 
 
 He always maintamed that govermnent to be the least popu- 
 lar which is most open to popular access and control ; and that 
 the very brawlers against court ceremony, and the reserve of 
 men in power, would soon despise mlers among, whom they 
 found even themselves to be of consequence. Such, at least, 
 had been the case with the administration of William the 
 Testy ; ^vho, bent on making himself popular, had listened to 
 every man's advice, suffered everj'body to have admittance to 
 his person at all hours, and, in a word, treated every one as his 
 thorough equal. By this means, every scrub politician, and 
 public busy-body, w^as enabled to measure wits with him, and 
 to find out the true dimensions, not only of his person, but his 
 mind. — And what great man can stand such scrutiny? — It is 
 the mystery that envelopes great men that gives thsm half 
 their greatness. We are always inclined to think highly of 
 those who hold themselves aloof from our examination. There 
 is likewise a kind of superstitious reverence for ofiice, which 
 leads us to exaggerate the merits and abilities of men in power, 
 and to suppose that they must be constituted different from 
 other men. And, indeed, faith is as necessary in politics as in 
 religion. It certainly is of the first importance, that a country 
 should be governed by wise men ; but then it is almost equally 
 imT)ortant, that the people should believe them to be "svise ; for 
 this belief alone can produce willing subordination. 
 
 To keep up, therefore, this desirable confidence in rulers, the 
 people should be allowed to see as little of them as possible. 
 He who gains access to cabinets soon finds out by what foolish- 
 ness the world is governed. He discovers that there is quack- 
 ery in legislation, as well as in every thing else ; that many a 
 measure, which is supposed by the miliion to be the result of 
 great wisdom, and deep dehberation, is the effect of mere 
 chance, or, perhaps, of harebrained experiment — that rulers 
 have their whims and errors as well as other men, and after 
 
A HISTORY OF Is EM-YORK. 
 
 all arc not so wonderfully superior to their fellow-creatures as 
 he at first imagined ; since he finds that even his own opinions 
 have had some weight with them. Thus awe sul^sidcs into 
 confidence, confidence inspires familiarity, and familiarity 
 produces contempt. Peter Stiiyvesant, on the contrary, by 
 conducting himself with dignity and loftiness, was looked up 
 to with great reverence. As lie never gave his reasons for any 
 thing he did, the public always gave him credit for very pro- 
 found ones — every movement, however intrinsically unimpor- 
 tant, was a matter of speculation, and his very red stockings 
 excited some respect, as being different from the stockings of 
 other men. 
 
 To these times may we refer the rise of family pride and 
 aristocratic distinctions ;* and indeed, I cannot but look back 
 with reverence to the early planting of those mighty Dutch 
 families, which have taken such vigorous root, and branched 
 out so luxuriantly in our state. The blood which has flowed 
 down uncontaminated through a succession of steady, virtuous 
 generations since the times of the patriarchs of Communipaw, 
 must certainly be pure and worthy. And if so, then are the 
 Van Eensselaers, the Van Zandts, the Van Homes, the Rut- 
 gers, the Bensons, the Brinkerhoffs, the Schermerhornes, and 
 all the true descendants of the ancient Pavonians, the only 
 legitimate nobility and real lords of the soil. 
 
 I have been led to mention thus particularly the well- 
 authenticated claims of our genuine Dutch families, because I 
 have noticed, with great sorrow and vexation, that they have 
 been somewhat elbowed aside in latter days by foreign intrud- 
 ers. It is really astonishing to behold how many great fami- 
 lies have sprung up of late years, who pride themselves exces- 
 sively on the score of ancestry. Thus he who can look up to 
 his father without humiliation assumes not a littJe importance 
 —he who can safely talk of his grandfather, is still more vain- 
 glorious — but he who can look back to his great-grandfather 
 without blushing, is absolutely intolerable in his x^re tensions to 
 f airdly — ^bless us ! what a piece of work is here, between these 
 mushrooms of an hour, and these mushrooms of a day ! 
 
 But from what I have recounted in the former part of this 
 
 * In a work published many years after the time here treated of (in 1701, by C. 
 W. A. M.\ it is mentioned that Frederick Philipse was connted the richest Mynheer 
 in New-York, and was said to have xi^iole hogsheads of Indian vioney or wampum; 
 and had a son and daughter, who, according to the Dutch custom, should divide it 
 equally. 
 
262 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 chapter, I would not have my reader imagine that the gi-eat 
 Peter was a tyrannical governor, ruling his subjects with a i od of 
 iron — on the contrary, where the dignity of authority was not 
 implicated, he abounded wit\\ generosity and courteous con- 
 descension. In fact, he really believed, though I fear my 
 more enlightened republican readers will consider it a proof of 
 his ignorance aiid illiberality, that in preventing the cup of 
 social life from being dashed with the intoxicating ingredient 
 of politics, he promoted the tranquillity and happiness of the 
 people — and by detaching their minds from subjects which 
 they could not understand, and which only tended to inflame 
 their passions, he enabled them to attend more faithfully and 
 industriously to their proper callings ; becoming more useful 
 citizens, and more attentive to their famihes and fortunes. 
 
 So far from having any unreasonable austerity, he delighted 
 to see the poor and the labouring man rejoice, and for this pur- 
 pose was a great promoter of holydays and pubhc amusements. 
 Under his reign was first introduced the custom of cracking 
 eggs at Paas, or Easter. New-year's day was also observed 
 with extravagant festivity, and ushered in by the ringing of 
 bells and firing of guns. Every house Vv^as a temple to the jolly 
 god— oceans of cherry brandy, true Hollands, and mulled 
 cider, were set afloat on the occasion ; and not a poor man in 
 town but made it a point to get drunk, out of a principle of 
 pure economy — taking in liquor enough to serve him for half 
 a year afterwards. 
 
 It would have done one's heart good, also, to have seen the 
 valiant Peter, seated among the old burghers and their wives 
 of a Saturday afternoon, under the great trees that spread 
 their shade over the Battery, watcliing the young men and 
 women, as they danced on the green. Here he would smoke 
 his pipe, crack his joke, and forget the rugged toils of war in 
 the sweet obHvious festivities of peace. He would occasionally 
 give a nod of approbation to those of the young men who 
 shuffled and kicked most vigorously, and now and then give a 
 hearty smack, in aU honesty of soul, to the buxom lass that 
 held out longest, and tired down all her competitors, vdiich he 
 considered as infallible proofs of her being the best dancer. 
 Once, it is true, the harmony of the meeting was rather inter- 
 rupted. A young vrouw, of great figiu-e in the gay world, and 
 who, having lately come from Holland, of course led the fash- 
 ions in the city, made her appearance in not more than half-a- 
 dozen petticoats, and these too of most alarming shortness. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- TORE, 
 
 263 
 
 An universal whisper ran through the assembly, the old ladies 
 all felt shocked in the extreme, the young ladies blushed, and 
 felt excessively for the "poor thing," and even the governoi 
 himself vv^as observed to be a httle troubled in mind. To com- 
 plete the astonishment of the good folks, she undertook, in the 
 course of a jig, to describe some astonishing figures in algebra, 
 which she had learned from a dancing-master at Rotterdam. 
 Whether she was too animated in ilourisning her feet, or 
 whether some vagabond zeyphr took the liberty of obtruding 
 liis services, certain it is that in the course of a grand evolu- 
 tion, wliich would not have disgraced a modern ball-room, she 
 made a most unexpected display — whereat the whole assembly 
 was thrown into great admiration, several grave country 
 members were not a httle moved, and the good Peter himself, 
 who was a man of unparalleled modesty, felt himseK grievously 
 scandalized. 
 
 The shortness of the female dresses, which had continued in 
 fashion ever since the days of William Kief t, had long offended 
 his eye, and though extremely averse to meddhng with the 
 petticoats of the ladies, yet he immediately recommended that 
 every one should be furnished with a flounce to the bottom. 
 He likewise ordered that the ladies, and indeed the gentlemen^ 
 should use no other step in dancing, than shufile-and-turn, and 
 double-trouble; and forbade, under pain of his high displeasure, 
 any young lady thenceforth to attempt what was termed 
 "exhibiting the graces." 
 
 These v/ere the only restrictions he ever imposed upon the 
 sex, and these were considered by them as tyrannical oppres- 
 sions, and resisted with that becoming spirit always mani- 
 fested by the gentler sex, whenever their privileges are 
 invaded. — In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly i)erceived that if 
 ho attempted to push the matter any farther, there was danger 
 of their leaving off petticoats altogether ; so like a wise man, 
 experienced in the v/ays of women, he held his peace, and suf- 
 fered them ever after to wear their petticoats and cut their 
 capers as high as they pleased. 
 
264 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW PETER STUYVESANT WAS MUCH MOLESTED BY THE MOSS- 
 TROOPERS OF THE EAST, AND THE GIANTS OF MERRYLAND— 
 AND HOW A DARK AND HORRID CONSPIRACY WAS CARRIED ON 
 IN THE BRITISH CABINET AGAINST THE PROSPERITY OF THE 
 MANHATTOES. 
 
 We are now approaching towards the crisis of our work, 
 and if I be not mistaken in my forebodings, we shall have a 
 world of business to despatch in the ensuing chapters. 
 
 It is with some conmiunities, as it is with certain meddle- 
 some individuals, they have a wonderful facility at getting 
 into scrapes ; and I have always remarked, that those are most 
 Liable to get in who have the least talent at getting out again. 
 This is, doubtless, owing to the excessive valour of those 
 states; for I have hkewise noticed that this rampant and 
 ungovernable quality is always most unruly where most con- 
 fined ; which accounts for its vapouring so amazingly in little 
 states, httle men, and ugly httle women especially . 
 
 Thus, when one reflects, that the province of the Manhattoes, 
 though of prodigious importance in the eyes of its inhabitants 
 and its historian, was really of no very great consequence in 
 the eyes of the rest of the world ; that it had but little wealth 
 or other spoUs to reward the trouble of assailing it, and that it 
 had nothing to expect from running wantonly into war, save an 
 exceeding good beating.— On pondering these things, I say, on ■ 
 would utterly despair of finding in its history either battles 
 bloodshed, or any other of those calamities which give impor 
 tance to a nation, and entertainment to the reader. But, on 
 the contrary, we find, so valiant is this province, that it has* 
 already drawn upon itself a host of enemies ; has had as many 
 buffetings as would gratify the ambition of the most warlike 
 nation ; and is, in sober sadness, a very forlorn, distressed, and 
 woe-begone little province ! — ail which was, no doubt, kindly 
 ordered by Providence, to give interest and subhniity to thi; 
 pathetic history. 
 
 But I forbear to enter into a detail of the pitiful maraudings 
 and harassments, that, for a long while after the victory on 
 the Delaware, continued to insult the dignity, and disturb the 
 repose, of the Nederlanders. Sufljce it in brevity to say, that 
 
A imSTOUY OF Is' KW- YORK. 
 
 265 
 
 the implacable hostility of the people of the east, which had 
 so miraculously been prevented from breaking out, as my 
 readers must remember, by the sudden prevalence of witch- 
 craft, and the dissensions in the council of Amphyctions, now 
 again displayed itself in a thousand grievous and bitter 
 scourings upon the borders. 
 
 Scarcely a month passed but vv^hat the Dutch settlements on 
 the frontiers were alarmed by the sudden appearance of an 
 invading army from Connecticut. This would advance reso- 
 lutely through the country, hke a puissant caravan of the 
 deserts, the women and children mounted in carts loaded with 
 pots and kettles, as though they meant to boil the honest 
 Dutchmen alive, and devour them like so many lobsters. At 
 the tails of these carts would stalk a crew of long-limbed, lank- 
 sided varlets, with axes on their shoulders and packs on their 
 backs, resolutely bent upon improving the country in despite 
 of its proprietors. These, settling themselves down, would in 
 a short time completelj^ dislodge the unfortunate Nederland- 
 ers ; elbowing them out of those rich bottoms and fertile val- 
 leys, in which our Dutch yeomanry are so famous for nestling 
 themselves. For it is notorious, that wherever these shrewd 
 men of the east get a footing, the honest Dutchmen do gradu- 
 ally disappear, retiring slowly, hke the Indians before the 
 whites; being totally discomfited by the talking, chaffering, 
 swapping, bargaining disposition of their new neighbours. 
 
 All these audacious infringements on the territories of their 
 High Mightinesses were accompanied, as has before been 
 hinted, by a world of rascally brawls, ribroastings, and bund- 
 lings, which would doubtless have incensed the valiant Peter 
 to wreak immediate chastisement, had he not at the very same 
 time been perplexed by distressing accounts from Mynlieer 
 Beckman, who commanded the territories at South river. 
 
 The restless Sv^edes, who had so graciously been suffered to 
 remain about the Delaware, already began to show signs of 
 mutiny and disaffection. But what was worse, a peremptory 
 claim was laid to the whole territory, as the rightful property 
 of Lord Baltimore, by Feudal, a chieftain who ruled over the 
 colony of Maryland, or Merry -land, as it was anciently called, 
 because that the inhabitants, not having the fear of the Lord 
 before their eyes, were notoriously prone to get fuddled ond 
 make merry with mint-julep and apple-toddy. Nay, so hostile 
 was this bully Feudal, that he threatened, unless his claim was 
 instantly complied with, to march incontinently at the head of 
 
266 
 
 A niSTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 a potent force of the roaring boys of !Merry-land, together with 
 a great and mighty train of giants, who infested the banks of 
 the Susquehanna* — and to lay waste and depopulate the whole 
 country of South river. 
 
 By this it is manifest, that this boasted colony, like all great 
 acquisitions of territory, soon became a greater evil to the con- 
 queror than the loss of it was to the conquered ; and caused 
 greater uneasmess and trouble than all the territory of the 
 New-Netherlands besides. Thus Providence wisely orders that 
 one evil shall balance another. The conqueror who wrests the 
 property of his neighbour, who wi'ongs a nation and desolates 
 a country, though he may acquire increase of empu-e and im- 
 mortal fame, yet insures his own inevitable pmiishment. He 
 takes to himseK a cause of endless anxiety — he incorporates 
 with his late sound domain a loose part— a rotten, disaffected 
 member; which is an exhaustless source of internal treason 
 and disunion, and external altercation and hostihty. Happy 
 is that nation, which compact, united, loyal in all its parts, and 
 concentrated in its strength, seeks no idle acquisition of un- 
 profitable and ungovernable territory— which, content to be 
 prosperous and happy, has no ambition to be great. It is like 
 a man well organized in his system, sound in health, and full 
 of vigour : unencumbered by useless trappings, and fixed in an 
 unshaken attitude. But the nation, insatiable of territory, 
 whose domains are scattered, feebly united and weakly organ- 
 ized, is like a senseless miser sprawhng among golden stores, 
 open to every attack, and miable to defend the riches he vainly 
 endeavours to overshadow. 
 
 At the time of receiving the alarming despatches from South 
 river, the great Peter was busily employed in queUing certain 
 Indian troubles that had broken out about Esopus, and Avas 
 moreover meditating how to reheve his eastern borders on the 
 Connecticut. He, however, sent word to Mynheer Beckman 
 to be of good heart, to maintain mcessant vigilance, and to let 
 
 * We find very curious and wondei-ful accounts of these strange people (who 
 were doubtless the ancestors of the present Mar>ianders') made by IMaster Hariot, 
 in his interesting' history. '"The Supquesahanocks." observer he," are a giantly 
 people, strange in proportion, behaviour, and attire— their voice sounding froin 
 them as if out of a cave. Their tobacco-pipes were three quartei-s of a yai-d long, 
 carved at the great end with a bird, beare, or other device, sufficient to beat out 
 the braines of a horse, (and how many asses braines are beaten out. or rather 
 men's braines smoked out, and asses braines haled in, by our lesser pipes athomp 
 The calfe of one of their legges measured tliree quarters of a yard alx)r.t, the res 
 of his limbs proportionable."— Har lot's Toiirn. Purch. Pil. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 
 
 2m 
 
 him know if matters wore a more threatening appearance ; in 
 which case he would incontinently repair with his warriors of 
 the Hudson, to spoil the merriment of these Merry-landers; 
 for he coveted exceedingly to have a bout, hand to hand, Vv^itli 
 some half a score of these giants— having never encountered a 
 giant in liis whole life, unless we may so call the stout Risingh, 
 and he was but a little one. 
 
 Nothing farther, however, occurred to molest the tran- 
 quillity of Mynheer Beckman and his colony. Feudal and 
 his myrmidons remained at home, carousing it soundly upon 
 hoe-cakes, bacon, and mint-julep, and rumung horses, and 
 fighting cocks, for which they were greatly renowned. — At 
 hearing o± tliis, Peter Stuyvesant was very well pleased, for 
 notwithstanding his inclination to measure weapons with 
 these monstrous men of the Susquehanna, yet he had already 
 as much employment nearer home as he could turn his hands 
 to. Little did he think, worthy soul, that this southern calm 
 was but the deceitful prelude to a most terrible and fatal 
 storm, then brevfing, which was soon to burst forth and over- 
 whelm the unsuspecting city of New- Amsterdam. 
 
 Now so it was, that while this excellent governor was giving 
 his little senate laws, and not only giving them, but enforcing 
 them too— while he was incessantly travelhng the rounds of 
 his beloved province— posting from place to place to redress 
 gi-ievances, and while busy at one corner of his dominions, all 
 the rest getting into an uproar— at this very time, I say, a 
 dark and direful plot was hatching against him, in that 
 nursery of monstrous projects, the British cabinet. The news 
 of his achievements on the Delaware, according to a sage old 
 historian of New- Amsterdam, had occasioned not a little talk 
 and mai'vel in the courts of Europe. And the same profound 
 writer assm^es us, that the cabinet of England began to enter- 
 tain great jealousy and uneasiness at the increasing power of 
 the Manhattoes, and the valour of its sturdy yeomanry. 
 
 Agents, the same historian observes, were sent by the Am- 
 phyctionic council of the east to entreat the assistance of the 
 British cabinet in subjugating this mighty province. Lord 
 Sterling also asserted his right to Long Island, and at the same 
 time. Lord Baltimore, whose agent, as has before been men- 
 tioned, had so alarmed Mynheer Beckman, laid his clami be- 
 fore the cabinet to the lands of South river, which he com- 
 plained were unjustly and forcibly detained from him by these 
 daring usuri^ers of the Nieuw-Nederlandts. 
 
268 
 
 A HISTORY OF JS'EW-YORK. 
 
 Thus did the unlucky empire of the Manhattoes stand in 
 imminent danger of experiencing the fate of Poland, and 
 being torn limb from limb to be shared among its savage 
 neighbours. But while these rapacious powers were whetting 
 their fangs, and waiting for the signal to fall tooth and naiJ 
 upon this dehcious httle fat Dutch empire, the lordly lion, who 
 sat as umpire, all at once settled the claims of all parties, by 
 laying tliis own paw upon the spoil. For we are told that his 
 majesty, Charles the Second, not to be perplexed by adjusting 
 these several pretensions, made a present of a large tract of 
 North America, including the province of New-Netherlands, to 
 his brother, the Duke of York— a donation tndy loyal, since 
 none but great monarchs have a right to give away what does 
 not belong to them. 
 
 That this mimificent gift might not be merely nominal, his 
 majesty, on the 12th of March, 1664, ordered that an armament 
 should be forthwith prepared, to invade the city of New- Am- 
 sterdam by land and water, and put his brother in complete 
 possession of the premises. 
 
 Thus critically are situated the affairs of the New-Nether- 
 landers. The honest burghers, so far from thinking of the 
 jeopardy in which their interests are placed, are soberly 
 smoking their pipes, and thinking of notliing at all— the privy 
 counsellors of the province are at this moment snoring in full 
 quorum, while the acting Peter, who takes all the labour of 
 thinking and active upon himself, is busily devising some 
 method of bringing the gi*and council of Amphyctions to 
 terms. In the meanwhile, an angry cloud is darkly scowhng 
 on the horizon — soon shall it rattle about the ears of these 
 dozing Nederlanders, and put the mettle of their stout-hearted 
 governor completely to the trial. 
 
 But come what may, I here pledge my veracity that in all 
 wariilie conflicts and subtle perplexities, he shall still acquit 
 himself with the gallant bearing and spotless honour of a 
 noble-minded, obstinate old cavaher.— Forward then to the 
 charge!— shine out, propitious stars, on the renowned city of 
 the ]\Ianhattoes ; And may the blessing of St. Nicholas go with 
 thee— honest Peter Stuyvesant ! 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF PETER STUYVESANT'S EXPEDITION INTO THE EAST COUNTRY, 
 SHOWING THAT THOUGH AN OLD BIRD HE DID NOT UNDER- 
 STAND TRAP. 
 
 Great nations resemble great men in this particular, that 
 their grca^tness is seldom known until thej^ get in trouble; 
 adversity, therefore, has been wisely denominated the ordeal 
 of true greatness, which, hke gold, can never receive its real 
 estimation, until it has passed through the furnace. In pro- 
 portion, therefore, as a nation, a community, or an individual 
 (possessing the inherent quahty of greatness) is involved in 
 perils and misfortunes, in proportion does it rise in grandeur— 
 and even when sinking under calamity, makes, like a house 
 on fire, a more glorious display tlian ever it did in the fairest 
 period of its prosperity. 
 
 The vast empii-e of China, though teeming with population 
 and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of nations, has 
 vegetated through a succession of drowsy ages ; and were it 
 not for its internal revolution, and the subversion of its ancient 
 government by the Tartars, might have presented nothing but 
 an uninteresting detail of dull, monotonous prosperity. Pom- 
 peii and Herculaneum might have passed into obhvion, with a 
 herd of their contemporaries, if they had not been fortunately 
 overAvhelmed by a volcano. The rencAvned city of Troy has 
 acquired celebrity only from its tsn years' distress, and final 
 conflagration— Paris rises in importance by the plots and mas- 
 sacres which have ended in the exaltation of the illustrious 
 Kapoleon — and even the mighty London itself has skulked 
 through the records of time, celebrated for nothing of moment, 
 excepting the plague, the great fire, and Guy Faux's gun- 
 powder plot!— Thus cities and empires seem to creep along, 
 enlarging in silent obscurity under the pen of the historian, 
 until at length they burst forth in some tremendous calamity 
 — and snatch, as it were, immortality from the explosion I 
 
 The above principle being admitted, my reader will plainly 
 perceive that the city of New-Am^sterdam, and its dependent 
 province, are on the high road to greatness. Dangers and 
 hostilities threaten from every side, and it is really a matter 
 of astonishment to me, how so small a state has been able, in 
 
270 
 
 A HISrORT OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 so short a time, to entangle itself in so many difficulties. 
 Ever since the pi-ovince was first taken by the nose, at the 
 Fort of Good Hope, iii the tranquil days of Wouter Van 
 Twiller, has it been gradually increasing in historic import- 
 ance ; and never could it have had a more appropriate cliief- 
 tain to conduct it to the pinnacle of grandeur, than Peter 
 Stuyvesant. 
 
 In the fiery heart of this iron-headed old warrior sat en- 
 throned all those five kinds of courage described by Aristotle, 
 and had the philosopher mentioned five hundred more to the 
 back of them, I verily believe he would have been found mas- 
 ter of them all. The only misfortune was, that he was defi- 
 cient in the better part of valour, called discretion, a cold- 
 blooded virtue which could not exist in the tropical climate of 
 his mighty soul. Hence it was, he was continually hurrying 
 into those unheard-of enterprises that gave an air of chivalric 
 romance to all his history, and hence it was* that he now con- 
 ceived a project worthy of the hero of La Mancha Mm self. 
 
 This was no other than to repair in person to the great 
 council of the Amphyctions, bearing the sword in one hand 
 and the ohve-branch in the other— to require immediate repa- 
 ration for the innumerable violations of that treaty which in 
 an evil hour he had formed — to put a stop to those repeated 
 maraudings on the eastern borders— or else to throw his 
 gauntlet and appeal to arms for satisfaction. 
 
 On declaring this resolution in liis privy council, the vener- 
 able members were seized with vast astonishment ; for once in 
 their fives they ventured to remonstrate, setting forth the 
 rashness of exposing his sacred person in the midst of a strange 
 and barbarous people, with sundry other weighty remon- 
 strances—all which had about as much influence upon the 
 determination of the headstrong Peter as though you were to 
 endeavour to turn a rusty weathercock with a broken- winded 
 bellows. 
 
 Summoning, therefore, to liis presence his trusty follower, 
 Antony Van Corlear, he commanded him to hold himself in 
 readiness to accompany him the following morning on this his 
 hazardous enterprise. Now Antony the trumpeter was a httle 
 stricken in years, yet by dint of keeping up a good heart, and 
 having never known care or sorrow, (having never been mar- 
 ried,) he was still a hearty, jocund, rubicund, gamesome wag, 
 and of great capacity in the doublet. This last was ascribed to 
 bis living a jolly life on those domains at the Hook, which 
 
A JITSTOBY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 271 
 
 Peter Stuy vosant had granted to him for his gallantry at Fort 
 Casimir. 
 
 Be this as it may, there was nothing that more delighted 
 Antony than this command of the great Peter, for he could 
 have followed the stout-hearted old governor to the world's 
 end with love and loyalty — and he moreover still remembered 
 the frolicking, and dancing, and bundling, and other disports 
 of the east country, and entertained dainty recollection of 
 numerous kind and buxom lasses, whom he longed exceedingly 
 again to encoimter. 
 
 Thus, then, did this mirror of hardihood set forth, with 
 no other attendant but his trumpeter, upon one of the most 
 perilous enterprises ever recorded in the annals of knight- 
 errantry. For a single warrior to venture openly among a 
 whole nation of foes; but above all, for a plain downright 
 Dutchman to think of negotiating with the whole council of 
 New-England — never was there known a more desperate un- 
 dertaking !— Ever since I have entered upon the clironicles of 
 this peerless, but hitherto uncelebrated, chieftain, has he kept 
 me in a state of incessant action and anxiety with the toils and 
 dangers he is constantly encoimtering. — Oh! for a chapter of 
 the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, that I might repose 
 on it as on a feather bed ! 
 
 Is it not enough, Peter Stuyvesant, that I have once already 
 rescued thee from the macliinations of these terrible Amphyc- 
 tions, by bringing the whole powers of witchcraft to thine 
 aid? — Isifcnot enough that I have followed thee undaunted, 
 like a guardian spirit, into the midst of the horrid battle of 
 Fort Christina?— That I have been put incessantly to my 
 trumps to keep thee safe and sound— now warding off with my 
 single pen the shower of dastard blows that fell upon thy rear 
 — now narrovv'ly shielding thee from a deadly thrust, by a, 
 mere tobacco-box — now casing thy dauntless skull with ada- 
 mant, when even thy stubborn ram-beaver failed to resist the 
 sword of the stout Pisingh— and now, not merely bringing 
 thee off alive, but triumphant, from the clutches of the gigan- 
 tic Swede, by the desperate means of a paltry stone pottle?-- 
 Is not aU this enough, but must thou still be plunging into 
 new difficulties, and jeopardizing in headlong enterprises, thy- 
 self, thy trumpeter, and thy historian? 
 
 And now the ruddy-faced Aurora, like a buxom chamber- 
 maid, draws aside the sable curtains of the night, and out 
 bounces from his bed the jolly red-haired Phoebus, startled at 
 
272 
 
 .1 IIISTOIIY OF JS'EW-YGRK. 
 
 being caught so late in tlie embraces of Dame Thetis. "With 
 many a sable oath, he harnesses his brazen-footed steeds, and 
 whips and lashes, and splashes up the lirmOvment, like a loiter- 
 ing i)ost-boy, half an hour behind his time. And now behold 
 tliat imp of fame and prowess, the headstrong Peter, bestrid- 
 ing a raw-boned, switch-tailed charger, gallantly arrayed in 
 full regimentals, and bracing on his thigh that trusty brass 
 hilted sword, which had wrought such fearful deeds on the 
 banks of the Delaware. 
 
 Behold, hard after liim, his douglity trumpeter Van Corlear, 
 mounted on a broken-mnded, wall-eyed, cahco mare ; his stone 
 pottle, which had laid \osy the mighty Risingh, slung under his 
 arm, and his trumi^et displayed vauntmgly in his right hand, 
 decorated with a gorgeous banner, on which is emblazoned the 
 great beaver of the I.Ianhattoes. See them proudly issuing 
 out of the city gate like an iron-clad hero of yore, with his 
 faithful 'squire at his heels, the populace following them with 
 their eyes, and shouting many a parting wish and hearty 
 cheering. — Farewell, Ilardkoppig Piet! Farewell, honest An- 
 tony! — Pleasant be your wayfaring — prosperous your return! 
 The stoutest hero that ever drew a sword, and the worthiest 
 trumpeter that ever trod shoe-leather ! 
 
 Legends are lamentably silent about the events that befell our 
 adventurers in this their adventurous travel, excepting the 
 Stuyvesant manusoript, which gives the substance of a pleas- 
 ant little heroic poem written on the occasion by Domuii 
 ^gidius Luyck,* who appears to have been the poet laureat 
 of New- Amsterdam. This inestimable manuscript assures us 
 that it was a rare spectacle to behold the great Peter and his 
 loyal follower hailing the morning sun, and rejoicing in tho 
 clear countenance of nature, as they pranced it tlirougli the 
 pastoral scenes of Bloemen Dael : + which in those days was a 
 sweet and rural valley, beautified with many a bright wild 
 flower, refreshed by many a pure streamlet, and enhvened 
 here and there by a delectable little Dutch cottage, sheltered 
 under some sloping hill, and almost buried in embowering 
 trees. . 
 
 Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecticut, where 
 they encountered many gi-ievous difficulties and pei-ils. At 
 
 * This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin School in Nieuw-Nederlandt, 
 1683. There are two pieces addressed to ^jridius I.uyck, in D. Selj^n's MSS. o^ 
 poesies, upon his marriag:e with Judith Isendoorn. Old MS. 
 
 t Now called Blooming Dale, about four miles from New- York. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 273 
 
 one place thoy were assailed by a troop of country 'squires and 
 militia colonels, who, mounted on goodly steeds, hung upon 
 their rear for several mile^, harassing them exceedingly with 
 guesses and questions, more especially the worthy Peter, whoso 
 j silver-chased leg excited not a little marvel. At another place, 
 I hard by the renowned town of Stamford, they were set upon 
 by a great and mighty legion of church deacons, wlio impcri- 
 (nisly demanded of them five shillings, for travelling on Sun- 
 flay, and threatened to carry them captive to a neighbouring 
 churcli, whose steeple peered above the trees; but these the 
 valiant Peter put to rout with httle difficulty, insomuch that 
 tliey bestrode their canes and g;alloped off in horrible con- 
 ! fusion, leaving their cocked hats behind in the hurry of their 
 flight. But not so easily did he escape from the hands of 
 a crafty man of Piquag; who, with undaimted perseverance, 
 and repeated onsets, fairly bargained him out of his goodly 
 switched-tailed charger, leaving in place thereof a villainous 
 foundered Narraganset pacer. 
 
 But, maugre all these hardsliips, they pursued their journey 
 cheerily along the course of the soft flowing Connecticut, 
 whose gentle waves, says the song, roll through many a fer- 
 tile vale and sunny plain ; now reflecting the lofty spires of the 
 bustling city, and now the rural beauties of the humble ham- 
 let ; now echoing with the busy hum of commerce, and now 
 with the cheerful song of the peasant. 
 
 At every town would Peter Stuyvesant, who was noted for 
 warlike punctilio, order the sturdy Antony to soimd a cour- 
 teous salutation; though the manuscript observes, that the 
 inhabitants were thrown into gi^eat dismay when they heard 
 of his approach. For the fame of his incomparable achieve- 
 ments on the Delaware had spread thi'oughout the cast coun- 
 try, and they dreaded lest he had come to take vengeance on 
 their manifold transgressions. 
 
 But the good Peter rode through these towns with a smiling 
 aspect; waving his hand with inexpressible majesty and con- 
 descension ; for he verily believed that the old clothes which 
 these ingenious people had thrust into their broken windows, 
 and the festoons of dried apples and peaches which ornamented 
 the fronts of their houses, were so many decorations in honour 
 of his approach ; as it was the custom, in the days of chivalry, 
 to compliment reno^\^led heroes by sumptuous displays of 
 tapestry and gorgeous furniture. The women crowded to the 
 doors to gaze upon him as he passed, so much does prowess in 
 
274 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK 
 
 arms delight the gentle sex. The little children, too, ran after 
 him in troops, staring with wonder at his regimentals, liia 
 brimstone breeches, and the silver garnitm^e of his wooden 
 leg. Nor must I omit to mention the joy which many strap- 
 ping wenches betrayed at beholding the jovial Van Corlear, 
 who had whilom delighted them so much with his trumpet, 
 when he bore the great Peter's challenge to the Amphyctions. 
 The kind-hearted Antony alighted from his calico mare, and 
 kissed them ail with infinite loving kindness— and was riglit 
 plepvSed to see a crew of httle trimipeters crowding around him 
 tor his blessing ; each of whom he patted on the head, bade 
 him be a good boy, and gave him a penny to buy molasses 
 candy. 
 
 The Stuyvesant manuscript makes but little farther mention 
 of the governor's adventures upon this expedition, excepting 
 that he was received with extravagant courtesy and respect 
 by the great council of the Amphyctions, who almost talked 
 him to death with complimentary and congratulatory ha- 
 rangues. I will not detain my readers by dweUing on his 
 negotiations with the grand council. Suffice it to mention, it 
 was like all other negotiations — a great deal was said, and very 
 httle done: one conversation led to another — one conference 
 begat misunderstandings wliich it took a dozen conferences to 
 explain ; at the end of which, the parties found themselves just 
 wliere they were at first ; exceptiag that they had entangled 
 themselves in a host of questions of etiquette, and conceived a 
 cordial distrust of each other, that rendered their future nego- 
 tiations ten times more difficult than ever.* 
 
 In the midst of all these perplexities, which bewildered the 
 brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, who was per- 
 haps of all men in the world least fitted for diplomatic wiles, 
 he privately received the first intimation of the dark con- 
 spiracy which had been matured in the Cabinet of England. 
 To this was added the astounding intelligence that a hostile 
 squadron had already sailed from England, destined to reduce 
 the province of New-Netherlands, and that the grand council 
 of Amphyctions had engaged to co-operate, by sending a great 
 army to invade New- Amsterdam by land. 
 
 Unfortunate Peter! did I not enter with sad foreboding 
 
 * For certain ot the particulars of this ancient negotiation see Haz. Col. State 
 Papers. It is singular that Smith is entirely silent with respect to this memorably 
 expedition of Peter Stuyvesant 
 
A IILSTORl' OF ^EW YORK. 
 
 275 
 
 ui^on this ill-starred expedition? did I not tremble when 1 saw 
 thee, with no other counsellor but thine own head, with no 
 other armour but an honest tongue, a spotless conscience, and 
 a rusty sword ! with no other protector but St. Nicholas— and 
 no other attendant but a trumpeter— did I not tremble when I 
 beheld thee thus sally forth to contend with all the knowing 
 powers of New-England? 
 
 Oh, how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, when ho 
 found himself thus entrapped, like a lion in the hunter's toil ! 
 Now did he determine to draw his trusty sword, and manfully 
 to fight his way through all the countries of the east. Now 
 did he resolve to break in upon the council of the Amphyc- 
 tions, and put every mother's son of them to death. At length, 
 as his direful wrath subsided, he resorted to safer though less 
 glorious expedients. 
 
 ConceeJing from the council his knowledge of their machi- 
 nations, he privately dispatched a trusty messenger, with mis- 
 sives to his counsellors at New- Amsterdam, apprising them of 
 the impending danger, commanding them immediately to put 
 the city in a posture of defence, while in the meantime he 
 would endeavour to elude his enemies and come to their assist- 
 ance. This done, he felt himself marvellously relieved, rose 
 slowly, shook himself like a rhinoceros, and issued forth from 
 his den, in much the same manner as Giant Despair is de- 
 scribed to have issued .from Doubting Castle, in the chivaMc 
 history of the Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 And now, much does it grieve me that I must leave the gal- 
 lant Peter in this imminent jeopardy: but it behoves us to 
 hurry back and see Avhat is going on at New -Amsterdam, for 
 greatly do I fear that city is already in a turmoil. Such was 
 ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant; while doing one thing with 
 heart and soul, he was too apt to leave every thing else at 
 sixes and sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, he was 
 absent, attending to those things in person, which in modern 
 days are trusted to generals and ambassadors, his little terri- 
 tory at home was sure to get in an uproar. — All which was 
 owing to that uncommon strength of intellect which induced 
 him to trust to nobody but himself, and which had acquired 
 him the renowned appellation of Peter the Headstrong. 
 
276 
 
 A mSTORY OF NEW-YOllK. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW THE PEOPLE OF NEW-AMSTERDAM WERE THROWN INTO A 
 , GREAT PANIC, BY THE NEWS OF A THREATENED INVASION, 
 AND THE MANNER IN WHICH THEY FORTIFIED THEMSELVES. 
 
 There is no sight more truly interesting to a philosopher, 
 than to contemplate a community, where every individual has 
 a voice in public affairs, where every individual thinks him- 
 self the Atlas of the nation, and where every individual thinks 
 it Ills duty to bestir hunself for the good of his country. — 
 I say, there is nothing more interesting to a philosopher, than 
 to see such a comnmnity in a sudden bustle of war. Such a 
 clamour of tongues — such a bawling of patriotism— such run- 
 ning hither and tliither— every body in a hurry —every body 
 up to the ears in trouble— every body in the way, and every 
 body interruptmg his industrious neighbour — who is busily 
 employed m doing nothing ! It is like witnessing a great fire, 
 where everj^ man is at work hke a hero— some dragging about 
 empty engines — others scampermg with full buckets, and spill- 
 ing the contents into the boots of their neighbours — and others 
 ringing the church bells aU raght, by way of putting out the 
 fire. Little firemen, like sturdy little knights storming a 
 breach, clambering up and down scahng-ladders, and bawling 
 through tin trumpets, by way of directing the attack.— Here 
 one busy fellow, in his great zeal to save the property of the 
 unfortunate, catches up an anonymous chamber utensil, and 
 gallants it oif with an air of as much self-importance, as if he 
 had rescued a pot of money— another throws lookmg-glasses 
 and ciiina out of the wmdow, to save them from the flames, 
 whilst those who can do nothing else to as;'ist tlie great calam- 
 ity, run up and down the streets w4th open thi'oats, keeping 
 up an incessant cry of Fire ! Fire ! Fire I 
 
 "When the news arrived at Sinope," says the grave and 
 profound Lucian— though I own the story is rather trite, " that 
 Philip was about to attack them, the inhabitants were thrown 
 into violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their arms; others 
 rolled stones to build up the walls— every body, in short, was 
 employed, and every body was in the way of Ins neighbour. 
 Diogenes alone was the only man who could find notliing to do 
 — whereujjon, determining not to be idle when the welfare 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 277 
 
 his country was at stake, he tucked up his robe, and fell to 
 rolling his tub with might and main up and down the Gymna- 
 sium." In like manner did every mother's son, in the patriotic 
 community of New- Amsterdam, on receiving the missives oi 
 Peter Stuyvesant, busy himself most mightily in putting 
 things in confusion, and assisting the general uproar. " Every 
 man"— saith the Stuyvesant manuscript—" flew to arms!"— by 
 which is meant, that not one of our honest Dutch citizens 
 would venture to church or to market, T\athout an old-fash- 
 ioned spit of a sword danghng at his side, and a long Dutch 
 fowhng-piece on his shoulder— nor would he go out of a night 
 without a lantern; nor turn a corner without first peeping 
 cautiously round, lest he should come unawares upon a British 
 army. — And we are infonned that Stoffel Brinkerhoif, who 
 was considered by the old women almost as brave a man as 
 the governor himself — actually had two one-pound swivels 
 mounted in his entry, one pointing out at the front door, and 
 the other at the back. 
 
 But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this awful 
 occasion, and one which has since been found of wonderful 
 eflicacy, was to assemble popular meetings. These brawling 
 convocations, I have already shown, were extremely offensive 
 to Peter Stuyvesant, but as this was a moment of imusual agi- 
 tation, and as the old governor was not present to repress 
 them, they broke out vnth intolerable violence. Hither, there- 
 fore, the orators and politicians repaired, and there seemed to 
 be a competition among them w^ho should bawl the loudest, 
 and exceed the others in hyperbohcal bursts of patriotism, 
 and in resolutions to uphold and defend the Government. In 
 these sage and all-powerful meetings, it was determined, 7ie'in. 
 con., that they were the most enlightened, the most dignified, 
 the most formidable, and the most ancient community upon 
 the face of the earth. Finding that this resolution was so uni- 
 versally and readily carried, another was immediately pro- 
 posed — whether it were not possible and politic to exterminate 
 Great Britain? upon which sixty-nine members spoke most 
 eloquently in the afiirmative, and only one rose to suggest 
 some doubts— who, as a punishment for his treasonable pre- 
 sumption, was immediately seized by the mob, and tarred and 
 feathered — which punishment being equivalent to the Tarpeian 
 Rock, he was af terwai-ds considered as an outcast from societ^^ 
 and liis opinion went for iiothmg. The question, therefore, 
 being unanimously carried in the afiirmative, it was rccom- 
 
278 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK 
 
 mended to the grand council to pass it into a law; which was 
 accordingly done.— By this measure, the hearts of the people 
 at large were wonderfully encouraged, and they waxed exceed- 
 ing choleric and valorous. Indeed, the first paroxysm of 
 alarm having in some measure subsided ; the old women hav- 
 ing buried all the money they could lay their hands on, and 
 their husbands daily getting fuddled with what was left— the 
 community began even to stand on the offensive. Songs were 
 manufactured in Low Dutch, and sung about the streets, 
 wherein the English were most woefully beaten, and shown no 
 quarter; and popular addresses were made, wherein it was 
 proved to a certainty that the fate of Old England depended 
 upon the will of New-Amsterdammers. 
 
 Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of Great 
 Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants assembled, and 
 having i3urchased aU the British manufactures they could find, 
 they made thereof a huge bonfire ; and in the patriotic glow of 
 the moment, every man present, who had a hat or breeches of 
 English workmanship, puUed it off, and threw it most un- 
 dauntedly into the flames— to the irreparable detriment, loss, 
 and ruin of the English manufacturers. In comm.emoration of 
 tliis great exploit, they erected a pole on the spot, with a de- 
 vice on the top intended to represent the province of Nieuw- 
 Nederlandts destroying Great Britain, under the similitude of 
 an eagle picking the little island of Old England out of the 
 globe ; but either through the miskiK ulness of the sculptor, or 
 his ill-timed waggery, it bore a striking resemblance to a 
 goose vainly striving to get hold of a dmnpling. 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE GIIAND COUNCIL OF THE NEV/-NETHERLANI>^ 
 CAME TO BE MIRACULOUSLY GIFTED V/ITH LONG TONGUES- 
 TOGETHER WITH A GREAT TRIUMPH OP ECONOMY. 
 
 It win need but very little penetration in any one ac- 
 quainted with the character and habits of that most potent 
 and blustering monarch, the sovereign people, to discover 
 that, notwithstanding all the bustle and talk of war that 
 stunned him in the last chapter, the renowned city of New- 
 
A HISTORY OB' NEW-YORK. 
 
 270 
 
 Amsterdam is, in sad reality, not a whit better prepared for 
 defence than before. Now, though the people, having gotten 
 over the first alaiTn, and finding no enemy immediately at 
 hand, had, with that valour of tongue for which your illustri- 
 ous rabble is so famous, run into the opposite extreme, and by 
 dint of gallant vapouring and rodomontado, had actually- 
 talked themselves into the opinion that they were the bravest 
 and most powerful people under the sun, yet were the privy 
 counsellors of Peter Stuyvesant somewhat dubious on that 
 point. They dreaded moi'eover lest that stein hero should re- 
 turn, and find, that instead of obeying his peremptory orders, 
 they had wasted their time in listening to the hectorings of the 
 mob, than which, they well knew, there was nothing he held 
 in more exalted contempt. 
 
 To make up, therefore, as speedily as possible, for lost time, 
 a grand divan of the counsellors and burgomasters was con- 
 vened, to talk over the critical state of the province, and de- 
 vise measures for its safety. Two things were unanimously 
 agreed upon in this venerable assembly: — first, that the city 
 required to be put in a state of defence ; and, secondly, that as 
 the danger was imminent, there should be no time lost — which 
 points being settled, they immediately fell to making long 
 speeches, and belabouring one another in endless and intem- 
 perate disputes. For about this time was this unhappy city 
 first visited by that talking endemic, so universally prevalent 
 in this country, and which so invariably evinces itself wher- 
 ever a nmnber of wise men assemble together ; breaking out in 
 long, windy speeches, caused, as physicians suppose, by the 
 foul air which is ever generated in a crowd. Now it was, more- 
 over, that they first introduced the ingenious method of meas- 
 uring the merits of a harangue by the hour-glass; he being 
 considered the ablest orator who spoke longest on a question. 
 For which excellent invention, it is recorded, we are indebted 
 to the same profound Dutch critic who judged of books by 
 their size. 
 
 This sudden passion for endless harangues, so Httle con- 
 sonant with the customary gravity and taciturnity of our sage 
 forefathers, was supposed, by certain learned pliilosophers, to 
 have been imbibed, together with divers other barbarous pro- 
 pensities, from their savage neighbours; who were pecuharly 
 noted for their long talks and council fires —who would never 
 undertake any affair of the least importance, without previous 
 debates and harangues among their chiefs and old men. But 
 
280 
 
 A HISTORY OF JSEW-70RK. 
 
 the real cause was, that the people, in electing their represent- 
 atives to the grand council, were particular in choosing them 
 for their talents at talking, without inquiring whether they 
 possessed the more rare, difficult, andofttimes important talent 
 of holding their tongues. The consequence was, that this de- 
 liberative body was composed of the most loquacious men in 
 the community. As they considered themselves placed there 
 to talk, every man concluded that his duty to his constituents, 
 and, what is more, his popularity with them, required that he 
 should harangue on every subject, whether he understood it or 
 not. There was an ancient mode of burying a chieftain, by 
 every soldier throwing his sliield full of earth on the corpse, 
 until a mighty mound was formed ; so, whenever a question 
 was brought forward in this assembly, every member pressing 
 forward to throw on his quantum of wisdom, the subject was 
 quickly buried under a huge mass of words. 
 
 We are told, that when disciples were admitted into the 
 school of Pythagoras, they were for two years enjoined silence, 
 and were neither permitted to ask questions nor make re- 
 marks. After they had thus acquired the inestimable art of 
 holding their tongues, they were gradually permitted to make 
 inquiries, and finally to communicate their own opinions. 
 
 What a pity is it, that, while superstitiously hoarding up 
 the rubbish and rags of antiquity, we should suffer these pre- 
 cious gems to lie unnoticed! What a beneficial effect would 
 this wise regulation of Pythagoras have, if introduced in leg- 
 islative bodies — and how wonderfully would it have tended to 
 expedite business in the grand council of the Manhattoes ! 
 
 Thus, however, did dame Wisdom, (Avhom the wags of 
 antiquity have humorously personified as a woman,) seem to 
 take mischievous pleasure in jilting the venerable counsellor 
 of New- Amsterdam. The old factions of Long Pipes and Short 
 Pipes, v/hich had been almost strangled by the herculean grasp 
 of Peter Stuyvesant, now sprung up with tenfold violence. 
 Not that the original cause of difference still existed, — but, it has 
 ever been the fate of party names and party rancour to remain, 
 long after the principles that gave rise to them have been for- 
 gotten. To complete the pubhc confusion and bewilderment, 
 the fatal word Economy, Avhich one would have thought was 
 dead and buried with William the Testy, was once more set 
 afloat, like the apple of discord, in the grand council of Nieuw- 
 Nederlandts— according to which sound principle of pohcy, it 
 was deemed more expedient to throw a^vay twenty thousand 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 281 
 
 guilders upon an inefl&cacious plan of defence, than thirty 
 thousand on a good and substantial one— the province thus 
 mailing a clear saving of ten thousand guilders. 
 
 But when the^ came to discuss the mode of defence, then be- 
 gan a war of words that baffles aU description. The members 
 being, as I observed, enlisted in opposite parties, were enabled 
 to proceed with amazing system and regularity in the discus- 
 sion of the questions before them. Whatever was proposed 
 by a Long Pipe, was opposed by the whole tribe of Short 
 Pipes, who, like true politicians, considered it their first duty 
 to effect the downfall of the Long Pipes— their second, to ele- 
 vate themselves — and their third, to consult the welfare of the 
 country. This at least was the creed of the most upright 
 among the party ; for as to the great mass, they left the third 
 consideration out of the question altogether. 
 
 In this great collision of hard heads, it is astonishing the 
 number of projects for defence that were struck out, not one 
 of which had ever been heard of before, nor has been heard of 
 since, unless it be in very modern days— projects that threw 
 the windmill system of the ingenious Kieft completely in the 
 background. StiU, however, nothing could be decided on ; for 
 so soon as a formidable host of air castles were reared by one 
 party, they were demolished by the other. The simple popu- 
 lace stood gazing in anxious expectation of the mighty egg 
 that was to be hatched with all this cackling ; but they gazed in 
 vain, for it appeared that the grand council was determined to 
 protect the province as did the noble and gigantic Pantagruel 
 his army — by covering it with his tongue. 
 
 Indeed, there was a portion of the members, consisting of 
 fat, self-important old burghers, who smoked their pipes and 
 said nothing, excepting to negative every plan of defence that 
 was offered. These were of that class of wealthy old citizens, 
 who, having amassed a fortune, button up their pockets, shut 
 their mouths, look rich, and are good for nothing all the rest 
 of their lives. Like some plilegmatic oyster, which, having 
 swallowed a pearl, closes its shell, settles down in the mud, 
 and parts with its life sooner than its treasure. Every plan 
 of defence seemed to these worthy old gentlemen pregnant 
 with ruin. An armed force was a legion of locusts, preying 
 upon the pubhc property — to fit out a naval armament, was to 
 throw their money into the sea — to build fortifications was to 
 bury it in the dirt. In short, they settled it as a sovereign 
 maxim, so long as their pockets were full, no matter how 
 
282 
 
 A mSTORT OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 much they were drubbed — a kick left no scar —a brok&u Jiead 
 cured itseK— but an empty purse was of all maladies the 
 slowest to heal, and one in which natm^e did nothing for the 
 patient. 
 
 Thus did this venerable assembly of sages lavish away that 
 time which the ui-gency of affairs rendered invaluable, in 
 empty brawls and long-winded speeches, without ever agree- 
 ing, except on the point with which they started, namely, 
 that there was no time to be lost, and delay was ruinous. At 
 length St. Nicholas, taking compassion on their distracted 
 situation, and anxious to preserve them from anarchy, so 
 ordered, that in the midst of one of their most noisy debates 
 on the subject of fortification and defence, when they had 
 nearly fallen to loggerheads in consequence of not being able 
 to convince each other, the question was happily settled by a 
 messenger, who bounced into the chamber and informed them 
 that the hostile fleet had arrived, and was actually advancing 
 up the bay ! 
 
 Thus was all farther necessity of either fortifying or disput- 
 ing completely obviated, and thus was the grand council saved 
 a world of words, and the province a world of expense— a 
 most absolute and glorious triumph of economy ! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN WHICH THE TROUBLES OF NEW-AMSTERDAM APPEAR TO 
 THICKEN— SHOWING THE BRAVERY, IN TIME OF PERIL, OF A 
 PEOPLE WHO DEFEND THEMSELVES BY RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 Like as an assemblage of politic cats, engaged in clamorous 
 gibberings, and caterwaulings, eyeing one another with hide- 
 ous grimaces, spitting in each other's faces, and on the point of 
 breaking forth into a general clapper-clawing, are suddenly 
 put to scampering rout and confusion by the startling appear- 
 ance of a house-dog— so was the no less vociferous council of 
 New- Amsterdam amazed, astounded, and totally dispersed by 
 the sudden arrival of the enemy. Every member made the 
 best of his way home, waddhng along as fast as his short legs 
 could fag under their heavy burden, and wheezing as he went 
 with corpulency and terror. When he arrived at his castle, 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-TOEK 
 
 283 
 
 he baxricadoed the street door, and buried himself in the cider 
 cellar, without daring to peep out, lest he should have his 
 head carried off by a cannon-ball. 
 
 The sovereign people all crowded into the market-place, 
 herding together with the instinct of sheep, who seek for 
 safety in each other's company, when the shepherd and his 
 dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round the -fold. Far 
 from finding relief, however, they only increased each other's 
 terrors. Each man looked ruefully in his neighbour's face, in 
 search of encouragement, but only found in its woe-begone 
 hneaments a confirmation of his own dismay. Not a word 
 now was to be heard of conquering Great Britain, not a whis- 
 per about the sovereign virtues of economy— while the old 
 women heightened the general gloom by clamorously bewail- 
 ing their fate, and incessantly calling for protection on Saint 
 Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. 
 
 Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the Uon-hearted 
 Peter !— and how did they long for the comforting presence of 
 Antony Van Corlear! Indeed, a gloomy micertainty hung 
 over the fate of these adventurous heroes. Day after day had 
 elapsed since the alarming message from the governor, with- 
 out bringing any farther tidings of his safety. Many a fearful 
 conjecture was hazarded as to what had befallen him and his 
 loyal 'squire. Had they not been devoured ahve by the can- 
 nibals of Marblehead and Cape Cod? — were they not put to 
 the question by the great council of Amphyctions?— were they 
 not smothered in onions by the terrible men of Piquag? — In 
 the midst of this consternation and perplexity, when horror, 
 hke a mighty nightmare, sat brooding upon the httle fat, ple- 
 thoric city of New- Amsterdam, the ears of the multitude were 
 suddenly startled by a strange and distant sound — it ap- 
 proached — it grew louder and louder — and now it resounded at 
 the city gate. The pubhc could not be mistaken in the weU- 
 known sound — a shout of joy burst from their hps, as the gal- 
 lant Peter, covered with dust, and followed by his faithful 
 trumpeter, came galloping into the market-place. 
 
 The first transports of the populace having subsided, they 
 gathered round the honest Antony, as he dismounted from his 
 horse, overwhelming him with greetings and congratulations. 
 In breathless accents he related to them the marvellous adven- 
 tures through which the old governor and himself had gone, in 
 making their escape from the clutches of the terrifble Amphyc- 
 tions. But though the Stuyvesant manuscript, with its cus- 
 
284 
 
 A BISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 tomary minuteness, where anything touching the great Petei 
 is concerned, is very particular as to the incidents of this mas- 
 terly retreat, yet the particular state of the pubhc affairs will 
 not allow me to indulge in a full recital thereof. Let it suffice 
 to say that while Peter Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in 
 his mind how he could make good his escape with honour and 
 dignity, certain of the ships sent out for the conquest of the 
 Manhattoes touched at the eastern ports, to obtain needful sup- 
 plies, and to call oji the grand council of the league for its pro- 
 mised co-operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant Peter, 
 perceiving that a moment's delay were fatal, made a secret 
 and precipitate decampment, though much did it grieve his 
 lofty soul to be obliged to turn his back even upon a nation of 
 foes. Many hair-breadth 'scapes and divers perilous mishaps 
 did they sustain, as they scoured, without sound of trumpet, 
 through the fair regions of the east. Already was the country 
 in an uproar with hostile preparation, and they were obhged 
 to take a large circuit in their flight, lurking along through the 
 woody mountains of the Devil's Back-bone ; from whence the 
 valiant Peter saUied forth one day, like a lion, and put to rout 
 a whole legion of squatters, consisting of three generations of a 
 prolific family, who were already on their way to take posses- 
 sion of some corner of the New-Netherlands. Nay, the faithful 
 Antony had great difficulty at sundry times to prevent him, 
 in the excess of his wrath, from descending down from the 
 mountains, and falhng, sword in hand, upon certain of the 
 border towns, who were marshalling forth their draggletailed 
 militia. 
 
 The first movements of the governor, on reaching his dwell- 
 ing, was to mount the roof, from whence he contemplated, 
 with rueful aspect, the hostile squadron. This had already 
 come to anchor in the bay, and consisted of two stout frigates, 
 having on board, as John Josselyn, Gent., informs us, ''three 
 hundred vahant red-coats." Having taken this survey, he 
 sat himself down, and wrote an epistle to the commander, 
 demanding the reason of his anchoring in the harbour without 
 obtaining previous permission so to do. This letter was 
 couched in the most dignified and courteous terms, though I 
 have it from undoubted authority, that his teeth were clinched, 
 and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his visage all the while 
 he wrote. Having despatched his letter, the grim Peter 
 stumped to and fro about the town, with a most war-betoken- 
 ing countenance, his hands thrust into his breeches pockets, 
 
A BISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 285 
 
 and whistling a Low Dutch psahn tune, which bore no small 
 resemblance to the music of a north-east wind, when a storm 
 is brewing. The very dogs, as they eyed him, skulked away 
 in dismay— while all the old and ugly women of New- Amster- 
 dam ran howling at his heels, imploring him to save them from 
 murder, robbery, and pitiless ravishment ! 
 
 The reply of Col. Nichols, who commanded the invaders, was 
 couched in terms of equal courtesy with the letter of the gov- 
 ernor — declaring the right and title of his British Majesty to 
 the province, where he affirmed the Dutch to be mere interlop- 
 ers; and demanding that the town, forts, etc., should be forth- 
 with rendered into his majesty's obedience and protection — 
 promising at the same tune, life, liberty, estate, and free trade, 
 to every Dutch denizen who should readily submit to liis 
 majesty's government. 
 
 Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with some 
 such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty farmer, 
 who has long been fattening upon his neighbour's soil, reads 
 the loving letter of John Stiles, that warns him of an action of 
 ejectment. The old governor, however, was not to be taken 
 by surprise, but thrusting the summons into his breeches pocket, 
 he stalked three times across the room, took a pinch of snuff 
 with great vehemence, and then loftily waving his hand, 
 promised to send an answer the next morning. In the mean- 
 time, he called a general council of war of his privy counsellors 
 and burgomasters, not for the purpose of asking theii* advice, 
 for that, as has already been shown, he valued not a rush ; but 
 to make known unto them his sovereign determination, and 
 require their prompt adherence. 
 
 Before, however, he convened his council, he resolved upon 
 three important points : first, never to give up the city without 
 a little hard fighting, for he deemed it highly derogatory to the 
 dignity of so renowned a city to suffer itself to be captured 
 and stripped, without receiving a few kicks into the bargam 
 — secondly, that the majority of his grand council was com- 
 posed of arrant poltroons, utterly destitute of true bottom— 
 and, thirdly, that he would not therefore suffer them to see the 
 summons of Col. Nichols lest the easy terms it held out might 
 induce them to clamour for a surrender. 
 
 His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous sight to 
 behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had demolished the 
 whole British empire in their harangues, peeping ruefully out 
 of their hiding-places, and then crawling cautiously forth; 
 
286 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW YORR. 
 
 dodging through narrow lanes and alleys; starting at every 
 little dog that barked, as though it had been a discharge of 
 artillery — mistaking lamp-posts for British grenadiers, and, in 
 the excess of their panic, metamorphosing pumps into for- 
 midable soldiers, levelling blunderbusses at their bosoms! 
 Having, however, in despite of numerous perils and difficulties 
 of the kind, arrived safe, without the loss of a single man, at 
 the hall of assembly, they took their seats, and awaited in fear- 
 ful silence the arrival of the governor. In a few moments the 
 wooden leg of the intrepid Peter was heard in regular and 
 stout-hearted thumps upon the staircase. He entered the 
 chamber arrayed in a full suit of regimentals, and carrying his 
 trusty toledo, not girded on his thigh, but tucked under his 
 arm. As the governor never equipped himself in this porten- 
 tous manner, unless something of a martial nature were work- 
 ing within his fearless pericranium, his council regarded him 
 ruefully, as if they saw fire and sword in his iron countenance, 
 and forgot to light their pipes in breathless suspense. 
 
 The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valorous— indeed, 
 these two rare qualities seemed to go hand in hand in his com- 
 position; and, unlike most great statesmen, whose victories 
 are only confined to the bloodless field of argument, he was 
 always ready to enforce his hardy words by no less hardy 
 deeds. His speeches were generally marked by a simplicity 
 approaching to bluntness, and by a truly categorical decision. 
 Addressing the grand council, he touched briefly upon the 
 perils and hardships he had sustained in escaping from his 
 crafty foes. He next reproached the council for wasting, in 
 idle debate and party feuds, that time which should have been 
 devoted to their country. He was particularly indignant at 
 those brawlers, who, conscious of individual security, had dis- 
 graced the councils of the province by impotent hectorings and 
 scurrilous invectives, against a noble and powerful enemy — 
 those cowardly curs, who were incessant in their barkings and 
 yelpings at the lion, while distant or asleep, but the moment he 
 approached, were the first to skulk away. He now called on 
 those who had been so valiant in their threats against Great 
 Britain, to stand forth, and support their vauntings by their 
 actions— for it was deeds, not words, that bespoke the spirit of 
 a nation. He proceeded to recall the golden days of former 
 prosperity, which were only to be regained by manfully with- 
 standing their enemies; for the peace, he observed, which is 
 effected by force of arms, is always more sure and durable 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 287 
 
 tlian that which is patched up by temporary accommodations. 
 
 He endeavoured, moreover, to arouse their martial fire, by re- 
 minding them of the time when, before the frowning walls of 
 Fort Christina, he had led them on to victory. He strove like- 
 wise to awaken their confidence, by assuring them- of the pro- 
 tection of St. Nicholas, who had hitherto maintained them in 
 safety, amid all the savages of the wilderness, the witches and 
 squatters of the east, and the giants of Merry -land. Finally, 
 he informed them of the insolent suromons he had received to 
 surrender, but concluded by swearing to defend the province 
 as long as Heaven was on his side, and he had a wooden leg to 
 stand upon— which noble sentence he emphasized by a tremen- 
 dous thwack with the broadside of his sword upon the table, 
 that totally electrified his auditors. 
 
 The privy counsellors, who had long been accustomed to the 
 governor's way, and in fa(;t had been brought into as perfect 
 discipline as were ever the soldiers of the great Frederick, saw 
 that there was no use in saying a word— so lighted their pipes 
 and smoked away in silence like fat and discreet counsellors. 
 But the burgomasters, being less under the governor's control, 
 considering themselves as representatives of the sovereign 
 people, and being moreover inflamed with considerable import- 
 ance and self-sufficiency, which they had acquired at those 
 notable schools of wisdom and morality, the popular meetings, 
 were not so easily satisfied. Mustering up fresh spirit, when 
 they found there was some chance of escaping from their 
 present jeopardy without the disagreeable alternative of fight- 
 ing, they requested a copy of the summons to surrender, 
 that they might show it to a general meeting of the people. 
 
 So insolent and mutinous a request would have been enough 
 to have roused the gorge of the tranquil Van T wilier himse]f — 
 what, then, must have been its effect upon the great Stuy- 
 vesant, who was not only a Dutchman, a governor, and a 
 valiant wooden-legged soldier to boot, but withal a man of the 
 most stomachful and gunpowder disposition? He burst fortli 
 into a blaze of noble indignation, — swore not a mother's son of 
 them should see a syllable of it— that they deserved, every one 
 of them, to be hanged, drawn and quartered, for traitorously 
 daring to question the infalhbility of government— that as to 
 their advice or concurrence, he did not care a whiff of tobacco 
 for either— that he had long been harassed and thwarted by 
 their cowardly counsels; but that they might thencefoith go 
 home, and go to bed like old women ; for he was determined to 
 
288 
 
 A BISTORT OF NEW-YORK 
 
 defend the colony himself, without the assistance of them or 
 their adherents. So saying, he tucked his sword under his 
 arm, cocked his hat upon his head, and girding up his loins, 
 stumped indignantly out of the council chamber — every body 
 making room for him as he passed. 
 
 No sooner had he gone, than the busy burgomasters called 
 a public meeting in front of the Stadt-house,^ where they 
 appointed as chairman one Dofue Roerback, a mighty ginger- 
 bread-baker in the land and formerly of the cabinet of William 
 the Testy. He was looked up to with great reverence by the 
 populace, who considered him a man of dark knowledge, seeing 
 he was the first that imprinted new-year cakes with the mys- 
 terious hieroglyphics of the Cock and Breeches, and such like 
 magical devices. 
 
 This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill-will 
 against the valiant Stuy vesant, in consequence of having been 
 ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at the time of his 
 taking the reins of government — addressed the greasy multi- 
 tude in what is called a patriotic speech, in which he informed 
 them of the courteous summons to surrender— of the gover- 
 nor's refusal to comply therewith— of his denying the public 
 a sight of the summons, which, he had no doubt, contained 
 conditions highly to the honour and a.dvanta.ge of the pro- 
 vince. 
 
 He then proceeded to speak of his excellency in high-sound- 
 ing terms, suitable to the dignity and grandeur of his station, 
 comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and those other great men of 
 yore, who are generally quoted by popular orators on similar 
 occasions ; assuring the people that the history of the world 
 did not contain a despotic outrage to equal the present for 
 atrocity, cruelty, tyranny, and bloodthirstiness — that it would 
 be recorded in letters of fire, on the blood-stained tablet of 
 history ! that ages would roll back v>dth sudden horror when 
 they came to view it ! that the womb of time — (by the way, 
 your orators and writers take strange liberties with the womb 
 jjof time, though some would fain have us believe that time is 
 an old gentleman) — that the womb of time, pregnant as it was 
 with direful horrors, would never produce a parallel enormity ! 
 — With a variety of other 1-weart-rending, soul-stirring tropes 
 and figures, which I cannot enumerate— neither, indeed, need 
 I, for they were exactly the same that are used in all popular 
 harangues and patriotic orations at the present day, and may 
 be classed in rhetoric under the general title of Rigmarole. 
 
A niSTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 2S9 
 
 The speech of this inspired burgomaster being finished, the 
 meeting fell into a kind of popular fermentation, which pro- 
 duced not only a string of right wise resolutions, but likewise 
 a most resolute memorial, addressed to the governor, remon- 
 strating at his conduct— which was no sooner handed to him, 
 than he handed it into the fire ; and thus deprived posterity of 
 an invaluable document, that might have served as a pre- 
 cedent to the enlightened cobblers and tailors of the present 
 day, in their sage intermeddlings with politics. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONTAINING A DOLEFUL DISASTER OF ANTONY THE TRUMPETER 
 —AND HOW PETER STUYVESANT, LIKE A SECOND CROMWELL, 
 SUDDENLY DISSOLVED A RIBIP PARLIAMENT. 
 
 Now did the high-minded Pieter de Groodt shower down a 
 pannier-load of benedictions upon his burgomasters, for a set 
 of self-willed, obstinate, headstrong varlets, who would neither 
 be convinced nor persuaded; and determined thenceforth to 
 have nothing more to do with them, but to consult merely the 
 opinion of his privy counsellors, which he knew from expe- 
 rience to be the best in the world— inasmuch as it never 
 differed from his own. Nor did he omit, now that his hand 
 was in, to bestovf some thousand left-handed compHments 
 upon the sovereign people ; whom he railed at for a herd of 
 poltroons, who had no relish for the glorious hardships and 
 illustrious misadventures of battle— but would rather stay at 
 home, and eat and sleep in ignoble ease, than gain immortahty 
 and a broken head by valiantly fighting in a ditch. 
 
 Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his beloved city, 
 in despite even of itself, he called unto him his trusty Van 
 Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all times of emer- 
 gency. Him did he adjure to take his war-denouncing 
 trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up the country, 
 night and day. Sounding the alarm along the pastoral bor- 
 ders of the Bronx — starting the wild solitudes of Croton— 
 ai'ousing the mgged yeomanry of Weehawk and Hoboeken— 
 the mighty men of battle of Tappan Bay * — and the brave boys 
 
 * A corruption of Top-paun ; so called from a tribe of Indians which boasted a 
 hundred and fifty fighting men. See OjfiJby's History. 
 
290 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TOEK 
 
 of Tarry Town and Sleepy Hollow — ^together with all the othei 
 warriors of the country round about ; charging them one and 
 all to sling their powder-horns, shoulder their fowling-pieces, 
 and march merrily down to the Manhattoes. 
 
 Now there was nothing in all the world, the divine sex ex- 
 cepted, that Antony Van Corlear loved better than errands ol 
 this kind. So, just stopping to take a lusty dinner, and brac- 
 ing to his side his junk bottle, well charged with heart-inspir- 
 ing Hollands, he issued jolhly from the city gate, that looked 
 out upon what is at present called Broadway; sounding as 
 usual a farewell strain, that rung in sprightly echoes through 
 the winding streets of New- Amsterdam. — Alas! never more 
 were they to be gladdened by the melody of their favourite 
 trumpeter ! 
 
 It was a dark and stormy night, when the good Antony ar- 
 rived at the famous creek (sagely denominated Haerlem river) 
 which separates the island of Manna-hata from the main land. 
 The wind was high, the elements were in an uproar, and no 
 Charon could be found to ferry the adventurous sounder of 
 brass across the water. For a short time he vapoured like an 
 impatient ghost upon the brink, and then, bethinking himself 
 of the urgency of his errand, took a hearty embrace of his 
 stone bottle, swore most valorously that he would swim across, 
 en spijt den Duyvel, (in spite of the devil!) a,nd daringly 
 plunged into the stream. — Luckless Antony! scarce had he 
 buffeted half-way over, when he was observed to struggle vio- 
 lently, as if battling with the spirit of the waters — instinctively 
 he put his trumpet to his mouth, and giving a vehement blast 
 sunk for ever to the bottom ! 
 
 The potent clangour of his trumpet, like the ivory horn of 
 the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring on the glorious 
 field of Eoncesvalles, rung far and wide through the country, 
 alarming the neighbours roimd, who hurried in amazement to 
 the spot. Here an old Dutch burgher, famed for his veracity, 
 and who had been a witness of the fact, related to them the 
 melancholy affair; with the fearful addition (to which I am 
 slow of giving belief) that he saw the duyvel, in the shape of a 
 huge moss-bonker, seize the sturdy Antony by the leg, and 
 drag him beneath the waves. Certain it is, the place, with the 
 adjoining promontory, which projects into the Hudson, haa 
 been called Spijt den duyvel, or Spiking Devil, ever since ; — the 
 restless ghost of the unfortunate Antony still haunts the sur- 
 rounding soHtudes, and bis trumpet has often been heard by 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 291 
 
 the neighbours, of a stormy night, mingHng with the howling 
 of the blast. Nobody ever attempts to swim over the creek, 
 after dark ; on the contrary, a bridge has been built, to guard 
 against such melancholy accidents in future — and as to moss- 
 bonkers, they are held in such abhorrence, that no true Dutch- 
 man will admit them to his table, who loves good fish and hates 
 the devil. 
 
 Such was the end of Antony Van Corlear — a man deserving 
 of a better fate. He hved roundly and soundly, hke a true and 
 jolly bachelor, until the day of his death ; but though he was 
 never married, yet did he leave behind some two or three 
 dozen children, in different parts of the country— fine, chubby, 
 brawUng, flatulent httle urchins, from whom, if legends speak 
 true, (and they are not apt to lie,) did descend the innumerable 
 race of editors who people and defend this country, and who 
 are bountifully paid by the people for keeping up a constant 
 alarm — and making them miserable. Would that they in- 
 herited the worth, as they do the wind, of their renowned pro- 
 genitor ! 
 
 The tidings of this lamentable catastrophe imparted a severer 
 pang to the bosom of Peter Stuy vesant than did even the inva- 
 sion of his beloved Amsterdam. It came ruthlessly home to 
 those sweet affections that grow close around the heart, and 
 are nourished by its warmest current. As some lorn pilgi^im, 
 while the tempest whistles through his locks, and dreary night 
 is gathering around, sees stretched, cold and lifeless, his faith- 
 ful dog— the sole companion of his journeying, who had shared 
 his solitary meal, and so often hcked his hand in humble grati- 
 tude — so did the generous-hearted hero of the Manhattoes con- 
 template the untimely end of his faithful Antony. He had 
 been the humble attendant of his footsteps— he had cheered 
 him in many a heavy hour by his honest gayety, and had fol- 
 lowed him in loyalty and affection through many a scene of 
 direful peril and mishap ; he was gone for ever — and that, too. 
 at a moment when every mongrel cur seemed skulking from 
 his side. This — Peter Stuy vesant— this was the moment to try 
 thy fortitude ; and this was the moment when thou didst in- 
 deed shine forth— Peter the Headstrong ! 
 
 The glare of day had long dispelled the horrors of the last 
 stormy night : still all was dull and gloomy. The late jovial 
 Apollo hid his face behind lugubrious clouds, peeping out now 
 and then, for an instant, as if anxious, yet fearful, to see what 
 was going on in his favourite city. This was the eventful 
 
292 
 
 A UISrORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 morning when the great Peter was to give his reply to the 
 summons of the invaders. Already was he closeted with his 
 privy council, sitting in grim state, brooding over the fate of 
 his favourite trumpeter, and anon boiling with indignation as 
 the insolence of his recreant burgomas^/ers flashed upon his 
 mind. While in this state of irritation, a courier arrived in 
 all haste from Wintlirop, the subtle governor of Connecticut, 
 counselling him in the most affectionate and disinterested 
 manner to surrender the province, and magnifying the dan- 
 gers and calamities to which a refusal would subject him. 
 What a moment was this to mtrude officious advice upon 
 a man who never took advice in his whole life!— The fiery 
 old governor strode up and down the chamber, with a vehe- 
 mence that made the bosoms of his counsellors to quake with 
 awe— railing at his unlucky fate, that thus made him the con- 
 stant butt of factious subjects and jesuitical advisers. 
 
 Just at this ill-chosen juncture, the ofiicious burgomasters, 
 who were now completely on the watch, and had heard of the 
 arrival of mysterious despatches, came marching in a resolute 
 body into the room, with a legion of schepens and toad-eaters 
 at their heels, and abruptly demanded a perusal of the letter. 
 Thus to be broken in upon by what he esteemed a ' ' rascal rab- 
 ble," and that, too, at the very moment he was grinding under 
 an irritation from abroad, was too much for the spleen of the 
 choleric Peter. He tore the letter in a thousand pieces *— threw 
 it in the face of the nearest burgomaster— broke his pipe over 
 the head of the next— hurled his spitting-box at an unlucky 
 schepen, who was just making a masterly retreat out at the 
 door, and finally prorogued the whole meeting sine die, by 
 kicking them down-stairs with his wooden leg. 
 
 As soon as the burgomasters could recover from the con- 
 fusion into which their sudden exit had thrown them, and had 
 taken a little time to breathe, they protested against the con- 
 duct of the governor, which they did not hesitate to pronounce 
 tyrannical, unconstitutional, highly indecent, and somewhat 
 disrespectful. They then called a public meeting, where they 
 read the protest, and addressing the assembly in a set speech, 
 related at full length, and with appropriate colouring and ex- 
 aggeration, the despotic and vindictive deportment of the 
 governor; declaring that, for their own parts, they did not 
 value a straw the being kicked, cuffed, and mauled by the 
 
 * Smiili's History of New York. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORE. 
 
 293 
 
 timber toe of his excellency, but they felt for the dignity of the 
 sovereign people, thus rudely insulted by the outrage com- 
 mitted on the seat of honour of their representatives. The 
 latter part of the harangue had a violent effect upon the sensi- 
 bility of the people, as it came home at once to tliJifc delicacy 
 of feeling and jealous pride of character, vested in all true 
 mobs; who, though they may bear injuries without a murmur, 
 yet are marvellously jealous of their sovereign dignity— and 
 there is no knowing to what act of resentment they might have 
 been provoked against the redoubtable Peter, had not the 
 greasy rogues been somewhat more afraid of their sturdy old 
 governor, than they were of St. Nicholas, the English— or the 
 I) 1 himself. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HOW PETER STUYVESANT DEFENDED THE CITY OP NEW AMSTER- 
 DAM, FOR SEVERAL DAYS, BY DINT OF THE STRENGTH OF HIS 
 HEAD. 
 
 There is something exceedingly sublime and melancholy in 
 the spectacle which the present crisis of our history presents. 
 An illustrious and venerable little city — the metropohs of an 
 immense extent of uninhabited country — garrisoned by a 
 doughty host of orators, chairmen, committee-men, burgo- 
 masters, schepens, and old women — ^governed by a determined 
 and strong-headed warrior, and fortified by mud batteries, 
 palisadoes, and resolutions— blockaded by sea, beleaguered by 
 land, and threatened with direful desolation from without; 
 while its very vitals are torn with internal faction and com- 
 motion ! Never did historic pen record a page of more compli- 
 cated distress, unless it be the strife that distracted the 
 Israehtes during the siege of Jerusalem — where discordant 
 parties were cutting each other's throats, at the moment when 
 the victorious legions of Titus had toppled down their bul- 
 warks, and were carrying fire and sword into the very sanctum 
 sanctorum of the temple. 
 
 Governor Stuyvesant, having triumphantly, as has been 
 recorded, put his grand council to the rout, and thus delivered 
 himself from a multitude of impertinent advisers, despatched 
 a categorical reply to the commanders of the invading squad- 
 
294 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 ron; wherein he asserted the right and title of their High 
 Mightinesses, the Lord States General to the province of New- 
 Netherlands, and, trusting in the righteousness of his cause, 
 set the whole British nation at defiance 1 My anxiety to ex- 
 tricate my readers and mj^self from these disastrous scenes, 
 prevents me from giving the whole of this gallant letter, which 
 concluded in these manly and affectionate terms : 
 
 " As touching the threats in your conclusion, we have noth^ 
 ing to answer, only that we fear nothing but what God (who is 
 as just as merciful) shall lay upon us ; all things being in His 
 gracious disposal, and we may as well be preserved by him 
 ■svith small forces, as by a great army ; which makes us to wish 
 you all happiness and prosperity, and recommend you to his 
 protection.— My lords, your thrice hmnble and affectionate 
 servant and friend, P. Stuyvesant." 
 
 Thus having resolutely thrown his gauntlet, the brave Peter 
 stuck a pair of horse-pistols in his belt, girded an immense 
 powder-horn on his side — thrust a sound leg into a Hessian 
 boot, and clapping his fierce little war hat on the top of his 
 head — paraded up and down in front of his house, determined 
 to defend his beloved city to the last. 
 
 While all these woiul struggles and dissensions were prevail- 
 ing in the unhappy city of New-Amsterdam, and while its 
 worthy, but ill-starred governor was framing the above-quoted 
 letter, the English commanders did not remain idle. They 
 had agents secretly employed to foment the fears and clamours 
 of the populace; and moreover circulated far and wide, 
 through the adjacent country, a proclamation, repeacing the 
 terms they had already held out in their summons to sur- 
 render, and beguihng the simple Nederlandei*s with the most 
 crafty and conciliating professions. They promised that every 
 man who voluntarily submitted to the authority of his British 
 Majesty, should retain peaceable possession of his house, his 
 vrouw, and his cabbage-garden. That he should be suffered to 
 smoke liis pipe, speak Dutch, wear as many breeches as he 
 pleased, and import bricks, tiles, and stone jugs from Holland, 
 instead of manufacturing them on the spot. That he should 
 on no account be compelled to learn the EngHsh language, or 
 keep accounts in any other way than by casting them upon his 
 fingers, and chalking them down upon the crown of his hat; 
 as is still observed among the Dutch yeomanry at the present 
 day. That every man should be allowed quietly to inherit his 
 
A IU8T0RT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 295 
 
 father's hat, coat, shoe-buckles, pipe, and every other personal 
 appendage, and that no man should be obliged to conform to 
 any improvements, inventions, or any other modern innova- 
 tions; but, on the contrary, should be permitted to build his 
 house, follow his trade, manage his farm, rear his hogs, and 
 educate his children, precisely as his ancestors did before him 
 since time immemorial. Finally, that he should have all the 
 benefits of free trade, and should not be required to acknow- 
 ledge any other saint in the calendar than St. Nicholas, who 
 should thenceforward, as before, be considered the tutelar saint 
 of the city. 
 
 These terms, as may be supposed, appeared very satisfactory 
 to the people, who had a great disposition to enjoy their prop- 
 erty unmolested, and a most singular aversion to engage in a 
 contest where they could gain little more than honour and 
 broken heads — the first of which they held in philosophic 
 indifference, the latter in utter detestation. By these insidious 
 means, therefore, did the Enghsh succeed in alienating the 
 confidence and affections of the populace from their gallant 
 old governor, whom they considered as obstinately bent upon 
 running them into hideous misadventures ; and did not hesi- 
 tate to speak their minds freely, and abuse him most heartily — * 
 behind his back. 
 
 Like as a mighty grampus, who, though assailed and 
 buffeted by roaring waves and brawling surges, still keeps on 
 an undeviating course ; and though overwhelmed by boisterous 
 billows, still emerges from the troubled deep, spouting and 
 blowing with tenfold violence — so did the inflexible Peter 
 pursue, unwavering, his determined career, and rise, con- 
 temptuous, above the clamours of the rabble. 
 
 But when the British warriors found, by the tenor of his 
 reply, that he set their power at defiance, they forthwith 
 despatched recruiting officers to Jamaica, and Jericho, and 
 Nineveh, and Quag, and Patchog, and all those towns on Long 
 Island which had been subdued of yore by the immortal 
 Stoffel Brinkerhoff , stiriTtig up the valiant progeny of Preseiwed 
 Fish, and Determined Cock, and those other illustrious squat- 
 ters, to assail the city of New- Amsterdam by land. In the 
 meanwhile, the hostile ships made awful preparation to com- 
 mence an assault by Avater. 
 
 The streets of New- Amsterdam now presented a scene of 
 wild dismay and consternation. In vain did the gallant Stuy- 
 vesant order the citizens to arm, and assemble in the public 
 
206 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 
 
 square or market-place. The whole party of Short Pipes in the 
 course of a single night had changed into arrant old women — 
 a metamorphosis only to be paralleled by the prodigies re- 
 corded by Livy as having happened at Eome on the approach 
 of Hannibal, when statues sweated in pure affright, goats 
 were converted into sheep, and cocks turning into hens ran 
 cackling about the streets. 
 
 The harassed Peter, thus menaced from without, and tor- 
 mented from within — baited by the burgomasters, and hooted 
 at by the rabble, chafed and growled and raged hke a furious 
 bear, tied to a stake and worried by a legion of scoundrel curs. 
 Finding, however, that aU further attempts to defend the city 
 were vain, and hearing that an irruption of borderers and 
 mosstroopers was ready to deluge him from the east, he was 
 at length compelled, in spite of his proud heart, which swelled 
 in his throat until it had nearly choked him, to consent to a 
 treaty of surrender. 
 
 Words cannot express the transports of the people, on re- 
 ceiving this agreeable intelligence; had they obtained a con- 
 quest over their enemies, they could not have indulged greater 
 dehght. The streets resounded T\^th their congratulations — 
 ■• they extolled their governor, as the father and deliverer of his 
 country — they crowded to his house to testify their gratitude, 
 and were ten times more noisy in their plaudits, than when he 
 returned, with victory perched upon his beaver, from the 
 glorious capture of Fort Christina. But the indignant Peter 
 shut his doors and windows, and took refuge in the innermost 
 recesses of Ms mansion, that he might not hear the ignoble re- 
 joicings of the rabble. 
 
 In consequence of this consent of the governor, a parley was 
 demanded of the besieging forces to treat of the terms of 
 surrender. Accordingly, a deputation of six commissionei-s 
 was appointed on both sides ; and on the 27th August, 1664, a 
 capitiilation highly favourable to the province, and honour- 
 able to Peter Stuyvesant, was agreed to by the enemy, who 
 had conceived a high opinion of the valour of the Manhattoes, 
 and the magnanimity and unbounded discretion of their gov- 
 ernor. 
 
 One thing alone remained, which was, that the articles of 
 surrender should be ratified, and signed by the governor. 
 When the commissioners respectfully waited upon him for 
 this purpose, they were received by the hardy old waiTior 
 with the most grim and bitter courtesy. His warlike accoutre^ 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 297 
 
 ments were laid aside — an old India night-gown was wrapped 
 about his rugged limbs, a red night-cap overshadowed his 
 frowning brow, and an iron gray bread, of three days' growth, 
 gave additional giimness to his visage. Thrice did he seize a 
 little worn-out stump of a pen, and essay to sign the loath- 
 some paper — thrice did he clinch his teeth, and make a most 
 horrible countenance, as though a pestiferous dose of rhubarb, 
 senna, and ipecacuanha, had been offered to his lips ; at length, 
 dasliing it fi'om him, he seized his brass-hilted sword, and 
 jerking it from the scabbard, swore by St. Nicholas, he'd 
 sooner die than yield to any power under heaven. 
 
 In vain was every attempt to shake this sturdy resolution — 
 menaces, remonstrances, revilings, were exhausted to no pur- 
 pose — for two whole days was the house of the valiant Peter 
 besieged by the clamorous rabble, and for two whole days did 
 he betake himself to his arms, and persist in a magnanimous 
 refusal to ratify the capitulation. 
 
 At length the populace, finding that boisterous measures did 
 but incense more determined opposition, bethought themselves 
 of an humble expedient, by which, happily, the governor's ire 
 might be soothed, and his resolution undermined. And now a 
 solemn and mournful procession, headed by the burgomasters 
 and schepens, and followed by the populace, moves slowly to 
 the governor's dwelhng, bearing the capitulation. Here they 
 found the stout old hero, drawn up like a giant in his castle, 
 the doors strongly barricadoed, and himself in full regimentals, 
 with his cocked hat on his head, firmly posted with a blunder- 
 buss at the garret- window. 
 
 There was something in this formidable position that struck 
 even the ignoble vulgar with awe and admii-ation. The braw- 
 ling multitude could not but reflect with self-abasement upon 
 their own pusillanimous conduct, when they beheld their 
 hardy but deserted old governor, thus faithful to his post, like 
 a forlorn hope, and fully prepared to defend his ungrateful 
 city to the last. These compunctions, however, were soon over- 
 whelmed by the recurring tide of public apprehension. The 
 populace arranged themselves before the house, taking off 
 their hats with most respectful humihty. — Burgomaster Roor- 
 back, who was o.^ that popular class of orators described by 
 Sallust as being "talkative rather than eloquent," stepped 
 forth and addressed the governor in a speech of three houi-s' 
 length; detailing in the most pathetic terms the calamitous 
 situation of the province, and urging liim in a constant repe- 
 
208 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW YORK. 
 
 tition of the same arguments and words to sign the capitula- 
 tion. 
 
 The mighty Peter eyed him from his httle garret-window in 
 grim silence — nov;- and then his eye would glance over the sur- 
 rounding rabble, and an indignant grin, like that of an angry 
 mastiff, would mark his iron visage. But though he was a man 
 of most uhdaunted mettle— though he had a heart as big as 
 an ox, and a head that would have set adamant to scorn — yet 
 after all he was a mere mortal : — wearied out by these repeated 
 oppositions and this eternal haranguing, and perceiving that 
 unless he comphed, the inhabitants would follow their own in- 
 chnations, or rather their fears, ^vithout waiting for his con- 
 sent, he testily ordered thom to hand up the paper. It was 
 accordingly hoisted to him on the end of a pole, and having 
 scrawled his name at the bottom of it, he anathematized 
 them all for a set of cowardly, mutinous, degenerate poltroons 
 — threw the capitulation at their heads, slammed down the 
 window, and was heard stimiping down stairs with the most 
 vehement indignation. The rabble incontinently took to their 
 heels ; even the burgomasters were not slow in evacuating the 
 premises, fearing lest the sturdy Peter might issue from his 
 den, and greet them with some unwelcome testimonial of his 
 displeasure. 
 
 Within three hours after the surrender, a legion of British 
 beef -fed warriors poured into New- Amsterdam, taking posses- 
 sion of the fort and batteries. And now might be heard from 
 all quarters the sound of hammers, made by the old Dutch 
 burghers, who were busily employed in nailing up their dooi-s 
 and windows, to protect their vrouws from these fierce bar- 
 barians, whom ih.Qj contemplated in silent sullenness from the 
 garret-windows, as they paraded through the streets. 
 
 Thus did Col. Richard Nichols, the commander of the British 
 forces, enter into quiet possession of the conquered realm, as 
 locum tenens for the Duke of York. The victory was at- 
 tended with no other outrage than that of changing the name 
 of the province and its metropolis, which thenceforth were 
 denominated New-York, and so have continued to be called 
 unto the present day. The inhabitants, according to treaty, 
 were allowed to maintain quiet possession of their property; 
 but so inveterately did they retain their abhorrence of the 
 British nation, that in a private meeting of the leading citi- 
 zens, it was unanimously determined never to ask any of their 
 conqueroi'^ to dinner. 
 
A HISTORY OF JS'EW-TORK. 
 
 299 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CONTAINING THE DIGNIFIED RETIREMENT AND MORTAL SURRENDER 
 OF PETER THE HEADSTRONG. 
 
 Thus, then, have I conchided this great historical enterprise ; 
 but before I lay aside my weary pen, there yet remains to be 
 performed one pious duty. If, among the variety of readers 
 that may peruse tliis book, there should haply be found any of 
 those souls of true nobility, which glow with celestial fire at 
 the history of the generous and the brave, they will doubtless 
 be anxious to know the fate of the gallant Peter Stuyvesant. 
 To gratify one such sterling heart of gold, I would go more 
 lengths than to instruct the cold-blooded curiosity of a whole 
 fraternity of philosophers. 
 
 No sooner had that high-mettled cavalier signed the articles 
 of capitulation, than, determined not to witness the humilia- 
 tion of his favourite city, he turned his back on its walls, and 
 made a growhng retreat to his Boiiicery, or coimtry-seat, which 
 was situated about two miles off; where he passed the re- 
 mainder of his days in patriarchal retirement. There he 
 enjoyed that tranquillity of mind which he had never kno^vn 
 amid the distracting cares of government; and tasted the 
 sweets of absolute and uncontrolled authority, which his fac- 
 tious subjects had so often dashed with the bitterness of 
 opposition. 
 
 No persuasions could ever induce him to revisit the city — on 
 the contrary, he would always have his great arm-chair placed 
 with its back to the windows which looked in that direction ; 
 until a thick grove of trees, planted by his own hand, grew 
 up and formed a screen that effectually excluded it from the 
 prospect. He railed continually at the degenerate innovations 
 and improvements introduced by the conquerors— forbade a 
 word of their detested language to be spoken in his family— a 
 prohibition readily obeyed, since none of the household could 
 speak anything but Dutch— and even ordered a fine avenue to 
 be cut down in front of his house, because it consisted of Eng- 
 hsh cherry-trees. 
 
 The same incessant vigilance that blazed forth when he had 
 a vast province under his care now showed itself with equal 
 vigour, thouj2:h in narrower limits. He patrolled with unceas- 
 
300 
 
 A mSTORT OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 ing watchfulness around the houndaries of his Httle territory; 
 repelled every encroachment with intrepid promptness; pun- 
 ished every vagrant depredation upon his orchard or his farm- 
 yard with inflexible severity — and conducted every stray hog 
 or cow in triumph to the pound. But to the indigent neigh- 
 bour, the friendless stranger, or the weary wanderer, hig 
 spacious doors were ever open, and his capacious fire-place, 
 that emblem of his own warm and generous heart, had always 
 a corner to receive and cherish them. There was an exception 
 to this, I must confess, in case the ill-starred apphcant was an 
 Englishman or a Yankee, to Avhom, though he might extend 
 the hand of assistance, he never could be brought to yield the 
 rites of hospitality. Nay, if peradventure some straggling 
 merchant of the east should stop at his door, Avith his cart-load 
 of tin- ware or wooden bowls, the fiery Peter would issue forth 
 like a giant from his castle, and make such a furious clatter- 
 ing among his pots and kettles that the vender of ' ' notions''' 
 was fain to betake himself to instant flight. 
 
 His handsome suit of regimentals, worn threadbare by the 
 brush, was carefully hung up in the state bed-chamber, and 
 regularly aired on the first fair day of every month — and his 
 cocked hat and trusty sword were suspended in grim repose 
 over the parlour mantel-piece, forming supporters to a full- 
 length portrait of the renowned Adixdral Van Tromp. In his 
 domestic empire he maintained strict discipline, and a weU- 
 organized, despotic government ; but, though his own will was 
 the supreme law, yet the good of his subjects was his constant 
 object. He watched over, not merely their immediate com- 
 forts, but their morals and their ultimate welfare ; for he gave 
 them abundance of excellent admonition, nor could any of 
 them complain, that, when occasion required, he was by any 
 means niggardly in bestowing wholesome correction. 
 
 The good old Dutch festivals, those periodical demonstrations 
 of an overflowing heart and a thankful spirit, which are fall- 
 ing into sad disuse among my fellow-citizens, were faithfully 
 observed in the mansion of Governor Stuj^esant. New-year 
 was truly a day of open-handed liberality, of jocund revelry, 
 and warm-hearted congratulation— when the bosom seemed 
 to swell with genial good-fellowship — and the plenteous table 
 was attended with an unceremonious freedom, and honest, 
 broad-mouthed merriment, unknown in these days of degen- 
 eracy and refinement. Pas and Pinxter were sci-upulously 
 observed throughout his dominions; nor was the day of St. 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 301 
 
 Nicholas suffered to pass by without making presents, hang- 
 ing the stocking in the chimney, and complying with all its 
 other ceremonies. 
 
 Once a year, on the first day of April, he used to array him- 
 self in full regimentals, being the anniversary of his triumphal 
 entry into New- Amsterdam, after the conquest of New-Sweden. 
 Tliis was always a kind of saturnalia among the domestics, 
 when they considered themselves at liberty, in some measure, 
 to say and do what they pleased ; for on this day their master 
 was always observed to unbend, and become exceeding pleas- 
 ant and jocose, sending the old gray-headed negroes on April 
 fool's errands for pigeon's milk ; not one of whom but allowed 
 himself to be taken in, and humoured his old master's jokes, 
 as became a faithful and well-disciplined dependant. Thus 
 did he reign, happily and peacefully, on his own land— injur- 
 ing no man— envying no man — molested by no outward strifes 
 — perplexed by no internal commotions ; and the mighty mon- 
 archs of the earth, who were vainly seeking to maintain peace, 
 and promote the welfare of mankind, by war and desolation, 
 would have done well to have made a voyage to the little 
 island of Manna-hata, and learned a lesson in government 
 from the domestic economy of Peter Stuyvesant. 
 
 In process of time, however, the old governor, like all other 
 children of mortality, began to exhibit tokens of decay. Like 
 an aged oak, which, though it long has braved the fury of the 
 elements, and still retains its gigantic proportions, yet begins 
 to shake and groan with every blast— so was it with the gal- 
 lant Peter ; for, though he still bore the port and semblance of 
 what he was in the days of his hardihood and chivalry, yet 
 did age and infirmity begin to sap the vigour of his frame — 
 but his heart, that most unconquerable citadel, still triumphed 
 unsubdued. With matchless avidity would he listen to every 
 article of intelligence concerning the battles between the 
 English and Dutch — still would his pulse beat high, whenever 
 he heard of the victories of De Ruyter — and his countenance 
 lower, and his eyebrows knit, when fortune turned in favour 
 of the English. At length, as on a certain day he had just 
 smoked his fifth pipe, and was napping after dinner in his 
 arm-chau", conquering the whole British nation in his dream s^ 
 he was suddenly aroused by a fearful ringing of bolls, rattling 
 of drums, and roaring of cannon, that put all his blood in a 
 ferment. But when he learnt that these rejoicings were in 
 honour of a great victory obtained by the combined English 
 
802 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 and French fleets over the brave De Ruyter and the youngei 
 Van Tromp, it went so much to his heart, that he took to his 
 bed, and, in less than three days, was brought to death's door 
 by a violent cholera morbus ! But, even in this extremity, h© 
 still displayed the unconquerable spirit of Peter the Head- 
 strong; holding out, to the last gasp, with the most inflexible 
 obstinacy, against a whole army of old women, who were 
 bent upon driving the enemy out of his bowels, after a true 
 Dutch mode of defence, by inundating the seat of war with 
 catnip and pennyroyal. 
 
 While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, 
 news was brought him that the brave De Ruyter had suffered 
 but httle loss — had made good his retreat — and meant once 
 more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye of the old 
 warrior kindled at the words — he partly raised himself in bed 
 —a flash of martial fire beamed across his visage— he clenched 
 his ^vithered hand, as if he felt within his gi^ipe that sword 
 which waved in triumph before the walls of Fort Christina, 
 and, giving a grim smile of exultation, simk back upon his 
 pillow and expired. 
 
 Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier — a loyal sub- 
 ject — an upright governor, and an honest Dutchman — who 
 wanted only a few empires to desolate to have been immortal- 
 ized as a hero. 
 
 His funeral obsequies were celebrated "^dth the utmost gran- 
 deur and solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied of its 
 inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to pay the last sad hon- 
 ours to their good old governor. All his sterling quahties 
 rushed in full tide upon their recollections, while the memory 
 of his foibles and his faults had expired with him. The ancient 
 burghers contended who should have the privilege of bearing 
 the pall ; the populace strove who should walk nearest to the 
 bier — and the melancholy procession was closed by a number 
 of gray -headed negroes, who had wintered and summered in 
 the household of their departed master, for the greater part of 
 a century. 
 
 With sad and gloomy countenances the multitude gathered 
 around the grave. They dwelt with mournful hearts on the 
 sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the gallant exploits of 
 the brave old worthy. They recalled, with secret upbraidings, 
 their own factious opposition to his government — and many an 
 ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic features had never been 
 known to relax, nor his eyes to moisten, was now observed to 
 
A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 puff a pensive pipe, and the big drop to steal down his cheek 
 — while he muttered, with affectionate accent, and melancholy 
 shake of the head — "Well den! — Hardkoppig Peter ben gone 
 at last 1" 
 
 His remains were deposited in the family vault, under a chapel, 
 which he had piously erected on his estate, and dedicated to 
 St. Nicholas — and which stood on the identical spot at present 
 occupied by St. Mark's Church, where his tomb-stone is still to 
 be seen. His estate, or Bmiwery, as it was called, has ever con- 
 thiued in the possession of his descendants, who, by the imi- 
 foi-m intep^rity of their conduct and their strict adherence to 
 the customs and manners that prevailed in the good old 
 times,'^ have proved tliemcelves worthy of their illustrious an- 
 cestor. Many a lime and oft has the farm been haunted, at 
 night, by enterprising money-diggers, in quest of pots of gold, 
 said to have been buried by the old governor— though I cannot 
 learn that any of them have ever been enriched by their re- 
 seoTches : and who is there, among my native-born fellow-citi- 
 zens, that does not remember, when, in the mischievous days of 
 his boyhood, he conceived it a great exploit to rob "Stuyve- 
 sant's orchard " on a holy day afternoon? 
 
 At this S'brong-hold of the family may still be seen certain 
 memorials of the immortal Peter. His full-length portrait 
 frowns, in martial terrors from the parlour wall — his cocked 
 hat- and sword still hang up in the best bed-room — his brim- 
 stone-coloured breeches were for a long while suspended in the 
 hall, until some years since they occasioned a dispute between 
 a new married couple -and his silver-mounted wooden leg is 
 still treasured up in the store-room as an invaluable relic. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE AUTKOR'S reflections UPON WHAT HAS BEEN SATO. 
 
 Among the numerous events, which are each in their turn 
 the most direful and melancholy of all possible occurrences, 
 in your interesting and authentic history, there is none that 
 occasion such deep and heart-rending grief as the decline and 
 fall of your renowned and mighty empires. Where is the 
 reader who can contemplate, without emotion, the disastrous 
 
304 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW YORE. 
 
 events by which the great dynasties of the world have been 
 extinguished? While wandering, in imagination, among the 
 gigantic ruins of states and empires, and marking the tremen- 
 dous convulsions that wrought their overthrow, the bosom of 
 the melancholy inquirer swells with sympathy commensurate 
 to the surrounding desolation. Kingdoms, principahties, and 
 powers, have each had their rise, tlieir progress, and their 
 downfall — each in its turn has swayed a potent sceptre— each 
 has returned to its primeval nothingness. And thus did it fare 
 with the empire of their High Mightinesses, at the Manhattoes, 
 under the peaceful reign of Walter the Doubter — the fretful 
 reign of WiUiam the Testy — and the chivalric reign of Peter 
 the Headstrong. 
 
 Its history is fruitful instruction, and worthy of being pon- 
 dered over attentively; for it is by thus raking among the 
 ashes of departed greatness, that the sparks of true knowledge 
 are found, and the lamp of wisdom illumined. Let, then, the 
 reign of Walter the Doubter warn against yielding to that 
 sleek, contented security, that overweening fondness for com- 
 fort and repose, that are produced by a state of prosperity and 
 peace. These tend to unnerve a nation ; to destroy its pride of 
 character ; to render it patient of insult, deaf to the calls of 
 honour and of justice ; and cause it to chng to peace, hke the 
 sluggard to his pillow, at the expense of every valuable duty 
 and consideration. Such supineness insures the very evil from 
 which it shrinks. One right, yielded up, produces the usurpa- 
 tion of a second ; one encroachment, passively suffered, makes 
 way for another ; and the nation that thus, through a doting 
 love of peace, has sacrificed honour and interest, will at length 
 have to fight for existence. 
 
 Let the disastrous reign of William the Testy serve as a salu- 
 tary warning against that fitful, feverish mode of legislation 
 that acts without system ; depends on shifts and projects, and 
 trusts to lucky contingencies ; that hesitates, and wavers, and 
 at length decides mth the rashness of ignorance and imbecil- 
 ity; that stoops for popularity, by courthig the prejudices and 
 flattering the arrogance, rather than commanding the respect, 
 of the rabble ; that seeks safety in a multitude of counsellors, 
 and distracts itself by a variety of contradictory schemes and 
 opinions; that mistakes procrastination for deliberate wari- 
 ness — hurry for decision — starveling parsimony for wholesome 
 economy — bustle for business, and vapouring for valour ; that 
 is violent in council, sanguine in expectation, precipitate in 
 
A Ills TOUT OF NEW-TORK 
 
 805 
 
 action, and feeble in execution; that undertakes enterprises 
 without forethought, enters upon them without preparation^ 
 conducts them without energy", and ends them in confusion 
 and defeat. 
 
 Let the reign of the good Stuyvesant show the effects of vigour 
 and decision, even when destitute of cool judgment, and sur- 
 rounded by perplexities. Let it show how frankness, probity, 
 and high-souled courage will command respect and secure hon-' 
 our, even where success is unattainable. But, at the same 
 time, let it caution against a too ready rehance ou the good 
 faith of others, and a too honest confidence in the loving pro- 
 fessions of powerful neighbours, who are most friendly when 
 they most mean to betray. Let it teach a judicious attention 
 to the opinions and wishes of the many, who, in times of i)eril, 
 must be soothed and led, or apprehension will overpower the 
 deference to authority. Let the empty wordiness of his factious 
 subjects; their intemperate harangues; their violent "resolu- 
 tions;" their hectorings against an absent enemy, and their 
 pusillanimity on his approach, teach us to distrust and despise 
 those clamorous patriots whose courage dwells but in the 
 tongue. Let them serve as a lesson to repress that insolence of 
 speech, destitute of real force, which too often breaks forth in 
 popular bodies, and bespeaks the vanity rather than the spirit 
 of a nation. Let them caution us against vaunting too much 
 of our own power and prowess, and revihng a noble enemy. 
 True gallantry of soul would always lead us to treat a foe with 
 courtesy and proud punctilio ; a contrary conduct but takes from 
 the merit of victory, and renders defeat doubly disgraceful. 
 
 But I cease to dwell on the stores of excellent examples to be 
 drawn from the ancient chronicles of the Manhattoes. He who 
 reads attentively will discover the threads of gold which run 
 throughout the web of history, and are invisible to the dull eye 
 of ignorance. But, before I conclude, let me point out a solemn 
 warning, furnished in the subtle chain of events by which the 
 capture of Fort Casimir has produced the present convulsions 
 of our globe. 
 
 Attend, then, gentle reader, to this plain deduction, which, 
 if thou art a king, an emperor, or other powerful potentat'C, I 
 advise thee to treasure up in thy heart — though little expecta- 
 tion have I that my work will fall into such hands, for well 
 I know the care of crafty ministers to keep all grave and edi- 
 fying books of the kind out of the way of unhappy monarchs 
 - lest perad venture they should read them and learn wisdom. 
 
B06 
 
 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 
 
 By the treacherous surprisal of Fort Casimir, then, did the 
 crafty Swedes enjoy a transient triumph ; but drew upon their 
 heads the vengeance of Peter Stuyvesant, who wrested all 
 New-Sweden from their hands. By the conquest of NcAv-Swe- 
 den, Peter Stuyvesant aroused the claims of Lord Baltimore ; 
 who appealed to the Cabinet of Great Britain ; who subdued 
 the whole province of New-Netherlands, By this great achieve- 
 ment, the whole extent of North America, from Nova Scotia 
 to the Floridas, was rendered one entire dependency upon the 
 British crown— but mark the consequence:— The hitherto scat- 
 tered colonies being thus consolidated, and having no rival 
 colonies to check or keep them in awe, waxed great and power- 
 ful, and finally becoming too strong for the mother country, 
 were enabled to shake off its bonds, and by a glorious revolu- 
 tion became an independent empire. But the chain of efforts 
 stopped not here; the successful revolution in America pro- 
 duced the sanguinary revolution in France, which produced 
 the puissant Buonaparte, who produced the French despotism, 
 which has thrown the whole world in confusion ! — Thus have 
 these great powers been successsivly punished for their ill- 
 starred conquests— and thus, as I asserted, have all the pres- 
 entconvulsions, revolutions, and disasters that overwhelm 
 mankind, originated m the capture of the httle Fort Casimir, 
 as recorded in this eventful history. 
 
 And now, worthy reader, ere I take a sad farewell — which, 
 alas ! must be for ever— wilhngly would I part in cordial fellow- 
 ship, and bespeak thy kmd-hearted remembrance. That I have 
 not written a better history of the days of the patriarchs, is 
 not my fault— had any other person written one as good, I 
 should not have attempted it at all. That many will hereafter 
 spring up and surpass me in excellence, I have very little 
 doubt, and still less care ; well knowing, when the great Christo- 
 vallo Colon (who is vulgarly called Columbus) had once stood 
 his egg upon its end, every one at the table could stand his up 
 a thousand times more dexterously. Should any reader find 
 matter of offence in this history, I should heartily grieve, 
 though I would on no account question his penetration by tell- 
 ing him he is mistal^en — his good nature, by telhng him he is 
 captious— or his pure conscience, by teUing him he is startled 
 at a shadow. Surely if he is so ingenious in finding offence 
 where none is intended, it were a thousand pities he should n^t 
 be suffered to enjoy the benefit of his discovery. 
 
 I have too high an opinion of the imderstanding of my fellow- 
 
A HISTORY OF M^JW-YORK. 
 
 307 
 
 citizens, to think of yielding them any instruction ; and I covet 
 too much their good-will, to forfeit it by giving them good ad- 
 vice. I am none of those cynics who despise the world because 
 it despises them — on the contrary, though but low in its regard, 
 I look up to it with the most perfect good nature, and my only 
 sorrow is, that it does not prove itself more worthy of the un- 
 bounded love I bear it. 
 
 .If, however, in this my historic production— the scanty fruit 
 of a long and laborious life— I have failed to gratify the dainty 
 palate of the age, I can only lament my misfortune— for it is 
 too late in the season for me even to hope to repair it. Already 
 has withering age showered his sterile snows upon my brow ; 
 in a little while, and this genial warmth, which still lingers 
 around my heart, and throbs— worthy reader — throbs kindly 
 towards thyself, will be chilled for ever. Haply this frail 
 compound of dust, which while alive may have given birth to 
 nought but unprofitable weeds, may form an humble sod of the 
 valley, from whence may spring many a sweet wild flower, to 
 adorn my beloved island of Manna-hata! 
 
THE 
 
 CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 BY 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mount Joy 5 
 
 The Great Mississippi Bubble 41 
 
 Don Juan— a Spectral Research , 70 
 
 Bhoek; or the Dutch Paradise 78 
 
 Sketches in Paris, 1828 — My French Neighbor; the Englishman at Paris; Eng- 
 lish and French Character; the Tuileries and Windsor Castle; the Field of 
 
 "Waterloo; Paris at the Restoration 83 
 
 American Researches in Italy— Life of Tasso; Recovery of a Lost Portrait of 
 
 Dante 101 
 
 The Taking or the \ -^il 106 
 
 The Charming Letorieres 113 
 
 The Early Experiences of Ralph Ringwood 116 
 
 The Seminoles— Origin of the White, Red, and Black Men; the Conspiracy of 
 
 Neamathla 144 
 
 Letter prom Granada 155 
 
 Abderahman, Founder of the Dynasty of the Ommiades in Spain 161 
 
 The Widow's Ordeal 179 
 
 The Creole Village 189 
 
 A Contented Man 196 
 
THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEOFFEET CRAYON, GENT. 
 
 MOUNT JOY: 
 
 OR SOME PASSAGES OUT OF THE LIFE OF A CASTLE-BUILDER. 
 
 I WAS born among romantic scenery, in one of the wildest 
 parts of the Hudson, which at that time was not so thickly- 
 settled as at present. My father was descended from one of the 
 old Huguenot families, that came over to this country on the 
 revocation of the edict of Nantz. He lived in a style of easy, 
 rural independence, on a patrimonial estate that had been for 
 two or three generations in the family. He was an indolent, 
 good-natured man, who took the world as it went, and had a 
 kind of laughing philosophy, that parried all rubs and mis- 
 haps, and served him in the place of wisdom. This was the 
 part of his character least to my taste ; for I was of an enthusi- 
 astic, excitable temperament, prone to kindle up with new 
 schemes and projects, and he was apt to dash my sallying 
 enthusiasm by some unlucky joke ; so that whenever I was in 
 a glow with any sudden excitement, I stood in mortal dread of 
 his good-humor. 
 
 Yet he indulged me in every vagary ; for I was an only son, 
 and of course a personage of importance in the household. I 
 had two sisters older than myself, and one younger. The 
 former were educated at New York, under the eye of a 
 maiden aunt; the latter rempJned at home, and was my 
 cherished playmate, the companion of my thoughts. We 
 were two imaginative little beings, of quick susceptibility, 
 and prone to see wonders and mysteries in everything around 
 us. Scarce had we learned to read, when our mother made 
 us hohday presents of all the nursery Uterature of the day; 
 
6 
 
 THE CRA YON PAPERS, 
 
 which at that time consisted of little books covered with gilt 
 paper, adorned with "cuts," and filled with tales of fairies, 
 giants, and enchanters. What draughts of delightful fiction 
 did we then inhale ! My sister Sophy was of a soft and ten- 
 der nature. She would weep over the woes of the Childi-en 
 in the Wood, or quake at the dark romance of Blue-Beard, 
 and the terrible mysteries of the blue chamber. But I was 
 all for enterprise and adventure. I burned to emulate the 
 deeds of that heroic prince who delivered the white cat from 
 her enchantment ; or he of no less royal blood, and doughty 
 enterprise, who broke the charmed slumber of the Beauty in 
 the Wood! 
 
 The house in which we Hved was just the kind of place to 
 foster such propensities. It was a venerable mansion, half 
 villa, half farmhouse. The oldest part was of stone, with 
 loop-holes for musketry, having served as a family fortress 
 in the time of the Indians. To this there had been made vari- 
 ous additions, some of brick, some of wood, according to the 
 exigencies of the moment; so that it was fuU of nooks and 
 crooks, and chambers of all sorts and sizes. It was buried 
 among wiUows, elms, and cherry trees, and surrounded with 
 roses and hollyhocks, with honeysuckle and sweet-brier 
 clambering about every window. A brood of hereditary 
 pigeons sunned themselves upon the roof; hereditary swsd- 
 lows and martins built about the eaves and chimneys; and 
 hereditary bees hummed about the flower-beds. 
 
 Under the influence of our story-books every object around 
 us now assumed a new character, and a charmed interest. 
 The wild flowers were no longer the mere ornaments of the 
 fields, or the resorts of the toilful bee ; they were the lurking 
 places of fairies. We would watch the humming-bird, as it 
 hovered around the trumpet creeper at our porch, and the 
 butterfly as it flitted up into the blue air, above the sunny 
 tree tops, and fancy them some of the tiny beings from fairy 
 land I would call to mind all that I had read of Robin Good- 
 fellow and his power of transformation. Oh how I envied him 
 that power ! How I longed to be able to compress my form 
 into utter littleness ; to ride the bold dragon-fly ; swing on the 
 tall bearded grass ; follow the ant into his subterraneous habi- 
 tation, or dive into the cavernous depths of the honeysuckle ! 
 
 While I was yet a mere child I was sent to a daily school, 
 about two miles distant. The school-house was on the edge of 
 a wood, close by a brook overhung with birches, alders, and 
 
MOUNT JOT. 
 
 7 
 
 dwarf willows. We of the school who lived at some distance 
 came with our dinners put up in little baskets. In the in- 
 tervals of school hours we would gather round a spring, 
 under a tuft of hazel-bushes, and have a kind of picnic; 
 interchanging the rustic dainties with wliich our provident 
 mothers had fitted us out. Then when our joyous repast was 
 over, and my companions were disposed for play, I would 
 draw forth one of my cherished story-books, stretch myself 
 on the greensward, and soon lose myseK in its bewitching 
 contents. 
 
 I became an oracle among my schoolmates on account of my 
 superior erudition, and soon imparted to them the contagion 
 of my infected fancy. Often in the evening, after school 
 hours, we would sit on the trunk of some fallen tree in the 
 woods, and vie with each other in telling extravagant stories, 
 imtil the whip-poor-will began his nightly moaning, and the 
 fire-flies sparkled in the gloom. Then came the perilous jour- 
 ney homeward. What delight we would take in getting up 
 wanton panics in some dusky part of the wood; scampering 
 like frightened deer; pausmg to take breath; renewing the 
 panic, and scampering off again, wild with fictitious terror ! 
 
 Our greatest trial was to pass a dark, lonely pool, covered 
 with pond-lilies, peopled with bull-frogs and water snakes, and 
 haunted by two white cranes. Oh ! the terrors of that pond ! 
 How our little hearts would beat as we approached it ; what 
 fearful glances we would throw around ! And if by chance a 
 plash of a wild duck, or the guttural twang of a bull-frog, 
 struck our ears, as we stole quietly by— away we sped, nor 
 paused until completely out of the woods, "then, when I 
 reached home what a world of adventures and imaginary 
 terrors would I have to relate to my sister Sophy ! 
 
 As I advanced in years, this turn of mind increased upon 
 me, and became more confirmed. I abandoned myself to the 
 impulses of a romantic imagination, which controlled my 
 studies, and gave a bias to all my habits. My father observed 
 me continually with a book in my hand, and satisfied himself 
 that I was a profound student; but what were my studies? 
 Works of fiction; tales of chivalry; voyages of discovery; 
 travels in the East ; everything, in short, that partook of adven- 
 ture and romance. I well remember with what zest I entered 
 apon that part of my studies which treated of the heathen 
 mythology, and particularly of the sylvan deities. Then in- 
 deed my school books became dear to me. The neighborhood 
 
8 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 was well calculated to foster the reveries of a mind like mine. 
 It abounded with solitary retreats, wild streams, solemn for- 
 ests, and silent valleys. I would ramble about for a whole day 
 with a volume of Ovid's Metamorphoses in my pocket, and 
 work myself into a kind of self-delusion, so as to identify the 
 surrounding scenes with those of which I had just been read- 
 ing. I would loiter about a brook that glided through the 
 shadowy depths of the forest, picturing it to myself the haunt 
 of Naiads. I would steal round some bushy copse that opened 
 upon a glade, as if I expected to come suddenly upon Diana 
 and her nymphs, or to behold Pan and his satyrs bounding, 
 with whoop and halloo, through the woodland. I would throw 
 myself, during the panting heats of a summer noon, under the 
 shade of some wide-spreading tree, and muse and dream away 
 the hours, in a state of mental intoxication. I drank in the 
 very light of day, as nectar, and my soul seemed to bathe with 
 ecstasy in the deep blue of a summer sky. 
 
 In these wanderings, nothing occurred to jar my feelings, or 
 bring me back to the reahties of life. There is a repose in our 
 mighty forests that gives full scope to the imagination. Now 
 and then I would hear the distant sound of the wood-cutter's 
 axe, or the crash of some tree which he had laid low ; but these 
 noises, echoing along the quiet landscape, could easily be 
 wrought by fancy into harmony with its illusions. In general, 
 however, the woody recesses of the neighborhood were pecu- 
 liarly wild and unfrequented. I could ramble for a whole 
 day, without coming upon any traces of cultivation. The 
 partridge of the wood scarcely seemed to shun my path, and 
 the squirrel, from his nut-tree, would gaze at me for an 
 instant, with sparlduig eye, as if wondering at the unwonted 
 intrusion. 
 
 I cannot help dwelling on this delicious period of my hf e ; 
 when as yet I had kno^vn no sorrow, nor experienced any 
 worldly care. I have since studied much, both of books and 
 men, and of course have grown too wise to be so easily pleased ; 
 yet with all my wisdom, I must confess I look back with a 
 secret feeling of regret to the days of happy ignorance, before 
 I had begun to be a philosopher. 
 
 It must be evident that I was in a hopeful training for one 
 who was to descend into the arena of Hfe, and wrestle Avith the 
 world. The tutor, also, who superintended my studies in the 
 
MOUNT JOY, 
 
 9 
 
 more advanced stage of my education was just fitted to com- 
 plete the fata morgana which was forming in my mind. His 
 name was Glencoe. He was a pale, melancholy-looking man, 
 about forty years of age ; a native of Scotland, liberally edu- 
 cated, and who had devoted himself to the instruction of youth 
 from taste rather than necessity ; for, as he said, he loved the 
 human heart, and delighted to study it in its earlier impulses. 
 My two elder sisters, having returned home from a city board- 
 ing-school, were likewise placed under his care, to direct their 
 reading in history and belle-lettres. 
 
 We all soon became attached to Glencoe. It is true, we were 
 at first somewhat prepossessed against him. His meagre, pal- 
 lid countenance, his broad pronunciation, his inattention to 
 the httle forms of society, and an awkward and embarrassed 
 manner, on first acquaintance^ were much against him; but 
 we soon discovered that under this unpromising exterior existed 
 the kindest urbanity of temper ; the warmest sympathies ; the 
 most enthusiastic benevolence. His mind was ingenious and 
 acute. His reading had been various, but more abstruse than 
 profound ; his memory was stored, on all subjects, with facts, 
 theories, and quotations, and crowded with crude materials for 
 thinking. These, in a moment of excitement, would be, as it 
 were, melted down, and poured forth in the lava of a heated 
 unagmation. At such moments, the change in the whole man 
 was wonderful. His meagre form would acquire a dignity and 
 grace ; his long, pale visage would flash with a hectic glow ; his 
 eyes would beam with intense speculation ; and there would be 
 pathetic tones and deep modulations in his voice, that delighted 
 the ear, and spoke movingly to the heart. 
 
 But what most endeared him to us was the kindness and 
 sympathy with which he entered into all our interests and 
 wishes. Instead of curbing and checking oiu' young imagina- 
 tions with the reins of sober reason, he was a httle too apt to 
 catch the impulse and be hurried away with us. He could not 
 withstand the excitement of any sally of feeling or fancy, and 
 was prone to lend heightening tints to the illusive coloring of 
 youthful anticipations. 
 
 Under his guidance my sisters and myself soon entered upon 
 a more extended range of studies ; but while they wandered, 
 with delighted minds, through the wide field of history and 
 belles-lettres, a nobler walk was opened to my superior intel- 
 lect. 
 
 The mind of Glencoe presented a singular mixture of phi- 
 
10 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 losophy and poetry. He was fond of metaphysics and prone 
 to indulge in abstract speculations, though his metaphysics 
 were somewhat fine spun and fanciful, and his speculations 
 were apt to partake of what my father most irreverently 
 termed "humbug." For my part, I delighted in them, and 
 the more especially because they set my father to sleep and 
 completely confounded my sisters. I entered with my accus- 
 tomed eagerness into this new branch of study. Metaphysics 
 were now my passion. My sisters attempted to accompany 
 me, but they soon faltered, and gave out before they had got 
 half way through Smith's Theory of the Moral Sentiments. I, 
 however, went on, exulting in my strength. Glencoe supplied 
 me with books, and I devoured them with appetite, if not diges- 
 tion. We walked and talked together under the trees before 
 the house, or sat apart, Hke Milton's angels, and held high con- 
 verse upon themes beyond the grasp of ordinary intellects. 
 Glencoe possessed a kind of philosophic chivalry, in imitation 
 of the old peripatetic sages, and was continually dreaming of 
 romantic enterprises in morals, and splendid systems for the 
 improvement of society. He had a fanciful mode of illustrat- 
 ing abstract subjects, peculiarly to my taste; clothing them 
 with the language of poetry, and throAving round them almost 
 the magic hues of fiction. " How charming, " thought T, "is 
 divine philosophy not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools sup- 
 pose, 
 
 " But a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, 
 Whei-e uo crude surfeit reigns." 
 
 I felt a wonderful self-complacency at being on such excel- 
 lent terms with a man whom I considered on a parallel with 
 the sages of antiquity, and looked down with a sentiment of 
 pity on the feebler intellects of my sisters, who could compre- 
 hend nothing of metaphysics. It is true, when I attempted to 
 study them by myself, I was apt to get in a fog ; but when 
 Glencoe came to my aid, everything was soon as clear to me 
 as day. My ear drank in the beauty of his words ; my imagi- 
 nation was dazzled with the splendor of his illustrations. It 
 caught up the sparkhng sands of poetry that glittered through 
 his speculations, and mistook them for the golden ore of wis- 
 dom. Struck with the facihty with which I seemed to imbibe 
 and relish the most abstract doctrines, I conceived a still higher 
 opinion of my mental powers, and was convinced that I also 
 •was a philosopher. 
 
M0U2s'TJ0T. 
 
 ii 
 
 I was now verging toward man's estate, and though my edu- 
 cation had been extremely irregular — following the caprices of 
 my humor, which 1 mistook for the impulses of my genius — 
 yet I was regarded with wonder and dehght by my mother and 
 sisters, who considered me almost as wise and infallible as I 
 considered myself. Tliis high opinion of me was strengthened 
 by a declamatory habit, wliich made me an oracle and orator ' 
 at the domestic board. The time was now at hand, however, 
 that was to put my philosophy to the test. 
 
 We had passed through a long winter, and the spring at 
 length opened upon us with unusual sweetness. The soft 
 serenity of the weather ; the beauty of the surrounding coun- 
 try ; the joyous notes of the birds; the bahny breath of flower 
 and blossom, all combined to fill my bosom with indistinct sen- 
 sations, and nameless wishes. Amid the soft seductions of the 
 season, I lapsed into a state of utter indolence, both of body 
 and mind. 
 
 Pliilosophy had lost its charms for me. Metaphysics— faugh I 
 I tried to study ; took down volume after volume, ran my eye 
 vacantly over a few pages, and threw them by with distaste. 
 I loitered about the house, with my hands in my pockets, and 
 an air of complete vacancy. Something v/as necessary to make 
 me happy; but what was that something? I sauntered to the 
 apartments of my sisters, hoping their conversation might 
 amuse me. They had walked out, and the room was vacant. 
 On the table lay a volume which they had been reading. It 
 was a novel. I had never read a novel, having conceived a 
 contempt for works of the kind, from hearing them universally 
 condemned. It is true, I had remarked that they were as uni- 
 versally read ; but I considered them beneath the attention of 
 a philosopher, and never would venture to read them, lest I 
 should lessen my mental superiority in the eyes of my sisters. 
 Nay, I had taken up a work of the kind now and then, when I 
 knew my sisters were obsei-ving me, looked into it for a mo- 
 ment, and then laid it down, -with a shght supercihous smile. 
 On the present occasion, out of mere listlessness, I took up the 
 volume and turned over a few of the first pages. I thought I 
 heard some one coming, and laid it down. I was mistaken ; no 
 one was near, and what I had read, tempted my curiosity to 
 read a httle further. I leaned against a window-frame, and in 
 a few minutes was completely lost in the story. How long I 
 stood there reading I know not, but I believe for nearly two 
 hours. Suddenly I heard my sisters on the stairs, when I 
 
12 
 
 THE CUAYON PAPEHS. 
 
 thrust the book into my bosom, and the two other volumes 
 which lay near into my pockets, and hurried out of the house 
 to my beloved woods. Here I remained all day beneath the 
 trees, bewildered, bewitched, devouring the contents of these 
 dehcious volumes, and only returned to the house when it was 
 too dark to peruse their pages. 
 
 This novel finished, I replaced it in my sisters' apartment, 
 and looked for others. Their stock was amx^le, for they had 
 brought home all that were current in the city ; but my appe- 
 tite demanded an inmaense supply. All this course of reading 
 was carried on clandestinely, for I was a little ashamed of it, 
 and fearful that my wisdom might be called in question ; but 
 this very privacy gave it additional zest. It was ' ' bread eaten 
 in secret it had the charm of a private amour. 
 
 But think what must have been the eifect of such a course of 
 reading on a youth of my temperament and turn of mind ; in- 
 dulged, too, amid romantic scenery and in the romantic season 
 of the year. It seemed as if I had entered upon a new scene 
 of existence. A train of combustible feelings were hghted up 
 in me, and my soul was all tenderness and passion. Never 
 was youth more completely love-sick, though as yet it was a 
 mere general sentiment, and wanted a definite object. Unfor- 
 tunately, our neighborhood was particularly deficient in female 
 society, and I languished in vain for some divinity to whom I 
 might offer up this most uneasy burden of affections. I was at 
 one time seriously enamored of a lady whom I saw occasion- 
 ally in my rides, reading at the window of a country-seat ; and 
 actually serenaded her with my flute ; when, to my confusion, 
 I discovered that she was old enough to be my mother. It was 
 a sad damper to my romance ; especially as my father heard 
 of it, and made it the subject of one of those household jokes 
 which he was apt to serve up at every meal-time. 
 
 I soon recovered from this check, however, but it was only 
 to relapse into a state of amorous excitement. I passed whole 
 days in the fields, and along the brooks; for there is something 
 in the tender passion that makes us alive to the beauties of 
 nature. A soft sunshiny morning infused a sort of rapture 
 into my breast. I flung open my arms, like the Grecian youth 
 in Ovid, as if I would take in and embrace the balmy atmos- 
 phere.* The song of the birds melted me to tenderness. I 
 would lie by the side of some rivulet for hours, and form gar- 
 
 ♦ Ovid's *' Metamorphoses." Book vil 
 
MOUNT JOY. 
 
 13 
 
 lands of the flowers on its banks, and muse on ideal beauties, 
 and sigh from the crowd of undefined emotions that swelled 
 my bosom. 
 
 In this state of amorous delirium, I was strolling one morn- 
 ing along a beautiful wild brook, which I had discovered in a 
 glen. There was one place where a small waterfall, leaping 
 from among rocks into a natural basin, made a scene such as a 
 poet might have chosen as the haunt of some shy Naiad. It 
 was here I usually retired to banquet on my novels. In visiting 
 the place this morning I traced distinctly, on the margin of the 
 basm, which was of fine clear sand, the prints of a female foot 
 of the most slender and delicate proportions. This was suffi- 
 cient for an imagination hke mine. Robinson Crusoe himself, 
 when he discovered the print of a savage foot on the beach of 
 liis lonely island, could not have been more suddenly assailed 
 with thick-conung fancies. 
 
 I endeavored to track the steps, but they only passed for a 
 few paces along the fine sand, and then were lost among the 
 herbage. I remained gazing in reverie upon this passing trace 
 of lovehness. It evidently was not made by any of my sisters, 
 for they knew nothing of this haunt; beside, the foot was 
 smaller than theirs; it was remarkable for its beautiful deli- 
 cacy. 
 
 My eye accidentally caught two or three half -withered wild 
 flowers lying on the ground. The unknown nymph had 
 doubtless dropped them from her bosom! Here was a new 
 document of taste and sentiment. I treasured them up as 
 invaluable rehcs. The place, too, where I found them, was 
 remarkably picturesque, and the most beautiful part of the 
 brook. It was overhung with a fine elm, entwined with gi^ape- 
 vines. She who could select such a spot, who could dehght in 
 wild brooks, and wild flowers, and silent solitudes, must have 
 fancy, and feeling, and tenderness ; and with all these qualities, 
 she must be beautiful I 
 
 But who could be this Unknown, that had thus passed by, as 
 in a morning dream, leaving merely flowers and f any footsteps 
 to tell of her lovehness? There was a mystery in it that be- 
 wildered me. It was so vague and disembodied, hke those 
 "airy tongues that syllable men's names" in solitude. Every 
 attempt to solve the mystery was vain. I could hear of no 
 being in the neighborhood to whom this trace could be 
 ascribed. I haunted the spot, and became daily more and 
 more enamored. Never, surely^ was passion more pure and 
 
14 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 spii'itual, and never lover in more dubious situation. My case 
 could be compared only to that of the amorous prince in the 
 fairy tale of Cinderella ; but he had a glass sHpper on which to 
 lavish his tenderness. I, alas ! was in love with a footstep ! 
 The imagination is alternately a cheat and a dupe; nay, 
 
 more, it is the most subtle of cheats, for it cheats itself and 
 becomes the dupe of its own delusions. It conjures up "airy 
 nothings," gives to them a "local habitation and a name," and 
 then bows to their control as implicitly as though they were 
 realities. Such was now my case. The good Numa could not 
 more thoroughly have persuaded himself that the nymph 
 Egeria hovered about her sacred fountain and communed with 
 him in spirit, than I had deceived myself into a kind of vision- 
 ary intercourse with the airy phantom fabricated in my brain. 
 I constructed a rustic seat at the foot of the tree where I had 
 discovered the footsteps. I made a kind of bower there, where 
 I used to pass my mornings reading poetry and romances. I 
 carved hearts and darts on the tree, and hung it with garlands. 
 My heart was full to overflowing, and wanted some faithful 
 bosom into which it might relieve itself. What is a lover 
 without a confidante? I thought at once of my sister Sophy, 
 my early playmate, the sister of my affections. She was so 
 reasonable, too, and of such correct feelings, always listening 
 to my words as oracular sayings, and admiring my scraps of 
 poetry as the very inspirations of the muse. From such a de- 
 voted, such a rational being, what secrets could I have? 
 
 I accordingly took her one morning to my favorite retreat. 
 She looked around, with delighted surprise, upon the rustic 
 seat, the bower, the tree carved with emblems of the tender 
 passion. She turned her eyes upon me to inquire the meaning. 
 
 " Oh, Sophy," exclaimed I, clasping both her hands in mine, 
 and looking earnestly in her face, "I am in love." 
 
 She started with surprise. 
 
 "Sit down," said I, "and I %vill teU you all." 
 
 She seated herself upon the rustic bench, and I went into a 
 full history of the footstep, with all the associations of idea 
 that had been conjured up by my imagination. 
 
 Sophy was enchanted ; it was like a fairy tale ; she had read 
 of such mysterious visitations in books, and the loves thus con- 
 ceived were always for beings of superior order, and were 
 always happy. She caught the illusion in all its force; her 
 cheek glowed ; her eye brightened. 
 
MOUNT JOY. 
 
 15 
 
 I dare say she's pretty," said Sophy. 
 
 "Pretty!" echoed I, **she is beautiful!" I went through all 
 the reasoning by which I had logically proved the fact to my 
 own satisfaction. I dwelt upon the evidences of her taste, her 
 sensibihty to the beauties of nature ; her soft meditative habit, 
 that dehghted in sohtude. "Oh," said I, clasping my hands, 
 ' ' to have such a companion to wander through these scenes ; 
 to sit with her by this murmuring stream ; to wreathe garlands 
 round her brows ; to hear the music of her voice minghng with 
 the whisperings of these groves ; to — " 
 
 "Delightful! delightful !" cried Sophy; "what a sweet crea- 
 ture she must be ! She is just the friend I want. How I shaU 
 dote upon her ! Oh, my dear brother ! you must not keep her 
 all to yourseK. You must let me have some share of her !" 
 
 I caught her to my bosom: " You shaU— you shall!" cried I, 
 "my dear Sophy; we wiU aU live for each other!" 
 
 The conversation with Sophy heightened the illusions of my 
 mind; and the manner in which she had treated my day- 
 dream identified it with facts and persons and gave it still 
 more the stamp of reahty. I walked about as one in a trance, 
 heedless of the world around, and lapped in an elysium of the 
 fancy. 
 
 In tills mood I met one morning with Glencoe. He accosted 
 me with his usual smile, and was proceeding with some gene- 
 ral observations, but paused and fixed on me an inquiring eye. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" said he, "you seem agi- 
 tated ; has anything in particular happened?" 
 
 "Nothing," said I, hesitating; " at least nothing worth com- 
 municating to you. " 
 
 "Nay, my dear young friend," said he, "whatever is of 
 sufficient importance to agitate you is worthy of being com- 
 municated to me." 
 
 ' ' Well ; but my thoughts are running on what you would 
 think a frivolous subject." 
 
 "No subject is frivolous that has the power to awaken 
 strong feehngs." 
 
 "What think you," said I, hesitating, "what think you of 
 love?" 
 
 Glencoe almost started at the question. "Do you caU that 
 a frivolous subject?" replied he. "Befieve me, there is none 
 fraught Avith such deep, such vital interest. If you talk. 
 
IG 
 
 THE C RATON PAPERS. 
 
 indeed, of the capricious inclination awakened by the mere 
 charm of perishable beauty, I grant it to be idle in the ex- 
 treme; but that love which springs fi'om the concordant 
 sympathies of virtuous hearts; that love which is awakened 
 by the perception of moral excellence, and fed by meditation 
 on intellectual as weU as personal beauty; that is a passion 
 which refines and ennobles the human heart. Oh, "svhere is 
 there a sight more nearly approaching to the iatercourse of 
 angels, than that of two young beings, free from the suis 
 and foUies of the world, mingluig pure thoughts, and looks, 
 and feeliags, and becoming as it were soul of one soul and 
 heart of one heart! How exquisite the silent converse that 
 they hold ; the soft devotion of the eye, that needs no words 
 to make it eloquent! Yes, my friend, if there be anything 
 in this weary ^vorld worthy of heaven, it is the pure bliss of 
 such a mutual affection !'' 
 
 The words of my worthy tutor overcame all farther re- 
 serve. "Mr. Glencoe," cried I, blushing stiU deeper, "I am 
 in love. " 
 
 "And is that what you were ashamed to tell me? Oh, 
 never seek to conceal from your friend so important a secret. 
 If your passion be unworthy, it is for the steady hand of 
 friendship to pluck it forth ; if honorable, none but an enemy 
 would seek to stifle it. On nothing does the character and 
 happiness so much depend as on the first affection of the 
 heart. Were you caught by some fleetmg and superficial 
 charm — a bright eye, a bloormng cheek, a soft voice, or a 
 voluptuous form— I would warn you to beware ; I would tell 
 you that beauty is but a passing gleam of the morning, a 
 perishable flower; that accident may becloud and bhght it, 
 and that at best it must soon pass away. But were you in 
 love with such a one as I coidd describe ; young in yeai-s, but 
 still younger in f eehngs ; lovely in person, but as a type of the 
 mind's beauty ; soft in voice, in token of gentleness of spirit ; 
 blooming in countenance, hke the rosy tints of morning kind- 
 ling with the promise of a genial day ; and eye beaming with 
 the benignity of a happy heart ; a cheerful temper, auve to all 
 kind impulses, and frankly diffusing its own f ehcity ; a self- 
 poised mind, that needs not lean on others for support ; an ele- 
 gant taste, that can embeUish sohtude, and furnish out its own 
 enjoyments — " 
 
 "My dear sir," cried I, for I could contain myself no longer, 
 you have described the very person!" 
 
WOUNTJOY. 
 
 17 
 
 *' Why, then, my dear young friend," said he, affectionately 
 pressing my hand, " in God's name, love on!" 
 
 For the remainder of the day I was in some such state of 
 dreamy beatitude as a Turk is said to enjoy when under the 
 influence of opium. It must be already manifest how prone I 
 was to bewilder myself with picturings of the fancy, so as to 
 confound them with existing realities. In the present instance, 
 Sophy and Glencoe had contributed to promote the transient 
 delusion. Sophy, dear girl, had as usual joined with me in 
 my castle-building, and indulged in the same train of imagin- 
 ings, while Glencoe, duped by my enthusiasm, firmly beheved 
 that I spoke of a being I had seen and known. By their sym- 
 pathy with my feehngs they in a manner became associated 
 with the Unknown in my mind, and thus linked her with the 
 circle of my intimacy. 
 
 In the evening, our family party was assembled in the hall, 
 to enjoy the refreshing breeze. Sophy was playing some 
 favorite Scotch airs on the piano, while Glencoe, seated apart, 
 with his forehead resting on his hand, was buried in one of 
 those pensive reveries that made Mm so interesting to me. 
 
 "What a fortunate being I am!" thought I, "blessed v/ith 
 such a sister and such a friend ! I have only to. find out this 
 amiable Unknown, to wed her, and be happy ! What a para- 
 dise will be my home, graced with a partner of such exquisite 
 refinement! It wiU be a perfect fairy bower, buried among 
 sweets and roses. Sophy shall live with us, and be the com- 
 panion of all our enjoyment. Glencoe, too, shall no more be 
 the solitary being that he now appears. He shall have a 
 home with us. He shall have his study, where, when he 
 pleases, he may shut himself up from the world, and bury him- 
 self in his own reflections. His retreat shall be sacred; no 
 one shall intmde there; no one but myself, who will visit 
 him now and then, in his seclusion, where we wiU devise 
 grand schemes togetker for the improvement of mankind. 
 How dehghtfuUy our days will pass, in a round of rational 
 pleasures and elegant employments ! Sometimes we will have 
 music; sometmies we will read; sometimes we '^\dll wander 
 through the flower garden, when I will smile with complacency 
 on every flower my wife has planted ; while in the long winter 
 evenings the ladies will sit at their work, and listen with 
 hushed attention to Glencoe and myself, as we discuss the 
 abstruse doctrines of metaphysics." 
 
18- 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS, 
 
 From this delectable reverie, I was startled by my father's 
 slapping me on the shoulder: " What possesses the lad?" cried 
 he; "here have I been speaking to you half a dozen times, 
 without receiving an answer." 
 
 "Pardon me, sir," replied I; "I was so completely lost in 
 thought, that I did not hear you." 
 
 "Lost in thought! And pray what were you thinking of? 
 Some of your philosophy, I suppose." 
 
 "Upon my word," said my sister Charlotte, with an arch 
 laugh, "I suspect Harry's in love again." 
 
 "And if I were in love, Charlotte," said I, somewhat net- 
 tled, and recollecting Glencoe's enthusiastic eulogy of the pas- 
 sion, "if I were in love, is that a matter of jest and laughter? 
 Is the tenderest and most fervid affection that can animate 
 the human breast, to be made a matter of cold-hearted ridi- 
 cule?" 
 
 My sister colored. " Certainly not, brother I— nor did I mean 
 to make it so, or to say anything that should wound your feel- 
 ings. Had I really suspected you had formed some genuine 
 attachment, it would have been sacred in my eyes ; but — but, " 
 said she, smiling, as if at some whimsical recollection, "I 
 thought that you — you might be indulging in another httle 
 freak of the imagination. " 
 
 " I'll wager any money," cried my father, " he has fallen in 
 love again with some old lady at a window I" 
 
 "Oh no !" cried my dear sister Sophy, with the most gracious 
 warmth ; ' ' she is young and beautiful. " 
 
 "From what I understand," said Glencoe, rousing himself, 
 "she must be lovely in mind as in person." 
 
 I found my friends were getting me into a fine scrape. I 
 began to perspire at every pore, and felt my ears tingle. 
 
 "Well, but," cried my father, "who is she? — ^what is she? 
 Let us hear something about her. " 
 
 This was no time to explain so dehcate a matter. I caught 
 up my hat, and vanished out of the hou^. 
 
 The moment I was in the open air, and alone, my heart up- 
 braided me. Was this respectful treatment to my father — to 
 such a father, too — who had always regarded me as the pride 
 of his age — the staff of liis hopes ? It is true, he was apt some- 
 times to laugh at my enthusiastic flights, and did not treat my 
 philosophy with due respect ; but when had he ever thwarted 
 a wish of my heart ? Was I then to act with reserve toward 
 him, in a matter which might affect the whole current of my 
 
MOUNT JOY. 
 
 IC 
 
 future life? '*I have done wrong," thought I; "but it is not 
 too late to remedy it. I will hasten back and open my whole 
 heart to my father !" 
 
 I returned accordingly, and was just on the point of entering 
 the house, with my heart full of filial piety, and a contrite 
 speech upon my lips, when I heard a burst of obstreperous 
 laughter from my father, and a loud titter from my two elder 
 sisters. 
 
 "A footstep!" shouted he, as soon as he could recover him- 
 seK; "in love with a footstep! Why, this beats the old lady at 
 the window !" And then there was another appaUing burst of 
 laughter. Had it been a clap of thunder, it could hardly have 
 astounded me more completely. Sophy, in the simphcity of 
 her heart, had told all, and had set my father's risible pro- 
 pensities in full action. 
 
 Never was poor mortal so thoroughly crestfallen as myself. 
 The whole delusion was at an end. I drew off silently from the 
 house, shrinking smaller and smaller at every fresh peal of 
 laughter; and wandering about until the family had retired, 
 stole quietly to my bed. Scarce any sleep, however, visited 
 my eyes that night! I lay overwhelmed with mortification, 
 and meditatmg how I might meet the family in the morning. 
 The idea of ridicule was always intolerable to me; but to 
 endure it on a subject by which my feelings had been so much 
 excited, seemed worse than death. I almost determined, at 
 one time, to get up, saddle my horse, and ride off, I knew not 
 whither. 
 
 At length I came to a resolution. Before going down to 
 breakfast, I sent for Sophy, and employed her as ambassador 
 to treat formally in the matter. I insisted that the subject 
 shoidd be buried in oblivion ; otherwise I would not show my 
 face at table. It was readily agreed to; for not one of the 
 family would have given me pain for the world. They faith- 
 fully kept their promise. Not a word was said of the matter ; 
 but there were wry faces, and suppressed titters, that went to 
 my soul; and whenever my father looked me in the face, it 
 was with such a tragi-comical leer — such an attempt to pull 
 down a serious brow upon a whimsical mouth — that I had a 
 thousand times rather he had laughed ©utright. 
 
 For a day or two after the mortifying occurrence just re- 
 lated, I kept as much as possible out of the way of the famil5^ 
 
20 
 
 THE CRAYOJY PAPERS. 
 
 and wandered about the fields and woods by myself. I was 
 sadly out of tune ; my feelings were all jarred and mistrung. 
 The bu'ds sang from CA^ery grove, but I took no pleasure in 
 their melody ; and the flowers of the field bloomed unheeded 
 around me. To be crossed in love, is bad enough; but then 
 one can fly to poetry for relief, and turn one's woes to account 
 in soul-subduing stanzas. But to have one's whole passion, 
 object and all, anniliilated, dispelled, proved to be such stuff as 
 dreams are made of — or, worse than all, to be turned into a 
 proverb and a jest — what consolation is there in such a case ? 
 
 I avoided the fatal brook where I had seen the footstep. My 
 favorite resort was now the banks of the Hudson, where I sat 
 upon the rocks and mused upon the current that dimpled by, 
 or the waves that laved the shore; or watched the bright 
 mutations of the clouds, and the shifting lights and shadows 
 of the distant mountain. By degrees a returning serenity 
 stole over my feelings ; and a sigh now and then, gentle and 
 easy, and unattended by pain, showed that my heart was re- 
 covering its susceptibility. 
 
 As I was sitting in this musing mood my eye became gra- 
 dually fixed upon an object that was borne along by the tide. 
 It proved to be a little pimiace, beautifully modelled, and 
 gayly painted and decorated. It was an unusual sight in this 
 neighborhood, which was rather lonely ; indeed, it was rare to 
 see any pleasure-barks in this part of the river. As it drew 
 nearer, I perceived that there was no one on board ; it had 
 apparently drilted from its anchorage. There was not a breath 
 of air ; the little bark came floating along on the glassy stream, 
 wheehng about ^vith the eddies. At length It ran aground, 
 almost at the foot of the rock on which I was seated. I de- 
 scended to the margin of the river, and drawing the bark to 
 shore, admired its light and elegant proportions and the taste 
 with which it was fitted up. The benches were covered with 
 cushions, and its long streamer was of silk. On one of the 
 cusliions lay a lady's glove, of deHcate size and shape, with 
 beautifully tapered fingers. I instantly seized it and thrust it 
 in my bosom; it seemed a match for the fairy footstep that 
 had so fascinated me. 
 
 In a moment aU the romance of my bosom was again in a 
 glow. Here was one of the very incidents of fairy tale ; a bark 
 sent by some invisible power, some good genius, or benevolent 
 fairy, to waft me to some delectable adventure. I recollected 
 somethmg of an enchanted bark, di-awn by white swans, that 
 
MOUNT JOY. 
 
 21 
 
 conveyed a knight down the current of the Rhine, on some 
 enterprise connected with love and beauty. The glove, too, 
 showed that there was a lady fair concerned in the present 
 adventure. It might be a gauntlet of defiance, to dare me to 
 the enterprise. 
 
 ' In the spirit of romance and the whim of the moment, I 
 sprang on board, hoisted the hght sail, and pushed from shore. 
 As if breathed by some presiding power, a light breeze at that 
 moment sprang up, swelled out the sail, and dallied with the 
 silken streamer. For a time I glided along under steep umbra- 
 geous banks, or across deep sequestered bays ; and then stood 
 out over a wide expansion of the river toward a high rocky 
 promontory. It was a lovely evening ; the sun was setting in 
 a congregation of clouds tha.t threw the w^hole heavens in a 
 glow, and were reflected in the river. I delighted myself with 
 all kinds of fantastic fancies, as to what enchanted island, or 
 mystic bower, or necromantic palace, I was to be conveyed by 
 the fairy bark. 
 
 In the revel of my fancy I had not noticed that the gorgeous 
 congregation of clouds which had so much dehghted me was 
 in fact a gathering thunder-gust. I perceived the truth too 
 late. The clouds came hurrying on, darkening as they 
 advanced. The whole face of nature was suddenly changed, 
 and assumed that baleful and hvid tint, predictive of a storm. 
 I tried to gain the shore, but before I could reach it a blast of 
 wind struck the water and lashed it at once into foam. The 
 next moment it overtook the boat. Alas ! I was nothing of a 
 sailor ; and my protecting fairy forsook me in the moment of 
 peril. I endeavored to lower the sail ; but in so doing I had to 
 quit the helm ; the bark was overturned in an instant, and I 
 was thrown into the water. I endeavored to cling to the 
 wreck, but missed my hold; being a poor swimmer, I soon 
 found myself sinking, but grasped a light oar that was floating 
 by me. It was not sufficient for my support; I again sank 
 beneath the surface ; there was a rushing and bubbhng sound 
 m my ears, and all sense forsook me. 
 
 How long I remained insensible, I know not. I had a con- 
 fused notion of being moved and tossed about, and of hearing 
 strange beings and strange voices around me ; but all was hke 
 a hideous dream. When I at length recovered full conscious- 
 ness and perception, I found myself in bed in a spacious cham- 
 
22 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 ber, furnished with more taste than I had been accustomed to. 
 The bright rays of a morning sun were intercepted by curtains 
 of a dehcate rose color, that gave a soft, voluptu(^us tinge to 
 every object. Not far from my bed, on a classic tripod, was a 
 basket of beautiful exotic flowers, breathing the sweetest fra- 
 grance. 
 
 ' ' Where am I ? How came I here ?" 
 
 I tasked my mind to catch at some previous event, from 
 which I might trace up the thread of existence to the present 
 moment. By degrees I called to mind the fairy pinnace, my 
 daring embarkation, my adventurous voyage, and my disas- 
 trous shipwreck. Beyond that, all was chaos. How came I 
 here? What unknown region had I landed upon? The people 
 that inhabited it must be gentle and amiable, and of elegant 
 tastes, for they loved downy beds, fragrant flowers, and rose- 
 colored curtains. 
 
 While I lay thus musing, the tones of a harp reached my ear. 
 Presently they were accompanied by a female voice. It came 
 from the room below; but in the profound stillness of my 
 chamber not a modulation was lost. My sisters were aU con- 
 sidered good musicians, and sang very tolerably ; but I had 
 never heard a voice like this. There was no attempt at diffi- 
 cult execution, or striking effect; but there were exquisite 
 inflections, and tender turns, which art could not reach. 
 Nothing but feeling and sentiment could produce them. It 
 was soul breathed forth in sound. I was always alive to the 
 influence of music; indeed, I was susceptible of voluptuous 
 influences of every kind— sounds, colors, shapes, and fra- 
 grant odors. I was the very slave of sensation. 
 
 I lay mute and breathless, and drank in every note of this 
 siren strain. It thrilled through my whole .frame, and filled 
 my soul with melody and love. I pictured to myself, with 
 curious logic, the form of the unseen musician. Such melodi- 
 ous sounds and exquisite inflections could only be produced by 
 organs of the most dehcate flexibility. Such organs do not 
 belong to coarse, viflgar forms; they are the harmonious 
 results of fair proportions and admirable symmetry. A being 
 so organized must be lovely. 
 
 Again my busy imagination was at work. I called to 
 mind the Arabian story of a prince, borne away during sleep 
 by a good genius, to the distant abode of a princess of rav- 
 ishing beauty. I do not pretend to say that I believed in hav- 
 ing experienced a similar transportation ; but it was my invet- 
 
MOUNT JOT. 
 
 23 
 
 crate habit to cheat myself with fancies of the kind, and to 
 give the tinge of illusion to surrounding realities. 
 
 The witching sound had ceased, but its vibrations still played 
 round my heart, and filled it with a tumult of soft emotions. 
 At this moment, a self-upbraiding pang shot through my 
 bosom. "Ah, recreant!" a voice seemed to exclaim, "is this 
 the stability of thine affections? What ! hast thou so soon foi-- 
 gotten the nymph of the fountain? Has one song, idly piped 
 in thine ear, been sufficient to charm away the cherished ten- 
 derness of a whole summer?" 
 
 The wise may smile —but I am in a confiding mood, and must 
 confess my weakness. I felt a degree of compunction at this 
 sudden infidehty, yet I could not resist the power of present 
 fascination. My peace of mind was destroyed by conflicting 
 claims. The nymph of the fountain came over my memory, 
 with all the associations of fairy footsteps, shady groves, soft 
 echoes, and wild streamlets; but this new passion was pro- 
 duced by a strain of soul-subduing melody, still lingering in my 
 ear, aided by a downy bed, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored 
 curtains. " Unhappy youth !" sighed I to myself, "distracted 
 by such rival passions, and the empire of thy heart thus vio- 
 lently contested by the sound of a voice, and the print of a 
 footstep !" 
 
 I had not remained long in this mood, when I heard the door 
 
 of the room gently opened. I turned my head to see what 
 inhabitant of this enchanted palace should appear; whether 
 page in green, hideous dwarf, or haggard fairy. It was my 
 own man Scipio. He advanced with cautious step, and was 
 delighted, as he said, to find me so much myself again. My 
 first questions were as to where I was and how I came there? 
 Scipio told me a long story of his having been fishing in a 
 canoe at the time of my hare-brained cruise ; of his noticing 
 the gathering squall, and my impending danger; of his has- 
 tening to join me, but arriving just in time to snatch me from 
 a watery grave ; of the great difficulty in restoring me to ani- 
 mation : and of my being subsequently conveyed, in a state of 
 insensibility, to this mansion. 
 
 "But where am I?" was the reiterated demand. 
 
 " In the house of Mr. Somerville." 
 
 " Somerville— Somerville !" I recollected to have heard that 
 a gentleman of that name had recently taken up his residence 
 
24 
 
 THE CllATON PAPEES. 
 
 at some distance from my father's abode, on the opposite side 
 of the Hudson. He was commonly known by the name of 
 " French Somerville," from having passed part of his early life 
 in France, and from his exhibiting traces of French taste in 
 his mode of living, and the arrangements of his house,. In 
 fact, it was in his pleasure-boat, which had got adrift, that I 
 had made my fanciful and disastrous cruise. All this was sim- 
 ple, straightforward matter of fact, and threatened to demolish 
 all the cobweb romance I had been spinning, when fortunately 
 I again heard the tinkling of a harp. I raised myself in bed, 
 and listened. 
 
 "Scipio," said I, with some little hesitation, "I heard some 
 one singing just now. Who was it?" 
 
 " Oh, that was Miss Julia." 
 Julia! Juha! Delightful ! what a name ! And, Scipio — is 
 she— is she pretty ?" 
 
 Scipio grinned from ear to ear. ''Except Miss Sophy, she 
 was the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen. " 
 
 I should observe, that my sister Sophia was considered by 
 all the servants a paragon of perfection. 
 
 Scipio now offered to remove the basket of flowers ; he was 
 afraid their odor might be too powerful; but Miss Juha had 
 given them that morning to be placed in my room. 
 
 These flowers, then, had been gathered by the fairy fingers 
 of my unseen beauty ; that sweet breath which had filled my 
 ear with melody had passed over them. I made Scipio hand 
 them to me, culled several of the most delicate, and laid them 
 on my bosom. 
 
 Mr. Somerville paid me a visit not long afterward. He was 
 an interesting study for me, for he was the father of my imseen 
 beauty, and probably resembled her. I scanned him closely. 
 He was a tall and elegant man, ^vith. an open, affable manner, 
 and an erect and graceful carriage. His eyes were bluish-gray, 
 and though not dark, yet at times were sparkling and expres- 
 sive. His hair was dressed and powdered, and being lightly 
 combed up from his forehead, added to the loftiness of his 
 aspect. He was fluent in discourse, but his conversation had 
 the quiet tone of polished society, without any of those bold 
 flights of thought, and picturings of fancy, which I so much 
 admired. 
 
 My imagination was a Httle puzzled, at first, to make out of 
 this assemblage of personal and mental qualities, a picture that 
 should harmonize with my previous idea of the fair imseen. 
 
MUUISTJOY. 
 
 25 
 
 By Clint, however, of selecting what it liked, and giving a touch 
 here and a touch there, it soon furnished out a satisfactory 
 portrait. 
 
 "Julia must be tall," thought I, " and of exquisite grace and 
 dignity. She is not quite so courtly as her father, for she has 
 been brought up in the retirement of the country. Neither is 
 she of such vivacious deportment ; for the tones of her voico 
 are soft and plaintive, and she loves pathetic music. She is 
 rather pensive — yet not too pensive ; just what is called inter- 
 esting. Her eyes are hke her father's, except that they are of 
 a purer blue, and more tender and languishing. She has hght 
 hair — not exactly flaxen, for I do not hke flaxen hair, but 
 between that and auburn. In a word, she is a tall, elegant, 
 imposing, langLiishing, blue-eyed, romantic-looking beauty." 
 x^iid having thus finished her picture, I felt ten times more in 
 love with her than ever. 
 
 I felt so much recovered that I would at once have left 
 my room, but Mr. Somerville objected to it. He had sent 
 early word to my family of my safety ; and my father arrived 
 in the course of the morning. He was shocked at learning the 
 risk I had run, but rejoiced to find me so much restored, and 
 was warm in his thanks to Mr. Somerville for his kindness. 
 The other only required, in return, that I might remain two or 
 three days as his guest, to give time for my recovery, and for 
 our forming a closer acqviaintance ; a request which my father 
 readily granted. Scipio accordingly accompanied my father 
 home, and returned with a supply of clothes, and with affec- 
 tionate letters from my mother and sisters. 
 
 The next morning, aided by Scipio, I made my toilet mth 
 rather more care than usual, and descended the stairs with 
 some trepidation, eager to see the original of the portrait which 
 had been so completely pictured in my imagination. 
 
 On entering the parlor, I found it deserted. Like the rest of 
 the house, it was furnished in a foreign style. The curtains 
 were of French silk; there were Grecian couches, marble 
 tables, pier-glasses, and chandeliers. What chiefly attracted 
 my eye, were documents of female taste that I saw around 
 me; a piano, with an ample stock of Italian music: a book of 
 poetry lying on the sofa ; a vase of fresh flowers on a table, and 
 a portf oho open with a skilful and half -finished sketch of them. 
 In the window was a canary bird, in a gilt cage, and near by. 
 
26 
 
 THE CUAYOJS PxiPERS. 
 
 the harp that had been in Julia's arms. Happy harp ! But 
 where was the being that reigned in this little empire of deh- 
 cacies? — that breathed poetry and song, and dwelt among birds 
 and flowers, and rose-colored curtains? 
 
 Suddenly I heard the hall door fly open, the quick pattering 
 of light steps, a wild, capricious strain of music, and the shrill 
 barking of a dog. A light, frolic nymph of fifteen came trip- 
 ping into the room, playing on a flageolet, with a little spaniel 
 romping after her. Her gipsy hat had fallen back upon her 
 shoulders ; a profusion of glossy brown hair was blown in rich 
 ringlets about her face, which beamed through them with the 
 brightness of smiles and dimples. 
 
 At sight of me she stopped short, in the most beautiful con- 
 fusion, stammered out a word or two about looking for her 
 father, glided out of the door, and I heard her bounding up 
 the staircase, like a frighted fawn, with the little dog barking 
 after her. 
 
 When Miss Somerville returned to the parlor, she was quite 
 a different being. She entered, stealing along by her mother's 
 side with noiseless step, and sweet timidity: her hair was 
 prettily adjusted, and a soft blush mantled on her damask 
 cheek. Mr. Somerville accompanied the ladies, and introduced 
 me regularly to them. There were many kind inquiries and 
 much sympathy expressed, on the subject of my nautical acci- 
 dent, and some remarks upon the Tvdld scenery of the neighbor- 
 hood, with wliich the ladies seemed perfectly acquainted. 
 
 " You must know," said Mr. Somerville, " that we are great 
 navigators, and dehght in exploring every nook and corner of 
 the river. My daughter, too, is a great hunter of the pictur- 
 esque, and transfers every rock and glen to her portfolio. By 
 the way, my dear, show Mr. Mountjoy that pretty scene you 
 have lately sketched." Julia complied, blushing, and drew 
 from her portfolio a colored sketch. I almost started at the 
 sight. It was my favorite brook. A sudden thought darted 
 across my mind. I glanced down my eye, and beheld the 
 divinest little foot in the world. Oh, bhssful conviction ! The 
 struggle of my affections was at an end. The voice and the 
 footstep were no longer at variance. Juha Somerville was the 
 nymph of the fountain I 
 
 What conversation passed during breakfast I do not recol- 
 lect, and hardly was conscious of at the time, for my thoughts 
 
MOUNT JOT. 
 
 27 
 
 ■were in complete confusion. I wished to gaze on Miss Somer< 
 ville,but did not dare. Once, indeed, I ventured a glance. She 
 was at that moment darting a similar one from under a covert 
 of ringlets. Our eyes seemed shocked by the rencontre, and 
 fell; hers through the natural modesty of her sex, mine 
 through a bashfulness produced by the previous workings of 
 my imagination. That glance, however, went like a sun-beam 
 to my heart. 
 
 A convenient mirror favored my diffidence, and gave me the 
 reflection of Miss SomerviHe's form. It is true it only present- 
 ed the back of her head, but she had the merit of an ancient 
 statue ; contemplate her from any point of view, she was beau- 
 tiful. And yet she was totally different from everything I had 
 before conceived of beauty. She was not the serene, medita- 
 tive maid that I had pictured the nymph of the fountain ; nor 
 the tall, soft, languishing, blue-eyed, dignified being that I had 
 fancied the minstrel of the harp. There was nothing of dignity 
 about her : she was girlish in her appearance, and scarcely of 
 the middle size ; but then there v/as the tenderness of budding 
 youth ; the sweetness of the half -blown rose, when not a tint 
 or perfume has been withered or exhaled; there were smiles 
 and dimples, and all the soft witcheries of ever- varying expres- 
 sion. I wondered that I could ever have admired any other 
 style of beauty. 
 
 After brealifast, Mr. Somerville departed to attend to the 
 concerns of his estate, and gave me in charge of the ladies. 
 Mrs. Somerville also was called away by household cares, and 
 I was left alone with Juha! Here, then, was the situation 
 which of all others I had most coveted. I was in the presence 
 of the lovely being that had so long been the desire of my 
 heart. We were alone; propitious opportimity for a lover 1 
 Did I seize upon it? Did I break out in one of my accustomed 
 rhapsodies? No such thing 1 Never was being more awk- 
 wardly embarrassed. 
 
 "What can be the cause of this?" thought I. "Surely, I 
 cannot stand in awe of this young girl. I am of course her 
 superior in intellect, and am never embarrassed in company 
 with my tutor, notwithstanding all his wisdom." 
 
 It was passing strange. I felt that if she were an old woman, 
 I should be quite at my ease ; if she were even an ugly woman, 
 I should make out very weU: it was her beauty that over- 
 powered me. How Httle do lovely women know what awful 
 beings they are, in the eyes of inexperienced youth ! Young 
 
28 
 
 THE CRAYOJS' PAPERS. 
 
 men brought up in the fashionable circles of our cities will 
 smile at all this. Accustomed to mingle incessantly in female 
 society, and to have the romance of the heart deadened by a 
 thousand frivolous flirtations, women are nothing but women 
 m their eyes ; but to a susceptible youth like myself, brought 
 up in the country, they are perfect divinities. 
 
 Miss Somerville was at first a little embarrassed herself; but, 
 some how or other, women have a natural adroitness in recov- 
 ering their self-possession ; they are more alert in their minds, 
 and graceful in their manners. Beside, I was but an ordinary 
 personage in Miss Somerville's eyes; she was not under the 
 influence of such a singular course of imaginings as had sur- 
 rounded her, in my eyes, with the illusions of romance. 
 Perhaps, too, she saw the confusion in the opposite camp and 
 gained courage from the discovery. At any rate she was the 
 first to take the field. 
 
 Her conversation, however, was only on common-place 
 topics, and in an easy, well-bred style. I endeavored to re- 
 spond in the same manner ; but I was strangely incompetent 
 to the task. My ideas were frozen up ; even words seemed to 
 fail me. I was excessively vexed at myself, for I wished to be 
 uncommonly elegant. I tried two or three times to turn a 
 pretty thought, or to utter a fine sentiment ; but it would come 
 forth so trite, so forced, so mawkish, that I was ashamed of it. 
 My very voice sounded discordantly, though I sought to modu- 
 late it into the softest tones. "The truth is," thought I to 
 myself, "I cannot bring my mind down to the small talk 
 necessary for young girls ; it is too masculine and robust for 
 the mincing measure of parlor gossip. I am a philosopher — 
 and that accounts for it." 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. Somerville at length gave me rehef. I 
 at once breathed freely, and felt a vast deal of confidence come 
 over me. "This is strange," thought I, "that the appearance 
 of another woman should revive my courage ; that I should be 
 a better match for two women than one. However, since it is 
 so, I will take advantage of the circumstance, and let this 
 young lady see that I am not so great a simpleton as she prob- 
 ably thinks me. " 
 
 I accordingly took up the book of poetry which lay upon the 
 sofa. It was Milton's "Paradise Lost." Nothing could have 
 been more fortunate ; it afforded a fine scope for my favorite 
 vein of grandiloquence. I went largely into a discussion of its 
 merits, or rather an enthusiastic eulogy of them. My observa- 
 
MOV NT JOY. 
 
 29 
 
 tions were addressed to Mrs. Somerville, for I found I coidd 
 talk to her with more ease than to her daughter. She 
 appeared ahve to the beauties of the poet, and disposed to meet 
 me in the discussion; but it was not my object to hear her 
 talk; it was to talk myself. I anticipated all she had to 
 say, overpowered her with the copiousness of my ideas, and 
 supported and illustrated them by long citations from the 
 author. 
 
 While thus holding forth, I cast a side glance to see how 
 Miss Somerville was affected. She had some embroidery 
 stretched on a frame before her, but had paused in her labor, 
 and was looking down as if lost in mute attention. I felt a 
 glow of self-satisfaction, but I recollected, at the same time, 
 with a kind of pique, the advantage she had enjoyed over me 
 in our tete-a-tete. I determined to push my triumph, and ac- 
 cordingly kept on with redoubled ardor, until I had fairly ex- 
 hausted my subject, or rather my thoughts. 
 
 I had scarce come to a full stop, when Miss Somerville 
 raised her eyes from the work on which they had been fixed, 
 and turning to her mother, observed: " I have been consider- 
 ing, mamma, whether to work these flowers plain, or in 
 colors." 
 
 Had an ice-bolt shot to my heart, it could not have chilled 
 me more effectually. "What a fool," thought I, "have I been 
 making myself — squandering away fine thoughts, aod fine lan- 
 guage, upon a hght mind, and an ignorant ear! This girl 
 knows nothing of poetry. She has no soul, I fear, for its 
 beauties. Can any one have real sensibility of heart, and not 
 be alive to poetry? However, she is young; this part of her 
 education has been neglected : there is time enough to remedy 
 it. I will be her preceptor. I will kindle in her mind the 
 sacred flame, and lead her through the fairy land of song. 
 But after aU, it is rather unfortunate that I should have fallen 
 in love ^vith a woman who knows nothing of poetry." 
 
 I passed a day not altogether satisfactoiy. I was a little 
 disappointed that Miss Somerville did not show any poetical 
 feeling. "I am afraid, after all," said I to myself, "she is 
 hght and girlish, and more fitted to pluck wild flowers, play on 
 the flageolet, and romp with httle dogs than to converse with 
 a man of my turn." 
 
 I beUeve, however, to tell the truth, I was more out of 
 
80 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 humor with myself. I thought I had made the worst first 
 appearance that ever hero made, either in novel or fairy tale. 
 I was out of ail patience, when I called to mind my awkward 
 attempts at ease and elegance in the tete-a-tete. And then my 
 intolerable long lecture about poetry to catch the applause of 
 a heedless auditor ! But there I was not to blame. I had cer- 
 tainly been eloquent : it was her fault that the eloquence was 
 wasted. To meditate upon the embroidery of a flower, when I 
 was expatiating on the beauties of Milton ! She might at least 
 have admired the poetry, if she did not rehsh the manner in 
 which it was dehvered : though that was not despicable, for I 
 had recited passages in my best style, which my mother and 
 sisters had always considered equal to a play. "Oh, it is 
 evident," thought I, "Miss Somerville has very httle soul 1" 
 
 Such were my fancies and cogitations during the day, the 
 greater part of which was spent in my chamber, for I was still 
 languid. My evening was x)assed in the drawing-room, where 
 I o\?orlooked Miss Somerville's portfolio of sketches. 
 
 They were executed with great taste, and showed a nice ob- 
 servation of the pecuharities of nature. They were all her own, 
 and free from those cunning tints and touches of the drawing- 
 master, by which young ladies' drawings, hke their heads, are 
 dressed up for company. There was no garnish or vulgar trick 
 of colors, either ; all was executed with singular truth and sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 " And yet," thought I, "this Httle being, who has so pure an 
 eye to take in, as in a hmpid brook, all the graceful fonns and 
 magic tints of nature, has no soul for poetry !" 
 
 Mr. Somerville, toward the latter part of the evening, observ- 
 ing my eye to wander occasionally to the harp, interpreted 
 and met my wishes with his accustomed civihty. 
 
 "Julia, my dear," said he, "Mr. Mount joy would like to hear 
 a Httle music from your harp ; let us hear, too, the sound of 
 your voice." 
 
 Julia immediately complied, without any of that hesitation 
 and difficulty, by which young ladies are apt to make company 
 pay dear for bad music. She sang a sprightly strain, in a bril- 
 Hant style, that came trilling playfully over the ear ; and the 
 bright eye and dimpHng smile showed that her Httle heart 
 danced with the song. Her pet canary bird, who hung close 
 by, was awakened by the music, and burst forth into an emu- 
 lating strain. Julia smiled with a pretty air of defiance, and 
 played louder. 
 
31 
 
 After some time, the music changed, and ran into a plaintive 
 strain, in a minor key. Then it was, that all the former 
 witchery of her voice came over me; then it was that she 
 seemed to sing from the heart and to the heart. Her fingers 
 moved about the chords as if they scarcely touched them. 
 Her whole manner and appearance changed ; her eyes beamed 
 with the softest expression; her countenance, her frame, all 
 seemed subdued into tenderness. She rose from the harp, 
 leaving it still vibrating with sweet soimds, and moved toward 
 her father to bid liim good night. 
 
 His eyes had been fixed on her intently, during her perfor- 
 mance. As she came before him he parted her shining ringlets 
 w^ith both his hands, and looked down with the fondness of a 
 father on her innocent face. The music seemed still lingering 
 in its lineaments, and the action of her father brought a moist 
 gleam in her eye. He kissed her fair forehead, after the 
 French mode of parental caressing: "Good night, and God 
 bless you," said he, "my good little girl!" 
 
 Julia tripped away, with a tear in her eye, a dimple in her 
 cheek, and a hght heart in her bosom. I thought it the pret- 
 tiest picture of paternal and fiihal affection I had ever seen. 
 
 When I retired to bed, a new train of thoughts crowded into 
 my brain. " After all," said I to myself, " it is clear this girl 
 has a soul, though she was not moved by my eloquence. She 
 has aU the outward signs and evidences of poetic feeling. She 
 paints well, and has an eye for nature. She is a fine musician, 
 and enters into the very soul of song. What a pity that she 
 knows nothing of poetry ! But we will see what is to be done. 
 I am irretrievably in love with her; what then am I to do? 
 Come down to the level of her mind, or endeavor to raise her 
 to some kind of intellectual equahty with myself? That is tlie 
 most generous course. She will look up to me as a benefactor. 
 I shall become associated in her mind with the lofty thoughts 
 and harmonious graces of poetry. She is apparently docile: 
 beside, the difference of our ages will give me an ascendancy 
 over her. She cannot be above sixteen years of age, and I am 
 full turned to twenty." So, having built this most delectable 
 of air castles, I fell asleep. 
 
 The next morning I was quite a different being. I no longer 
 felt fearful of stealing a glance at Juha ; on the contrary, I 
 contemplated her steadily, with the benignant eye of a benefac- 
 
32 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 tor. Shortly after breakfast I found myself alone with her, as 
 I had on the preceding morning ; but I felt nothing of the awk- 
 wardness of our previous tete-a-tete, I was elevated by the 
 consciousness of my intellectual superiority, and should almost 
 have felt a sentiment of pity for the ignorance of the lovely 
 little being, if I had not felt also the assurance that I should be 
 able to dispel it. ' ' But it is time, " thought I, "to open school. 
 
 Julia was occupied in arranging some music on her piano. 
 I looked over two or three songs; they were Moore's Irish 
 melodies. 
 
 "These are pretty things!" said I, fhrting the leaves over 
 lightly, and giving a slight shrug, by way of quahfjdng the 
 opinion. 
 
 "Oh, I love them of all things," said Juha, "they're so 
 touching!" 
 
 " Then you like them for the poetry," said I, with an encour- 
 aging smile. 
 
 " Oh yes; she thought them charmingly written." 
 
 Now was my time. " Poetry," said I, assuming a didactic 
 attitude and air, "poetry is one of the most pleasmg studies 
 that can occupy a youthful mind. It renders us susceptible of 
 the gentle impulses of humanity, and cherishes a dehcate per- 
 ception of all that is virtuous and elevated in morals, and 
 graceful and beautiful in physics. It " 
 
 I was going on in a style that would have graced a professor 
 of rhetoric, when I saw a hght smile playing about IVIiss 
 Somervllle's mouth, and that she began to turn over the leaves 
 of a music-book. I recollected her inattention to my discourse 
 of the preceding morning. "There is no fixing her light 
 mind," thought I, " by abstract theory ; we will proceed prac- 
 tically." As it happened, the identical volume of Milton's 
 Paradise Lost was lying at hand. 
 
 ' • Lot me recommend to you, my young friend, said I, in 
 one of those tones of persuasive admonition, which I had so 
 often loved in Glencoe, "let me recommend to you this ad- 
 mirable poem ; you will find in it sources of intellectual enjoy- 
 ment far superior to those songs which have delighted you. 
 Julia looked at the book, and then at me, with a whimsically 
 dubious air. "Milton's Paradise Lost?" said she; "oh, I 
 know the greater part of that by heart. " 
 
 I had not expected to find my pupil so far advanced ; how- 
 ever, the Paradise Lost is a kind of school-book, and its finest 
 passages are given to young ladies as tasks. 
 
MOUNT JOY. 
 
 33 
 
 " I find," said I to myself, " I must not treat her as so com' 
 plete a novice ; her inattention yesterday could not have j)ro- 
 ceeded from absolute ignorance, but merely from a want of 
 poetic feeling. I'll try her again." 
 
 I now determined to dazzle her with my own emdition, and 
 launched into a harangue that would have done honor to an 
 institute. Pope, Spenser, Chaucer, and the old dramatic wri- 
 ters were all dipped into, with the excursive flight of a 
 swallow. I did not confine myself to English poets, but gave 
 a glance at the French and Italian schools; I passed over 
 Ariosto in full wing, but paused on Tasso's Jerusalem De- 
 livered. I dwelt on the character of Clorinda: ''There's a 
 character," said I, "that you wiU find weU worthy a woman's 
 study. It shows to what exalted heights of heroism the sex 
 can rise, how gloriously they may share even in the stem con- 
 cerns of men. " 
 
 "For my part," said Julia, gently taking advantage of a 
 pause, "for my part, I prefer the character of Sophronia." 
 
 I was thunderstruck. She then had read Tasso ! This girl 
 that I had been treating as an ignoramus in poetry ! She pro- 
 ceeded with a shght glow of the cheek, summoned up perhaps 
 by a casual glow of feeHng: 
 
 "I do not admire those masculine heroines, " said she, " who 
 aim at the bold quahties of the opposite sex. Now Soph- 
 ronia only exhibits the real quahties of a woman, wrought 
 up to their highest excitement. She is modest, gentle, and 
 retiring, as it becomes a woman to be; but she has all the 
 strength of affection proper to a woman. She cannot fight for 
 her people as Clorinda does, but she can offer herself up, and 
 die to serve them. You may admire Clorinda, but you surely 
 would be more apt to love Sophronia; at least," added she, 
 suddenly appearing to recollect herself, and blushing at having 
 launched into such a discussion, "at least that is what papa 
 observed when we read the poem together." 
 
 " Indeed, "said I, dryly, for I felt disconcerted and nettled at 
 being unexpectedly lectured by my pupil; "indeed, I do not 
 exactly recollect the passage. " 
 
 "Oh," said Juha, "I can repeat it to you;" and she im- 
 mediately gave it in Italian. 
 
 Heavens and earth I — here was a situation ! I knew no more 
 of Itahan than I did of the language of Psahnanazar. What a 
 dilemma for a would-be- wise man to be placed in! I saw 
 Juha waited for my opinion. 
 
^4 
 
 THE CIlAYOjy PAPERS. 
 
 ''In fact," said I, hesitating, "I— I do not exactly under- 
 stand Italian. " 
 
 " Oh," said JuUa, with the utmost naivete, "I have no doubt 
 it is very beautiful in the translation." 
 
 I was glad to break up school, and get back to my chamber, 
 full of the mortification which a wise man in love experiences 
 on finding his mistress wiser than himself. "Translation! 
 translation!" muttered I to myself , as I jerked the door shut 
 behind me: " I am surprised my father has never had me in- 
 structed in the modern languages. They are all-important. 
 What is the use of Latin and Greek? No one speaks them; 
 but here, i^he moment I make my appearance in the world, a 
 httle girl slaps Itahan in my face. However, thank heaven, a 
 language is easily learned. The moment I return home, I'll 
 set about studying Itahan ; and to prevent future surprise, I 
 will study Spanish and German at the same time ; and if any 
 young lady attempts to quote Itahan upon me again, I'll bury 
 her under a heap of High Dutch poetry !" 
 
 I felt now like some mighty chieftain, who has carried the 
 war into a weak country, with full confidence of success, and 
 been repulsed and obliged to draw off his forces from before 
 some inconsiderable fortress. 
 
 "However," thought I, "I have as yet brought only my 
 light artiUery into action ; we shall see what is to be done mth 
 my heavy ordnance. Juha is evidently well versed in poetry ; 
 but it is natural she should be so ; it is aUied to painting and 
 music, and is congenial to the hght graces of the female char- 
 acter. We will try her on graver themes." 
 
 I felt all my pride awakened; it even for a time swelled 
 higher than -mj loA^e. I was determined completely to estab- 
 lish my mental superiority, and subdue the intellect of this 
 little being; it would then be time to sway the sceptre of 
 gentle empire, and win the affections of her heart. 
 
 Accordingly, at dinner I again took the field, enpotence. I 
 now addressed myself to Mr. Somer^dlle, for I was about to 
 enter upon topics in which a young girl like her could not be 
 well versed. I led, or rather forced, the conversation into a 
 vein of historical erudition, discussing several of the most 
 prominent facts of ancient history, and accompanying them 
 with sound, indisputable apothegms. 
 
 Mr. Somer^'ille hstened to me with the air of a man re 
 
MOUNTJOY. 
 
 35 
 
 ceiving information. I was encouraged, and went on glori- 
 ously from theme to theme of school declamation. I sat with 
 Marius on the ruins of Carthage ; I defended the biidge with 
 Horatius Codes; thrust my hand into the flame with Martins 
 SccGvola, and plunged with Curtius into the yawning gulf; 1 
 fought side by side with Leonidas, at the straits of Thermo- 
 pylae ; and was going full drive into the battle of Platsea, when 
 my memory, which is the vvorst in the world, failed mc, just 
 as I wanted the name of the Lacedemonian commander. 
 
 "Julia, my dear," said Mr. Somerville. "perhaps you may 
 recollect the name of which Mr. Mount joy is in quest?" 
 
 Julia colored slightly. "I believe," said she, in a low voice, 
 "I believe it was Pausanias." 
 
 This unexpected sally, instead of reinforcing me, tlu?ew my 
 whole scheme of battle into confusion, and the Athenians re- 
 mained unmolested in the field. 
 
 I am half incKned, since, to think Mr. Somerville meant this 
 as a sly hit at my schoolboy pedantry ; but he was too well 
 bred not to seek to relieve me from my mortification. ' ' Oh !" 
 said he, "Julia is our family book of reference for names, 
 dates, and distances, and has an excellent memory for history 
 and geography." 
 
 I now became desperate ; as a last resource I turned to meta- 
 physics. "If she is a philosopher in petticoats," thought I, 
 "it is all over with me." Here, nowever, I had the field to 
 myself. I gave chapter and verse of my tutor's lectures, 
 heightened by all his poetical illustrations ; I even went further 
 than he had ever ventured, and. plunged into such depths of 
 metaphysics, that I was in danger of sticking in the mire at 
 the bottom. Fortunately, I had auditors who apparently 
 could not detect my flounderings. Neither Mr. Somerville nor 
 liis daughter offered the least interruption. 
 
 Yv^hen the ladies had retired, Mr, Somerville sat some time 
 with me ; and as I was no longer anxious to astonish, I per- 
 mitted myself to hsten, and found that he was really agreeable. 
 He was quite conmiunicative, and from his conversation I was 
 enabled to form a juster idea of his daughter's character, and 
 the mode in which she had been brought up. Mr. Somerville 
 had mingled much with the world, and with what is termed 
 fashionable society. He had experienced its cold elegancies 
 and gay liismcerities ; its dissipation of the spirits and squan- 
 derii.gs of "die heart. Like many men of the world, though he 
 had wandered too far from nature ever to return to it. yet he 
 
36 
 
 THE CRATOy iwrKus. 
 
 had the good taste and good feeling to look back fondly to its 
 simple delights, and to determine that liis child, if possible, 
 should never leave them. He had superintended her education 
 with scrupulous care, storing her mind with the graces of 
 pohte hterature, and with such knowledge as would enable it 
 to furnish its own amusement and occupation, and giving her 
 all the accomplishments that sweeten and enhven the circle of 
 domestic hfe. He had been particularly sedulous to exclude 
 all fashionable affectations; all false sentunent, false sensi- 
 bility, and false romance. "Whatever advantages she mriy 
 possess," said he, "she is quite unconscious of them. She i) 
 a capricious httle being, in everything but her affections ; sLo 
 is, however, free from art; simple, ingenuous, amiable, and, I 
 thank God ! happy. " 
 
 Such was the eulogy of a fond father, delivered with a ten- 
 derness that touched me. I could not help making a casual 
 inqmry, whether, among the graces of polite literature, he had 
 included a shght tincture of metaphysics. Ho smiled, and told 
 me he had not. 
 
 On the whole, when, as usual, that night, I summed up the 
 day's observations on my pillow, I was not altogether dissatis- 
 fied. "Miss Somerville," said I, "loves poetry, and I like her 
 the better for it. She has the advantage of me in Itahan; 
 agreed ; what is it to know a variety of languages, but merely 
 to have a variety of sounds to express the same idea? Origuial 
 thought is the ore of the mind ; language is but the accidental 
 stamp and coinage by which it is put into circulation. If I 
 can furnish an original idea, what care I how many languages 
 she can translate it into? She may be able also to quote 
 names, and dates, and latitudes better than I ; but that is a 
 mere effort of the memory. I admit she is more accurate in 
 history and geography than I ; but then she knows nothing 
 of metaphysics. " 
 
 I had now sufficiently recovered to return home ; yet I could 
 not think of leaving Mr. Somerville' s without having a little 
 further conversation with him on the subject of his daughter's 
 education. 
 
 " Tliis Mr. Somerville," thought I, is a very accomphshed, 
 elegant man ; he has seen a good deal of the world, and, upon 
 the whole, has profited by what he has seen. He is not with- 
 out information, and, as far as he thinks, appears to think 
 correctly; but after all, he is rather superficial, and does 
 not think profoundly. He seenis t<i t.??^:e no delight in thoRC 
 
MOm'TJOY. 
 
 metaphysical abstractions that are the proper alunent of mas- 
 cuhne minds." I called to mind various occasions in which I 
 had indvilged largely in metaphysical discussions, but could 
 recollect no instance where I had been able to draw him out. 
 He had hstened, itis true, with attention, and smiled as if in 
 acquiescence, but had always appeared to avoid reply. Be- 
 side, I had made several sad blunders in the glow of eloquent 
 declamation ; but he had never interrupted me, to notice and 
 correct them, as he would have done had he been versed in 
 the theme. 
 
 "Now, it is really a great pity," resumed I, "that he should 
 have the entire management of Miss Somerville's education. 
 What a vast advantage it would be, if she could be put for a 
 httle tmie under the superintendence of Glcncoe. He^would 
 throw some deeper shades of thought into her mind, which at 
 present is all sunshine ; not but that Mr. Somerville has done 
 very well, as far as he has gone ; but then he has merely pre- 
 pared the soil for the strong plants of useful knowledge. She 
 is well versed in the leading facts of history, and the general 
 course of belles-lettres," said I; "a Httle more philosophy 
 would do wonders." 
 
 I accordingly took occasion to ask Mr. Somerville for a few 
 moments' conversation in his study, the morning I was to 
 depart. When we were alone I opened the matter fully to 
 him. I commenced with the warmest eulogium of Glencoe's 
 powers of mind, and vast acquirements, and ascribed to him 
 all my proficiency in the higher branches of knowledge. I 
 begged, therefore, to recommend him as a friend calculated to 
 direct the studies of Miss Somerville; to lead her mind, by 
 degrees, to the contemplation of abstract principles, and to 
 produce habits of philosophical analj^sis; "which," added I, 
 gently smiling, "are not often cultivated by young ladies." I 
 ventured to hint, in addition, that he would find Mr. Glencoe 
 1 most valuable and interesting acquaintance for himself ; one 
 who would stimulate and evolve the powers of his mind; and 
 who might open to him tracts of inquiry and speculation, to 
 wliich perhaps he had hitherto been a stranger. 
 
 Mr. Somerville listened with grave attention. When I had 
 finished, he thanked me in the politest manner for the interest 
 I took in the welfare of his daughter and himself. He ob- 
 served that, as regarded himself, he was afraid he was too old 
 to benefit by the instruction of Mr. Glencoe, and that as to his 
 daughter, he was afraid her mmd was but little fitted for the 
 
38 
 
 TUE CRATOX PAPERS. 
 
 study of metaphysics. "I do not wish," continued he, **to 
 strain her intellects with subjects they cannot grasp, but to 
 make her famiharly acquainted with those that are witliin the 
 limits of her capacity. I do not pretend to prescribe the 
 boundaries of female genius, and am far from indulgmg the 
 \nilgar opinion, that women are unfitted by nature for the 
 highest intellectual pursuits. I speak only with reference to 
 my daughter's tastes and talents. She will never make a 
 learned woman ; nor, in truth, do I desire it ; for such is the 
 jealousy of our sex, as to mental as well as physical ascend- 
 ancy, that a learned woman is not always the happiest. I do 
 not wish my daughter to excite envy, or to battle with the 
 prejudices of the world ; but to glide peaceably through Life, 
 on the » good will and kind opinions of her friends. She has 
 ample employment for her little head, in the course I have 
 marked out for her ; and is busy at present with some branches 
 of natm-al history, calculated to awaken her perceptions to the 
 beauties and wonders of nature, and to the inexhaustible vol- 
 ume of wisdom constantly spread open before her eyes. I 
 consider that woman most likely to make an agreeable com- 
 panion, who can draw topics of pleasing remark from every 
 natural object ; and most likely to be cheerful and contented, 
 Tt ho is continually sensible of the order, the harmony, and the 
 invariable beneficence, that reign throughout the beautiful 
 world we inhabit." 
 
 "But," added he, smiling, "I am betraying myself into a 
 lecture, instead of merely giving a reply to your kind offer. 
 Permit me to take the hbert}', in return, of inquiring a little 
 about your own pursuits. You speak of having finished your 
 education ; but of course you have a line of private study and 
 mental occupation marked out; for you must know the impor- 
 tance, both in point of interest and happiness, of keeping the 
 mind employed. May 1 ask what system you observe in your 
 intellectual exercises?" 
 
 " Oh, as to system," I observed. " I could never bring mys^df 
 into anything of the kind. I thought it best to let my genius 
 take its own course, as it always acted the most vigorously 
 when stimulated by inclination." 
 
 Mr. Somorville shook his head. "This same genius," said 
 he, " is a wild quality, that runs away with our most promis- 
 ing young men. It has become so much the taHliion, too, to 
 give it the reins, that it is now thought an annual of too noble 
 and generous a nature to be brought to harness. But it is all 
 
MOUNTJOT. 
 
 39 
 
 a mistake. Nature never designed these high ondoAvments to 
 run riot through society, and throw the whole system into 
 confusion. No, my dear sir, genius, unless it acts upon sys- 
 tem, is very apt to be a useless quality to society ; sometimes 
 an injurious, and certainly a very uncomfortable one, to its 
 possessor. I have had many oppoiiunitics of seeing the pro- 
 gress through life of young men who vv^ere accounted geniuses, 
 and have found it too often end in early exhaustion and bitter 
 disappointment; and have as often noticed that these effects 
 might be traced to a total want of system. There were no 
 habits of business, of steady imrpose, and regular application, 
 superinduced upon the mind; everything was left to chance 
 and impulse, and native luxuriance, and everything of course 
 ran to Avaste and wild entanglement. Excuse me if I am 
 tedious on this point, for I feel solicitous to impress it upon 
 you, being an error extremely prevalent in our country and 
 one into which too many of our youth have fallen. I am 
 happy, however, to observe the zeal which still appears to 
 actuate you for the acquisition of knowledge, and augur every 
 good from the elevated bent of your ambition. May I ask 
 what has been yovtr course of study for the last six months?" 
 
 Never was question more unluckily timed. J'or the last six 
 months I had been absolutely buried in novels and romances. 
 
 Mr. Somerville perceived that the question was embarrass- 
 ing, and with his invariable good breeding, immediately re- 
 sumed the conversation, without waiting for a reply. He took 
 care, however, to turn it in such a way as to draw from me an 
 account of the whole manner in which I had been educated, 
 and the various currents of reading into which my mind had 
 run. He then went on to discuss, briefly but impressively, 
 the different branches of knowledge most important to a 
 young man in my situation ; and to my surprise I found him 
 a complete master of those studies on Avhich I had supposed 
 him ignorant, and on which I had been descanting so confi- 
 dently. 
 
 He complimented me, however, very gi'acioLisly, upon the 
 progi'ess I had made, but advised me for the present to turn 
 my nttention to the physical rather than the moral sciences. 
 '"These studies," said he, "store a man's mind with valuable 
 facts, and at the same time repress self-confidence, by letting 
 liim know how boundless are the realms of knowledge, and 
 how little we can possibly know. Whereas metaphysical stu- 
 dies, though of an ingenious order of intellectual employment, 
 
40 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 are apt to bewilder some minds with vague speculations. Tliey 
 never know how far they have advanced, or what may be the 
 correctness of their favorite theory. They render many of our 
 young men verbose and declamatory, and prone to mistake 
 the aberrations of their fancy for the inspirations of divine 
 philosophy." 
 
 I could not but interrupt him, to assent to the truth of these 
 remarks, and to say that it had been my lot, in the course of 
 my limited experience, to encounter young men of the kind, 
 who had overwhehned me by their verbosity. 
 
 Mr. Somerville smiled. "I trust," said he, kindly, ''that 
 you will guard against these errors. Avoid the eagerness with 
 which a young man is apt to hurry into conversation, and to 
 utter the crude and ill-digested notions which he has picked up 
 in his recent studies. Be assured that extensive and accurate 
 knowledge is the slow acquisition of a studious lifetime ; that a 
 young man, however pregnant his wit, and prompt his talent, 
 can have mastered but the rudiments of learning, and, in a 
 manner, attained the implements of study. Whatever may 
 have been your past assiduity, you must be sensible that as 
 yet you have but reached the threshold of true knowledge ; but 
 at the same time, you have the advantage that you are still 
 very young, and have ample time to learn." 
 
 Here our conference ended. I walked out of the study, a very 
 different being from what I was on entering it. I had gone in 
 with the air of a professor about to deliver a lecture; I came 
 out like a student who had failed in his examination, and been 
 degi^aded in his class. 
 
 " Very young," and "on the threshold of knowledge" ! This 
 was extremely flattering, to one who had considered himself 
 an accomplished scholar, and profound philosopher. 
 
 ''It is singular," thought I; "there seems to have been a 
 spell upon my faculties, ever since I have been in this house. 
 I certainly have not been able to do myself justice. Whenever 
 I have undertaken to advise, I have had the ta 1 .'Ics turned upon 
 me. It must be that I am strange and diflidcnt among people 
 I am not accustomed to. I wish they could hear me talk at 
 home!" 
 
 "After all," added I, on further reflection, "after all, there 
 is a grea,t deal of force in wha.t Mr. Somer^dlle has said. Some- 
 how or other, these men of the world do now and then hit 
 upon remarks that would do credit to a philosopher. Some of 
 his general observations came so home, that I almost thought 
 
THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 
 41 
 
 they were meant for myself. His advice about adopting a 
 system of study is very judicious. I will immediately put it 
 in practice. My mind shall operate henceforward with the 
 regularity of clock-work." 
 
 How far 1 succeeded in adopting this plan, how 1 fared in 
 the further i:)ursuit of knowledge, and how I succeeded in my 
 riiit to Julia Somerville, may afford matter for a further com- 
 p.uinication to tlie public, if this simple record of my early life 
 is fortunate enough to excite any curiosity. 
 
 THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 *'a time of unexampled prosperity." 
 
 In the course of a voyage from England, I once fell in with 
 a convoy of merchant ships bound for the West Indies. The 
 weather was uncommonly bland ; and the ships vied with each 
 other in spreading sail to catch a light, favoring breeze, until 
 their hulls were almost hidden beneath a cloud of canvas. 
 The breeze went down with the sun, and his last yeUow rays 
 shone upon a thousand sails, idly flapping against the masts. 
 
 I exulted in the beauty of the scene, and augured a pros- 
 perous voyage ; but the veteran master of the ship shook his 
 head, and pronounced this halcyon calm a " weather-breeder." 
 And so it proved. A storm burst forth in the night; the sea 
 roared and raged; and when the day broke, I beheld the late 
 gallant convoy scattered in every direction; some dismasted, 
 others scudding under bare poles, and many firing signals of 
 distress. 
 
 I have since been occasionally reminded of this scene, by 
 those calm, sunny seasons in the commercial world, which arc 
 known by th. name of "times of unexampled prosperity." 
 They are the sure weather-breeders of traffic. Every now and 
 then the world is visited by one of these dehisive seasons, when 
 " the credit system," as it is called, expands to full luxuriance, 
 everybody trusts everybody; a bad debt is a thing unheard of 
 the broad way to certain and sudden wealth lies plain and 
 open; and men are tempted to dash forward boldly, from the 
 facility of borrowing. 
 
 Promissory notes, interchanged between scheming indl- 
 
42 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 viduals, are liberally discounted at the banks, "which become 
 so many mints to coin words into cash ; and as the supply of 
 words is inexhaustible, it may readily be supposed what a vast 
 amoimt of promissory capital is soon in circulation. Every one 
 now talks in thousands ; nothing is heard but gigantic opera- 
 tions in trade ; great purchases and sales of real property, and 
 immense sums made at every transfer. All, to be sure, as yet 
 exists in promise ; but the believer in promises calculates the 
 aggregate as soUd capital, and falls back in amazement at the 
 amount of public wealth, the "unexampled state of public 
 prosperity." 
 
 Now is the time for speculative and dreaming or designing 
 men. They relate their dreams and projects to the ignorant 
 and credulous, dazzle them with golden visions, and set them 
 madding after shadows. The example of one stimulates 
 another; speculation rises on speculation; bubble rises on 
 bubble; every one helps with his breath to swell the windy 
 superstructure, and admires and wonders at the magnitude of 
 the inflation he has contributed to produce. 
 
 Speculation is the romance of trade, and casts contempt upon 
 all its sober realities. It renders the stock-jobber a magician, 
 and the exchange a region of enchantment. It elevates the 
 merchant into a kind of knight-errant, or rather a commercial 
 Quixote. The slow but sure gains of snug percentage become 
 despicable in his eyes; no "operation" is thought worthy of 
 attention, that does not double or treble the investment. No 
 business is worth following, that does not promise an imme- 
 diate fortune. As he sits musing over his ledger, with pen 
 behind his ear, he is lilie La Mancha's hero in his study, 
 dreaming over his books of chivalry. His dusty counting- 
 house fades before his eyes, or changes into a Spanish mine , 
 he gropes after diamonds, or dives after pearls. The subter- 
 ranean garden of Aladdin is nothing to the reahns of vv'ealth 
 ill at break upon his imagination. 
 
 Could this delusion always last, the Hfe of a merchant would 
 indeed be a golden dream ; but it is as short as it is brilhant. 
 Let but a doubt enter, and the "season of unexampled pros- 
 perity " is at end. The coinage of words is suddenly curtailed ; 
 the promissory capital begins to vanish into smoke ; a panic 
 succeeds, and the whole superstructure, built upon credit, 
 and reared by speculation, crumbles to the ground, leaving 
 scarce a wreck behind: 
 
 " It is such stuff as dreams ai-e made of." 
 
THE GUI': AT MTSSISSIPPf BUBBLE. 
 
 48 
 
 Whon a iTian of business, therefore, lioars on every side 
 nunors of fortunes suddenly acquired; when he finds banks 
 liberal, and brokers busy ; Avhen he sees adventurers flush ct 
 paper capital, and full of scheme and enterprise ; when he per- 
 ceives a greater disposition to buy than to sell ; when trade 
 overflows its accustomed channels and deluges the country; 
 when he hears of new regions of commercial adventure; o): 
 distant marts and distant mines, swallowing merchandise and 
 disgorging gold; when he finds joint stock companies of all 
 Icinds forming; railroads, canals, and locomotive engines, 
 •springing up on every side; when idlers suddenly become men 
 of business, and dash into the game of commerce as they would 
 into the hazards of the faro table ; v/hen he beholds the streets 
 ghttering with new equipages, palaces conjured up by the 
 magic of speculation ; tradesmen flushed with sudden success, 
 and vying with, each other in ostentatious expense ; in a word, 
 when he hears the whole community joining in the theme of 
 "unexampled prosperity," let him look upon the whole as a 
 "weather-breeder," and prepare for the impending stomi. 
 
 The foregomg remarks are intended merely as a prelude to 
 a narrative I am about to lay before the pubhc, of one of the 
 most memorable instances of the infatuation of gain, to be 
 found in the whole history of commerce. I allude to the 
 famous Mississippi bubble. It is a matter that has passed into 
 a proverb, and become ct phrase in eveiy one's mouth, yet of 
 which not one merchant in ten has probably a distinct idea. 
 I have therefore thought that an authentic account of it would 
 be interesting and salutary, at the present moment, v^hen we 
 are suffering under the effects of a severe access of the credit 
 system, and just recovering from one of its ruinous delusions. 
 
 Before entering into the story of this famous chimera, it is 
 proper to give a few particulars concerning the individual who 
 engendered it. John Law was born in Edinburgh in 1671. 
 His father, WiUiam Law, was a rich goldsmith, and left his 
 son an estate of considerable value, called Lauriston, situated 
 about four miles from Edinburgh. Goldsmiths, in those days, 
 acted occasionally as bankers, and his father's operations, 
 under tliis character, may have originally turned the thoughts 
 of the youth to the science of calculation, in wiiich he became 
 an adept ; so that at an early age he excelled in playing at all 
 games of combination. 
 
44 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 In 1694 he appeared in London, where a handsome perso^ 
 and an easy and insinuating address, gained him currency in 
 the first circles, and the nick-name of "Beau Law." The same 
 personal advantages gave him success in the world of gal- 
 lantry, until he became involved in a quarrel with Beau 
 "Wilson, his rival in fashion, whom he killed in a duel, and 
 then fled to France, to avoid prosecution. 
 
 He returned to Edinburgh in 1700, and remained there seve- 
 ral years ; during which time he first broached his great credit 
 system, offering to supply the deficiency of coin by the estab- 
 Hshment of a bank, wliich, according to his views, might emit 
 a paper currency, equivalent to the whole landed estate of the 
 kingdom. 
 
 His scheme excited gi-eat astonishment in Edinburgh ; but, 
 though the government was not sufficiently advanced in finan- 
 cial knowledge to detect the fallacies upon which it was 
 foimded, Scottish caution and suspicion served in the place 
 of Avisdom, and the projeci: v\-as rejected. Law met with no 
 better success with the English Parliament ; and the fatal affair 
 of the death of Wilson still hangin;^ over him, for which he 
 had never been able to procure a pardon, he again went to 
 France. 
 
 The financial affaii'S of France were at this time in a deplor- 
 able condition. The wars, the pomp and profusion, of Louis 
 XIV., and his religious persecutions of whole classes of the 
 most industrious of his subjects, had exhausted his treasury, 
 and overwhelmed the nation with debt. The old monarch 
 clung to his selfish magnificence, and coidd not be induced to 
 diminish his enormous expenditure ; and his minister of finance 
 was driven to his wits' end to devise all kinds of disastrous 
 expedients to keep up the royal state, and to extricate the 
 nation from its embarrassments. 
 
 In this state of things. Law ventured to bring forward his 
 financial project. It was founded on the plan of the Bank 
 of England, which had already been in successfid operation 
 several years. He met with inmiediate patronage, and a con- 
 genial spirit, in the Duke of Orleans, who had married a 
 natural daughter of the king. The duke had been astonished 
 at the facihty with which England had supported the burden 
 of a public debt, created by the wars of Anne and WiUiam, 
 and which exceeded in amount that under which France was 
 groaning. The whole matter was soon explained by Law to 
 his satisfaction. The latter maintained that England had 
 
THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 
 45 
 
 stopped at the mere threshold of an art capable of creating 
 unlimited sources of national wealth. The duke was dazzled 
 with Ms splendid views and specious reasonings, and thought 
 he clearly comprehended his system. Demarets, the Comp- 
 troller General of Finance, was not so easily deceived. He 
 pronounced the plan of Law more pernicious than any of the 
 disastrous expedients that the government had yet been driven 
 to. The old king also, Louis XIV., detested all innovations, 
 especially those which came from a rival nation ; the project 
 of a bank, therefore, was utterly rejected. 
 
 Law remamed for a while in Paris, leading a gay and affluent 
 existence, owing to his handsome person, easy manners, flexi- 
 ble temper, and a faro-bank w^hich he had set up. His agree- 
 able career was interrupted by a message from D'Argenson, 
 Lieutenant General of Police, ordeiing him to quit Paris, 
 alleging that he was ' ' rather too skilful at the game tchich he 
 had introduced.^'' 
 
 For several succeeding years he shifted his residence from 
 state to state of Italy and Germany ; offering his scheme of 
 finance to every court that he visited, but without success, 
 riie Duke of Savoy, Victor Amadous, afterward King of Sar- 
 dinia, was much struck with his i3roject ; but after considering 
 it for a time, replied, "Ja?ri not sufficiently powerful to ruin 
 myself. " 
 
 The shxifting, adventurous life of Law, and the equivocal 
 means by which he appeared to live, playing high, and always 
 with great success, threw a cloud of suspicion over him, wher- 
 ever he went, and caused him to be expelled by the magistracy 
 from the semi-commercial, semi-aristocratical cities of Venice 
 and Genoa. 
 
 The events of 1715 brought Law back again to Paris. Louis 
 XIV. was dead. Louis XV. was a mere child, and during his 
 minority the Duke of Orleans held the reigns of government as 
 ■Regent. Law had at length found his man. 
 
 The Duke of Orleans has been differently represented by 
 different contemporaries. He appears to have had excellent 
 natural qualities, perverted by a bad education. He was of 
 the middle size, easy and grace Pul, with an agreeable counte- 
 nance, and open, affable demeanor. His mind was quick i'liA 
 sagacious, rather than profound; and his quickness of intel- 
 lect, and excellence of memory, supplied the lack of studious 
 application. His wit was prompt and pungent ; he expressed 
 himself with vivacity and precision his imagination was vi\id, 
 
46 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 his temperament sanguine and joyous; his courage daring. 
 His mother, the Duchess of Orleans, expressed his character in 
 a jeu d'esprit. "The fairies," said she, "were invited to be 
 present at his birth, and each one conferred a talent on my 
 son ; he i^ossesses them all. Unfortunately, we had forgotten 
 to invite an old fairy, who, arriving after all the others, ex- 
 claimed, ' He shaD have all the talents, excepting tliat to make 
 a good use of them.' " 
 
 Under proper tuition, the Duke might have risen to real 
 greatness ; but in his early years, he was put under the tute- 
 lage of the Abbe Dubois, one of the subtlest and basest spirits 
 that ever intrigued its way into eminent place and power. 
 The Abbe was of low origin, and despicable exterior, totally 
 destitute of morals, and perfidious in the extreme ; but with a 
 supple, insinuating address, and an accommodating spirit, 
 tolerant of all kinds of profligacy in others. Conscious of his 
 own inherent baseness, he sought to secure an influence over 
 his pupil, by corrupting his principles and fostering his vices ; 
 he debased him, to keep himself from being despised. Unfor- 
 timately he succeeded. To the early precepts of this infamous 
 pander have been attributed those excesses that disgraced the 
 manhood of the Eegent, and gave a licentious character to his 
 whole course of government. His love of pleasure, quickened 
 and indulged by those who should have restrained it, led him 
 into all kinds of sensual indulgence. He had been taught to 
 think lightly of the most serious duties and sacred ties ; to turn 
 virtue into a jest, and consider religion mere hypocrisy. He 
 was a gay misanthrope, that had a sovereign but sportive con- 
 * tempt for mankind; behoved that his most devoted servant 
 would be his enemy, if interest prompted ; and maintained that 
 an honest man was he who had the art to conceal that he was 
 the contrary. 
 
 He surrounded himself with a set of dissolute men like him- 
 self ; who, let loose from the restraint under which they had 
 been held, during the latter hypocritical days of Louis XIV., 
 now gave way to every kind of debauchery. With these men 
 the Eegent used to shut himself up, after the hours of business, 
 and excluding all .crraver persons and graver concerns, celebrate 
 the most drunken and disgusting orgies; where obscenity and 
 blaspheiny formed the seasoning of conversation. For the 
 profligate companions of these revels, he invented the appella- 
 tion of his roues, the literal meaning of which is men broken 
 on the wheel ; intended, no doubt, to express their broken-down 
 
THE OllhJAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 
 47 
 
 characters and dislocated f oi^unes ; although a contemporary 
 asserts that it designated the punishment that most of them 
 merited. Madame de Labran, Avho was present at onQ of the 
 Regent s suppers, was disgusted by the conduct and conversa- 
 tion of the host and his guests, and observed at table, that God, 
 after he had created man, took the refuse clay that was left, 
 and made of it the souls of lacqueys and princes. 
 
 Such v/as the man that now ruled the destinies of France. 
 Law found him full of perplexities, from the disastrous state 
 of the finances. He had already tampered with the coinage, 
 calling in the coin of the nation, re-stamping it, and issuing it 
 at a nominal increase of one fifth ; thus defrauding the nation 
 out of twenty per cent of its capital. He was not likely, there- 
 fore, to be scrupulous about any means likely to relieve him 
 from financial difficulties ; he had even been led to listen to the 
 cruel alternative of a national bankruptcy. 
 
 Under these circumstances. Law confidently brought forward 
 his scheme of a bank, that was to pay off the national debt, in- 
 crease the revenue, and at the same time diminish the taxes. 
 The following is stated as the theory by which he recommended 
 his system to the Regent. The credit enjoyed by a banker or 
 a merchant, he observed, increases his capital tenfold ; that is 
 to say, he who has a capital of one hundred thousand livres, 
 may, if he possess sufficient credit, extend liis operations to a 
 million, and reap profits to that amount. In hke manner, a state 
 that can collect into a bank all the current coin of the kingdom, 
 would be as powerful as if its capital were increased tenfold. The 
 specie must be drawn into the bank, not by way of loan, or by 
 taxations, but in the way of deposit. This might be effected in 
 different modes, either by inspiring confidence, or by exerting 
 authority. One mode, he observed, had already been in use. 
 Each time that a state makes a re-coinage, it becomes momen- 
 tarily the depositary of all the money called in, belonging to 
 the subjects of that state. His bank was to effect the same 
 purpose; that is to say, to receive in deposit all the coin of the 
 kingdom, but to give in exchange its bills, which, being of an 
 invariable value, bearing an interest, and being payable on 
 demand, would not only supply the place of coin, but prove a 
 better and more profitable currency. 
 
 The Regent caught with avidity at the scheme. It suited his 
 bold, reckless spirit, and his grasping extravagance. Not that 
 he was altogether the dupe of Law's specious projects ; still he 
 was apt, like many other men, unskilled in the arcana of 
 
48 
 
 TUE CliATON PAPERS. 
 
 finance, to mistake the multiplication of money for the miil- 
 tipUcation of wealth; not understanding that it was a mere 
 agent or instrument in the interchange of traffic, to represent 
 the value of the various productions of industry ; and that an 
 increased circulation of coin or bank bills, in the shape of cur- 
 rency, only adds a proportionably increased and fictitious 
 value to such productions. Law enlisted the vanity of the 
 Regent m his cause. He persuaded Mm that he saw more 
 clearly than others into sublime theories of finance, which 
 were quite above the ordinary apprehension. He used to de- 
 clare that, excepting the Regent and the Duke of Savoy, no 
 one had thoroughly comprehended his system. 
 
 It is certain that it met with strong opposition from the 
 Regent's ministers, the Duke de Noailles and the Chancellor 
 d'Anguesseau ; and it was no less strenuously opposed by the 
 Parhament of Paris. Law, however, had a potent though 
 secret coadjutor in the Abbe Dubois, now rising, during the 
 regency, into great i^olitical power, and who retained a baneful 
 influence over the mind of the Regent. This wily priest, as 
 avaricious as he was ambitious, drew large simis from Law as 
 subsidies, and aided him greatly in many of his most pernicious 
 operations. He aided hun, in the present instance, to fortify 
 the mind of the Regent against all the remonstrances of his 
 ministers and the parliament. 
 
 Accordingly, on the 2d of May, 1716, letters patent were 
 gi^anted to Law, to establish a bank of deposit, discount, and 
 circulation, under the firm of "Law and Company," to con- 
 tinue for twenty years. The capital was fixed at six millions 
 of livres, divided into shares of five hundred livres each, which 
 were to be sold for twenty-five per cent of the regent's debased 
 coin, and seventy-five per cent of the pubhc secui-ities ; which 
 were then at a great reduction from their nominal value, and 
 which then amounted to nmeteen hundred millions. The os- 
 tensible object of the bank, as set forth in the patent, was to 
 encourage the commerce and manufactures of France. Tlie 
 louis d'ors and crowns of the bank were always to retain the 
 same standard of value, and its bills to be payable in them on 
 demand. 
 
 At the outset, while the bank was limited in its operations, 
 and while its paper really represented the specie m its vaults, 
 it seemed to realize aU that had been promised from it. It 
 rapidly acquired public confidence, and an extended circula- 
 tion, and produced an activity in commerce, unknown under 
 
THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 
 49 
 
 che baneful government of Louis XIV. As the bills of the 
 bank bore an intercut, and as it was stipulated they would be 
 of invariable value, and as hints had been artfully circulated 
 that the coin would experience suc(-'essive diminution, every- 
 body hastened to the bank to exchange gold and silver for 
 paper. So great became the throng of depositors, and so in- 
 tense their eagerness, that there was quite a press and struggle 
 at the bank door, and a ludicrous panic was awakened, as if 
 there was danger of their not being admitted. An anecdote of 
 the time relates that one of the clerks, with an ommous smile, 
 called out to the struggling multitude, " Have a little patience, 
 my friends ; wc mean to take all your money an assertion 
 disastrously verified in the sequel. 
 
 Thus, by the simple estabhshment of a bank, Law and the 
 Regent obtained pledges of confidence for the consummation of 
 further and more complicated schemes, as yet hidden from the 
 public. In a little while, the bank shares rose enormously, and 
 the amount of its notes in circulation exceeded one hundred 
 and ten miUions of livres. A subtle stroke of policy had ren- 
 dered it popular with the aristocracy. Louis XIV. had several 
 years previously imposed an income tax of a tenth, giving liis 
 royal word that it should cease in 1717. This tax had been 
 exceedingly irksome to the privileged orders ; and in the present 
 disastrous times they had dreaded an augmenta,ticn of it. In 
 consequence of the successful operation of Law's scheme, how- 
 ever, the tax was abolished, and now nothing was to be heard 
 among the nobility and clergy, but praises of the Regent and 
 the bank. 
 
 Hitherto aU had gone well, and ail might have continued to 
 go well, had not the paper system been further expanded. 
 But Law had yet the grandest part of liis scheme to develop. 
 He had to open his ideal world of speculation, his El Dorado 
 of unbounded wealth. The English had brought the vast 
 imaginary commerce of the South Seas in aid of their bank- 
 ing operations. Law sought to bring, as an immense auxiliary 
 of his banli, the whole trade of the Mississippi. Under this 
 name was mcluded not merely the river so called, but the vast 
 region known as Louisiana, extending from north latitude 29° 
 up to Canada in north latitude 40°. This country had been 
 granted by Louis Xi V. to the Sieur Crozat, but he had been 
 induced to resign his patent. In conformity to the plea of 
 Mr. Law, letters patent were granted in August, 1717, for the 
 creation of a commercial company, which was to have the 
 
60 
 
 THE CRA YON FAPEEJS. 
 
 colonizing of this country, and the monopoly of its trade? and 
 resources, and of the beaver or fur trade with Canada. It was 
 called the Western, but became better known as the Missis- 
 sippi Company. The capital was fixed at one hundred millions 
 of livres, divided into shares, bearing an interest of four per 
 cent, which were subscribed for in the public securities. As 
 the bank was to co-operate with the company, the Regent 
 ordered that its bills should be received the same as coin, in 
 all payments of the public revenue. Law was appointed cliief 
 director of this company, which was an exact copy of the Earl 
 of Oxford's South Sea Company, set on foot in 1711, and which 
 distracted aU England with the frenzy of speculation. In hke 
 mamier with the delusive picturings given in that memorable 
 scheme of the sources of rich trade to be opened in the South 
 Sea countries, Law held forth magnificent prospects of the 
 fortunes to be made in colonizing Louisiana, which was repre- 
 sented as a veritable land of promise, capable of yielduig every 
 variety of the most precious produce. Reports, too, were art- 
 fully circidated, with great mystery, as if to the "chosen 
 few," of mines of gold and silver recently discovered in Loui- 
 siana, and which would insure instant wealth to the early pur- 
 chasers. These confidential wiiispers of course soon became 
 public ; and were confirmed by travellers fresh from the Mis- 
 sissippi, and doubtless bribed, who had seen the mines in 
 question, and declared them superior in richness to those of 
 Mexico and Peru. Nay, more, ocular proof was fuTnished to 
 public creduhty, in ingots of gold conveyed to the mint, as if 
 just brought from the mines of Louisiana. 
 
 Extraordinary measures were adopted to force a coloniza- 
 tion. An edict was issued to collect and transport settlers to 
 the Mississippi. The pohce lent its aid. The streets and pri- 
 sons of Paris, and of the provincial cities, were swept of mendi- 
 cants and vagabonds of aU kinds, who were conveyed to Havre 
 do Grace. About six thousand were crowded mto ships, where 
 no precautions had been taken for their health or acconmioda- 
 tion. Instruments of all kinds proper for the working of 
 mines -were ostentatiously paraded in i^ublic, and put on board 
 the vessels ; and the whole set sail for tins fabled El Dorado, 
 wliich was to prove the grave of the greater part of its 
 vn:etched colonists. 
 
 D'Anguesseau, the chancellor, a man of probity and integ- 
 rity, still hfted his voice against the paper system of Law, and 
 his project of colonization, and was eloquent and prophetic m 
 
TUE GREAT MTSSISSim BUBBLE. ol 
 
 picturing the evils they were calculated to produce ; the pri- 
 vate distress and pubhc degradation ; the corruption of moi-als 
 and manners ; the triumph of knaves and schemers ; tlie ruin 
 of fortunes, and downfall of families. He was incited more 
 and more to tliis opposition by the Duke de Noailles, the Min- 
 ister of Finance, who was .ioalous of the growing ascendancy 
 of Law over the mind of the Eegent, but was less honest than 
 t]ie chancellor in his opposition. The Regent was excessively 
 annoyed by the difficulties they conjured up in the way of his 
 darlmg schemes of finance, and the countenance they gave to 
 the opposition of parhament ; which body, disgusted more and 
 more with the abuses of the regency, and the system of Law, 
 had gone so far as to carry its remonstrances to the very foot 
 of the throne. 
 
 He determined to relieve liimself from these two mmisters, 
 who, either through honesty or policy, interfered with all his 
 plans. Accordingly, on the 28th of January, 1718, he dis- 
 missed the chancellor from office, and exiled him to his estate 
 in the country ; and shortly afterward removed the Duke de 
 Noailles from the administration of the finances. 
 
 The opposition of parliament to the Regent and his measures 
 was carried on with increasing violence. That body aspired to 
 an equal authority with the Regent in the administration of 
 affau'S, and x^retended, by its decree, to suspend an edict of 
 the regency, ordering a new coinage and altering the value of 
 the currency. But its chief hostility was levelled against 
 Law, a foreigner and a heretic, and one who was considered 
 by a majority of the members in the light of a malefactor. In 
 fact, so far was this hostility carried, that secret measures were 
 taken to investigate his malversations, and to collect evidence 
 against him; and it was resolved in parliament that, should 
 the testimony collected justify their suspicions, Ihey would 
 have him seized and brought before them ; would give him a 
 brief trial, and if convicted, would hang him in the court- 
 yai'd of the palace, and throw open the gates after the execu- 
 tion, that the public might behold his corpse ! 
 
 Law received intimation of the danger hanging over him, 
 and was in terrible trepidation. He took refuge in the Palais 
 Royal, the residence of the Regent, and implored his protec- 
 tion. The Regent himself was embarrassed by the sturdy 
 opposition of parhament, which contemplated nothing less 
 than a decree reversing most of his pubhc measures, espe- 
 cially those of finance. His indecision kept Law for a time in 
 
62 
 
 THE CJIA TON PAPERS. 
 
 an agony of terror and suspense. Finally, by assembling a 
 board of justice, and bringing to his aid the absolute authority 
 of the King, he triumphed over parhament and relieved Law 
 from his dread of being hanged. 
 
 The system now went on Avith flowing sail. The Western or 
 Mississippi Company, being identified with the bank, rapidly 
 increased in power and privileges. One monopoly after an- 
 other was granted to it ; the trade of the Indian seas ; the slave 
 trade with Senegal and Guinea ; the farming of tobacco ; the 
 national coinage, etc. Each new privilege was made a pretext 
 for issuing more bills, and caused an immense advance in the 
 price of stock. At length, on the 4th of December, 1718, the 
 Regent gave the establishment the imposing title of The Royal 
 Bank, and proclaimed that he had effected the purchase of all 
 the shares, the proceeds of which he had added to its capital. 
 This measure seemed to shock the public feelmg more than 
 any other connected with the system, and roused the indigna- 
 tion of parliament. The French nation had been so accus- 
 tomed to attach an idea of everything noble, lofty, and mag- 
 nificent, to the royal name and person, especially during the 
 stately and sumptuous reign of Louis XIV., that they couJd 
 not at first tolerate the idea of royalty being in any degTce 
 mingled with matters of traffic and finance, and the king 
 being in a manner a banker. It was one of the do\vnward 
 steps, however, by which royalty lost its illusive splendor in 
 France, and became gradually cheapened m the pubhc mind. 
 
 Arbitrary measures now began to be taken to force the 
 bills of the bank into artificial currency. On the 27th of 
 December appeared an order in council, forbidding, under 
 severe penalties, the payment of any sum above six himdred 
 livres in gold or silver. This decree rendered bank bills neces- 
 sary in all transactions of purchase and sale, and called for a 
 new emission. The prohibition was occasionally evaded or 
 opposed ; confiscations were the consequence ; informers were 
 rewarded, and spies and traitors began to spring up in aU the 
 domestic walks of life. 
 
 The worst effect of this illusive system was the mania for 
 gain, or rather for gambling in stocks, that now seized upon 
 the Vvdiole nation. Under the exciting efl'ects of lying reports, 
 and the forcinr; effects of government decrees, the shares of 
 the company went on rising in value until they reached 
 thirteen hundred per cent. Nothing was now spoken of but 
 the price of shares, and the immense fortunes suddenly made 
 
THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 
 53 
 
 by lucliy speculators. Those wliom Law had deluded used 
 every means to delude others. The most extravagant dreams 
 were indulged, concerning the wealth to flovv^ in upon the com- 
 pany from its colonies, its ti-ade, and its various monopolies. 
 It is true, nothing as yet had been realized, nor could in some 
 time be realized, from these distant sources, even if pro- 
 ductive ; but the imaginations of speculators are ever in the 
 advance, and their conjectures are immediately converted into 
 facts. Lying reports now flew from mouth to mouth, of sure 
 avenues to fortune suddenly thrown open. The more extra- 
 vagant the fable, the more readily was it believed. To doubt 
 was to awaken anger, or incur ridicule. In a time of public 
 infatuation, it requires no small exercise of courage to doubt a 
 popular fallacy. 
 
 Paris now became the centre of attraction for the adven- 
 turous and the avaricious, who flocked to it, not merely from 
 the provinces, but from neighboring countries. A stock ex- 
 change was established in a house in the Rue Quincampoix, 
 and became immediately the gathering place of stock-jobbers. 
 The exchange opened at seven o'clock, with the beat of drum 
 and sound of bell, and closed at night with the same signals. 
 Guards were stationed at each end of the street, to maintain 
 order, and exclude carriages and horses. The whole street 
 swarmed throughout the day like a bee-hive. Bargains of all 
 kinds were seized upon with avidity. Shares of stock passed 
 from hand to hand, mounting in value, one knew not why. 
 Fortunes were made in a moment, as if by magic ; and every 
 lucky bargain prompted those around to a more desperate 
 throw of the die. The fever went on, increasing in intensity 
 as the day declined ; and when the drum beat, and the bell 
 rang, at night, to close the exchange, there were exclamations 
 of impatience and despair, as if the wheel of fortune had sud- 
 denly been stopped when about to make its luckiest evolution. 
 
 To engulf all classes in this ruinous vortex, Law now split 
 the shares of fifty millions of stock each into one hundred 
 shares; thus, as in the splitting of lottery tickets, accommo- 
 dating the venture to the humblest purse. Society was thus 
 stirred up to its very dregs, and adventurers of the lowest 
 order hurried to the stock market. All honest, industrious 
 pursuits, and modest gains, w^ere now despised. Wealth was 
 to be obtained instantly, without labor, and without stint. 
 Tlie upper classes were as base in their venality as the lower. 
 The highest and most powerful nobles, abandoning all gene- 
 
64 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 rous pursuits and lofty aims, engaged in the vile scuffle for 
 gain. They were even baser than the lower classes; for some 
 of them, who were members of the council of the regency, 
 abused their station and their influence, and promoted mea- 
 sures by which shares arose while m their hands, and they 
 made immense profits. 
 
 The Duke de Bourbon, the Prince of Conti, the Dukes de la 
 Force and D'Antin were among the foremost of these illustrious 
 stock-jobbers. They were nicknamed the Mississippi Lords, 
 and they smiled at the sneering title. In fact, the usual distinc- 
 tions of society had lost their consequence, under the reign 
 of this new passion. Rank, talent, mihtary fame, no longer 
 inspired deference. All respect for others, all seif-respect, 
 were forgotten m the mercenary struggle of the stock-market. 
 Even prelates and ecclesiastical corporations, forgetting their 
 true objects of devotion, mingled among the votaries of Mam- 
 mon. They were not behind those who wielded the civil 
 power in fabricating ordinances suited to their avaricious pur- 
 poses. Theological decisions forthwith appeared, in which the 
 anathema launched by the Church against usury, was con- 
 veniently construed as not extending to the traffic in bank 
 shares ! 
 
 ' The Abbe Dubois entered into the mysteries of stock-jobbing 
 with all the zeal of an apostle, and enriched himself by the 
 spoils of the credulous; and he continually drew large simis 
 from Law, as considerations for his political influence. Faith- 
 less to his country, in the course of his gambling speculations 
 he transferred to England a great amount of specie, which 
 had been paid into the royal treasury ; thus contributing to 
 the subsequent dearth of the precious metals. 
 
 The female sex participated in this sordid frenzy. Prin- 
 cesses of the blood, and ladies of the highest nobihty, were 
 among the most rapacious of stock-jobbers. The Regent 
 seemed to have the riches of Croesus at his command, and 
 lavished money by hundreds of thousands upon his female 
 relatives and favorites, as well as upon his roiies^ the dissolute 
 companions of his debauches. "My son," writes the Re- 
 gent's mother, in her correspondence, "gave me shares to the 
 amount of two millions, which I distributed among my house t 
 hold. The King also took several milhons for his own house- 
 hold. All the royal family have had them; all the children 
 and gi'andchildren of France, and the princes of the blood." 
 
 Luxury and extravagance kept pace with this sudden infla- 
 
THE GEE AT MISSISSIPri BUBBLE. 
 
 55 
 
 tion of fancied wealth. The hereditary palaces of nobles were 
 pulled down, and rebuilt on a scale of augmented splendor. 
 Entertainments were given, of incredible cost and magnificence. 
 Never before had been such display in houses, furniture, equi- 
 pages, and anmsements. This was particularly the case among 
 persons of the lower ranks, who had suddenly become possessed 
 of millions. Ludicrous anecdotes are related of some of these 
 upstarts. One, who had just launched a splendid carriage, 
 when about to use it for the first time, instead of getting in at 
 the door, mounted, through habitude, to his accustomed place 
 behind. Some ladies of quality, seeing a well-dressed woman 
 covered with diamonds, but whom nobody knew, alight from a 
 very handsome carriage, inquired who she was of the footman. 
 He replied, with a sneer: "It is a lady who has recently tum- 
 bled from a garret into this carriage." Mr. Law's domestics 
 were said to become in like manner suddenly enriched by the 
 crumbs that fell from his table. His coachman, having made 
 his fortune, retired from his service. Mr. Law requested him 
 to procure a coachman in his place. He appeared the next day 
 with two, whom he pronounced equally good, and told Mr. 
 Law: "Take which of them you choose, and I will take the 
 other!" 
 
 Nor were these novi homini treated with the distance and 
 disdain they would formerly have experienced from the haughty 
 aristocracy of France. The pride of the old noblesse had been 
 stifled by the stronger instinct of avarice. They rather sought 
 the intimacy and confidence of these lucky upstarts; and it has 
 been observed that a nobleman would gladly take his seat at 
 the table of the fortunate lacquey of yesterda3v', in hopes of 
 learning from him the secret of growing rich ! 
 
 Law now went about with a countenance radiant with suc- 
 cess and apparently dispensing wealth on every side. ' ' He is 
 admirably skilled in all that relates to finance," writes the 
 Duchess of Orleans, the Regent's mother, "and has put the 
 affairs of the state in such good order that all the king's debts 
 have been paid. He is so much run after that he has no 'repose 
 night or day. A duchess even kissed his hand pubhcly. If a 
 duchess can do this, what vv'ill other ladies do?" 
 
 Wherever he went, his path, we are told, was beset by a 
 sordid throng, who waited to see him pass, and sought to ob- 
 tain the favor of a word, a nod, or smile, as if a mere glance 
 from him would bestow fortune. When at home, his house 
 was absolutelj besieged by furious candidates for fortune. 
 
56 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 ''They forced the doors," says the Duke de St. Simon; "they 
 scaled his windows from the garden; they made their way 
 into his cabinet down the chimney I" 
 
 The same venal court was paid by all classes to his family. 
 The highest ladies of the court vied with each other in mean- 
 nesses to purchase the lucrative friendship of Mrs. Law and her 
 daughter. They waited upon them with as much assiduity and 
 adulation as if they had been princesses of the blood. The 
 Regent one day expressed a desire that some duchess should 
 accompany his daughter to Genoa. " My Lord," said some one 
 present, ' ' if you would have a choice from among the duchesses, 
 you need but send to Mrs. Law's ; you Avill find them all assem- 
 bled there." 
 
 The wealth of Law rapidly mcreased with the expansion of 
 the bubble. In the course of a few months he purchased four- 
 teen titled estates, paying for them in paper ; and the pubhc 
 hailed these sudden and vast acquisitions of landed property as 
 so many proofs of the soundness of his system. In one instance 
 he met vAfh a shrewd bargainer, who had not the general faith 
 in his paper money. The President de Novion insisted on being 
 paid for an estate in hard coin. Law accordingly brought the 
 amount, four hundred thousand livres, in specie, saying, with 
 a sarcastic smile, that he preferred paying in money as its 
 weight rendered it a, mere incumbrance. A.3 it happened, the 
 president could give no clear title to the land, and the money 
 had to be refunded. He paid it back in i^ciper, which Law 
 dared not refuse, lest he should depreciate it in the market. 
 
 The course of illusory credit went on triumphantly for eigh- 
 teen months. Law had neaidy fulfilled one of his promises, for 
 the greater part of the public debt had been paid off; but how 
 paid? In bank shares, which had been trumped up several 
 hundred ^qv cent above their value, and which w^ere to vanish 
 like smoke in the hands of the holders. 
 
 One of the most striking attributes of Law was the impertur- 
 bable assurance and self-possession Avith which he rephed to 
 every objection, and found a solution for every problem. He 
 had the dexterity of a juggler in evading difficulties ; and wha* 
 was peculiar, made figures themselves, which are the very 
 elements of exact demonstration, the means to dazzle and be- 
 wilder. 
 
 Toward the latter end of 1719 the Mississippi scheme had 
 reached its highest point of glory. Half a million of strangei'S 
 had crowded into Paris, in quest of fortune. The hotels and 
 
THE GREAT MISSIS^PPI BUBBLE. 
 
 5'7 
 
 iodging-liouses wore overflowing; lodgings were procured wit. 
 excessive difficulty; granaries were turned into bed-rooms; 
 provisions had risen enormously in price; splendid houses 
 were multiplying on every side ; the streets were crowded with 
 carriages ; above a thousand new equipages had been launched. 
 
 On the eleventh of December, Law obtained another prolii.bi- 
 tory decree, for the purpose of sweeping all the remaining 
 specie in circulation into the bank. By this it was forbidden 
 to make any payment in silver above ten livres, or in golc' 
 above three hundred. 
 
 The repeated decrees of tliis nature, the object of which Avas 
 to depreciate the value of gold, and increase the illusive credit 
 of paper, began to av/al^en doubts of a system wliich required 
 such bolstering. Capitalists gradually awoke from their be- 
 wilderment. Sound and able financiers consulted together, and 
 agreed to make common cause against this continual expansion 
 of a paper system. The shares of the bank and of the coinpany 
 began to decline in value. Wary men took the alarm, and 
 began to realize, a word now first brought into use, to express 
 the conversion of ideal property into something real. 
 
 The Prince of Conti, one of the most prominent and grasping 
 of the Mississippi lords, was the first to give a blow to the 
 credit of the bank. There was a mixture of ingratitude in his 
 conduct that characterized the venal baseness of the times. 
 He had received from time to time enormous sums from Law, 
 as the price of his influence and patronage. His avarice had 
 increased with every acquisition, until Law was compelled to 
 refuse one of his exactions. In revenge the prince inmiediately 
 sent such an amount of paper to the bank to be cashed, that it 
 required four wagons to bring away the sflver, and he had the 
 meanness to loll out of the window of his hotel and jest and 
 exult as it was trundled into his port cochere. 
 
 This was the signal for other drains of like nature. Tho 
 English and Dutch merchants, who had purchased a great 
 amount of bank paper at low prices, cashed them at the bank, 
 and carried the money out of the country. Other strangers 
 did the like, thus draining the kingdom of its specie, and leav- 
 ing paper in its place. 
 
 The Eegent, perceiving these symptoms of decay in the sys- 
 tem, sought to restore it to public confidence, by conferring 
 marks of confidence upon its author. He accordingly resolved 
 to make Law Comptroller General of the Finances of France. 
 There wais a material obstacle in his way. Law was a Protes- 
 
58 
 
 Tin: CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 tant, and the Regent, unscrupulous as he was himself, did not 
 dare publicly to outrage the severe edicts which Louis XIV., 
 in his bigot days, had fulminated against all heretics. Law 
 soon let him know that there would be no difficidty on that 
 head. He was ready at any moment to abjure his rehgion in 
 the way of business. For decency's sake, however, it was 
 judged proper he should previously be convinced and con- 
 verted. A ghostly instructor was soon found, ready to ac- 
 complish his conversion in the shortest possible time. This 
 was the Abbe Tencin, a profligate creature of the profligate 
 Dubois, and hke him working his way to ecclesiastical pro- 
 motion and temporal wealth, by the basest means. 
 
 Under the instructions of the Abbe Tencin, Law soon mas- 
 tered the mysteries and dogmas of the Cathohc doctrme ; and, 
 after a brief course of ghostly training, declared himself 
 thoroughly convinced and converted. To avoid the sneers 
 and jests of the Parisian public, the ceremony of abjuration 
 took place at Melun. Law made a pious present of one hun- 
 dred thousand livres to the Church of St. Roque, and the Abbe 
 Tencin was rewarded for his edifying labors by sundry shares 
 and bank bills ; which he shrewdly took care to convert into 
 cash, having as little faith in the system as in the piety of his 
 new convert. A more grave and moral community juight 
 have been outraged by this scandalous farce ; but the Parisians 
 laughed at it with their usual levity, and contented themselves 
 with making it the subject of a number of songs and epigrams. 
 
 Law now being orthodox in his faith, took out letters of 
 naturahzation, and having thus surmounted the mtervening 
 obstacles, was elevated by the Regent to the post of Comp- 
 troller General. So accustomed had the community become 
 to all juggles and transmutations in this hero of finance, that 
 no one seemed shocked or astonished at his sudden elevation. 
 On the contrary, being now considered perfectly established in 
 place and power, he became more than ever the object of venal, 
 adoration. Men of rank and dignity thronged his antecham- 
 ber, waiting patiently their turn for an audience; and titled 
 dames demeaned themselves to take the front seats of the 
 carriages of his wife and daughter, as if they had been riding 
 with princesses of the royal blood. Law's head grew giddy 
 with his elevation, and he began to aspire after aristocratical 
 distinction. There was to be a court ball, at which several of 
 the young noblemen were to dance in a ballet with the youth- 
 fid King. Law requested that his son might be admitted into 
 
THE QUE AT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 
 59 
 
 the ballet, and the Regent consented. The young scions of 
 nobility, however, were indignant and scouted the ' ' intruding 
 upstart." Their more worldly parents, fearful of displeasing 
 the modern Midas, reprimanded them in vain. The striplings 
 had not yet imbibed the passion for gain, and still held to their 
 high blood. The son of the banker received slights and annoy- 
 ances on all sides, and the public applauded them for their 
 spirit. A fit of illness came opportunely to reheve the youth 
 from an honor which would have cost him a world of vexations 
 and affronts. 
 
 In February, 1720, shortly after Law's instalment in office, a 
 decree came out uniting the bank to the India Company, by 
 which last name the whole establishment was now known. 
 The decree stated that as the bank was royal, the King was 
 bound to make good the value of its bills ; that he committed 
 to the company the government of the bank for fifty years, 
 and sold to it fifty millions of stock belonging to him, for nine 
 hundred millions; a simple advance of eighteen hundred per 
 cent. The decree farther declared, in the King's name, that 
 he would never draw on the bank, until the value of his drafts 
 had first been lodged in it by his receivers general. 
 
 The bank, it was said, had by this time issued notes to the 
 amount of one thousand millions ; being more paper than all 
 the banks of Europe were able to circulate. To aid its credit, 
 the receivers of the revenue were directed to take bank notes 
 of the sub-receivers. All payments, also, of one hundred livres 
 and upward were ordered to be made in bank notes. These 
 compulsory measures for a short time gave a false credit to the 
 bank, which proceeded to discount merchants' notes, to lend 
 money on jewels, plate, and other valuables, as well as on 
 mortgages. 
 
 Still farther to force on the system an edict next appeared, 
 forbidding any individual, or any corporate body, civil or 
 religious, to hold in possession more than five hundred hvres 
 in current coin; that is to say, about seven louis-d'ors; the 
 value of the louis-d'or in paper being, at the time, seventy-two 
 livres. AH the gold and silver they might have above this 
 pittance was to be brought to the royal bank, and exchanged 
 either for shares or biUs. 
 
 As confiscation was the penalty of disobedience to this 
 decree, and informers were assured a share of the forfeitures, 
 a bounty was in a manner held out to domestic spies and 
 traitors ; and the most odious scrutiny was awakened iato the 
 
60 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 pecuniary affairs of families and individuals. The very confi- 
 dence between friends and relatives was impaired, and all the 
 domestic ties and virtues of society were threatened, until a 
 general sentiment of indignation broke forth, that compelled 
 the Regent to rescind the odious decree. Lord Stairs, the 
 British ambassador, speaking of the system of espionage en- 
 couraged by this edict, observed that it was impossible to 
 doubt tliat Law was a thorough Catholic, since ho had thus 
 established the imjuisition, after having already proved traii- 
 siibstantiation, by changing specie into paper. 
 
 Equal abuses had taken place under the colonizing project. 
 In his thousand expedients to amass capital. Law had sold 
 parcels of land in Mississippi, at the rate of three thousand livres 
 for a league square. Many capitalists had purchased, estates 
 large enough to constitute almost a principality ; the only evil 
 was, Law had sold a property which he could not deliver. 
 The agents of police, who aided in recruiting the ranks of the 
 colonists, had been guilty of scandalous impositions. Under 
 pretence of taking up mendicants and vagabonds, they had 
 scoured the streets at night, seizing upon honest mechanics, or 
 their sons, and hurrying them to their crimping-houses, for 
 the sole purpose of extorting money from them as a ransom. 
 The populace vs^as roused to indignation by these abuses. The 
 officers of police were mobbed in the exercise of their odious 
 functions, and several of them were killed ; which put an end 
 to this flagrant abuse of power. 
 
 In March, a most extraordinary decree of the council fixed 
 the price of shares of the India Company at nine thousand 
 livres each. All ecclesiastical communities and hospitals were 
 now prohibited from investing money at interest, in anything 
 but India stock. With all these props and stays, the system 
 continued to totter. How could it be otherwise, under a des- 
 potic government, that coidd alter the value of property at 
 every moment? The very compulsory measures that were 
 adopted to establish the credit of the bank hastened its fall; 
 plainly showing there was a want of solid security. Law 
 caused pamphlets to be published, setting forth, in eloquent 
 language, the vast profits that must accrue to holders of 
 the stock, and the impossibility of the King's ever doing it any 
 harm. On the very back of these assertions came forth an 
 edict of the King, dated the 22d of May, ^>>erein, under pre- 
 tence of having reduced the value of hi coin, it iva;? declared 
 necessary to reduce the value of his ba:ik notes ont; half, and 
 
TIIK GUI': AT MWSllSSIPri nUBBLIi:. 
 
 61 
 
 of the India shares from nine thousand to five thousand 
 livres. 
 
 This decree came Hke a clap of thunder upon shareholders. 
 They found one half of the pretended value of the paper in 
 their hands annihilated in an instant ; and what certainty had 
 they with respect to the otlier half ? The rich considered them- 
 selves ruined ; those in humbler circumstances looked lorward 
 to abject beggary. 
 
 The parliament seized the occasion to stand forth as the 
 protector of the public, and refused to register the decree. It 
 gained the credit of compelling the Regent to retrace his step, 
 though it is niore probable he yielded to the universal burst of 
 public astonislmient and reprobation. On the 27th of May the 
 edict was revoked, and bank-bills were restored to their pre- 
 vious value. But the fatal blow had been struck ; the delusion 
 was at an end. Government itself had lost aU public confi- 
 dence, equally with the bank it had engendered, and wliich its 
 own arbitrary acts had brought into discredit. "All Paris," 
 says the Regent's mother, in her letters, ' ' has been mourning 
 at the cursed decree which Law" has persuaded my son to 
 make. I have received anonymous letters, stating that I have 
 nothing to fear on my own account, but that my son shall be 
 pursued with fire and sword." 
 
 The Regent now endeavored to avert the odium of his ruin- 
 ous schemes from himself. He affected to have suddenly lost 
 confidence in Law, and on the 29th of May, discharged him 
 from his employ as Comptroller General, and stationed a Swdss 
 guard of sixteen men in his house. He even refused to see 
 him, when, on the follov^^ing day, he applied at the portal of 
 the Palais Royal for admission: but having played off this 
 farce before the public, he admitted Mm secretly the same 
 night, by a private door, and continued as before to co-operate 
 with him in his financial schemes. 
 
 On the first of June, the Regent issued a decree, permitting 
 persons to have as much money as they pleased in their pos- 
 session. Few, however, were in a state to benefit by this 
 permission. There was a run upon the bank, but a royal 
 ordinance immediately suspended payment, until farther or- 
 ders. To relieve the public mind, a city stock was created, of 
 twenty-five milHons, bearing an interest of two and a half per 
 cent, for which bank notes were taken in exchange. The bank 
 notes thus withdrawn from circulation, were publicly burned 
 before the Hotel de Ville. The pubUc, however, had lost con- 
 
62 
 
 THE CRAYON rAPKUS. 
 
 fidence in everything and everybody, and suspected fraud and 
 collusion in those who pretended to burn the bills. 
 
 A general confusion now took place in the financial world. 
 FamiUes who had lived in opulence, found themselves sud- 
 denly reduced to indigence. Schemers who had been revelling 
 in the delusion of princely fortune, found their estates vanish- 
 ing into thin air. Those Avho had any property remaining, 
 sought to secure it against reverses. Cautious persons found 
 there was no safety for property in a country where the coin 
 was continually sliifting in value, and v^dlere a despotism was 
 exercised over public securities, and even over the private 
 purses of individuals. They began to send their effects into 
 other countries; when lo! on the 20th of June a royal edict 
 commanded them to bring back their effects, under penalty of 
 foi'f citing twice their value ; and forbade them, under like pen- 
 alty, from investing their money in foreign stocks. This was 
 soon followed by another decree, forbidding any one to retain 
 precious stones in his possession, or to sell them to foreigners ; 
 all must be deposited in the bank, in exchange for depreciating 
 paper ! 
 
 Execrations were now poured out on all sides, against Law, 
 and menaces of vengeance. Y7hat a contrast, in a short time, 
 to the venal incense that was offered up to him! "Tliis per- 
 son," writes the Eegent's mother, "who was formerly wor- 
 shipped as a god, is now not sure of his life. It is astonishing 
 how greatly terrified he is. He is as a dead man ; he is pale as 
 a sheet, and it is said he can never get over it. My son is 
 not dismayed, though he is threatened on all sides ; and is very 
 much amused with Law's terrors." 
 
 About the middle of July the last grand attempt was made 
 by Law and the Regent, to keep up the system, and provide 
 for the immense emission of paper. A decree was fabricated, 
 giving the India Company the entire monopoly of commerce, 
 on condition that it would, in the coiu-se of a year, remiburse 
 six hundred millions of livres of its bills, at the rate of fifty 
 millions per month. 
 
 On the 17th this decree was sent to parliament to be regis- 
 tered. It at once raised a storm of opposition in that assembly ; 
 and a vehement discussion took place. While that was going 
 on, a disastrous scene was passin^r out of doors. 
 
 The calamitous effects of the system had reached the hum- 
 blest concerns of human life. Provisions had risen to an 
 enormous price ; paper money was refused at aU the shops ; the 
 
THE GittJAT iMisiiJs.sjrpi nunnijc. 
 
 OS 
 
 people had not wherewithal to buy bread. It had been found 
 absolutely indispensable to relax a little Irom the suspension of 
 specie payments, and to allow small sums to be scantily ex- 
 changed for paper. The doors of the bank and the neighboring 
 streets were immediately tin-oiiged with a famishing multitude, 
 seeking cash for bank-notes of ten hvres. So great was the 
 press and struggle that several persons were stifled and 
 crushed to death. The mob carried three of the bodies to the 
 court-yard of the Palais iioyal. Some cried for the Eegcut to 
 come forth and behold the elfect of his system; others de- 
 manded the death of Law, the impostor, who had brought this 
 misery and ruin upon the nation. 
 
 The moment was critical, the popular fury was rising to a 
 tempest, when Le Blanc, the Secretary of State, stepped forth. 
 He had previously sent for the military, and now only sought 
 to gain time. Singling out six or seven stout fellows, who 
 seemed to be the ringleaders of the mob: "My good fellows," 
 said he, calmly, "carry away these bodies and place them in 
 some church, and then come back quickly to me for your pay." 
 They immediately obeyed; a kind of funeral procession was 
 formed; the arrival of troops dispersed those who hngered 
 behind ; and Paris was probably saved from an insurrection. 
 
 About ten o'clock in the morning, all being quiet, Law ven- 
 tured to go in his carriage to the Palais Eoyal. He was 
 saluted with cries and curses, as he passed along the streets ; 
 and he reached the Palais Eoyal in a terrible fright. The 
 Eegent amused himself with his fears, but retained him "vvlth 
 him. and sent off his carriage, which was assailed by the mob, 
 pelted vnih. stones, and the glasses shivered. The news of this 
 outrage was communicated to parliament in the midst of a 
 furious discussion of the decree for the commercial monopoly. 
 The first president, who had been absent for a short time, re- 
 entered, and communicated the tidings in a whimsical couplet : 
 
 " Messieurs, Messieurs! bonne nouvelle ! 
 Le carrosse de Law est reduite en carrelle !" 
 
 "Gentlemen. Gentlemen! jrnnd news! 
 The carriage of Law is shivered to atoms!" 
 
 The members sprang up with joy; "And Law!" exclaimed 
 they, "has he been torn to pieces?" Tlie president was igno- 
 rant of the result of the tiunult : whereupon the debate was 
 cut short, the decree rejected, and the house adjourned; the 
 members hurrviue' to lenrn the pnrticTilRi*s. Such was the 
 
64 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 levity with which pubhc affairs were treated at that dissohite 
 and disastrous period. 
 
 On the following day there was an ordinance from the king, 
 prohibiting all popular assemblages ; and troops were stationed 
 at various points, and in all public places. The regiment of 
 guards was ordered to hold itself in readiness ; and the musque- 
 teers to be at their hotels, with their horses ready saddled. A 
 number of small offices were opened, where people might cash 
 small notes, though with great delay and difficulty. An edict 
 was also issued declaring that whoever should refuse to take 
 bank-notes in the course of trade should forfeit double the 
 amount ! 
 
 The continued and vehement opposition of parliament to the 
 whole delusive system of finance, had been a constant soiu-ce 
 of annoyance to the Regent; but this obstinate rejection of his 
 last grand expedient of a commercial monopoly, was not to be 
 tolerated. He determined to punish that intractable body. 
 The Abbe Dubois and Law suggested a simple mode ; it was to 
 suppress the parliament altogether, being, as they observed, so 
 far from useful, that it was a constant imj^ediment to the 
 march of public affairs. The Ecgent was half inclined to listen 
 to theii' advice ; but uj^on calmer consideration, and the advice 
 of friends, he adopted a more moderate course. On the 20th 
 of July, early in the morning, all the doors of the parliament- 
 house were taken possession of by troops. Others were sent to 
 surround the house of the first president, and others to the 
 houses of the various members ; who were all at first in great 
 alarm, until an order from the king was put into tlieu' hands, 
 to render themselves at Pontoise, in the course of two days, to 
 which place the parhament was thus suddenly and arbitrarily 
 transferred. 
 
 This despotic act, says Voltaire, would at any other time 
 have caused an insurrection; but one lialf of the Parisians 
 * .vere occupied by their ruin, and the other half by then- fancied 
 riches, which were soon to vanish. Tlie president and mem- 
 bers of parliament acquiesced in the mandate without a mur- 
 mur ; they even went as if on a party of pleasure, and made 
 every preparation to lead a joyous life in their exile. The 
 nmsqueteers, who held possession of the vacated pcirliament- 
 house, a gay corps of fashionable young fellows, amused them- 
 selves with making songs and pasquinades, at the exj^ense of 
 the exiled legislators ; and at length, to pass away time, formed 
 themselves into a mock parliament; elected their presidents, 
 
THE GliEAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
 
 65 
 
 kings, ministers, and advocates ; took their seats in due form, 
 arraigned a cat at their bar, in place of the Sieur Law, and after 
 giving it a ''fair trial," condemned it to be lianged. In this 
 manner public aifairs and public institutions were lightly 
 turned to jest. 
 
 As to the exiled parliament, it Uved gayly and luxuriously at 
 Pontoise, at the public expense ; for the Regent had furnished 
 ' funds, a J usual, with a lavish hand. The first president had 
 the mansion of the Duke de Bouillon put at his disposal, ready 
 furnished, with a vast and delightful garden on the borders of 
 a river. There he kept open house to all the members of par- 
 liament. Several tables were spread every day, all furnished 
 luxuriously and splendidly; the most exquisite wines and 
 liqueurs, the choicest fruits and refreshments, of all kinds, 
 abounded. A number of small chariots for one and two horses 
 were always at hand, for such ladies and old gentlemen as 
 wished to take an airing after dinner, and card and bilhard 
 tables for such as chose to amuse themselves in that way mitil 
 supper. The sister and the daughter of the first president did 
 the honors of the house, and he hunseli presided there with an 
 air of great ease, hospitality, and magnificence. It became a 
 party of pleasure to drive from Paris to Pontoise, which was 
 six leagues distant, and partake of the amusements and festivi- 
 ties of the place. Business was openly slighted ; nothing was 
 thought of but amusement. The Regent and his government 
 were laughed at, and made the subjects of continual pleasant- 
 ries ; while the enormous expenses incurred by this idle and 
 lavish course of life, more than doubled the hberal sums pro- 
 vided. This was the way in which the parliament resented 
 their exile. 
 
 During aU this time, the system was getting more and more 
 involved. The stock exchange had some time pre\dously been 
 removed to the Place Vendome ; but the tumult and noise be- 
 coming intolerable to the residents of that polite quarter, and 
 especially to the chancellor, whose hotel was there, the Prince 
 and Princess Carignan, both deep gamblers in Mississippi 
 stock, offered the extensive garden of the Hotel de Soissons 
 as a rally ing-place for the worshippers of Mammon. The offer 
 was accepted. A number of barracks were inmiediately 
 erected in the garden, as offices for the stock-brokers, and an 
 order was obtained from the Regent, under pretext of police 
 regulations, that no bargain should be vahd unless concluded 
 in these barracks. The rent of tbrju immediately mounted to 
 
60 
 
 THE CllAYON PArEiiS. 
 
 a hundred livres a month for each, and the whole yielded these 
 noble proprietors an ignoble revenue of half a million of hvres. 
 
 The mania for gain, however, was now at an end. A mii- 
 versal panic succeeded. l^aiive qui pent was the watch- 
 word. Every one was anxious to exchange falling paper for 
 somethmg of intrmsic and permanent value. hUnce money 
 was not to be had, jewels, precious stones, plate, porcelain, 
 trinkets of gold and silver, all commanded any price in papei-. 
 Land was bouglit at fifty years' purchase, and he esteemed 
 himself happy who could get it even at tliis price. Monopolies 
 now became the rage among the noble holders of paper. The 
 Duke de la Force bought up nearly all the tallow, grease, and 
 soap ; others the coffee and spices ; others hay and oats. For- 
 eign exchanges were almost impracticable. The debts of 
 Dutch and English merchants w^ere paid m this fictitious 
 money, all the coin of the realm havmg disappeared. All the 
 relations of debtor and creditor were confounded. With one 
 thousand crowns one might pay a debt of eighteen thousand 
 livres ! 
 
 The Regent's mother, who once exulted in the affluence of 
 bank paper, now wrote in a very different tone : "I have 
 often wished," said she in her letters, "that these bank 
 notes were in the depts of the infernal regions. They have 
 given my son more trouble than relief. Nobody in France 
 has a penny. * ^- My son was once popular, but since the ar- 
 rival of this cursed Law, he is hated more and more. Not a 
 week passes, without my receiving letters filled with fright- 
 ful threats, and speaking of hmi as a tyrant. I have just 
 received one threatening him with poison. When I showed 
 it to him, he did nothing but laugh. " 
 
 In the meantime. Law was dismayed by the increasing 
 troubles, and terrified at the tempest he had raised. He was 
 not a man of real courage; and fearing for his personal 
 safety, from popular tumult, or the despair of ruined indi- 
 viduals, he again took refuge in the palace of the Regent. 
 The latter, as usual, amused himself with his terrors, and 
 turned every new disaster into a jest; but he too began to 
 think of his own security. 
 
 In pursuing the schemes of Ijaw, he had no doubt cal- 
 culated to carry through his term of government with ease 
 and splendor; and to enrich himself, his connexions, and his 
 favorites; and had hoped that the catasUoxjhe of the system 
 would not take place until jifter the expiration of the regency. 
 
TIIK GREAT jMISSISSim BUBBLE. 
 
 67 
 
 He now saw his mistake; that it was impossible much 
 longer to prevent an explosion; and he determined at once 
 to get Law out oi the way, and than to charge him with 
 the whole tissue of delusions of this paper alchemy. He ac- 
 cordingly took occasion of the recall of parliament in De- 
 cember, 1720, to suggest to Law the policy of his avoiding 
 an encounter with that hostile and exasperated body. Law 
 needed no urging to the measure. His only desire was to 
 escape from Paris and its tempestuous populace. Two days be- 
 fore the return of parliament he took his sudden and secret 
 departure. He travelled in a chaise bearing the arms of the 
 Regent, and was escoi'ted by a kind of safeguard of sei-vants, 
 in the duke's livery. His first place of refuge was an estate 
 of the Regent's, about six leagues from Paris, from whence he 
 pushed forward to Bruxelles. 
 
 As soon as Law was fairly out of the way, the Duke of 
 Orleans summoned a council of the regency, and informed 
 them that they were assembled to deliberate on the state of 
 the finances, and the affairs of the India Company. Accord- 
 ingly La Houssaye, Comptroller General, rendered a perfectly 
 clear statement, by which it appeared that there were bank 
 bills in circidation to the amount of two miUiards, seven 
 hundred millions of livres, without any evidence that this 
 enormous sum had been emitted in virtue of any ordinance 
 from the general assembly of the India Company, which alone 
 had the right to authorize such emissions. 
 
 The council was astonished at tliis disclosure, and looked 
 to the Regent for explanation. Pushed to the extreme, the 
 Regent avowed that Law had emitted biUs to the amount of 
 twelve hundred millions beyond what had been fixed by or- 
 dinances, and in contradiction to express prohibitions; that 
 the thing being done, he, the Regent, had legalized or rather 
 covered the transaction, by decrees ordering such emissions, 
 which decrees he had antedated. 
 
 A stormy scene ensued between the Regent and the Duke 
 de Bourbon, Uttle to the credit of either, both having been 
 deeply imphcated in the cabalistic operations of the system. 
 In fact, the several members of the council had been among 
 the most venal "beneficiaries" of the scheme, and had inter- 
 ests at stake wliich they were anxious to secure. From all 
 the circmnstances of the case, I am inclined to think that 
 others were more to blame than Law, for the disastrous effects 
 of his fuiancial projects. His bank, had it been confined to 
 
68 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 its original limits, and left to the control of its own inter- 
 nal regulations, might have gone on prosperously, and been 
 of great benefit to the nation. It was an institution fitted 
 for a free country; but unfortunately it was subjected to 
 the control of a despotic government, that could, at its pleas- 
 ure, alter the value of the specie within its vaults, and com- 
 pel the most extravagant expansions of its paper circulation. 
 The vital prmciple of a bank is security in the regularity of 
 its operations, and the immediate convertibility of its paper 
 into coin; and what confidence could be reposed in an insti- 
 tution or its paper promises, when the sovereign could at 
 any moment centuple those promises in the market, and seize 
 upon all the money in the bank? The compulsory measures 
 used, likewise, to force bank notes into currency, against the 
 judgment of the public, was fatal to the system; for credit 
 must be free and uncontrolled as the common air. The Re- 
 gent was the evil spirit of the system, that forced Law on to 
 an expansion of his paper curency far beyond what he had 
 ever dreamed of. He it was that in a manner compelled the 
 unlucky projector to devise all kinds of collateral companies 
 and monopohes, by which to raise funds to meet the con- 
 stantly and enormously increasing emissions of shares and 
 notes. Law was but like a poor conjuror in the hands of a 
 potent spirit that he has evoked, and that obliges him to go 
 on, desperately and ruinously, with his conjurations. He only 
 thought at the outset to raise the wind, but the Regent com- 
 pelled him to raise the wliirl^dnd. 
 
 The investigation of the affairs of the Company by the 
 council, resnliecl in nothing beneficial to the public. The 
 princes and nobles who had enriched themselves by all kinds 
 of juggles and extortions, escaped unpunished, and retained 
 the greater part of their spoils. Many of the "suddenly 
 rich," Avho had risen from obscurity to a giddy height of 
 imaginary prosperity, and had indulged in all kinds of vul- 
 gar and ridiculous excesses, awoke as out of a dream, in their 
 original poverty, now made more galling and humihating by 
 their transient elevation. 
 
 The weight of the evil, however, fell on more valuable classes 
 of society; honest tradesmen and artisans, who had been 
 seduced away from the safe pursuits of industry, to the 
 specious chances of speculation. Thousands of meritorious 
 families also, once opulent, had been reduced to indigence, 
 by a too gi^eat confidence in government. There was a gen- 
 
THE GREAT MlSSISSim BUBBLE. 
 
 69 
 
 eral derangement in the finances, that long exerted a bane- 
 ful influence over the national prosperity; but the most dis- 
 astrous effects of the system were upon the morals and man- 
 ners of the nation. The faith of engagements, the sanctity 
 of promises in affairs of business, were at an end. Every 
 expedient to grasp present profit, or to evade present difficulty, 
 was tolerated. While such deplorable laxity of principle was 
 generated in the busy classes, the chivalry of France had 
 soiled their pennons ; and honor and glory, so long the idols of 
 the GaUic nobility, had been tumbled to the earth, and tram- 
 pled in the dirt of the stock-market. 
 
 As to Law, the originator of the system, he appears even- 
 tually to have profited but httle by his schemes. "He was a 
 quack," says Voltaire, "to whom the state was given to be 
 cured, but who poisoned it with his drugs, and who poisoned 
 himself." The effects wliich he left beliind in France, were 
 sold at a low price, and the proceeds dissipated. His landed 
 estates were confiscated. He carried away with him barely 
 enough to maintain himself, his wife, and daughter, with de- 
 cency. The chief rehque of his immense fortune was a great 
 diamond, which he was often obliged to pawn. He was in 
 England in 1721, and was presented to George the First. He 
 returned shortly afterwards to the continent; shifting about 
 from place to place, and died in Venice, in 1729. His wife and 
 daughter, accustomed to live with the prodigality of ]Drincesses, 
 could not conform to their altered fortunes, but dissipated the 
 scanty means left to them, and sank into abject poverty. "I 
 saw liis wife," says Voltaire, "at Bruxelles, as much humili- 
 ated as she had been haughty and triumphant in Paris. " An 
 elder brother of Law remained in France, and was protected 
 by the Duchess of Bourbon. His descendants have acquitted 
 themselves honorably, in various public employments; and 
 one of them is the Marquis Lauriston, some time Lieutenant 
 General and Peer of France. 
 
70 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 DON JUAN. 
 A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. 
 
 " I have heard of spirits walking with aerial bodies, and have been wondered at 
 by others; but I must only wonder at mj'self, for if thej' be not mad, I'me come to 
 my own buriall."— Shirley's " Witty Fairie One." 
 
 Everybody has heard of the fate of Don Juan, the famous 
 hbertine of Seville, who for his sins against the fair sex and 
 other minor peccadilloes was hurried away to the infernal 
 regions. His story has been illustrated in play, in pantomime, 
 and farce, on everj^ stage in Christendom ; until at length it has 
 been rendered the theme of the opera of operas, and embalmed 
 to endless dm-ation in the glorious music of Mozart. I well 
 recollect the effect of this story upon my feehngs in my boyish 
 days, though represented in grotesque pantomime; the awe 
 with which I contemplated the monumental statue on horse- I 
 back of the murdered commander, gleaming by pale moonlight 
 in the convent cemetery ; how my heart quaked as he bowed 
 his marble head, and accepted the impious invitation of Don 
 Juan : how each foot-fall of the statue smote upon my heart, 
 as I heard it approach, step by step, thi'ough the echoing cor- 
 ridor, and beheld it enter, and advance, a moving figure of 
 stone, to the supportable! But then the convivial scene in 
 the charnel-house, where Don Juan returned the visit of the 
 statue; was offered a banquet of skulls and bones, and on 
 refusing to partake, was hurled into a yawning gulf, under a 
 tremendous shower of fire ! These were accumulated horrors 
 enough to shake the nerves of the most pantomime-loving 
 school-boy. Many have supposed the story of Don Juan a 
 mere fable. I myself thought so once; but " seeing is behev- 
 ing." I have since beheld the very scene where it took place, 
 and now to indulge any doubt on the subject would be pre- 
 posterous. 
 
 I was one night perambulating the streets of Seville, in com- 
 pany with a Spanish friend, a curious investigator of the popu- 
 lar traditions and other good-for-nothing lore of the city, and 
 who was kind enough to imagine he had met, in me, with a 
 congenial spirit. In the course of our rambles we were passing 
 by a heavj^ dark gateway, opening into the coiu-t-yard of a 
 convent, when he laid his hand upon my arm: "Stop!" said 
 he, "this is the convent of San Francisco ; there is a story cod- 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 71 
 
 nected with it, which I am sure must be known to you. You 
 cannot but have heard of Don Juan and the marble statue. " 
 
 " Undoubtedly," rephed I, "it has been famihar to me from 
 childhood." 
 
 "Well, then, it was in the cemetery of this very convent 
 that the events took place." 
 
 "Why, you do not mean to say that the story is founded on 
 fact?" 
 
 ' ' Undoubtedly it is. The circumstances of the case are said 
 to have occurred during the reign of Alfonso XI. Don Juan 
 was of the noble family of Tenorio, one of the most illustrious 
 houses of Andalusia. His father, Don Diego Tenorio, was a 
 favorite of the king, and his family ranked among the deinte- 
 cuatros, or magistrates, of the city. Presuming on his high de- 
 scent and powerful connections, Don Juan set no bounds to his 
 excesses : no female, high or low, was sacred from his pursuit : 
 and he soon became the scandal of Seville. One of his most 
 daring outrages was, to penetrate by night into the palace of 
 Don Gonzalo de Ulloa, commander of the order«of Calatrava, 
 and attempt to carry off his daughter. The household was 
 alarmed ; a scuffle in the dark took place ; Don Juan escaped, 
 but the unfortunate commander was found weltering in his 
 blood, and expired without being able to name his murderer. 
 Suspicions attached to Don Juan ; he did not stop to meet the 
 investigations of justice, and the vengeance of the powerful 
 family of Ulloa, but fled from Seville, and took refuge with his 
 uncle, Don Pedro Tenorio, at that time ambassador at the court 
 of Naples. Here he remained until the agitation occasioned by 
 the murder of Don Gonzalo had time to subside ; and the scan- 
 dal which the affair might cause to both the families of Ulloa 
 and Tenorio had induced them to hush it up. Don Juan, how- 
 ever, continued his hbertine career at Naples, until at length 
 his excesses forfeited the protection of his uncle, the ambassa- 
 dor, and obliged him again to flee. He had made his way back 
 to Seville, trusting that his past misdeeds were forgotten, or 
 rather trusting to his dare-devil spirit and the power of his 
 family, to carry him through all difficulties. 
 
 "It was shortly after his return, and while in the height of 
 his arrogance, that on visiting this very convent of Francisco, 
 he beheld on a monument the equestrian statue of the mur- 
 dered commander, who had been buried within the walls of 
 this sacred edifice, where the family of Ulloa had a chapel. It 
 was on this occasion that Don Juan, in a moment of impious 
 
72 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 levity, invited the statue to the banquet, the awful catastrophe 
 of which has given such celebrity to his story." 
 
 And pray how much of this story," said I, "is beheved in 
 Seville?" 
 
 " The wliole of it by the populace; with whom it has been a 
 favorite tradition since time immemorial, and who crowd to 
 the theatres to see it represented in dramas written long since 
 by Tyrso de Mohna, and another of our popular writers. Many 
 in our higher ranks also, accustomed from childhood to this 
 story, would feel somewhat indignant at hearing it treated with 
 contempt. An attempt has been made to explain the whole, 
 by asserting that, to put an end to the extravagancies of Don 
 Juan, and to pacify the family of Ulloa, without exposing the 
 delinquent to the degrading penalties of justice, he was decoyed 
 into this convent under a false pretext, and either plunged into 
 a perpetual dungeon, or privately hurried out of existence; 
 while the story of the statue was circulated by the monks, to 
 account for his sudden disappearance. The populace, how- 
 ever, are not to be cajoled out of a ghost story by any of 
 these plausible explanations; and the marble statue still 
 strides the stage, and Don Juan is still plunged into the in- 
 fernal regions, as an awful warning to all rake-helly young- 
 sters, in like case offending." 
 
 While my companion was relating these anecdotes, we had 
 entered the gate-way, traversed the exterior court-yard of the 
 convent, and made our way into a great interior court ; partly 
 surrounded by cloisters and dormitories, partly by chapels, 
 and having a large fountain in the centre. The pile had evi- 
 dently once been extensive and magnificent ; but it was for the 
 greater part in ruins. By the light of the stars, and of twink- 
 ling lamps placed here and there in the chapel 5 and corridors, 
 I could see that many of the columns and arches were broken ; 
 the walls were rent and riven ; while burned beams and rafters 
 showed the destructive effects of fire. The whole place had a 
 desolate air ; the night breeze rustled through grass and weeds 
 flaunting out of the crevices of the walls, or from the shat- 
 tered columns ; the bat flitted about the vaulted passages, and 
 the owl hooted from the ruined belfry. Never was any scene 
 more completely fitted for a ghost story. 
 
 While I was indulging in ]:»icturings of the fancy, proper to 
 such a place, the deep chaunt of the monks from the convent 
 church came swelling upon the ear. " It is the vesper service, " 
 said my companion ; "follow me." 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 73 
 
 Leading the way across the court of the cloisters, and 
 through one or two ruined passages, he reached the distant 
 portal of the church, and pushing open a wicket, cut in the 
 folding-doors, we found ourselves in the deep arched vestibule 
 of the sacred edifice. To our left was the choir, forming one 
 end of the church, and having a low vaulted ceiling, which 
 gave it the look of a cavern. About this were ranged the 
 monks, seated on stools, and chaunting from immense books 
 placed on music-stands, and having the notes scored in such 
 gigantic characters as to be legible from every part of the choir. 
 A few lights on these music-stands dimly illumined the choir, 
 gieained on the shaven heads of the monks, and threw their 
 shadows on the walls. They were gross, blue-bearded, bullet- 
 headed men, with bass voices, of deep metaUic tone, that re- 
 verberated out of the cavernous choir. 
 
 To our right extended the great body of the church. It was 
 spacious and lofty ; some of the side chapels had gilded grates, 
 and were decorated with images and paintings, representing 
 the sufferings of our Saviour. Aloft was a great painting by 
 Murillo, but too much in the dark to be distinguished. The 
 gloom of the whole church was but faintly relieved by the re- 
 flected light from the choir, and the glimmering here and there 
 of a votive lamp before the shrine of a saint. 
 
 As my eye roamed about the shadowy pile, it was struck 
 with the dimly seen figure of a man on horseback, near a dis- 
 tant altar. I touched my companion, and pointed to it: " The 
 spectre statue !" said I. 
 
 "No," replied he; " it is the statue of the blessed St. lago; 
 the statue of the commander was in the cemetery of the con- 
 vent, and was destroyed at the time of the conflagration. 
 But," added he, "as I see you take a proper interest in these 
 kind of stories, come with me to the other end of the church, 
 where our whisperings will not disturb these holy fathers at 
 their devotions, and I will tell you another story, that has been 
 current for some generations in our city, by which you wUl 
 find that Don Juan is not the only libertine that has been the 
 object of supernatural castigation in Seville." 
 
 I accordingly followed him with noiseless tread to the farther 
 part of the church, where we took our seats on the steps of an 
 altar, opposite to the suspicious-looking figure on horseback, 
 and there, in a low, mysterious voice, he related to me the fol- 
 lowing narrative : 
 
 "There was once in Seville a gay young fellow, Don Manuel 
 
74 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 do Manara by name, who having come to a great estate by the 
 death of his father, gave the reins to his passions, and plunged 
 into all kinds of dissipation. Like Don Juan, whom he seemed 
 to have taken for a model, he became famous for his enter- 
 prises among the fair sex, and was the cause of doors being 
 barred and windows grated with more than usual strictness. 
 All in vain. No balcony was too high for him to scale ; no bolt 
 nor bar was proof against his efforts ; and his very name was a 
 word of terror to all the jealous husbands and cautious fathers 
 or Seville. His exploits extended to country as well as city ; 
 and in the village dependent on his castle, scarce a rural beauty 
 was safe from his arts and enterprises. 
 
 "As he was one day ranging the streets of Seville, with sev 
 eral of his dissolute companions, he beheld a procession about 
 to enter the gate of a convent. In the centre was a young fe- 
 male arrayed in the dress of a bride ; it was a novice, who, hav- 
 ing accomplished her year of probation, was about to take the 
 black veil, and consecrate herself to heaven. The companions 
 of Don Manuel drew back, out of respect to the sacred pageant ; 
 but he pressed forward, with liis usual impetuosity, to gain a 
 near view of the novice. He almost jostled her, in passing 
 thi'ough the portal of the church, when, on her turning round, 
 he beheld the countenance of a beautiful village girl, who had 
 been the object of his ardent pursuit, but who had been spirited 
 secretly out of his reach by her relatives. She recognized him 
 at the same moment, and fainted ; but was borne Avithin the 
 grate of the chapel. It was supposed the agitation of the cere- 
 mony and the heat of the throng had overcome her. After 
 some time, the curtain which hung within the grate was drawn 
 up : there stood the novice, pale and trembling, surrounded by 
 the abbess and the nuns. The ceremony proceeded ; the crown 
 of flowers was taken from her head ; she was shorn of her silken 
 tresses, received the black veil, and went passively through 
 the remainder of the ceremony. 
 
 "Don Manuel de Manara, on the contrary, was roused to 
 fury at the sight of this sacrifice. His passion, whicn 
 had almost faded away in the absence of the object, now 
 glowed with tenfold ardor, being inflamed by the difficulties 
 placed in his way, and piqued by the measures which had been 
 taken to defeat him. Never had the object of his pursuit ap- 
 peared so lovely and desirable as when witliin the grate of the 
 convent ; and he swore to have her, in defiance of heaven and 
 earth. By dint of bribing a female servant of the convent he 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 75 
 
 contrived to convey letters to her, pleading his passion in the 
 most eloquent and seductive terms. How successful they were 
 is only matter of conjecture ; certain it is, he imdertook one 
 night to scale the garden wall of the convent, either to carry 
 off the nun, or gain admission to her cell. Just as he was 
 mounting the wall he was suddenly plucked back, and a 
 stranger, muffled in a cloak, stood before him. 
 
 ' ' ' Kash man, forbear ! ' cried he : 'is it not enough to have 
 violated all human ties? Wouldst thou steal a bride from 
 heaven ! ' 
 
 * ' The sword of Don Manuel had been drawn on the instant, 
 and furious at this interruption, he passed it through the body 
 of the stranger, who fell dead at his feet. Hearing approach- 
 ing footsteps, he fled the fatal spot, and mounting his horse, 
 which was at hand, retreated to his estate in the country, at no 
 great distance from Seville. Here he remained throughout the 
 next day, full of horror and remorse ; dreading lest he should 
 be known as the murderer of the deceased, and fearing each 
 moment the arrival of the officers of justice. 
 
 ' ' The day passed, however, without molestation ; and, as the 
 evening approached, unable any longer to endure this state of 
 uncertainty and apprehension, he ventured back to Seville. 
 Irresistibly his footsteps took the direction of the convent ; but 
 he paused and hovered at a distance from the scene of blood. 
 Several persons were gathered round the place, one of whom 
 was busy nailing something against the convent wall. After a 
 while they dispersed, and one passed near to Don Manuel. The 
 latter addressed him, with hesitating voice. 
 
 " ' Senor,' said he, ' may I ask the reason of yonder throng? ' 
 
 " ' A cavalier,' replied the other, ' has been murdered.' 
 
 " ' Murdered ! ' echoed Don Manuel ; ' and can you tell me his 
 name? ' 
 
 " ' Don Manuel de Manara,' replied the stranger, and passed 
 on. 
 
 ' ' Don Manuel was startled at this mention of his own name ; 
 especially when applied to the murdered man. He ventured, 
 when it was entirely deserted, to approach the fatal spot. A 
 small cross had been nailed against the wall, as is customary in 
 Spain, to mark the place where a murder has been committed ; 
 and just below it he read, by the twinkling light of a lamp: 
 ' Here was murdered Don Manuel de Manara. Pray to God for 
 his soul ! ' 
 
 " Still more confounded and perplexed by this inscription, he 
 
76 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 wandered about the streets until the night was far advanced, and 
 all was still and lonely. As he entered the principal square, 
 the hght of torches suddenly broke on him, and he beheld a 
 grand funeral procession moving across it. There was a great 
 train of i^riests, and many persons of dignified appearance, in 
 ancient Spanish dresses, attending as mourners, none of whom 
 he knew. Accosting a servant who followed in the train, he 
 demanded the name of the defunct. 
 
 " 'Don Manuel de Manara,' was the reply; and it went cold 
 to liis heart. He looked, and indeed beheld the armorial bear- 
 ings of his family emblazoned on the funeral escutcheons. 
 Yet not one of his family was to be seen among the mourners. 
 The mystery was more and more incomprehensible. 
 
 " He followed the procession as it moved on to the cathedral. 
 The bier was deposited before the high altar ; the funeral ser- 
 vice was commenced, and the grand organ began to peal 
 through the vaulted aisles. 
 
 "Again the youth ventured to question this awful pageant. 
 ' Father, ' said he, with trembling voice, to one of the priests, 
 ' who is this you are about to inter? ' 
 
 " ' Don Manuel de Manara! ' rephed the priest. 
 
 ' ' ' Father, ' cried Don Manuel, impatiently, ' you are deceived. 
 This is some imposture. Know that Don Manuel de Manara is 
 alive and well, and now stands before you. I am Don Manuel 
 de Manara ! ' 
 
 " ' Avaunt, rash youth! ' cried the priest; 'know that Don 
 Manuel de Manara is dead ! — is dead ! — is dead ! — and we are all 
 souls from purgatory, his deceased relatives and ancestors, and 
 others that have been aided by masses of his family, who are 
 permitted to come here and pray for the repose of his soul ! ' 
 
 ' ' Don Manuel cast round a fearf iil glance upon the assem- 
 blage, in antiquated Spanish garbs, and recognized in their pale 
 and ghastly countenances the portraits of many an ancestor 
 that hung in the family picture-gallery. He now lost all self- 
 ' command, rushed up to the bier, and beheld the counterpart 
 of himself, but in the fixed and hvid lineaments of death. 
 Just at that moment the whole choir burst forth with a ' Ee- 
 quiescat in pace,' that shook the vaults of the cathedral. Don 
 Manuel sank senseless on the pavement. He was found there 
 early the next morning by the sacristan, and conveyed to his 
 home. When sufficiently recovered, he sent for a friar, and 
 made a full confession of all that had happened. 
 
 " ' My son,' said the friar, * ail this is a miracle and a mys- 
 
DON JUAN, 
 
 n 
 
 tery, intended for thy conversion and salvation. The corpse 
 thou hast seen was a token that thou hadst died to sin and the 
 world ; take warning by it, and henceforth live to righteous- 
 ness and heaven ! ' 
 
 "Don Manuel did take warning by it. Guided by the coun- 
 sels of the worthy friar, he disposed of all his temporal affairs ; 
 dedicated the greater part of his wealth to pious uses, espe- 
 cially to the performance of masses for souls in purgatory; 
 and finally, entering a convent, became one of the most zealous 
 and exemplary monks in Seville. " 
 
 While my companion was relating this story, my eyes wan- 
 dered, from time to time, about the dusky church. Methought 
 the burly countenances of the monks in their distant choir 
 assumed a pallid, ghastly hue, and then* deep metallic voices 
 had a sepulchral sound. By the time the story was ended, 
 they had ended their chant; and, extinguishing their lights, 
 glided one by one, like shadows, through a small door in the 
 side of the choir. A deeper gloom prevailed over the church ; 
 the figure opposite me on horseback grew more and more 
 spectral ; and I almost expected to see it bow its head. 
 
 "It is time to be off," said my companion, "unless we 
 intend to sup with the statue." 
 
 " I have no relish for such fare or such company," replied I; 
 and, f ollowmg my companion, we groped our way through the 
 mouldering cloisters. As we passed by the ruined cemetery, 
 keeping up a casual conversation by way of dispeUing the 
 loneliness of the scene, I called to mind the words of the poet : 
 
 The tombs 
 
 And monumental caves of death look cold. 
 And shoot a chilluess to my trembling heart! 
 Give me thy hand, and let me hear thj' voice; 
 Nay, speak— and let me hear thy voice; 
 My own affrights me with its echoes. 
 
 There wanted nothing but the marble statue of the commander 
 striding along the echoing cloisters to complete the haimted 
 scene. 
 
 Since that time I never fail to attend the theatre whenever 
 the story of Don Juan is represented, whether in pantomime 
 or opera. In the sepulchral scene, I feel myself qmte at home ; 
 and when the statue makes liis appearance, I greet him as an 
 old acquaintance. When the audience applaud, I look round 
 
78 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 upon them Avith a degree of compassion. Poor souls !" I say- 
 to myself, ''they think they are pleased; they think they 
 enjoy this piece, and yet they consider the whole as a fiction ! 
 How much more would they enjoy it, if hke me they knew it 
 to be true— and had seen the very place 
 
 BROEK: 
 
 OR THE DUTCH PARADISE. 
 
 It has long been a matter of discussion and controversy 
 among the pious and the learned, as to the situation of the 
 terrestrial paradise whence our first parents were exiled. 
 This question has been put to rest by certain of the faithful in 
 Holland, who have decided in favor of the village of Broek, 
 about six miles from Amsterdam. It may not, they observe, 
 correspond in all respects to the description of the Garden of 
 Eden, handed down from days of yore, but it comes nearer to 
 their ideas of a perfect paradise than any other place on earth. 
 
 This eulogium induced me to make some inquiries as to this 
 favored spot in the course of a sojourn at the city of Amster- 
 dam, and the information I procured fully justified the enthu- 
 siastic praises I had heard. The village of Broek is situated in 
 Waterland, in the midst of the greenest and richest pastures of 
 HoUand, I may say, of Europe. These pastures are the source 
 of its wealth, for it is famous for its dairies, and for those oval 
 cheeses which regale and perfume the whole civilized world. 
 The population consists of about six hundred persons, compris- 
 ing several families which have inhabited the place since time 
 immemorial, and have waxed rich on the products of their 
 meadows. They keep all their wealth among themselves, 
 intermarrying, and keeping all strangers at a wary distance. 
 They are a " hard money" people, and remarkable for turning 
 the penny the right way. It is said to have been an old rule, 
 established by one of the primitive financiers and legislators of 
 Broek, that no one should leave the village with more than six 
 guilders in his pocket, or return with less than ten ; a shrewd 
 regulation, well worthy the attention of modern pohtical 
 economists, who are so anxious to fix the balance of trade. 
 
 What, however, renders Broek so perfect an elysium in the 
 eyes of all true Hollanders, is the matchless height to which 
 
BROEK. 
 
 79 
 
 the spirit of cleanliness is carried there. It amounts almost to 
 a religion among the inhabitants, who pass the greater part of 
 their time rubbing and scrubbing, and painting and varnishing ; 
 each housewife vies with her neighbor in her devotion to the 
 scrubbing-brush, as zealous Catholics do in their devotion to 
 the cross ; and it is said a notable housewife of the place in 
 days of yore is held in pious remembrance, and almost canon- 
 ized as a saint, for having died of pure exhaustion and chagrin 
 in an ineffectual attempt to scour a black man white. 
 
 These particulars awakened my ardent curiosity to see a 
 place wliich I pictured to myself the very fountain-head of 
 certain hereditary habits and customs prevalent among the 
 descendants of the original Dutch settlers of my native' State. 
 I accordingly lost no time in performing a pilgrimage to Broek. 
 
 Before I reached the place I beheld symptoms of the tranquil 
 character of its inhabitants. A Uttle clump-built boat was in 
 full sail along the lazy bosom of a canal, but its sail consisted 
 of the blades of two paddles stood on end, while the navigator 
 sat steering with a third paddle in the stern, crouched down 
 like a toad, with a slouched hat drawn over his eyes. I 
 presumed him to be some nautical lover on the way to his 
 mistress. After proceeding a little farther I came in sight of 
 the harbor or port of destination of this drowsy navigator. 
 This was the Broeken-Meer, an artificial basin, or sheet of 
 olive-green water, tranquil as a mill-pond. On this the village 
 of Broek is situated, and the borders are laboriously decorated 
 with flower-beds, box-trees clipped into all kinds of ingenious 
 shapes and fancies, and little "lust" houses or pavilions. 
 
 I alighted outside of the village, for no horse nor vehicle is 
 permitted to enter its precincts, lest it should cause defilement 
 of the well-scoured pavements. Shaking the dust off my feet, 
 therefore, I prepared to enter, with due reverence and circum- 
 spection, this sanctum sanctorum of Dutch cleanliness. I 
 entered by a narrow street, paved with yellow bricks, laid 
 edgewise, so clean that one might eat from them. Indeed, 
 they were actually worn deep, not by the tread of feet, but by 
 the friction of the scrubbing-brush. 
 
 The houses were built of wood, and all appeared to have been 
 freshly painted, of green, yellow, and other bright colors. 
 They were separated from each other by gardens and orchards, 
 and stood at some httle distance from the street, with wide 
 areas or courtyards, paved in mosaic, with variegated stones, 
 polished by frequent rubbing. The areas were divided from 
 
80 
 
 TlIK CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 the street by curiously- wrought railings, or balustrades, of iron, 
 surmounted with brass and copper balls, scoured into dazzling 
 eUulgence. The very trunks of the trees in front of the 
 houses were by the same process made to look as if they had 
 been varnished. The porches, doors, and window-frames of 
 the houses were of exotic woods, curiously carved, and polished 
 hke costly furniture. The front doors are never opened, 
 excepting on christenings, marriages, or funerals ; on all ordi- 
 nary occasions, visitors enter by the back door. In former 
 tiines, persons Av^hen admitted had to put on shppers, but this 
 oriental ceremony is no longer insisted upon. 
 
 A poor devil Frenchman who attended upon me as cicerone, 
 boasted with some degree of exultation, of a triumph of his 
 countrymen over the stern regulations of the place. During 
 the time that Holland was overrun by the armies of the French 
 Republic, a French general, surrounded by his whole etat 
 major, who had come from Amsterdam to view the wonders of 
 Broek, applied for admission at one of these taboo'd portals. 
 The reply was, that the o^ATier never received any one who did 
 not come introduced by some friend. "Very well," said the 
 general, "take my compliments to your master, and tell him I 
 will return here to-morrow with a company of soldiers, ^ pour 
 parler raison avec mon ami Hollandaisy Terrified at the 
 idea of having a company of soldiers billeted upon him, the 
 owner threw open his house, entertained the general and his 
 retinue with unwonted hospitality ; though it is said it cost the 
 family a month's scrubbing and scouring^ to restore all things 
 to exact order, after tliis military invasion. My vagabond in- 
 formant seemed to consider this one of the greatest victoiies of 
 the republic. 
 
 I walked about the place in mute wonder and admiration. 
 A dead stillness prevailed around, like that in the deserted 
 streets of Pompeii. No sign of life was to be seen, excepting 
 now and then a hand, and a long pipe, and an occasional puff 
 of smoke, out of the window of some "lust-haus" overhanging 
 a miniature canal; and on approaching a little nearer, the 
 periphery in profile of some robustious burgher. 
 
 Among the grand houses pointed out to me wei'e tliose of 
 Claes Bakker, and Cornelius Bakker, richly carved and 
 gilded, with flower gardens and clipped shrubberies : and that 
 of the Great Ditmus, who, my poor devil cicerone informed me, 
 in a whisper, was worth two millions ; all these were mansions 
 shut up from the world, and onlv kept to be cleaned. After 
 
BROEK. 
 
 81 
 
 having been conducted from one wonder to another of the 
 village, I was ushered by my guide into the grounds and 
 gardens of Mynheer Broekker, another mighty cheese-manu- 
 facturer, worth eighty thousand guilders a year. I had re- 
 peatedly been struck with the similarity of all that I had seen 
 in this amphibious little village, to the buildings and land- 
 scapes on Chinese platters and tea-pots ; but here I found the 
 similarity complete; for I was told that these gardens were 
 modelled upon Van Bramm's description of those of Yuen min 
 Yuen, in China. Here were serpentine walks, with trellised 
 borders; winding canals, with fanciful Chinese bridges; 
 flower-beds resembling huge baskets, with the flower of "love 
 hes bleeding" faUing over to the ground. But mostly had the 
 fancy of Mynheer Broekker been displayed about a stagnant 
 little lake, on which a corpulent httle pinnace lay at anchor. 
 On the border was a cottage, within which were a wooden man 
 and woman seated at table, and a wooden dog beneath, all the 
 size of life : on pressing a spring, the woman commenced spin- 
 ning, and the dog barked furiously. On the lake were wooden 
 swans, painted to the life; some floating, others on the nest 
 among the rushes; while a wooden sportsman, crouched 
 among the bushes, was preparing his gun to take deadly aim. 
 In another part of the garden was a dominie in his clerical 
 robes, with wig, pipe, and cocked hat ; and mandarins with 
 nodding heads, amid red lions, green tigers, and blue hares. 
 Last of all, the heathen deities, in wood and plaster, male and 
 female, naked and bare-faced as usual, and seeming to stare 
 with wonder at finding themselves in such strange company. 
 
 My shabby French guide, while he pointed out all these 
 mechanical marvels of the garden, was anxious to let me see 
 that he had too polite a taste to be pleased with them. At 
 every new nick-nack he would screw down his mouth, shrug 
 up his shoulders, take a pinch of snufl:, and exclaim: "i)Ia/o^, 
 Monsieur^ ces Hollandais sont forts pour ces hetises IdP'' 
 
 To attempt to gain admission to any of these stately abodes 
 was out of the question, ha-v^ng no company of soldiers to 
 enforce a solicitation. I was fortunate enough, however, 
 through the aid of my guide, to made my way into the 
 kitchen of the illustrious Ditmus, and I question whether the 
 parlor would have proved more worthy of observation. The 
 cook, a little wiry, hook-nosed woman, worn thin by incessant 
 action and friction, was bustling about among her kettles and 
 saucepans, with the scuUion at her heels, both clattering iu 
 
82 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 wooden shoes, which were as clean and white as the milk- 
 pails ; rows of vessels, of brass and copper, regiments of pewter 
 dishes, and portly porringers, gave resplendent evidence of the 
 intensity of their cleanliness ; the very trammels and hangers 
 in the fireplace were highly scoured, and the bmmished face of 
 the good Saint Nicholas shone forth from the iron plate of the 
 chimney-back. 
 
 Among the decorations of the kitchen was a printed sheet of 
 woodcuts, representing the various holiday customs of Hol- 
 land, with explanatory rhymes. Here I was dehghted to 
 recognize the joUities of New Year's Day; the festivities of 
 Paas and Pinkster, and all the other merry-makings handed 
 down in my native place from the earliest times of New Am- 
 sterdam, and which had been such bright spots in the year in 
 my childhood. I eagerly made myself master of this precious 
 document, for a trifling consideration, and bore it off as a 
 memento of the place ; though I question if, in so doing, I did 
 not carry off with me the whole current Hterature of Broek. 
 
 I must not omit to mention that this \dllage is the paradise 
 of cows as well as men ; indeed you would almost suppose the 
 cow to be as much an object of worship here, as the bull was 
 among the ancient Egyptians ; and well does she merit it, for 
 she is in fact the patroness of the place. The semae scrupulous 
 cleanliness, however, which pervades everything else, is mani- 
 fested in the treatment of this venerated animal. She is not 
 permitted to perambulate the place, but in winter, when she 
 forsakes the rich pasture, a well-built house is provided for 
 her, well painted, and maintained in the most perfect order. 
 Her stall is of ample dimensions; the fioor is scrubbed and 
 polished ; her hide is daily curried and brushed and sponged to 
 her heart's content, and her tail is daintily tucked up to the 
 ceiling, and decorated with a riband ! 
 
 On my way back through the village, I passed the house of 
 the prediger, or preacher ; a very comfortable mansion, which 
 led me to augur well of the state of religion in the village. On 
 inquiry, I was told that for a long time the inhabitants hved 
 in a great state of indifference as to religious matters : it was 
 in vain that their preachers endeavored to arouse their 
 thoughts as to a future state; the joys of heaven, as com- 
 monly depicted, were but Kttle to their taste. At length a 
 dominie appeared among them who struck out in a different 
 vein. He depicted the New Jerusalem as a place all smooth 
 and level; with beautiful dykes^^and ditches, and canals; and 
 
:SK HITCH m IN PARIS IN 1825. 
 
 83 
 
 houses all shining with paint and varnish, and glazed tiles; 
 and where there should never come horse, or ass, or cat, or 
 dog, or anything that could make noise or dirt; but there 
 should be nothing but rubbing and scrubbing, and washing 
 and painting, and gilding and varnishing, for ever and ever, 
 amen ! Since that time, the good housewives of Broek have all 
 turned their faces Zion-ward. 
 
 SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 
 
 FROM THE TRAVELLING NOTE-BOOK OF GEOFFREY CRAYON, 
 
 GENT. 
 
 A Parisian hotel is a street set on end, the grand staircase 
 forming the highway, and every floor a separate habitation. 
 Let me describe the one in which I am lodged, which may 
 serve as a specimen of its class. It is a huge quadrangular 
 pile of stone, built round a spacious paved court. The ground 
 floor is occupied by shops, magazines, and domestic offices. 
 Then comes the entresol^ with low ceihngs, short windows, 
 and dwarf chambers ; then succeed a succession of floors, or 
 stories, rising one above the other, to the number of Mahomet's 
 heavens. Each floor is like a distinct mansion, complete in 
 itself, with ante-chamber, saloons, dining and sleeping rooms, 
 kitchen, and other conveniences for the accommodation of a 
 family. Some floors are divided into two or more suites of 
 apartments. Each apartment has its main door of entrance, 
 opening upon the staircase, or landing-places, and locked like 
 a street door. Thus several families and numerous single per- 
 sons live under the same roof, totally independent of each 
 other, and may live so for years without holding more inter- 
 course than is kept up in other cities by residents in the same 
 street. 
 
 Like the great world, this little microcosm has its gradations 
 of rank and style and importance. The Premier^ or flrst floor, 
 with its grand saloons, lofty ceilings, and splendid furniture, 
 is decidedly the aristocratical part of the establishment. The 
 second floor is scarcely less aristocratical and magnificent ; the 
 other floors go on lessening in splendor as they gain in altitude, 
 and end with the attics, the region of petty tailors, clerks, and 
 
84 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 sewing girls. To make the filling up of the mansion com- 
 plete, every odd nook and corner is fitted up as a joli petit 
 appavtement a gar^on (a pretty little bachelor's apartment), 
 that is to say, some little dark inconvenient nestling-place for 
 a poor devil of a bachelor. 
 
 The whole domain is shut up from the street by a great 
 porte-cochere, or portal, calculated for the admission of car- 
 riages. This consists of two massy folding-doors, that swing 
 heavily open upon a spacious entrance, passing under the front 
 of the edifice into the court-ya.rd. On one side is a spacious 
 staircase leading to the upper apartments. Immediately with- 
 out the portal is the porter's lodge, a small room with one or 
 two bedrooms adjacent, for the accommodation of the con- 
 cierge, or porter, and his family. This is one of the most im- 
 portant functionaries of the hotel. He is, in fact, the Cerberus 
 of the establishment, and no one can pass in or out without his 
 knowledge and consent. The porte-cochere in general is fas- 
 tened by a sliding bolt, from which a cord or wire passes into 
 the porter's lodge. Whoever wishes to go out must speak to 
 the porter, who draws the bolt. A visitor from without gives 
 a single rap with the massive knocker ; the bolt is immediately 
 drawn, as if by an invisible hand; the door stands ajar, the 
 visitor pushes it open, and enters. A face presents itself at 
 the glass door of the porter's little chamber ; the stranger pro- 
 nounces the name of the person he comes to see. If the person 
 or family is of importance, occupying the first or second floor, 
 the porter sounds a bell once or twice, to give notice that a 
 visitor is at hand. The stranger in the meantime ascends the 
 great staircase, the highway common to all, and arrives at the 
 outer door, equivalent to a street door, of the suite of rooms 
 inhabited by his friends. Beside this hangs a bell-cord, with 
 which he rings for admittance. 
 
 When the family or person inquired for is of less importance, 
 or lives in some remote part of the mansion less easy to be 
 apprised, no signal is given. The applicant pronounces the 
 name at the porter's door, and is told, ^^Montez au troisieine, 
 au quatrieme ; sounez a la porte a droite, ou d gauche; 
 ("Ascend to the third or fourth story; ring the beU on the 
 right or left hand door, ") as the case may be. 
 
 The porter and his wife act as domestics to such of the ia- 
 mates of the mansion as do not keep servants ; making their 
 beds, arranging their rooms, lighting their fires, and doing 
 other menial offices, for which they receive a monthly stipend. 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 
 
 85 
 
 They are also in confidential intercourse with the servants of 
 the other inmates, and, having an eye on all the in- comers and 
 out-goers, are thus enabled, by hook and by crook, to learn the 
 secrets and domestic history of every member of the little ter- 
 ritory within the porte-cochere. 
 
 The porter's lodge is accordingly a great scene of gossip, 
 v>rhere all the private affairs of this interior neighborhood are 
 discussed. The court-yard, also, is an assembling place in the 
 evenings for the servants of the different families, and a sister- 
 hood of sewing girls from the entresols and the attics, to play 
 at various games, and dance to the music of their own songs, 
 and the echoes of their feet, at which assemblages the porter's 
 daughter takes the lead; a fresh, pretty, buxom girl, generally 
 called "Xa Petite,'^ though almost as tall as a grenadier. 
 These little evening gatherings, so characteristic of this gay 
 country, are countenanced by the various families of the man- 
 sion, who often look down from their windows and balconies, 
 on moonhght evenings, and enjoy the simple revels of their 
 domestics. I must observe, however, that the hotel I am 
 describing is rather a quiet, retired on-^, where most of the 
 inmates are permanent residents from year to year, so that 
 there is more of the spirit of neighborhood than in the bust- 
 ling, fashionable hotels in the gay parts of Paris, which are 
 continually changing their inhabitants. 
 
 MY FRENCH NEIGHBOR. 
 
 I OFTEN amuse myself by watching from my window (which, 
 by the bye, is tolerably elevated), the movements of the teem- 
 ing little world below me ; and as I am on sociable terms with 
 the porter and his wife, I gather from them, as they light my 
 fire, or serve my breakfast, anecdotes of all my fellow lodgers. 
 I have been somewhat curious in studying a little antique 
 Frenchman, who occupies one of the jolie chambres a gargon 
 already mentioned. He is one of those superannuated veterans 
 who flourished before the revolution, and have weathered all 
 the storms of Paris, in consequence, very probably, of being 
 fortunately too insignificant to attract attention. He has a 
 small income, which he manages with the skill of a French 
 economist; appropriating so much for his lodgings, so much 
 for his meals; so much for his visits to St. Cloud and Yer- 
 sailles, and so much for his seat at the theatre. He has resided 
 in the hotel for years, and always in the same chamber, wliich 
 
86 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 he furnishes at his own expense. The decorations of the room 
 mark his various ages. There are some gallant pictures which 
 he hung up in his younger days ; with a portrait of a lady of 
 rank, whom he speaks tenderly of, dressed in the old French 
 taste ; and a pretty opera dancer, pirouetting in a hoop petti- 
 coat, who lately died at a good old age. In a comer of this 
 picture is stuck a prescription for rheumatism, and below it 
 i^tands an easy-chair. He has a small parrot at the window, 
 to amuse him when witliin doors, and a pug dog to accompany 
 him in his daily peregrinations. While I am writing he is 
 crossing the court to go out. He is attired in his best coat, of 
 sky-blue, and is doubtless bound for the Tuileries. His hair is 
 dressed in the old style, with powdered ear-locks and a pig- tail. 
 His little dog trips after him, sometimes on four legs, some- 
 times on three, and looking as if his leather small-clothes were 
 too tight for him. Now the old gentleman stops to have a 
 word with an old crony who lives in the entresol, and is jusc 
 returning from his promenade. Now they take a pinch of 
 snuff together; now they pull out huge red cotton handker- 
 chiefs (those "flags of abomination," as they have well been 
 called) and blow their noses most sonorously. Now they turn 
 to make remarks upon then* two little dogs, who are exchang- 
 ing the morning's salutation ; now they part, and my old gen- 
 tleman stops to have a passing word with the porter's wife; 
 and now he sallies forth, and is fairly launched upon the town 
 for the day. 
 
 No man is so methodical as a complete idler, and none so 
 scrupulous in measurmg and portioning out his time as he 
 whose time is worth nothing. The old gentleman in question 
 has his exact hour for rising, and for shaving himself by a 
 small mirror hung against his casement. He salhes forth at a 
 certain hour every morning to take his cup of coffee and his 
 roll at a certain cafe, where he reads the papers. He has been 
 a regular admirer of the lady who presides at the bar, and 
 always stops to have a little badinage vnth. her en j^ctssant. 
 He has his regular walks on the Boulevards and in the Palais 
 Royal, where he sets his watch by the petard fired off by the 
 sun at mid-day. He has his daily resort in the Garden of the 
 Tuileries, to meet with a knot of veteran idlers like hunself, 
 who talk on pretty much the same subjects whenever they 
 meet. He has been present at all the sights and shows and 
 rejoicings of Paris for the last fifty yeai*s; has witnessed the 
 great events of the revolution! the guillotining of the king and 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 18.?5. 
 
 87 
 
 queen ; the coronation of Bonaparte ; the capture of Paris, and 
 the restoration of the Bourbons. All these he speaks of with 
 the coolness of a theatrical critic ; and I question whether he 
 has not been gratified by each in its turn ; not from any inher- 
 ent love of tumult, but from that insatiable appetite for spec- 
 tacle which prevails among the inhabitants of this metropolis, 
 I have been amused with a farce, in which one of these syste- 
 matic old trifiers is represented. He sings a song detailing his 
 whole day's round of insignificant occupations, and goes to bed 
 dehghted with the idea that his next day will be an exact repe- 
 tition of the same routine : 
 
 " Je me couche le soir, 
 Enchante de pouvoir • 
 Recommencer mou train 
 Le lendemain 
 Matin." 
 
 TEE ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS. 
 
 In another part of the hotel a handsome suite of rooms is 
 occupied by an old Enghsh gentleman, of great probity, some 
 understanding, and very considerable crustiness, who has come 
 to France to live economically. He has a very fair property, 
 but his wife, being of that blessed kind compared in Scripture 
 to the fruitful vine, has overwhelmed him with a family of 
 buxom daughters, who hang clustering about him, ready to be 
 gathered by any hand. He is seldom to be seen in pubhc with- 
 out one hanging on each arm, and smihng on all the world, 
 while his own mouth is drawn down at each corner like a mas- 
 tiff's with internal growling at everything about him. He ad- 
 heres rigidly to Enghsh fashion in dress, and trudges about in 
 long gaiters and broad-brimmed hat; while his daughters 
 almost overshadow him with feathers, flowers, and French 
 bonnets. 
 
 He contrives to keep up an atmosphere of English habits, 
 opinions, and prejudices, and to carry a semblance of London 
 into the very heart of Paris. His mornings are spent at Gahg- 
 nani's news-room, where he forms one of a knot of inveterate 
 quidnuncs, who read the same articles over a dozen times 
 in a dozen different papers. He generally dines in company 
 with some of his own countrymen, and they have what is 
 called a "comfortable sitting" after dinner, in the English 
 fashion, drinking wine, discussing the news of the London 
 papers, and canvassing the French character, the French me- 
 
88 
 
 TllIC CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 tropolis, and the French revolution, endin.c: with a unanimous 
 admission of English courage, English morality, English cook- 
 ery, English wealth, the magnitude of London, and the ingrati- 
 tude of the French. 
 
 His evenings are chiefly spent at a club of his countrymen, 
 where the London papers are taken. Sometimes his daughters 
 entice him to the theatres, but not often. He abuses French 
 tragedy, as all fustian and bombast. Talma as a ranter, and 
 Duchesnois as a mere termagant. It is true his ear is not suffi- 
 ciently familiar with the language to understand French verse, 
 and he generally goes to sleep during the performance. The 
 wit of the French comedy is flat and pointless to him. He 
 would not give one of Munden's wry faces, or Listen's inex- 
 pressible looks, for the whole of it. 
 
 He will not admit that Paris has any advantage over London. 
 The Seine is a muddy rivulet in comparison with the Thames ; 
 the West End of London surpasses the finest parts of the 
 French capital; and on some one's observing that there was 
 a very tliick fog out of doors: "Pish!" said he, crustily, "it's 
 nothing to the fogs we have in London." 
 
 He has infinite trouble in bringing his table into anything 
 like conformity to English rule. With his hquors, it is true, 
 he is tolerably successful. He procures London porter, and a 
 stock of port and sherry, at considerable expense ; for he ob- 
 serves that he cannot stand those cursed thin French wines, 
 they dilute Ms blood so much as to give him the rheimiatism. 
 As to their white wines, he stigmatizes them as mere substitutes 
 for cider; and as to claret, why "it would be port if it could." 
 He has continual quarrels with liis French cook, whom he 
 renders wretched by insisting on his conforming to ]\Irs. Glass ; 
 for it is easier to convert a Frenchman from his religion than 
 his cookery. The poor fellow, by dint of repeated efforts, once 
 brought himself to serve up ros hif sufficiently raw to suit what 
 he considered the cannibal taste of his master ; but then he 
 could not refrain, at the last moment, adding some exquisite 
 sauce, that put the old gentleman in a fury. 
 
 He detests wood-fires, and has procured a quantity of coal ; 
 but not having a grate, he is obliged to burn it on the hearth. 
 Here he sits poking and stirring the fire with one end of a tongs, 
 while the room is as murky as a smithy ; raihng at French 
 chimneys, French masons, and French architects; giving a 
 poke at the end of every sentence, as though he were stirring 
 up the very bowels of the dehnquents he is anathematizing. 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 
 
 89 
 
 He lives in a state militant with inanimate objects around him ; 
 gets into high dudgeon with doors and casements, because they 
 will not come under English law, and has implacable feuds 
 with sundry refractory pieces of furniture. Among these is 
 one in particular with which he is sure to have a high quarrel 
 every time he goes to dress. It is a commode, one of those 
 smooth, polished, plausible pieces of French furniture, that 
 have the perversity of five hundred devils. Each drawer has a 
 will of its own ; will open or not, just as the whim takes it, and 
 sets lock and key at defiance. Sometimes a drawer will refuse 
 to yield to either persuasion or force, and will part with both 
 handles rather than yield ; another will come out in the most 
 coy and coquettish manner imaginable; elbowing along, zig- 
 zag ; one corner retreating as the other advances ; making a 
 thousand difficulties and objections at every move ; until the 
 old gentleman, out of all patience, gives a sudden jerk, and 
 brings drawer and contents into the ixdddle of the floor. 
 His hostility to this unlucky piece of furniture increases every 
 day, as- if incensed that it does not grow better. He is hke the 
 fretful invahd who cursed his bed, that the longer he lay the 
 harder it grew. The only benefit he has derived from the 
 quarrel is, that it has furnished him with a crusty joke, which 
 he utters on all occasions. He swears that a French commode 
 is the most incommodious thing in existence, and that although 
 the nation cannot make a joint-stool that will stand steady, yet 
 they are always talking of everything's being perfectionee. 
 
 His servants understand his humor, and avail themselves of 
 it. He was one day disturbed by a pertinacious rattling and 
 shaking at one of the doors, and bawled out in an angry tone 
 to know the cause of the disturbance. "Sir," said the foot- 
 man, testily, " it s this confounded French lock !" "Ah !" said 
 the old gentleman, pacified by this hit at the nation, "I 
 thought there was something French at the bottom of it 1" 
 
 ENOLISn AND FRENCH CHARACTER. 
 
 As I am a mere looker-on in Europe, and hold myself ag 
 much as possible aloof from its quarrels and prejudices, I feel 
 something like one overlooking a game, who, without any 
 great skill of his own, can occasionally perceive the blunders 
 of much abler players. This neutrahty of feeling enables me 
 to enjoy the contrasts of character presented in tliis time of 
 general peace, when the various people of Europe, who have so 
 
90 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 long been sundered by wars, are brought together and placed 
 side by side in this great gathering-place of nations. No 
 greater contrast, however, is exhibited than that of the 
 French and English. The peace has deluged this gay capital 
 with English visitors of all ranks and conditions. They 
 throng every place of curiosity and amusement ; fill the pub- 
 lic gardens, the galleries, the cafes, saloons, theatres; always 
 herding together, never associating with the French. The 
 two nations are hke two threads of different colors, tangled 
 together but never blended. 
 
 In fact, they present a continual antithesis, and seem to value 
 themselves upon being unlike each other ; yet each have their 
 peculiar merits, which should entitle them to each other's 
 esteem. The French intellect is quick and active. It flashes 
 its way into a subject with the rapidity of lightning ; seizes 
 upon remote conclusions with a sudden bound, and its deduc- 
 tions are almost intuitive. The English intellect is less rapid, 
 but more persevering ; less sudden, but more sure in its deduc- 
 tions. The quickness and mobihty of the French enable them 
 to find enjoyment in the multiplicity of sensations. They 
 speak and act more from immediate impressions than from 
 reflection and meditation. They are therefore more social and 
 com.municative ; more fond of society, and of places of public 
 resort and amusement. An Englishman is more reflective in 
 his habits. He lives in the world of his own thoughts, and 
 seems more seK-existent and self-dependent. He loves the 
 quiet of his own apartment ; even when abroad, he in a man- 
 ner makes a httle solitude around him, by his silence and 
 reserve; he moves about shy and sohtary, and as it were 
 buttoned up, body and soul. 
 
 The French are great optimists ; they seize upon every good 
 as it flies, and revel in the passing pleasure. The Englishman 
 is too apt to neglect the present good, in preparing against the 
 possible evil. However adversities may lower, let the sun 
 shine but for a moment, and forth salHes the mercurial French- 
 man, in holiday dress and holiday spirits, gay as a butterfly, 
 as though his sunshine were perpetual ; but let the sun beam 
 never so brightly, so there be but a cloud in the horizon, the 
 wary Englishman ventures forth distrustfully, with his um- 
 brella in his hand. 
 
 The Frenchman has a wonderful facihty at turning small 
 things to advantage. No one can be gay and luxurious on 
 smaller means ; no one requires less expense to be happy. He 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1835. 
 
 91 
 
 practises a kind of gilding in his style of living, and hammers 
 out every guinea into gold leaf. The Englishman, on the con- 
 trary, is expensive in his habits, and expensive in his enjoy- 
 ments. He values everything, whether useful or ornamental, 
 by what it costs. He has no satisfaction in show, unless it be 
 solid and complete. Everything goes with him by the square 
 foot. Whatever display he makes, the depth is sure to equal 
 ohe surface. 
 
 The Frenchman's habitation, hke himself, is open, cheerfiU, 
 bustling, and noisy. He lives in a part of a great hotel, with 
 . \vide portal, paved court, a spacious dirty stone staircase, and 
 a family on every floor. All is clatter and chatter. He is good 
 humored and talkative with his servants, sociable with his 
 neighbors, and complaisant to all the world. Anybody has 
 access to himself and his apartments; his very bed-room is 
 open to visitors, whatever may be its state of confusion ; and 
 all this not from any pecuharly hospitable feehng, but from 
 that communicative habit which predominates over his char- 
 acter. 
 
 The Englishman, on the contrary, ensconces himself in a snug 
 brick mansion, which he has all to himself; locks the front 
 door ; puts broken bottles along his walls, and spring-g-uns and 
 man-traps in his gardens; shrouds himself with trees and 
 window-curtains; exults in his quiet and privacy, and seems 
 disposed to keep out noise, daylight, and company. His house, 
 like liimself , has a reserved, inhospitable exterior ; yet whoever 
 gains admittance is apt to find a warm heart and warm fireside 
 within. 
 
 The French excel in wit, the English in humor ; the French 
 have gayer fancy, the English richer imagination. The former 
 are full of sensibility ; easily moved, and prone to sudden and 
 great excitement; but their excitement is not durable; the 
 EngHsh are more phlegmatic ; not so readily affected, but capa- 
 ble of being aroused to great enthusiasm. The faults of these 
 opposite temperaments are that the vivacity of the French is 
 apt to sparkle up and be frothy, the gravity of the English to 
 settle down and grow muddy. When the two characters can 
 be fixed in a medium, the French kept from effervescence and 
 the English from stagnation, both will be found excellent. 
 
 This contrast of character may also be noticed in the great 
 concerns of the two nations. The ardent Frenchman is all for 
 mihtary renown ; he fights for glory, that is to say for success 
 in arms. For, provided the national flag is victorious, he cares 
 
92 
 
 THE CRA YON PAPERS. 
 
 little about the expense, the injustice, or the inutility of the 
 war. It is wonderful how the poorest Frenchman will revel on 
 a triumphant bulletin ; a great victory is meat and drink to 
 liini ; and at the sight of a military sovereign, bringing home 
 captured cannon and captured standards, he throws up his 
 greasy cap in the air, and is ready to jump out of his wooden 
 shoes for joy. 
 
 John Bull, on the contrary, is a reasoning, considerate per- 
 son. If he does wrong, it is in the most rational way imagin- 
 able. He fights because the good of the world requires it. He 
 is a moral person, and makes war upon his neighbor for the 
 mamtenance of peace and good order, and sound principles. 
 He is a money-making personage, and fights for the prosperity 
 of commerce and manufactm-es. Thus the two nations have 
 been fighting, time out of mind, for glory and good. The 
 French, in pursuit of glory, have had their capital twice taken ; 
 and John in pursuit of good, has run himself over head and 
 ears in debt. 
 
 THE TUILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 I HAVE sometimes fancied I could discover national charac- 
 teristics in national edifices. In the Chateau of the Tuileries, 
 for instance, I perceive the same jumble of contrarieties that 
 marks the French character ; the same whimsical mixtiu"e of 
 the great and the httle ; the splendid and the paltry, the sub- 
 lime and the grotesque. On visiting this famous pile, the first 
 thing that strikes both eye and ear is military display. The 
 courts glitter with steel-clad soldiery, and resound with the 
 tramp of horse, the roll of drum, and the bray of trumpet. 
 Dismounted guardsmen patrol its arcades, with loaded carbines, 
 jinghng spurs, and clanking sabres. Gigantic grenadiers are 
 posted about its staircases: young officers of the guards loU 
 from the balconies, or lounge in groups upon the terraces ; and 
 the gleam of bayonet from window to window, shows that 
 sentinels are pacing up and down the corridors and ante- 
 chambers. The first floor is brilliant with the splendors of a 
 court. French taste has tasked itself in adorning the sump- 
 tuous suites of apartments ; nor are the gilded chapel and the 
 splendid theatre forgotten, where piety and pleasure are next- 
 door neighbors, and harmonize together with perfect French 
 hienseance. 
 
 Mingled up with all this regal and military magnificence, is 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 
 
 93 
 
 a world of whimsical and makeshift detail. A great part of 
 the huge edifice is cut up into little chambers and nesthng- 
 places for retainers of the court, dependants on retainers, and 
 hangers-on of dependants. Some are squeezed into narrow 
 entresols, those low, dark, intermediate shces of apartments 
 between floors, the inhabitants of which seem shoved in edge- 
 ways, like books between narrow shelves ; others are perched 
 like swallows, undes the eaves ; the high roofs, too, which are 
 as tall and steep as a French cocked-hat, have rows of little 
 dormer windows, tier above tier, just large enough to admit 
 light and air for some dormitory, and to enable its occupant 
 to peep out at the sky. Even to the very ridge of the roof, 
 may be seen here and there one of these air-holes, with a stove- 
 pipe beside it, to carry off the smoke from the handful of fuel 
 with which its weazen-faced tenant simmers his demi-tasse of 
 coffee. 
 
 On approaching the palace from the Pont Royal, you take in 
 at a glance all the various strata of inhabitants ; the garreteer 
 in the roof ; the retainer in the entresol ; the courtiers at the 
 casements of the royal apartments ; while on the ground-floor 
 a steam of savory odors and a score or two of cooks, in white 
 caps, bobbing their heads about the windows, betray that 
 scientific and all-important laboratory, the Royal Kitchen. 
 
 Go into the grand ante-chamber of the royal apartments on 
 Sunday and see the mixture of Old and New France ; the old 
 emigres, returned with the Bourbons ; little withered, spindle- 
 shanked old noblemen, clad in court dresses, that figured in 
 these saloons before the revolution, and have been carefully 
 treasured up during their exile ; with the solitaii^es and ailes de 
 pigeon of former days ; and the court swords strutting out be- 
 hind, like pins stuck through dry bettles. See them haunting 
 the scenes of their former splendor, in hopes of a restitution of 
 estates, like ghosts haunting the vicinity of buried treasure ; 
 while around them you see the Young France, that have grown 
 up in the fighting school of Napoleon ; all equipped en militaire; 
 tall, hardy, frank, vigorous, sun-burned, fierce-whiskered; 
 with tramping boots, towering crests, and glittering breast- 
 plates. 
 
 It is incredible the number of ancient and hereditary feeders 
 on royalty said to be housed in this establishment. Indeed all 
 the royal palaces abound with noble families returned from 
 exile, and who have nestling-places allotted them while they 
 await the restoration of their estates, or the much-talked-of 
 
94 
 
 Tllli CRAVO^V PAPERS. 
 
 law, indemnity. Some of them have fine quarters, but poor 
 living. Some families have but five or six hundred fi-ancs a 
 year, and all their retinue consists of a servant woman. With 
 all this, they maintain their old aristocratical hauteur^ look 
 down with vast contempt upon the opulent f amihes which have 
 risen since the revolution ; stigmatize them all as parvenus, or 
 upstai-ts, and refuse to visit them. 
 
 In regarding the exterior of the Tuileries, with all its out- 
 ward signs of internal populousness, I have often thought 
 what a rare sight it would be to see it suddenly unroofed, and 
 all its nooks and corners laid open to the day. It would be 
 like turning up the stump of an old tree, and dislodging the 
 w^orld of grubs, and ants, and beetles lodged beneath. Indeed 
 there is a scandalous anecdote current, that in the time of one 
 of the petty plots, when petards were exploded under the win- 
 dows of the Tuileries, the police made a sudden investigation 
 of the palace at four o'clock in the morning, when a scene of 
 the most whimsical confusion ensued. Hosts of supernume- 
 rary inhabitants were found foisted into the huge edifice; 
 every rat-hole had its occupant; and places which had been 
 considered as tenanted only by spiders, were found crowded 
 with a surreptitious population. It is added, that many ludi- 
 crous accidents occurred ; great scampermg and slamming of 
 doors, and whisking away in night-gowns and slippers; and 
 several persons, who were found by accident in their neigh- 
 bors' chambers, evinced indubitable astonishment at the cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 As I have fancied I could read the French character in the 
 national palace of the Tuileries, so I have pictured to myself 
 some of the traits of John Bull in his royal abode of Windsor 
 Castle. The Tuileries, outwardly a peaceful palace, is in effect 
 a swaggering military hold ; while the old castle, on the con- 
 trary, in spite of its bullying look, is completely under petti- 
 coat government. Every comer and nook is built up into 
 some snug, cosy nestling-place, some "procreant cradle," not 
 tenanted by meagre expectants or whiskered warriors, but by 
 sleek placemen; knowing reahzers of present pay and present 
 pudding; who seem placed there not to kill and destroy, but 
 to breed and multiply. Nursery -maids and children shine 
 with rosy faces at the windows, and swarm about the courts 
 and terraces. The very soldiers have a pacific look, and when 
 off duty may be seen loitering about the place with the nursery- 
 maids ; not making love to them in the gay gallant style of tho 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 
 
 95 
 
 French soldiery, but with infinite bonhomie aiding them to 
 take care of the broods of children. 
 
 Though the old castle is in decay, everything about it thrives ; 
 the very crevices of the walls are tenanted by swallows, rooks, 
 and pigeons, all sure of quiet lodgment; the ivy strikes its 
 roots deep in the fissures, and flourishes about the mouldering 
 tower.* Thus it is with honest John; according to his own 
 account, he is ever going to ruin, yet everything that hves on 
 him, thrives and waxes fat. He would fain be a soldier, and 
 swagger lilie his neighbors; but his domestic, quiet-loving, 
 uxorious nature continually gets the upper hand ; and though 
 he may mount his helmet and gird on his sword, yet he is apt 
 to sink into the plodding, pains-taking father of a family ; with 
 a troop of children at his heels, and his women-kind hanging 
 on each arm. 
 
 TUE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 I HAVE spoken heretofore with some levity of the contrast 
 that exists between the English and French character ; but it 
 deserves more serious consideration. They are the two great 
 nations of modern times most diametrically opposed, and most 
 worthy of each other's rivalry; essentially distinct in their 
 characters, excelling in opposite qualities, and reflecting lustre 
 on each other by their very opposition. In nothing is this con- 
 trast more strikingly evinced than in their military conduct. 
 For ages have they been contending, and for ages ha.ve they 
 crowded each other's history with acts of splendid heroism. 
 Take the battle of Waterloo, for instance, the last and most 
 memorable trial of their rival prowess. Nothing could surpass 
 the briUiant daring on the one side, and the steadfast enduring 
 on the other. The French cavalry broke like waves on the 
 compact squares of English infantry. They were seen gallop- 
 ing round those serried walls of men, seeking in vain for an 
 entrance; tossing their arms in the air, in the heat of their 
 enthusiasm, and braving the whole front of battle. The 
 British troops, on the other hand, forbidden to move or fire, 
 stood firm and enduring. Their columns were ripped up by 
 cannonry; whole rows were swept down at a shot; the sm^- 
 vivors closed their ranks, and stood firm. In this way many 
 
 * The above sketch was written before the thorough repairs and magnificent 
 additions that have been made of late years to Windsor Castle, 
 
96 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPKLIS. 
 
 columns stood through the pelting of the iron tempest without 
 firing a shot ; without any action to stir theii* blood, or excite 
 their spirits. Death thinned their ranks, but could not shake 
 their souls. 
 
 A beautiful mstance of the quick and generous impulses to 
 which the French are prone, is given in the case of a French 
 cavalier, in the hottest of the action, charging furiously upon a 
 British officer, but percei\^ng in the moment of assault that Ins 
 adversary had lost his sword-arm, dropping the point of liis 
 sabre, and courteously riding on. Peace be with that generous 
 warrior, whatever were his fate! If lie went down in the 
 storm of battle, with the foundering fortunes of his chieftain, 
 may the turf of Waterloo grow green above liis grave I and 
 happier far would be the fate of such a spirit, to sink amid the 
 tempest, unconscious of defeat, than to survive, and mourn 
 over the bhghted laurels of his country-. 
 
 In tliis way the two armies fought through a long and bloody 
 day. The French with enthusiastic valor, the Enghsh ^vith 
 cool, inflexible coui-age, until Fate, as if to leave the question 
 of superiority still undecided between two such adversaries, 
 brought up the Prussians to decide the fortunes of the field. 
 
 It was several years afterward that I ^-isited the field of 
 Waterloo. The ploughshare had been busy with its obhvious 
 labors, and the frequent harvest had nearly obliterated the 
 vestiges of war. StiU the blackened ruins of Iloguemont stood, 
 a monumental pile, to mark the violence of this vehement 
 struggle. Its broken walls, pierced by bullets, and shattered 
 by explosions, showed the deadly strife that had taken place 
 within; when Gaul and Briton, hemmed in betAveen narrow 
 walls, hand to hand and foot to foot, foug'lit from garden to 
 court-yard, from court-yard to chamber, with intense and con- 
 centrated rivalshiiD. Columns of smoke towered from this 
 vort?x of battle as from a volcano: "it was," said my guide, 
 "like a little hell upon earth." Not far off, two or three broad 
 spots of rank, unwholesome green still marked the places 
 where these rival warriors, after their fierce and fitful struggle, 
 slept quietly together in the lap of their common mother earth. 
 Over all the rest of the field peace had resumed its sway. The 
 thoughtless whistle of the peasant floated on the air, instead of 
 the trumpet's clangor ; the team slowly labored up the hiU-side, 
 once shaken by the hoofs of mshmg squadrons ; and ^vild fields 
 of corn waved peacefully over the soldiers' graves, as summer 
 8eas dimple over the place where many a tall ship lies buried. 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 
 
 97 
 
 To the foregoing desultory notes on the French military- 
 character, let me append a few traits which I picked up ver- 
 bally in one of the 1^ rench provinces. They may have already 
 appeared in print, but I have never met with them. 
 
 At the breaking out of the revolution, when so many of the 
 old families emigrated, a descendant of the great Turenne, by 
 the name of De Latour D'Auvergne, refused to accompany his 
 relations, and entered into the Republican army. He served 
 in all the campaigns of the revolution, distinguished himself 
 by his valor, his accomplishments, and his generous spirit, and 
 might have risen to fortune and to the highest honors. He 
 refused, however, all rank in the army, above that of captain, 
 and would receive no recompense for his achievements but a 
 sw^ord of honor. Napoleon, in testimony of his merits, gave 
 him the title of Premier Grenadier de France (First Grenadier 
 of France), which was the only title he would ever bear. He 
 was killed in Germany, in 1809 or '10. To honor his memory, 
 his place was always retained in his regiment, as if he still oc- 
 cupied it ; and whenever the regiment was mustered, and the 
 name of De Latour D'Auvergne was called out, the reply was, 
 ' ' Dead on the field of honor !" 
 
 PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. 
 
 Paris presented a singular aspect just after the downfall of 
 Napoleon, and the restoration of the Boiu^bons. It was filled 
 with a restless, roaming population; a dark, sallow race, with 
 fierce moustaches, black cravats, and feverish, menacing 
 looks ; men suddenly thrown out of employ by the return of 
 peace; officers cut short in their career, and cast loose with 
 scanty means, many of them in utter indigence, upon the 
 world; the broken elements of armies. They haimted the 
 places of public resort, like restless, unhappy spirits, taking 
 no pleasure; hanging about, Uke lowering clouds that linger 
 after a storm, and giving a smgular air of gloom to this other- 
 wise gay metropolis. 
 
 The vaunted courtesy of the old school, the smooth urbanity 
 that prevailed m former days of settled government and long- 
 estabhshed aristocracy, had disappeared amid the savage re- 
 publicamsm of the revolution and the mihtarj^ furor of the 
 empire ; recent reverses had stung the national vanity to the 
 quick; and English travellers, who crowded to Paris on the 
 return of peace, expecting to meet with a gay, good-himiored, 
 
98 
 
 THE CRA TON PA PKRS. 
 
 complaisant populace, such as existed in the time of the " Sen- 
 timental Journey," were sui-prised at finding them irritable 
 and fractious, quick at fancying affronts, and not unapt to 
 offer insults. They accordingly inveighed with heat and bit- 
 terness at the rudeness they experienced in the French 
 metropoHs; yet what better had they to expect? Had Charles 
 II. been reinstated in his kingdom by the valor of French 
 troops; had he been wheeled triumphantly to London over 
 the trampled bodies and trampled standards of England's 
 bravest sons; had a French general dictated to the Enghsh 
 capital, and a French army been quartered in Hyde-Park ; had 
 Paris poured forth its motley population, and the wealthy 
 bourgeoisie of every French trading town swarmed to London ; 
 crowding its squares ; fiUing its streets with their equipages ; 
 thronging its fashionable hotels, and places of amusements; 
 elbowing its impoverished nobihty out of their palaces and 
 opera-boxes, and looking down on the humiliated inhabitants 
 as a conquered people ; in such a reverse of the case, what degree 
 of courtesy Avould the populace of London have been apt to 
 exercise toward their visitors? * 
 
 On the contrary, I have always admired the degree of mag- 
 nanimity exhibited by the French on the occupation of their 
 capital by the Enghsh. Wlien we consider the mihtary ambi- 
 tion of this nation, its love of glory; the splendid heic^ht to 
 which its renown in arms had recently been carried, and with 
 these, the tremendous reverses it had just undergone; its 
 armies shattered, annihilated ; its capital captured, garrisoned, 
 and overrun, and that too by its ancient rival, the English, 
 toward whom it had cherished for centuries a jealous and 
 almost religious hostihty ; could we have wondered if the tiger 
 spirit of this fiery people had broken out in bloody feuds and 
 deadly quarrels ; and that they had sought to rid themselves 
 in any way of their invaders? But it is cowardly nations only, 
 those who dare not Avield the sword, that revenge themselves 
 with the lurking dagger. There were no assassinations in 
 Paris, The French had fought vahantly, desperately, in the 
 field ; but, when valor was no longer of avail, they submitted 
 like gallant men to a fate they could not withstand. Some in- 
 stances of insult from the populace were experienced by their 
 
 * Tlie above remarks were suggested by a conversation with the late Mr. Can- 
 ning, whom the author met in Paris, and who expressed himself in the most liberal 
 •way concerning the magnanimity of the French on the occupation of their capital 
 by strangers. 
 
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 3835. 
 
 99 
 
 English visitors ; some pei-sonal rencontres, which led to duels, 
 did take place ; but these smacked of open and honorable hos- 
 tility. No instances of lurking and perfidious revenge oc- 
 curred, and the British soldier patrolled the streets of Paris 
 safe from treacherous assault. 
 
 If the Enghsh met with harshness and repulse in social inter- 
 course, it was in some degi-ee a proof that the people are more 
 sincere than has been represented. The emigi-ants who had 
 just returned, were not yet reinstated. Society was constituted 
 of those who had flourished under the late regime ; the newly 
 ennobled, the recently enriched, who felt theu* prosperity and 
 their consequence endangered by this change of things. The 
 broken-down officer, who saw his glory tarnished, liis fortune 
 ruined, his occupation gone, could not be expected to look with 
 complacency upon the authors of Ms downfall. The English 
 visitor, flushed. Avith health, and wealth, and victory, could 
 little enter into the feelings of the blighted warrior, scarred 
 with a hundred battles, an exile from the camp, broken in con- 
 stitution by the wars, impoverished by the peace, and cast 
 back, a needy stranger in the splendid but captured metropohs 
 of his country. 
 
 " Oh ! who can tell what heroes feel. 
 When all but life and honor's lost!" 
 
 And here let me notice the conduct of the French soldiery 
 on the dismemberment of the army of the Loire, when two 
 hundred thousand men were suddenly thrown out of employ ; 
 men who had been brought up to the camp, and scarce knew 
 any other home. Few in civil, peaceful life, are aware of the 
 severe trial to the feehngs that takes place on the dissolution 
 of a regiment. There is a fraternity in arms. The commimity 
 of dangers, hardsliips, enjoyments; the participation in battles 
 and victories: the companionship in adventures, at a time of 
 life when men's feelings are most fresh, susceptible, and ardent, 
 all these bind the members of a regiment strongly together. 
 To them the re^ment is friends, family, home. They identify 
 themselves with its fortunes, its glories, its disgraces. Imagine 
 this romantic tie suddenly dissolved; the regiment broken up; 
 the occupation of its members gone ; their military pride mor- 
 tified ; the career of glory closed behind them ; that of obscurity, 
 dependence, want, neglect, perhaps beggary, before them. 
 Such was the case with the soldiers of the Army of the Loire. 
 Thev were sent off in souads. with officers, to the principnj 
 
100 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 towiis where they were to be disarmed and discharged. In 
 this way they passed through the country with arms in their 
 hands, often exposed to shghts and scoffs, to hunger and vari- 
 ous hardships and privations ; but they conducted themselves 
 magnanimously, without any of those outbreaks of violence 
 and wrong that so often attend the dismemberment of armies. 
 
 The few years that have elapsed since the tune above alluded 
 to, have already had their effect. The proud and angry spirits 
 which then roamed about Paris unemployed have cooled down 
 and found occupation. The national character begins to re- 
 cover its old channels, though worn deeper by recent torrents. 
 The natural urbanity of the French begins to find its way, like 
 oil, to the surface, though there still remains a degree of rough- 
 ness and bluntness of manner, partly real, and partly affected, 
 by such as miagine it to indicate force and frankness. The 
 events of the last thirty years have rendered the French a 
 more reflecting people. They have acquired greater indepen- 
 dence of mind and strength of judgment, together with a por- 
 tion of that prudence which results from experiencing tlic 
 dangerous consequences of excesses. However that period 
 may have been stained by crimes, and filled with extrava- 
 gances, the French have certainly come out of it a greater 
 nation than before. One of their own philosophers observes 
 that in one or two generations the nation will probably com- 
 bine the ease and elegance of the old character with force and 
 solidity. They were light, he says, before the revolution ; then 
 wild and savage; they have become more thoughtful and re- 
 flective. It is only old Frenchmen, now-a-days, that are gay 
 and trivial; the young are very serious personages. 
 
 P.S. In the course of a morning's walk, about the time the 
 above remarks were written, I observed the Duke of Wellington, 
 who was on a brief visit to Paris. He was alone, simply attired 
 in a blue frock ; with an umbrella under his arm, and his hat 
 drawn over his eyes, and sauntering across the Place Ven- 
 dome, close by the Column of Napoleon. He gave a glance up 
 at the column as he passed, and continued his loitering way up 
 the Rue de la Paix ; stopping occasionally to gaze in at the 
 shop-windows; elbowed now and then by other gazers, who 
 little suspected that the quiet, lounging individual they were 
 jostling so unceremoniously, was the conqueror who had twice 
 
AMERICAN lUmKAECIIKS IN IT ALT. 
 
 101 
 
 entered the capital victoriously ; had controlled the destinies 
 of the nation, and eclipsed the glory of the military idol, at the 
 base of whose column he was thus negligently sauntering. 
 
 Some years afterward I was at an evening's entertainment 
 given by the Duke at Apsley House, to William IV. The Duke 
 had manifested his admiration of his great adversary, by 
 having portraits of him in different parts of the house. At 
 the bottom of the grand staircase, stood the colossal statue of 
 the Emperor, by Canova. It was of marble, in the antique 
 style, with one arm partly extended, holding a figure of vic- 
 tory. Over this arm the ladies, in tripping up stairs to the 
 ball, had thrown their shawls. It was a singular office for the 
 statue of Napoleon to perform in the mansion of the Duke of 
 Welhngton ! 
 
 " Imperial Csesar dead, aud turned to clay," etc., etc. 
 
 AMERICAN RESEARCHES IN ITALY. 
 
 LIFE OF TASSO: RECOVERY OF A LOST PORTRAIT OF DANTE. 
 
 To the Editor of the Knickerhocker: 
 
 Sir : Permit me through tlie pages of your magazine to call 
 the attention of the public to the learned and elegant re- 
 searches in Europe of one of our countrymen, Mr. R. H. 
 Wilde, of Georgia, formerly a member of the House of Repre- 
 sentatives. After leaving Congress, Mr. Wilde a few years 
 since spent about eighteen months in travelling through differ- 
 ent parts of Europe, until he became stationary for a time in 
 Tuscany. Here he occupied himself with researches concern- 
 ing the private life of Tasso, whose mysterious and romantic 
 love for the Princess Leonora, his madness and imprisonment, 
 had recently become the theme of a literary controversy, not 
 yet ended ; curious in itself, and rendered still more curious by 
 some alleged manuscripts of the poet's, brought forward by 
 Count Alberti. Mr. Wilde entered into the investigation with 
 the enthusiasm of a poet, and the patience and accuracy of a 
 case-hunter; and has produced a work now in the press, in 
 which the " vexed questions" concerning Tasso are most ably 
 discussed, and lights thrown upon them by his letters, and by 
 varicnis of his sonnets, which last are rendered into English 
 
102 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 with rare felicity. While Mr. Wilde was occupied upon this 
 work, he becarae acquainted with Signor Carlo Liverati, an 
 artist of considerable merit, and especially well versed in the 
 antiquities of Florence. This gentleman mentioned inciden- 
 tally one day, in the course of conversation, that there once 
 and probably still existed in the Bargello, anciently both the 
 prison and the palace of the republic, an authentic portrait of 
 Dante. It was beheved to be in fresco, on a wall wliich after^ 
 ward, by some strange neglect or inadvertency, had been cov- 
 ered with whitewash. Signor Liverati mentioned the cii'cmn ■ 
 stance merely to deplore the loss of so precious a portrait, and 
 to regret the almost utter hopelessness of its recovery. 
 
 As Mr. Wilde had not as yet imbibed that enthusiastic 
 admu-ation for Dante which possesses all Itahans, by whom 
 the poet is almost worshipped, this conversation made but a 
 slight impression on him at the time. Subsequent]}^, how- 
 ever, hiS researches concerning Tasso bemg ended, he began 
 to amuse his leisure hours with attempts to translate some 
 specimens of Italian lyric poetry, and to compose very short 
 biographical sketches of the authors. In these specunens, 
 wliich as yet exist only in manuscript, he has shown the same 
 critical knowledge of the Itahan language, and admirable 
 command of the English, that characterize his translations 
 of Tasso. He had not advanced far in these exercises, when 
 the obscure and contradictory accounts of many incidents in 
 the hfe of Dante caused him much embarrassment, and 
 sorely piqued his curiosity. About the same time he received, 
 through the com'tesy of Don Neri dei Principi Corsini, what 
 he had long most fervently desired, a permission from the 
 Grand Duke to pursue his investigations in the secret archives 
 of Florence, Avith power to obtain copies therefrom. This was 
 a rich and almost unwrought mine of hterary research; for to 
 Italians themselves, as well as to foreigners, their archives for 
 the most part have been long inaccessible. For two years 
 Mr. Wilde devoted himself with indefatigable ardor to ex- 
 plore the records of the republic during the time of Dante. 
 These being wi-itten in barbarous Latin and semi-Gothic 
 characters, on parchment more or less discolored and muti- 
 lated, with ink sometimes faded, were rendered still more 
 illegible by the arbitrary abbreviations of the notaries. They 
 require, m fact, an especial study; few even of the officers 
 employed m the Archivio delle Eifonnagione^^ can read them 
 currently and correctly. 
 
AMERICAN RESEAnCIIES JX ITALY. 
 
 103 
 
 Mr. Wildo however persevered in his laborious task v/ith 
 a patience severely tried, but invincible. Being vvdthout ap 
 index, each file, each book, requii-ed to be examined page by 
 page, to ascertain whether any particular of the immort^il 
 po(;t's political life had escaped the untiring industry of his 
 coiuitrymen. This toil was not wholly fruitless, and several 
 interesting facts obscurely known, and others utterly un 
 known by the Italians themselves, are drawn fortli by Mr. 
 Wilde from the oblivion of these ai'chives. 
 
 While thus engaged, the ciicumstance of the lost portrait 
 of Dante was again brought to Mr. Wilde's mind, but now 
 excited intense interest. In perusing the notes of the late 
 kiarned Canonico Moreri on Filelfo's life of Dante, he found 
 it stated that a portrait of the poet by Giotto was formerly 
 to be seen in the BargeUo. He learned also that Sigiior 
 Scotti, who has charge of the original drawings of the old 
 masters in the imperial and royal gallery, had made several 
 years previously an ineffectual attempt to set on foot a project 
 for the recovery of the lost treasure. Here was a new vein 
 of inquiry, which ^Ir. Wilde followed up with his usual energy 
 and sagacity. He soon satisfied himseK, by reference to 
 Vasari, and to the still mxore ancient and decisive authority 
 of Filippo Villari, v/ho hved shortly after the poet, that Giotto, 
 the friend and contemporary of Dante, did undoubtedly paint 
 his likeness in the place indicated. Giotto died in 1336, but 
 as Dante was banished, and was even sentenced to be burned, 
 in 1302, it was obvious the work must have been executed 
 before that time ; since the portrait of one outlawed and capi- 
 tally convicted as an enemy to the commonwealth would 
 never have been ordered or tolerated in the chapel of the 
 royal palace. It was clear, then, that the portrait must have 
 been painted between 1290 and 1302. 
 
 Mr. Wilde now revolved in his own mind the possibihty 
 that this precious rehc might remain undestroyed under its 
 coat of whitewash, and might yet be restored to the world. 
 For a momxcnt he felt an impulse to undertake the enterprise ; 
 but feared that, in a foreigner from a new world, any part of 
 which is unrepresented at the Tuscan court, it might appear 
 like an intrusion. He soon however found a zealous coadjutor. 
 This was one Giovanni Aubrey Bezzi, a Piedmontese exile, 
 who had long been a resident in England, and was familiar 
 with its language and literature. He was now on a visit to 
 Florence, which liberal and hospitable city is always open to 
 
104 
 
 77/ A' CllAYOX PAPhTiS. 
 
 men of merit who for political reasons have been excluded 
 from other parts of Italy. Signor Bezzi partook deeply of the 
 enthusiasm of his countrymen for the memory of Dante, and 
 sympathized with Mr. Wilde in his eagerness to retrieve if pos- 
 sible the lost portrait. They had several consultations as to 
 the means to be adopted to effect their purpose, without in- 
 curring the charge of undue officiousness. To lessen any ob- 
 jections that might occur, they resolved to ask for nothing but 
 permission to search for the fresco painting at their own ex- 
 pense ; and should any remains of it be found, then to propose 
 to the nobility and gentry of Florence an association for the 
 purpose of completing the undertaking, and effectually recover-, 
 ing the lost portrait. 
 
 For the same reason the formal memorial addressed to the 
 Grand Duke was drawn up in the name of Florentines ; among 
 whom were the celebrated Bartolini, now President of the 
 School of Sculpture in the Imperial and Royal Academy, Sig- 
 nor Paolo Ferroni, of the noble family of that name, who has 
 exhibited considerable talent for painting, and Sig-nor Gas- 
 parini, also an artist. This petition was urged and supported 
 with indefatigable zeal by Signor Bezzi; and being warmly 
 countenanced by Count Nerli and other functionaries, met 
 with more prompt success than had been anticipated. Signor 
 Marini, a skiKul artist, who had succeeded in similar opera- 
 tions, was now employed to remove the whitewash by a pro- 
 cess of his own, by which any fresco painting that might exist 
 beneath would be protected from injury. He set to work 
 patiently and cautiously. In a short time he met with evi- 
 dence of the existence of the fresco. From under the coat 
 of whitewash the head of an angel gradually made its appear- 
 ance, and was pronounced to be by the pencil of Giotto. 
 
 The enterprise was now prosecuted with increased ardor. 
 Several months were expended on the task, and three sides 
 of the chapel wall were uncovered ; they were all painted in ' 
 fresco by Giotto, with the history of the Magdalen, exhibiting 
 her conversion, her penance, and her beatification. The fig- 
 ures, however, were all those of saints and angels ; no histori- 
 cal portraits had yet been discovered, and doubts began to 
 be entertained whether there were any. Still the recovery 
 of an indisputable work of Giotto's was considered an ample 
 reward for any toil; and the Ministers of the Grand Duke, 
 acting under his directions, assumed on his behalf the past 
 charges and future management of the enterprise. 
 
AMEllICAN llE^'iE Alien ES IN ITALY. 
 
 105 
 
 At length, on the uncovering of the fourth wall, the under- 
 taking ^vas crowned with complete success. A number of 
 historical figures were brought to light, and among them the 
 aiidoubted likeness of Dante. He was represented in full 
 leng-th, in the garb of the tune, with a book under his arm, 
 designed most probably to represent the "Vita Nuova," for 
 the " Comedia" Avas not yet composed, and to all appearance 
 from thirty to thirty-five years of age. The face was in profile, 
 and in excellent preservation, excepting that at some former 
 period a nail had unfortunately been driven into the eye. The 
 outline of the eyelid was perfect, so that the injury could 
 easily be remedied. The countenance was extremely hand- 
 some, yet bore a strong resemblance to the portraits of the 
 poet taken later in life. 
 
 It is not easy to appreciate the delight of Mr. Wilde and his 
 coadjutors at this triumphant result of their researches; nor 
 the sensation produced, not merely in Florence but throughout 
 Italy, by this discovery of a veritable portrait of Dant6, in the 
 prime of his days. It was some such sensation as would be 
 produced in England by the sudden discovery of a perfectly 
 well authenticated likeness of Shakespeare ; with a difference 
 in intensity proportioned to the superior sensitiveness of the 
 Italians. 
 
 The recovery of this portrait of the "divine poet" has occa.- 
 sioncd fresh inquiry into the origin of the masks said to have 
 been made fi'om a cast of his face taken after death. One of 
 these masks, in the possession of the Marquess of Torrigiani, 
 has been pronounced as certainly the original. Several artists 
 of high talent have concurred in this opinion; among these 
 may be named Jesi, the first engraver in Florence ; Seymour 
 Kirkup, Esq. , a painter and antiquary ; and our own country- 
 man Powers, whose genius, by the way, is very highly appre- 
 ciated by the Italians. 
 
 We may expect from the accomplished pen of Carlo Torrigi- 
 ani, son of the Marquess, and who is advantageously known in 
 this country, from having travelled here, an account of this 
 dubious and valuable relic, which has been upward of a century 
 in the possession of his family. 
 
 Should Mr. Wilde finish his biographical work concerning 
 Dante, w^hich promises to be a proud achievement in American 
 literature, he intends, I understand, to apply for permission to 
 have both likenesses copied, and should circumstances warrant 
 the expense, to have them engi^aved by eminent artists. We 
 
106 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 shall then have the features of Dante while in the prime of life 
 as well as at the moment of his death. G. C. 
 
 THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 
 
 One of the most remarkable personages in Parisian society 
 during the last century was Renee Charlotte Victoire de Frou- 
 lay De Tesse, Marchioness De Crequi. She sprang from the 
 highest and proudest of the old French nobility, and ever 
 maintained the most exalted notions of the purity and anti- 
 quity of blood, looking upon all families that could not date 
 back further than three or four hundred years as mere up- 
 starts. When a beautifid girl, fourteen years of age, she was 
 presented to Louis XIV. , at Versailles, and the ancient mon- 
 arch kissed her hand with great gallantry ; after an interval of 
 about eighty-five years, when nearly a hundred years old, the 
 same testimonial of respect was paid her at the TuHeries by 
 Bonaparte, then First Consul, who promised her the restitution 
 of the confiscated forests formerly belonging to her famOj". 
 She was one of the most celebrated women of her time for in- 
 tellectual grace and superiority, and had the courage to remain 
 at Paris and brave all the horrors of the revolution, which laid 
 waste the aristocratical world around her. 
 
 The memoirs she has left behind abound with curious anec- 
 dotes and vivid pictures of Parisian hfe diu-ing the latter daj's 
 of Louis XIV., the regency of the Duke of Orleans, and the 
 residue of the last century ; and are highly illustrative of the 
 pride, splendor, and licentiousness of the French nobility on 
 the very eve of their tremendous downfall. 
 
 I shall draw forth a few scenes from her memoii'S, taken 
 almost at random, and which, though given as actual and well- 
 kno'ATi circumstances, have quite the air of romance. 
 
 All the great world of Paris were invited to be present at a 
 grand ceremonial, to take place in the church of the Abbey 
 Royal of Panthemont. Henrietta de Lenoncour, a young girl, 
 of a noble family, of great beauty, and heiress to immense 
 estates, was to take the black veil. Invitations had been issued 
 in grand form, by her aunt and guardian, the Countess Brigitte 
 
27//^ TAKING OF THE VEIL. 
 
 107 
 
 de Eupclmondo, canoness of Mauberge. The circumstance 
 caused great talk and wonder in the fashionable circles of 
 Paris ; everybody was at a loss to imagine why a young girl, 
 beautiful and rich, in the very springtime of her charms, 
 should renounce a world which she was so eminently qualiiied 
 to embellish and enjoy. 
 
 A lady ol high rank, who visited the beautiful novice at the 
 grate of her convent-parlor, got a clue to the mystery. She 
 found her in great agitation ; for a time she evidently repressed 
 her feelings, but they at length broke forth in passionate ex- 
 clamations. ' ' Heaven grant me grace, " said she, ' ' some day 
 or other to pardon my cousin Gondrecourt the sorrows he has 
 caused me I" 
 
 "What do you mean?— what sorrows, my child?" inquired 
 her visitor. " What has your cousin done to affect you?" 
 
 "He is married!" cried she in accents of despau, but endea- 
 voring to repress her sobs. 
 
 " Married ! I have heard nothing of the kind, my dear. Are 
 you perfectly sure of it?" 
 
 "Alas! nothing is more certain; my aunt de Rupelmonde in- 
 formed me of it." 
 
 The lady retired, full of surprise and commiseration. She 
 related the scene in a circle of the highest nobihty, in the 
 saloon of the Marshal Prince of Beauvau, where the unac- 
 countable self-sacrifice of the beautiful novice was imder 
 discussion. 
 
 "Alas!" said she, "the poor girl is crossed in love; she is 
 about to renoimce the world in despair, at the marriage of her 
 cousin De Gondrecourt." 
 
 "Vv^hat!" cried a gentleman present, "the Viscount de 
 Gondrecourt married! Never was there a greater falsehood. 
 And ' her aunt told her so ! ' Oh ! I understand the plot. The 
 countess is passionately fond of Gondrecourt, and jealous of 
 her beautiful niece ; but her schemes are vain ; the Viscount 
 holds her in perfect detestation." 
 
 There was a mingled expression of ridicule, disgust, and 
 indignation at the thought of such a rivalry. The Countess 
 * Rupelmonde was old enough to be the grandmother of tlie 
 Viscount. She was a woman of violent passions, and imperi- 
 ous temper ; robust in person, with a mascuhne voice, a dusky 
 comx^lexion, green eyes, and powerful eyebrows. 
 
 It is impossible," cried one of the company, " that a woman 
 of the countess' age and appearance can be guilty of such 
 
108 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPKHS. 
 
 folly. No, no , you mistake the aim of this detestable woman. 
 She is managing to get possession of the estate of her lovely 
 niece. " 
 
 This was admitted to be the most probable; and all concm-rcd 
 in believing the countess to be at the bottom of the intended 
 sacrifice; for although a canoness, a dignitary of a rohgious 
 order, she was pronounced little better than a devil incarnate. 
 ■ The Princess de Beauvau, a woman of generous spirit and 
 intrepid zeal, suddenly rose from the chair in which she had 
 been reclining. " My prince, " said she, addressing her hus- 
 band, "if you approve of it, I will go immediately and have a 
 conversation on this subject with the archbishop. There is not 
 a moment to spare. It is now past midnight ; the ceremony is 
 to take place in the morning. A few hours and the ii-revocable 
 vows will be pronounced." 
 
 The prince inclined his head in respectful assent. The 
 princess set about her generous enterprise with a woman's 
 promptness. Within a short time her carriage was at the iron 
 gate of the archiepiscopal palace, and her servants rang for 
 admission. Two Switzers, who had charge of the gate, were 
 fast asleep in the porter's lodge, for it was half -past two in the 
 morning. It was some time before they could be awakened, 
 and longer before they could be made to come forth. 
 The Princess de Beauvau is at the gate!" 
 
 Such a personage was not to be received in deshabille. Her 
 dignity and the dignity of the archbishop demanded that the 
 gate should be served in full costume. For half an hour, there- 
 fore, had the princess to wait, in feverish impatience, until the 
 two dignitaries of the porter's lodge arrayed themselves ; and 
 three o'clock sounded from the tower of Notre Dame before 
 they came forth. They were in grand livery, of a buff color, 
 with amaranth galloons, plaited with silver, and fringed sword- 
 belts reaching to their knees, in which were suspended long 
 rapiers. They had small three-cornered hats, surmounted 
 with plumes; and each bore in his hand a halbert. Thus 
 equipped at all points, they planted themselves before the door 
 of the carriage ; stnick the ends of their halberts on the ground 
 with emphasis; and stood waiting with official importance, 
 but profound respect, to know the j^lcasure of the princess. 
 
 She demanded to speak with the archbishop. A most rever- 
 ential bow and shrug accompanied the reply, that " His Gran- 
 deur was not at home. " 
 
 Not at home! Where was he to be found? Another bow 
 
THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 
 
 109 
 
 and shrug: "His Grandeur either was, or ought to be, in 
 retirement in the seminary of St. Magloire ; unless he had gone 
 to pass the Fete oi" St. Bruno with the reverend Carthusian 
 Fathers of the Rue d'Enf er ; or perhai)s he might have gone to 
 repose hhnsclf in his castle of Confians-sur-Seine. Though, on 
 further thought, it was not unlikely he might have gone to 
 sleep at St. Cyr, where the Bishop of Chartres never failed 
 to invite iiim for the anniversary soiree of Madame de Main- 
 tenon. 
 
 The princess was in despair at this multiplicity of cross- 
 roads pointed out for the chase ; the brief interval of time was 
 rapidly elax)sing ; day already began to dawn ; she saw there 
 was no hope of finding the archbishop before the moment of 
 his entrance into the church for the morning's ceremony ; so 
 she returned home quite distressed. 
 
 Afc seven o'clock in the morning the princess was in the 
 parlor of the monastery of De Panthemont, and sent in an 
 urgent request for a moment's conversation with the Lady 
 Abbess. The reply brought was, that the Abbess could not 
 come to the parlor, being obliged to attend to the choir, at the 
 canonical hours. The princess entreated permission to enter 
 the convent, to reveal to the Lady Abbess in two words some- 
 thing of the greatest importance. The Abbess sent word in 
 reply, that the thing wa.s impossible, until she had obtained 
 permission from the Archbishop of Paris. The princess 
 retired once more to her carriage, and now, as a forlorn hope, 
 took her station at the door of the church, to watch for the 
 arrival of the prelate. 
 
 After a while the splendid company invited to this great 
 ceremony began to arrive. The beauty, rank, and wealth of 
 the novice had excited great attention ; and, as everybody was 
 expected to be present on the occasion, everybody pressed to 
 secure a place. The street reverberated with the continual roll 
 of gilded carriages and chariots ; coaches of princes and dukes, 
 designated by imperials of crimson velvet, and magnificent 
 equipages of six horses, decked out with nodding plumes and 
 sumptuous haiTiessing. At length the equipages ceased to 
 arrive; empty vehicles filled the' street; and, with a noisy and 
 parti-colored crowd of lacqueys in rich hveries, obstructed ail 
 the entrances to De Panthemont. 
 
 Eleven o'clock had struck ; the last auditor had entered the 
 church ; the deep tones of the organ began to swell through the 
 sacred pile, yet still the archbishop came not! The heart of 
 
110 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 the princess beat quicker and quicker with vague apprehension ; 
 wlien a valet, dressed in cloth of silver, trimmed with crimson 
 velvet, approached her carriage precipitately. ''Madame," 
 said he, "the archbishop is in the church; he entered by the 
 portal of the cloister; he is already in the sanctuary; the cere- 
 mony is about to commence !" 
 
 What was to be done? To speak with the archbishop was 
 now impossible, and yet on the revelation she was to make 
 to Imn depended the fate of the lovely novice. The princc.-js 
 drew forth her tablets of enamelled gold, wrote a few lines 
 therein with a pencil, and ordered her lacquey to make way for 
 her through the crowd, and conduct her with all speed to the 
 sacristy. 
 
 The description given of the church and the assemblage on 
 this occasion presents an idea of the aristocratical state of the 
 times, and of the high interest awakened by the affecting 
 sacrifice about to take place. The church was hung with 
 superb tapestry, above which extended a band of white damask, 
 fringed ^xith. gold, and covered with armorial escutcheons. 
 A large peimon, emblazoned with the arms and alliances of the 
 high-born damsel, was suspended, according to custom, in 
 place of the lamp of the sanctuary. The lustres, girandoles, 
 csxyX candelabras of the king had been furnished in profusion 
 to decorate the sacred edifice, and the pavements were all 
 covered with rich carpets. 
 
 The sanctuary presented a reverend and august assemblage 
 of bishops, canons, and monks of various orders, Benedic- 
 tines, Bernardines, Raccollets, Capuchins, and others, all in 
 tneir appropriate robes and dresses^ In the midst presided the 
 Archbishop of Paris, Christopher de Beaumont ; surrounded by 
 his four arch priests and his vicars-general. He was seated wiLb 
 Ids back against the altar. When his eyes were cast down, his 
 countenance, pale and severe, is represented as having been 
 somewhat sepulchral and death-hke; but the moment he raised 
 his large, dark, sparkling eyes, the whole became animated; 
 l)oaniing with ardor, and expressive of energy, penetration, and 
 firmness. 
 
 The audience that crowded the church was no less illustrious. 
 Excepting the royal family, all that was elevated in rank and 
 title was there ; never had a ceremonial of the kind attracted 
 an equal concourse of the high aristocracy of Paris. 
 
 At length the grated ^cates of the choir creaked on their 
 hinges, and ]\Iadame de Richeheu, the high and noble Abbess 
 
THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 
 
 Ill 
 
 of De Panthemont, advanced to resign the novice into the 
 hands of her aunt, the Countess Canoness de Rupelmonde. 
 Every eye was turned with intense curiosity to gain a sight of 
 the beautiful victim. She was sumptuously dressed, but her 
 paleness and languor accorded but little with her ])rilliant attire. 
 The Canoness De Rupelmonde conducted her niece to her pray- 
 ing-desk, where, as soon as the poor girl knelt do^^n, she sank 
 as if exha^usted. Just then a sort of murmur was heard at the 
 lower end of the church, where the servants in livery were 
 gathered. A young man was borne forth, struggling in con- 
 vulsions. He was in the uniform of an officer of the guards of 
 King Stanislaus, Duke of Lorraine. A whisper circulated that 
 it was the young Viscount de Gondrecourt, and that he was a 
 lover of the novice. Almost all the young nobles present 
 hurried forth to proffer him sympathy and assistance. 
 
 The Archbishop of Paris remained all this time seated before 
 the altar ; his eyes cast down, his pallid countenance giving no 
 signs of interest or participation in the scene around him. It 
 was noticed that in one of his hands, which was covered with 
 a violet glove, ho grasped firmly a pair of tablets, of enamelled 
 gold. 
 
 The Canoness De Rupelmonde conducted her niece to the 
 prelate, to make her profession of self-devotion, and to utter 
 the irrevocable vow. As the lovely novice knelt at his feet, 
 the archbishop fixed on her his dark, beaming eyes, with a kind 
 but earnest expression. "Sister!" said he, in the softest and 
 most benevolent tone of voice, "what is your age?" 
 
 "Nineteen years, Monsigneur," eagerly interposed the Coun- 
 tess de Rupelmonde. 
 
 " You will reply to me by and bye, Madame," said the arch- 
 bishop, dryly. He then repeated his question to the novice, 
 who replied in a faltering voice, "Seventeen years," 
 
 "In what diocese did you take the white veil?" 
 I "In the diocese of Toul." 
 
 "How!" exclaimed the archbishop, vehemently. "In the 
 uiocese of Toul? The chair of Toul is vacant! The Bishop of 
 Toul died fifteen months since ; and those who officiate in the 
 chapter are not authorized to receive novices. Your noviciate, 
 Mademoiselle, is null and void, and we cannot receive your 
 profession." 
 
 The archbishop rose from his chair, resumed his mitre, and 
 took the crozier from the hands of an attendant. 
 
 ' ' My dear brethren, " said he, addressing the assembly, ' ' there 
 
112 
 
 THE CUAYON PAPERS. 
 
 is no necessity for our examining and interrogating Mademoi- 
 selle de Lenoncour on the sincerity of her religious vocation. 
 There is a canonical impediment to her professing for the pres- 
 ent; and, as to the future, we reserve to ourselves the con- 
 sideration of the matter; interdicting to all other ecclesiastical 
 persons the power ol accepting her vows, under penalty of in- 
 terdiction, of suspension, and of nullification ; aU which is in 
 virtue of our metropohtan rights, contained in the terms of the 
 bull cum proximis:'''' ^''Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Do- 
 mini!'^ pursued he, chanting in a grave and solemn voice, and 
 turning toward the altar to give the benediction of the holy 
 sacrament. 
 
 The noble auditory had that habitude of reserve, that empire, 
 or rather tyranny, over all outward manifestations of internal 
 emotions, which belongs to high aristocratical breeding. The 
 declaration of the archbishop, therefore, was received as one 
 of the most natural and ordinary things in the world, and all 
 knelt down and received the pontifical benediction with perfect 
 decorum. As soon, hov»^ever, as they were released from the 
 self-restraint imposed by etiquette, they amply mdemnified 
 themselves; and nothing v/as talked of for a month, in the 
 fashionable saloons of Paris, but the loves of the handsome 
 Viscount and the charming Henrietta; the wickedness of the 
 canoness ; the active benevolence and admirable address of the 
 Princess de Beauvau ; and the great wisdom of the archbishop, 
 who was particularly extolled for his delicacy in defeating this 
 manoeuvi^e without any scandal to the aristocracy, or public 
 stigma on the name of De Eupelmonde, and without any de- 
 parture from pastoral gentleness, by adroitly seizing upon an 
 informality, and turning it to beneficial account, with as much 
 authority as charitable circumspection. 
 
 As to the Canoness de Eupelmonde, she was defeated at all 
 points in her wicked plans against her beautiful niece. In 
 consequence of the caveat of the archishop, her superior 
 ecclesiastic, the Abbess de Panthemont, formally forbade Ma- 
 demoiselle de Lenoncour to resume the white veil and the dress 
 of a noviciate, and instead of a novice's cell, estabhshed her in 
 a beautiful apartment as a boarder. The next morning the 
 Canoness de Eupelmonde called at the convent to take away 
 her niece ; but, to her confusion, the abbess produced a lettre- 
 de-cachet, which she had j[ust received, and which forbade 
 Mademoiselle to leave the convent with any other person save 
 the Prince de Beauvau. 
 
THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 
 
 113 
 
 Under the auspices and tlio vigilant attention of the prince, 
 the whole affair was wound up in the most technical and cir- 
 cinnstantial manner. The Countess de Rupelmonde, by a 
 decree of the Grand Council, was divested of the guardianship 
 of her niece. All the arrears of revenues accumulated during 
 Mademoiselle de Lenoncour's minority were rigorously col- 
 lected, the accounts scrutinized and adjusted, and her noble 
 fortune placed safely and entirely in her hands. 
 
 In a little while the noble personages who had been invited 
 to the ceremony of taking the veil received another invitation, 
 on the part of the Countess dowager de Gondrecourt, and the 
 Marshal Prince de Beauvau, to attend the marriage of Adrien 
 de Gondrecourt, Viscount of Jean-sur-Moselle, and Henrietta 
 de Lenoncour, Countess de Hevouwal, etc., which duly took 
 place in the chapel of the archiepiscopal palace at Paris. 
 
 So much for the beautiful Henrietta de Lenoncour. We will 
 now draw forth a companion picture of a handsome young 
 cavalier, who figured in the gay world of Paris about the same 
 time, and concerning whom the ancient Marchioness writes 
 with the lingering feeling of youthful romance. 
 
 THE CHARMINO LETORIEEES. 
 
 ''A GOOD face is a letter of recommendation," says an old 
 proverb ; and it was never more verified than in the case of 
 the Chevalier Letorieres. He was a young gentleman of good 
 family, but who, according to the Spanish phrase, had nothing 
 but his cloak and sword (capa y espada), that is to say, his 
 gentle blood and gallant bearing, to help him forward in the 
 world. Through the interest of an uncle, who was an abbe, he 
 received a gratuitous education at a fashionable college, but 
 finding the terms of study too long, and the vacations too 
 short, for his gay and indolent temper, he left college without 
 saying a word, and launched himself upon Paris, with a light 
 heart and still lighter pocket. Here he led a life to his humor. 
 It is true he had to make scanty meals, and to lodge in a garret ; 
 but what of that? He was his own master; free from all task 
 or restraint. When cold or hungry, he sallied forth, like 
 others of the chameleon order, and banqueted on pure air and 
 warm sunshine in the pubhc Vv-alks and gardens ; drove off the 
 thoughts of a dinner by amusing himself with the gay and gro- 
 
114 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 tesqne throngs of the metropohs; and if one of the poorest, was 
 one of the merriest gentlemen upon town. Wherever he went 
 his good looks and frank, graceful demeanor, had an instant 
 and magical effect in securing favor. There was hut one 
 word to express his fascinating powers — he was "charm- 
 ing." 
 
 Instances are given of the effect of his winning qualities upon 
 jninds of coarse, ordinary mould. He had once taken shelter 
 from a heavy shower under a gateway. A hackney coachman, 
 who was passmg hy, pulled up, and asked him if he wished a 
 cast in his carriage. Letorieres dechned, with a melancholy 
 and dubious shake of the head. The coachman regarded him 
 wistfully, repeated his solicitations, and wished to know what 
 place he was going to. ' ' To the Palace of Justice, to walk in 
 the galleries; but I will wait here until the rain is over." 
 
 "And why so?" inquired the coachman, pertinaciously. 
 
 " Because I've no money; do let me be quiet." 
 
 The coachman jumped down, and opening the door of his 
 carriage, "It shaU never be said," cried he, "that I left so 
 charming a young gentleman to weary himself, and catch 
 cold, merely for the sake of twenty-four sous." 
 
 Arrived at the Palace of Justice, he stopped before the saloon 
 of a famous restaurateur, opened the door of the carriage, 
 and taking off his hat very respectfully, begged the youth to 
 accept of a Louis-d'or. ' ' You will meet with some young gen- 
 tlemen within," said he, "with whom you may wish to take a 
 hand at cards. The number of my coach is 144. You can find 
 me out, and repay me whenever you please." 
 
 The worthy Jehu was some years afterward made coachman 
 to the Princess Sophia, of France, through the recoimuenda- 
 tion of the handsome youth he had so generously obliged. 
 
 Another instance in point is given with respect to his tailor, to 
 whom he owed four hundred livres. The tailor had repeatedly 
 dunned him, but was always put off with the best grace in the 
 world. The wife of the tailor urged her husband to assume a 
 harsher tone. He replied that he could not find it in his heart 
 to speak roughly to so charming a young gentleman. ' 
 
 " I've no patience with such want of spirit!" cried the wife, 
 " you have not the courage to show your teeth: but I'm going 
 out to get change for this note of a hundred crowns ; before I 
 come home, I'll seek this ' charming ' youth myself, and see 
 whether he has the power to charm me. I'll warrant he 
 won't be able to put me off with fine looks and fine speeches.'' 
 
THE TAKIAG OF THE VEIL. 
 
 110 
 
 With these and many more vaunts, the good dame saUied 
 forth. When she returned home, however, she wore quite a 
 different aspect. 
 
 "Well," said her husband, "how much have you received 
 from the ' charming ' young man?" 
 
 " Let me alone," replied the wife; " I found him playing on 
 'the guitar, and he looked so handsome, and was so amiable 
 and genteel, that I had not the heart to trouble him." 
 
 "And the change for the hundred-crown note?" said the 
 tailor. 
 
 The wife hesitated a moment: "Faith," cried she, "you'll 
 have to add the amount to your next bill against him. The 
 poor young gentleman had such a melancholy air, that — I know 
 not how it was, but -I left the hundred crowns on his mantel- 
 piece in spite of him !" 
 
 The captivating looks and manners of Letorieres made his 
 way with equal facility in the great world. His high connec- 
 tions entitled him to presentation at court, but some questions 
 arose about the sufficiency of his proofs of nobility ; whereupon 
 the king, who had seen him walking in the gardens of Ver- 
 sailles, and had been charmed with his appearance, put an end 
 to all demurs of etiquette by making him a viscount. 
 
 The same kind of fascination is said to have attended him 
 throughout his career. He succeeded in various difficult fam- 
 ily suits on questions of honors and privileges ; he had merely 
 to appear in court to dispose the judges in his favor. He at 
 length became so popular, that on one occasion, when he 
 appeared at the theatre on recovering from a wound received 
 in a duel, the audience applauded him on his entrance. Noth- 
 ing, it is said, could have been in more perfect good taste and 
 high breeding than his conduct on this occasion. When he 
 heard the applause, he rose in his box, stepped forward, and 
 surveyed both sides of the house, as if he could not believe 
 that it was himself they were treating like a favorite actor, or 
 a prince of the blood. 
 
 His success with the fair sex may easily be presumed ; but 
 he had too much honor and sensibility to render his inter- 
 course with them a series of cold gallantries and heartless tri- 
 umphs. In the course of his attendance upon court, where he 
 held a post of honor about the king, he fell deeply in love with 
 the beautiful Princess Julia, of Savoy Carignan. She was 
 young, tender, and simple-hearted, and returned his love with 
 equal fervor. Her family took the alarm at this attachment 
 
116 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPhRS. 
 
 and procured an order that she should inhabit the Abbey of 
 Montmartre, where she was treated with all befitting dehcacy 
 and distinction, but not permitted to go beyond the convent 
 walls. The lovers found means to correspond. One of their 
 letters was intercepted, and it is even hinted that a plan of 
 elopement was discovered. A duel was the consequence, with 
 one of the fiery relations of the princess. Letorieres received 
 two sword-thrusts in his right side. His wounds were serious, 
 yet after two or three days' confinement he could not resist his 
 impatience to see the princess. He succeeded in scaling the 
 walls of the abbey, and obtaining an interview in an arcade 
 leading to the cloister of the cemetery. The interview of the 
 lovers was long and tender. They exchanged vows of eternal 
 fidelity, and flattered themselves with hopes of future happi- 
 ness, which they were never to realize. After repeated fare- 
 wells, the princess re-entered the convent, never again to 
 behold the charming Letorieres. On the following morning 
 his corpse Wcis found stilf and cold on the pavement of the 
 cloister ! 
 
 It would seem that the wounds of the unfortunate youth had 
 been reopened by his efforts to get over the wall; that he had 
 refrained from calling assistance, lest he should expose the 
 princess, and that he had bled to death, without any one to aid 
 hun, or to close his dying eyes. 
 
 THE EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD.* 
 
 NOTED DOWN FROM HIS CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 " I AM a Kentuckian by residence and choice, but a Virginian 
 by birth. The cause of my first leaving the ' Ancient Domin- 
 ion, ' and emigrating to Kentucky, was a jackass ! You stare, 
 but have a little patience, and I'll soon show you how it came 
 to pass, llj father, who was of one of the old Virginian 
 families, resided in Richmond. He was a widower, and his 
 
 * Ralph Rin<^woofl. thoua^h a fictitious name, is a real personage: the worthy- 
 original is now living? and floni-isliiug in honorable station. I have g-iven some 
 anecdotes of his earl and eccentric career in, as nearly as I can recollect, the very 
 words in which he related them. They certainly afforded strong temptations to 
 the embellishments of fiction; bnt I thought them so strikingly characteristic of the 
 individual, and of the scenes and society into which his peculiar humors carried 
 him, that I preferred giving them in their original bimpUoity.— G. C. 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINOWOOD. II7 
 
 domestic affairs were managed by a housekeeper of the old 
 school, such as used to administer the concerns of opulent Vir^ 
 ginian households. She was a dignitary that ahnost rivalled 
 my hither in importance, and seemed to think everything be- 
 longed to her ; in fact, she was so considerate in her economy, 
 and so careful of expense, as sometimes to vex my father, who 
 would swear she was disgracing him by her meanness. She 
 always appeared with that ancient insignia of housekeeping 
 trust and authority, a great bunch of keys jingling at her 
 girdle. She superintended the arrangements of the table at 
 every meal, and saw that the dishes were all placed according 
 to her primitive notions of symmetry. In the evening she 
 took her stand and served out tea with a mingled respectful- 
 ness and pride of station, truly exemplary. Her great 
 ambition was to have everything in order, and that the estab- 
 hshment under her sway should be cited as a model of good 
 housekeeping. If anything went wrong, poor old Barbara 
 would take it to heart, and sit in her room and cry ; until a 
 few chapters in the Bible would quiet her spirits, and make all 
 calm again. The Bible, in fact, was her constant resort in time 
 of trouble. She opened it indiscriminately, and whether she 
 chanced among the lamentations of Jeremiah, the Canticles of 
 Solomon, or the rough enumeration or! the tribes in Deuter- 
 onomy, a chapter was a chapter, and operated like baim t6 her 
 soul. Such was our good old housekeei^er Barbara, who was 
 destined, unwittingly, to have a most unportant effect upon 
 my destiny. 
 
 ' ' It came to pass, during the days of my juvenility, while I 
 was yet what is termed ' an unlucky boy,' that a gentleman of 
 our neighborhood, a great advocate for experiments and im- 
 provements of all kinds, took it into Ms head that it would be 
 an inmiense public advantage to introduce a breed of mules, 
 and accordingly imported three jacks to stock the neighbor- 
 hood. This in a part of the country where the people cared 
 for nothing but blood horses ! Why, sir ! they would have con- 
 sidered their mares disgraced and their whole stud dishonored 
 by such a misalliance. The whole matter was a town talk and 
 a town scandrJ, The worthy amalgamator of quadrupeds 
 found himself in a dismal scrape; so he backed out in time, 
 abjured the whole doctrine of a^malgamation, and turned his 
 jacks loose to shift for themselves upon the town common. 
 There they used to run about and lead an idle, good-for- 
 nothing, holiday life, the happiest animals in the country. 
 
118 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 "It SO happened that my way to school lay across this 
 common. The first time that I saw one of these animals it set 
 up a braying and frightened me confoundedly. However, I 
 soon got over my fright, and seeing that it had something of 
 a horse look, my Virginian love for anything of the equestrian 
 si^ecies predominated, and I determined to back it. I accord- 
 ingly applied at a grocer's shop, procured a cord that had been 
 round a loaf of sugar, and made a kind of halter ; then sum- 
 moning some of my school-fellows, we drove master Jack 
 about the common until we hemmed liim in an angle of a 
 ' worm fence. ' xVf ter some difficulty, we fixed the halter 
 round his muzzle, and I mounted. Up flew his heels, away I 
 went over his head, and off he scampered. However, I was on 
 my legs in a twinkhng, gave chase, caught him, and remounted. 
 By dint of repeated tumbles I soon learned to stick to his back, 
 so that he could no more cast me than he could his own skin. 
 From that time, master Jack and his companions had a scam- 
 pering life of it, for we all rode them between school hours, 
 and on holiday afternoons ; and you may be sure school-boys' 
 nags are never permitted to suffer the grass to grow under 
 their feet. They soon became so knowing that they took to 
 their heels at the very sight of a school-boy; and we were 
 generally much longer in chasing than we were in riding them. 
 
 ' ' Sunday approached, on which I projected an equestrian 
 excursion on one of these long-eared steeds. As I knew the 
 jacks would be in great demand on Sunday morning, I secured 
 one over night, and conducted him home, to be ready for an 
 early outset. But where was I to quarter him for the night? 
 I could not put him in the stable ; our old black groom George 
 was as absolute in that domain as Barbara was within doors, 
 and would have thought his stable, his horses, and himself dis- 
 graced, by the introduction of a jackass. I recollected the 
 smoke-house ; an out-building appended to all Virginian estab- 
 lishments for the smoking of hams, and other kinds of meat. 
 So I got the key, put master Jack in, locked the door, returned 
 the key to its place, and went to bed, intending to release my 
 prisoner at an early hour, before any of the family were awake. 
 I was so tired, however, by the exertions I had made in catch- 
 ing the donkey, that I fell into a sound sleep, and the morning 
 broke without my awaking. 
 
 " Not so with dame Barbara, the housekeeper. As usual, to 
 use her own phrase, ' she was up before the crow put his shoes 
 on,' and bustled about to get things in order for breakfast. 
 
EARLY EXPKnib:^-Cm OF RALPH RING WOOD. ]19 
 
 Her first resort was to the smoke-house. Scarce had she 
 opened the door, when master Jack, tired of his confinement, 
 and glad to be released from darkness, gave a loud bray, and 
 rushed forth. Down dropped old Barbara; the animal tram- 
 pled over her, and made off for the common. Poor Barbara ! 
 She had never before seen a donkey, and having read in the 
 Bible that the devil went about like a roaring lion, seeking 
 whom he might devour, she took it for granted that this was 
 Beelzebub himself. The kitchen was soon in a hubbub ; the 
 servants hurried to the spot. There lay old Barbara in fits ; 
 as fast as she got out of one, the thoughts of the devil came 
 over her, and she fell into another, for the good soul was 
 devoutly superstitious. 
 
 "As ill luck would have it, among those attracted by the 
 noise was a little, cursed, fidgety, crabbed uncle of mine ; one 
 of those uneasy spirits that cannot rest quietly in their beds in 
 the morning, but must be up early, to bother the household. 
 He was only a kind of half-uncle, after all, for he had married 
 my father's sister; yet he assumed great authority on the 
 strength of this left-handed relationship, and was a universal 
 intermeddler and family pest. This prying little busydody 
 soon ferreted out the truth of the story, and discovered, by 
 hook and by crook, that I was at the bottom of the affair, and 
 had locked up the donkey in the smoke-house. He stopped to 
 inquire no further, for he was one of those testy curmudgeons 
 w4th whom uixlucky boys are always in the wrong. Leaving 
 old Barbara to wrestle in imagination with the devil, he made 
 for my bed-chamber, where I still lay wrapped in rosy slum- 
 bers, little dreaming of the mischief I had done, and the storm 
 about to break over me. 
 
 "In an instant I was awakened by a shower of thwacks, and 
 started up in wild amazement. I demanded the meaning of 
 this attack, but received no other reply than that I had 
 murdered the housekeeper; while my uncle continued wliack- 
 ing away during my confusion. I seized a poker, and put 
 myself on the defensive. I was a stout boy for my years, 
 vv^hile my uncle was a little wiffet of a man ; one that in Ken- 
 tucky we would not call even an ' individual ; ' nothing more 
 than a 'remote circumstance.' I soon, therefore, brought him 
 to a parley, and learned the whole extent of the charge brought 
 against me. I confessed to the donkey and the smoke-house, 
 but pleaded not guilty of the murder of the housekeeper. I 
 soon found out that old Bai'bara was still alive. She con- 
 
120 
 
 THE CRA TON PAPERS. 
 
 tinned under the doctor's hands, however, for several da3's; 
 and whenever she had an ill turn my uncle would seek to give 
 me another flogging. I appealed to my father, but got no 
 redress. I was considered an 'unlucky boy,' prone to all 
 kinds of mischief ; so that prepossessions were against me in 
 all cases of appeal. 
 
 "I felt stung to the soul at all this. I had been beaten, 
 degraded, and treated with shghting when I complained. I 
 lost my usual good spirits and good humor ; and, being out of 
 temper with everybody, fancied everybody out of temper vnth 
 me. A certain ^vild, roving spirit of freedom, which I beheve 
 is as inherent in me as it is in the partridge, was brought into 
 sudden activity by the checks and restraints I suffered. ' 111 
 go from home,' thought I, 'and shift for myself.' Perhaps 
 this notion was quickened by the rage for emigrating to Ken- 
 tucky, which was at that time prevalent in Virginia. I had 
 heard such stories of the romantic beauties of the countiy ; of 
 the abundance of game of all kinds, and of the glorious inde- 
 pendent life of the hunters who ranged its noble forests, and 
 lived by the rifle ; that I was as much agog to get there as boys 
 who hve in sea-ports are to launch themselves among the won- 
 ders and adventures of the ocean. 
 
 " After a time old Barbara got better in mind and body, and 
 matters were explained to her : and she became gradually con- 
 vinced that it was not the devil she had encountered. Wlien 
 she heard how harshly I had been treated on her account, the 
 good old soul was extremely grieved, and spo'ke warmly to my 
 father in my behalf. He had himself remarked the change 
 in my behavior, and thought punishment might have been 
 carried too far. He sought, therefore, to have some conversa- 
 tion ^^dth me, and to soothe my feelings ; but it was too late. 
 I frankly told him the course of mortification that I had ex- 
 perienced, and the fixed determination I had made to go from 
 home. 
 
 " ' And where do you mean to go? ' 
 '"To Kentucky.' 
 
 " ' To Kentucky! Why, you know nobody there.' 
 " ' No matter: I can soon make acquaintances.' 
 " ' And what will you do when you get there?' 
 "'Hunt!' 
 
 " My father gave a long, low whistle, and looked in my face 
 with a serio-comic expression. I was not far in my teens, and 
 to talk of setting off alone for Kentucky, to turn hmiter, 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 121 
 
 seemed doubtless the idle prattle of a boy. He was little 
 aware of the dogged resolution of my character; and his 
 smile of incredulity but fixed me more obstinately in my pur- 
 pose. I assured him I was serious in what I said, and would 
 cei'tainly set oif for Kentucky in the spring. 
 
 " Month after month passed away. ^My father now and then 
 adverted slightly to what had passed between us; doubtless 
 for the purpose of sounding me. I always expressed the same 
 grave and fixed determination. By degrees he spoke to me 
 more directly on the subject, endeavoring earnestly but kindly 
 to dissuade me. My only reply was, ' I had made up my mind.' 
 
 "Accordingly, as soon as the spring had fairly opened, I 
 sought him one day in his study, and informed him I was 
 about to set out for Kentucky, and had come to take my 
 leave. He made no objection, for he had exhausted persua- 
 sion and remonstrance, and doubtless thought it best to give 
 way to my humor, trusting that a little rough experience 
 w^ould soon bring me home again. I asked money for my 
 journey. He w^ent to a chest, took out a long green silk purse, 
 well filled, and laid it on the table. I now asked for a horse 
 and servant. 
 
 " ' A horse I ' said my father, sneeringly : ' why, you would 
 not go a mile without racing him, and breaking your neck ; 
 and as to a servant, you cannot take care of yourself, much 
 less of him.' 
 
 " ' How am I to travel, then? ' 
 
 " ' Why, I suppose you are man enough to travel on foot.' 
 
 " He spoke jestingly, fit tie thinking I would take him at his 
 word ; but I was thoroughly piqued in respect to my enter- 
 prise; so I pocketed the purse, v/ent to my room, tied up three 
 or four shirts in a pocket-handkerchief, put a dirk in my 
 bosom, girt a couple of pistols round my waist, and felt like 
 a knight-errant armed cap-a-pie, and ready to rove the world 
 in quest of adventures. 
 
 ' ' My sister (I had but one) hung round me and wept, and 
 entreated me to stay. I felt my heart swxU in my thi-oat ; but 
 I gulped it back to its place, and straightened myself up: I 
 would not suffer myself to cry. I at length disengaged my- 
 self from her, and got to the door. 
 
 " ' When will you come back? ' cried she. 
 
 " ' Never, by heavens ! ' cried I, ' until I come back a member 
 of Congress from Kentucky. I am determined to show that I 
 am not the tail-end of the family.' 
 
122 
 
 TIIIC CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 "Siicli was my first outset from home. You may suppose 
 what a greenhorn I was, and how Kttle I l^new of the world I 
 was launcliing into. 
 
 "I do not recollect any incident of importance, until I 
 reached the borders of Pennsylvania. I had stopi.)ed at an inn 
 to get some refreshment; and as I was eating in the backi-oom, 
 I overheard two men ui the bar-room conjecture who and what 
 r. could be. One determined, at length, that I was a run-away 
 apprentice, and ought to be stopped, to which the other as- 
 sented. When I had finished my meal, and paid for it, I went 
 out at the back door, lest I should be stopped by my super- 
 visors. Scorning, however, to steal off like a culprit, 1 walked 
 round to the front of the house. One of the men advanced to 
 the front door. He wore Ms hat on one side, and had a conse- 
 quential air that nettled me. 
 
 " ' Where are you going, youngster? ' demanded he. 
 
 " ' That's none of your business ! ' repUed I, rather pertly. 
 
 " ' Yes, but it is, though! You have run away from home, 
 and must give an account of yourself. ' 
 
 He advanced to seize me, Avhen I drew forth a pistol. ' If 
 you advance another step, I'll shoot you ! ' 
 
 " He sprang back as if he had trodden upon a rattlesnake, 
 and his hat fell off in the movement. 
 
 " ' Let him alone ! ' cried his comiDanion ; ' he's a foolish, mad- 
 headed boy, and don't know what he's about. He'U shoot you, 
 you may rely on it. ' 
 
 " He did not need any caution in the matter; he was afraid 
 even to pick up his hat: so I pushed forward on my way, 
 without molestation. This incident, however, had its effect 
 upon me. I became fearful of sleeping in any house at night, 
 lest I should be stopped. I took my meals in the houses, in the 
 course of the day, but would turn aside at night into some 
 wood or ravine, make a fire, and sleep before it. This I con- 
 sidered was true hunter's style, and I wished to inure myself 
 to it. 
 
 ' ' At length I arrived at Brownsville, leg- weary and way- 
 worn, and in a shabby plight, as you may suppose, having been 
 ' cami)ing out ' for some nights past. I applied at some of the 
 inferior inns, but could gain no admission. I was regarded for 
 a moment ^vith a dubious eye, and then informed they did not 
 receive foot-passengers. At last I went boldly to the principal 
 inn. The landlord appeared as unwiUing as the rest to receive 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 123 
 
 a vagrant boy beneath his roof; but his wife interfered in the 
 midst 01 his excuses, and half elbowing him aside : 
 
 " 'Where are you going, my lad? ' said she. 
 
 *"To Kentucky.' 
 
 " ' What are you going there for? ' 
 
 '"To hunt.' 
 
 " She looked earnestly at me for a moment or two. ' Have 
 you a mother living? ' said, she at length. 
 
 " ' No, madam: she has been dead for some time.' 
 
 " ' I thought so! ' cried she, warmly. ' I knew if you had a 
 mother living, you would not be here. ' From that moment the 
 good Avoman treated me with a mother's kindness. 
 
 " I remained several days beneath her roof, recovering from 
 the fatigue of my journey. While here I purchased a rifle and 
 practised daily at a mark to prepare myself for a hunter's Hfe. 
 When sufficiently recruited in strength I took leave of my 
 kind host and hostess and resumed my journey. 
 
 "At Wheehng I embarked in a flat-bottomed family boat, 
 technically called a broad-horn, a prune river conveyance in 
 those days. In this ark for two weeks I floated down the 
 Ohio. The river was as yet in all its wild beauty. Its loftiest 
 trees had not been thinned out. The forest overhung the 
 water's edge, and was occasionally skirted by immense cane- 
 brakes. Wild animals of all kinds abounded. We heard them 
 rushing through the thickets and plashing in the water. Deer 
 and bears would frequently swim across the river; others 
 would come down to the bank and gaze at the boat as it passed. 
 I was incessantly on the alert with my rifle ; but somehow or 
 other the game was never within shot. Sometimes I got a 
 chance to land and try my skill on shore. I shot squirrels and 
 small birds and even wild turkeys; but though I caug'ht 
 glimpses of deer bounding away through the woods, I never 
 could get a fair shot at them. 
 
 ' ' In this way we glided in our broad-horn past Cincinnati, 
 the 'Queen of the West,' as she is now called, then a mere 
 group of log cabins : and the site of the bustling city of Louis- 
 ville, then designated by a solitary house. As I said before, 
 the Ohio was as yet a wild river ; all was forest, forest, forest ! 
 Near the confluence of Green Eiver with the Ohio, I landed, 
 bade adieu to the broad-horn, and struck for the interior of 
 Kentucky. I had no precise plan ; my only idea was to make 
 for one of the wfldest parts of the country. I had relatives in 
 Lexington and other settled places, to whom I thought it prob- 
 
124 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 able my father would write concerning me : go as I was full of 
 manliood and independence, and resolutely bent on making 
 my way in the vrorld without assistance or control, I resolved 
 to keep clear of them all. 
 
 ''In the course of my first day's trudge, I shot a wild turkey, 
 and slung it on my back for provisions. The forest was open 
 and clear from underwood. I saw deer in abundance, but 
 always rumiing, running. It seemed to me as if these anunals 
 never stood still. 
 
 "At length I came to where a gang of half-stai^ved wolves 
 were feasting on the carcass of a deer wliich they had run 
 down; and snarling and snappmg and fighting hke so many 
 dogs. They were all so ravenous and mtent upon theu' prey 
 that they did not notice me, and I had time to make my obser- 
 vations. One, larger and fiercer than the rest, seemed to claim 
 the larger share, and to keep the others in awe. If any one 
 came too near him while eating, he would fly off, seize and 
 shake him, and then return to his repast. ' This, ' thought I, 
 ' must be the captain; if I can kill hun, I shall defeat the whole 
 army.' I accordingly took aim, fired, and down dropped the 
 old fellow. He might be only shamming dead ; so I loaded and 
 put a second baU through hun. He never budged ; aU the rest 
 ran off, and my victory was complete. 
 
 ' ' It would not be easy to describe my triumphant feelings 
 on this great achievement. I marched on with renovated 
 spirit, regarding myself as absolute lord of the forest. As 
 night drew near, I prepared for camping. My first care was to 
 collect dry wood and make a roaring fire to cook and sleep by, 
 and to frighten off wolves, and bears, and panthers. I then 
 began to pluck my turkey for supper. I had camped out 
 several times in the early part of my expedition ; but that was 
 in comparatively more settled and civihzed regions, where 
 there were no ^xil^i animals of consequence in the forest. This 
 was my first camping out m the real wildei-ness ; and I was 
 soon made sensible of the lonelmess and wildness of my situa- 
 tion. 
 
 "In a little while a concert of wolves commenced: there 
 might have been a dozen or two, but it seemed to me as if there 
 were thousands. I never heard such howling and whining. 
 Havmg prepared my turkey, I divided it into two parts, thrust 
 two sticks into one of the halves, and planted them on end 
 before the fire, the hunter's mode of roasting. The smell of 
 roast meat quickened the appetites of the wolves, and their 
 
EARLY EXri'Jn!h\\C/-:s OF JIALPII JUNG WOOD. 125 
 
 concert became truly inferiia]. They seemed to be all around 
 me, but I could only now and then get a glunpse of one of 
 them, as lie came within the glare of the light. 
 
 "I did not much care for the wolves, who I knew to be a 
 cowardly race, but I had heard terrible stories of panthers, 
 and began to fear their stealthy prowhngs in the sui-rounding 
 darlvuess. I was thirsty, and heard a brook bubbling and 
 tinkling along at no great distance, but absolutely dared not go 
 there, lest some panther might lie in wait, and spring upon me. 
 By and by a deer whistled. I had never heard one before, and 
 thought it must be a panther. I now felt uneasy lest he might 
 climb the trees, crawl along the branches overhead, and plump 
 down upon me ; so I kept my eyes fixed on the branches, until 
 my head ached. I more than once thought I saw fiery eyes 
 glaring down from among the leaves. At length I thought of 
 my sui^per and turned to see if my half-turkey was cooked. 
 In crowding so near the fire I had pressed the meat into the 
 flames, and it was consumed. I had nothing to do but toast 
 the other half, and take better ca.re of it. On that half I made 
 my supper, without salt or bread. I was stfll so possessed 
 with the dread of panthers, that I could not close my eyes all 
 night, but lay watching the trees until daybreak, when all my 
 fears were dispelled with the darkness ; and as I saw the morn- 
 ing sim sparkling down through the branches cf the trees, I 
 smiled to think how I had suiTered myself to be dismayed by 
 sounds and shadows: but I was a yomig woodsman, and a 
 strangq^ in Kentucky. 
 
 ''Having breakfasted on the remainder of my turkey, and 
 slaked my tliirst at the bubbling stream, without further dread 
 of panthers, I resumed my wayfaring with buoyant feelings. 
 I again saw deer, but as usual running, running! I tried in 
 vain to get a shot at them, and began to fear I never should. 
 I was gazing in vexation after a herd in full scamper, when I 
 was startled by a human voice. Turning round, I saw a man 
 at a short distance from me, in a hunting-dress. 
 
 " 'What are you after, my lad?' cried he. 
 
 " 'Those deer,' replied I, pettishly, 'but it seems as if they 
 never stand still.' 
 
 " Upon that he burst out laughing. ' Where are you from?' 
 said he. 
 
 " ' From Eichmond.' 
 
 '"What! Inold Virginny?' 
 
 "'The same.' 
 
an AVON- PAPFAiS. 
 
 *' 'And liovv on earth did you get here V 
 
 " 'I landed at Green River from a broad-horn.' 
 
 " 'And where are your companions?' 
 
 " 'I have none.' 
 
 '"What?— all alone!' 
 
 "'Yes/ 
 
 " ' Where are you going? ^ 
 " 'Anywhere.' 
 
 " ' And what have you come here for ? ' 
 '"To hunt' 
 
 "'Well,' said he, laughingly, 'you'll make a real hunter^ 
 there's no mistaking that ! Have you killed anything? ' 
 
 " 'Notliing but a turkey; I can't get within shot of a deer: 
 they are always running. ' 
 
 " ' Oh, I'll tell you the secret of that. You're always pushing 
 forward, and starting the deer at a distance, and gazing at 
 those that are scampering; but you must step as slow, and 
 silent, and cautious as a cat, and keep your eyes close around 
 you, and lurk from tree to tree, if you wish to get a chance at 
 deer. But come, go home with me. My name is Bill Smithers ; 
 I live not far off : stay with me a little while, and I'll teach you 
 how to hunt.' 
 
 "I gladly accepted the invitation of honest Bill Smithers. 
 We soon reached his habitation ; a mere log hut, with a square 
 hole for a window, and a chimney made of sticks and clay. 
 Here he lived, with a wife and child. He had ' girdled ' the 
 trees for an acre or two around, preparatory to clearing a 
 space for corn and potatoes. In the mean time he maintained 
 his family entirely by his rifle, and I soon found him to be a 
 first-rate huntsman. Under his tutelage I received my first 
 effective lessons in 'woodcraft.' 
 
 "The more I knew of a hunter's life, the more I relished it. 
 The country, too, which had been the promised land of my 
 boyhood, did not, like most promised lands, disappoint me. 
 No wilderness could be more beautiful than this part of Ken- 
 tucky, in those times. The forests were open and spacious, 
 with noble trees, some of which looked as if they had stood for 
 centuries. -There were beautiful prairies, too, diversified with 
 groves and clumps of trees, which looked like vast parks, 
 and in which you could see the deer nmning, at a gi^eat dis- 
 tance. In the proper season these prairies would be covered 
 in many places with wild strawberries, where your horse's 
 hoofs would be dyed to the fetlock. I thought there could not 
 
EARLY KXPliJRlENCES OF UALPIl IlINGWOOD. ] 27 
 
 be another place in the world equal to Kentucky— and I tliink 
 BO still. 
 
 ' ' After I had passed ten or twelve days with Bill Smithe]*B, 
 I thought it time to shift my quarters, for his house was 
 scarce large enough ioY his own family, and I had no idea of 
 being an incumbrance to any one. I accordingly made up my 
 bundle, shouldered my rifle, took a friendly leave of Smithers 
 and his wife, and set out in quest of a Nimrod of the wilderness, 
 one John Miller, who lived alone, nearly forty miles olf , and 
 who I hoped would be well pleased to have a hunting com- 
 panion. 
 
 "I soon found out that one of the most important items in 
 woodcraft in a new country was the skill to find one's way in 
 the wilderness. There were no regular roads in the forests, 
 but they were cut up and perplexed by paths leading in all 
 directions. Some of these w-ere made by the cattle of the set- 
 tlers, and were called 'stock-tracks,' but others had been made 
 by the immense droves of buffaloes which roamed about the 
 country, from the flood until recent times. These were called 
 buffalo-tracks, and traversed Kentucky from end to end, like 
 highways. Traces of them may still be seen in uncultivated 
 parts, or deeply worn in the rocks where they crossed the 
 mountains. I was a young Avoodsman, and sorely puzzled to 
 distinguish one kind of track from the other, or to make out 
 my course through this tangled labyrinth. While thus per- 
 plexed, I heard a distant roaring and rushing sound ; a gloom 
 stole over the forest : on looking up, when I could catch a stray 
 glimpse of the sky, I beheld the clouds rolled up like balls, the 
 lower parts as black as ink. There was now and then an ex- 
 plosion, like a burst of cannonry afar off, and the crash of a 
 falling tree. I had heard of hurricanes in the woods, and sur- 
 mised that one was at hand. It soon came crashing its way ; 
 the forest writhing, and twisting, and groaning before it. The 
 hurricane did not extend far on either side, but in a manner 
 X^loughed a furrow through the woodland ; snapping off or up- 
 rooting trees that had stood for centuries, and filling the air 
 with whirling branches. I was directly in its course, and took 
 my stand behind an immense poplar, six feet in diameter. It 
 bore for a time the full fury of the blast, bat at length began 
 to yield. Seeing it falling, I scrambled nimbly round the 
 trunk lilce a squirrel. Down it went, bearing down another 
 tree with it. I crept under the trunk as a shelter, and was 
 protected from othei- trees which foil around me, but was sore 
 
128 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 all over from the twigs and branches driven against me by the 
 blast. 
 
 "Tliiswas the only incident of consequence that occurred 
 on my way to John Miller's, where I arrived on the following 
 day, and was received by the veteran with the rougli kindness 
 of a backwoodsman. He was a gray -haired man, hardy and 
 weather-beaten, with a blue wart, like a great bead, over one 
 eye, whence he was nicknamed by the hunters ' Blue-bead 
 Miller. ' He had been in these parts from the earliest settle- 
 ments, and had signalized himself in the hard conflicts with 
 the Indians, which gained Kentucky the api^ellation of ' the 
 Bloody Ground.' In one of these lights he had had an arm 
 broken ; in another he had narrowly escaped, when hotly pur- 
 sued, by jumping from a precipice thirtj^feet high into a river. 
 
 ' ' Miller willingly received me into his house as an inmate, 
 and seemed pleased with the idea of making a hunter of me. 
 His dwelling was a small log-house, with a loft or garret of 
 boards, so that there v*^as ample room fcr both of us. Under 
 his instruction I soon made a tolerable proficiency in hunting. 
 My first exploit, of any consequence, was killing a bear. I 
 was hunting in company with two brothers, when we came 
 upon the track of Bruin, in a wood where there was an under- 
 growth of canes and grape-vines. He was scrambling up a 
 tree, when I shot him through the breast : he feU to the ground 
 and lay motionless. The brothers sent in their dog, who seized 
 the bear by the throat. Bruin raised one arm, and gave the 
 dog a hug that crushed his ribs. One yell, and all was over. 
 I don't know which was first dead, the dog or the bear. The 
 two brothers sat down and cried like children over their un- 
 fortunate dog. Yet they were mere rough huntsmen, almost 
 as wild and untameable as Indians : but they were fine fellows. 
 
 "By degrees I became known, and somewhat of a favorite 
 among the hunters of the neighborhood ; that is to say, men 
 who lived within a circle of thirty or forty miles, and came 
 occasionally to see John Miller, who was a patriarch among 
 them. They lived widely apart, in log huts and wigwams, 
 almost with the simplicity of Indians, and well-nigh as desti- 
 tute of the comforts and inventions of civilized life. They 
 seldom saw each other ; weeks, and even months Avould elapse, 
 without their visiting. When they did meet, it was very 
 much after the manner of Indians; loitering about all day, 
 without having much to say, but becoming communicative as 
 evening advanced, and sitting up half the night before the fire, 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 129 
 
 telling hunting stories, and^ terrible tales of the fights of the 
 Bloody Ground. 
 
 "Sometimes several would join in a distant hunting expedi- 
 ti(^n, or rather campaign. Expeditions of this kind lasted from 
 November until April ; during which we laid up our stock of 
 summer provisions. We shifted our hunting camps from 
 place to place, according as we found the game. They were 
 generally pitched near a run of water, and close by a cane-brake, 
 to screen us from the wind. One side of our lodge was open 
 toward the fire. Our horses were hoppled and turned loose in 
 the cane-brakes, with bells round their necks. One of the 
 party stayed at home to watch the camp, prepare the meals, 
 and keep off the wolves; the others hunted. When a hunter 
 killed a deer at a distance from the camp, he would open it and 
 take out the entrails ; then climbing a sapling, he would bend 
 it down, tie the deer to the top, and let it spring up again, so 
 as to suspend the carcass out of reach of the wolves. At night 
 he would return to the camp, and give an account* of his luck. 
 The next morning early he would get a horse out of the cane- 
 brake and bring home his game. That day he would stay at 
 home to cut up the carcass, while the others hunted. 
 
 " Our days were thus spent in silent and lonely occupations. 
 It was only at night that we would gather together before the 
 fire, and be sociable. I was a novice, and used to listen with 
 open eyes and ears to the strange and wild stories told by the 
 old hunters, and believed everything I heard. Some of their 
 stories bordered upon the supernatural. They believed that 
 their rifles might be spell-bound, so as not to be able to kill a 
 buffalo, even at arm's length. This superstition they had 
 derived from the Indians, who often think the white hunters 
 have laid a spell upon their rifles. Miller partook of this 
 superstition, and used to tell of his rifle's having a spell upon 
 it ; but it often seemed to me to be a shuffling way of account- 
 ing for a bad shot. If a hunter grossly missed his aim he 
 would ask, 'Who shot last with this rifle?' — and hint that he 
 must have charmed it. The sure mode to disenchant the gun 
 was to shoot a silver bullet out of it. 
 
 " By the opening of spring we would generally have quanti- 
 ties of bear's-meat and venison salted, dried, and smoked, and 
 numerous packs of skins. We would then make the best of 
 our way home from our distant hunting-grounds ; transporting 
 our spoils, sometimes in canoes along the rivers, sometimes 
 on horseback over land, and our return would often be celo- 
 
130 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 brated by feasting and dancing, in true backwoods style. I 
 have given you some idea of our hunting ; let me now give you 
 a sketch of our frolicking. 
 
 ''It was on our return from a winter s hunting in the neigh- 
 borhood of Green River, when we received notice that tliore 
 was to b(; a grand frolic at Bob Mosely's, to gi-eet the hunters. 
 This Bob Mosely was a prime fellow throughout the country. 
 He was an indifferent hunter, it is true, and rather lazy to 
 boot ; but then he could play the fiddle, and that was enough 
 to make hmi of consequence. Ther^ was no other man within 
 a hundred miles that could play the fiddle, so there was no 
 having a regular frolic without Bob !Mosely. The hunters, 
 therefore, were always ready to give him a share of their 
 game in exchange for his music, and Bob was always ready to 
 get up a carousal, whenever there was a party retm-ning from 
 a hunting expedition. The present frohc was to take place 
 at Bob Mosely's own house, which was on the Pigeon Eoost 
 Fork of the Muddy, which is a branch of Rough Creek, which 
 is a branch of Green River. 
 
 "Everybody was agog for the revel at Bob Moseley's; and as 
 all the fashion of the neighborhood was to be there, I thought 
 I must brush up for the occasion. My leathern hunting-dress, 
 which was the only one I had, was somewhat the worse for 
 wear, it is true, and considerably japaimed with blood and 
 gi'ease; but I was up to hunting expedients. Getting into a 
 periogue, I paddled off to a part of the Green River where 
 there was sand and clay, that ixdght serve for soap ; then taking 
 off my dress, I scrubbed and scoured it, until I thought it looked 
 very well. I then put it on the end of a stick, and hung it out 
 of the periog-ue to dry, while I stretched myself very comfort- 
 ably on the green bank of the river. Unluckily a flaw struck 
 the periogue, and tipped over the stick : down went my dress 
 to the bottom of the river, and I never saw it more. Here was 
 I, left almost in a state of nature. I managed to make a kind 
 of Robinson Crusoe garb of undressed skins, with the hair on. 
 wliicli enabled me to get home with decency; but my dream of 
 gayety and fashion was at an end ; for how could I tliink of 
 figLiring in high life at the Pigeon Roost, equipped like a mere 
 Orson? 
 
 ' ' Old Miller, who really began to take some pride in me, was 
 confounded when ho understood that I did not intend to go to 
 Bob Mosely's ; but when I told him my niisf ortiuie, and that I 
 had no dress: ' By the powers,' cried he, ' but you shall go, and 
 
KAULT EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 131 
 
 you shall be the best dressed and the best mounted lad 
 there ! ' 
 
 "He immediately set to work to cut out and make up a 
 hunting-shirt of dressed deer-skin, gayly fringed at the shoul- 
 ders, with leggings of the same, fringed from hip to heel. He 
 then made me a rakish raccoon-cap, with a flaunting tail to it ; 
 mounted me on his best horse ; and I may say, wdthout vanity, 
 that I was one of the smartest fellows that figured on that 
 occasion, at the Pigeon Roost Fork of the Muddy. 
 
 "It was no small occasion, either, let me tell you. Bob 
 Mosely's house was a tolerably large bark shanty, with a clap- 
 board roof ; and there were assembled all the young hunters and 
 pretty girls of the country, for many a mile round. The young 
 men were in their best hunting-dresses, but not one could com- 
 pare with mine ; and my raccoon-cap, with its flowing tail , was 
 the admiration of everybody. The girls were mostly in doe- 
 skin dresses ; for there was no spinning and weaving as yet in 
 the woods ; nor any need of it. I never saw girls that seemed 
 to me better dressed ; and I was somewhat of a judge, having 
 seen fashions at Richmond. We had a hearty dinner, and a 
 merry one ; for there was Jemmy Kiel, famous for raccoon- 
 hunting, and Bob Tarleton, and Wesley Pigman, and Joe Tay- 
 lor, and several other prime fellows for a frolic, that made all 
 ring again, and laughed, that you might have heard them a 
 mile. 
 
 "After dinner we began dancing, and were hard at it, when, 
 about three o'clock in the afternoon, there was a new arrival— 
 the two daughters of old Simon Schultz ; two young ladies that 
 affected fashion and late hours. Their arrival had nearly put 
 an end to all our merriment. I must go a little roundabout in 
 my story to explain to you how that happened. 
 
 " As old Schultz, the father, was one day looking in the cane- 
 brakes for his cattle, he came upon the track of horses. Ho 
 knew they were none of his, and that none of his neighbors had 
 horses about that place. They must be stray horses ; or must 
 belong to some traveller who had lost his way, as the track led 
 nowhere. He accordingly followed it up, imtil he came to an 
 unlucky peddler, with tv\^o or three pack-horses, who had been 
 bewildered among the cattle-tracks, and had wandered for two 
 or three days among woods and cane-brakes, until he was almost 
 famished. 
 
 " Old Schultz brought him to his house ; fed him on venison, 
 bear's meat, and hominy, and at the end of a week put him in 
 
132 
 
 TUB CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 prime condition. The peddler could not sufficiently express his 
 thankfulness ; and when about to depart, inquired what he had 
 to pay ^ Old Schultz stepped back with surprise. ' Stranger,' 
 said he, ' you have been welcome mider my roof. I've given 
 you nothing but wild meat and hominy, because I had no bet- 
 ter, but have been glad of your company. You are welcome 
 to stay as long as you please ; but, by Zounds ! if any one offers 
 to pay Simon Schultz for food he affronts him ! ' So saying, he 
 walked out in a huff. 
 
 " The peddler admired the hospitality of his host, but could 
 not reconcile it to his conscience to go away without making 
 some recompense. There were honest Simon's two daughters, 
 two strapping, red-haired girls. He opened his packs and dis- 
 played riches before them of which they had no conception ; 
 for in those days there were no country stores in those parts, 
 with their artificial finery and trinketry ; and this was the fii*st 
 peddler that had wandered into that jxirt of the wilderness. 
 The girls were for a time completely dazzled, and knew not 
 what to choose: but what caught tlieir eyes most were two 
 looking-glasses, about the size of a dollar, set in gilt tin. They 
 had never seen the like before, having used no other mirror 
 than a pail of water. The peddler i^resented them with these 
 jewels, without the least hesitation; nay, he gallantly hung 
 them round their necks by red ribbons, almost as fine as the 
 glasses themselves. This done, he took his departure, leaving 
 them as much astonished as two princesses in a fairy tale, that 
 have received a magic gift from an enchanter. 
 
 **It was with these looking-glasses, hung round their necks 
 as lockets, by red ribbons, that old Schultz's daughters made 
 their appearance at three o'clock in the afternoon, at the frolic 
 at Bob Mosely's, on the Pigeon Roost Fork of the Muddy. 
 
 ''By the powers, but it was an event! Such a thing had 
 never before been seen in Kentucky. Bob Tarleton, a strap- 
 ping fellow, with a head like a chestnut-burr, and a look like a 
 boar in an apple orchard, stepped up, caught hold of the look- 
 ing-glass of one of the girls, and gazing at it for a moment, 
 cried out : ' Joe Taylor, corne here ! come here ! I'll be dara'd 
 if Patty Schultz ain't got a locket that you can see your face in, 
 as clear as in a spring of water ! ' 
 
 ** In a twinkling all the young hunters gathered round old 
 Schultz's daughters. I, who knew what looking-glasses wore, 
 did not budge. Some of the girls who sat near me were ex- 
 cessively mortified at finding themselves thu5 deserted. I hea.. d 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 133 
 
 Peggy Pugh say to Sally Pigman, * Goodness knows, it's well 
 Schiiltz's daughters is got them things round their necks, for 
 it's the lirst time the young men crowded round them ! ' 
 
 "1 saw immediately the danger of the case. We were a 
 small community, and could not afford to be spht up by feuds. 
 So 1 stepped up to the girls, and whispered to them: 'Polly,' 
 said I, 'those lockets are powerful fine, and become you 
 amazingly; but you don't consider that the country is not 
 advanced enough in these parts for such things. You and I 
 understand these matters, but these people don't. Fine things 
 like these may do very well in the old settlements, but they 
 won't answer at the Pigeon Eoost Fork of the Muddy. You 
 had better lay them aside for the present, or we shall have no 
 peace.' 
 
 " Polly and her sister luckily saw their error; they took off 
 the lockets, laid them aside, and harmony was restored : other- 
 wise, I verily believe there would have been an end of our 
 commLmity. Indeed, notwithstanding the great sacrifice they 
 made on this occasion, I do not think old Schultz's daughters 
 were ever much liked afterward among the young womxcn. 
 
 " This was the first time that looking-glasses were ever seen 
 in the Green River part of Kentucky. 
 
 ' ' I had now lived some time w^th old Miller, and had become 
 a tolerably expert hunter. Game, however, began to grow 
 scarce. The buffalo had gathered together, as if by universal 
 understanding, and had crossed the Mississippi, never to re- 
 turn. Strangers kept pouring into the country, clearing away 
 the forests, and building in all directions. The hunters began 
 to grow restive. Jemmy Kiel, the same of whom I have already 
 spoken for his skill in raccoon catching, came to me one day : 
 ' I can't stand this any longer,' said he ; ' w^e're getting too thick 
 here. Simon Schultz crowds me so, that I have no comfort of 
 my life, ' 
 
 " ' "Why, how you talk ! ' said I ; ' Simon Schultz lives twelve 
 miles off.' 
 
 " 'No matter; his cattle run with mine, and I've no idea of 
 living where nnothcr man's cattle can run with mine. That's 
 too close neighborhood; I want elbow-room. This countr}-, 
 too, is gi'owing too poor to live in ; there's no game ; so two or 
 three of us have made up oiu' minds to follow the buffalo to the 
 Missouri, and we should like to have you of the party.' Other 
 hunters of my acquaintance talked in the same manner. This 
 set me thinking; but the more I thought the more I was per- 
 
VM 
 
 THE CRA YON PAPERS. 
 
 plexod. I had no one to advise TNdth ; old Miller and h^.s asso- 
 ciates knew but of one mode of life, and I had had no experience 
 in any other: but I had a wider scope of thought. When out 
 hunting alone I used to forget the sport, and sit for hours to- 
 gether on the trunk of a tree, with rifle in hand, buried in 
 tliought, and debating with myself : ' Shall I go with Jenmiy 
 Kiel and his company, or shall I remain here? If I remain here 
 there will soon be nothing left to hunt ; but am I to be a hunter 
 all my life? Have not I something more in me than to be 
 carrying a rifle on my shoulder, day after day, and dodging 
 about after bears, and deer, and other brute beasts? ' My vanity 
 told me I had ; and I called to mind my boyish boast to my 
 sister, that I would never return home, until I returned a 
 member of Congress from Kentucky ; but was this the way to 
 fit myself for such a station? 
 
 "Various plans passed through my mind, but they were 
 abandoned almost as soon as formed. At length I determined 
 on becoming a lawyer. True it is, I knew almost nothing. I 
 had left school before I had learned beyond the ' rule of three.' 
 ' Never mind, ' said I to myself, resolutely ; ' I am a terrible 
 fellow for hanging on to anything when I've once made up my 
 mind ; and if a man has but ordinary capacity, and will set to 
 work with heart and soul, and stick to it, he can do almost 
 anything.' With this maxim, which has been pretty much 
 my main-stay throughout life, I fortified myself in my deter- 
 mination to attempt the law. But how was I to set about it? 
 I must quit this forest life, and go to one or other of the towns, 
 where I might be able to study, and to attend the courts. This 
 too required funds. I examined into the state of my finances. 
 The purse given me by my father had remained untouched, in 
 the bottom of an old chest up in the loft, for money was scarcely 
 needed in these parts. I had bargained away the skins ac- 
 quired in hunting, for a horse and various other matters, on 
 which, in case of need, I could raise funds. I therefore thought 
 I could make shift to maintain myself imtil I was fitted for the 
 bar. 
 
 " I informed my worthy host and patron, old Miller, of my 
 plan. He shook his head at my turning my back upon the 
 woods, when I was in a fair way of making a first-rate hunter ; 
 but he made no effort to dissuade me. I accordingly set off in 
 September, on horseback, intending to visit Lexington, Frank- 
 fort, and other of the principal towns, in search of a favorable 
 place to prosecute my studies. My choice was made sooner 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 135 
 
 than I expected. I had put up one night at Bardstown, and 
 found, on inquiry, that I could get comfortable board and ac- 
 commodation in a private family for a dollar and a half a week. 
 I liked the j^lace, and resolved to look no farther. So the next 
 morning I prepared to turn my face homeward,, and take my 
 final leave of forest life. 
 
 "I had taken my breakfast, and was waiting for my horse, 
 when, m pacing up and down the piazza, I saw a young girl 
 seated near a window, evidently a visitor. She was very 
 pretty; with auburn hair and blue eyes, and was dressed in 
 white. I had seen nothing of the kind since I had left Rich- 
 mond ; and at that time I was too much of a boy to be much 
 struck by female charms. She was so delicate and dainty- 
 looking, so different from the hale, buxom, brown girls of the 
 woods ; and then her white dress ! — it was perfectly dazzling ! 
 Never was poor youth more taken by surprise, and suddenly 
 bewitched. My heart yearned to know her; but how was I 
 to accost her? I had grown wild in the woods, and had none 
 of the habitudes of polite life. Had she been like Peggy Pugh 
 or Sally Pigman, or any other of my leathern-dressed belles of 
 the Pigeon Roost, I should have approached her without dread ; 
 nay, had she been as fair as Scliultz's daughters, with their 
 looking-glass lockets, I should not have hesitated; but that 
 white dress, and those auburn ringlets, and blue eyes, and deli- 
 cate locks, quite daunted, while they fascinated me. I don't 
 know what put it into my head, but I thought, all at once, that 
 I would kiss her ! It would take a long acquaintance to arrive 
 at such a boon, but I might seize upon it by sheer robbery. 
 Nobody knew me here. I would just step in, snatch a kiss, 
 mount my horse, and ride off. She would not be the worse for 
 it ; and that kiss — oh ! I should die if I did not get it ! 
 
 "I gave no time for the thought to cool, but entered the 
 house, and stepped lightly into the room. She was seated with 
 her back to the door, looking out at the window, and did not 
 hear my approach. I tapped her chair, and as she turned and 
 looked up, I snatched as sweet a kiss as ever was stolen, and 
 vanished in a twinkling. The next moment I was on horse- 
 back, galloping homeward; my very ears tinghng at what I 
 had done. 
 
 "On my return home I sold my horse, and turned every 
 thing to cash; and found, with the remains of the paternal 
 purse, that I bad nearly four hundred dollars; a little capital 
 which I resolved to manage with the strictest economy. 
 
136 
 
 THE CRA YON PAPERS. 
 
 "It was hard parting with old Miller, who had heen Hke a 
 father to me ; it cost me, too, something of a struggle to give 
 up the free, independent wild-wood life I had hitherto led ; but 
 I had marked out my course, and had never been one to flinch 
 or turn back. 
 
 "I footed it sturdily to Bardstown; took possession of the 
 quarters for which I had bargained, shut myself up, and set to 
 work with might and main to study. But what a task I had 
 before me ! I hpvd everything to learn ; not merely law, but all 
 the elementary branches of knowledge. I read and read, for 
 sixteen hours out of the f our-and-twenty ; but the more I read 
 the more I became aware of my own ignorance, and shed bitter 
 tears over my deficiency. It seemed as if the wilderness of 
 knowledge expanded and grew more perplexed as I advanced. 
 Every height gained only revealed a wider region to be trav- 
 ersed, and nearly filled me with despair. I grew moody, silent, 
 and unsocial, but studied on doggedly and incessantly. The 
 only person with whom I held any conversation was the worthy 
 man in vv^hose house I was quartered. He was honest and well- 
 meaning, but perfectly ignorant, and I beheve would have 
 liked me much better if I had not been so much addicted to 
 reading. He considered all books fiUed with lies and imposi- 
 tions, and seldom could look into one without finding something 
 to rouse his spleen. Nothing put him into a gi^eater passion 
 than the assertion that the world turned on its own axis every 
 f our-and-twenty hours. He swore it was an outrage upon com- 
 mon sense. ' Why, if it did, ' said he, ' there would not be a 
 drop of water in the well by morning, and all the milk and 
 cream in the dairy would be turned topsy-turvy ! And then to 
 talk of the earth going round the sun! How do they know it? 
 I've seen the sun rise every morning, and set every evening, for 
 more than thirty years. They must not talk to me about the 
 earth's going round the sun ! ' 
 
 "At another time he was in a perfect fret at being told the 
 distance between the sun and moon. ' How can any one teU 
 the distance?' cried he. 'Who surveyed it? who carried the 
 chain? By Jupiter ! they only talk this way before me to annoy 
 me. But then there's some people of sense who give in to tliis 
 cursed humbug ! There's Judge Broadnax, now, one of the best 
 la^vyers we have ; isn't it surprising he should believe in such 
 stuff ? Why, sir, the other da> I heard him talk of the distance 
 from a star he called Mars to the sun ! He must have got it 
 out of one or other of those confounded books he's so fond of 
 
EARL7 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 137 
 
 reading; a book some impudent fellow has written, who knew 
 nobody could swear the distance was more or less.' 
 
 " For my own part, feeling my own deficiency in scientific 
 lore, I never ventured to unsettle his conviction that the sun 
 made his daily circuit round the eai-th ; and for aught I said to 
 the contrary, he lived and died in that belief. 
 
 "I had been about a year at Bardstown, living thus stu- 
 diously and reclusely, when, as I was one day walking the 
 street, I met two young girls, in one of whom I immediately 
 recalled the little beauty whom I had kissed so impudently. 
 She blushed up to the eyes, and so did I ; but we both passed 
 on without further sign of recognition. This second glimpse of 
 her, however, caused an odd fluttering about my heart. I 
 could not get her out of my thoughts for days. She quite 
 interfered with my studies. I tried to think of her as a mere 
 child, but it would not do ; she had improved in beauty, and 
 was tending toward womanhood ; and then I myself was but 
 little better than a stripling. However, I did not attempt to 
 seek after her, or even to find out who she was, but returned 
 doggedly to my books. By degrees she faded from my 
 thoughts, or if she did cross them occasionally, it was only to 
 increase my despondency ; for I feared that with all my exer- 
 tions, I should never be able to fit myself for the bar, or enable 
 myself to support a wife. 
 
 "One cold stormy evening I was seated, in dumpish mood, 
 in the bar-room of the inn, looking into the fire, and turnmg 
 over uncomfortable thoughts, when I was accosted by some 
 one who had entered the room without my perceiving it. I 
 looked up, and saw before me a tall and, as I thought, pom- 
 pous-looking man, arrayed in small-clothes and knee-buckles, 
 with powdered head, and shoes nicely blacked and polished; 
 a style of dress unparalleled in those days, in that rough 
 country. I took a pique against him from the very portlinesa 
 of his appearance, and stateliness of his manner, and bristled 
 up as he accosted me. He demanded if my name was noli 
 Ringwood. 
 
 ' ' I was startled, for I supposed myself perfectly incog. ; but 
 I answered in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Your family, I believe, lives in Richmond? ' 
 
 "My gorge began to rise. 'Yes, sir,' replied I, sulkily, 'my 
 family does lives in Richmond.' 
 
 " ' And what, may I ask, has brought you into this part of 
 the country?' 
 
138 
 
 TUB CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 'Zounds, sir! 'cried I, starting on my feet, 'what busi- 
 ness is it of yours? How dare you to question me in this 
 manner? ' 
 
 "The entrance of some persons prevented a reply; but I 
 walked up and down the bar-room, fuming with conscious in- 
 dependence and insulted dignity, while the pompous-looking 
 personage, who had thus trespassed ui)on my spleen, retired 
 fsathout proffering another word. 
 
 " The next day, while seated in my room, some one tapped at 
 the door, and, on being bid to enter, the stranger in the pow- 
 dered head, small-clothes, and shining shoes and buckles, 
 walked in with ceremonious courtesy, 
 
 * ' My boyish pride was again in arms ; but he subdued me. 
 He was formal, but kind and friendly. He knew my family 
 and understood my situation, and the dogged struggle I was 
 making. A httle conversation, when my jealous pride was 
 once put to rest, drew everything from me. He was a lawyer 
 of experience and of extensive practice, and offered at once to 
 take me with him, and direct my studies. The offer was too 
 advantageous and gratifying not to be immediately accepted. 
 From that time I began to look up. I was put into a proper 
 track, and was enabled to study to a proper purpose. I made 
 acquaintance, too, with some of the young men of the place, 
 who were in the same pursuit, and was encouraged at finding 
 that I could ' hold my own ' in argument with them. We insti- 
 tuted a debating club, in which I soon became prominent and 
 popular. Men of talents, engaged in other pursuits, joined it, 
 and this diversified our subjects, and put me on various tracks 
 of inquiry. Ladies, too, attended some of our discussions, atid 
 this gave them a polite tone, and had an influence on the man- 
 ners of the debaters. My legal patron also may have had a 
 favorable effect in correcting any roughness contracted in m^- 
 hunter's life. He was calculated to bend me in an opposite 
 direction, for he was of the old school ; quoted Chesterfield on 
 all occasions, and talked of Sir Charles Grandison, who was 
 his beau ideal. It was Sir Charles Grandison, however, Ken- 
 tuckyized. 
 
 ' ' I had always been fond of female society. My experience, 
 however, had hitherto been among the rough daughters of the 
 backwoodsmen; and I felt an awe of young ladies in 'store 
 clothes, ' and delicately brought up. Two or three of the mar- 
 ried ladies of Bardstown, who had heard me at the debating 
 club, determined that I was a genius, and undertook to bring 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 139 
 
 me out. I believe I really Snproved under their hands ; became 
 quiet where I had been shy or sulky, and easy where I had 
 been impudent. 
 
 ''I called to take tea one evening with one of these ladies, 
 when to my surprise, and somewhat to my confusion, I found 
 with her the identical blue-eyed little beauty whom I had so 
 audaciously kissed. I was formally introduced to her, but 
 neitlier of us betrayed any sign of previous acquaintance, ex- 
 cept by blushing to the eyes. While tea was getting ready, 
 the lady of the house went out of the room to give some direc- 
 tions, and left us alone. 
 
 "Heavens and earth, what a situation! I would have given 
 all the pittance I was worth to have been in the deepest dell of 
 the forest. I felt the necessity of saying something in excuse 
 of my former rudeness, but I could not conjure up an idea, 
 nor utter a word. Every moment matters were growing 
 worse. I felt at one time tempted to do as I had done when 
 I robbed her of the kiss: bolt from the room, and take to 
 flight; but I was chamed to the spot, for I really longed to 
 gain her good- will. 
 
 "At length I plucked up courage, on seeing that she was 
 equally confused with myself, and walking desperately up to 
 her, I exclaimed : 
 
 " 'I have been trying to muster up something to say to you, 
 but I cannot. I feel that I am in a horrible scrape. Do have 
 pity on me, and help me out of it.' 
 
 "A smile dimpled about her mouth, and played among the 
 blushes of her cheek. She looked up with a shy, but arch 
 glance of the eye, that expressed a volume of comic recollec- 
 tion; we both broke into a laugh, and from that moment all 
 went on well. 
 
 " A few evenings afterward I met her at a dance, and pro- 
 secuted the acquaintance. I soon became deeply attached to 
 her ; paid my court regularly ; and before I was nineteen years 
 of age, had engaged myself to marry her. I spoke to her 
 mother, a widow lady, to ask her consent. She seemed to 
 demur; upon which, with my customary haste, I told her 
 there would be no use in opposing the match, for if her daugh- 
 ter chose to have me, I would take her, in defiance of her 
 family, and the whole world. 
 
 "She laughed, and told me I need not give myself any un- 
 easiness; there would be no unreasonable opposition. She 
 knew my family -and all about me. The only obstacle was. 
 
140 
 
 THE CRA YON PAPERS. 
 
 that I had no means of supporting a wife, and she had noth- 
 ing to give with her daughter. 
 
 "No matter; at that moment everything was bright before 
 me. I was in one of my sanguine moods. I feared nothing, 
 doubted nothing. So it vv^as agreed that I should prosecute my 
 studies, obtain a hcense, and as soon as I should be fairly 
 launched in business, we would be married. 
 
 "I now prosecuted my studies with redoubled ardor, and 
 was up to my ears in law, when I received a letter from my 
 father, who had heard of me and my whereabouts. He ap- 
 plauded the course I had taken, but advised me to lay a foun- 
 dation of general knowledge, and offered to defray my expenses, 
 if I would go to college. I felt the want of a general education, 
 and was staggered with this offer. It militated somewhat 
 against the self-dependent course I had so proudly, or rather 
 conceitedly, marked out for myself, but it would enable me to 
 enter more advantageously upon my legal career. I talked 
 over the matter with the lovely girl to whom I was engaged. 
 She sided in opinion with my father, and talked so disinter- 
 estedly, yet tenderly, that if possible, I loved her more than 
 ever. I reluctantly, therefore, agreed to go to college for a 
 couple of years, though it must necessarily postpone our 
 union. 
 
 "Scarcely had I formed this resolution, when her mother 
 was taken ill^ and died, leaving her without a protector. This 
 again altered all my plans. I felt as if I could protect her. I 
 gave up all idea of collegiate studies; persuaded myself that 
 by dint of industry and application I might overcome the 
 deficiencies of education, and resolved to take out a hcense as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 "That very autumn I was admitted to the bar, and within a 
 month afterward was married. We were a young couple, she 
 not much above sixteen, I not quite twenty ; and both almost 
 without a dollar in the world. The establishment which we 
 ' set up was suited to our circumstances : a log-house, with two 
 small rooms ; a bed, a table, a half dozen chairs, a half dozen 
 knives and forks, a half dozen spoons; everything by half 
 dozens; a little delft ware; everything in a small way: we 
 were so poor, but then so happy ! 
 
 "We had not been married many days, when court was held 
 at a county town, about twenty-five miles distant. It was 
 accessary for me to go there, and put myself in the way of 
 business ; but how was I to go ? I had expended all my means 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 141 
 
 on our establishment ; and then it was hard parting with my 
 wife so soon after marriage. However, go I must. Money 
 must be made, or we should soon have the wolf at the door. 
 I accordingly borrowed a horse, and borrowed a little cash, 
 and rode off from my door, leaving my wife standing at it, 
 and waving her hand after me. Her last look, so sweet and 
 beaming, went to my heart. I felt as if I could go through 
 lire and water for her. 
 
 "I arrived at the county town on a cool October evening. 
 The inn was crowded, for the court was to commence on the 
 following day. I knew no one, and wondered how I, a stranger, 
 and a mere youngster, was to make my way in such a crowd, 
 and to get business. The pubhc room was thronged with the 
 idlers of the country, who gather together on such occasions. 
 There was some drinking going forward, with much noise, and 
 a little altercation. Just as 1 entered the room I saw a rough 
 bully of a felloAv, who was partly intoxicated, strike an old 
 man. He came swaggering by me, and elbowed me as he 
 passed. I immediately knocked him down, and kicked him 
 into the street. I needed no better introduction. In a mo- 
 ment I had a dozen rough shakes of the hand, and invitations 
 to drink, and found myself quite a personage in this rough 
 assembly. 
 
 ''The next morning the court opened. I took my seat 
 among the lawyers, but felt as a mere spectator, not having 
 a suit in progress or prospect, nor having any idea where busi- 
 ness was to come from. In the course of the morning a man 
 was put at the bar, charged with passing counterfeit money, 
 and was asked if he was ready for trial. He answered in the 
 negative. He had been confined in a place where there were 
 no lawyers, and had not had an opportunity of consulting any. 
 He was told to choose counsel from the lawyers present, and 
 to be ready for trial on the following day. He looked round 
 the court and selected me. I was thunder-struck. I could not 
 tell why he should make such a choice. I, a beardless young- 
 ster; unpractised at the bar; perfectly unknown. I felt diffi- 
 dent yet delighted, and could have hugged the rascal. 
 
 "Before leaving the court he gave me one hundred doUars 
 in a bag as a retaining fee. I could scarcely believe my senses ; 
 it seemed like a dream. The heaviness of the fee spoke but 
 Hghtly in favor of his innocence, but that was no affair of 
 mine. I was to be advocate, not judge nor jury. I followed 
 him to jail, and learned from him all the particulars of his 
 
142 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 case ; from thence I went to the clerk's office and took minutes 
 of the indictment. I then examined the law on the subject, 
 and prepared my brief in my room. All this occupied me 
 until midnight, when I went to bed and tried to sleep. It was 
 all in vain. Never in my life was I more wide-awake. A host 
 of thoughts and fancies kept rushing through my mind ; the 
 shower of gold that had so expectedly fallen into my lap ; the 
 idea of my poor Httle ^\ite at home, that I was to astonish 
 with my good fortune ! But then the awful responsibility I 
 had undertaken !— to speak for the first time in a strange 
 court; the expectations the culprit had evidently formed of 
 my talents; all these, and a crowd of similar notions, kept 
 whirling through my mind. I tossed about all night, fearing 
 the morning would find me exhausted and incompetent ; in a 
 word, the day dawned on me, a miserable fellow ! 
 
 " I got up feverish and nervous. I walked out before break- 
 fast, striving to collect my thoughts, and tranquilhze my feel- 
 ings. It was a bright morning ; the air was pure and frosty. 
 I bathed my forehead and my hands m a beautiful running 
 stream ; but I could not allay the fever heat that raged within. 
 I returned to breakfast, but could not eat. A single cup of 
 coffee formed my repast. It was time to go to court, and I 
 went there with a throbbing heart. I believe if it had not been 
 for the thoughts of my little wife, in her lonely log house, I 
 should have given back to the man his hundred dollars, and 
 relinquished the cause. I took my seat, looking, I am con- 
 vinced, more like a culprit than the rogue I was to defend. 
 
 ' ' When the time came for me to speak, my heart died with- 
 in me. I rose embarrassed and dismayed, and stammered in 
 opening my cause. I went on from bad to worse, and felt as 
 if I was going down hill. Just then the public prosecutor, a 
 man of talents, but somewhat rough in his practice, made a 
 sarcastic remark on something I had said. It was like an 
 electric spark, and ran tinghng through every vein in my 
 body. In an instant my diffidence was gone. My whole spirit 
 was in arms. I answered with promptness and iDitterness, for 
 I felt the cruelty of such an attack upon a novice in my situa- 
 tion. The pubhc prosecutor made a kind of apology; this, 
 from a man of his redoubted powers, was a vast concession. 
 I renewed my argument with a fearless glow ; carried the case 
 through triumphantly, and the man was acquitted. 
 
 "This was the making of me Everybody was curious to 
 know who this new lawyer was, that had thus suddenly risen 
 
EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. I43 
 
 among them, and bearded the attorney-general at the very 
 outset. The story of my debut at the inn on the preceding 
 evening, when I had knocked down a bully, and kicked him 
 out of doors for striking an old man, was circulated with 
 favorable exaggerations. Even my very beardless chin and 
 juvenile countenance were in my favor, for people gave me 
 far more credit than I really deserved. The chance business 
 which occurs in our country courts came thronging upon m6. 
 I was repeatedly employed in other causes ; and by Saturday 
 night, when the court closed, and I had paid my bill at the 
 inn, I found myself with a hundred and fifty dollars in silver, 
 three hundred dollars in notes, and a horse that I afterward 
 sold for two hundred dollars more. 
 
 "Never did miser gloat on his money with more delight. I 
 locked the door of my room ; piled the money in a heap upon 
 the table ; walked round it ; sat with my elbows on the table, 
 and my chin upon my hands, and gazed upon it. Was I 
 thinking of the money? No! I was thinking of my little 
 wife at home. Another sleepless night ensued; but what a 
 night of golden fancies, and splendid air-castles ! As soon as 
 morning dawned, I was up, mounted the borrowed horse with 
 which I had come to court, and led the other which I had re- 
 ceived as a fee. All the way I was delighting myself with the 
 thoughts of the surprise I had in store for my little wife, for 
 both of us had expected nothing but that I should spend all 
 the money I had borrowed, and should return in debt. 
 
 " Oar meeting was joyous, as you may suppose: but I played 
 the part of the Indian hunter, who, when he returns from the 
 chase, never for a time speaks of his success. She had pre- 
 pared a snug little rustic meal for me, and while it was getting 
 ready I seated myself at an old-fashioned desk in one corner, 
 and began to count over my money, and put it away. She 
 came to me before I had finished, and asked who I had col- 
 lected the money for. 
 
 "'For myself, to be sure,' replied I, with affected coolness; 
 ' I made it at court.' 
 
 " She looked me for a moment in the face, incredulously. I 
 tried to keep my countenance, and to play Indian, but it would 
 not do. My muscles began to twitch ; my feelings all at once 
 gave way. I caught her in my arms; laughed, cried, and 
 danced about the room, like a crazy man. From that time 
 forward, we never wanted for money. 
 
 " I had not been long in successful practice, when I was sur- 
 
lU 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 prised one day by a visit from my woodland patron, old Miller. 
 The tidings of my prosperity had reached him in the wilder- 
 ness, and he had walked one hundred and fifty miles on foot 
 to see me. By that time I had improved my domestic estab- 
 lishment, and had all things comfortable about me. He looked 
 around him with a wondering eye, at what he considered luxu- 
 ries and superfluities ; but supposed they were all right in my 
 Eiltered circumstances. He said he did not know, upon the 
 whole, but that I had acted for the best. It is true, if game 
 had continued plenty, it would have been a folly for me to quit 
 a hunter's life ; but hunting was pretty nigh done up in Ken- 
 tucky. The buffalo had gone to Missouri ; the elk were nearly 
 gone also ; deer, too, were growing scarce ; they might last out 
 his time, as he was gi-owing old, but they were not worth set- 
 ting up life upon. He had once hved on the borders of Vir- 
 ginia. Game grew scarce there ; he followed it up across Ken- 
 tucky, and now it was again giving him the sUp ; but he was 
 too old to follow it farther. 
 
 " He remained with us three days. My wife did everything 
 in her power to make him comfortable ; but at the end of that 
 time he said he must be off again to the woods. He was tilled 
 of the village, and of having so many people about him. He 
 accordingly returned to the 's\i]derness and to hunting life. 
 But I fear he did not make a good end of it ; for I understand 
 that a few years before his death he married Sukey Thomas, 
 who lived at the White Oak Eim." 
 
 THE SEMINOLES. 
 
 From the time of the chimerical cruisings of Old Ponce de 
 Leon in search of the Fountain of Youth, the avaricious expe- 
 dition of Pamphilo de Narvaez in quest of gold, and the chival- 
 rous enterprise of Hernando de Soto, to discover and conquer 
 a second Mexico, the natives of Florida have been continually 
 subjected to the invasions and encroachments of white men. 
 They have resisted them perseveringly but fruitlessly, and are 
 now battling a.mid swamps and morasses for the last foothold 
 of their native soil, with all the ferocity of despair. Can we 
 wonder at the bitterness of a hostility that has been handed 
 down from father to son. for upward of three centuries, and 
 
THE SEMINOLES. 
 
 145 
 
 exasperated by the wrongs and miseries of each succeeding 
 generation ! The very name of the savages with whom we are 
 fighting betokens their fallen and homeless condition. Formed 
 of the wrecks of once powerful tribes, and driven from their 
 ancient seats of prosperity and dominion, they are known by 
 the name of the Seminoles, or "Wanderers." 
 
 Cartram, who travelled through Florida in the latter part of 
 the last century, speaks of passing through a great extent of 
 ancient Indian fields, now silent and deserted, overgi'own with 
 forests, orange groves, and rank vegetation, the site of the 
 ancient Alachua, the capital of a famous and powerful tribe, 
 who in days of old could assemble thousands at bull-play and 
 other athletic exercises "over these then happy fields and 
 green plains." "Almost every step we take," adds he, " over 
 these fertile heights, discovers the remains and traces of 
 ancient human habitations and cultivation. " 
 
 About the year 1763, when Florida was ceded by the Span- 
 iards to the Enghsh, we are told that the Indians generally 
 retired from the towns and the neighborhood of the whites, 
 and burying themselves in the deep forests, intricate swamps 
 and horn mocks, and vast savannas of the interior, devoted 
 themselves to a pastoral life, and the rearing of horses and 
 cattle. These are the people that received the name of the 
 Seminoles, or Wanderers, which they still retain. 
 
 Bartram gives a pleasing picture of them at the time he vis- 
 ited them in their wilderness ; where their distance from the 
 abodes of the white man gave them a transient quiet and 
 security. " This handful of people," says he, " possesses a vast 
 territory, all East and the greatest part of West Florida, 
 which being naturally cut and divided into thousands of 
 islets, knolls, and eminences, by the innumerable rivers, lakes, 
 swamps, vast savannas, and ponds, form so many secure re- 
 treats and temporary dwelling places that efl'ectually guard 
 them from any sudden invasions or attacks from their ene- 
 mies; and being thus a swampy, hommocky country, fur- 
 nishes such a plenty and variety of supplies for the nourish- 
 ment of varieties of animals, that I can venture to assert that 
 no part of the globe so abounds with wild game, or creatures 
 fit for the food of man. 
 
 " Thus they enjoy a superabundance of the necessaries and 
 conveniences of life, with the security of person and property, 
 the two great concerns of mankind. The hides of deer, bears, 
 tigers, and wolves, together vfith honey, wax, and other pi*o- 
 
146 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 diictions of the country, purchase their clothing equipage and 
 domestic utensils from the whites. They seem to be free from 
 want or desires. No cruel enemy to dread ; nothing to give 
 them disquietude, hut the gradual encroachments of the ichite 
 people. Thus contented and undisturbed, they appear as blithe 
 and free as the birds of the air, and like them as volatile and 
 active, tuneful and vociferous. The visage, action, and deport- 
 ment of the Seminoles form the most striking picture of hap- 
 piness in this life; joy, contentment, love, and friendship, 
 without guile or affectation, seem inherent in them, or pre- 
 dominant in their vital principle, for it leaves them with but 
 
 the last breath of life They are fond of games and 
 
 gambling, and amuse themselves like children, in relating 
 extravagant stories, to cause surprise and mirth." * 
 
 The same writer gives an engagiug picture of his treatment 
 by these savages : 
 
 " Soon after entering the forests, we were met in the path 
 by a small company of Indians, smding and beckoning to us 
 long before we joined them. This was a family of Talaha- 
 sochte, who had been out on a hunt and were returning home 
 loaded with barbecued meat, hides, and honey. Their company 
 consisted of the man, his wife and children, well mounted on 
 fine horses, with a number of pack-horses. The man offered 
 us a fawn skin of honey, which I accepted, and at parting 
 presented him with some fish-hooks, sewing-needles, etc. 
 
 On our return to camp in the evening, we were saluted by 
 a party of young Indian warriors, who had pitched their tents 
 on a green eminence near the lake, at a smaU distance from our 
 camp, under a httle grove of oaks and palms. Tliis company 
 consisted of seven yomig Seminoles, under the conduct of a 
 young prince or chief of Talahasochte, a town southward in the 
 isthmus. They were aU dressed and painted with singular 
 elegance, and richly ornamented with silver plates, chains, 
 etc., after the Seminole mode, with waving plumes of feathers 
 on their crests. On our coming up to them, they arose and 
 shook hands ; we alighted and sat awhile with them by their 
 cheerful fire. 
 
 " The young prince informed our chief that he was in pur- 
 suit of a young fellow who had fled from the town carrying 
 off with him one of his favorite young wives. He said, mer- 
 rily, he would have the ears of both of them before he returned. 
 
 * Bartram's Travels in North America, 
 
THE SEMINOLES. 
 
 147 
 
 He was rather above the middle stature, and the most perfect 
 human figure I ever saw; of an amiable, engaging counte- 
 nance, air, and deportment ; free and familiar in conversation, 
 yet retaining a becoming gracefulness and dignity. We arose, 
 took leave of them, and crossed a little vale, covered with a 
 charming gi-een turf, already illuminated by the soft light of 
 the full moon. 
 
 *'Soon after joining our companions at camp, our neigh- 
 bors, the prince and his associates, paid us a visit. We treated 
 them with the best fare we had, having till this time preserved 
 our spirituous hquors. They left us with perfect cordiality 
 and cheerfulness, wishing us a good repose, and retired to 
 their own camp. Having a band of music with them, con- 
 sisting of a drum, flutes, and a rattle-gourd, they entertained 
 us during the night with their music, vocal and instrumental. 
 
 There is a languishing softness and melancholy air in the 
 Indian convivial songs, especially of the amorous class, irre- 
 sistibly moving attention, and exquisitely pleasing, especially 
 in their solitary recesses, when all nature is silent." 
 
 Travellers who have been among them, in more recent 
 times, before they had embarked in their present desperate 
 struggle, represent them in much the same light; as leading 
 a pleasant, indolent hfe, in a climate that required little 
 shelter or clotliing, and where the spontaneous fruits of the 
 earth furnished subsistence without toil. A cleanly race, de- 
 lighting in bathing, passing much of their time under the 
 shade of their trees, Avith heaps of oranges and other fine 
 fruits for their refreshment; talking, laughing, dancing and 
 sleeping. Every chief had a fan hanging to his side, made 
 of feathers of the wild turkey, the beautiful pink-colored 
 crane or the scarlet flamingo. With this he would sit and fan 
 himself with great stateliness, while the yoimg people danced 
 before him. The women joined in the dances with the men, 
 excepting the war-dances. They wore strings of tortoise-shells 
 and pebbles round their legs, which rattled in cadence to the 
 music. They were treated with more attention among the 
 Seminoles than among most Indian tribes. 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE WHITE, THE RED, AND THE BLACK MEN. 
 
 A SEMINOLE TRADITION. 
 
 When the Florid as were erected into a territory of the 
 United States, one of the earhest cares of the Governor, 
 
148 
 
 TH& CRAYON PAPERS, 
 
 William P. Duval, was directed to the instruction and civiliza- 
 tion of the natives. For this purpose he called a meeting 
 of the chiefs, in wHicli he informed them of the wish of their 
 Great Father at Washington that they should have schools 
 and teachers among them, and that their children should be 
 instmcted like the children of white men. The cliiefs listened 
 with their customary silence and decorum to a long speech, 
 settuig forth the advantages that would accrue to them from 
 this measure, and when he had concluded, begged the interval 
 of a day to dehberate on it. 
 
 On the following day a solemn convocation was held, at 
 which one of the chiefs addressed the governor in the name of 
 all the rest. "My brother," said he, " we have been thinking 
 over the proposition of our Great Father at Washington, to 
 send teachers and set up schools among us. We are very 
 thankful for the interest he takes in our weKare; but after 
 much dehberation, have concluded to decline his offer. What 
 will do very well for white men, will not do for red men. 
 I knoAv you white men say we all come from the same father 
 and mother, but you are mistaken. We have a tradition 
 handed down from our forefathers, and we believe it, that the 
 Great Spirit when he undertook to make men, made the black 
 man ; it was his first attempt, and pretty well for a beginning ; 
 but he soon saw he had bungled ; so he determined to try his 
 hand again. He did so, and made the red man. He hked him 
 much better than the black man, but still he was not exactly 
 what he wanted. So he tried once more, and made the wliite 
 man ; and then he was satisfied. You see, therefore, that you 
 were made last, and that is the reason I call you my youngest 
 brother. 
 
 "When the Great Spirit had made the three men, he 
 called them together and showed them three boxes. The first 
 was filled with books, and maps, and papers; the second with 
 bows and arrows, knives and tomahawks; the third with . 
 spades, axes, hoes, and hammers. ' These, my sons, ' said he, ' 
 ' are the means by wliich you are to live : choose among them 
 according to your fancy.' 
 
 "The white man, being the favorite, had the first choice. 
 He passed by the box of working-tools without notice; but 
 when he came to the weapons for war and hunting, he stopped 
 and looked hard at them. The red man trembled, for he had 
 set his heart upon that box. The wliite man, however, after 
 looking upon it for a moment, passed on, and chose the box 
 
TUE SEMINOLES. 
 
 149 
 
 of books and papers. The red man's turn came next; and 
 yon may be sure he seized with joy upon the bows and ar- 
 rows and tomahawks. As to the black man, he had no choice 
 left but to put up with the box of tools. 
 
 ' ' From this it is clear that the Great Spirit intended the 
 white man should learn to read and write ; to understand all 
 about the moon and stars; and to make everything, even 
 rum and whiskey. That the red man should be a first-rate 
 hunter, and a mighty warrior, but he was not to learn any- 
 thing from books, as the Great Spirit had not given him 
 any : nor was he to make rum and whiskey, lest he should 
 kill himself with drinking. As to the black man, as he had 
 nothing but working-tools, it was clear he was to work for 
 the white and red man, Avhich he has continued to do. 
 
 "We must go according to the wishes of the Great Spirit, 
 or we shall get into trouble. To know how to read and write 
 is very good for white men, but very bad for red men. It 
 makes wliite men better, but red men worse. Some of the 
 Creeks and Cherokees learned to read and write, and they 
 are the greatest rascals among all the Indians. They went 
 on to Washington, and said they were going to see their Great 
 Father, to talk about the good of the nation. And when 
 they got there, they all wrote upon a little piece of paper, 
 without the nation at home knowing anything about it. And 
 the first thing the nation at home knew of the matter, they 
 were called together by the Indian agent, who showed them a 
 little piece of paper, which he told them was a treaty, which 
 their brethren had made in their name, with their Great Father 
 at Washington. And as they knew not what a treaty was, he 
 held up the little piece of paper, and they looked under it, and 
 lo ! it covered a great extent of country, and they found that 
 their brethren, by knowing how to read and write, had sold 
 their houses and their lands and the graves of their fathers ; 
 and that the white man, by knowing how to read and write, 
 had gained them. Tell our Great Father at Washing-ton, 
 therefore, that we are very sorry we cannot receive teachers 
 among us ; for reading and writing, though very good for 
 white men, is very bad for the Indians." 
 
160 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATHLA. 
 
 AN AUTHENTIC SKETCH. 
 
 In the autumn of 1823, Governor Duval, and other comniis> 
 sioners on the part of the United States, concluded a treaty 
 with the chiefs and warriors of the Florida Indians, by which 
 the latter, for certain considerations, ceded aU claims to the 
 whole territory, excepting a district in the eastern part, to 
 which they were to remove, and within which they were to 
 eside for twenty years. Several of the chiefs signed the 
 treaty with great reluctance; but none opposed it more 
 strongly than Neamathla, principal chief of the Mickasookies, 
 a fierce and warhke people, many of them Creeks by origin, 
 who lived about the ^lickasookie lake. Neamathla had always 
 been active in those depredations on the frontiers of Georgia, 
 which had brought vengeance and ruin on the Seminoles. He 
 was a remarkable man ; upward of sixty years of age, about 
 six feet high, with a fine eye, and a strongly marked counte- 
 nance, over which he possessed great command. His hatred 
 of the white men appeared to be mixed with contempt : on the 
 common people he looked down with infinite scorn. He 
 seemed unwilling to acknowledge any superiority of rank or 
 dignity in Governor Duval, claiming to associate with him on 
 terms of equality, as two great chieftains. Though he had 
 been prevailed upon to sign the treaty, his heart revolted at it. 
 In one of his frank conversations with Governor Duval, he 
 observed: " This country belongs to the red man; and if I had 
 the number of warriors at my command that this nation once 
 had, I would not leave a white man on my lands. I would 
 exterminate the whole. I can say this to you, for you can 
 understand me ; you are a man ; but I would not say it to your 
 people. They'd cry out I was a savage, and would take my 
 life. They cannot appreciate the feelings of a man that loves 
 his country." 
 
 As Florida had but recently been erected into a territory, 
 everything as yet was in rude and simple style. The gover- 
 nor, to make himself acquainted with the Indians, and to be 
 near at hand to keep an eye upon them, fixed his residence at 
 Tallahassee, near the Fowel towns, inhabited by the Micka- 
 sookies. His government palace for a time was a mere log 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATIILA. 
 
 151 
 
 house, and he lived on hunters' fare. The village of Neamath- 
 la was but about three miles off, and thither the governor oc- 
 casionally rode, to visit the old chieftain. In one of these visits 
 he found Neamathla seated in his wigwam, in the centre of 
 the village, surrounded by his warriors. The governor had 
 brought him some liquor as a present, but it mounted quickly 
 into his brain, and rendered hira quite boastful and belligerent. 
 The theme ever uppermost in his mind, was the treaty with 
 the whites. * ' It was true, " he said, ' ' the red ,men had made 
 such a treaty, but the white men had not acted uj) to it. The 
 red men had received none of the money and the cattle that 
 had been promised them : the treaty, therefore, was at an end, 
 and they did not intend to be bound by it." 
 
 Governor Duval calmly represented to him that the time 
 appointed in the treaty for the payment and delivery of the 
 money and the cattle had not yet arrived. This the old chief- 
 tain knew full well, but he chose, for the moment, to pretend 
 ignorance. He kept on drinking and talking, his voice grow- 
 ing louder and louder, until it resounded all over the village. 
 He held in his hand a long knife, with which he had been 
 rasping tobacco; this he kept flourishing backward and for- 
 ward, as he talked, by way of giving effect to his words, 
 brandishing it at times within an inch of the governor's throat. 
 He concluded his tirade by repeating, that the country be- 
 ' longed to the red men, and that sooner than give it up, his 
 bones and the bones of his people should bleach upon its soil. 
 
 Duval saw that the object of all this bluster was to see 
 whether he could be intimidated. He kept his eye, therefore, 
 fixed steadily on the chief, and the moment he concluded with 
 his menace, seized him by the bosom of his hunting-shirt, and 
 clinching his other fist : 
 
 ''I've heard what you have said," replied he. "You have 
 made a treaty, yet you say your bones shall bleach before 
 you comply with it. As sure as there is a sun in heaven, your 
 bones shall bleach, if you do not fulfil every article of that 
 treaty ! I'U let you know that I am first here, and will see that 
 you do your duty !" 
 
 Upon this, the old chieftain threw himself back, burst into a 
 fit of laughing, and declared that all he had said was in joke. 
 The governor suspected, however, that there was a grave 
 meaning at the bottom of this jocularity. 
 
 For two months, everything went on smoothly : the Indians 
 repaired daily to the log-cabin palace of the governor, at Talla- 
 
152 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS, 
 
 hassee, and appeared perfectly contented. All at once they 
 ceased their visits, and for three or four days not one was to 
 be seen. Governor Duval began to apprehend that some mis- 
 chief was brewing. On the evening of the fourth day a chief 
 named Yellow-Hair, a resolute, intelligent fellow, who had 
 always evinced an attachment for the governor, entered his 
 cabin about twelve o'clock at night, and informed him that 
 between four and five hundred warriors, painted and deco- 
 rated, were assembled to hold a secret vv^ar-talk at Neamathla's 
 town. He had slipped off to give mtelligence, at the risk of his 
 life, and hastened back lest liis absence should be discovered. 
 
 Governor Duval passed an anxious night after this intelli- 
 gence. He knew the talent and the daring character of Nea- 
 mathla; he recollected the threats he had thrown out; he 
 reflected that about eighty v/hite families were scattered wide- 
 ly apart, over a great extent of country, and might be swept 
 away at once, should the Indians, as he feared, determine to 
 clear the country. That he did not exaggerate the dangers of 
 the case, has been proved by the horrid scenes of Indian war- 
 fare that have since desolated that devoted region. After a 
 night of sleepless cogitation, Duval determined on a measure 
 suited to his prompt and resolute character. Knowing the 
 admiration of the savages for personal courage, he determined, 
 by a sudden surprise, to endeavor to overawe and check them. 
 It was hazarding much ; but where so many lives were in jeop- 
 ardy, he felt bound to incur the hazard. 
 
 Accordingly, on the next morning, he set otf on horseback, 
 attended merely by a white man, who had been reared among 
 the Seminoles, and understood their language and manners, 
 and who acted as interpreter. They struck into an Indian 
 ' ' trail, " leading to Neamathla's village. After proceeding 
 about half a mile, Governor Duval informed the interpreter 
 of the object of his expedition. The latter, though a bold man, 
 paused and remonstrated. The Indians among whom they 
 were going were among the most desperate and discontented 
 of the nation. Many of them were veteran warriors, impover- 
 ished and exasperated by defeat, and ready to set their Lives at 
 any hazard. He said that if they were holding a war council, 
 it must be with desperate intent, and it would be certain death 
 to intrude among them. 
 
 Duval made light of his apprehensions: he said he was 
 perfectly well acquainted with the Indian character, and 
 should certainly proceed. So saying, he rode on. When 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF WEAMATIILA. 
 
 153 
 
 ■within half a mile of the village, the interpreter addressed him 
 0;gain, in such a tremulous tone that Duval turned and looked 
 him in the face. He was deadly pale, and once more urged the 
 governor to return, as they would certauily be massacred if 
 they proceeded. 
 
 Duval repeated his determination to go on, but advised the 
 otlier to return, lest his pale face should betray fear to the 
 Indians, and they might take advantage of it. The interpreter 
 replied that he would rather die a thousand deaths than have 
 it said he had deserted his leader when in peril. 
 
 Duval then told him he most translate faithfully all ho 
 should say to the Indians, without softening a Avord. The 
 interpreter promised faithf uUy to do so, adding that he well 
 knew, when they were once in the town, notliing but boldness 
 could save them. 
 
 They now rode into the village, and advanced to the council- 
 house. This was rather a group of four houses, forming a 
 square, in the centre of wliich was a great council-fire. The 
 houses were open in front, toward the fire, and closed in the 
 rear. At each corner of the square there was an interval 
 between the houses, for ingress and egress. In these houses 
 sat the old men and the chiefs ; the young men were gathered 
 round the fire. Neamathla presided at the council, elevated on 
 a higher seat than the rest. 
 
 Governor Duval entered by one of the comer intervals, and 
 rode boldly into the centre of the square. The young men 
 made way for him ; an old man who was speaking, paused in 
 the midst of liis harangue. In an instant thirty or forty rifles 
 were cocked and levelled. Never had Duval heard so loud a 
 click of triggers : it seemed to strike to Ms heart. He gave one 
 glance at the Indians, and turned off with an air of contempt. 
 He did not dare, he says, to look again, lest it might affect 
 his nerves; and on the firmness of his nerves everything 
 depended. 
 
 The chief threw up his arm. The rifles were lowered. Duval 
 breathed more freely : he felt disposed to leap from his horse, 
 but restrained himself, and dismounted leisurely. He then 
 walls:ed deliberately up to Neamathla, and demanded, in an 
 authoritative tone, what were his motives for holding that 
 council. The moment he made this demand, the orator sat 
 down. The chief made no reply, but hung his head in appar- 
 ent confusion. After a moment's pause, Duval proceeded : 
 
 *'I am well aware of the meaning of this wai'-council ; and 
 
154 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 deem it my duty to warn you against prosecuting tke schemes 
 you have been devising. If a single hair of a white man in 
 this country falls to the ground, I will hang you and your 
 chiefs on the trees around your council-house ! You cannot 
 pretend to withstand the i^ower of the white men. You are in 
 the palm of the hand of your Great Father at Washington, 
 who can crush you hke an egg-shell. You may kill me : I am 
 but one man ; but recollect, white men are numerous as the 
 leaves on the trees. Remember the fate of your warriors 
 whose bones are whitening in battle-fields. Remember your 
 wives and children who perished in swamps. Do you want to 
 provoke more hostilities? Another war with the white men, 
 and there will not be a Seminole left to tell the story of his 
 race." 
 
 Seeing the effect of his words, he concluded by appointing a 
 day for the Indians to meet him at St. Marks, and give an 
 account of their conduct. He then rode off, mthout giving 
 them thne to recover from their surprise. That night he rode 
 forty miles to Apalachicola River, to the tribe of the same 
 name, who were in feud with the Seminoles. They promptly 
 put two hundred and fifty warriors at his disposal, whom he 
 ordered to be at St. Marks at the appointed day. He sent out 
 runners, also, and mustered one hundred of the mihtia to repair 
 to the same place, together wdth a number of regulars from the 
 army. All his arrangements were successful. 
 
 Having taken these measures, he returned to Tallahassee, to 
 the neighborhood of the conspirators, to show them that he was 
 not afraid. Here he ascertained, through YeUow-Hair, that 
 nine towns were disaffected, and had been concerned in the 
 conspiracy. He was careful to inform himself, from the same 
 source, of the names of the warriors in each of those towns who 
 were most popidar, though poor, and destitute of rank and 
 command. 
 
 When the appointed day was at hand for the meeting at St. 
 Marks, Governor Duval set off with Neamathla, who was at 
 the head of eight or nine hundred warriors, but who feared to 
 venture into the fort without him. As they entered the fort, 
 and saw troops and militia drawn up there, and a force of Apa- 
 lachicola soldiers stationed on the opposite bank of the river, 
 they thought they were betrayed, and were about to fly ; but 
 Duval assured them they were safe, and that when the talk 
 was over, they might go home unmolested. 
 
 A grand talk was now held, in which the late conspiracy was 
 
LETTER FROM GRANADA. 
 
 155 
 
 discussed. As he had foreseen, Neamathla and the other old 
 cliiefs threw all the blame upon the young men. ' ' Well, " 
 repHed Duval, "with us white men, when we find a man 
 incompetent to govern those under him, we put him down, and 
 appoint another in his place. Now, as you all acknowledge 
 you cannot manage your young men, we must put chiefs over 
 tliem who can." 
 
 So saying, he deposed Neamathla first ; appointing another 
 in his place ; and so on with all the rest : taking care to sub- 
 stitute the warriors who had been pointed out to him as poor 
 and popular ; putting medals round their necks, and investing 
 them with great ceremony. The Indians were surprised and 
 delighted at finding the appointments fall upon the very men 
 they would themselves have chosen, and hailed them with 
 acclamations. The warriors thus unexpectedly elevated to 
 command, and clothed with dignity, were secured to the inter- 
 ests of the governor, and sure to keep an eye on the disaffected. 
 As to the great chief Neamathla, he left the country in disgust, 
 and returned to the Creek nation, who elected him a chief of 
 one of their towns. Thus by the resolute spirit and prompt 
 sagacity of one man, a dangerous conspiracy was completely 
 defeated. Governor Duval was afterward enabled to remove 
 the whole nation, through his own personal influence, without 
 the aid of the general government. 
 
 To the Editor of the KnicJcerbocJcer, 
 
 Sir: The following letter was scribbled to a friend during 
 my sojourn in the Alhambra, in 1828. As it presents scenes 
 and impressions noted down at the time, I venture to offer it 
 for the consideration of your readers. Should it prove accep- 
 table, I may from time to time give other letters, written in the 
 course of my various ramblings, and which have been kindly 
 restored to me by my friends. Yours, G. C. 
 
 LETTER FROM GRANADA. 
 
 Granada, 182R. 
 
 My Dear : Rehgious festivals furnish, in all Catholic 
 
 countries, occasions of popular pageant and recreation ; but in 
 none more so than in Spain, where the great end of rehgion 
 
156 
 
 THE. CRA TON PAPERS. 
 
 seems to be to create holidays and ceremonials. For two days 
 past, Granada has been in a gay turmoil with the great annual 
 fete of Corpus Christi. Tliis most eventful and romantic city, 
 as you well know, has ever been the rallying point of a moun- 
 tainous region, studded with small towns and villages. Hither, 
 during the time that Granada was the splendid capital of a 
 Moorish Idngdom, the Moslem youth repaired from all points, 
 to participate in chivalrous festivities ; and hither the Spanish 
 populace at the present day throng from all pai'ts of the sur- 
 rounding country to attend the festivcils of the church. 
 
 As the x^opulace like to enjoy thing-s from the very com- 
 mencement, the stir of Corpus Christi began in Granada on the 
 preceding evening. Before dark the gates of the city were 
 thronged with the picturesque peasantry from the mountain 
 villages, and the brown laborers from the Vega, or vast fertile 
 plain. As the evening advanced, the Vivarambla thickened 
 and swarmed with a motley multitude. This is the great 
 square in the centre of the city, famous for tilts and tourneys 
 during the time of Moorish domination, and incessantly men- 
 tioned in all the old Moorish ballads of love and chivalry. For 
 several days the hammer had resounded thi^oughout this 
 square. A gallery of wood had been erected all round it, form- 
 ing a covered way for the grand procession of Corpus Christi. 
 On this eve of the ceremonial this gallery was a fashionable 
 promenade. It was brilliantly illuminated, bands of music 
 were stationed in balconies on the four sides of the square, and 
 all the fashion and beauty of Granada, and all its population 
 that could boast a little finery of apparel, together with the 
 majos and majas, the beaux and belles of the villages, in their 
 gay Andalusian costumes, thronged this covered walk, anxious 
 to see and to be seen. As to the sturdy peasantry of the Vega, 
 and such of the mountaineers as did not pretend to display, but 
 were content with hearty enjoyment, they swarmed in the 
 centre of the square ; some in groups listening to the guitar and 
 the traditional ballad; some dancing their favorite bolero: 
 some seated on the ground making a merry though frugal 
 supper; and some stretched out for their night's repcse. 
 
 The gay crowd of the gallery dispersed gradually toward 
 midnight; but the centre of the square resembled the bi\'Ouac 
 of an army ; for hundreds of the peasantry, men, women, and 
 children, passed the night there, sleeping soundly on the bare 
 earth, under the open canopy of heaven. A summer's night 
 requires no shelter in this genial climate; and with a great 
 
LETTER FROM GRANADA. 
 
 157 
 
 part of the hardy peasantry of Spain, a bed is a superfluity 
 which many of them never enjoy, and which they affect to 
 despise. The common Spaniard spreads out his manta, or 
 mule-cloth, or wraps himself in his cloak, and lies on the 
 ground, with his saddle for a pillow. 
 
 The next morning I revisited the square at sunrise. It was 
 still strewed with groups of sleepers ; some were reposing from 
 the dance and revel of the evening ; others had left their vil- 
 lages after work, on the preceding day, and having trudged on 
 foot the greater part of the night, were takmg a sound sleep to 
 freshen them for the festivities of the day. Numbers from the 
 mountains, and the remote villages of the plain, ^vho had set 
 out in the night, continued to arrive, with their mves and 
 children. All were in high spirits; greeting each other, and 
 exchanging jokes and pleasantries. The gay tumult thickened 
 as the day advanced. Now came pouring in at the city gates, 
 and parading through the streets, the deputations from the 
 various villages, destined to swell the grand procession. These 
 village deputations were headed by their priests, bearing their 
 respective crosses and banners, and images of the Blessed Vir- 
 gin and of patron saints; all which were matters of great 
 rivalship and jealousy among the peasantry. It was like the 
 chivalrous gatherings of ancient days, when each town and 
 village sent its chiefs, and warriors, and standards, to defend 
 the capital, or grace its festivities. 
 
 At length, all these various detachments congregated into 
 one grand pageant, which slowly paraded round the Viva- 
 rambla, and through the principal streets, w^here every window 
 and balcony was hung with tapestry. In this procession were 
 all the rehgious ordei^, the civil and mihtary authorities, and 
 the chief people of the parishes and villages ; every church and 
 convent had contributed its bamiers, its images, its rehques, 
 r.vA poured forth its wealth, for the occasion. In the centre 
 of the pi'occssion walked the archbishop, under a damask can- 
 i py, and surrounded by inferior dignitaries and their depen- 
 dants. The whole moved to the swell and ^iadence of numerous 
 I ands of music, and, passing through the midst of a countless 
 yet silent multitude, proceeded onward to the cathedral. 
 
 I could not but be struck with the changes of times and cus- 
 toms, as I saw this monkish pageant passing through the 
 Vivarambla, the ancient seat of modern pomp and chivalry. 
 The contrast was indeed forced upon the mind by the decora- 
 tions of the square. The whole front of the wooden gallery 
 
158 
 
 THE CUA YON PAPERS. 
 
 erected for the procession, extending several hundred feet, was 
 faced with canvas, on which some humble though patriotic 
 artist had painted, by contract, a series of the principal scenes 
 and exploits of the conquest, as recorded in chronicle and 
 romance. It is thus the I'omantic legends of Granada mingle 
 themselves with everything, and are kept fresh in the public 
 mind. Another gi^eat festival at Granada, answering in its 
 popular character to our Fourth of July, is El Dia de la Toma ; 
 ' ' The Day of the Capture that is to say, the anniversary of 
 the capture of the city by Ferdinand and Isabella. On this 
 day all Granada is abandoned to revelry. The alarm beU on 
 the Terre de la Campana, or watch-tower of the Alhambra, 
 keeps up a clangor from morn till night; and happy is the 
 damsel that can ring that beU ; it is a charm to secure a hus 
 band in the course of the year. 
 
 The sound, which can be heard over the whole Vega, and to 
 the top of the mountains, summons the peasantry to the fes- 
 tivities. Throughout the day the Alhambra is thrown open to 
 the iDublic. The halls and courts of the Moorish monarchs 
 resound with the guitar and Castanet, and gay groups, in the 
 fanciful dresses of Andalusia, perform those popular dances 
 \\'hich they have mherited from the Moors. 
 
 In the meantime a grand procession moves through the city. 
 The banner of Ferdinand and Isabella, that precious rehque of 
 the conquest, is brought forth from its depository, and borne 
 by the Alferez Mayor, or grand standard-bearer, through the 
 principal streets. The portable camp-altar, which was carried 
 about with them in aU their campaigns, is transported into the 
 chapel royal, and placed before their sepulchre, where their 
 effigies he in monumental nmrble. The procession fills the 
 chapel. High mass is performed in memory of the conquest ; 
 and at a certain part of the ceremony the Alferez Mayor puts 
 on his hat, and waves the standard above the tomb of the con- 
 queroi-s. 
 
 A more whimsical memorial of the conquest is exhibited on 
 the same evening ^t the theatre, where a popular drama is 
 performed, entitled Ave Mama. This turns on the oft-simg 
 achievement of Hernando del Pulgar, sm-named El de Za5 
 Hazaiias, "He of the Exploits," the favorite hero of the popu- 
 lace of Granada. 
 
 During the time that Ferdinand and Isabella besieged tho 
 city, the young Moorish and Spanish knights vied with each 
 other in extravagant bravados. On one occasion Hernando del 
 
lETTlCll FROM GRANADA. 
 
 Pulgar, at the head of a handful of youthful followers, made a 
 dash into Granada at the dead of night, nailed the inscription 
 of Ave Maria, with his dagger, to the gate of the principal 
 mosque, as a token of having consecrated it to the virgin, and 
 effected his retreat in safety. 
 
 While the Moorish cavaliers admired this daring exploit, 
 they felt boimd to revenge it. On the following day, therefore, 
 Tarfe, one of the stoutest of the infidel warriors, paraded in 
 fi'ont of the Christian army, dragging the sacred inscription of 
 Ave Maria at his horse's tail. The cause of the Virgin was 
 eagerly \'indicaied by Garcilaso de la Vega, who slew the Moor 
 in single combat, and elevated the inscription of Ave Maria, in 
 devotion and triumph, at the end of his lance. 
 
 The drama founded on this exploit is prodigiously popular 
 with the coiximon people. Although it has been acted time out 
 of mind, and the people have seen it repeatedly, it never fails 
 to draw crowds, and so completely to engross the feelings of 
 the audience, as to have almost the effect on them of reahty. 
 When their favorite Pulgar strides about with many a mouthy 
 speech, in the very midst of the Moorish capital, he is cheered 
 with enthusiastic bravos ; and when he nails the tablet of Ave 
 !RIaria to the door of the mosque, the theatre absolutely shakes 
 with shouts and thunders of applause. On the other hand, the 
 actors who play the part of the Moors, have to bear the brunt 
 of the temporary indignation of their auditors ; and when the 
 infidel Tarfe plucks down the tablet to tie it to his horse's tail, 
 many of the people absolutely rise in fury, and are ready to 
 jump upon the stage to revenge this insult to the Virgin. 
 
 Beside this annual festival at the capital, almost every vil- 
 lage of the Vega and the mountains has its own aimiversary, 
 wherein its own dehverance from the Moorish yoke is cele- 
 brated with uncouth ceremony and rustic pomp. 
 
 On these occasions a kind of resurrection takes place of 
 ancient Spanish dresses and armor : gi^eat two-handed swords, 
 ponderous arquebuses, with match-locks, and other weapons 
 and accoutrements, once the equipments of the village chiv- 
 alry, and treasured up from generation to generation, since 
 the time of the conquest. In these hereditary and historical 
 garbs some of the most sturdy of the villagers array themselves 
 as champions of the faith, while its ancient opponents are rep 
 resented by another band of villagers, dressed up as Moorish 
 warriors. A tent is pitched in the pubhc square of the village, 
 within which is an altar, and an image of the Virgin. The 
 
160 
 
 THE CRAYON PArKUS. 
 
 Spanish warriors approach to perform their devotions at this 
 shrine, but are opposed by the infidel Moslems, who surround 
 the tent. A mock fight succeeds, in the course of which the 
 combatants sometimes forget that they are merely playing a 
 part, and exchange dry blows of grievous weight ; the fictitious 
 Moors esi^ecially are apt to bear away pretty evident marks of 
 the pious zeal of their antagonists. The contest, however, in- 
 variably terminates in favor of the good cause. The Moors 
 are defeated and taken prisoners. The image of the Virgin, 
 rescued from thraldom, is elevated in triumph ; and a grand 
 procession succeeds, in which the Spanish conquerors figure 
 mth great vain-glory and applause, and their captives are led 
 in chains, to the uifinite delight and edification of the populace. 
 These annual festivals are the dehght of the villagers, who ex- 
 pend considerable smns in then- celebration. In some villages 
 they are occasionally obliged to susi^end them for want of 
 funds ; but when times grow better, or they have been enabled 
 to save money for the purpose, they are revived with all their 
 grotesque pomp and extravagance. 
 
 To recur to the exploit of Hernando del Pulgar. However 
 extravagant and fabulous it may seem, it is authenticated by 
 certain traditional usages, and shows the vain-glorious daring 
 that prevailed between the youthful warriors of both nations, 
 in that romantic war. The mosque thus consecrated to the 
 Virgin was made the cathedral of the city after the conquest ; 
 and there is a pamting of the Virgin beside the royal chapel, 
 which was put there by Hernando del Pulgar. The lineal rep- 
 resentative of the hare-brained cavalier has the right to this 
 day to enter the church, on certain occasions, on horseback, to 
 sit within the choir, and to put on his hat at the elevation of 
 the host, though these privileges have often been obstinately 
 contested by the clergy. 
 
 T':e present lineal representative of Hernando del Pulgar is 
 the Marquis de Salar, whom I have met occasionally in society. 
 He is a young man of agreeable appearance and mamiers, and 
 his bright black eyes would give indication of Ins inheritmg 
 the fire of his ancestor. When the paintings were put up in 
 the Vivarambla, illustrating the scenes of the conquest, an old 
 gray-headed family seiwant of the Pulgars was so delighted 
 with those wliich related to the family hero, that he absolutely 
 shed tears, and hurrying home to the Marquis, urged liim to 
 hasten and behold the family trophies. The sudden zeal of the 
 old man provoked the roii'th of his young master ; upon which 
 
ABDERAUMAN. 
 
 161 
 
 turning to the brother of the Marquis, with that freedom 
 allowed to family servants in Spain, "Come, Senor," cried he, 
 "you are more grave and considerate than yom- brother; 
 come and see your ancestor in all his glory !" 
 
 Within two or three years after the above letter was written, 
 the Marquis de Salar was married to the beautiful daughter of 
 
 the Count , mentioned by the author in his anecdotes of 
 
 the Alliambra. The match was very agreeable to all parties, 
 and the nuptials were celebrated with great festivity. 
 
 ABDERAHMAN: 
 
 FOUNDER OF THE DYNASTY OF THE OIMMIADES IN SPAIN. 
 
 To the Editor of the Knickerbocker. 
 
 Sir : In the following memoir I have conformed to the facts 
 furnished by the Arabian chroniclers, as cited by the learned 
 Conde. The story of Abderahman has almost the charm of 
 romance ; but it derives a higher interest from the heroic yet 
 gentle virtues which it illustrates, and from recording the for- 
 tunes of the founder of that splendid dynasty, which shed such 
 a lustre upon Spain during the domination of the Arabs. Ab- 
 derahman may, in some respects, be compared to our own 
 Wasliington. He achieved the independence of Moslem Spain, 
 freeing it from subjection to the cahphs ; he united its jarring 
 parts under one government; he mled over it with justice, 
 clemency, and moderation ; his whole course of conduct was 
 distinguished by wonderful forbearance and magnanimity ; and 
 when he died he left a legacy of good example and good coun- 
 sel to his successors. G. C. 
 
 "Blessed be God!" exclaims an Arabian historian; "in His 
 hands alone is the destiny of princes. He overthrows the 
 mighty, and humbles the haughty to the dust ; and he raises 
 up the persecuted and afflicted from the very depths of de- 
 spair !" 
 
 The illustrious house of Omeya had swayed the sceptre at 
 Damascus for nearly a century, when a rebellion broke out, 
 
1G2 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 headed by Aboiil Abbas Safah, who aspired to the throne of 
 
 the caUphs, as being descended from Abbas, the uncle of the 
 prophet. The rebeUion was successful. Marvau, the la^jt caliph 
 of the house of Omeya, was defeated and slain. A general 
 proscription of the Oniiniades took place. Many of them fell 
 in battle ; many were treacherously slain, in places where they 
 had taken refuge ; above seventy most noble and distinguished 
 were murdered at a banquet to which they had been invited, 
 and their dead bodies covered with cloths, and made to serve 
 as tables for the horrible festivity. Others were driven forth, 
 forlorn and desolate wanderers in various parts of the earth, 
 and pursued with relentless hatred ; for it was the determina- 
 tion of the usurper that not one of the persecuted family should 
 escape. Aboul Abbas took possession of three stately palaces, 
 and dehcious gardens, and founded the powerful dynasty of the 
 Abbassides, which, for several centuries, maintained dominion 
 in the east. 
 
 "Blessed be God !" again exclaims the Ai-abian historian; "it 
 was written in His eternal decrees that, notwithstanding the 
 fury of the Abbassides, the noble stock of Omeya should not be 
 destroyed. One fruitful branch remained to flourish with gloiy 
 and greatness in another land." 
 
 "When the sanguinary proscription of the Ommiades took 
 place, two young princes of that hne, brothers, by the names 
 of Solyman and Abderahman, were spared for a time. Their 
 personal graces, noble demeanor, and winning affability, had 
 made them many friends, Avhile their extreme youth rendered 
 them objects of but httle dread to the usm-per. Their safety, 
 however, was but transient. In a httle while the suspicions of 
 Aboul Abbas were aroused. The unfortunate Solyman fell be- 
 neath the scimitar of the executioner. His brother Abderahman 
 was warned of his danger in tune. Several of his friends has- 
 tened to him, bringing him jewels, a disgTiise, and a fleet horse, 
 "The emissaries of the cahph," said they, "are in search of 
 thee ; thy brother Ues weltering in his blood ; fly to the desert ! 
 There is no safety for thee in the habitations of man !" 
 
 Abderahman took the jewels, clad himself in the disguise, 
 and mounting his steed, fled for his life. As he passed, a lonely 
 fugitive, by the palaces of his ancestors, in which his family 
 had long held sway, their very walls seemed disposed to betray 
 him, as they echoed the swift clattering of his steed. 
 
 Abandoning his native country, Syria, where he was liable 
 at each moment to be recognized and taken, he took refuge 
 
AUDhUlAllMAN. 
 
 1G3 
 
 among the Bedouin Arabs, a half -savage race of shepherds. His 
 youth, his inborn majesty and grace, and. the sweetness and 
 affability that shone forth in his azure eyes, won the hearts of 
 these wandering men. He Avas but tv/enty years of age, and 
 had been reared in the soft luxury of a j^alace ; but he was tall 
 and vigorous, and in a little while hardened himself so com- 
 pletely to the rustic life of the fields that it seemed as though 
 he had passed all his days in the rude simplicity of a shepherd's 
 cabin. 
 
 His enemies, however, were upon his traces, and gave him 
 but little rest. By day he scoured the plain with the Bedouins, 
 hearing in every blast the sound of pursuit, and fancying in 
 every distant cloud of dust a troop of the cahph's horsemen. 
 His night was passed in broken sleep and frequent watchings, 
 and at the earhest dawn he was the first to put the bridle to his 
 steed. 
 
 Wearied by these perpetual alarms, he bade farewell to his 
 friendly Bedouins, and leaving Egypt behind, sought a safer 
 refuge in Western Africa. The province of Barea was at that 
 time governed by Aben Habib, who had risen to rank and for- 
 tmie under the fostering favor of the Ommiades. "Surely," 
 thought the unhappy prince, "I shall receive kindness and 
 protection from this man; he will rejoice to show his gratitude 
 for the benefits showered upon him by my kindred." 
 
 Abderahman was young, and as yet knew Mttle of mankind. 
 None are so hostile to the victun of poAver as those whom he 
 has befriended. They fear being suspected of gratitude by his 
 persecutors, and involved in his misfortunes. 
 
 The unfortunate Abderahman had halted for a few days to re- 
 pose himself among a horde of Bedouins, who had received him 
 v/ith their characteristic hospitality. They would gather round 
 him in the evenings, to listen to his conversation, regarding 
 with wonder tliis gently-si^oken stranger from the more refined 
 country of Egypt. The old men marvelled to find so much 
 knowledge and wisdom in such early youth, and the young 
 men, won by his frank and manly carriage, entreated bun to 
 remain among them. 
 
 One night, when all were buried in sleep, they were roused 
 by the tramp of horsemen. The Wali Aben Habib, who, like 
 all the governors of distant ports, had received orders from the 
 caliph to be on the watch for the fugitive prince, had heard 
 that a young man, answering the description, had entered the 
 province alone, from the frontiers of Egypt, on a steed worn 
 
164 
 
 TUE CRA TON PAPERS. 
 
 down by travel. He had immediately sent forth horsemen in 
 Ms pm'suit, with orders to bring him to him dead or aUve, 
 The emissaries of the Wali had traced him to his restmg-place, 
 and demanded of the Arabs whether a young man, a stranger 
 from Syria, did not sojourn among their tribe. The Bedouins 
 knew by the description that the stranger must be their guest, 
 and feared some evil was intended him. "Such a youth," 
 said they, " hps indeed sojourned among us; but he has gone, 
 with some of our young men, to a distant valley, to hmit the 
 lion." The emissaries inquired the way to the place, and 
 hastened on to surprise their expected prey. 
 
 The Bedoums repaired to Abderahman, who was still sleep- 
 ing. "If thou hast aught to fear from man in power," said 
 they, "arise and fly ; for the horsemen of the Wali are in quest 
 of thee ! We have sent tliem off for a time on a wrong errand, 
 but they will soon return." 
 
 "Alas ! whither shall I fly !" cried the unhappj^ prince ; "my 
 enemies hunt me like the ostrich of the desert. They follow 
 me like the wind, and allow me neither safety nor repose !" 
 
 Six of the bravest youths of the tribe stepped forward. "We 
 have steeds, "said they, " that can outstrip the wind, and hands 
 that can hurl the javehn. We will accompany thee in thy 
 flight, and will fight by thy side while life lasts, and we have 
 weapons to wield. " 
 
 Abderahman embraced them -with tears of gratitude. They 
 mounted then* steeds, and made for the most lonely parts of 
 the desert. By the faint light of the stars, they passed through 
 dreary wastes, and over hills of sand. The lion roared, and 
 the hyena howled unheeded, for they fled from man, more 
 cruel and relentless, when in pursuit of blood, than the savage 
 beasts of the desert. 
 
 At sunrise they paused to refresh themselves beside a scanty 
 well, surrounded by a. few palm-trees. One of the young Arabs 
 climbed a tree, and looked in every direction, but not a horse- 
 man Avas to be seen. 
 
 "We have outstripped pursuit," said the Bedouins: "whither 
 shall we conduct thee? Where is thy home and the land of 
 thy people?" 
 
 " Home have I none !" rephed Abderahman, mournfully, "nor 
 family, nor kindred! My native land is to me a land of de- 
 struction, and my people seek my life !" 
 
 The hearts of the youthful Bedouins were touched with com- 
 passion at these words, and they marvel lr»d that one so young 
 
ABDERAUMAN, 
 
 165 
 
 and gentle should have suffered such great sorrow and perse- 
 cution. 
 
 xlbdcrahman sat by the well, and mused for a time. At 
 length, breaking silence, "In the midst of Mauritania, " said he, 
 "dwells the tribe of Zeneta. My mother was of that tribe; 
 and perhaps when her son presents himself, a persecuted wan- 
 derer, at their door, they will not turn him from the thresh- 
 old." 
 
 "The Zenctes," replied the Bedouins, "are among the 
 bravest and most hospitable of the people of Africa. Never 
 did the unfortunate seek refuge among them in vain, nor 
 was the stranger repulsed from their door." So they mount- 
 ed their steeds with renewed spirits, and journeyed Avith all 
 speed to Tahart, the capital of the Zenetes. 
 
 When Abderahman entered the place, followed by his six 
 rustic Arabs, aU wayworn and travel-stained, his noble and 
 majestic demeanor shone through the simple garb of a Bed- 
 ouin. A crowd gathered around him, as he alighted from liis 
 weary steed. Confiding in the well-known character of the 
 tribe, he no longer attempted concealment. 
 
 " You behold before you," said he, "one of the proscribed 
 house of Omeya. I am tha^t Abderahman upon whose head a 
 price has been set, and who has been driven from land to land. 
 I come to you as my kindred. My mother was of your tribe, 
 and she told me with her dying breath that in all time of need 
 I would find a home and friends among the Zenetes." 
 
 The words of Abderahman went straight to the hearts of his 
 hearers. They pitied his youth and his great misfortunes, 
 while they were charmed by his frankness, and by the manly 
 gi*aces of his person. The tribe was of a bold and generous 
 spirit, and not to be awed by the frown of power. " Evil be 
 upon us and upon our children," said they, " if we deceive 
 the trust thou hast placed in us !" 
 
 Then one of the noblest Xeques took Abderahman to his 
 house, and treated him as his own child; and the principal 
 people of the tribe strove who most should cherish him, and do 
 him honor; endeavoring to obhterate by then- kmdness the 
 recollection of his past misfortimes. 
 
 Abderahman had resided some time among the hospitable 
 Zenetes, when one day two strangers, of venerable appearance, 
 attended by a small retmue, arrived at Tahart. They gave 
 themselves out as merchants, and from the simple style in 
 which they travelled, excited no attention. In a little while 
 
166 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 they sought out Ahderahman, and, taking him apart*. 
 "Hearken," said they, "Abderahman, of the royal line oi 
 Omeya ; Ave are ambassadors sent on the part of the principal 
 Moslems of Spain, to offer thee, not merely an asylum, for that 
 thou hast already among these brave Zenetes, but an empire ! 
 Spain is a prey to distracting factions, and can no longer exist 
 as a dependance upon a thi'one too remote to watch over its 
 welfare. It needs to be independent of Asia and Africa, and 
 to be under the government of a good prince, who shall reside 
 within it, and devote himself entii-ely to its prosperity; a 
 prince with sufficient title to silence all rival claims, and bring 
 the warring parties into unity and peace; and at the same 
 time with sufficient ability and virtue to insure the welfare of 
 his dominions. For this purpose the eyes of all the honorable 
 leaders in Spain have been turned to thee, as a descendant of 
 the royal hne of Omeya, and an offset from the same stock as 
 our holy prophet. They have heard of thy virtues, and of thy 
 admirable constancy under misfortmies; and invite thee to 
 accept the sovereignty of one of the noblest countries in the 
 world. Thou wilt have some difficulties to encounter from 
 hostile men ; but thou wilt have on thy side the bravest cap 
 tains that have signalized themselves in the conquest of tho 
 unbelievers." 
 
 The ambassadors ceased, and Abderahman remained for a 
 time lost in wonder and admiration. "God is great I" ex- 
 claimed he, at length; " there is but one God, who is God, and 
 Mahomet is his prophet! Illustrious ambassadors, you have 
 put new life into my soul, for you have shown me something 
 to live for. In the fevv^ years that I have lived, troubles and 
 sorrows have been heaped upon my head, and I have become 
 inured to hardships and alarms. Since it is the wish of the 
 valiant Moslems of Spain, I am willing to become their leader 
 and defender, and devote myself to their cause, be it happy or 
 disastrous." 
 
 The ambassadors now cautioned him to be silent as to their 
 errand, and to depart secretly for Spain. "The sea-board of 
 Africa," said they, " swarms with your enemies, and a power- 
 ful faction in Spam would intercept you on landing, did they 
 know your name and rank, and the object of your coming. " 
 
 But Abderahman replied : " I have been cherished in adver- 
 sity by these brave Zenetes ; I ha,ve been protected and hon- 
 ored by them, Avhen a price was set upon my head, and to 
 harbor me was great ueril. How can I keei) my good fortune 
 
ABBFJiA I i:\rAN. 
 
 1G7 
 
 from my benefactors, and desert their hospitable roofs in 
 silence? He is unworthy of friendship, who ^vithholds confi- 
 dence from his friend." 
 
 Charmed with the generosity of his feelings, the ambassadors 
 made no opposition to his wishes. The Zenetes proved them- 
 selves worthy of his confidence. They hailed with joy the 
 great change in his fortunes. The warriors and the young 
 men pressed forward to follow, and aid them with horse and 
 weapon; "for the honor of a noble house and family," said 
 they, "can be maintained only by lances and horsemen." In 
 a few days he set forth, with the ambassadors, at the head of 
 nearly a thousand horsemen, skilled in war, and exercised in 
 the desert, and a large body of infantry, armed with lances. 
 The venerable Xeque, ^Yiih. w^hom he had resided, blessed him, 
 and shed tears over him at parting, as though he had been his 
 own child ; and when the youth passed over the threshold, the 
 house was filled with lamentations. 
 
 Abderahman reached Spain in safety, and landed at Almane- 
 car, with his httle band of warlike Zenetes. Spain was at that 
 time in a state of great confusion. Upward of forty years 
 had elapsed since the conquest. The civil wars in Syria and 
 Egypt had prevented the main government at Damascus from 
 exercising control over this distant and recently acquired ter- 
 ritory. Every Moslem commiinder considered the town or 
 province committed to his charge, an absolute property; and 
 accordingly exercised the most arbitrary extortions. These 
 excesses at length became insupportable, and, at a convocation 
 of many of the principal leaders, it was determined, as a means 
 to end these dissensions, to unite all the Moslem provinces of 
 Spain under one Emir, cr General Governor. Yusuf el Fehri, 
 an ancient man, of honorable hneage, was chosen for this 
 station. He began his reign with policy, and endeavored to 
 conciliate all parties; but the distribution of offices soon 
 created pov/erful enemies among the disappointed leaders. A 
 civil war was the consequence, and Spain was deluged with 
 blood. The troops of both parties burned and ravaged and 
 laid everytliing waste, to distress their antagonists; the vil- 
 lages were abandoned by their inhabitants, who fled to the 
 cities for refuge ; and flourishing towns disappeared from the 
 face of the earth, or remained mere heaps of rubbish and 
 ashes. At the time of the landing of Abderahman in Spain, the 
 old Emir Yusuf had obtained a signal victory. He had cap- 
 tured Saragossa, in which was Ameer ben Aim-u, his principal 
 
Till': CRAYON i\ir/:ns. 
 
 enemy, together with bis son and secretary. Loading his pri- 
 Boners with chains, and putting them on camels, he set out in 
 tn'umph for Cordova, considering himself secure in the abso- 
 lute domination of Spain. 
 
 lie had halted one day in a valley called Wadarambla, and 
 was reposing with his family in his pavihon. while his people 
 and the prisoners made a repast in the open air. In the midst 
 of his repose, his* confidential adherent and general, the Wali 
 Samael, galloped into the camp covered with dust, and ex- 
 hausted with fatigue. He brought tidings of the arrival of 
 Abderahman, and that the whole sea-board was flocking to his 
 standard. Messenger after messenger came hurrj-ing into the 
 camp, confirming the fearful tidinsrs, and adding that this 
 descendant of the Omeyas had secretly been invited to Spain 
 by Amru and his followers. Yusuf waited not to ascertain 
 the truth of this accusation. Giving way to a transport of 
 fury, he ordered that Amru, his son and secretary, should 
 be cut to pieces. His conunands were instantly executed. 
 "And this cruelty," says the Arabian chronicler, "lost him 
 the favor of Allah; for from that time, success deserted his 
 standard." 
 
 Abderahman had indeed been hailed with joy on his landing 
 in Spain. The old people hoped to find tranquillity under the 
 sway of one supreme chieftain, descended fi'om their ancient 
 caliphs; the young men were rejoiced to have a youthful war- 
 rior to lead them on to victories ; and the populace, charmed 
 with his freshness and manly beauty, his majestic yet gracious 
 and affable demeanor, shouted: "Long live Abderahman ben 
 Moa^da Meramamolin of Spain !" 
 
 In a few days the youthful sovereign saw himself at the 
 head of more than twenty thousand men, from the neighbor- 
 hood of Elvira, Almeria, Malaga, Xeres, and Sldonia. Fair 
 Seville threw open its gates at his approach, and celebrated h^"s 
 arrival with public rejoicings. He continued his march into 
 the country, vanquished one of the sons of Yusuf before the 
 gates of Cordova, and obliged him to take refuge within its 
 walls, where he held him in close siege. Hearing, however, of 
 the approach of Yusuf, the father, ^dth a powerfid army, he 
 divided his forces, and leaving ten thousand men to press the 
 siege, he hastened with the other ten to meet the coining foe. 
 
 Yusuf had indeed mustered a formidable force, from the 
 east and south of Spain, and accompanied by his veteran gene- 
 ral, Samael, came with confident boasting to drive this in- 
 
ABDERAUMAN. 
 
 1G9 
 
 truder from the land. His confidence increased on beholding 
 tho small army of Abderahman. Turning to Samael, he re- 
 peated, with a scornful sneer, a verse from an Arabian poetess, 
 which says : 
 
 ' ' How hard is our lot ! We come, a thirsty multitude, and 
 lo ! but this cup of v/ater to share among us !" 
 
 There was indeed a fearful odds. On the one side were twc 
 veteran generals, gTOwn gi*ay in victory, with a mighty host 
 of warriors, seasoned in the wars of Spain. On the other side 
 was a mere youth, scarce attained to manliood, with a hasty 
 levy of half-disciplined troops; but the youth was a prince, 
 flushed with hope, and aspiring after fame and empiie; and 
 surrounded by a devoted band of warriors from Africa, whose 
 example infused desperate zeal into the little army. 
 
 The encounter took place at daybreak. The mipetuous valor 
 of the Zenetes carried everything before it. The cavalry of 
 Yusuf was broken, and driven back upon the infantry, and 
 before noon the whole host was put to headlong flight. Yusuf 
 and Samael were borne along in the torrent of the fugitives, 
 raging and storming, and making ineffectual efforts to rally 
 them. They were separated widely in the confusion of the 
 flight, one taldng refuge in the Algarves, the other in the 
 kingdom of Murcia. They afterward rallied, reunited their 
 forces, and made another desperate stand near Almunecar. 
 The battle was obstinate and bloody, but they were again 
 defeated, and driven, with a handful of followers, to take 
 refuge in the rugged mountains adjacent to Elvira. 
 
 The spirit of the veteran Samael gave way before these fear- 
 ful reverses. "In vain, Yusuf!" said he, "do we contend 
 with the prosperous star of this youthful conqueror : the will 
 of Allah be done ! Let us submit to our fate, and sue for favor- 
 able terms, while we have yet the means of capitulation." 
 
 It was a hard trial for the proud spirit of Yusuf, that had 
 once aspired to uncontrolled sway ; but he was compelled to 
 capitulate. Abderahman was as generous as brave. He 
 gTanted the two gray -headed generals the most honorable con- 
 ditions, and even took the veteran Samael into favor, employ- 
 ing him, as a mark of confidence, to visit the eastern provinces 
 of Spain, and restore them to tranquillity. Yusuf, havmg de- 
 livered up Elvira and Granada, and complied with other arti- 
 cles of his capitulation, was permitted to retire to Murcia, and 
 rejoin his son Muhamad. A general amnesty to ail chiefs and 
 soldiers who should yield up their strongholds, and lay down 
 
170 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 their arms, completed the trimnph of Abderahman, and brought 
 all hearts into obedienco. 
 
 Thus terminated tliis severe struggle for the domination of 
 Spain; and thus the illustrious family of Omeya, after having 
 been cast down and almost exterminated in the East, took new 
 root, and sprang forth prosperously in the West. 
 ^ Wherever Abderaliman appeared, he was received with rap- 
 turous acclamations. As he rode through the cities, the popu- 
 lace rent the air with shouts of joy ; the stately palaces were 
 crowded with spectators, eager to gain a sight of his graceful 
 form and beaming countenance; and when they beheld the 
 mingled majesty and benignity of their new monarch, and the 
 sweetness and gentleness of his whole conduct, they extolled 
 liim as somethmg more than mortal ; as a beneficent genius, 
 sent for the happiness of Spain. 
 
 In the interval of peace wliich now succeeded, Abderalunan 
 occupied himself in promoting the useful and elegant arts, and 
 in introducing into Spain the refinements of the East. Con- 
 sidering the building and ornamenting of cities as among the 
 noblest employments of the tranquil hours of princes, he be- 
 stowed great pains upon beautif jnng the city of Cordova and 
 its environs. He reconstructed banks and dykes, to keep the 
 Guadalquiver from overfloAving its borders, and. on the vast 
 terraces thus formed, he planted dehghtful gardens. In the 
 midst of these, he erected a lofty tower, commanding a view 
 of the vast and fruitful valley, enhvened by the windings of the 
 river. In tliis tower he would pass hours of meditation, gaz- 
 ing on the soft and varied landscape, and inUaling the bland 
 and balmy airs of that delightful reg-ion. At such times, his 
 thoughts would recur to the past, and the misfortunes of his 
 youth; the massacre of his family would rise to view, mingled 
 with tender recollections of his native country, from which he 
 was exiled. In these melancholy musings he would sit with 
 his eyes fixed upon a palm-tree which he had planted in the 
 •nidst of his garden. It is said to have been the first ever 
 planted in Spain, and to have been the parent-stock of all the 
 pahn-trees which grace the southern provinces of the pem'nsula. 
 Tiie heart of Abderahman yearned toward this tree; it was the 
 offspring of his native country, and lilce him, an exile. In one 
 of his moods of tenderness, he composed verses upon it. which 
 have since become famous throughout the world. The follow- 
 ing is a rude but literal translation : 
 
 " Beauteous Pahn ! thou also wert hither brought a stranger: 
 
ABDEBAUMAN. 
 
 171 
 
 but thy roots have found a kindly soil, thy head is lifted to 
 the skies, and tlie sweet aii*s of Algarve fondle and kiss thy 
 branches. 
 
 " Thou liast known, hke me, the storms of adverse fortune. 
 Bitter tears wouldst thou shed, couldst thou feel my woes. 
 Repeated griefs liave overwhelmed me. With early tears i be- 
 dewed the pahns on the banks of the Euphrates; but neither 
 tree nor river heeded my sorrows, when driven by cruel fate, 
 and the ferocious Aboul Abbas, from the scenes of my child- 
 hood and the sweet objects of my affection. 
 
 ' ' To thee no remembrance remains of my beloved country ; 
 I, unliappy ! can never recall it without tears.-' 
 
 The generosity of Abderahman to his vanquished foes was 
 destined to be abused. The veteran Yusuf, in visitiag certain 
 of the cities which he had surrendered, found himself sur- 
 rounded by zealous partisans, ready to peril life in his service. 
 The love of command revived in nis bosom, and he rex)ented 
 the f acihty with which he had suffered himseK to be persuaded 
 to submission. .Flushed with new hopes of success, he caused 
 arms to be secretly collected, and deposited in various villages, 
 most zealous in their i^rof essions of devotion, and raising a con- 
 siderable body of troops, seized upon the castle of Almodovar. 
 The rash rebelhon was short-hved. At the first appearance of 
 an army sent by Abderahman, and commanded by Abdelme- 
 lee, governor of Seville, the villages which had so recently pro- 
 fessed loyalty to Yusuf, hastened to declare their attachment 
 to the monarch, and to give up the concealed arms. Almodo- 
 var was soon retaken, and Yusuf, driven to the environs of 
 Lorea, was surrounded by the cavalry of Abdelmelee. The 
 veteran endeavored to cut a passage through the enemy, but 
 after fighting with desperate fury, and with a force of arm in- 
 credible in one of bis age, he feU beneath blows from weapons 
 of a]l kinds, so that after the battle his body could scarcely be 
 recognized, so numerous were the wounds. His head was cut 
 otf and sent to Cordova, where it was placed in an iron cage, 
 over the gate of the city. 
 
 Tlie old lion was dead, but his whelps survived. Yusuf had 
 left three sons, who inherited his warhke spirit, and were eager 
 to revenge his death. Collecting a number of the scattered 
 adherents of their house, they surprised and seized upon To- 
 ledo, during the absence of Temam, its Wall or commander. 
 In this old warrior city, buUt upon a rock, and almost sur- 
 rounded by the Tagus. they set up a kind of robber hold. 
 
172 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 scouring the surrounding country, levying tribute, seizing upon 
 horses, and compelhng the peasantry to join their standard. 
 Every day cavalcades of horses and mules, laden with spoil, 
 with flocks of sheep and droves of cattle, came pouring over 
 the bridges on either side of the city, and thronging in at the 
 gates, the iilunder of the surrounding country. Those of the 
 inhabitants who were still loyal to Abderahman dared not lift 
 up their voices, for men of the sword bore sway. At length 
 one day, when the sons of Yusuf , w ith their choicest troops, 
 were out on a maraud, the watchmen on the towers gave the 
 alarm. A troop of scattered horsemen were spurring wildly 
 toward the gates. The banners of the sons of Yusuf were 
 descried. Two of them spurred into the city, followed by a 
 handful of warriors, covered with confusion and dismay. 
 They had been encountered and defeated by the WaU Temam, 
 and one of the brothers had been slain. 
 
 The gates were secured in all haste, and the walls were 
 scarcely manned, when Temam appeared before them with his 
 troops, and summoned the city to surrender. A great internal 
 commotion ensued between the loyalists and the insurgents; 
 the latter, however, had weapons in their hands, and prevailed ; 
 and for several days, trusting to the strength of their rock- 
 built fortress, they set the Wall at defiance. At length some 
 of the loyal inhabitants of Toledo, who knew all its secret and 
 subterraneous passages, some of which, if chroniclers may be 
 believed, have existed since the days of Hercules, if not of 
 Tubal Cain, introduced Temam and a chosen band of his war- 
 riors into the very centre of the city, where they suddenly 
 appeared as if by magic. A panic seized upon the insurgents. 
 Some sought safety in submission, some in concealment, some 
 in flight. Casim, one of the sons of Yusuf, escaped in disguise ; 
 the youngest, unarmed, was taken, and was sent captive to 
 the king, accompanied by the head of his brother, who had been 
 sJain in battle. 
 
 When Abderahman beheld the youth laden with chains, he 
 remembered his own sufferings in his early days, and had com- 
 passion on him; but, to prevent him from doing further mis- 
 chief, he imprisoned him in a tower of the waU of Cordova. 
 
 In the meantime Casim, who had escaped, managed to raise 
 another band of warriors. Spain, in all ages a guerilla coun- 
 try, prone to partisan warfare and petty maraud, was at that 
 time infested by bands of licentious troops, who had sprung 
 up in the civil contests j their only object pillage, their only 
 
ABBERAHMAN. 
 
 173 
 
 dependence the sword, and ready to flock to any new and 
 desperate standard, that promised the greatest Hcense. With 
 a ruffian force thus levied, Ca^sim scoured the country, took 
 Sidonia by storm, and surprised Seville while in a state of 
 unsuspecting security. 
 
 Abderaliman put himself at the head of his faithful Zenetes, 
 and took the field in person. By the rapidity of his move- 
 ments, tlie rebels were defeated, Sidonia and Seville speedily 
 i-etaken, and Casim was made prisoner. The generosity of 
 Abderahman was again exhibited toward this unfortunate son 
 of Yusuf . He spared his life, and sent him to be confined in a 
 tovrer at Toledo. 
 
 The veteran Samael had taken no part in these insurrections, 
 but had attended faitlifully to the affairs intrusted to him by 
 Abdcrahm.an. The death of his old friend and colleague, 
 Yusuf, however, and the subsequent disasters of his family, 
 filled him with despondency. Fearing the inconstancy of for- 
 tune, and the dangers incident to public employ, he entreated 
 the king to be permitted to retire to his house in Seguenza, 
 and indulge a privacy and repose suited to his advanced age. 
 His prayer was granted. The veteran laid by his arms, bat- 
 tered in a thousand conflicts ; hung his svf ord and lance against 
 the wall, and, surrounded by a few friends, gave himself up 
 apparently to the sweets of quiet and unambitious leisure. 
 
 Who can count, however, upon the tranquil content of a 
 heart nurtured amid the storms of war and ambition ! Under 
 the ashes of this outward humility were glowing the coals of 
 faction. In his seemingly philosophical retirement, Samael was 
 concerting with his friends new treason against Abderahman. 
 His plot was discovered ; his house was suddenly surrounded 
 by troops ; and he was conveyed to a tower at Toledo, where, 
 in the course of a few months, he died in captivity. 
 
 The magnanimity of Abderahman was again put to the 
 proof, by a new insurrection at Toledo. Hixem ben i^.dra, a 
 relation of Yusuf, seized upon the Alcazar, or citadel, slew 
 'several of the royal adherents of the king, liberated Casim 
 from his tower, and, summoning all the banditti of the coun- 
 try, soon mustered a force of ten thousand men. Abderahman 
 was quickly before the walls of Toledo, v/ith the troo])s of 
 Cordova and his devoted Zenetes. The rebels were brought to 
 terms, and surrendered the city on promise of general pardon, 
 which was extended even to Hixem and Casim. "V^Haen the 
 chieftains saw Hixem and his principal confederates in the 
 
174 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 power of Abderahman, they advised him to put them all to 
 death. "A promise given to traitors and rebels," said they, 
 "is not binding, when it is to the interest of the state that it 
 should be broken." 
 
 "No !" rephed Abderahman, "if the safety of my thront were 
 at stake, I would not break my word." So saying, he con- 
 firmed the amnesty, and granted Hixem ben Adra a worthless! 
 life, to be employed in farther treason. 
 
 Scarcely had Abderahman returned from this expedition, 
 when a powerful army, sent by the cahph, landed from Africa 
 on the coast of the Algarves. The commander, Aly ben 
 Mogueth, Emir of Cairvan, elevated a rich banner which he 
 had received from the hands of the caliph. Wherever he 
 went, he ordered the cahph of the East to be proclaimed by 
 sound of trumpet, denouncing Abderahman as a usurper, the 
 vagrant member of a family proscribed and execrated in all 
 the mosques of the East. 
 
 One of the first to join his standard was Hixem ben Adra, so 
 recently pardoned by Abderahman. He seized upon the cita- 
 del of Toledo, and repaii-ing to the camp of Aly, offered to 
 deliver the city into his hands. 
 
 Abderahman, as bold in war as he was gentle in peace, took 
 the field with his wonted promptness ; overthrew his enemies, 
 with great slaughter, drove some to the sea-coast to regain 
 their ships, and others to the mountains. The body of Aly was 
 found on the field of battle. Abderahman caused the head to 
 be struck off, and conveyed to Cairvan, where it was affixed 
 at night to a column in the pubhc square, with this inscription : 
 * ' Thus Abderahman, the descendant of the Omeyas, punishes 
 the rash and arrogant." Hixem ben Adra escaped from the 
 field of battle, and excited farther troubles, but was eventually 
 captured by Abdelmelee, who ordered his head to be struck 
 off on the spot, lest he should again be spared, through the 
 wonted clemency of Abderahman. 
 
 Notwithstanding these signal triumphs, the reign of Abder- 
 ahman was disturbed by farther insurrections, and by another 
 descent from Africa, but he was victorious over them all; 
 striking the roots of his j^ower deeper and deeper into the land. 
 Under his sway, the government of Spain became more reg- 
 ular and consolidated, and acquired an independence of the 
 empire of the East. The caliph continued to be considered as 
 first pontiff and chief of the rehgion, but he ceased to have any 
 temporal power over Spain. 
 
ABDERAIIMAN. 
 
 175 
 
 Having again an interval of peace, Abderahman devoted 
 himself to the education of his children. Suleiman, the eldest, 
 he appointed Wali, or governor, of Toledo; Abdallah, the 
 second, was intrusted with the command of Merida ; but the 
 third son, Hixem, was the delight of his heart, the son of 
 Howara, his favorite sultana, whom he loved throughout life 
 with the utmost tenderness. With this youth, w^ho was full 
 of promise, he relaxed from the fatigues of government ; join- 
 ing in his youthful sports amid the delightful gardens of Cor- 
 dova, and teaching him. the gentle art of falconry, of which 
 the king was so fond that he received the name of the Falcon 
 of Coraixi. 
 
 Wliile Abderahman was thus indulging in the gentle pro- 
 pensities of his nature, mischief was secretly at work. Muha- 
 mad, the youngest son of Yusuf , had been for many years a 
 prisoner in the tower of Cordova. Being passive and resigned, 
 his keepers relaxed their vigilance, and brought him forth 
 from his dungeon. He went groping about, however, in 
 broad daylight, as if still in the darkness of his tower. His 
 guards watched him narrowly, lest this should be a deception, 
 but were at length convinced that the long absence of hght 
 had rendered liim blind. They now permitted him to descend 
 frequently to the lower chambers of the tower, and to sleep 
 there occasionally, during the heats of summer. They even 
 allowed him to grope his way to the cistern, in quest of water 
 for his ablutions. 
 
 A year passed in this way without anything to excite sus- 
 picion. During all this time, however, the blindness of Muha- 
 mad was entirely a deception ; and he was concerting a plan 
 of escape, through the aid of some friends of his father, who 
 found means to visit him occasionally. One sultry evening 
 in midsummer, the guards had gone to bathe in the Guadal- 
 quiver, leaving Muhamad alone, in the lower chambers of the 
 tower. No sooner were they out of sight and hearing, than he 
 hastened to a ^™dow of the stair-case, leading down to the 
 cistern, lowered himself as far as his arms would reach, and 
 dropped without injury to the gi^ound. Plunging into the 
 Guadalquiver, he swam across to a thick grove on the opposite 
 side, where his friends were waiting to receive him. Here, 
 moimting a horse which they had provided for an event of the 
 kind, he fled across the country, by sohtary roads, and made 
 good his escape to the mountains of Jaen. 
 
 The guardians of the tower dreaded for some time to make 
 
176 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 known his flight to Abderahman. When at length it was told 
 to -him, he exclaimed: "All is the work of eternal wisdom; it 
 is intended to teach us that we cannot benefit the wicked with^ 
 out injuring the good. The flight of that blind man will cause 
 much trouble and bloodshed." 
 
 His predictions were verified. Muhamad reared the stan- 
 dard of rebellion on the mountains ; the seditious and discon 
 tented of all kinds hastened to join it, together with soldiers 
 of fortune, or rather wandering banditti, and he had soon six 
 thousand men, well armed, hardy in habits, and desperate 
 in character. His brother Casim also reappeared about the 
 same time in the mountains of Ronda, at the head of a daring 
 band that laid all the neighboring valleys under contribution. 
 
 Abderahman summoned his alcaydes from their various mili- 
 tary posts, to assist in driving the rebels from their mountain 
 fastnesses into the plains. It was a dangerous and protracted 
 toil, for the mountains were frightfully wild and rugged. He 
 entered them with a powerful host, driving the rebels from 
 height to haight and valley to valley, and harassing them by a 
 galling fire from thousands of cross-bows. At length a deci- 
 sive battle took place near the river Guadalemar. The rebels 
 were signally defeated; four thousand fell in action, inany 
 were drowned in the river, and Muhamad, with a few horse- 
 men, escaped to the mountains of the Algarves. Here he was 
 hunted by the alcaydes from one desolate retreat to another ; 
 his few followers grew tired of shaiing the disastrous fortunes 
 of a fated man ; one by one deserted him, and he himself de- 
 serted the remainder, fearing they might give him up, to pur- 
 chase their own pardon. 
 
 Lonely and disguised, he plunged into the depths of the 
 forests, or lurked in dens and caverns, like a famished wolf, 
 often casting back his thoughts AvLth regret to the time of hir^ 
 captivity in the gloomy tower of Cordova. Hunger at length 
 drove him to Alarcon, at the risk of being discovered. Famine 
 and misery, however, had so wasted and changed him, that lie 
 was not recognized. He remained nearly a year in Alarcon, 
 unnoticed and unknown, yet constantly tormenting himself 
 with the dread of discovery, and with groundless fears of the 
 vengeance of Abderahman. Death at length put an end to his 
 wretchedness. 
 
 A milder fate attended his brother Casim. Being defeated 
 in the mountains of Murcia, he was conducted in chains to 
 Cordova. On coming into the presence of Abderahman, his 
 
ABDFAIAIIMAN. 
 
 177 
 
 once fierce and haughty spirit, broken by distress, gave way ; 
 he throw himself on the earth, liissed the dust beneath the feet 
 of the king, and implored his clemency. The benignant heart 
 of Abderahman was filled with melancholy, rather than exul- 
 tation, at beholding this wreck of the once haughty family of 
 Yusuf a suppliant at his feet, and suing for mere existence. 
 He thought upon the inutability of fortune, and felt how in- 
 secure are all her favors. He raised the unhappy Casim from 
 the earth, ordered his irons to be taken off, and, not content 
 with mere forgiveness, treated him with honor, and gave him 
 possessions in Seville, where he might hve in state conform- 
 able to the ancient dignity of his family. Won by this great 
 and persevering magnanimity, Casiir ever after remained one 
 of the most devoted of his subjects. 
 
 All the enemies of Abderahman were at length subdued ; he 
 reigned undisputed sovereign of the Moslems of Spain ; and so 
 benign was his government, that every one blessed the revival 
 of the illustj'ious line of Omeya. He was at all times accessible 
 to the humblest of his subjects : the poor man ever found in 
 him a friend, and the oppressed a protector. He unproved the 
 administration of justice ; established schools for public instruc- 
 tion ; encouraged poets and men of letters, and cultivated the 
 sciences. He built mosques in every city that he visited ; in- 
 culcated religion by example as well as by precept ; and cele- 
 brated all the festivals prescribed by the Koran, with the 
 utmost magnificence. 
 
 As a monument of gratitude to God for the prosperity with 
 which he had been favored, he undertook to erect a mosque in 
 his favorite city of Cordova, that should rival in splendor the 
 great mosque of Damascus, and excel the one recently erected 
 in Bagdad by the Abbassides, the supplanters of his family. 
 
 It is said that he himself furnished the plan for this famous 
 edifice, and even worked on it, with liis own hands, one hour 
 in each day, to testify his zeal and humility in the service of 
 God, and to animate his workmen. He did not live to see it 
 completed, but it was finished according to his plans by his 
 son Hixem. When finished, it surpassed the most splendid 
 mosques of the east. It was six hundred feet in length, and 
 two hundred and fifty in breadth. Within were twenty-eight 
 aisles, crossed by nineteen, supported by a thousand and ninety- 
 three columns of marble. There were nineteen portals, covered 
 with plates of bronze of rare workmanship. The princi])al 
 portal was covered with plates of gold. On the summit of the 
 
178 
 
 THE CRAYON rAFERS. 
 
 grand cupola were three gilt balls surmounted by a golden 
 pomegranate. At night, the mosque was illuminated with 
 four thousand seven hundred lamps, and gi-eat sums were 
 expended in amber and aloes, which were burned as perfumes. 
 The mosque remains to this day, shorn of its ancient splendor, 
 yet still one of the grandest Moslem monuments in Spain. 
 
 Fmding himself advancing in years, Abderahman assembled 
 in his capital of Cordova the principal governors and com- 
 manders of his kingdom, and in presence of them all, with 
 great solemnity, nominated his son Hixem as the successor to 
 the throne. All jDresent made an oath of fealty to Abderah- 
 man during his life, and to Hixem after his death. The prince 
 was younger than his brothers, Soleiman and Abdallah; but 
 he was the son of Howara, the tenderly beloved sultana of 
 Abderahman, and her influence, it is said, gained him this 
 preference. 
 
 Within a few months afterward, Abderahman fell grievously 
 sick at Merida. Finding his end approaching, he summoned 
 Hixem to his bedside: "My son," said he, " the angel of death 
 is hovering over me ; treasure up, therefore, in thy heart this 
 dying counsel, which I give through the great love I bear thee. 
 Eemember that all empire is from God, who gives and takes it 
 away, according to his pleasure. Since God, through his 
 divine goodness, has given us regal power and authority, let 
 us do his holy vnR, which is nothing else than to do good to all 
 men, and especially to those committed to our protection. 
 Eender equal justice, my son, to the rich and the poor, and 
 never suffer injustice to be done within thy dominion, for it is 
 the road to perdition. Be merciful and benignant to those 
 dependent upon thee. Confide the government of thy cities 
 and provinces to men of worth and experience ; pumsh without 
 compassion those ministers who oppress thy people with exor- 
 bitant exactions. Pay thy troops punctually; teach them to 
 feel a certainty in thy promises ; command them with gentle- 
 ness but firmness, and make them in truth the defenders of 
 the state, not its destroyers. Cultivate unceasingly the affec- 
 tions of thy people, for in their good-^vill consists the security 
 of the state, in their distrust its peril, in their hatred its cer- 
 tain ruin. Protect the husbandmen who cultivate the earth, 
 and yield us necessary sustenance ; never permit their fields, 
 and groves, and gardens to be disturbed. In a word, act in 
 such wise that thy people may bless thee, and may crijoy, 
 under the shadow of thy wing, a secure and tranquil life. In 
 
THE WIDOW'S ORDtJAL, 
 
 179 
 
 this consists good government; if thou dost practise it, thou 
 wilt be happy among thy people, and renowned throughout 
 the world." 
 
 Having given this excellent counsel, the good king Abderah- 
 man blessed his son Hixem, and shortly after died ; being but 
 in the sixtieth year of his age. He was interred with great 
 pomp ; but the highest honors that distinguished his funeral 
 were the tears of real sorrow shed upon his grave. He left 
 behind him a name for valor, justice, and magnanimity, and 
 forever famous as being the founder of the glorious line of the 
 Ommiades in Spain. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL, 
 
 OR A JUDICIAL TRIAL BY COMBAT. 
 
 The world is daily growing older and wiser. Its institutions 
 vary with its years, and mark its growing wisdom ; and none 
 more so than its modes of investigating truth, and ascertaining 
 guilt or innocence. In its nonage, when man was yet a fallible 
 being, and doubted the accuracy of his own intellect, appeals 
 were made to heaven in dark and doubtful cases of atrocious 
 accusation. 
 
 The accused was required to plunge his hand in boiling oil, 
 or to walk across red-hot ploughshares, or to maintain his 
 innocence in armed fight and listed field, in person or by 
 champion, li he passed these ordeals unscathed, he stood 
 acquitted, and the result Avas regarded as a verdict from on 
 high. 
 
 It is somewhat remarkable that, in the gallant age of 
 chivalry, the gentler sex should have been most frequently the 
 subjects of these rude trials and perilous ordeals; and that, 
 too, when assailed in their most dehcate and vulnerable part — 
 clieir honor. 
 
 In the present very old and enhghtened age of the world, 
 when the human intellect is perfectly competent to the man- 
 agement of its own concerns, and needs no special interposition 
 of heaven in its affairs, the trial by jury has superseded these 
 superhuman ordeals ; and the unanimity of twelve discordant 
 minds is necessary to constitute a verdict. Such a unanimity 
 would, at first sight, appear also to require a miracle from 
 heaven; but it is pi-oduced by a simple device of hiunan 
 
180 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 ingenuity. The twelve jurors are locked up in their box, there 
 to fast until abstinence shall have so clarified their intellects 
 that the whole jarring panel can discern the truth, and concur 
 in a unanimous decision. One point is certain, that truth is 
 one, and is immutable — ^imtil the jurors all agree, they cannot 
 all be right. 
 
 It is not our intention, however, to discuss this great judicial 
 point, or to question the avowed superiority .of the mode of 
 investigating truth adopted in this antiquated and very saga- 
 cious era. It is our object merely to exhibit to the curious 
 reader one of the most memorable cases of judicial combat we 
 find in the annals of Spain. It occurred at the briglit com- 
 mencement of the reign, and in the youtliful, and, as yet, 
 glorious days, of Roderick the Goth; who subsequently tar- 
 nished his fame at home by his misdeeds, and, finally, lost his 
 kingdom and his life on the banks of the Guadalete, in that 
 disastrous battle which gave up Spain a conquest to the Moors. 
 The following is the story : 
 
 There was once upon a time a certain duke of Lorraine, who 
 was acknowledged throughout liis domains to be one of the 
 wisest princes that ever lived. In fact, there was no one 
 measure adopted by him that did not astonish his privy coun- 
 sellors and gentlemen in attendance ; and he said such witty 
 things, and made such sensible speeches, that the jaws of his 
 high chamberlain were well-nigh dislocated from laughing with 
 delight at one, and gaping with wonder at the other. 
 
 This very witty and exceedingly wdse potentate lived for 
 half a century in single-blessedness; at length his courtiers 
 began to think it a great pity so wise and wealthy a prince 
 should not have a child after his own Hkeness, to inherit his 
 talents and domains ; so they urged liim most respectfully to 
 marry, for the good of his estate, and the welfare of his sub- 
 jects. 
 
 He turned their advice over in his mind some four or five 
 years, and then sent forth emissaries to summon to his court 
 all the beautiful maidens in the land who were ambitious of 
 sharing a ducal crown. The court was soon crowded with 
 beauties of all styles and complexions, from among whom he 
 chose one in the earliest budding of her charms, and acknow- 
 ledged by all the gentlemen to be unparalleled for grace and 
 loveliness. The courtiers extolled the duke to the skies for 
 making such a choice, and considered it another proof of his 
 great wisdom. " The duke," said they, "is waxing a little too 
 
TUK WIDOWS ORBEAL. 
 
 181 
 
 old, the damsel, on the other hand, is a little too young; if one 
 is lacking in years, the other has a superabundance; thus a 
 wa,nt on one side is balanced by the excess on the other, and 
 the result is a well-assorted marriage." 
 
 The duke, as is often the case with wise men who marry 
 rather late, and talj:e damsels rather youthful to their bosoms, 
 became dotingly fond of his wife, and very properly indulged 
 her in all things. He was, consequently, cried up by his sub- 
 jects in general, and by the ladies in particular, as a pattern 
 for husbands ; and, in the end, from the wonderful docility 
 with which he submitted to be reined and checked, acquired 
 the amiable and enviable appellation of Duke Philibert the 
 wife-ridden. 
 
 There was only ons thing that disturbed the conjugal felicity 
 of this paragon of husbands — though a considerable time 
 elapsed after his marriage, there was still no prospect of an 
 heir. The good duke left no means untried to propitiate 
 Heaven. He made vows and pilgrimages, he fasted and he 
 prayed, but all to no purpose. The courtiers were all aston- 
 ished at the circumstance. They could not account for it. 
 While the meanest peasant in the country had sturdy brats by 
 dozens, without putting up a prayer, the duke wore huuself to 
 skin and bone with penances and fastings, yet seemed farther 
 off from his object than ever. 
 
 At leng-th, the vforthy j^rince fell dangerously ill, and felt his 
 end approacliing. He looked sorrowfully and dubiously upon 
 liis young and tender spouse, who hung over him with tears 
 and sobbings. "Alas!" said he, "tears are soon dried from 
 youthful eyes, and sorrow lies lightly on a youthful heart. In 
 a little while thou wilt forget in the arms of another husband 
 him who has loved thee so tenderly." 
 
 "Never! never!" cried the duchess. " Never wiU I cleave 
 to another ! Alas, that my lord should think me capable of 
 such inconstancy i" r 
 
 The worthy and wife-ridden duke was soothed by her assui 
 ances ; for he could not brook the thought of giving her up 
 even after he should be dead. Still he wished to have some 
 pledge of her enduring constancy : 
 
 " Fa-r be it from me, my dearest wife," said he, "to control 
 thee through a long life. A year and a day of strict fideUty 
 will appease my troubled spirit. Promise to remain faithful to 
 my memory for a year and a day, and I will die in peace. " 
 
 The duchess made a solenm vow to that effect, but the uxori- 
 
» 
 
 182 THE CUAYON PAPERS. 
 
 ous feelings of the duke were not yet satisfied . ' * Safe hind, safe 
 find," thought he; so he made a will, bequeathing to her all hiP 
 domains, on condition of her remaining true to him for a year 
 and a day after his decease ; but, should it appear that, withm 
 that time, she had in any\\dse lapsed from her fidehty, the in- 
 heritance should go to his nephew, the lord of a neighboring 
 territory. 
 
 Having made his will, the good duke died and was buried. 
 Scarcely was he in his tomb, when his nepnew came to take 
 possession, thinking, as his uncle had died without issue, the 
 domains would be devised to him of course. He was in a furi- 
 ous passion, when the will was produced, and the young widow 
 declared inheritor of the dukedom. As he was a violent, high- 
 handed man, and one of the sturdiest knights in the land, fears 
 were entertaiued that he might attempt to seize on the terri- 
 tories by force. He had, however, two bachelor uncles for 
 bosom counsellors, swaggermg, rakehelly old cavaliers, who, 
 ha^Ting led loose and riotous lives, prided themselves upon 
 knowing the world, and being deeply experienced in human 
 nature. "Prithee, man, be of good cheer," said they, "the 
 duchess is a young and buxom widow. She has just buried 
 our brother, who, God rest his soul ! was somewhao too much 
 given to praying and fasting, and kept Ms pretty wife always 
 tied to his girdle. She is now lilie a bh-d from a cage. Think 
 you she will keep her vow? Pooh, pooh— impossible! Take 
 our words for it — we know mankind, and, above all, woman- 
 kind. She cannot hold out for such a length of time ; it is not 
 in womanhood— it is not in-svidoAvhood— we know it, and that's 
 enough. Keep a sharp look-out upon the widow, therefore, 
 and within the twelvemonth you will catch her tripping— and 
 then the dukedom is your own." 
 
 The nephew Avas pleased with ttfis counsel, and immediately 
 placed spies round the duchess, and bribed several of her ser- 
 vants to keep watch upon her, so that she could not take a 
 single step, even from one apartment of her palace to another, 
 Avithout being observed. Never was young and beautiful 
 widow exposed to so terrible an ordeal. 
 
 The duchess was aware of the watch thus kept upon her. 
 Though confident of her own rectitude, she knew that it is not 
 enough for a woman to be virtuous— she must be above the 
 reach of slander. For the whole term of her probation, there- 
 fore, she proclaimed a strict non-intercourse with the other 
 sex. She had females for cabinet ministers and chamberlains, 
 
THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 
 
 183 
 
 through whom she transacted all her public and private con- 
 cerns ; and it is said that never were the affairs of the duke- 
 dom so adroitly administered. 
 
 All males were rigorously excluded from the palace; she 
 never went out of its precincts, and whenever she moved about 
 its courts and gardens, she surroimded herself with a body- 
 guard of young maids of honor, commanded by dames re- 
 nowned for discretion. She slept in a bed -without curtains, 
 placed in the centre of a room illuminated by innumerable wax 
 tapers. Four ancient spinsters, virtuous as Virginia, perfect 
 dragons of watchfulness, who only slept during the daytime, 
 kept vigils throughout the night, seated in the four corners of 
 the room on stools without backs or arms, and with seats cut 
 in checkers of the hardest wood, to keep them from dozing. 
 
 Thus wisely and vv^arily did the young duchess conauct her- 
 self for twelve long months, and slander almost bit her tongue 
 oif in despair, at finding no room even for a surmise. Never 
 was ordeal more burden some, or more enduringly sustained. 
 
 The year passed away. The last, odd day arrived, and a long, 
 long day it was. It was the twenty-first of June, the longest 
 day in the year. It seemed as if it would never come to an 
 end. A thousand times did the duchess and her ladies watch 
 the sun from the windows of the palace, as he slowly climbed 
 the vault of heaven, and seemed still more slowly to roll down. 
 They could not help expressing their wonder, now and then, why 
 the duke should have tagged this supernumerary day to the 
 end of the year, as if tnree hundred and sixty-five days were 
 not sufficient to try and task the fidelity of any woman. It is 
 the last grain that turns the scale — the last drop that overflows 
 the goblet — and the last moment of delay that exhausts the 
 patience. By the time the sun sank below the horizon, the 
 duchess was in a fidget that passed all bounds, and, though 
 several hours were yet to pass before the day regularly expired, 
 she could not have remained those hours in durance to gain a 
 royal crown, much less a ducal coronet. So she gave orders, 
 and her palfrey, magnificently caparisoned, was brought into 
 the court-yard of the castle, with palfreys for all her ladies in 
 attendance. In this way she sallied forth, just as the sun had 
 gone down. It was a iTiission of piety — a pilgrim cavalcade to 
 a convent at the foot of a neighboring mountain — to return 
 thanks to the blessed Virgin, for having sustained her throug^h 
 this fearful ordeal. 
 
 The orisons performed, the duchess and her ladies returned. 
 
184 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 ambling gently along the border of a forest. It was about that 
 mellow hour of twiUght when night and day are mingled, and 
 all objects are indistinct. Suddenly, some monstrous animal 
 sprang from out a thicket, with fearful bowlings. The female 
 body-guard was thrown into confusion, and fled different ways. 
 It was some time before they recovered from their panic, and 
 gathered once more together ; but the duchess was not to be 
 found. The greatest anxiety was felt for her safety. The 
 hazy mist of twilight had prevented their distinguishing per- 
 fectly the animal which had affrighted them. Some thought 
 it a wolf, others a bear, others a wild man of the woods. For 
 upwards of an nour did they beleaguer the forest, without 
 daring to venture in, and were on the point of giving up the 
 duchess as torn to pieces and devoured, when, to their great joy, 
 they beheld her advancing in the gloom, supported by a stately 
 cavalier. 
 
 He was a stranger knight, whom nobody knew. It was 
 impossible to distinguish his countenance in the dark ; but all 
 the ladies agreed that he was of noble presence and captiva^ting 
 address. He had rescued the duchess from the very fangs of 
 the monster, which, he assured the ladies, was neither a wolf, 
 nor a bear, nor yet a wild man of the woods, but a veritable 
 fiery dragon, a species of monster peculiarly hostile to beautiful 
 females in the days of chivalry, and which aU the efforts of 
 knight-errantry had not been able to extirpate. 
 
 The ladies crossed themselves when they heard of the danger 
 from which they had escaped, and could not enough admire 
 the gallantry of the cavaHer. The duchess would fain have 
 prevailed on her dehverer to accompany her to her court ; but 
 he had no time to spare, being a knight-errant, who had many 
 adventures on nand, and many distressed damsels and afflicted 
 widows to rescue and relieve in various parts of the country. 
 Taking a respectful leave, therefore, he pursued his wayfaring, 
 and the duchess and her train returned to the palace. Through- 
 out the whole way, the ladies were unwearied in chanting the 
 praises of the stranger knight, nay, many of them would will- 
 ingly have incurred the danger of the dragon to have enjoyed 
 the happy deliverance of the duchess. As to the latter, she 
 rode pensively along, but said nothing. 
 
 No sooner was the adventure of the wood made public, than 
 a whirlwind was raised about the ears of the beautiful duchess. 
 The blustering nephew of the deceased duke went about, armed 
 to the teeth, with a swaggering uncle at each shoulder, ready 
 
THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 
 
 185 
 
 to back him, and swore the duchess had forfeited her domain. 
 It was in vain that she called all the saints, and angels, and her 
 ladies in attendance into the bargain, to witness that she had 
 passed a year and a day of immaculate fidelity. One fatal 
 hour remained to be accounted for ; and into the space of one 
 little hour sins enough may be conjured up by evil tongues, to 
 blast the fame of a whole life of virtue. 
 
 The two gi-aceless uncles, who had seen the world, were ever 
 ready to bolster the matter through, and as they were brawny, 
 broad-shouldered warriors, and veterans in brav/1 as well as 
 debauch, they had great sway v/ith the multitude. If any one 
 pretended to assert the innocence of the duchess, they inter- 
 rupted him with a loud ha! ha! of derision. " A pretty story, 
 truly," would they cry, "about a wolf and a dragon, and a 
 young widow rescued in the dark by a sturdy varlet v/ho dares 
 not show his face in the daylight. You may tell that to those 
 who do not know human nature, for our parts we know the 
 sex, and that's enough." 
 
 If, however, the other repeated his assertion, they would 
 suddenly Jinit their brows, swell, look big, and put their hands 
 upon their swords. As few people hke to fight in a cause that 
 does not touch their OAvn interests, the nephew and the uncles 
 were suiTered to have their way, and swagger uncontradicted. 
 
 The matter was at length referred to a tribunal, composed of 
 all the dignitaries of the dukedom, and many and repeated 
 consultations were held . The character of the duchess through- 
 out the year was as bright and spotless as the moon in a cloud- 
 less night; one fatal hour of darkness alone intervened to 
 eclipse its brightness. Finding human sagacity incapable of 
 dispelling the mystery, it was determined to leave the question 
 to heaven ; or in other words, to decide it by the ordeal of the 
 sword— a sage tribunal in the age of chivalry. The nephew 
 and two bully uncles were to maintain their accusation in 
 hsted combat, and six months were allowed to the duchess to 
 provide herself with three champions, to meet them in the 
 field. Should she fail in this, or should her champions be 
 vanquished, her honor would be considered as attainted, lier 
 fidelity as forfeit, and her dukedom would go to the nephe^v, 
 as a matter of right. 
 
 With this determination the duchess was fain to comply. 
 Proclamations were accordingly made, and heralds sent to 
 various parts ; but day after day, week after week, and month 
 after month, elapsed, without any champion appearing to assert 
 
186 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 her loyalty throughout that darksome hour. The fair widow 
 was reduced to despaii^, when tidings reached her of grand 
 tournaments to be held at Toledo, in celebration of the nup- 
 tials of Don Eoderick, the last of the Gothic kings, ^vitil the 
 Morisco prmcess Exilona. As a last resort, the duchess i-e- 
 paired to the Spanish court, to implore the gallantry of its 
 assembled chivalry. 
 
 The ancient city of Toledo was a scene of gorgeous revelry 
 on the event of the royal nuptials. The youthful king, brave, 
 ardent, and magnificent, and his lovely bride, beaming with 
 all the radiant beauty of the East, were hailed with shouts and 
 acclamations whenever they appeared. 
 
 Their nobles vied mth each other in the luxury of their 
 attire, their prancing steeds, and splendid retinues; and the 
 haughty dames of the court appeared in a blaze of jewels. 
 
 In the midst of all this pageantry, the beautiful, but afflicted 
 Duchess of Lorraine made her approach to the throne. She 
 was dressed in black, and closely veiled ; f om* duennas of the 
 most staid and severe aspect, and six beautifid demoiselles, 
 formed her female attendants. She was guarded by sevei-al 
 very ancient, withered, and gray headed cavaliers; and her 
 train was borne by one of the most deformed and diminutive 
 dwarfs in existence. 
 
 Advancing to the foot of the throne, she knelt down, and, 
 throwing up her veil, revealed a countenance so beautifill that 
 half the courtiers present were ready to renounce wives and 
 mistresses, and devote themselves to her service; but when 
 she made known that she came in quest of champions to 
 defend her fame, every cavalier pressed forward to offer His 
 arm and sword, without inquiring into the merits of the case ; 
 for it seemed clear that so beauteous a lady could have done 
 nothing but what was right ; and that, at any rate, she ought 
 to be championed hi folio whig the bent of her humors, whether 
 right or wrong. 
 
 Encouraged by such gallant zeal, the duchess suffered her- 
 self to be raised from the ground, and related the whole story 
 of her distress. When she concluded, the king remained for 
 some time silent, charmed by the music of her voice. At 
 length: "As I hope for salvation, most beautiful duchess," 
 said he, ' ' were I not a sovereign king, and bound in duty to 
 my Idngdom, I myself would put lance in rest to vindicate 
 your cause ; as it is, I here give full permission to my knights, 
 and promise lists and a fair field, and that the contest shall 
 
THE WIDOW'S OllBEAL. 
 
 187 
 
 take place before the walls of Toledo, in presence of my 
 assembled court." 
 
 As soon as the pleasure of the king was knoAvn, tliere was a 
 strife among the cavaliers present, for the honor of the contest. 
 It was decided by lot, and the successful candidates were 
 objects of great envy, for every one was ambitious of finding 
 favor in the eyes of the beautiful v/idow. 
 
 Missives were sent, summoning the nephew and his two 
 uncles to Toledo, to maintain their accusation, and a day was 
 appointed for the combat. When the day arrived, all Toledo 
 was in commotion at an early hour. The Hsts had been pre- 
 pared in the usual place, just without the walls, at the foot of 
 the rugged rocks on which the city is built, and on that beauti- 
 ful meadow along the Tagus, known by the name of the king's 
 garden. The populace had already assembled, each one eager 
 to secure a favorable place ; the balconies were filled with the 
 ladies of the court, clad in their richest attire, and bands of 
 youthful knights, splendidly armed and decorated with their 
 ladies' devices, were managing their superbly caparisoned 
 steeds about Jhe field. The king at length came forth in state, 
 accompanied by the queen Exilona. They took their seats in 
 a raised balcony, under a canopy of rich damask; and, at 
 sight of them, the people rent the air with acclamations. 
 
 The nephew and his uncles now rode into the field, armed 
 cap-a-pie, and followed by a train of cavaliers of their own 
 roystering cast, great swearers and carousers, arrant swash- 
 bucklers, with clanking armor and jingling spurs. When the 
 people of Toledo beheld the vaunting and discourteous appear- 
 ance of these knights, they were more anxious than ever for 
 the success of the gentle duchess; but, at the same time, the 
 sturdy and stalwart frames of these warriors, showed that 
 whoever won the victory from them, must do it at the cost of 
 many a bitter blow. 
 
 As the nephew and his riotous crew rode in at one side of the 
 field, the fair widow appeared at the other, with her suite of 
 gi'ave grayheaded courtiers, her ancient duennas and dainty 
 demoiselles, and the little dwarf toiling along under the weight 
 of her train. Every one made way for her as she passed, and 
 blessed her beautiful face, and prayed for success to her cause. 
 She took her seat in a lower balcony, not far from the sover- 
 eign ; and her pale face, set olf by her mourning weeds, was as 
 the moon shining forth from among the clouds of night. 
 
 The tmmpets sounded for the combat. The warrioi^ wero 
 
188 
 
 TllIC CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 just entering the lists, when a sti'anger knight, armed in pano- 
 ply, and followed by two pages and an esquire, came galloping 
 into the field, and, riding up to the royal balcony, clamied the 
 combat as a matter of right. 
 
 "In me," cried he, "behold the cavalier who had the happi- 
 ness to rescue the beautiful duchess from the peril of the forest, 
 and the misfortune to bring on her this grievous calumny. It 
 was but recently, in the course of my errantry, that tidings of 
 her wrongs have reached my ears, and I have urged hither at 
 all speed, to stand forth in her vindication." 
 
 No sooner did the duchess hear the accents of the knight 
 than she recognized his voice, and joined her prayers with liis 
 that he might enter the lists. The difficulty was, to determine 
 which of the three champions already appointed should yield 
 his place, each insisting on the honor of the combat. The 
 stranger knight would have settled the point, by taking the 
 whole contest upon himself; but this the other knights would 
 not permit. It was at length determined, as before, by lot, and 
 the cavalier who lost the chance retired murmuring and dis- 
 consolate. 
 
 The trumpets again sounded — the hsts were opened. The 
 arrogant nephew and his two drawcansir uncles appeared so 
 sompletely cased in steel, that they and their steeds were like 
 moving masses of iron. When they understood the stranger 
 knight to be the same that had rescued the duchess from her 
 peril, they greeted him with the most boisterous derision : 
 
 *'0 ho! sir Knight of the Dragon," said they, "you who pre- 
 tend to champion fair widows in the dark, come on, and vindi- 
 cate your deeds of darkness in the open day." 
 
 The only reply of the cavalier was to put lance in rest, and 
 brace himself for the encounter. Needless is it to relate the 
 particulars of a battle, which was lil^e so many hundred com- 
 bats that have been said and sung in prose and verse. Who is 
 there but musb have foreseen the event of a contest, where 
 Heaven had to decide on the guilt or innocence of the mc::t 
 beautiful and iimnaculate of widows? 
 
 The sagacious reader, deeply read in this kind of judicial 
 combats, can imagine the encounter of the graceless nephew 
 aiid the stranger knight. He sees their concussion, man to 
 man, and horse to horse, in mid career, and sir Graceless 
 hurled to the ground, and slain. He will not wonder that the 
 assailants of the brawny uncles were less successful in their 
 rude encounter; but he wiU pictm-e to himself the stout 
 
THE CllEOLK VILLAGE. 
 
 189 
 
 stranger spurring to their rescue, in tiie very critical moment ; 
 lie will see him transfixing one with his lance, and cleaving 
 tiie other to the chine with a back stroke of his sword, thus 
 leaving the trio of accusers dead upon the field, and establish- 
 ing the immacidate fidelity of the duchess, and her title to 
 the dukedom, beyond the shadow of a doubt. 
 
 The air rang with acclamations; nothing was heard but 
 T -raises of the beauty and virtue- of the duchess, and of th.e 
 v.rowess of the stranger knight; but the public joy was still 
 more increased when the champion raised his visor, and re- 
 vealed the countenance ol one of the bravest cavahers of Spain, 
 renowned for liis gallantry in the service of the sex, and who 
 had been round the world in quest of smiilar adventures. 
 
 That worthy knight, however, was severely wounded, and 
 remained for a long time ill of his wounds. The lovely 
 duchess, grateful for having twice owed her protection to his 
 arm, attended him daily during his illness; and finally re- 
 warded his gallantry with her hand. 
 
 The king would fain have had the knight establish his title 
 to such high advancement by farther deeds of arms ; but liis 
 courtiers declared that he already merited the lady, by thu-s 
 vindicating her fame and fortune in a deadly combat to ou- 
 trance; and the lady herself hinted that she was perfectly 
 satisfied of his prowess in arms, from the proofs she had re- 
 ceived in his achievement in the forest. 
 
 Their nuptials were celebrated with great magnificence. 
 The present husband of the duchess did not pray and fast like 
 his predecessor, Philibert the wife-ridden ; yet he found greater 
 favor in the eyes of Heaven, for their union was blessed with 
 a numerous progeny — the daughters chaste and beauteous as 
 their mother ; the sons stout and valiant as their sire, and re- 
 nowned, like him, for relieving disconsolate damsels and deso- 
 lated "v\ddows. 
 
 THE CREOLE VILLAGIE: 
 
 A SKETCH FROM A STEAMBOAT. 
 
 First Published in 1837. 
 
 In^ travelling about our motley country, I am often reminded 
 of Ariosto's account of the moon, in which the good paladin 
 
190 
 
 TEE CRAYON PAPEIiS. 
 
 Astolpho found everything garnered up that had been lost on 
 earth. So I am apt to hnagine, that many things lost in the 
 old world, are treasured up in the new ; having been handed 
 down from generation to generation, since the early days of 
 the colonies. A European antiquary, therefore, curious in his 
 researches after the ancient and almost obliterated customs 
 and usages of his country, would do v/ell to put himself upon 
 the track of some early band of emigrants, follow them across 
 the Atlantic, and rummage among their descendants on our 
 shores. 
 
 In the phraseology of New England might be found many an 
 old English provincial phra.se, long since obsolete in the parent 
 country; with some quaint relics of the roundheads; while 
 Virginia cherishes peculiarities characteristic of the days of 
 Elizabeth and Sir Walter Ealeigh. 
 
 In the same way the sturdy yeomanry of New Jersey and 
 Pennsylvania keep up many usages fading away in ancient 
 Germany; while many an honest, broad-bottomed custom, 
 nearly extinct in venerable Holland, may be found flourishing 
 in pristine vigor and luxuriance in Dutch villages, on the banks 
 of the Mohawk and the Hudson. 
 
 In no part of our country, however, are the customs and 
 peculiarities, imported from the old world by the earlier 
 settlers, kept up with more fidelity than in the little, poverty- 
 stricken villages of Spanish and French origin, which border 
 the rivers of ancient Louisiana. Their population is generally 
 made up of the descendants of those nations, married and 
 interwoven together, and occasionally crossed with a slight 
 dash of the Indian, The French character, however, floats on 
 top, as, from its buoyant quahties, it is sure to do, whenever it 
 forms a particle, however small, of an intermixture. 
 
 In these serene and dilapidated villages, art and nature stand 
 still, and the world forgets to turn round. The revolutions 
 fchat distract other parts of this mutable planet, reach not here, 
 or pass over without leaving any trace. The fortunate inhabi- 
 tants have none of that public spirit which extends its cares 
 beyond its horizon, and imports trouble and perplexity from 
 all quarters in ncAvspapers. In fact, newspapers are almost 
 unlvinown in these villages, and as French is the current lan- 
 guage, the inhabitants have little community of opinion with 
 their republican neighbors. They retain, therefore, their old 
 habits of passive obedience to the decrees of government, no 
 though they stiU lived under the absolute sway of colonial 
 
TllK CllKOLb: VILLAGE. 
 
 191 
 
 commandants, instead of being part and parcel of the sovereign 
 people, and having a voice in public legislation. 
 
 A few aged men, who have grown gray on their hereditary 
 acres, and are of the good old colonial stock, exert a pa.triar- 
 chal sway in all matters of public and private import ; their 
 opinions are considered oracular, and their word is law. 
 
 The inhabitants, moreover, have none of that eagerness for 
 gain and rage for improvement which keep our people continu- 
 ally on the move, and our country towns incessantly in a state 
 of transition. There the magic phrases, "town lots," "water 
 privileges," "railroads," and other comprehensive and soul- 
 stirring words from the speculator's vocabulary, are never 
 heard. The residents dAvell in the houses built by their fore- 
 fathers, without thinking of enlarging or modernizing them, 
 or pulling them down and turning them into granite stores. 
 The trees, under which they have been born and have played 
 in infancy, flourish undisturbed; though, by cutting them 
 down, they might open new streets, and put money in their 
 pocl^ets. In a word, the almighty dollar, that great object of 
 universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no 
 genuine devotees in these peculiar villages ; and unless some of 
 its missionaries penetrate there, and erect banking houses and 
 other pious shrines, there is no knowing how long the inliabi- 
 taiits may remain in their present state of contented poverty. 
 
 In descending one of our great Western rivers in a steam- 
 boat, 1 met with two worthies from one of these villages, who 
 had been on a distant excursion, the longest they had ever 
 made, as they seldom ventured far from home. One was the 
 great man, or Grand Seigneur, of the village ; not that he en- 
 joyed any legal privileges or power there, everything of the 
 kind having been done away when the province was ceded by 
 France to the United States. His sway over his neighbors was 
 merely one of custom and convention, out of deference to his 
 family. Beside, he was worth full fifty thousand dollars, an 
 amount almost equal, in the imaginations of the villagers, to 
 the treasures of King Solomon. 
 
 This very substantial old gentleman, though of the fourth or 
 fifth generation in this country, retained the true Gallic fea- 
 ture and deportment, and reminded me of one of those provin- 
 cial potentates that are to be met with in the remote parts of 
 France. He was of a large frame, a ginger-bread complexion, 
 strong features, eyes that stood out hke glass knobs, and a 
 prominent nose, which he frequently regaled fnjm a oold 
 
192 
 
 THE CRAYON FAPKr^^ 
 
 snuff-box, and occasionally blew, with a colored handker- 
 chief, until it sounded like a trumpet. 
 
 He was attended by an old negro, as black as ebony, with a 
 huge mouth, in a continual grin ; evidently a privileged and 
 favorite servant, who had grown up and grown old vnth liim. 
 He was dressed in Creole style — with wliite jacket and trou- 
 sers, a stiff shirt collar, tliat threatened to cut off his ears, a 
 bright Madras handkerchief tied round his head, and large 
 gold ear-rings. He was the politest negro I met with in a 
 Western tour ; and that is saying a great deal, for, excepting 
 the Indians, the negroes are the most gentlemanlike person- 
 ages to be met with in those parts. It is true, they differ from 
 the Indians in being a httle extra polite and complimentary. 
 He was also one of the merriest ; and here, too, the negroes, 
 however we may deplore their unhappy condition, have the 
 advantage of their masters. The whites are, in general, too 
 free and prosperous to be merry. The cares of maintaining 
 their rights and liberties, adding to their wealth, and making 
 presidents, engi'oss aU their thoughts, and dry up aU the mois- 
 ture of their souls. If you hear a broad, hearty, devil-may- 
 care laugh, be assured it is a negro's. 
 
 Beside this African domestic, the seigneur of the village had 
 another no less cherished and privileged attendant. This was 
 a huge dog, of the mastiff breed, with a deep, hanging mouth, 
 and a look of surly gi^avity. He walked about the cabin with 
 the air of a dog perfectly at home, and who had paid for his 
 passage. At dinner time he took his seat beside his master, 
 giving him a glance now and then out of a corner of his eye, 
 which bespoke perfect confidence that he woidd not be forgot- 
 ten. Nor was he — every now and then a huge morsel would 
 be thrown to him, peradventure the half -picked leg of a fowl, 
 which he would receive with a snap like the springing of a 
 steel-trap - one gulp, and all was down ; and a glance of the ey e 
 (,old his master that he was ready for another consignment. 
 
 The other village worthy, travelling in company with the 
 seigneur, was of a totally different stamp. Small, thin, and 
 weazen-faced, as Frenchmen are apt to be represented in cari- 
 cature, with a bright, squirrel-like eye, and a gold rmg in his 
 car. His dress was flunsy, and sat loosely on his frame, and 
 he had altogether the look of one with but little coin in his 
 pocket. Yet, though one of the poorest, I was assured he was 
 one of the merriest and most popular personages in his native 
 village. 
 
THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 
 
 193 
 
 Compere Martin, as he was commonly called, was the facto- 
 tum of the place — sportsman, school-master, and land-sur- 
 veyor. He could sing, dance, and, above all, play on the fid- 
 dle, an invaluable accomplishment in an old French Creole 
 village, for the inliabitants have a hereditary love for balls 
 and fetes ; if they work but little, they dance a great deal, and 
 a fiddle is the joy of their heart. 
 
 What had sent Compere Martin travelling vf ith the Grand 
 Seigneur I could not learn ; he evidently looked up to him with 
 great deference, and was assiduous in rendering him petty at 
 tentions ; from which I concluded that he lived at home upon 
 the crumbs which fell from his table. He was gayest when 
 out of his sight ; and had his song and his joke when forward, 
 among the deck passengers ; but altogether Compere Martin 
 was out of his element on board of a steamboat. He v/as quite 
 another being, I am told, when at home in his own village. 
 
 Like his opulent feliovz-traveller, he too had his canine fol- 
 lower and reta,iner— and one suited to his different fortunes — 
 one of the civil est, most unoffending little dogs in the world. 
 Unlike the lordly mastiff, he seemed to think he had no right 
 on board of the steamboat ; if you did but look hard at him, he 
 would throw himself upon his back, and lift up his legs, as if 
 imploring mercy. 
 
 At table he took his seat a Mttle distance from his master; 
 not with the bluff, confident air of the mastiff, but quietly and 
 diffidently, his head on one side, with one ear dubiously 
 slouched, the other hopefully cocked up; his under teeth 
 projecting beyond his black nose, and his eye wistfully fol- 
 lowing each morsel that went in«to his master's mouth. 
 
 If Compere Martin now and then should venture to abstract 
 a morsel from his plate to give to his humble companion, it 
 was edifying to see with what diffidence the exemplary little 
 animal would take hold of it, with the very tip of his teeth, as 
 if he would almost rather not, or was fearful of taking too 
 great a liberty. And then with what decorum would he eat 
 it ! How many efforts woidd he make in swallowing it, as if 
 it stuck in his throat ; with what daintiness would he hck his 
 lips ; and then Avith what an air of thankf idness would he re- 
 sume his seat, ^vith liis teeth once more projecting beyond his 
 nose, and an eye of humble expectation fixed upon his master. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when the steamboat stopped at 
 the village which was the residence of these worthies. It stood 
 on. the high bank of the river, and bore traces of having been a 
 
194 
 
 THE CllAYON PAPERS. 
 
 frontier trading post. There were the remains of stockades 
 that once protected it from the Indians, and the houses were 
 in the ancient Spanish and French colonial taste, the place 
 having been successively under the domination of both those 
 nations prior to the cession of Louisiana to the United States. 
 
 The arrival of the seigneur of fifty thousand dollars, and 
 his humble companion, Compere Martin, had evidently been 
 looked forward to as an event in the village. Numbers of 
 men, women, and children, white, yellow, and black, were 
 collected on the river bank ; most of them clad in old-fash- 
 ioned French garments, and their heads decorated with col- 
 ored handkerchiefs, or white night-caps. The moment the 
 steamboat came within sight and hearing, there was a waving 
 of handkerchiefs, and a screaming and bawling of salutations, 
 and felicitations, that baffle all description. 
 
 The old gentleman of fifty thousand dollars was received by 
 a train of relatives, and friends, and children, and grandchil- 
 dren, whom he kissed on each cheek, and who formed a pro- 
 cession in his rear, with a legion of domestics, of all ages, fol- 
 lowing him to a large, old-fashioned French house, that domi- 
 neered over the village. 
 
 His black valet-de-chambre, in white jacket and trousers, and 
 gold ear-rings, was met on the shore by a boon, though rustic 
 companion, a tall negro fellow, with a long, good-humored face, 
 and the profile of a horse, v/hich stood out from beneath a nar- 
 row-rimmed straw hat, stuck on the back of his head. The ex- 
 plosions of laughter of these two varlets, on meeting and ex- 
 changing compliments, were enough to electrify the country 
 round. 
 
 The most hearty reception, however, was that given to Com- 
 pere Martin. Everybody, young and old, hailed him before 
 he got to land. Everybody had a joke for Compere Martin, 
 and Compere Martin had a joke for everybody. Even his little 
 dog appeared, to partake of his popularity, and to be caressed 
 by every hand. Indeed, he was quite a different animal the 
 moment he touched the land. Here he was at home; here 
 he was of consequence. He barked, he leaped, he frisked about 
 his old friends, and then would skim round the place in a wide 
 circle, as if mad. 
 
 I traced Compere Martin and his httle dog to their home. It 
 was an old ruinous Spanish house, of large dimensions, with 
 verandas overshadowed by ancient elms. The house had pro- 
 bably been the residence, in old times, of the Spanish com 
 
THE CimOLE VILLAGE. 
 
 105 
 
 rrandant. In one wing of this crazy, hut aristocratical abode, 
 was nestled the family of my fellow-traveller; for poor devils 
 are apt to he magnificently clad and lodged, in the cast-ofE 
 clothes and abandoned palaces of the great and wealthy. 
 
 The arrival of Compere Martin was welcomed by a legion of 
 women, children, and mongrel curs ; and, as poverty and gay - 
 ety generally go hand in hand among the French and theii^ 
 deg(3e]idants, the crazy mansion soon resounded with loud gossip 
 and light-hearted laughter. 
 
 As tlie steamboat paused a short time at the village, I took 
 occasion to stroll about ihQ place. Most of the houses were in 
 the French taste, with casements and rickety verandas, but 
 most of them in flimsy and ruinous condition. All the wagons, 
 ploughs, and other utensils about the place were of ancient and 
 inconvenient Gallic construction, such as had been brought 
 from France in the primitive days of the colony. The very 
 looks of the people reminded me of the villa^ges of France. 
 
 From one of the houses came the hum of a spinnmg wheel, 
 accompanied by a scrap of an old French chanson, which I 
 have heard many a time among the peasantry of Languedoc, 
 doubtless a traditional song, brought over by the first French 
 emigrants, and handed down from generation to generation. 
 
 Half a dozen young lasses emerged from the adjacent dwell- 
 ings, reminding me, by their light step and gay costume, of 
 genes in ancient France, where taste in dress comes natural to 
 every class of females. The trim bodice and colored petticoat, 
 and little apron, with its pockets to receive the hands when in 
 an attitude for conversation ; the colored kerchief wound taste- 
 fully round the head, with a coquettish knot perking above one 
 ear ; and the neat slipper and tight drawn stocking, with its 
 braid of narrow ribbon embracing the ankle where it peeps 
 from its mysterious curtain. It is from this ambush that Cupid 
 sends his most inciting arrows. 
 
 While I was musing upon the recollections thus accidentally 
 summoned up, I heard the sound of a fiddle from the mansion 
 of Compere Martin, the signal, no doubt, for a joyous gather- 
 ing. I was disposed to turn my steps thither, ana witness the 
 festivities of one of the very few villages I had met with in 
 my wide tour, that was yet poor enough to be merry ; but the 
 beU of the steamboat siunmoned me to re-embark. 
 
 As we swept away from the shore, I cast back a wistful eye 
 upon the moss-grown roofs and ancient ehns of the village, 
 and prayed that the inhabitants might long retain their happy 
 
196 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 ignorance, their absence of all enterprise and improvement, 
 their respect for the fiddle, and their contempt for the almighty 
 dollar.* I fear, however, my prayer is doomed to be of no 
 avail. In a little while the steamboat vv^hirled me to an 
 American town, just springing into bustling and prosperous 
 existence. 
 
 The surrounding forest had been laid out in town lots ; frames 
 of wooden buildings were rising from among stumps and 
 burnt trees. The place already boasted a court-house, a jail, 
 and two banks, all built of pine boards, on the model of Gre- 
 cian temples. There wxre rival hotels, rival churches, and 
 rival newspapers ; together with the usual number of judges, 
 and generals, and governors; not to speak of doctors by the 
 dozen, and lawyers by the score. 
 
 The place, I was told, was m an astonishing career of im- 
 provement, with a canal and two railroads in embryo. Lots 
 doubled in price every week ; every body was speculating in 
 land; every body was rich; and every body was growing 
 richer. The community, however, was torn to pieces by new 
 doctrines in religion and in pohtical economy; there were 
 camp meetings, and agrarian meetings; and an election was 
 at hand, which, it was expected, would throw the whole coim- 
 try into a paroxysm. 
 
 Alas ! with such an enterprising neighbour, what is to become 
 of the poor little Creole village ! 
 
 A CONTENTED MAN. 
 
 In the garden of the Tuileries there is a sunny comer under 
 the wall of a terrace which fronts the south. Along the wall is a 
 ransce of benches commanding a view of the walks and avenues 
 of the garden. _ This genial nook is a place of great resort in 
 the latter part of autumn, and in fine days in winter, as it 
 seems to retain the flavor of departed summer. On a calm, 
 bright mormng it is quite alive with nursery-maids and their 
 
 * This phrase, used for tlie first time in this sketch, has since passed into current 
 circulation, and by some has been questioned as savoring of irreverence. Tho j 
 author, therefore, owes ic to his orthodoxy to declare that no irreverence was ' 
 Intended even to the dollar itself; which he is aware is daily becoming »nore and 
 more an object of worship. 
 
A tONTEiSTED 3IAN. 
 
 197 
 
 playful little charges. Hithor also resort a number of ancienti 
 ladies and gentlemen, who, with the laudable thrift in small 
 plpasures and small expenses for which the French are to be 
 noted, come here to enjoy sunshine and save firewood. Here 
 may often be seen some cavalier of the old school, when the 
 sunbeams have warmed his blood into something like a glow, 
 fluttering about like a frost-bitten moth before the fire, put- 
 ting forth a feeble show of gallantry among the antiquated 
 (lames, and now and then eyeing the buxom nursery-maids 
 with what might almost be mistaken for an air of libertinism. 
 
 Among the habitual frequenters of this place I had often 
 remarked an old gentleman, whose dress was decidedly anti- 
 revolutional. He wore the three-cornered cocked hat of the 
 uncien regime ; his hair was frizzed over each ear into ailes 
 de pigeon, a style strongly savouring of Bourbonism ; and a 
 queue stuck out behind, the loyalty of which was not to be 
 disputed. His dress, though ancient, had an air of decayed 
 gentility, and I observed that he took his snuff out of an 
 elegant though old-fashioned gold box. He appeared to be the 
 most popular man on the walk. He had a compliment for 
 every old lady, ho kissed every child, and he patted every 
 little dog on the head ; ior children and little dogs are very 
 important members of society in France. I must observe, 
 however, that he seldom kissed a child without, at the same 
 time, pinching the nursery-maid's cheek ; a Frenchman of the 
 old school never forgets his devoirs to the sex. 
 
 I had taken a liking to this old gentleman. There was an 
 habitual expression of benevolence in his face which I have 
 very frequently remarked in these rehcs of the politer days of 
 France. The constant interchange of those thousand little 
 courtesies which imperceptibly sweeten life have a happy 
 effect upon the features, and spread a mellow evening charm 
 over the wrinkles of old age. 
 
 Where there is a favorable predisx-)Osition one soon fonns a 
 kind of tacit intunacy by often meeting on the same walks. 
 Once or twice I accommodated him with a bench, after v/hich 
 we touched hats on passing eoxih other ; at length we got so far 
 as to take a pinch of snuff together out of his box, which is 
 equivalent to eating salt together in the East ; from that time 
 our acquaintance was estabhshed. 
 
 I now became his frequent companion in his morning prome- 
 nades, and derived much amusement from his good-humored 
 remarks on men and manners. One morning, as we were 
 
198 
 
 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 
 
 Bt rolling through an alley of the Tuileries, with the autumnal 
 breeze whirling the yellow leaves about our path, my com- 
 panion fell into a peciiUarly communicative vein, and gave me 
 several particulars of his history. He had once been wealthy, 
 and possessed of a fine estate in the country and a noble hotel 
 in Paris; but the revolution, which effected so many disas- 
 trous changes, stripped him of everything. He was secretly 
 denounced by his own steAvard during a sanguinary period of 
 the revolution, and a number of the bloodhounds of the Con- 
 vention were sent to arrest him. He received private intelli- 
 gence of their approach in time to effect his escape. He landed 
 in England A\dthout money or friends, but considered himself 
 singularly fortunate in having his head upon his shoulders; 
 several of liis neighbors having been guiUotined as a punish- 
 ment for being rich. 
 
 When he reached London he had but a louis in his pocket, 
 and no prospect of getting another. R o ate a solitary dinner 
 of beefsteak, and was almost poisoned by port wine, which 
 from its color he had mistaken for claret. The dingy look of 
 the chop-house, and of the little mahogany- colored box in 
 which he ate his dinner, contrasted sadly with the gay saloons 
 of Paris. Everything looked gloomy and disheartening. Pov- 
 erty stared him in the face ; he turned over the few shillings 
 he had of change ; did not know what was to become of him ; 
 and — went to the theatre ! 
 
 He took his seat in the pit, listened attentively to a tragedy 
 of which he did not understand a word, and which seemed 
 made up of fighting, and stabbing, and scene-shifting, and 
 began to feel his spirits sinking within him ; when, casting liis 
 eyes into the orchestra, what was his surprise to recognize an 
 old friend and neighbor in the very act of extorting music 
 from a huf:e violoncello. 
 
 As soon as the evening's performance was over he tapped his 
 friend on the shoulder ; they kissed each other on each cheek, 
 and the musician took him home, and shra-ed his lodgings 
 with him. He had learned music as an accomphshment by 
 his friend's advice he now turned to it as a means of support. 
 He procured a viohn, offered himself for the orchestra, was 
 received, and again considered himself one of the most fortu- 
 nate men upon earth. 
 
 Here therefore he lived for many years during the ascen- 
 dancy of the terrible Napoleon. He found several emigrants 
 living, hke himself, by the exercise of their talents. They 
 
CONTENTED MAN, 
 
 1G9 
 
 associated together talked of France and of old times, and 
 endeavored to keep up a semblance of Parisian life in the 
 centre of liOndon. 
 
 They dined at a miserable cheap French restaurant in the 
 neigliborhood of Leicester-square, where they were served with 
 a caricature of French cookery. They took their promenade 
 in St. James's Park, and endeavored to fancy it the Tuileries; 
 in short, they made shift to accommodate themselves to every- 
 tiling but an Engiish Sunday. Indeed the old gentleman 
 seemed to have nothing to say against the Enghsh, whom he 
 affirmed to be braves gens; and he mingled so much among 
 them that at the end of twenty years he could speak their 
 language almost well enough to be imderstood. 
 
 The downfall of Napoleon was another epoch in his life. He 
 had considered himself a fortunate man to make his escape 
 penniless out of France, and he considered himself fortunate 
 to be able to retm^n penniless into it. It is true that he found 
 his Parisian hotel had passed through several hands durmg 
 the vicissitudes of the times, so as to be beyond the reach of 
 recoveiy; but then he had been noticed benignantly by gov- 
 ernmeiit, and had a pension of several hundred fiTmcs, upon 
 which, with careful management, he lived independently, and, 
 as far as I could judge, happily. 
 
 As his once splendid hotel was now occupied as a hotel 
 gaiiii, he hired a small chamber in the attic ; it was but, as he 
 said, changing his bedroom up two pair of stairs — he was still 
 in his own house. His room was decorated with pictures of 
 several beauties of former times, with whom he professed* to 
 have been on favorable terms: among them was a favorite 
 opera-dancer; who had been the admiration of Paris at the 
 breaking out of the revolution. She had been a protegee of 
 my friend, and one of the few of his youthful favorites who 
 had survived the lapse of time and its various vicissitudes. 
 They had rene^7ed their acquaintance, and she now and then 
 visited him ; but the beautiful Psyche, once the fashion of th3 
 day and the idol of the parterre, was now a shrivelled, little 
 old woman, warped in the back, and with a hooked nose. 
 
 The old gentleman was a devout attendant upon levees; he 
 was most zealous in his loyalty, and could not speak of the 
 royal family without a burst of enthusiasm, for he still felt 
 towards them as his companions in exUe. As to his poverty 
 iie made ligiit of it, and indeed had a good-humored way of 
 consoling Imnself for every cross and privation. If he had 
 
200 
 
 THE CRA YO N PAPERS. 
 
 lost his chateau in the country, he had half a dozen royal 
 palaces, as it were, at his coramand. He had Versailles and 
 St. Cloud for his country resorts, and the shady alleys of the 
 Tuileries, and the Luxembourg for his town recreation. Thus 
 all his promenades and relaxations were magnificent, yet 
 cost nothing. 
 
 When I w-alk through these fine gardens, said he, I have only 
 to fancy myself the owner of them, and they are mine. All 
 these gay crowds are my visitors, and I defy the grand seignior 
 himself to display a greater variety of beauty. Nay, what is 
 better, I have not the trouble of entertaining them. My estate 
 is a perfect Sans Souci, where every one does as he pleases, and 
 no one troubles the owner. All Paris is my theatre, and pre- 
 sents me with a continual spectacle. I have a table spread for 
 me in every street, and thousands of waiters ready to fly at my 
 bidding. When my servants have waited upon me I pay them, 
 discharge them, and there's an end ; I have no fears of their 
 wronging or pilfering me when my back is turned. Upon the 
 whole, said the old gentleman, with a smile of infinite good- 
 humor, when I think upon the various risks I have run, and 
 the manner in which I have escaped them ; when I recollect all 
 that I have suffered, and consider all that I at present enjoy, 1 
 cannot but look upon myself as a man of singular good fortune. 
 
 Such was the brief history of this practical philosopher, and 
 it is a picture of many a Frenchman ruined by the revolution. 
 The French appear to have a greater facility than most men in 
 accommodating themselves to the reverses of life, and of ex- 
 tracting honey out of the bitter things of this world. The first 
 shock of calamity is apt to overwhelm them, but when it is 
 once past, their natural buoyancy of feehng soon brings them 
 to the surface. This may be called the residt of levity of 
 character, but it answers the end of reconciling us to misfor- 
 tune, and if it be not true philosophy, it is something almost as 
 efiicacious. Ever since I have heard the story of my little 
 Frenchman, I have treasured it up in my heart; and I thank 
 my stars I have at length found what I had long considered as 
 not to be found on earth— a contented man. 
 
 P.S. There is no calculating on human happiness. Since 
 witiog the foregoing, the law of mdemnity has been passed, 
 and my friend restored to a great part of his fortune. I was 
 absent from Paris at the time, but on my return hastened to 
 congratulate him. I found him magnificently lodged on the 
 
A CO TENTED MAN. 
 
 201 
 
 first floor of his hotel. I was ushered, by a servant in livery, 
 through splendid saloons, to a cabinet riclily furnished, where 
 I found my little Frenchman reclining on a couch. He received 
 me with his usual cordiality ; but I saw the gayety and benevo- 
 lence of his countenance had lied ; he had an eye full of care 
 and anxiety. 
 
 I congratulated hun on his good fortune. "Good fortune?" 
 echoed he ; " bah ! I have been plundered of a princely fortune, 
 and they give me a pittance as an indemnity." 
 
 Alas ! I found my late poor and contented friend one of the 
 richest and most miserable men in Paris. Instead of rejoicing 
 in the ample competency restored to him, he is daily repining 
 at the superfluity withheld. He no longer wanders in happy 
 idleness about Paris, but is a repining attendant in the ante- 
 chambers of ministers. His loyalty has evaporated with his 
 gayety ; he screws his mouth when the Bourbons are mentioned, 
 and even shrugs his shoulders when he hears the praises of the 
 king. In a word, he is one of the many philosophers undone 
 by the law of indemnity, and his case is desperate, for I doubt 
 whether even another reverse of fortune, which should restore 
 him to poverty, could make him again a happy man.